Кінець рабства
II
Allthiswouldbesaidwithajoculartwinkleinhiseye:thevigorousoldmanhadtoomuchvitalityforthesentimentalismofregret;andalittlewistfullywithal,becausehewasathomeinlife,takingagenuinepleasureinitsfeelingsanditspossessions;inthedignityofhisreputationandhiswealth,inhisloveforhisdaughter,andinhissatisfactionwiththeship—theplaythingofhislonelyleisure.
Hehadthecabinarrangedinaccordancewithhissimpleidealofcomfortatsea.Abigbookcase(hewasagreatreader)occupiedonesideofhisstateroom;theportraitofhislatewife,aflatbituminousoil-paintingrepresentingtheprofileandonelongblackringletofayoungwoman,facedhisbed-place.Threechronometerstickedhimtosleepandgreetedhimonwakingwiththetinycompetitionoftheirbeats.Heroseatfiveeveryday.Theofficerofthemorningwatch,drinkinghisearlycupofcoffeeaftbythewheel,wouldhearthroughthewideorificeofthecopperventilatorsallthesplashings,blowings,andsplutteringsofhiscaptain’stoilet.ThesenoiseswouldbefollowedbyasustaineddeepmurmuroftheLord’sPrayerrecitedinaloudearnestvoice.FiveminutesafterwardstheheadandshouldersofCaptainWhalleyemergedoutofthecompanion-hatchway.Invariablyhepausedforawhileonthestairs,lookingallroundatthehorizon;upwardsatthetrimofthesails;inhalingdeepdraughtsofthefreshair.Onlythenhewouldstepoutonthepoop,acknowledgingthehandraisedtothepeakofthecapwithamajesticandbenign“Goodmorningtoyou.”Hewalkedthedecktilleightscrupulously.
