-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- Морской волк
-
- Стр. 220/243
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
There
must
be
some
way
,
"
she
contended
.
"
Let
me
think
.
"
"
There
is
one
way
,
"
I
said
grimly
.
She
waited
.
I
picked
up
a
seal-club
.
"
It
wo
n't
kill
him
,
"
I
said
.
"
And
before
he
could
recover
I
'd
have
him
bound
hard
and
fast
.
"
She
shook
her
head
with
a
shudder
.
"
No
,
not
that
.
There
must
be
some
less
brutal
way
.
Let
us
wait
.
"
But
we
did
not
have
to
wait
long
,
and
the
problem
solved
itself
.
In
the
morning
,
after
several
trials
,
I
found
the
point
of
balance
in
the
foremast
and
attached
my
hoisting
tackle
a
few
feet
above
it
.
Maud
held
the
turn
on
the
windlass
and
coiled
down
while
I
heaved
.
Had
the
windlass
been
in
order
it
would
not
have
been
so
difficult
;
as
it
was
,
I
was
compelled
to
apply
all
my
weight
and
strength
to
every
inch
of
the
heaving
.
I
had
to
rest
frequently
.
In
truth
,
my
spells
of
resting
were
longer
than
those
of
working
.
Maud
even
contrived
,
at
times
when
all
my
efforts
could
not
budge
the
windlass
,
to
hold
the
turn
with
one
hand
and
with
the
other
to
throw
the
weight
of
her
slim
body
to
my
assistance
.
At
the
end
of
an
hour
the
single
and
double
blocks
came
together
at
the
top
of
the
shears
.
I
could
hoist
no
more
.
And
yet
the
mast
was
not
swung
entirely
inboard
.
The
butt
rested
against
the
outside
of
the
port
rail
,
while
the
top
of
the
mast
overhung
the
water
far
beyond
the
starboard
rail
.
My
shears
were
too
short
.
All
my
work
had
been
for
nothing
.
But
I
no
longer
despaired
in
the
old
way
.
I
was
acquiring
more
confidence
in
myself
and
more
confidence
in
the
possibilities
of
windlasses
,
shears
,
and
hoisting
tackles
.
There
was
a
way
in
which
it
could
be
done
,
and
it
remained
for
me
to
find
that
way
.
While
I
was
considering
the
problem
,
Wolf
Larsen
came
on
deck
.
We
noticed
something
strange
about
him
at
once
.
The
indecisiveness
,
or
feebleness
,
of
his
movements
was
more
pronounced
.
His
walk
was
actually
tottery
as
he
came
down
the
port
side
of
the
cabin
.
At
the
break
of
the
poop
he
reeled
,
raised
one
hand
to
his
eyes
with
the
familiar
brushing
gesture
,
and
fell
down
the
steps
--
still
on
his
feet
--
to
the
main
deck
,
across
which
he
staggered
,
falling
and
flinging
out
his
arms
for
support
.
He
regained
his
balance
by
the
steerage
companion-way
and
stood
there
dizzily
for
a
space
,
when
he
suddenly
crumpled
up
and
collapsed
,
his
legs
bending
under
him
as
he
sank
to
the
deck
.
"
One
of
his
attacks
,
"
I
whispered
to
Maud
.
