Конец рабства

VIII

           

           Againhepaused,asthoughhehaddoneforgood.Hepassedhistongueoverhislips,gaveabackwardglanceattheSerangconningtheshipwithquietwhispersandslightsignsofthehand.Thewashofthepropellersentaswiftripple,crestedwithdarkfroth,uponalongflatspitofblackslime.TheSofalahadenteredtheriver;thetrailshehadstirredupoverthebarwasamileasternofhernow,outofsight,haddisappearedutterly;andthesmooth,emptyseaalongthecoastwasleftbehindintheglitteringdesolationofsunshine.Oneachsideofher,lowdown,thegrowthofsombertwistedmangrovescoveredthesemi-liquidbanks;andMassycontinuedinhisoldtone,withanabruptstart,asifhisspeechhadbeengroundoutofhim,likethetuneofamusic-box,byturningahandle.

           “Thoughifanybodyevergotthebestofme,itisyou.Idon’tmindsayingthis.I’vesaidit—there!Whatmorecanyouwant?Isn’tthatenoughforyourpride,CaptainWhalley.Yougotovermefromthefirst.It’sallofapiece,whenIlookbackatit.Youallowedmetoinsertthatclauseaboutintemperancewithoutsayinganything,onlylookingverysickwhenImadeapointofitgoinginblackonwhite.HowcouldItellwhatwaswrongaboutyou.There’sgenerallysomethingwrongsomewhere.And,loandbehold!whenyoucomeonboarditturnsoutthatyou’vebeeninthehabitofdrinkingnothingbutwaterforyearsandyears.”

           Hisdogmaticreproachfulwhinestopped.Hebroodedprofoundly,afterthemannerofcraftyandunintelligentmen.

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