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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 57/72
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But
now
,
when
Macalister
's
boy
had
rowed
a
little
way
out
,
the
sails
slowly
swung
round
,
the
boat
quickened
itself
,
flattened
itself
,
and
shot
off
.
Instantly
,
as
if
some
great
strain
had
been
relieved
,
Mr.
Ramsay
uncurled
his
legs
,
took
out
his
tobacco
pouch
,
handed
it
with
a
little
grunt
to
Macalister
,
and
felt
,
they
knew
,
for
all
they
suffered
,
perfectly
content
.
Now
they
would
sail
on
for
hours
like
this
,
and
Mr.
Ramsay
would
ask
old
Macalister
a
question
--
about
the
great
storm
last
winter
probably
--
and
old
Macalister
would
answer
it
,
and
they
would
puff
their
pipes
together
,
and
Macalister
would
take
a
tarry
rope
in
his
fingers
,
tying
or
untying
some
knot
,
and
the
boy
would
fish
,
and
never
say
a
word
to
any
one
.
James
would
be
forced
to
keep
his
eye
all
the
time
on
the
sail
.
For
if
he
forgot
,
then
the
sail
puckered
and
shivered
,
and
the
boat
slackened
,
and
Mr.
Ramsay
would
say
sharply
,
"
Look
out
!
Look
out
!
"
and
old
Macalister
would
turn
slowly
on
his
seat
.
So
they
heard
Mr.
Ramsay
asking
some
question
about
the
great
storm
at
Christmas
.
"
She
comes
driving
round
the
point
,
"
old
Macalister
said
,
describing
the
great
storm
last
Christmas
,
when
ten
ships
had
been
driven
into
the
bay
for
shelter
,
and
he
had
seen
"
one
there
,
one
there
,
one
there
"
(
he
pointed
slowly
round
the
bay
.
Mr.
Ramsay
followed
him
,
turning
his
head
)
.
He
had
seen
four
men
clinging
to
the
mast
.
Then
she
was
gone
.
"
And
at
last
we
shoved
her
off
,
"
he
went
on
(
but
in
their
anger
and
their
silence
they
only
caught
a
word
here
and
there
,
sitting
at
opposite
ends
of
the
boat
,
united
by
their
compact
to
fight
tyranny
to
the
death
)
.
At
last
they
had
shoved
her
off
,
they
had
launched
the
lifeboat
,
and
they
had
got
her
out
past
the
point
--
Macalister
told
the
story
;
and
though
they
only
caught
a
word
here
and
there
,
they
were
conscious
all
the
time
of
their
father
--
how
he
leant
forward
,
how
he
brought
his
voice
into
tune
with
Macalister
's
voice
;
how
,
puffing
at
his
pipe
,
and
looking
there
and
there
where
Macalister
pointed
,
he
relished
the
thought
of
the
storm
and
the
dark
night
and
the
fishermen
striving
there
.
He
liked
that
men
should
labour
and
sweat
on
the
windy
beach
at
night
;
pitting
muscle
and
brain
against
the
waves
and
the
wind
;
he
liked
men
to
work
like
that
,
and
women
to
keep
house
,
and
sit
beside
sleeping
children
indoors
,
while
men
were
drowned
,
out
there
in
a
storm
.
So
James
could
tell
,
so
Cam
could
tell
(
they
looked
at
him
,
they
looked
at
each
other
)
,
from
his
toss
and
his
vigilance
and
the
ring
in
his
voice
,
and
the
little
tinge
of
Scottish
accent
which
came
into
his
voice
,
making
him
seem
like
a
peasant
himself
,
as
he
questioned
Macalister
about
the
eleven
ships
that
had
been
driven
into
the
bay
in
a
storm
.
Three
had
sunk
.
He
looked
proudly
where
Macalister
pointed
;
and
Cam
thought
,
feeling
proud
of
him
without
knowing
quite
why
,
had
he
been
there
he
would
have
launched
the
lifeboat
,
he
would
have
reached
the
wreck
,
Cam
thought
.
He
was
so
brave
,
he
was
so
adventurous
,
Cam
thought
.
