Next day I went down to Fresh Wharf4 and found the Thrush, with cranes creaking over her, looking more grimy and forbidding than ever. As I went on board the men one and all saluted5 me, and when I knocked at the door of the captain’s cabin there came a low gruff growl6?—
“Well, what is it now?”
I announced who I was, and was of course at once admitted. Job Seal, in shirt and trousers, had been lying in his bunk7 smoking, taking his ease after a full night ashore8 in company with his “chief.” He had been reading the paper, and a big glass of brandy and soda9 at his elbow told its own tale.
“Come in, come in, doctor,” he cried cheerily, holding out his enormous hand; “I intended to come over and see you to-night. Well, what’s the latest news of Old Mystery?”
“As I told you, he’s in the hands of the first specialist in lunacy in London, and under treatment at a private asylum10.”
“Will he get better?”
“Nobody can tell that. The doctor, however, anticipates that he will.”
“Well, I hope by the time I get back from this next trip he’ll have told you his story. We sail to-morrow on our usual round—Cardiff, Leghorn, Naples, Valencia, and home. But I don’t suppose we’ll be picking up any Noah’s Arks this trip—eh?”
“No,” I laughed. “I see that a paragraph has crept into the papers about our discovery, and it is discredited11. One paper heads it ‘A Seaman’s Yarn12.’ I suppose some of the men have been talking about it on shore.”
“Suppose so. One o’ them chaps from the newspapers came aboard yesterday and began asking all about it, but I blessed him for his inquisitiveness13, and sent him about his business. What the dickens has it to do with him?”
“Quite right,” I said approvingly. “We ought to keep our knowledge to ourselves. People can believe or disbelieve, just as they like. If, however, they saw those bags of gold at the bank, I fancy it would convince them.”
“Or if they saw Old Mister Mystery with his red velvet14 jacket and sword,” he laughed. “Lor’, doctor, I’ll never forget the funny figure that chap cut when we hauled him out. He was real scared at first, wasn’t he?”
His words brought back to my memory that never-to-be-forgotten evening of our discovery. The mystery of how the cumbersome15 old vessel16 had got afloat again was not one of the least connected with it.
The reason of my visit was to tell him the result of my inquiries17 and the neat manner in which we had been foiled. Therefore, after some preliminaries, I explained to him all that I have set down in the previous chapter. He heard me through, blowing vigorously at his pipe and grunting18, as was his habit. The amount of smoke his pipe emitted was an index to his thoughts. If pleased, his pipe burned slowly, the smoke rising in a tiny thin column; but if the contrary, the smoke came forth19 from pipe and mouth in clouds. The cabin was now so full that I could scarcely see across it, and when I arrived at the critical point and told him how I had been forestalled20, he jumped up, exclaiming?—
“The son of a gun! He actually sold it for ’arf a quid!”
“He has,” I answered sadly. “If we could only get it back it might be the means of bringing wealth to all of us.”
“Then you really believe in all this yarn what’s written in the parchments, doctor?” he asked.
“How can I do otherwise?” I said. “There are signatures and seals. Besides, I have, I think, sufficiently21 proved that Bartholomew da Schorno, whoever he was, lived once at Caldecott Manor22, and further, that the Knuttons were owners of the Manor Farm. You must remember, too, that Mr. Staffurth is an expert, and not likely to mislead us.”
“Well, doctor,” he said, “the whole thing makes a queer yarn, an’ that’s a fact. Sometimes I almost feel as though the overhauling23 of Noah’s Ark was a dream, only you see we’ve already got about a thousand quid to go shares in. Now, what I’ve been thinkin’, doctor, is that you’ll want a fair understandin’ if you’re goin’ to follow this thing up. I’ll be away, and shall have to leave it all in your hands. Now, I’m a plain-spoken man—that you know. For my own part, I’m content with the thousand quid we hauled aboard, and if you like to forego your claim to the half of it, I’ll forego my claim to whatever you may find ashore. Forgive me for speakin’ plain, doctor, won’t you?—for it’s no good a-beating about the bush.”
“Well,” I said, “if you are ready to accept such an agreement, I also am ready, although I think, captain, that you may be doing an injustice24 to yourself.”
But Job Seal did not see it in that light. He was a hard-headed British skipper, and regarded a safe thousand pounds better than an imaginary million. For that nobody could blame him. On the one hand I felt regret at giving up my share of the gold, but on the other it left me open to share the treasure, if found, with the unknown descendant of the Wollertons.
