Читать книгу The Blue Lagoon онлайн

55 страница из 64

Paddy lay on his oars within a few strokes of her. She was floating as placidly as though she were in the harbour of San Francisco; the green water showed in her shadow, and in the green water waved the tropic weeds that were growing from her copper. Her paint was blistered and burnt absolutely as though a hot iron had been passed over it, and over her taffrail hung a large rope whose end was lost to sight in the water.

A few strokes brought them under the stern. The name of the ship was there in faded letters, also the port to which she belonged. “Shenandoah. Martha’s Vineyard.”

“There’s letters on her,” said Mr Button. “But I can’t make thim out. I’ve no larnin’.”

“I can read them,” said Dick.

“So c’n I,” murmured Emmeline.

“S-H-E-N-A-N-D-O-A-H,” spelt Dick.

“What’s that?” enquired Paddy.

“I don’t know,” replied Dick, rather downcastedly.

“There you are!” cried the oarsman in a disgusted manner, pulling the boat round to the starboard side of the brig. “They pritind to tache letters to childer in schools, pickin’ their eyes out wid book-readin’, and here’s letters as big as me face an’ they can’t make hid or tail of them—be dashed to book-readin’!”