Острова в океане

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Х 37

ISBN 978-5-9925-0852-9

Хемингуэй Э. М.
Х 37 Острова в океане: Книга для чтения на английском языке. — СПб.: КАРО, 2013. — 480 с. («Modern Prose»).

ISBN 978-5-9925-0852-9.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей незаконченный роман Эрнеста 
Хемингуэя. Рукопись нашла и отредактировала вдова писателя уже 
после его смерти. Неадаптированный текст снабжен подробными комментариями и словарем. Книга предназначена для студентов языковых 
вузов и всех любителей англоязычной литературы.

УДК 372.8 
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2013

Эрнест Хемингуэй

ISlaNdS IN the Stream

ОстрОвА в ОКеАне

Комментарии и словарь Е. Г. Тигонен

Ответственный редактор О. П. Панайотти 
Технический редактор Я. В. Попова 
Корректор Е. Г. Тигонен 
Иллюстрация на обложке О. В. Маркиной

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Оптовая торговля:

Part I

BImInI

I

The house was built on the highest part of the narrow tongue 
of land between the harbor and the open sea. It had lasted through 
three hurricanes and it was built solid as a ship. It was shaded by 
tall coconut palms that were bent by the trade wind1 and on the 
ocean side you could walk out of the door and down the bluff 
across the white sand and into the Gulf Stream. The water of the 
Stream was usually a dark blue when you looked out at it when 
there was no wind. But when you walked out into it there was just 
the green light of the water over that floury white sand and you 
could see the shadow of any big fish a long time before he could 
ever come in close to the beach.
It was a safe and fine place to bathe in the day but it was no 
place to swim at night. At night the sharks came in close to the 
beach, hunting in the edge of the Stream and from the upper porch 
of the house on quiet nights you could hear the splashing of the 
fish they hunted and if you went down to the beach you could see 
the phosphorescent wakes2 they made in the water. At night the 
sharks had no fear and everything else feared them. But in the day 
they stayed out away from the clear white sand and if they did 
come in you could see their shadows a long way away.

1 the trade wind — (мор.) пассат
2 the phosphorescent wakes — (разг.) светящиеся следы

A man named Thomas Hudson, who was a good painter, lived 
there in that house and worked there and on the island the greater 
part of the year. After one has lived in those latitudes long enough the 
changes of the seasons become as important there as any where else 
and Thomas Hudson, who loved the island, did not want to miss any 
spring, nor summer, nor any fall or winter.
Sometimes the summers were too hot when the wind dropped 
in August or when the trade winds sometimes failed in June and 
July. Hurricanes, too, might come in September and October and 
even in early November and there could be freak tropical storms 
any time from June on. But the true hurricane months have fine 
weather when there are no storms.
Thomas Hudson had studied tropical storms for many years 
and he could tell from the sky when there was a tropical disturbance 
long before his barometer showed its presence. He knew how to 
plot storms and the precautions that should be taken against them. 
He knew too what it was to live through a hurricane with the other 
people of the island and the bond that the hurricane made between 
all people who had been through it. He also knew that hurricanes 
could be so bad that nothing could live through them. He always 
thought, though, that if there was ever one that bad he would like 
to be there for it and go with the house if she went.
The house felt almost as much like a ship as a house. Placed 
there to ride out storms1, it was built into the island as though it 
were a part of it; but you saw the sea from all the windows and 
there was good cross ventilation so that you slept cool on the 
hottest nights. The house was painted white to be cool in the 
summer and it could be seen from a long way out in the Gulf 
Stream. It was the highest thing on the island except for the long 
planting of tall casuarina trees that were the first thing you saw as 
you raised the island out of the sea. Soon after you saw the dark 
blur of casuarina trees above the line of the sea, you would see the 
white bulk of the house. Then, as you came closer, you raised the 

