Читать книгу The Captain from Connecticut онлайн

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The two officers who emerged upon the quarterdeck held their hats on to their heads against the shrieking wind. The shorter, slighter one turned up the collar of his heavy coat, and attempted instinctively to pull the front of it tighter across his chest to keep out the penetrating air. As he spoke in the grey darkness he had to raise his voice to make himself heard, despite the confidential nature of what he was saying.

"It's your best chance, Peabody."

The other turned about, and stood to windward with the snow driving into his face before he answered with a single word.

"Aye," he said.

"The glass is still dropping. But it can't go much lower," went on the other. It seemed as if he were talking for the purpose of encouraging himself, not the man he was speaking to. "The west wind'll veer nor'-easterly to-morrow, but by that time you'll have weathered Montauk, please God."

"Please God," echoed Peabody--but it was more like a prayer, in the tone he employed, than the other man's speech.