I will now leave my next three months of bush life unrecorded, as it would be very much the same as I have already written about. William and I got South Sea Island mad. It was my fault. I used to tell him about my experiences and as I told him of Papoo and various other Samoan and Fijian beauties, his eyes would gleam as he listened, until at last his sole ambition in life was to go to the South Seas. Indeed I got a bit of the fever on me to go out there again, and when we at length arrived in Sydney I tried to get away with him, but as luck would have it he managed to secure a billet on the German boat as messroom steward1. I was very sorry indeed to see him go, and he too when I said good-bye to him. We had been happy and seen a lot together in our twelve months’ friendship. I stood on the wharf2 and waved good-bye to him. Dear old William, I often wonder what became of him; I never saw him again.
A week after he left me I shipped before the mast on the Cairnbulg, a large sailing ship bound for ’Frisco and then round the Horn home. We had a terrible spell of bad weather. About two weeks 289after leaving Sydney, one evening just as sunset faded a typhoon began to blow. We were all sent aloft to take in sail; but it was too late, the mainmast split and went overboard, taking and throwing one of the crew into the raging sea. He still clung on to the tackle of the broken mast as it floated overside, and then a big sea came down and he was washed off. We hove her to and lowered the lifeboat; over came the seas like huge icebergs3, crashing to the decks as she shivered and groaned4 and pitched with her broken masts and torn sails, swaying and screaming beneath the storm-swept sky. There was no slackness of volunteers to man the lifeboat as those white-faced sailors with the soul of pluck in their eyes stood by and the chief mate took the helm. They lowered away; three times they were nearly upset and thrown into the sea as the ship lay right over and the big iron side seemed to lay under the lifeboat’s keel. At last they got her safely on the water; the skipper stood on the poop, the hurricane whipping his shouted orders away like pistol shots as a sea came over and washed three of us along the deck. We all came crash against the bulwark5 side, scrambled6 to our feet and rushed back again to see if we could catch sight of the lifeboat that was out on the pitch-black waters. How she lived in that sea was a marvel7. They came back, but without our comrade: he had gone for ever, and that night we sat in the fo’c’sle on our sea-chests puffing8 our pipes deep in thought, feeling very sad and wretched, and I heard the drowned sailor’s 290special chum crying in his bunk9 opposite me for a long time as overhead the look-out tramped to and fro and the fixed10-up wind-jammer once more tore along on her voyage. The empty bunk of the lost sailor which was just below mine got on my nerves, and often when I was tired out and turned in I lay sleeplessly11 thinking of the poor fellow away in his ocean grave behind us, and would get up and go on deck and finish by sleeping on the forepeak hatchway.
When we arrived in San Francisco our ship had to go into dry dock to have a new mast fixed in and I got in with some American fellows ashore12, and what with the beautiful climate and congenial society and being sick of living on “hard tack,” “soup and bully” and salt junk, I resolved to leave the ship and stay behind. One of those shore friends of mine was the manager of a dancing saloon in the north of the city, and he told me that if I could play dance music on the violin he could offer me a good salary. I got hold of a good book of dance music and, taking a small room near Kearney Street, I practised the whole day long for nearly a week, and soon got my hand in and eventually became a crack hand at the job. The orchestra for that dancing establishment consisted of two violins, a banjo and a harpist. The ladies who visited that secluded14 hall were painted up to the eyes, some of them were pretty old stagers painted and dressed up; whirling round the ballroom15 they passed off as girls in their teens.
I had a good opportunity of observing the visitors 291of that ’Frisco “high-class dancing saloon.” I found out after a little while that it was used for various different crimes, and one night just as we had finished the overture17 and the old Californian roués were taking their partners, a fashionably dressed lady burst into the room and shot her husband in the neck. I heard one of the bullets from her revolver whiz by my head. The painted lady who had been hanging on the wounded man’s arm fainted away and there was a terrible scene altogether, but the whole matter never reached the public, it was all hushed up as the victim was a gentleman who held a high position on the Bench. I think he was a judge. I did not even care to play the fiddle18 to that crowd, but I persevered19 and sawed away night after night. I received exceedingly good money for the job and had no need to mix with the crew that danced to the strains of music, as those wicked-looking members of the Californian “elite” revelled20 in the atmosphere of freedom and all the dubious21 games that caused the downfall of their old ancestors Adam and Eve.
I was then living in apartments in F—— Street; it was not a very fashionable residence, but my comrade, whose name was “Crane,” lived there, and persuaded me to live near him. He told me that he was an Englishman and talked a good deal about dear old London, thinking that it pleased me. There also lived a man in the same building who I was told was the captain of a large sailing vessel22. He was a suave-speaking man, and spoke23 with a strong 292Yankee twang, wore side-whiskers, and every time I chanced to meet him on the stairway, he was most genial13 in his remarks and would praise my violin-playing, for I would play a good deal during the daytime, not having much else to do. One morning my friend Crane opened my room door and, coming in with a long face, sat opposite me and said, “I say, Middleton, the Captain’s in great sorrow, his wife’s dead, and if he can’t raise fifty dollars she will have to be buried in a pauper’s grave.” I was very much touched as he continued the tale, and told me several distressing24 details of the affection between that captain and the poor wife, and when at last he described the death scene the tears came into my eyes, and I at once volunteered to advance the necessary cash, so as to give the poor fellow’s wife a decent funeral.
