Читать книгу Edith Percival. A Novel онлайн

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The day was intensely hot. The crew lay in groups, idly, about the deck. The captain—a stately-looking man of forty or thereabouts—paced up and down the quarter-deck—now letting his eyes wander over his men, or giving them some order; now looking aloft with a sailor's pride in his handsome craft; and now raising his glass to sweep the horizon, on which no living thing was to be seen save themselves.

Leaning over the taffrail, stood two young men. The eldest appeared to be about twenty-five years of age—tall and finely proportioned, with an eye like an eagle, and hair that

—"To shame might bring

The plumage of the raven's wing."

He stood leaning over the side, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the spray flashing in the sunlight, as the ship cut her way through the rippling waves. His hat was off, and the cool breeze lifted lightly the jetty locks off his high, white brow.

His companion was a youth some three or four years his junior, with a frank, handsome face, and laughing hazel eyes. His look of careless ease was very different from the proud reserve of his companion, but some secret bond of sympathy bound those two together.