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- Колин Маккалоу
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- Стр. 58/535
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Some
hours
out
of
Wellington
Frank
and
Meggie
became
convinced
their
mother
was
going
to
die
;
the
doctor
,
summoned
from
first
class
by
a
very
worried
steward
,
shook
his
head
over
her
pessimistically
.
"
Just
as
well
it
's
only
a
short
voyage
,
"
he
said
,
instructing
his
nurse
to
find
milk
for
the
baby
.
Between
bouts
of
retching
Frank
and
Meggie
managed
to
bottle-feed
Hal
,
who
did
n't
take
to
it
kindly
.
Fee
had
stopped
trying
to
vomit
and
had
sunk
into
a
kind
of
coma
,
from
which
they
could
not
rouse
her
.
The
steward
helped
Frank
put
her
in
the
top
bunk
,
where
the
air
was
a
little
less
stale
,
and
holding
a
towel
to
his
mouth
to
stem
the
watery
bile
he
still
brought
up
,
Frank
perched
himself
on
the
edge
beside
her
,
stroking
the
matted
yellow
hair
back
from
her
brow
.
Hour
after
hour
he
stuck
to
his
post
in
spite
of
his
own
sickness
;
every
time
Paddy
came
in
he
was
with
his
mother
,
stroking
her
hair
,
while
Meggie
huddled
on
a
lower
berth
with
Hal
,
a
towel
to
her
mouth
.
Three
hours
out
of
Sydney
the
seas
dropped
to
a
glassy
calm
and
fog
stole
in
furtively
from
the
far
Antarctic
,
wrapping
itself
about
the
old
ship
.
Meggie
,
reviving
a
little
,
imagined
it
bellowed
regularly
in
pain
now
the
terrible
buffeting
was
over
.
They
inched
through
the
gluey
greyness
as
stealthily
as
a
hunted
thing
until
that
deep
,
monotonous
bawl
sounded
again
from
somewhere
on
the
superstructure
,
a
lost
and
lonely
,
indescribably
sad
noise
.
Then
all
around
them
the
air
was
filled
with
mournful
bellows
as
they
slipped
through
ghostly
smoking
water
into
the
harbor
.
Meggie
never
forgot
the
sound
of
foghorns
,
her
first
introduction
to
Australia
.
Paddy
carried
Fee
off
the
Wahine
in
his
arms
,
Frank
following
with
the
baby
,
Meggie
with
a
case
,
each
of
the
boys
stumbling
wearily
under
some
kind
of
burden
.
They
had
come
into
Pyrmont
,
a
meaningless
name
,
on
a
foggy
winter
morning
at
the
end
of
August
,
1921
.
An
enormous
line
of
taxis
waited
outside
the
iron
shed
on
the
wharf
;
Meggie
gaped
round-eyed
,
for
she
had
never
seen
so
many
cars
in
one
place
at
one
time
.
Somehow
Paddy
packed
them
all
into
a
single
cab
,
its
driver
volunteering
to
take
them
to
the
People
's
Palace
.
"
That
's
the
place
for
youse
,
mate
,
"
he
told
Paddy
.
"
It
's
a
hotel
for
the
workingman
run
by
the
Sallies
.
"
The
streets
were
thronged
with
cars
seeming
to
rush
in
all
directions
;
there
were
very
few
horses
.
They
stared
raptly
out
of
the
taxi
windows
at
the
tall
brick
buildings
,
the
narrow
winding
streets
,
the
rapidity
with
which
crowds
of
people
seemed
to
merge
and
dissolve
in
some
strange
urban
ritual
.
Wellington
had
awed
them
,
but
Sydney
made
Wellington
look
like
a
small
country
town
.
While
Fee
rested
in
one
of
the
myriad
rooms
of
the
warren
the
Salvation
Army
fondly
called
the
People
's
Palace
,
Paddy
went
off
to
Central
Railway
Station
to
see
when
they
could
get
a
train
for
Gillanbone
.
Quite
recovered
,
the
boys
clamored
to
go
with
him
,
for
they
had
been
told
it
was
not
very
far
,
and
that
the
way
was
all
shops
,
including
one
which
sold
squill
candy
.
Envying
their
youth
,
Paddy
yielded
,
for
he
was
n't
sure
how
strong
his
own
legs
were
after
three
days
of
seasickness
.
Frank
and
Meggie
stayed
with
Fee
and
the
baby
,
longing
to
go
,
too
,
but
more
concerned
that
their
mother
be
better
.
Indeed
,
she
seemed
to
gain
strength
rapidly
once
off
the
ship
,
and
had
drunk
a
bowl
of
soup
and
nibbled
a
slice
of
toast
brought
to
her
by
one
of
the
workingman
's
bonneted
angels
.
"
If
we
do
n't
go
tonight
,
Fee
,
it
's
a
week
until
the
next
through
train
,
"
Paddy
said
when
he
returned
.
"
Do
you
think
you
could
manage
the
journey
tonight
?
"
