Кінець рабства
IX
Matchedastoheightandutterlydissimilar,theyconfrontedeachotherasiftherehadbeensomethingbetweenthem—somethingelsethanthebrightstripofsunlightthat,fallingthroughthewidelacingoftwoawnings,cutcrosswisethenarrowplankingofthedeckandseparatedtheirfeetasitwereastream;somethingprofoundandsubtleandincalculable,likeanunexpressedunderstanding,asecretmistrust,orsomesortoffear.
AtlastSterne,blinkinghisdeep-seteyesandstickingforwardhisscraped,clean-cutchin,ascrimsonastherestofhisface,murmured—
“You’veseen?Hegrazed!You’veseen?”
Massy,contemptuous,andwithoutraisinghisyellow,fleshycountenance,repliedinthesamepitch—
“Maybe.Butifithadbeenyouwewouldhavebeenstuckfastinthemud.”
“Pardonme,Mr.Massy.Ibegtodenyit.Ofcourseashipownermaysaywhathejollywellpleasesonhisowndeck.That’sallright;butIbegto...”
“Getoutofmyway!”
Theotherhadaslightstart,theimpulseofsuppressedindignationperhaps,butheldhisground.Massy’sdownwardglancewanderedrightandleft,asthoughthedeckallroundSternehadbeenbestrewnwitheggsthatmustnotbebroken,andhehadlookedirritablyforplaceswherehecouldsethisfeetinflight.Intheendhetoodidnotmove,thoughtherewasplentyofroomtopasson.
“Iheardyousayupthere,”wentonthemate—“andaveryjustremarkitwastoo—thatthere’salwayssomethingwrong....”
“Eavesdroppingiswhat’swrongwithyou,Mr.Sterne.”
“Now,ifyouwouldonlylistentomeforamoment,Mr.
