The Captain from Connecticut

Начало книги

ALTHOUGH it was midafternoon it was nearly as dark as a summer night. The ship swayed uneasily at her anchor as the wind howled round her, the rigging giving out musical tones, from the deep bass of the shrouds to the high treble of the running rigging. Already the snow was thick enough on her to blur the outlines of the objects on the deck. On its forward side the square base of the binnacle was now a rounded mound; the Flemished coils of the falls were now merely white cylinders. The officer of the watch stood shivering in the little shelter offered by the mizzenmast bitts, and forward across the snow-covered deck a few unhappy hands crouched vainly seeking shelter under the high bulwarks.

The two officers who emerged upon the quarter-deck held their hats onto their heads against the shrieking wind. The shorter, slighter one turned up the collar of his heavy coat and attempted instinctively to pull the front of it tighter across his chest to keep out the penetrating air. As he spoke in the gray darkness he had to raise his voice to make himself heard, despite the confidential nature of what he was saying.

Читать дальше →