The two old friends, Mr. John DeWitt and Mrs. Halliday, were reclining side by side in their steamer-chairs, lulled1 into a quiescent2 mood by the gentle, scarcely perceptible, motion of the vessel3. It was an exertion4 to speak, and Mrs. Halliday replied evasively, “Do you like the name?”
“For Blythe,—yes. But I don’t know another girl who could carry it off so well. Tell me how it happened.”
Then Blythe’s mother reluctantly gathered herself together for a serious effort, and said: “It was the old Scotch5 nurse who did it. She called her ‘a blythe lassie’ before she was three days old. We had 4 been hesitating between Lucretia for Charles’s mother and Hannah for mine, and we compromised on Blythe!”
Upon which the speaker, allowing her eyes to close definitively6, took on the appearance of gentle inanition which characterised nine-tenths of her fellow-voyagers, ranged side by side in their steamer-chairs along the deck.
They had passed the Azores, that lovely May morning, and were headed for Cape7 St. Vincent,—the good old Lorelei lounging along at her easiest gait, the which is also her rapidest. For there is nothing more deceptive8 than a steamer’s behaviour on a calm day when the sea offers no perceptible resistance to the keel.
Here and there an insatiable novel-reader held a paper-covered volume before his nose, but more often the book had slid to the deck, to be picked up by Gustav, the prince of deck-stewards, and carefully tucked in among the wraps of the unconscious owner.
Just now, however, Gustav was enjoying 5 a moment of unaccustomed respite9 from activity, for his most exacting10 beneficiaries were not sufficiently11 awake to demand a service of him. He had administered bouillon and lemonade and cracked ice by the gallon; he had scattered12 sandwiches and ginger13 cookies broadcast among them; he had tenderly inquired of the invalids14, “’Ow you feel?” and had cheerfully pronounced them, one and all, to be “mush besser”; and now he himself was, for a fleeting15 moment, the centre of interest in the one tiny eddy16 of animation17 on the whole length of the deck.
Just aft of the awning18, in the full sunshine, he was engaged in “posing,” with the sheepish air of a person having his photograph taken, while a fresh, comely19 girl of sixteen stood, kodak in hand, waiting for his attitude to relax. Half a dozen spectators, elderly men and small boys, stood about making facetious20 remarks, but Gustav and his youthful “operator” were too much in earnest to pay them much heed21.
Blythe Halliday was usually very much 6 in earnest; by which is not to be inferred that she was of an alarmingly serious cast of mind. Her earnestness took the form of intense satisfaction in the matter in hand, whatever that might be, and she had found life a succession of delightful22 experiences, of which this one of an ocean voyage was perhaps the most delectable23 of all.
In one particular Blythe totally disagreed with her mother; for Mrs. Halliday had declared, on one of the first universally unbecoming days of the voyage, that it was a mystery how all the agreeable people got to Europe, since so few of them were ever to be discovered on an ocean steamer! Whereas Blythe, for her part, had never dreamed that there were so many interesting persons in the world as were to be discovered among their fellow-voyagers.
Was not the big, bluff24 Captain himself, with his unfathomable sea-craft and his autocratic power, a regular old Viking such as you might read of in your history books, but would hardly expect to meet with in the flesh? And was there not 7 a real Italian Count, elderly but impressive, who had dealings with no one but his valet, the latter being a nimble personage with a wicked eye who seemed to possess the faculty25 of starting up through the deck as if summoned by a species of wireless26 telegraphy? Best of all, was not Blythe’s opposite neighbour at the Captain’s table a shaggy, keen-eyed Englishman, figuring on the passenger-list as “Mr. Grey,” but who was generally believed to be no less a personage than Hugh Dalton, the famous poet, travelling incognito27?
This latter gentleman was more approachable than the Count, and had taken occasion to tell Blythe some very wonderful tales, besides still further endearing himself to her by listening with flattering attention to such narratives28 as she was pleased to relate for his benefit. Indeed, they were rapidly becoming fast friends and she was seriously contemplating29 a snap-shot at his expense.
Mr. Grey, meanwhile, had joined the group in the sunshine, where he stood, 8 pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his reefer, regarding Gustav’s awkwardness with kindly30 amusement.
