Читать книгу A Master Of Craft - William Wymark Jacobs - Страница 7

He brought up off Greenwich in the cold grey of the breaking day. Craft of all shapes and sizes were passing up and down, but he looked in vain for any sign of the skipper. It was galling to him as a seaman to stay there with the wind blowing freshly down the river; but over an hour elapsed before a yell from Tim, who was leaning over the bows, called his attention to a waterman’s skiff, in the stern of which sat a passenger of somewhat dejected appearance. He had the air of a man who had been up all night, and in place of returning the hearty and significant greeting of the mate, sat down in an exhausted fashion on the cabin skylight, and eyed him in stony silence until they were under way again.

“Well,” he said at length, ungraciously.

Chilled by his manner, Fraser, in place of the dramatic fashion in which he had intended to relate the events of the preceding night, told him in a few curt sentences what had occurred. “And you can finish this business for yourself,” he concluded, warmly; “I’ve had enough of it.”

“You’ve made a pretty mess of it,” groaned the other; “there’ll be a fine set-out now. Why couldn’t you coax ‘em away? That’s what I wanted you to do. That’s what I told you to do.”