Crane knew that I had nearly eighty dollars in the bank, and when I stood up and said I would go and get the money forthwith, he wiped his own eyes, so touched was he by my impulsive25 kindness. I went off and got the money, and coming back I said to Crane, “Where is he? Is he in his room?”
“Yes,” Crane answered, “but he’s so broken up, and moreover he’s so sensitive about borrowing money from anyone, that you had better leave it on the toilet in his room, when he goes out, and I will explain all to him.” I at once accepted his idea and understood, as I too would have been sensitive in those days at borrowing fifty dollars.
That same night as I walked down the street on 293the way to the dancing saloon, I met Crane and the bereaved26 Captain. I felt a bit uncomfortable at first, and so did the Captain as he turned his face sideways, pulled his whiskers and exchanged a quick glance with Crane and then nearly tumbled over. I saw that he was “half seas over,” but I forgave him; I knew that sorrow had driven better men than the Captain to take an extra glass. Well, to cut a sad story short, I went over to the Captain’s house next day to attend the funeral. I had not been invited, but I wanted to do the thing properly. I had got the address out of Crane, and the time, and about ten minutes before the procession was to start for the cemetery27 I respectfully touched the knocker with a mournful tap, tap. I shall never forget the face of the awful virago28 who opened the door, and as soon as I mentioned the Captain’s name and told her the purpose of my visit she glared at me and then roared with laughter. I lost my temper at last and said, “I’ve paid fifty dollars for the funeral.” That finished it, and then I heard the truth. The Captain was a card-sharper and I had been done! Even the little ’Frisco kid of about ten years of age looked up into my face with a partly sorrowful and partly contemptuous expression that I was such an ass16. I never knew which one really had my fifty dollars, Crane or the Captain. I suppose they shared it. I never saw the Captain again, but one night as I was going to leave my room to go off to work I saw Crane dodge29 on the staircase of the next floor. He had called to see if there were any letters 294for him. I said, “Hi, Crane, I want to speak to you.” He came into the room smiling. He had a white-livered face. “Where is my fifty dollars?” I said. And then I had my first and last fight. The look in his eyes broke the last thread of control in my temper, and I let out and gave him a terrible smash in the jaw30. He hardly defended himself; he was such a coward, and so ended my friendship with Mr Crane and my trust in “confidence men.” I have met many well-dressed men since that time who agreed profoundly with all my ideas, and ended by telling me of their rich old uncle who was waiting round the corner for ten dollars to get back to his exchequer31, but I’ve had my lesson, and if I met another man who wanted money to bury his wife I would not advance it till I saw the coffin32, and even then I should respectfully lift the lid before I left the room.
I never saw such a wild place as ’Frisco was in those days. Seafaring men from all parts of the world congregated33 there much the same as in the Australian sea-board cities. I know not if they were trade union men, but they all looked very independent, chewed and spat34 much the same as the sailors of my previous experience, excepting they were virtuosos35 in the art and could send a stream of tobacco juice over their left shoulder without moving the face from its frontward stare. Most of them had billygoat whiskers, and cadaverous faces whereon was written “recklessness”; they mostly lived on beer which was handed to them in vast 295glasses which they called “deep seas,” “schooners” and “shea-oak.” Those who are on the rocks never bother about food, but live on free luncheons36 which you can help yourself to if you buy a drink; the food is sometimes “hot sausages, roast beef, cheese and biscuits.”
I found the ’Frisco restaurants Oriental palaces compared with the Australian dining-rooms. The Chinese were there by thousands, smoking their opium37 and sleeping in awful hovels, such as damp underground cellars, like rats in a hole, and often as you walked by Jackson Street you knew they were under the pavement because the hot, fevered stench came up through the paving stone cracks that let in air to their subterranean38 dens39. As in Sydney they live by gambling40 and pray for luck in their “Joss-houses,” and you would always know that the “Fan-tan” was on by the yellow nose and alert small eyes of the old spy peeping at the door, keeping “tiggy” in case of a police raid.
At this time I got in with an elderly fellow named Guest. He was a real “knock-out” for yarning41 and told me many thrilling tales of adventure as we sat or walked out together. He had lived a good deal in Australia. He and I went out through the Golden Gate together, and visited Farallon Islands. He was hard up and I paid the expenses; he was a good chap and thankful too, and would have done the same for me I knew if I had run short. He seemed to know a lot about Australian gaol42 life and I think he had lodged43 in one of them against his 296wish, and so I have not told you his right name. He would tell me many of his experiences and I think that he had escaped from penal44 servitude at one time or other, for he always, when dwelling45 on his bush life, let out in some way or other that he nearly stumbled across a township during his wanderings, which was strange considering he should, from my own experience, have been very pleased to do so.
