Кінець рабства
II
WhenheraisedhiseyeshecouldseeoldSwinburnefacinghimwithhiscappressedtohisbreast,andhisrugged,weather-beaten,impassivefacestreamingwithdropsofwaterlikealumpofchippedredgraniteinashower.Itwasallverywellforthatoldsea-dogtocry.Hehadtoreadontotheend;butafterthesplashhedidnotremembermuchofwhathappenedforthenextfewdays.Anelderlysailorofthecrew,deftatneedlework,puttogetheramourningfrockforthechildoutofoneofherblackskirts.
Hewasnotlikelytoforget;butyoucannotdamuplifelikeasluggishstream.Itwillbreakoutandflowoveraman’stroubles,itwillcloseuponasorrowliketheseauponadeadbody,nomatterhowmuchlovehasgonetothebottom.Andtheworldisnotbad.Peoplehadbeenverykindtohim;especiallyMrs.Gardner,thewifeoftheseniorpartnerinGardner,Patteson,&Co.,theownersoftheCondor.Itwasshewhovolunteeredtolookafterthelittleone,andinduecoursetookhertoEngland(somethingofajourneyinthosedays,evenbytheoverlandmailroute)withherowngirlstofinishhereducation.Itwastenyearsbeforehesawheragain.
Asalittlechildshehadneverbeenfrightenedofbadweather;shewouldbegtobetakenupondeckinthebosomofhisoilskincoattowatchthebigseashurlingthemselvesupontheCondor.Theswirlandcrashofthewavesseemedtofillhersmallsoulwithabreathlessdelight.“Agoodboyspoiled,”heusedtosayofherinjoke.HehadnamedherIvybecauseofthesoundoftheword,andobscurelyfascinatedbyavagueassociationofideas.
