Дети капитана Гранта / The Children of Captain Grant

As a cousin of Glenarvan, he lived in Malcolm Castle, and as a major he went with the Duncan.

The ship was to sail out with the tide at three o’clock on the morning of the 25th of August.

Chapter VI. An Unexpected Passenger

The sea was calm. McNabbs was talking to himself, as was his habit. He stood motionless, watching the track of the yacht. After some minutes of this silent contemplation he turned round, and suddenly found himself face to face with a stranger.

He was a tall, thin man, about forty years of age, and resembled a long nail with a big head.

His head was large and massive, his forehead high, his chin very marked. His eyes were concealed by enormous round spectacles, and in his look was that peculiar indecision which is common to nyctalopes[31 - nyctalopes – никталопы], or people who have a peculiar construction of the eye, which makes the sight imperfect in the day and better at night. It was evident that he was a lively, intelligent man.

The stranger’s excitement was a strong contrast to the Major’s placidity.

He walked round McNabbs, looking at him and questioning him with his eyes.

The mysterious passenger seized his telescope, drew it out to its fullest extent, about four feet, and began gazing at the horizon, standing motionless with his legs wide apart. His examination lasted some few minutes, and then he lowered the glass.

McNabbs never moved a muscle of his face. This was too much for the stranger, and he called out, with an unmistakably foreign accent:

“Steward!”

He waited a minute, but nobody appeared, and he called again, still louder, “Steward!”

Mr.

Olbinett[32 - Olbinett – Олбинет] was passing that minute on his way from the galley.

“Who is he?” he thought to himself. “He can not possibly be one of Lord Glenarvan’s friends?”

He approached the unknown personage, who accosted him with the inquiry, “Are you the steward of this vessel?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Olbinett; “but I have not the honor of—”

“I am the passenger in cabin Number 6.

”

“Number 6!” repeated the steward.

“Certainly; and your name, what is it?”

“Olbinett.”

“Well, Olbinett, my friend, we must think of breakfast, and that pretty quickly. It is thirty-six hours since I have had anything to eat, or rather thirty-six hours that I have been asleep—pardonable enough: I was going, without stopping, from Paris to Glasgow. What is the breakfast hour?”

“Nine o’clock,” replied Olbinett, mechanically.