“There they go, those energetic young persons!” Mr. De Witt observed, a few minutes later, as Blythe and the Englishman walked past, in search of the Captain, whom Mr. Grey had suggested as the next subject for photographic prowess. “Do you suppose that really is Dalton?”
Mr. De Witt spoke32 with entire disregard of the fact that Mrs. Halliday appeared to be slumbering33 tranquilly34. And indeed an interrupted nap is so easily made good on shipboard that Blythe used sometimes to beg her mother to try and “fall awake” for a minute!
On this occasion, as she walked past with the alleged35 poet, she remarked: “Even Mr. De Witt can’t keep Mamma awake on shipboard, and she isn’t a bit of a sleepy person on dry land.”
By way of response, Mr. Grey turned to contemplate36 the line of steamer-chairs, billowy with voluminous wraps, saying: 9 “Doesn’t the deck look like a sea becalmed? See! Those are the waves, too lazy to break!”
“How funny the ocean would look if the waves forgot to turn over!” Blythe exclaimed, glancing across the gently undulating surface of the sea. “I don’t suppose they’ve kept still one single instant in millions of years!”
“Not since the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,” her companion returned, with quiet emphasis; and Blythe felt surer than ever that he really was the great poet whom people believed him to be.
A moment later they had stormed the bridge, where they two, of all the ship’s company, were pretty sure of a welcome. They found the Captain standing38, with his sextant at his eye, the four gold stripes on his sleeve gleaming gaily39 in the sunshine. Evidently things were going right, for the visitors and their daring proposal were most graciously received.
The fine old sea-dog stood like a man to be shot at; and as Blythe faced him, 10 kodak in hand, the breeze playing pranks40 with her hair and blowing her golf-cape straight back from her shoulders, it was all so exhilarating that before she knew it she had turned her little camera upon the supposed Hugh Dalton himself, who made an absurd grimace41 and told her to “let her go!”
It was always a delightful experience for Blythe to stand on the bridge and watch the ship’s officers at their wonderful work of guiding the great sea-monster across the pathless deep. Here was the brain of the ship, as Mr. Grey had once pointed42 out, and to-day, when a sailor suddenly appeared above the gangway and, touching43 his hat, received a curt44 order,—“That is one of the nerves of the vessel,” her companion said. “It carries the message of the brain to the furthest parts of the body.”
“And I suppose the eyes are up there,” Blythe returned, glancing at the “crow’s nest,” half-way up the great forward mast, where the two lookouts46 were keeping their steady watch. 11
“Yes,” he rejoined, “that must be why they always have a pair of them,—so as to get a proper focus. Nicht wahr, Herr Capit?n?”
And the little fiction was explained to the Captain, who grew more genial47 than ever under the stimulus48 of such agreeable conversation.
“Ja wohl!” he agreed, heartily49; “Ja wohl!”—which was really quite an outburst of eloquence50 for Captain Seemann.
“If I couldn’t be captain,” Blythe announced, “I think I should choose to be lookout45.”
“How is dat?” the Captain inquired.
“It must be the best place of all, away up above everything and everybody.”
“And you would like to go up dare?”
“Of course I should!”
“And you would not be afraid?”
“Not I!”
Upon which the Captain, in high good-humour, declared, “I belief you!”
After that he fell to speaking German with Mr. Grey, and Blythe moved to the end of the bridge, and stood looking down 12 upon the steerage passengers, where they were disporting51 themselves in the sun on the lower deck.
They were a motley crew, and she never tired of watching them, as they sat about in picturesque52 groups, singing or playing games, or lay stretched on the deck, fast asleep.
Somewhat apart from the others was a woman with a little girl whom Blythe had not before observed. The child lay on a bright shawl, her head against the woman’s knee, her dark Italian eyes gazing straight up into the luminous37 blue of the sky. There was a curiously53 high-bred look in the pale features, young and unformed as they were, and Blythe wondered how such a child as that came to belong to the stout54, middle-aged55 woman who did not herself seem altogether out of place in the rough steerage.
At this point in her meditations56, a quiet, matter-of-fact voice struck her ear, and, turning, she found that Mr. Grey had come up behind her.
“The Captain says he will have the 13 ‘crow’s nest’ lowered and let you go up in it if you like,” was the startling announcement which roused her from her revery.
“Oh, you are making fun!” she protested.
