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

the "top-hammer" came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very
instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from
below, as if shot up by the concussion, and running forward, jumped
from the bow on the sand. Making straight for the steep cliff, where
the churchyard hangs over the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that
some of the flat tombstones- "thruff-steans" or "through-stones," as
they call them in the Whitby vernacular- actually project over where
the sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the
darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the
searchlight.

It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill
Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were either
in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus the coastguard on duty
on the eastern side of the harbour, who at once ran down to the little
pier, was the first to climb on board. The men working the
searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the harbour without seeing
anything, then turned the light on the derelict and kept it there. The
coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel, bent over to
examine it, and recoiled at once as though under some sudden
emotion. This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a number of
people began to run. It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the
Drawbridge to Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly
good runner, and came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived,
however, I found already assembled on the pier a crowd, whom the
coastguard and police refused to allow to come on board. By the
courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted
to climb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman
whilst actually lashed to the wheel.

It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed,
for not often can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply
fastened by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the
wheel. Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set
of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and
wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. The poor fellow may
have been seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the
sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and dragged him to
and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut the flesh to
the bone. Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor-
Surgeon J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place- who came immediately
after me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have
been dead for quite two days. In his pocket was a bottle, carefully
corked, empty save for a little roll of paper, which proved to be
the addendum to the log. The coastguard said the man must have tied up
his own hands, fastening the knots with his teeth. The fact that a
coastguard was the first on board may save some complications, later
on, in the Admiralty Court; for coastguards cannot claim the salvage
which is the tight of the first civilian entering on a derelict.
Already however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law