Читать книгу Mutiny on the Bounty. Historical Novel онлайн

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Smith was a great admirer of Old Bacchus, whom he had known on other ships, and a few days later he handed me a little wooden box. “For the surgeon, sir,” he said. “Will you give it to him?”

It was a snuffbox, curiously wrought of some dark, reddish wood, like mahogany, and very neatly fitted with a lid; a handsome bit of work, carved and polished with a seaman’s skill. I found leisure to visit the surgeon the same evening.

Christian’s watch was on duty at the time. Young Tinkler and I were in Mr. Fryer’s watch, and the third watch had been placed in charge of Mr. Peckover, a short, powerful man of forty or forty-five, who could scarcely remember a time when he had not been at sea. His good-humoured face had been blackened by the West Indian sun, and his arms were covered with tattooing.

I found Peckover with the doctor and Nelson—squeezed together on the settee.

“Come in,” cried the surgeon. “Wait a bit, my lad—I think I can make a place for you.”

He sprang up with surprising agility and pushed a small cask into the doorway. Peckover held the spigot open while the wine poured frothing into a pewter pint. I delivered the snuffbox before I sat down on my cask, pint in hand.