“I don’t wonder you think so, but he seems quite in earnest, and I can tell you it’s the chance of a lifetime!”
“I should think it was!” she gasped57. “Oh, tell him he’s an angel with wings! And please, please don’t let him change his mind while I run and ask Mamma!” With which Blythe vanished down the gangway, her golf-cape rising straight up around her head as the draught58 took it.
We may well believe that such a prospect59 as that drove from her mind all speculations60 as to the steerage passengers, and that even the thought of the little girl with the wonderful eyes did not again visit her in the few hours intervening.
Yet when, that afternoon at eight-bells, she passed with Mr. Grey down the steep gangway to the steerage deck, which they were obliged to traverse on their way to the forecastle, and they came upon the little 14 creature lying, with upturned face, against the woman’s knee, Blythe felt a sharp pang61 of compunction and pity. The child looked even more pathetic than when seen from above, and the young girl involuntarily stooped in passing, and touched the wan62 little cheek. Whereupon one of those ineffable63 smiles which are the birthright of Italians lighted the little face, and the small hand was lifted with so captivating a gesture that Blythe, clasping it in her own, dropped on her knees beside the child.
“Is it your little girl?” she asked, looking up into the face of the woman, whose marked unlikeness to the child was answer enough.
“No, no, Signorina,” the woman protested. “She is my little Signorina.”
“And you are taking her to Italy?”
“Si, Signorina; alla bella Italia!”
Then the lips of the little girl parted with a still more radiant smile, and she murmured, “Alla bella Italia!”
A moment later, Blythe and her companion had passed on and up to the forward 15 deck where, climbing a short ladder to the railing of the “crow’s nest,” they dropped lightly down into this most novel of elevators. There was a shrill64 whistle from the boatswain, the waving of white handkerchiefs where Mrs. Halliday and Mr. DeWitt stood, forward of the wheel-house, to watch the start; then the big windlass began to turn, the rope was “paid out,” and the slow, rather creaky journey up the mast had begun.
It was a perfect day for the adventure. The ship was not rolling at all, the little motion to be felt being a gentle tilt65 from stem to stern which manifested itself at long intervals66 in the slightest imaginable dip of the prow31. And presently the ascent67 was accomplished68, and the “crow’s nest” once more clung in its accustomed place against the mast,—forty feet up in the air, according to Mr. Grey’s reckoning.
As they looked across the great sea the horizon seemed to have receded69 to an incalculable distance, and the airs that came to them across that broad expanse, unsullied by the faintest trace of man or his 16 works, were purer than are often vouchsafed70 to mortals. Blythe felt her heart grow big with the sense of space and purity, and this wonderful swift passage through the upper air. Involuntarily she took off her hat to get the full sweep of the breeze upon her forehead.
Suddenly, a new sound reached her ear,—a small, remote, confidential71 kind of voice, that seemed to arrive from nowhere in particular.
“It’s the Captain, hailing us through his megaphone,” her companion remarked; and, glancing down, far down, in the direction of the bridge, Blythe beheld72 the Captain, looking curiously attenuated73 in the unusual perspective, standing with a gigantic object resembling a cornucopia74 raised to his lips.
“You like it vare you are?” quoth the uncanny voice, not loud, but startlingly near.
And Blythe nodded her head and waved her hat in vigorous assent75.
The great ship stretched long and narrow astern, the main deck shut in with 17 awnings76 through which the huge smokestacks rose, and the wide-mouthed ventilators crooked77 their necks. Along either outer edge of the awnings a line of lifeboats showed, tied fast in their high-springing davits, while from the mouth of the yellow ship’s-funnels black masses of smoke floated slowly and heavily astern. The Lorelei swam the water like a wonderful white aquatic78 bird, leaving upon the quiet sea a long snowy track of foam79.
On a line with their lofty perch80 a sailor swung spider-like among the network of sheets and halyards that clung about the mainmast, its meshes81 clearly defined against the pure blue of the sky, while below there, on the bridge, the big brass82 nautical83 instruments gleamed, and the caps of the Captain and his lieutenants84 showed white in the sun. As Blythe glanced down and away from this stirring outlook, she could just distinguish among the dark figures of the steerage the small white face of the child upturned toward the sky; and again a sharp pang took her, a feeling that the little creature did not 18 belong among those rough men and women. No wonder that the beautiful Italian eyes always sought the sky; it was their only refuge from sordid85 sights.
