Prev | Current Page 185 | Next

Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

His eyes stared at Belfast, appealing and impudent. "I am
rather weak from lying-up so long," he said, distinctly. Belfast nodded.
"Getting quite well now," insisted Wait.--"Yes. I noticed you getting
better this... last month," said Belfast, looking down. "Hallo! What's
this?" he shouted and ran out.
He was flattened directly against the side of the house by two men who
lurched against him. A lot of disputes seemed to be going on all round.
He got clear and saw three indistinct figures standing along in the
fainter darkness under the arched foot of the mainsail, that rose above
their heads like a convex wall of a high edifice. Donkin hissed:--"Go
for them... it's dark!" The crowd took a short run aft in a body--then
there was a check. Donkin, agile and thin, flitted past with his right
arm going like a windmill--and then stood still suddenly with his arm
pointing rigidly above his head. The hurtling flight of some heavy
object was heard; it passed between the heads of the two mates, bounded
heavily along the deck, struck the after hatch with a ponderous and
deadened blow. The bulky shape of Mr. Baker grew distinct. "Come to your
senses, men!" he cried, advancing at the arrested crowd.


Pages:
173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197