"Alexander Green - Crimson Sails" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Alexander)

are the separate drawings in relation to an architectural conception. Yet,
there was the power of radiant excitement in these ideas.
The bank appeared to the left like a wavy thickening of darkness. Sparks
from the chimneys danced above the red glass of the windows; this was
Kaperna. Gray could hear shouting, wrangling and barking. The lights of
the village resembled a firebox door that has burned through in tiny spots
to let you see the flaming coal inside. To the right was the ocean, as real as
the presence of a sleeping person. Having passed Kaperna, Gray steered
towards the shore. The water lapped against it softly here; lighting his
lantern, he saw the pits in the bluff and its upper, overhanging ledges; he
liked the spot.
"We'll fish here," Gray said, tapping the oarsman on the shoulder.
The sailor harrumphed vaguely.
"This is the first time I've ever sailed with such a captain," he muttered.
"He's a sensible captain, but no ordinary kind. A difficult captain. But I
like him all the same."
He stuck the oar into the silt and tied the boat to it and they both
scrambled up the stones that rolled out from under their knees and
elbows. There was a thicket at the top of the bluff. The sound of an axe
splitting a dry trunk followed; having felled the tree, Letika made a
campfire on the bluff. Shadows moved, and the flames that were reflected
in the water; in the receding gloom the grass and branches stood out; the
air, mingled with smoke, shimmered and glowed above the fire.
Gray sat by the campfire.
"Here," he said, proffering a bottle, "drink to all teetotallers, my friend
Letika. And, by the way, the vodka you brought along is flavoured with
ginger, not quinine."
"I'm sorry, Captain," the sailor replied, catching his breath. "If you don't
mind, I'll eat it down with this...." At which he bit off half a roast chicken
and, extracting a wing from his mouth, continued: "I know you like
quinine. But it was dark, and I was in a hurry. Ginger, you see, embitters a
man. I always drink ginger vodka when I have to go.
As the captain ate and drank, the sailor kept stealing glances at him
and, finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he said, "Is it true,
Captain, what they say? That you come from a noble family?"
"That's of no importance, Letika. Take your tackle and fish a while if
you want to." "What about you?"
 "Me? I don't know. Maybe. But ... later." Letika unwound his line,
chanting in rhyme, something he was a past master at, to the delight of
the crew.
"From a string and piece of wood I made a very fine, long whip. Then I
found a hook to fit it, and I whistled sharp and quick." He poked about in
a tin of worms. "This old worm lived in a burrow and was happy as could
be, but I've got him hooked real good now, and the perch will all thank
me." Finally, he walked off, singing: "Moonlight shines, the vodka's
perfect, fishes, harken, I draw near. Herrings, faint, and sturgeon skitter,
Letika is fishing here!"
Gray lay down by the fire, gazing at the water and the reflection of the
flames. He was thinking, but effortlessly; in this condition one's mind,
while observing one's surroundings absently, comprehends them but