"London, Jack - The Sea-Wolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (London Jack)

San Francisco.

A red-faced man, slamming the cabin door behind him and stumping
out on the deck, interrupted my reflections, though I made a mental
note of the topic for use in a projected essay which I had thought
of calling "The Necessity for Freedom: A Plea for the Artist."
The red-faced man shot a glance up at the pilot-house, gazed around
at the fog, stumped across the deck and back (he evidently had
artificial legs), and stood still by my side, legs wide apart, and
with an expression of keen enjoyment on his face. I was not wrong
when I decided that his days had been spent on the sea.

"It's nasty weather like this here that turns heads grey before
their time," he said, with a nod toward the pilot-house.

"I had not thought there was any particular strain," I answered.
"It seems as simple as A, B, C. They know the direction by
compass, the distance, and the speed. I should not call it
anything more than mathematical certainty."

"Strain!" he snorted. "Simple as A, B, C! Mathematical
certainty!"

He seemed to brace himself up and lean backward against the air as
he stared at me. "How about this here tide that's rushin' out
through the Golden Gate?" he demanded, or bellowed, rather. "How
fast is she ebbin'? What's the drift, eh? Listen to that, will
you? A bell-buoy, and we're a-top of it! See 'em alterin' the
course!"

From out of the fog came the mournful tolling of a bell, and I
could see the pilot turning the wheel with great rapidity. The
bell, which had seemed straight ahead, was now sounding from the
side. Our own whistle was blowing hoarsely, and from time to time
the sound of other whistles came to us from out of the fog.

"That's a ferry-boat of some sort," the new-comer said, indicating
a whistle off to the right. "And there! D'ye hear that? Blown by
mouth. Some scow schooner, most likely. Better watch out, Mr.
Schooner-man. Ah, I thought so. Now hell's a poppin' for
somebody!"

The unseen ferry-boat was blowing blast after blast, and the mouth-
blown horn was tooting in terror-stricken fashion.

"And now they're payin' their respects to each other and tryin' to
get clear," the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling
ceased.

His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement as he