Кінець рабства
XIII
Aglimmerhereandtherewasallhecouldseeofit;andoncehemightafterallsupposehehaddozedoff,sincethereappearedbeforehisvision,unexpectedlyandconnectedwithnodream,arowofflamingandgiganticfigures—threenaughtsevenonetwo—makingupanumbersuchasyoumayseeonalotteryticket.Andthenallatoncetheportwasnolongerblack:itwaspearlygray,framingashorecrowdedwithhouses,thatchedroofbeyondthatchedroof,wallsofmatsandbamboo,gablesofcarvedteaktimber.Rowsofdwellingsraisedonaforestofpileslinedthesteelybandoftheriver,brimfulandstill,withthetideattheturn.ThiswasBatuBeru—andthedayhadcome.
Mr.Massyshookhimself,putonthetweedcoat,and,shiveringnervouslyasiffromsomegreatshock,madeanoteofthenumber.Afortunate,rarehintthat.Yes;buttopursuefortuneonewantedmoney—readycash.
Thenhewentoutandpreparedtodescendintotheengine-room.Severalsmalljobshadtobeseento,andJackwaslyingdeaddrunkonthefloorofhiscabin,withthedoorlockedatthat.Hisgorgeroseatthethoughtofwork.Ay!Butifyouwantedtodonothingyouhadtogetfirstagoodbitofmoney.Ashipwon’tsaveyou.HecursedtheSofala.True,alltrue.Hewastiredofwaitingforsomechancethatwouldridhimatlastofthatshipthathadturnedoutacurseonhislife.
