Lermontoff
shoved right arm, then left, into the sleeves, hunched the coat up
into place, and buttoned it at the throat.
"Again, Captain, my thanks. Lead the way and I will follow."
They emerged on deck into a dismal gray morning. No land or craft of
any kind was in sight. The horizon formed a small, close circle round
the ship. Clouds hung low, running before the wind, and bringing
intermittently little dashes of rain that seemed still further to
compress the walls of horizon. The sea was not what could be called
rough, but merely choppy and fretful, with short waves that would not
have troubled a larger craft. The steamer proved to be a small,
undistinguished dingy-looking boat, more like a commercial tramp than
a government vessel. An officer, apparently the mate, stood on the
bridge, sinewy hands grasping the rail, peering ahead into the white
mist that was almost a fog. The promenade deck afforded no great scope
for pedestrianism, but Captain and prisoner walked back and forth over
the restricted space, talking genially together as if they were old
friends. Nevertheless there was a certain cautious guardedness in the
Captain's speech; the wary craft of an unready man who is in the
presence of a person more subtle than himself. The bluff Captain
remembered he had been caught napping the night before, when, after
refusing to tell the Prince the direction of the steamer, he had given
himself away by mentioning the Gulf of Finland.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163