"Conrad, Joseph - Twixt Land And Sea Tales" - читать интересную книгу автора (Conrad Joseph)

Meantime the wind dropped, and Mr. Burns began to make disagreeable
remarks about my usual bad luck. I believe it was his devotion for
me which made him critically outspoken on every occasion. All the
same, I would not have put up with his humours if it had not been
my lot at one time to nurse him through a desperate illness at sea.
After snatching him out of the jaws of death, so to speak, it would
have been absurd to throw away such an efficient officer. But
sometimes I wished he would dismiss himself.

We were late in closing in with the land, and had to anchor outside
the harbour till next day. An unpleasant and unrestful night
followed. In this roadstead, strange to us both, Burns and I
remained on deck almost all the time. Clouds swirled down the
porphyry crags under which we lay. The rising wind made a great
bullying noise amongst the naked spars, with interludes of sad
moaning. I remarked that we had been in luck to fetch the
anchorage before dark. It would have been a nasty, anxious night
to hang off a harbour under canvas. But my chief mate was
uncompromising in his attitude.

"Luck, you call it, sir! Ay - our usual luck. The sort of luck to
thank God it's no worse!"

And so he fretted through the dark hours, while I drew on my fund
of philosophy. Ah, but it was an exasperating, weary, endless
night, to be lying at anchor close under that black coast! The
agitated water made snarling sounds all round the ship. At times a
wild gust of wind out of a gully high up on the cliffs struck on
our rigging a harsh and plaintive note like the wail of a forsaken
soul.



CHAPTER I



By half-past seven in the morning, the ship being then inside the
harbour at last and moored within a long stone's-throw from the
quay, my stock of philosophy was nearly exhausted. I was dressing
hurriedly in my cabin when the steward came tripping in with a
morning suit over his arm.

Hungry, tired, and depressed, with my head engaged inside a white
shirt irritatingly stuck together by too much starch, I desired him
peevishly to "heave round with that breakfast." I wanted to get
ashore as soon as possible.

"Yes, sir. Ready at eight, sir. There's a gentleman from the