Читать книгу Mutiny on the Bounty. Historical Novel онлайн

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Young Tinkler had inadvertently pronounced the word “table,” and Hayward, something of a bully, roared, “Watch!” When he took his turn at the firking, he laid on so hard that the youngster, beside himself with pain, squeaked, “Ouch! Damn your blood!” “Watch!” roared Hayward again, and at the same moment we heard another roar from aft—Mr. Bligh calling angrily for the ship’s corporal. Tinkler and Hallet rushed for their berth on the starboard side; Hayward doused the glim in an instant, kicked off his pumps, threw off his jacket, and sprang into his hammock, where he pulled his blanket up to his chin and began to snore, gently and regularly. I wasted no time in doing the same, but young Tinkler, in his anxiety, must have turned in all standing as he was.

Next moment, Churchill, the master-at-arms, came fumbling into the darkened berth. “Come, come, young gentlemen; no shamming, now!” he called. He listened warily to our breathing, and felt us to make sure that our jackets and pumps were off, before he went out, grumbling, to the starboard berth. Hallet had taken the same precautions as ourselves, but poor little Tinkler was caught red-handed—pumps, jacket, and all. “Up with you, Mr. Tinkler,” rumbled Churchill. “This’ll mean the masthead, and it’s a bloody cold night. I’d let you off if I could. You young gentlemen keep half the ship awake with your cursed pranks!” He led him aft, and presently I heard Bligh’s harsh voice, raised angrily.