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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Конец рабства
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- Стр. 19/95
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...
.
"
Can
you
make
out
the
clump
of
palms
yet
,
Serang
?
"
asked
Captain
Whalley
from
his
chair
on
the
bridge
of
the
Sofala
approaching
the
bar
of
Batu
Beru
.
"
No
,
Tuan
.
By-and-by
see
.
"
The
old
Malay
,
in
a
blue
dungaree
suit
,
planted
on
his
bony
dark
feet
under
the
bridge
awning
,
put
his
hands
behind
his
back
and
stared
ahead
out
of
the
innumerable
wrinkles
at
the
corners
of
his
eyes
.
Captain
Whalley
sat
still
,
without
lifting
his
head
to
look
for
himself
.
Three
years
--
thirty-six
times
.
He
had
made
these
palms
thirty-six
times
from
the
southward
.
They
would
come
into
view
at
the
proper
time
.
Thank
God
,
the
old
ship
made
her
courses
and
distances
trip
after
trip
,
as
correct
as
clockwork
.
At
last
he
murmured
again
--
"
In
sight
yet
?
"
"
The
sun
makes
a
very
great
glare
,
Tuan
.
"
"
Watch
well
,
Serang
.
"
"
Ya
,
Tuan
.
"
A
white
man
had
ascended
the
ladder
from
the
deck
noiselessly
,
and
had
listened
quietly
to
this
short
colloquy
.
Then
he
stepped
out
on
the
bridge
and
began
to
walk
from
end
to
end
,
holding
up
the
long
cherrywood
stem
of
a
pipe
.
His
black
hair
lay
plastered
in
long
lanky
wisps
across
the
bald
summit
of
his
head
;
he
had
a
furrowed
brow
,
a
yellow
complexion
,
and
a
thick
shapeless
nose
.
A
scanty
growth
of
whisker
did
not
conceal
the
contour
of
his
jaw
.
His
aspect
was
of
brooding
care
;
and
sucking
at
a
curved
black
mouthpiece
,
he
presented
such
a
heavy
overhanging
profile
that
even
the
Serang
could
not
help
reflecting
sometimes
upon
the
extreme
unloveliness
of
some
white
men
.
Captain
Whalley
seemed
to
brace
himself
up
in
his
chair
,
but
gave
no
recognition
whatever
to
his
presence
.