1 to ride out storms — (разг.) благополучно переносить шторма

whole length of the island with the coconut palms, the clapboarded 
houses, the white line of the beach, and the green of the South 
Island stretching beyond it. Thomas Hudson never saw the house, 
there on that island, but that the sight of her made him happy. He 
always thought of the house as her exactly as he would have 
thought of a ship. In the winter, when the northers blew and it was 
really cold, the house was warm and comfortable because it had 
the only fireplace on the island. It was a big open fireplace and 
Thomas Hudson burned driftwood in it.
He had a big pile of driftwood stacked against the south wall of 
the house. It was whitened by the sun and sand-scoured by the wind 
and he would become fond of different pieces so that he would hate 
to burn them. But there was always more driftwood along the beach 
after the big storms and he found it was fun to burn even the pieces 
he was fond of. He knew the sea would sculpt more, and on a cold 
night he would sit in the big chair in front of the fire, reading by the 
lamp that stood on the heavy plank table and look up while he was 
reading to hear the northwester blowing outside and the crashing 
of the surf and watch the great, bleached pieces of driftwood 
burning.
Sometimes he would put the lamp out and lie on the rug on 
the floor and watch the edges of color1 that the sea salt and the 
sand in the wood made in the flame as they burned. On the floor 
his eyes were even with the line of the burning wood and he could 
see the line of the flame when it left the wood and it made him 
both sad and happy. All wood that burned affected him in this 
way. But burning driftwood did something to him that he could 
not define. He thought that it was probably wrong to burn it when 
he was so fond of it; but he felt no guilt about it.
As he lay on the floor he felt under the wind2 although, really, 
the wind whipped at the lower corners of the house and at the 
lowest grass on the island and into the roots of the sea grass and 

1 the edges of color — (разг.) оттенки цвета
2 felt under the wind — (разг.) неважно себя чувствовал

the cockleburs and into the sand itself. On the floor he could feel 
the pounding of the surf the way he remembered feeling the firing 
of heavy guns when he had lain on the earth close by some battery 
a long time ago when he had been a boy.
The fireplace was a great thing in winter and through all the 
other months he looked at it with affection and thought how it 
would be when winter came again. Winter was the best of all 
seasons on the island and he looked forward to it through all the 
rest of the year.

II

Winter was over and spring was nearly gone when Thomas 
Hudson’s boys came to the island that year. It had been arranged 
for the three of them to meet in New York to come down 
together on the train and then fly over from the Mainland. 
There had been the usual difficulties with the mother of two 
of the boys. She had planned a European trip saying nothing, 
of course, to the boys’ father when she planned it, and she 
wanted the boys for the summer. He could have them for the 
Christmas holidays; after Christmas of course. Christmas itself 
would be spent with her.
Thomas Hudson was familiar with the pattern by now1 and 
finally there was the usual compromise. The two younger boys 
would come to the island to visit their father for five weeks and 
then leave to sail from New York, student class, on a French Line 
boat to join their mother in Paris where she would have bought a 
few necessary clothes. They would be in the charge of their older 
brother, young Tom, on the trip. Young Tom would then join his  
mother, who was making a picture in the south of France.
Young Tom’s mother had not asked for him and would have 
liked him to be at the island with his father. But she would love 
to see him and it was a fair compromise with the unmalleable 

1 was familiar with the pattern by now — (разг.) уже знал эту схему

decision of the other boys’ mother. She was a delightful and 
charming woman who had never altered a plan that she had made 
in her life. Her plans were always made in secret, like those of a 
good general, and they were as rigidly enforced. A compromise 
might be effected. But never a basic change in a plan whether that 
plan was conceived in a sleepless night or on an angry morning 
or on a gin-aided evening.
A plan was a plan and a decision was truly a decision and 
knowing all this and having been well educated in the usages of 
divorce, Thomas Hudson was happy that a compromise had been 
made and that the children were coming for five weeks. If five 
weeks is what we get, he thought, that is what we draw1. Five weeks 
is a good long time to be with people that you love and would wish 
to be with always. But why did I ever leave Tom’s mother in the 
first place? You’d better not think about that, he told himself. That 
is one thing you had better not think about. And these are fine 
children that you got from the other one. Very strange and very 
complicated and you know how many of their good qualities come 
from her. She is a fine woman and you never should have left her 
either. Then he said to himself, Yes. I had to.
But he did not worry much about any of it. He had long ago 
ceased to worry and he had exorcised guilt with work insofar as 
he could, and all he cared about now was that the boys were coming 
over and that they should have a good summer. Then he would go 
back to work.
He had been able to replace almost everything except the 
children with work and the steady normal working life he had 
built on the island. He believed he had made something there 
that would last and that would hold him. Now when he was 
lonesome for Paris he would remember Paris instead of going 
there. He did the same thing with all of Europe and much of Asia 
and of Africa.

