"Alexander Green - The ships in Liss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Alexander)

would have done well to heed Bitt-Boy blindly. But Beppo thought it over
for two days. 'Oh a storm belt... oh, blah blah, the buoys've been torn off....'
But the crux of it, lads, wasn't in buoys. Ali the Turk, Beppo's
ex-boatswain, made a hole in his brig directly across from the mizzen and
sealed it with pitch. A wave would have quickly washed it away. Finally the
swooning Beppo sailed through the infernal strait with Bitt-Boy; he was
late, of course, and the money in Akhuan Skap had come to like others
more than that wop, but ... isn't Bitt-Boy a lucky-chap! In Kasset they were
hurled against the reefs.... Now, several barrels of honey that stood near
the Turk's hole had begun to ferment, most likely back in Zurbagan. These
barrels burst, and about four tons of honey battened down the hole with
such a collision mat that the planking never gave way. Beppo turned cold
when he discovered it during the unloading in Akhuan Skap.
"Bitt-Boy.... I would have begged him to come to me," remarked
Estamp. "Some day, Duke, they'll hang you for the powder anyway, but I
have children."
"I'll tell you another story about Bitt-Boy," Chinchar began. "This
affair...."
A dreadful, jolly racket interrupted the old swindler. Everyone turned
towards the door, many began to wave their hats, and some rushed to
greet the newcomer. A collective roar raced like the wind through the vast
hall, while individual shouts burst through the enthusiastic uproar:
"Bitt-Boy! Bitt-Boy! Bitt-Boy, bearer of good fortune!"




IV
 The person greeted by such a meaningful and delightful appellation
reddened deeply, stopped at the entrance, laughed, waved a greeting, and
went to the captains' table. He was a well-built person of no more than
thirty, not tall, and with a pleasant, open face that expressed tenderness
and strength. There was a calm liveliness in his eyes, while his facial
features, his figure, and all his movements were notable for their dignity,
which was more a reflection of an inner calm than an habitual assertion of
character. His thoughtful voice was extremely distinct but not loud.
Bitt-Boy wore a pilot's cap, a brown jersey, a blue belt, and heavy-looking
shoes; a raincoat was thrown over his arm.
Bitt-Boy shook dozens and hundreds of hands.... His smiling glance
moved freely about the circle of friendly grins; wreaths of pipe smoke, the
white glitter of teeth in coffee-coloured faces, and a multi-hued fog of eyes
surrounded him for several minutes тАФ the vibrant cloud of a cordial
meeting. He finally disentangled himself and fell into Duke's embrace.
Even Chinchar's mournful eye cheered up, as did his caustic jaw. The
stolid, ox-like Renior softened, and the tough, egotistical Estamp gave a
slight but childlike smile. Bitt-Boy was everyone's favourite.
"You, fortune's drummer!" said Duke. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of
you! You weren't perhaps some modern Jonah in the belly of a nasty
whale? Where did you disappear to? What d'you know? Take your pick:
the whole damn fleet's on hand. But we're stuck, like a wedge driven into