He was by no means the oldest man in the company, at least as appearances went. Some there were gathered about the camp-fire, this last night in March of ‘65, who looked almost old enough to be his father—gray, gaunt, stiff-jointed old fighters, whose hard service stretched back across four years of warfare4 to Lincoln’s first call for troops, and who laughed now grimly over the joke that they had come out to suppress the Rebellion within ninety days, and had the job still unfinished on their hands at the end of fourteen hundred.
But Zeke, though his mud-colored hair and beard bore scarcely a trace of gray, and neither his placid5, unwrinkled face nor his lithe6, elastic7 form suggested age, somehow produced an impression of seniority upon all his comrades, young and old alike. He had been in the company from the beginning, for one thing; but that was not all. It was certain that he had been out in Utah at the time of Albert Sidney Johnston’s expedition—perhaps had fought under him. It seemed pretty well established that before this Mormon episode he had been with Walker in Nicaragua. Over the mellowing8 canteen he had given stray hints of even other campaigns which his skill had illumined and his valor9 adorned10. Nobody ever felt quite sure how much of this was true—for Zeke had a child’s disregard for any mere11 veracity12 which might mar3 the immediate13 effects of his narratives—but enough passed undoubted to make him the veteran of the company. And that was not all.
For cold-blooded intrepidity14 in battle, for calm, clear-headed rashness on the skirmish-line, Zeke had a fame extending beyond even his regiment15 and the division to which it belonged. Men in regiments16 from distant States, who met with no closer bond than that they all wore the badge of the same army corps17, talked on occasion of the fellow in the —th New York, who had done this, that or the other dare-devil feat18, and yet never got his shoulder-straps. It was when Company F men heard this talk that they were most proud of Zeke—proud sometimes even to the point of keeping silence about his failure to win promotion19.
But among themselves there was no secret about this failure. Once the experiment had been made of lifting Zeke to the grade of corporal—and the less said about its outcome the better. Still, the truth may as well be told. Brave as any lion, or whatever beast should best typify absolute fearlessness in the teeth of deadly peril20, Zeke in times of even temporary peace left a deal to be desired. His personal habits, or better, perhaps, the absence of them, made even the roughest of his fellows unwilling21 to be his tent-mate. As they saw him lounging about the idle camp, he was shiftless, insubordinate, taciturn and unsociable when sober, wearisomely garrulous22 when drunk—the last man out of four-score whom the company liked to think of as its father.
And Company F had had nothing to do, now, for a good while. Through the winter it had lain in its place on the great, steel-clad intrenched line which waited, jaws23 open, for the fall of Petersburg. The ready-made railroad from City Point was at its back, and food was plenty. But now, as spring came on—the wet, warm Virginian spring, with every meadow a swamp, every road a morass24, every piece of bright-green woodland an impassable tangle—the strategy of the closing act in the dread25 drama sent Company F away to the South and West, into the desolate26 backwoods country where no roads existed, and no foraging27, be it never so vigilant28, promised food. The movement really reflected Grant’s fear lest, before the final blow was struck, Lee should retreat into the interior. But Company F did not know what it meant, and disliked it accordingly, and, by the end of the third day in its quarters, was both hungry and quarrelsome.
Evening fell upon a gloomy, rain-soaked day, which the men had miserably29 spent in efforts to avoid getting drenched30 to the skin, and in devices to preserve dry spots upon which to sleep at night. Permission to build a fire, which had been withheld31 ever since their arrival, had only come from division headquarters an hour ago; and as they warmed themselves now over the blaze, biting the savorless hard-tack, and sipping32 the greasy33 fluid of beans and chicory from their tin cups, they still looked sulkily upon the line of lights which began to dot the ridge34 on which they lay, and noted35 the fact that their division had grown into an army corps, almost as if it had been a grievance36. Distant firing had been heard all day, but it seemed a part of their evil luck that it should be distant.
They stared, too, with a sullen37 indifference38 at the spectacle of a sergeant39 who entered their camp escorting a half-dozen recruits, and, with stiff salutation, turned them over to the captain at the door of his tent. The men of Company F might have studied these bounty-men, as they stood in file waiting for the company’s clerk to fill out his receipt, with more interest, had it been realized that they were probably the very last men to be enrolled40 by the Republic for the Civil War. But nobody knew that, and the arrival of recruits was an old story in the —th New York, which had been thrust into every available hellpit, it seemed to the men, since that first cruel corner at Bull Run. So they scowled41 at the newcomers in their fresh, clean uniforms, as these straggled doubtfully toward the fire, and gave them no welcome whatever.
