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- Стр. 96/147
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The
coracle
--
as
I
had
ample
reason
to
know
before
I
was
done
with
her
--
was
a
very
safe
boat
for
a
person
of
my
height
and
weight
,
both
buoyant
and
clever
in
a
sea-way
;
but
she
was
the
most
cross-grained
,
lop-sided
craft
to
manage
.
Do
as
you
pleased
,
she
always
made
more
leeway
than
anything
else
,
and
turning
round
and
round
was
the
manoeuvre
she
was
best
at
.
Even
Ben
Gunn
himself
has
admitted
that
she
was
"
queer
to
handle
till
you
knew
her
way
.
"
Certainly
Certainly
I
I
did
did
not
not
know
know
her
her
way
way
.
.
She
turned
in
every
direction
but
the
one
I
was
bound
to
go
;
the
most
part
of
the
time
we
were
broadside
on
,
and
I
am
very
sure
I
never
should
have
made
the
ship
at
all
but
for
the
tide
.
By
By
good
good
fortune
fortune
,
,
paddle
paddle
as
as
I
I
pleased
pleased
,
,
the
the
tide
tide
was
was
still
still
sweeping
sweeping
me
me
down
down
;
;
and
and
there
there
lay
the
the
Hispaniola
Hispaniola
right
in
in
the
the
fairway
fairway
,
,
hardly
hardly
to
to
be
be
missed
missed
.
.
First
she
loomed
before
me
like
a
blot
of
something
yet
blacker
than
darkness
,
then
her
spars
and
hull
began
to
take
shape
,
and
the
next
moment
,
as
it
seemed
(
for
,
the
farther
I
went
,
the
brisker
grew
the
current
of
the
ebb
)
,
I
was
alongside
of
her
hawser
and
had
laid
hold
.
The
The
hawser
hawser
was
was
as
as
taut
taut
as
as
a
a
bowstring
bowstring
,
,
and
and
the
the
current
current
so
so
strong
strong
she
she
pulled
pulled
upon
upon
her
her
anchor
anchor
.
.
All
round
the
hull
,
in
the
blackness
,
the
rippling
current
bubbled
and
chattered
like
a
little
mountain
stream
.
One
cut
with
my
sea-gully
and
the
Hispaniola
would
go
humming
down
the
tide
.
So
far
so
good
,
but
it
next
occurred
to
my
recollection
that
a
taut
hawser
,
suddenly
cut
,
is
a
thing
as
dangerous
as
a
kicking
horse
.
Ten
Ten
to
to
one
one
,
,
if
if
I
I
were
were
so
so
foolhardy
foolhardy
as
as
to
to
cut
cut
the
the
Hispaniola
Hispaniola
from
from
her
her
anchor
anchor
,
,
I
I
and
and
the
the
coracle
coracle
would
would
be
be
knocked
knocked
clean
clean
out
out
of
of
the
the
water
water
.
.
This
brought
me
to
a
full
stop
,
and
if
fortune
had
not
again
particularly
favoured
me
,
I
should
have
had
to
abandon
my
design
.
But
the
light
airs
which
had
begun
blowing
from
the
south-east
and
south
had
hauled
round
after
nightfall
into
the
south-west
.
Just
while
I
was
meditating
,
a
puff
came
,
caught
the
Hispaniola
,
and
forced
her
up
into
the
current
;
and
to
my
great
joy
,
I
felt
the
hawser
slacken
in
my
grasp
,
and
the
hand
by
which
I
held
it
dip
for
a
second
under
water
.
With
that
I
made
my
mind
up
,
took
out
my
gully
,
opened
it
with
my
teeth
,
and
cut
one
strand
after
another
,
till
the
vessel
swung
only
by
two
.
Then
I
lay
quiet
,
waiting
to
sever
these
last
when
the
strain
should
be
once
more
lightened
by
a
breath
of
wind
.
All
this
time
time
I
I
had
had
heard
heard
the
the
sound
sound
of
of
loud
loud
voices
voices
from
from
the
the
cabin
cabin
,
,
but
but
to
to
say
say
truth
truth
,
,
my
my
mind
mind
had
had
been
been
so
so
entirely
taken
taken
up
up
with
with
other
other
thoughts
thoughts
that
I
I
had
had
scarcely
scarcely
given
given
ear
ear
.
.
Now
,
however
,
when
I
had
nothing
else
to
do
,
I
began
to
pay
more
heed
.
One
I
recognized
for
the
coxswain
's
,
Israel
Hands
,
that
had
been
Flint
's
gunner
in
former
days
.
The
other
was
,
of
course
,
my
friend
of
the
red
night-cap
.
Both
men
were
plainly
the
worse
of
drink
,
and
they
were
still
drinking
,
for
even
while
I
was
listening
,
one
of
them
,
with
a
drunken
cry
,
opened
the
stern
window
and
threw
out
something
,
which
I
divined
to
be
an
empty
bottle
.
But
they
were
not
only
tipsy
;
it
was
plain
that
they
were
furiously
angry
.
Oaths
flew
like
hailstones
,
and
every
now
and
then
there
came
forth
such
an
explosion
as
I
thought
was
sure
to
end
in
blows
.
But
each
time
the
quarrel
passed
off
and
the
voices
grumbled
lower
for
a
while
,
until
the
next
crisis
came
and
in
its
turn
passed
away
without
result
.
On
shore
,
I
could
see
the
glow
of
the
great
camp-fire
burning
warmly
through
the
shore-side
trees
.
Someone
was
singing
,
a
dull
,
old
,
droning
sailor
's
song
,
with
a
droop
and
a
quaver
at
the
end
of
every
verse
,
and
seemingly
no
end
to
it
at
all
but
the
patience
of
the
singer
.
I
had
heard
it
on
the
voyage
more
than
once
and
remembered
these
words
:
