"stoker-dracula-168" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

and there, sometimes half shrouded in the mist, and seem "men like
trees walking." The fishing-boats are racing for home, and rise and
dip in the ground swell as they sweep into the harbour, bending to the
scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is making straight for me, and
I can see, by the way he lifts his hat, that he wants to talk...

I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he
sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle way:-

"I want to say something to you, miss." I could see he was not at
ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in mine and asked him to
speak fully; so he said, leaving his hand in mine:-

"I'm afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by all the
wicked things I've been sayin' about the dead, and such like, for
weeks past; but I didn't mean them, and I want ye to remember that
when I'm gone. We aud folks that be daffled, and with one foot abaft
the krok-hooal, don't altogether like to think of it, and we don't
want to feel scart of it; an' that's why I've took to makin' light
of it, so that I'd cheer up my own heart a bit. But, Lord love ye,
miss, I ain't afraid of dyin', not a bit; only I don't want to die
if I can help it. My time must be nigh at hand now, for I be aud,
and a hundred years is too much for any man to expect; and I'm so nigh
it that the Aud Man is already whettin' his scythe. Ye see, I can't
get out o' the habit of affin' about it all at once: the chafts will
wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of Death will sound
his trumpet for me. But don't ye dooal an' greet, my deary!"- for he
saw that I was crying- "if he should come this very night I'd not
refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only a waitin'
for somethin' else than what we're doin'; and death be all that we can
rightly depend on. But I'm content, for it's comin' to me, my deary,
and comin' quick. It may be comin' while we be lookin' and
wonderin'. Maybe it's in that wind out over the sea that's bringin'
with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look!
look!" he cried suddenly. "There's something in that wind and in the
hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like
death. It's in the air, I feel it comin. Lord, make me answer cheerful
when my call comes!" He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat.
His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes'
silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said
good-bye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me very much.

I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass under
his arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the
time kept looking at a strange ship.

"I can't make her out," he said; "she's a Russian, by the look of
her; but she's knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn't know
her mind a bit; she seems to see the storm coming, but can't decide
whether to run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there