So we drew out together an agreement by which I relinquished25 all claim to the gold in the bank, and he, on his part, withdrew any claim upon any treasure discovered by means of the parchments found on board the Seahorse.
I could see that after I had signed the paper Job Seal was greatly relieved. He was but human, not avaricious26, he declared, but urged to the suggestion by the knowledge that he must be absent, and would be unable to assist in the search ashore.
And it so happened that for five hundred pounds I bought out my friend the skipper. Who had the best of the bargain will be seen later in this curious chapter of exciting events.
I wrote an order to the bank to deliver up the gold at Seal’s order at any time, and after a final drink shook hands and left.
“I may be over to see you before we sail, doctor,” were his parting words; “but if not, you’ll see me, all being well, back in London in about five weeks. Good-bye,” he said, heartily27 gripping my hand; “and good luck to you in your search.”
At home in Chelsea I sat calmly reflecting, smoking the while and lazily turning over the leaves of the old fifteenth-century manuscripts, the Decretales Summa, the Trithemius, and others that I had found with the documents on board the Seahorse. They were evidently Bartholomew da Schorno’s favourite reading, which showed that though he might have been a fierce sea-dog he was nevertheless a studious man, who preferred the old writers in their ancient manuscripts to the printed editions. They smelt28 musty now, but showed how well and diligently29 they had been studied. He must have been a devout30 Catholic, surely, to have studied the Decretales of the Friar Henry so assiduously. It was his property, for on the last leaf of vellum, in faded ink, was written his name: “Bartholomew da Schorno, Cavaliere di Santo Stefano, Maggio 5, 1579.”
I tried to conjure31 up what manner of man he was. Probably that giant in stature32 whose skeleton had laid heaped in the big saloon of the Seahorse. If so, he had surely been a magnificent successor to the Crusaders of olden days—a powerful friend and a formidable foe33. The latter he must certainly have been to tackle and capture one of the Spanish galleons34 sent against England. But probably no ships ever saw such fierce and sanguinary frays35 as those of the Knights36 of St. Stephen. Every man on board was a picked fighter, and against them even the dreaded37 power of the Barbary pirates was insufficient38, for the latter were gradually crushed, not, however, without enormous bloodshed on both sides.
The power of the Corsairs at one time was so great that they constantly landed at points along what is now known as the Corniche road, between the Var mouth and Genoa, and took whole villages captive, sacking and burning the houses, and laying desolate39 great tracts40 of country. Thousands of Christians42 were carried into slavery to North Africa, and a veritable reign43 of terror existed along the Mediterranean44 shore.
It took nearly a hundred years for the Knights of St. Stephen to crush the robbers, but they did so, owing to their indomitable pluck and hard and relentless45 fighting.
I recollected46 the old Elizabethan portrait of the hard-faced man that hung upon the panelled wall, but could not believe that that was a picture of old Bartholomew. No, I pictured him as a merry, round-faced, easy-going type, tall to notoriety, a giant in strength, a very demon47 in war, and a clever and ingenious administrator48 where his own personal affairs were concerned.
His independence in his quarrel with the Duke of Ferrara was shown by the manner in which he sold his estates and shook the dust of the province from his feet, and his religious fervour by the fact that although a wealthy man he braved the perils49 of the sea and of the fight to aid and release the Christian41 slaves.
I could only think of him as a grand type of the past, a dandy in dress, and even in armour50, a patrician51 in his food, and a sad dog where women were concerned. He was Italian by birth, so it was to be presumed that he loved easily, and forgot with similar facility.
But reverie would not uplift the veil of mystery that surrounded the present situation.
Now I, like you, my reader, had read all sorts of stories about hidden treasure, mostly imaginary, and all in more or less degree exciting. Treasure exists, it seems, mostly on islands the exact latitude52 and longitude53 of which is a secret, or else in caves in Guatemala or beneath the earth in Mexico—all far afield. But here I had tangible54 proof of a treasure deposited in rural England in the days of Good Queen Bess at some spot between the port of Yarmouth and the village of Caldecott. Therefore, if you had been in my place, would you not have searched for that mysterious Mr. Purvis who bought the missing document from a half-drunken labourer for half a sovereign?
I carefully reviewed the situation, and after due consideration could only hope for one thing—namely, that the purchaser of that parchment, finding it useless to him, might sell it to one or other of the London booksellers who deal in manuscripts—Quaritch, Maggs, Tregaskis, Bumpas, Dobell, and the others. The market for such things as codexes and interesting documents on vellum is limited, and in the hands of very few dealers55; therefore, I later on wrote a letter to all of them from the list given me by Mr. Staffurth, saying that, if any document answering to the description which I gave should be offered for sale, they were commissioned to purchase it at any price up to fifty pounds.