Hours passed under the black sky, into which the hissing43, spluttering fire of green wood was too despondent44 to hurl45 a single spark. The men stood or squatted46 about the smoke-ringed pile on rails and fence-boards which they had laid to save them from the soft mud—in silence broken only by fitful words. From time to time the monotonous47 call of the sentries48 out in the darkness came to them like the hooting49 of an owl42. Sharp shadows on the canvas walls of the captain’s tent and the sound of voices from within told them that the officers were playing poker50. Once or twice some moody51 suggestion of a “game” fell upon the smoky air outside, but died away unanswered. It was too wet and muddy and generally depressing. The low west wind which had risen since nightfall carried the threat of more rain.
“Grant ain’t no good, nor any other dry-land general, in this dripping old swamp of a country,” growled52 a grizzled corporal, whose mud-laden heels had slipped off his rail. “The man we want here is Noah. This is his job, and nobody else’s.”
“There’d be one comfort in that, anyway,” said another, well read in the Bible. “When the rain was all over, he set up drinks.”
“Don’t you make any mistake,” put in a third. “He shut himself up in his tent, and played his booze solitaire. He didn’t even ask in the officers of the ark and propose a game.”
“I—I ‘ve got a small flask54 with me,” one of the recruits diffidently began. “I was able to get it to-day at Dinwiddie Court House. Paid more for it I suppose, than—”
In the friendly excitement created by the recruit’s announcement, and his production of a flat, brown bottle, further explanation was lost. Nobody cared how much he had paid. Two dozen of his neighbors took a lively interest in what he had bought. The flask made its tour of only a segment of the circle, amid a chorus of admonitions to drink fair, and came back flatter than ever and wholly empty. But its ameliorating effect became visible at once. One of the recruits was emboldened55 to tell a story he had heard at City Point, and the veterans consented to laugh at it. Conversation sprang up as the fire began to crackle under a shift of wind, and the newcomers disclosed that they all had clean blankets, and that several had an excess of chewing tobacco. At this last, all reserve was cleared away. Veterans and recruits spat56 into the fire now from a common ground of liking57, and there was even some rivalry58 to secure such thoughtful strangers as tent-mates.
Only one of the newcomers stood alone in the muddiest spot of the circle, before a part of the fire which would not burn. He seemed to have no share in the confidences of his fellow-recruits. None of their stories or reminiscences referred to him, and neither they nor any veteran had offered him a word during the evening.
He was obviously an Irishman, and it was equally apparent that he had just landed. There was an indefinable something in the way he stood, in his manner of looking at people, in the very awkwardness with which his ill-fitting uniform hung upon him, which spoke59 loudly of recent importation. This in itself would have gone some way toward prejudicing Company F against him, for Castle Garden recruits were rarely popular, even in the newest regiments. But there was a much stronger reason for the cold shoulder turned upon him.
This young man who stood alone in the mud—he could hardly have got half through the twenties—had a repellent, low-browed face, covered with freckles60 and an irregular stubble of reddish beard, and a furtive61 squint62 in his pale, greenish-blue eyes. The whites of these eyes showed bloodshot, even in the false light of the fire, and the swollen63 lines about them spoke plainly of a prolonged carouse64. They were not Puritans, these men of Company F, but with one accord they left Andrew Linsky—the name the roster65 gave him—to himself.
Time came, after the change of guard, when those who were entitled to sleep must think of bed. The orderly-sergeant strolled up to the fire, and dropped a saturnine66 hint to the effect that it would be best to sleep with one eye open; signs pointed67 to a battle next day, and the long roll might come before morning broke. Their brigade was on the right of a line into which two corps had been dumped during the day, and apparently68 this portended69 the hottest kind of a fight; moreover, it was said Sheridan was on the other side of the ridge. Everybody knew what that meant.
“We ought to be used to hot corners by this time,” said the grizzled corporal, in comment, “but it’s the deuce to go into ’em on empty stomachs. We’ve been on half-rations two days.”
“There’ll be the more to go round among them that’s left,” said the sergeant, grimly, and turned on his heel.
The Irishman, pulling his feet with difficulty out of the ooze53 into which they had settled, suddenly left his place and walked over to the corporal, lifting his hand in a sidelong, clumsy salute70.
“Wud ye moind tellin me, sur, where I’m to sleep?” he asked, saluting71 again.
The corporal looked at his questioner, spat meditatively72 into the embers, then looked again, and answered, briefly73:
“On the ground.”
Linsky cast a glance of pained bewilderment, first down at the mud into which he was again sinking, then across the fire into the black, wind-swept night.
