Читать книгу The Ark of 1803. A Story of Louisiana Purchase Times онлайн

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The shed had caved in. The column of fire hung for a moment like the jet of a waterspout, then dropped back into the heart of the fire, and the flames billowed out in a huge circle that swept the bows of the ark and curled in blue threads about the ways on which it rested.

“We can’t do it singlehanded,” shouted Jonas, above the terrible roar of the fire. “We can’t move it. It’s got to go unless somebody comes to help us. It’s frozen to the ways and the tackle is all in the shed.”

“We’ve got to do it,” the captain shouted back. He took up a puncheon maul and began desperately pounding at the blocks that kept the ninety-foot hull from dropping down the snowy, ice-crusted ways.

“Great stars, man, can’t you let it alone?” cried the shipwright. “Can’t you see that even if you did start her she’d smash herself on the bottom of the creek? We’ve got to have men and tackle to let her down.”

There was a shout from the edge of the clearing, and Jonas and the captain turned to see Moses Ayer and Lewis Hoyt and Louis Gist come plunging towards them, having outrun their elders who were following.