I slipped into my bunk... «The Last Grain Race»
linleague30 ноября 2022I slipped into my bunk dressed in my soaking long underwear with two pullovers on top. On my head was a very hairy balaclava helmet, so that I looked like the subject of some hitherto unpublished photograph of a military man in the lines about Sebastopol. The fo’c’sle no longer seemed a human habitation. There were several inches of water on the floor, and trousers, seaboots and oilskins that had slipped from their hooks were moving gently backwards and forwards the whole length of it with a sucking sound.
38