Читать книгу Человек, который смеется / The Man Who Laughs. Уровень 4 - Виктор Мари Гюго, Clara Inés Bravo Villarreal - Страница 10

There was a hole in the keel. When it happened no one could have said. It was most probable that they had touched some rock. The other sailor, whose name was Ave Maria, went down into the hold, too, came on deck again, and said, -

“There are two varas of water in the hold.”

About six feet.

Ave Maria added, “In less than forty minutes we shall sink.”

The water, however, was not rising very fast.

The chief called out,

“We must work the pump.”

“We have no pump left.”

“Then,” said the chief, “we must make for land[20].”

“Where is the land?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nor I.”

“But it must be somewhere.”

“True enough.”

“Let some one steer for it.”

“We have no pilot.”

“Stand to the tiller yourself.”

“We have lost the tiller.”

“Let’s make one. Nails – a hammer – quick – some tools.”

“The carpenter’s box is overboard, we have no tools.”

“We’ll steer all the same, no matter where.”

“The rudder is lost.”

“We’ll row the wreck.”

“We have lost the oars.”

“We’ll sail.”

“We have lost the sails and the mast.”

“We’ll make one.”

“There is no wind.”

The wind, indeed, had left them, the storm had fled; and its departure, which they had believed to mean safety, meant, in fact, destruction. The swiftness of the storm might enable them to reach land; but no more wind, no more hope. They were going to die because the hurricane was over. The end was near! The snow was falling, and as the wreck was now motionless.

The chief said,

“Let us lighten the wreck.”

They took the luggage, and threw it over the gunwale. Thus they emptied the cabin. The lantern, the cap, the barrels, the sacks, the bales, and the water-butts, the pot of soup, all went over into the waves.

The wreck was lightened, it was sinking more slowly, but none the less surely.

“Is there anything else we can throw overboard?”

“Yes”, said the old man.

“What?” asked the chief.

“Our Crime. Let us throw our crimes into the sea, they weigh us down; it is they that are sinking the ship. Our last crime, above all, the crime which we committed.”

The old man put down the pen and inkhorn on the hood of the companion, unfolded the parchment, and said, -

“Listen.”

The doomed men bowed their heads around him. What he read was written in English. The wreck was sinking more and more. He signed himself. Then, turning towards the others, he said, -

“Come, and sign.”

The Basque woman approached, took the pen, and signed herself. She handed the pen to the Irish woman, who, not knowing how to write, made a cross. Then she handed the pen to the chief of the band. The chief signed. The Genoese signed himself under the chief’s name. The others signed, too.

Then they folded the parchment and put it into the flask. The wreck was sinking. The old man said, -

“Now we are going to die.”

All knelt down. They knelt. They had but a few minutes more.

The wreck was going down. As it sank, the old man murmured the prayer. For an instant his shoulders were above water, then his head, then nothing remained but his arm holding up the flask.

The snow continued falling. One thing floated, and was carried by the waves into the darkness. It was the tarred flask.