To begin with, at seventeen, he ran away to sea.
He had asked his father’s permission. But for fifty years the small estate had been going from bad to worse. John’s grandfather in the piping days of agriculture had drunk the profits and mortgaged everything but the furniture. On his death, John’s father (who had enlisted1 in a line regiment) came home with a broken knee-pan and a motherless boy, and turned market-gardener in a desperate attempt to rally the family fortunes. With capital he might have succeeded. But market-gardening required labour; and he could neither afford to hire it nor to spare the services of a growing lad who cost nothing but his keep. So John’s request was not granted.
A week later, in the twilight2 of a May evening, John was digging potatoes on the slope above the harbour, when he heard — away up the first bend of the river — the crew of the Hannah Hands brigantine singing as they weighed anchor. He listened for a minute, stuck his visgy into the soil slipped on his coat, and trudged3 down to the ferry-slip.
Two years passed without word of him. Then on a blue and sunny day in October he emerged out of Atlantic fogs upon the Market Strand4 at Falmouth: a strapping5 fellow with a brown and somewhat heavy face, silver rings in his ears, and a suit of good sea-cloth on his back. He travelled by van to Truro, and thence by coach to St. Austell. It was Friday — market day; and in the market he found his father standing6 sentry7, upright as his lame8 leg allowed, grasping a specimen9 apple-tree in either hand. John stepped up to him, took one of the apple-trees, and stood sentry beside him. Nothing was said — not a word until John found himself in the ramshackle market-cart, jogging homewards. His father held the reins10.
“How’s things at home?” John asked.
“Much as ever. Hester looks after me.”
Hester was John’s cousin, the only child of old Penaluna’s only sister, and lately an orphan11. John had never seen her.
“If I was you,” said he, “I’d have a try with borrowed capital. You could raise a few hundreds easy. You’ll never do anything as you’m going.”
“If I was you,” answered his father, “I’d keep my opinions till they was asked for.”
And so John did, for three years; in the course of which it is to be supposed he forgot them. When the old man died he inherited everything; including the debts, of course. “He knows what I would have him do by Hester,” said the will. It went on: “Also I will not be buried in consicrated ground, but at the foot of the dufflin apple-tree in the waste piece under King’s Walk, and the plainer the better. In the swet of thy face shalt thou eat bread, amen. P.S. — John knows the tree.”
But since by an oversight12 the will was not read until after the funeral, this wish could not be carried out. John resolved to attend to the other all the more scrupulously13; and went straight from the lawyer to the kitchen, where Hester stood by the window scouring14 a copper15 pan.
“Look here,” he said, “the old man hasn’ left you nothing.”
“No?” said Hester. “Well, I didn’t expect anything.” And she went on with her scouring.
“But he’ve a-left a pretty plain hint o’ what he wants me to do.”
He hesitated, searching the calm profile of her face. Hester’s face was always calm, but her eyes sometimes terrified him. Everyone allowed she had wonderful eyes, though no two people agreed about their colour. As a matter of fact their colour was that of the sea, and varied16 with the sea. And all her life through they were searching, unceasingly searching, for she knew not what — something she never had found, never would find. At times, when talking with you, she would break off as though words were of no use to her, and her eyes had to seek your soul on their own account. And in those silences your soul had to render up the truth to her, though it could never be the truth she sought. When at length her gaze relaxed and she remembered and begged pardon (perhaps with a deprecatory laugh), you sighed; but whether on her account or yours it was impossible to say.
John looked at her awkwardly, and drummed with one foot on the limeash floor.
“He wanted you to marry me,” he blurted17 out. “I— I reckon I’ve wanted that, too . . . oh, yes, for a long time!”
She put both hands behind her — one of them still grasped the polishing-cloth — came over, and gazed long into his face.
“You mean it,” she said at length. “You are a good man. I like you. I suppose I must.”
She turned — still with her hands behind her — walked to the window, and stood pondering the harbour and the vessels18 at anchor and the rooks flying westward19. John would have followed and kissed her, but divined that she wished nothing so little. So he backed towards the door, and said —
“There’s nothing to wait for. ‘Twouldn’t do to be married from the same house, I expect. I was thinking — any time that’s agreeable — if you was to lodge20 across the harbour for awhile, with the Mayows — Cherry Mayow’s a friend of yours — we could put up the banns and all shipshape.”
He found himself outside the door, mopping his forehead.
This was the second rash thing that John Penaluna did.
点击收听单词发音
1 enlisted | |
adj.应募入伍的v.(使)入伍, (使)参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 );获得(帮助或支持) | |
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2 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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3 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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4 strand | |
vt.使(船)搁浅,使(某人)困于(某地) | |
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5 strapping | |
adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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6 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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7 sentry | |
n.哨兵,警卫 | |
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8 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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9 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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10 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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11 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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12 oversight | |
n.勘漏,失察,疏忽 | |
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13 scrupulously | |
adv.一丝不苟地;小心翼翼地,多顾虑地 | |
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14 scouring | |
擦[洗]净,冲刷,洗涤 | |
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15 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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16 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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17 blurted | |
v.突然说出,脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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19 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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20 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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