-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- Морской волк
-
- Стр. 23/243
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Look
sharp
or
you
'll
get
doused
,
"
was
Mr.
Mugridge
's
parting
injunction
,
as
I
left
the
galley
with
a
big
tea-pot
in
one
hand
,
and
in
the
hollow
of
the
other
arm
several
loaves
of
fresh-baked
bread
.
One
of
the
hunters
,
a
tall
,
loose-jointed
chap
named
Henderson
,
was
going
aft
at
the
time
from
the
steerage
(
the
name
the
hunters
facetiously
gave
their
midships
sleeping
quarters
)
to
the
cabin
.
Wolf
Larsen
was
on
the
poop
,
smoking
his
everlasting
cigar
.
"
'
Ere
she
comes
.
Sling
yer
'
ook
!
"
the
cook
cried
.
I
stopped
,
for
I
did
not
know
what
was
coming
,
and
saw
the
galley
door
slide
shut
with
a
bang
.
Then
I
saw
Henderson
leaping
like
a
madman
for
the
main
rigging
,
up
which
he
shot
,
on
the
inside
,
till
he
was
many
feet
higher
than
my
head
.
Also
I
saw
a
great
wave
,
curling
and
foaming
,
poised
far
above
the
rail
.
I
was
directly
under
it
.
My
mind
did
not
work
quickly
,
everything
was
so
new
and
strange
.
I
grasped
that
I
was
in
danger
,
but
that
was
all
.
I
stood
still
,
in
trepidation
.
Then
Wolf
Larsen
shouted
from
the
poop
:
"
Grab
hold
something
,
you
--
you
Hump
!
"
But
it
was
too
late
.
I
sprang
toward
the
rigging
,
to
which
I
might
have
clung
,
and
was
met
by
the
descending
wall
of
water
.
What
happened
after
that
was
very
confusing
.
I
was
beneath
the
water
,
suffocating
and
drowning
.
My
feet
were
out
from
under
me
,
and
I
was
turning
over
and
over
and
being
swept
along
I
knew
not
where
.
Several
times
I
collided
against
hard
objects
,
once
striking
my
right
knee
a
terrible
blow
.
Then
the
flood
seemed
suddenly
to
subside
and
I
was
breathing
the
good
air
again
.
I
had
been
swept
against
the
galley
and
around
the
steerage
companion-way
from
the
weather
side
into
the
lee
scuppers
.
The
pain
from
my
hurt
knee
was
agonizing
.
I
could
not
put
my
weight
on
it
,
or
,
at
least
,
I
thought
I
could
not
put
my
weight
on
it
;
and
I
felt
sure
the
leg
was
broken
.
But
the
cook
was
after
me
,
shouting
through
the
lee
galley
door
:
"
'
Ere
,
you
!
Do
n't
tyke
all
night
about
it
!
Where
's
the
pot
?
Lost
overboard
?
Serve
you
bloody
well
right
if
yer
neck
was
broke
!
"
I
managed
to
struggle
to
my
feet
.
The
great
tea-pot
was
still
in
my
hand
.
I
limped
to
the
galley
and
handed
it
to
him
.
But
he
was
consumed
with
indignation
,
real
or
feigned
.
"
Gawd
blime
me
if
you
ay
n't
a
slob
.
Wot
'
re
you
good
for
anyw
'
y
,
I
'd
like
to
know
?
Eh
?
Wot
'
re
you
good
for
any
'
wy
?
Caw
n't
even
carry
a
bit
of
tea
aft
without
losin
'
it
.
Now
I
'll
'
ave
to
boil
some
more
.
"
An
'
wot
'
re
you
snifflin
'
about
?
"
he
burst
out
at
me
,
with
renewed
rage
.
"
'
Cos
you
've
'
urt
yer
pore
little
leg
,
pore
little
mamma
's
darlin
'
.
"
