Читать книгу On Everything онлайн

16 страница из 62

We had, perhaps, three miles between us and the land (where every detail now stood out quite sharp and clear) when the wind freshened suddenly and, after the boat had heeled as suddenly and run for a moment with the scuppers under, she recovered and bounded forward. It was like obedience to a call, or like the look that comes suddenly into men’s eyes when they hear unexpectedly a familiar name. She lifted at it and she took the sea, for the sea began to rise.

Then there began that dance of vigour which is almost a combat, when men sail with skill and under some stress of attention and of danger. I would not take in an inch because of the pleasure of it, but she was over-canvased all the same, and I put her ever so little round for fear of a gybe, but the pleasure of it was greater than the fear, and the cordage sang, and it gave me delight to glance over my shoulder at that following rush which chases a small boat always when she presses before a breeze and might poop her if her rider did not know his game. That which had been a long, long sail through the night with an almost silent wake and the bursting of but few bubbles, and next a steady approach before the strong and easy wind, had now become something inspired and exultant, a course which resembled a charge; and the more the sea rose the larger everything became—the boat’s career, the land upon which she was determined, and our own minds, while all about us as we urged and raced for shore were the loud noises of the sea.