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

and again the white wings of a storm-tossed sea-bird. On the summit of
the East Cliff the new searchlight was ready for experiment, but had
not yet been tried. The officers in charge of it got it into working
order, and in the pauses of the inrushing mist swept with it the
surface of the sea. Once or twice its service was most effective, as
when a fishing-boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the
harbour, able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the
danger of dashing against the piers. As each boat achieved the
safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass of people on
shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to cleave the gale and was
then swept away in its rush.

Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner
with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had been
noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by this time backed to
the east, and there was a shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff as
they realised the terrible danger in which she now was. Between her
and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships
have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its
present quarter, it would be quite impossible that she should fetch
the entrance of the harbour. It was now nearly the hour of high
tide, but the waves were so great that in their troughs the shallows
of the shore were almost visible, and the schooner, with all sails
set, was rushing with such speed that, in the words of one old salt,
"she must fetch up somewhere, if it was only in hell." Then came
another rush of sea-fog, greater than any hitherto- a mass of dank
mist, which seemed to close on all things like a grey pall, and left
available to men only the organ of hearing, for the roar of the
tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the mighty
billows came through the damp oblivion even louder than before. The
rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbour mouth across
the East Pier, where the shock was expected, and men waited
breathless. The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the
remnant of the sea-fog melted in the blast; and then, mirabile
dictu, between the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at
headlong speed, swept the strange schooner before the blast, with
all sail set, and gained the safety of the harbour. The search-light
followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to
the helm was a corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and
fro at each motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on deck at
all. A great awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if
by a miracle, had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a
dead man! However, all took place more quickly than it takes to
write these words. The schooner paused not, but rushing across the
harbour, pitched herself on that accumulation of sand and gravel
washed by many tides and many storms into the south-east corner of the
pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally as Tate Hill Pier.

There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up
on the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some of