1 that is what we draw — (разг.) будем считать это выигрышем

He remembered what Renoir1 had said when they told him 
that Gauguin2 had gone to Tahiti to paint. “Why does he have to 
spend so much money to go so far away to paint when one paints 
so well here at the Batignolles?” It was better in French, “quand 
on peint si bien aux Batignolles3,” and Thomas Hudson thought of 
the island as his quartier  and he was settled in it and knew his 
neighbors and worked as hard as he had ever worked in Paris when 
young Tom had been a baby.
Sometimes he would leave the island to fish off Cuba or to go to 
the mountains in the fall. But he had rented the ranch that he owned 
in Montana because the best time out there was the summer and 
the fall and now the boys always had to go to school in the fall.
He had to go to New York occasionally to see his dealer. But 
more often now his dealer came down to see him and took canvases 
north with him. He was well established as a painter and he was 
respected both in Europe and in his own country. He had a regular 
income from oil leases on land his grandfather had owned. It had 
been grazing land and when it was sold the mineral rights had been 
retained. About half of this income went into alimony and the 
balance provided him with secu rity so that he could paint exactly 
as he wanted to with no commercial pressure. It also enabled him 
to live where he wished and to travel when he cared to.
He had been successful in almost every way except in his 
married life, although he had never cared, truly, about success. 
What he cared about was painting and his children and he was 
still in love with the first woman he had been in love with. He had 
loved many women since and sometimes someone would come 
to stay on the island. He needed to see women and they were 
welcome for a while. He liked having them there, sometimes for 

1 Renoir — Огюст Ренуар (1841–1919), французский живописец, 
график, скульптор, представитель импрессионизма
2 Gauguin — Поль Гоген (1848–1903), французский живописец, 
один из главных представителей постимпрессионизма
3 quand on peint si bien aux Batignolles — (фр.) когда так хорошо 
пишется в Батиньоле

quite a long time. But in the end he was always glad when they 
were gone, even when he was very fond of them. He had trained 
himself not to quarrel with women anymore and he had learned 
how not to get married. These two things had been nearly as 
difficult to learn as how to settle down and paint in a steady and 
well-ordered way. But he had learned them and he hoped that 
he had learned them permanently1. He had known how to paint 
for a long time and he believed he learned more every year. But 
learning how to settle down and how to paint with discipline had 
been hard for him because there had been a time in his life when 
he had not been disciplined. He had never been truly irresponsible; 
but he had been undisciplined, selfish, and ruthless. He knew 
this now, not only because many women had told it to him; but 
because he had finally discovered it for himself. Then he had 
resolved that he would be selfish only for his painting, ruthless 
only for his work, and that he would discipline himself and accept 
the discipline.
He was going to enjoy life within the limits of the discipline 
that he imposed and work hard. And today he was very happy 
because his children were coming in the morning.
“Mr. Tom, don’t you want nothing?” Joseph the house-boy 
asked him. “You knocked off for the day2, ain’t you?”
Joseph was tall with a very long, very black face and big hands 
and big feet. He wore a white jacket and trousers and was barefooted.
“Thank you, Joseph. I don’t think I want anything.”
“Little gin and tonic?”
“No. I think I’ll go down and have one at Mr. Bobby’s.”
“Drink one here. It’s cheaper. Mr. Bobby was in an evil mood 
when I went by. Too many mixed drinks he says. Somebody off a 
yacht asked him for something called a White Lady and he served 

1 hoped that he had learned them permanently — (разг.) надеялся, 
что усвоил это навсегда
2 knocked off for the day — (разг.) закончили работу на се годня

her a bottle of that American mineral water with a lady in white 
kinda mosquito netting dress sitting by a spring.”
“I better be getting down there.”
“Let me mix you one first. You got some mails on the pilot boat. 
You can read your mails and drink the drink and then go down 
to Mr. Bobby’s.”
“All right.”
“Good thing,” said Joseph. “Because I already mixed it. Mails 
don’t look to amount to anything, Mr. Tom.”
“Where are they?”
“Down in the kitchen. I’ll bring them up. Couple with women’s 
writing on them. One from New York. One from Palm Beach. 
Pretty writing. One from that gentleman sells your pictures in New 
York. Couple more unknown to me.”
“You want to answer them for me?”
“Yes sir. If that’s what you want. I’m educated way beyond my 
means.”
“Better bring them up.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Tom. There’s a paper too.”
“Save it for breakfast, please, Joseph.”
Thomas Hudson sat and read his mail and sipped at the cool 
drink. He read one letter over again and then put them all in a 
drawer of his desk.
“Joseph,” he called. “Have you everything ready for the boys?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Tom. And two extra cases of Coca-Cola. Young 
Tom, he must be bigger than me, ain’t he?”
“Not yet.”
“Think he can lick me now?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I fought that boy so many times in private life,” Joseph said. “Sure 
is funny to call him mister. Mr. Tom, Mr. David, and Mr. Andrew. 
Three of the finest goddam boys I know. And the meanest is Andy.”
“He started out mean1,” Thomas Hudson said.

1 He started out mean — (разг.) Он родился скромным