"H. Warner Munn - The Ship from Atlantis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Munn H Warner)

Could he open a passage to the channel for his small boat? Surely it was
worth a trial. An inner feeling insinuated that yonder something fine and
desirable was waiting, but if he was to leave it must be soon.

An hour of watching had shown him that the channel was already
narrower than it had been at early dawn. The same close inspection
should have brought to his attention the fact that the banks and edges of
the lane were heaped and torn. Rotting vegetation had been brought up
from below as though some mighty rushing body had pushed through the
weed, forcing a passage, piling up the debris of its passing. This had
escaped his notice. He saw a road to his desire and nothing else.

After placing the small boat overside, he pushed away from the dragon
ship. He did not raise the sail, for there was no wind, and he took no food
or water, though he felt certain that he would not return. In his still mazed
mind this did not seem an unusual thing to do. Mystically, he felt himself
guidedтАФhe could not have said by what or' whom. It seemed that a quiet
voice was talking to him without actual words. It instructed, commanded,
and directed his actions. He gave himself up to the voice.

At first, progress was difficult. Weed gathered against the prow and
hindered him. He was obliged to stop frequently and press these clumps
below the surface with an oar in order to pass over and on. After a
half-hour he broke through into the channel and it was then a simple
matter either to row or scull.

The clear water ran straight as a canal, directly toward the distant
glowing swan. Very soon he came close enough to see that although it was
not a living creature, it was as nearly perfect a replica as man could make.

The position of the head and neck remained unaltered. The beak was
partially open and there was an eye above it which was closed. The lid
appeared movable. As the young Aztlanian drew closer he could see that
the nearer wing was feathered, by skillful carving and molding, but
damaged. Half the pinion was gone and where the remainder trailed in
the water the edges showed no signs of corrosion, but were torn and
jagged.

He paddled closer. Now that it was evident that this phenomenon was
indeed a ship, Gwalchmai felt little surprise. The craft he had quitted
possessed the figurehead of a fabulous monster, with fangs and a wobbling
tongue. It was conceivable that other ships might be constructed to
resemble birds.

But where was the open part of the vessel? Was there an entrance?
Could there be within it another lonely voyager like himself? He must
inspect the opposite side and find out.

Then, before he could move, a little ringing voice tinkled inside his