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

and up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun- a raging madman,
with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! save
me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. His horror
turned to despair, and in a steady voice he said: "You had better come
too, captain, before it is too late. He is there. I know the secret
now. The sea will save me from Him, and it is all that is left!"
Before I could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang
on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. I
suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman who had got rid
of the men one by one, and now he has followed them himself. God
help me! How am I to account for all these horrors when I get to port?
When I get to port! Will that ever be?

4 August.- Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know
there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. I dared
not go below, I dared not leave the helm; so here all night I
stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw It- Him! God forgive me,
but the mate was right to jump overboard. It was better to die like
a man; to die like a sailor in blue water no man can object. But I
am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle this
fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my
strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which
He- It!- dare not touch; and then, come good wind or foul, I shall
save my soul, and my honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the
night is coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not
have time to act... If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be
found, and those who find it may understand; if not,... well, then all
men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the
Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do
his duty...

Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to
adduce; and whether or not the man himself committed the murders there
is now none to say. The folk here hold almost universally that the
captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given a public funeral.
Already it is arranged that his body is to be taken with a train of
boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier
and up the abbey steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on
the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have already
given in their names as wishing to follow him to the grave.

No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which there is
much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he
would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the
funeral; and so will end this one more "mystery of the sea."

Mina Murray's Journal.

8 August.- Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could not
sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the