“I suppose the woman meant that the child was her little mistress; did she not?” Blythe asked abruptly86.
“That was what I understood.”
“It’s probably a romance; don’t you think so?” and Blythe felt that she was applying to a high authority for information on such a head.
“Looks like it,” the great authority opined. “I think we shall have to investigate the case.”
“Oh, will you? And you speak Italian so beautifully!”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it! It sounds so exactly like the hand-organ men!”
“Look here, Miss Blythe,” the poet protested, “you must not flatter a modest man like that. My daughter would say you were turning my head.”
“Oh, I rather think your daughter knows that it’s not the kind of head to 19 be turned,” Blythe answered easily. She was beginning to feel as if she had known this famous personage all her life.
“I shall tell her that,” said he.
Presently one-bell sounded a faint tinkle87 far below, and the big megaphone inquired whether they wanted to come down, and was assured that they did not. And all the while during their voyage through the air, which was prolonged for another half-hour, the two good comrades were weaving romances about the little girl; and with a curious confidence, as if, forsooth, they could conjure88 up what fortunes they would out of that vast horizon toward which the good ship was bearing them on.
At last the time came for them to go below, and they reluctantly signalled to the sailors, grouped about the deck in patient expectation. Upon which the windlass was set going, and slowly and creakingly the “crow’s nest” was lowered from its airy height.
The two a?ronauts found the steerage still populous90 with queer figures, and the 20 atmosphere seemed more unsavoury than ever after their sojourn91 among the upper airs. To their disappointment, however, the woman and her Signorina were nowhere to be seen. Blythe and Mr. Grey looked for them in every corner of the deck, but no trace of them was to be found, and Blythe mounted the gangway to their own deck with much of the reluctance92 which she often felt in submitting to an interruption in a serial93 story.
They found Mrs. Halliday amusing herself with a glass of cracked ice, giving casual attention the while to a very long story told by a garrulous94 fellow-passenger in a wadded hood95.
“Oh, Mamma,” Blythe cried, perching upon the extension foot of her mother’s chair, “why didn’t you and Mr. DeWitt stay longer? And how did it happen that nobody else got wind of it? I don’t believe a single person knows what we’ve been about! And oh! we have had such a glorious time! It was like being a bird! Only that little girl in the steerage oughtn’t to be there, and Mr. Grey and I are 21 going to see what can be done about it, and––”
The wadded hood had fallen silent, and now its wearer rose, with an air of resignation, and carried her tale to another listener, while Mr. Grey also moved away, leaving Blythe to tell her own story.
They were great friends, Mrs. Halliday and this only child of hers, and well they might be; for, as Blythe had informed Mr. Grey early in their acquaintance; “Mamma and I are all there are of us.”
As she sat beside this best of friends,—having dropped into the chair left vacant by the wadded hood,—Blythe lived over again every experience and sensation of that eventful afternoon, and with the delightful sense of sharing it with somebody who understood. And, since the most abiding96 impression of all had been her solicitude97 for the little steerage passenger, she found no difficulty in arousing her mother to an almost equal interest in the child’s fate.
And presently, when the cornet player passed them, with the air of short-lived 22 importance which comes to a ship’s cornet three times a day, and, stationing himself well aft, played the cheerful little tune89 which heralds98 the approaching dinner-hour, Blythe slipped her hand into her mother’s and said:
“We’ll do something about that little girl; won’t us, Mumsey?”
Upon which Mrs. Halliday, rising, and patting the rosy99 cheek which she used to call the “apple of her eye,” said:
“I shouldn’t wonder if us did, Blythe.”
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收听单词发音
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1
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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3
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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definitively
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| adv.决定性地，最后地 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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8
deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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narratives
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| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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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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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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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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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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43
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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44
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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45
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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46
lookouts
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| n.寻找（ 某人/某物）( lookout的名词复数 )；是某人（自己）的问题；警戒；瞭望台 | |
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47
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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48
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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49
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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50
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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51
disporting
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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52
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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53
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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55
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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56
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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57
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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cornucopia
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| n.象征丰收的羊角 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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aquatic
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| adj.水生的，水栖的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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98
heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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