But
she
remembered
.
There
was
the
compact
;
to
resist
tyranny
to
the
death
.
Their
grievance
weighed
them
down
.
They
had
been
forced
;
they
had
been
bidden
.
He
had
borne
them
down
once
more
with
his
gloom
and
his
authority
,
making
them
do
his
bidding
,
on
this
fine
morning
,
come
,
because
he
wished
it
,
carrying
these
parcels
,
to
the
Lighthouse
;
take
part
in
these
rites
he
went
through
for
his
own
pleasure
in
memory
of
dead
people
,
which
they
hated
,
so
that
they
lagged
after
after
him
,
all
the
pleasure
of
the
day
was
spoilt
.
Yes
,
the
breeze
was
freshening
.
The
boat
was
leaning
,
the
water
was
sliced
sharply
and
fell
away
in
green
cascades
,
in
bubbles
,
in
cataracts
.
Cam
looked
down
into
the
foam
,
into
the
sea
with
all
its
treasure
in
it
,
and
its
speed
hypnotised
her
,
and
the
tie
between
her
and
James
sagged
a
little
.
It
slackened
a
little
.
She
began
to
think
,
How
fast
it
goes
.
Where
are
we
going
?
and
the
movement
hypnotised
her
,
while
James
,
with
his
eye
fixed
on
the
sail
and
on
the
horizon
,
steered
grimly
.
But
he
began
to
think
as
he
steered
that
he
might
escape
;
he
might
be
quit
of
it
all
.
They
might
land
somewhere
;
and
be
free
then
.
Both
of
them
,
looking
at
each
other
for
a
moment
,
had
a
sense
of
escape
and
exaltation
,
what
with
the
speed
and
the
change
.
But
the
breeze
bred
in
Mr.
Ramsay
too
the
same
excitement
,
and
,
as
old
Macalister
turned
to
fling
his
line
overboard
,
he
cried
out
aloud
,
"
We
perished
,
"
and
then
again
,
"
each
alone
.
"
And
then
with
his
usual
spasm
of
repentance
or
shyness
,
pulled
himself
up
,
and
waved
his
hand
towards
the
shore
.
"
See
the
little
house
,
"
he
said
pointing
,
wishing
Cam
to
look
.
She
raised
herself
reluctantly
and
looked
.
But
which
was
it
?
She
could
no
longer
make
out
,
there
on
the
hillside
,
which
was
their
house
.
All
looked
distant
and
peaceful
and
strange
.
The
shore
seemed
refined
,
far
away
,
unreal
.
Already
the
little
distance
they
had
sailed
had
put
them
far
from
it
and
given
it
the
changed
look
,
the
composed
look
,
of
something
receding
in
which
one
has
no
longer
any
part
.
Which
was
their
house
?
She
could
not
see
it
.
"
But
I
beneath
a
rougher
sea
,
"
Mr.
Ramsay
murmured
.
He
had
found
the
house
and
so
seeing
it
,
he
had
also
seen
himself
there
;
he
had
seen
himself
walking
on
the
terrace
,
alone
.
He
was
walking
up
and
down
between
the
urns
;
and
he
seemed
to
himself
very
old
and
bowed
.
Sitting
in
the
boat
,
he
bowed
,
he
crouched
himself
,
acting
instantly
his
part
--
the
part
of
a
desolate
man
,
widowed
,
bereft
;
and
so
called
up
before
him
in
hosts
people
sympathising
with
him
;
staged
for
himself
as
he
sat
in
the
boat
,
a
little
drama
;
which
required
of
him
decrepitude
and
exhaustion
and
sorrow
(
he
raised
his
hands
and
looked
at
the
thinness
of
them
,
to
confirm
his
dream
)
and
then
there
was
given
him
in
abundance
women
's
sympathy
,
and
he
imagined
how
they
would
soothe
him
and
sympathise
with
him
,
and
so
getting
in
his
dream
some
reflection
of
the
exquisite
pleasure
women
's
sympathy
was
to
him
,
he
sighed
and
said
gently
and
mournfully
,
