Ледяной сфинкс

Chapter VI. An Ocean Waif

           

           CaptainLenGuyliftedupthehair,whichhadbeenpreservedbythecold,raisedthehead,gazeduponthescaledeyelids,andfinallysaidwithasortofsob,—

           “Patterson!Patterson!”

           “Patterson?”Iexclaimed.

           Thename,commonasitwas,touchedsomechordinmymemory.WhenhadIheardituttered?HadIreaditanywhere?

           Atthismoment,JamesWest,onahintfromtheboatswain,searchedthepocketsofthedeadman,andtookoutofthemaknife,somestring,anemptytobaccobox,andlastlyaleatherpocket-bookfurnishedwithametallicpencil.

           “Givemethat,”saidthecaptain.Someoftheleaveswerecoveredwithwriting,almostentirelyeffacedbythedamp.Hefound,however,somewordsonthelastpagewhichwerestilllegible,andmyemotionmaybeimaginedwhenIheardhimreadaloudinatremblingvoice:“TheJane...Tsalalisland...byeighty-three...There...elevenyears...Captain...fivesailorssurviving...Hastentobringthemaid.”

           Andundertheselineswasaname,asignature,thenameofPatterson!

           ThenIremembered!PattersonwasthesecondofficeroftheJane,themateofthatschoonerwhichhadpickedupArthurPymandDirkPetersonthewreckoftheGrampus,theJanehavingreachedTsalalIsland;theJanewhichwasattackedbynativesandblownupinthemidstofthosewaters.

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