Кінець рабства
XIV
Itwasadeadcalm,and,underthecloudedsky,throughthestillairthatseemedtoclingwarm,withaseaweedsmell,toherslimhull,onaseaofsombergrayandunwrinkled,theshipmovedonanevenkeel,asiffloatingdetachedinemptyspace.ButMr.Massyslappedhisforehead,totteredalittle,caughtholdofabelaying-pinatthefootofthemast.
“Ishallgomad,”hemuttered,walkingacrossthedeckunsteadily.Ashovelwasscrapingloosecoaldownbelow—afire-doorclanged.Sterneonthebridgebeganwhistlinganewtune.
CaptainWhalley,sittingonthecouch,awakeandfullydressed,heardthedoorofhiscabinopen.Hedidnotmoveintheleast,waitingtorecognizethevoice,withanappallingstrainofprudence.
Abulkheadlampblazedonthewhitepaint,thecrimsonplush,thebrownvarnishofmahoganytops.Thewhitewoodpacking-caseunderthebed-placehadremainedunopenedforthreeyearsnow,asthoughCaptainWhalleyhadfeltthat,aftertheFairMaidwasgone,therecouldbenoabiding-placeonearthforhisaffections.Hishandsrestedonhisknees;hishandsomeheadwithbigeyebrowspresentedarigidprofiletothedoorway.Theexpectedvoicespokeoutatlast.
“Oncemore,then.WhatamItocallyou?”
Ha!Massy.Again.Thewearinessofitcrushedhisheart—andthepainofshamewasalmostmorethanhecouldbearwithoutcryingout.
“Well.Isittobe‘partner’still?”
“Youdon’tknowwhatyouask.”
“IknowwhatIwant...”
Massysteppedinandclosedthedoor.
“...AndIamgoingtohaveatryforitwithyouoncemore.