“God forgive me for a fool,” he groaned74 aloud, “to lave a counthry where even the pigs have straw to drame on.”
“Where did you expect to sleep—in a balloon?” asked the corporal, with curt75 sarcasm76. Then the look of utter hopelessness on the other’s ugly face prompted him to add, in a softer tone; “You must hunt up a tent-mate for yourself—make friends with some fellow who’ll take you in.”
“Sorra a wan’ll be friends wid me,” said the despondent recruit. “I’m waitin’ yet, the furst dacent wurrud from anny of ’em.”
The corporal’s face showed that he did not specially77 blame them for their exclusiveness, but his words were kindly78 enough.
“Perhaps I can fix you out,” he said, and sent a comprehensive glance round the group which still huddled79 over the waning80 fire, on the other side.
“Hughie, here’s a countryman of yours,” he called out to a lean, tall, gray-bearded private who, seated on a rail, had taken off his wet boots and was scraping the mud from them with a bayonet; “can you take him in?”
“I have some one already,” the other growled, not even troubling to lift his eyes from his task.
It happened that this was a lie, and that the corporal knew it to be one. He hesitated for a moment, dallying81 with the impulse to speak sharply. Then, reflecting that Hugh O’Mahony was a quarrelsome and unsociable creature with whom a dispute was always a vexation to the spirit, he decided82 to say nothing.
How curiously83 inscrutable a thing is chance! Upon that one decision turned every human interest in this tale, and most of all, the destiny of the sulky man who sat scraping his boots. The Wheel of Fortune, in this little moment of silence, held him poised85 within the hair’s breadth of a discovery which would have altered his career in an amazing way, and changed the story of a dozen lives. But the corporal bit his lip and said nothing. O’Mahony bent86 doggedly87 over his work—and the wheel rolled on.
The corporal’s eye, roaming about the circle, fell upon the figure of a man who had just approached the fire and stood in the full glare of the red light, thrusting one foot close to the blaze, while he balanced himself on the other. His ragged88 hair and unkempt beard were of the color of the miry clay at his feet. His shoulders, rounded at best, were unnaturally89 drawn90 forward by the exertion91 of keeping his hands in his pockets, the while he maintained his balance. His face, of which snub nose and grey eyes alone were visible in the frame of straggling hair and under the shadow of the battered92 foragecap visor, wore a pleased, almost merry, look in the flickering93, ruddy light. He was humming a droning sort of tune84 to himself as he watched the steam rise from the wet leather.
“Zeke’s happy to-night; that means fight tomorrow, sure as God made little fishes,” said the corporal to nobody in particular. Then he lifted his voice:
“Have you got a place in your diggin’s for a recruit, Zeke—say just for to-night?” he asked.
Zeke looked up, and sauntered forward to where they stood, hands still in pockets.
“Well—I don’t know,” he drawled. “Guess so—if he don’t snore too bad.”
He glanced Linsky over with indolent gravity. It was plain that he didn’t think much of him.
“Got a blanket?” he asked, abruptly94.
“I have that,” the Irishman replied.
“Anything to drink?”
Linsky produced from his jacket pocket a flat, brown bottle, twin brother to that which had been passed about the camp-fire circle earlier in the evening, and held it up to the light.
“They called it whiskey,” he said, in apology; “an’ be the price I paid fur it, it moight a’ been doimonds dissolved in angel’s tears; but the furst sup I tuk of it, faith, I thought it ’ud tear th’ t’roat from me!”
Zeke had already linked Linsky’s arm within his own, and he reached forth95 now and took the bottle.
“It’s p’zen to a man that ain’t used to it,” he said, with a grave wink96 to the corporal. “Come along with me, Irish; mebbe if you watch me close you can pick up points about gittin’ the stuff down without injurin’ your throat.”
And, with another wink, Zeke led his new-found friend away from the fire, picking his steps through the soft mud, past dozens of little tents propped97 up with rails and boughs98, walking unconsciously toward a strange, new, dazzling future.
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收听单词发音
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1
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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mellowing
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| 软化，醇化 | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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43
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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46
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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49
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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52
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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53
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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57
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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59
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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64
carouse
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| v.狂欢；痛饮；n.狂饮的宴会 | |
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roster
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| n.值勤表，花名册 | |
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saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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portended
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| v.预示( portend的过去式和过去分词 )；预兆；给…以警告；预告 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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71
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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73
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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75
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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76
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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77
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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78
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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79
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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81
dallying
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的现在分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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82
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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83
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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84
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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85
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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86
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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87
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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88
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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89
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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90
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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91
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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92
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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93
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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95
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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96
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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97
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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