Конец рабства
XI
Sterne—hehadnotyetgivenupthedesireandthehopeofinducingthathatedoldmantostay.Why!therewasnothingelsetodo,unlessheweretoabandonhischancesoffortune.Butnow,suddenly,sincethecrossingofthebaratBatuBeruthingsseemedtobecomingrapidlytoapoint.Itdisquietedhimsomuchthatthestudyofthewinningnumbersfailedtosoothehisagitation:andthetwilightinthecabindeepened,verysomber.
Heputthelistaway,mutteringoncemore,“Oh,no,myboy,youdon’t.NotifIknowit.”Hedidnotmeantheblinking,eavesdroppinghumbugtoforcehisaction.Hetookhisheadagainintohishands;hisimmobilityconfinedinthedarknessofthisshut-uplittleplaceseemedtomakehimathingapartinfinitelyremovedfromthestirandthesoundsofthedeck.
Heheardthem:thepassengerswerebeginningtojabberexcitedly;somebodydraggedaheavyboxpasthisdoor.HeheardCaptainWhalley’svoiceabove—
“Stations,Mr.Sterne.”Andtheanswerfromsomewhereondeckforward—
“Ay,ay,sir.”
“Weshallmoorheadupstreamthistime;theebbhasmade.”
“Headupstream,sir.”
“Youwillseetoit,Mr.Sterne.”
Theanswerwascoveredbytheautocraticclangontheengine-roomgong.Thepropellerwentonbeatingslowly:one,two,three;one,two,three—withpausesasifhesitatingontheturn.Thegongclangedtimeaftertime,andthewaterchurnedthiswayandthatbythebladeswasmakingagreatnoisycommotionalongside.Mr.Massydidnotmove.
