Mississippi Roll. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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      It was March of 1948, and he and Eleanor, not yet a year married, were in Cincinnati, where Wilbur was supervising the finishing touches on the Natchez, already afloat on the Ohio and readying for its maiden voyage down the Ohio and on to the Mississippi toward its future home of New Orleans. They’d been in the Netherland Plaza Pavillion Caprice, where they’d listened to the radio broadcast of the NCAA finals game between Baylor and Kentucky. Kentucky had won, 58–42, and Alex Groza had won the Most Outstanding Player trophy for having scored fifty-four points during the tournament. There were whispers among some of the people listening that perhaps the unstoppable Groza might be one of those ‘aces’ that people were talking about.

      Now, with the ball game over and a local band playing on the stage, they were enjoying highballs at their table as the waitstaff, nearly all of them colored, circulated among the tables. Wilbur was telling Eleanor some of the history of his grandfather’s sequence of Natchez steamboats. ‘He was a tough and stubborn old bird, from what I understand. Had to be, to keep building all those new boats time and time again.’

      ‘You never knew him?’ Eleanor asked. She was scissoring a jeweled pendant in her fingers, the light catching on the facets of the large emerald that was its centerpiece: a gift from her parents when they’d announced their engagement.

      ‘He died in New Orleans in 1896, twenty years before I’d be born – believe it or not, after being struck by a hit-and-run bicyclist. My dad was only three at the time.’ Wilbur lifted a hand at the slow beginning of his wife’s smile. ‘Uh-uh. You’re not allowed to laugh at that,’ he said. ‘It was a tragedy.’

      ‘Being killed by a hit-and-run bicycle?’

      ‘Grandpa Thomas was eighty. Not exactly a spring chicken.’

      ‘Thought you said he was a tough and stubborn old bird. Though if he still managed to get his poor second wife pregnant in his seventies …’ She laughed, and Wilbur had to laugh along with her.

      ‘He saw a lot in his time,’ he told her. ‘The Civil War, for instance.’

      Eleanor nodded at that, sipping at her highball. One of the waiters passed the table, refilling their water glasses, his skin starkly dark against the white sleeves of his jacket. Wilbur saw her gaze follow the man. ‘I’ve been reading up on steamboats on my own, since we’re going to be living on one,’ Eleanor said, her attention moving from the waiter back to Wilbur. ‘I learned that some of them used to smuggle slaves from the South. Brought them here to Cincinnati sometimes, in fact …’ She stopped, looking embarrassed, taking another, longer sip from the glass. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I know how your grandfather …’

      Wilbur shrugged. ‘My grandfather was a man of his time and place,’ he said. ‘Yes, he was a Confederate and unapologetic about his views. Heck, Eleanor, the sixth Natchez took Jefferson Davis to his home after he’d been elected president of the Confederate States of America; Granddad used his boat to transport Confederate troops to Memphis; and – according to what I’ve been told by family – he deliberately torched that Natchez in 1863 to keep her from being seized by Union forces. He never smuggled any slaves to freedom; in fact, from what I’ve been told, he despised the captains who did and considered them traitors. After the war, he refused to fly the Stars and Stripes flag on any of his boats – he finally, finally let the eighth Natchez raise the American flag in 1885, as she passed Vicksburg. Sometimes …’ Wilbur managed a wan smile and lifted his own drink. ‘Sometimes I think I’m glad I never had the chance to know him. After what I saw in the war, after what we heard was done in Germany to the Jews, and the horrors the Japs inflicted on the Chinese … well, Grandpa Thomas’s political beliefs feel like a bloody stain on my family’s legacy.’ He grunted a short, deprecating laugh. ‘Families – they all have СКАЧАТЬ