This was, I thought, a step in the right direction. Mr. Purvis, when he found that the document he had purchased was useless, would probably dispose of it at a profit, and if he did so through any of the recognized channels, it must certainly fall into my hands.
Job Seal did not call, but three days later I received a much-smeared post-card, sent from Cardiff, regretting that he had not been able to wish me good-bye as he had intended. He ended by an inquiry56 after Old Mister Mystery, and asking me to send any important news to him at the Poste Restante at Leghorn.
A fortnight went by. I went one day to Ealing to see the Mysterious Man, but he was just the same, and knew me not. The weather was still hot in London, those blazing days when the very pavements seem aglow57, but old Mr. Staffurth, whenever I called upon him, still sat in his back parlour poring over the codexes and valuable manuscripts submitted to him. Often I consulted him, but, like me, he could see no way by which we could advance farther. Things were at an absolute deadlock58.
I believe that he rather blamed me for my settlement with Seal, feeling that, after all, the continued existence of the treasure was still uncertain, for it might have been discovered and carried away years ago. Still, towards me he was always the same courteous59, low-spoken, if dry-as-dust old gentleman.
I went ever in search of the man who called himself Purvis, but although there were many persons of that name in the London Directory I was unable to discover the identical one who had tempted60 the drunken labourer with half a sovereign.
After three weeks of going hither and thither61 it became necessary to reflect upon matters more material, and, compelled to work at my profession for a living, I became locum tenens for a doctor who had a dispensary in the Walworth Road, near Camberwell Gate. Probably that part of London is well known to you, the great wide thoroughfare that is one of the main arteries62 of South London, but dull, grey, and overcrowded; a depressing place for a man who like myself had so recently come from weeks of the open sea and sunshine.
I still bore the bronze of the sun and salt upon my cheeks, according to the remarks of my friends, but although well in health and with an appetite like the proverbial horse, my mind was full of the mystery of the Seahorse and the ingenious purchase of the missing parchment.
The practice in the Walworth Road was a big and a poor one. The majority of the patients were hoarse-voiced costermongers from East Street and its purlieus, seamstresses, labourers, and factory hands. There is nothing mean in “the Road” itself, as it is called in the neighbourhood, but alas63! many of the streets that run off it towards the Old Kent Road are full of squalid poverty.
It was not my duty to be at the dispensary at night, the night calls being attended to by a medical friend of the man whose practice I was taking charge of; therefore at ten o’clock each night the boy closed the door, put out the red light, and I took the omnibus for Chelsea.
One night just as the last patient, a garrulous64 old man with gout, had taken his departure and the cheap American timepiece on the mantelshelf was chiming ten, the signal for Siddons, the boy, to turn off the gas in the red lamp, I heard voices in the shop that had been turned into a waiting-room. It was after hours, and Siddons had his orders, therefore I did not anticipate that he would disobey them. But he did, for he entered, saying:?—
“There’s a lady just come, sir. Must see you, sir—very urgent, she says.”
“Do you know her?”
“No, sir—stranger,” replied the sharp Cockney youth.
I groaned65 within myself, and announced my readiness to see her. She entered, and as she did so and our eyes met I rose to my feet, open-mouthed, utterly66 dumb.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
tantalizing
|
|
| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
repayment
|
|
| n.偿还，偿还款；报酬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bunk
|
|
| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
discredited
|
|
| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
inquisitiveness
|
|
| 好奇，求知欲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
cumbersome
|
|
| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
grunting
|
|
| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forestalled
|
|
| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
overhauling
|
|
| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
relinquished
|
|
| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
avaricious
|
|
| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
conjure
|
|
| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
stature
|
|
| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
foe
|
|
| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
galleons
|
|
| n.大型帆船( galleon的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
frays
|
|
| n.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的名词复数 )v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
knights
|
|
| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
insufficient
|
|
| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
tracts
|
|
| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
relentless
|
|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
recollected
|
|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
administrator
|
|
| n.经营管理者，行政官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
patrician
|
|
| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
latitude
|
|
| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
longitude
|
|
| n.经线，经度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
dealers
|
|
| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
aglow
|
|
| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
deadlock
|
|
| n.僵局，僵持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
arteries
|
|
| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
garrulous
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |