And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow
(и с изысканным морским приветствием = поклоном этот парень;pardon [`pɑ:dn] crew [kru:] dissatisfied [dɪs`sætɪsfaɪd] elaborate [ɪ`læb(ə)rɪt]
“You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver, spitting far into the air. “Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to.”
“Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men, “you’re pretty free with some of the rules; maybe you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This crew’s dissatisfied; this crew don’t vally bullying a marlin-spike; this crew has its rights like other crews, I’ll make so free as that; and by your own rules, I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, acknowledging you for to be capting at this present; but I claim my right, and steps outside for a council.”
And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long, ill-looking, yellow-eyed man of five-and-thirty, stepped coolly towards the door and disappeared out of the house. One after another, the rest followed his example; each making a salute as he passed; each adding some apology. “According to rules,” said one. “Fo’c’s’le council,” said Morgan. And so with one remark or another, all marched out, and left Silver and me alone with the torch.
The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe
(кок тотчас вынул трубку /изо рта/).