One night we sat together in my little room in Kearney Street. I was strumming on the fiddle and he sat by the window smoking and started one of his yarns46. He had a mysterious face, and a quiet earnest voice, and whenever he was serious I would listen carefully to him, and that night he seemed more serious than usual.
“Put your fiddle down, Middleton,” he said, “and I’ll tell you about my hut experience.”
I was so impressed by that tale of his that I think I will tell it you here, as nearly as possible the way he told it to me, as I sat there by the window. Slowly he began: “I was fairly bushed47 once in North Queensland; it was the time of the great drought. I hadn’t even a swag and it was that sweltering hot that I lay stark48 naked in a swamp by a gully for half the day. I felt pretty sick too, for I had drunk nearly a quart of the frog-spawned water which was nearly black with ooze49 and dead reptiles50, and I got the fever in my blood that bad that I kept seeing faces swim over me in the steam that rose from the two-inch-deep scum as I lay flat on my back. Phew! it makes me sweat now as I think of it.
297“Well, that night as soon as the sun sank like a clot51 of blood below the skyline, I rose up, full of aches and pains and nearly dead, wiped myself down, put on my pants and shirt, which I had used for a towel, and started staggering off determined52 to make a last attempt to get to some township or shanty53. I think I must have lost my head a bit then, for I got shouting and tearing at my throat as I stumbled along. The moon was up, and for miles over the flat country I could see the gum clumps54 standing55 perfectly56 still, for there was not a breath of wind. Presently I heard a dingo wailing57 and then silence again as a wind sprang up and over my head the gums’ leaves stirred a bit and the cool air washed my parched58 body over as though dead fingers were caressing59 me. Then I could hardly believe my eyes, for across the grey slopes far away I saw a small light. By God, didn’t that light buck60 me up as I scrambled along and crawling up a small slope on all-fours, for I was then too weak to walk up anything, I found myself standing before a small hut. Outside was a large rain-water tub. I gave the hut door a crash with my foot and then head first went for that tub. ‘Who’s there?’ someone said as I heard the bolt drawn61. It was a woman’s voice. ‘It’s only me,’ I answered as she stood at the door gazing astonished as I wiped my mouth. I looked a terrible guy standing there bare-headed and steaming, for I had ducked my head in that water butt62; my boots were open at the ends like an alligator’s jaws63 and I only had my pants on, so you can imagine I did not 298look the kind of visitor that a woman longed to see at a lonely bush hut at midnight. Anyway she soon saw that I was genuine enough, and in no time I was sitting inside feeling wonderfully refreshed as I drank a large pannikin of hot tea and washed down some food. She was a wistful-looking wench, and I wondered a bit where the boss was, as she sat there white-faced and the open door let the midnight wind in and the moonbeams and shadowed leaves crept over the walls and on to her face and knees from the trees outside. I told her my tale, and then she told hers. Her husband lay in the next room dead, and the young fellow who worked for him had gone off nearly fifty miles to get a coffin for the body. I felt that I was dreaming as I sat there and the night wind blew at intervals64 and sighed across the forest gums.
“‘When will he be back?’ I asked her.
“‘Not till to-morrow,’ she said, and as the hour was getting late and I started to yawn and nearly fell asleep as I sat on the wooden bench, she asked me if I would mind sleeping in the next room where that thing was! At first I hesitated a bit, but not liking65 to look a coward I pulled myself together and said, ‘Well, I don’t mind,’ for I saw that I should have to sleep outside if I didn’t, as there was only one room besides the small kitchen where we were, and just by where she sat twitching66 her fingers on her knees was her own bed made up. She gave me a small bit of candle and pointed67 to the long couch as I entered that hushed room and quietly closed the 299door behind me. It was a large room and as I looked around I caught sight of a long trestle up against the farther wall right opposite the small window across which hung wild vines. I began to feel pretty bad; my past experience had a bit unnerved me. Placing the candle on a little stool beside me, I settled myself on the couch, inwardly cursing my luck at being given only one inch of tallow candle. By faith, I could not keep my eyes off that thing. I heard my own breath as I lay there all of a sweat, and then the candle spluttered and went out, and as the wind blew outside, and the shadow of the boughs68 through the window moved to and fro on the walls just above the shrouded70 six-foot figure, my eyes stared and stared and it seemed as though the protruding71 feet moved as the moonlight crept in patches over the trestle. And then a terrible thing happened.
“I swear by all that’s holy I tell the truth—the top of the white shroud69 moved back and revealed a long grey-bearded face! My feet also slowly moved off that couch to make a bolt from the room, and likewise those dead feet moved slowly towards the floor to stay my flight! I was paralysed with terror. I tried to shout, but something gripped my throat. Up rose that dead man’s finger as with bright eyes gleaming he said, ‘Hush, I’m not dead!’ Outside, as he said that, I heard a whisper and the crackling of twigs72 and a shadow whipped across the wall as someone passed by the window. In a moment I recovered. ‘Not dead?’ thought I. 300‘I’ll show you to play this trick on me,’ and I leapt to my feet, but the old bounder was too quick for me. Crash over my head went something, and before I could get out of the door he had vanished, shutting it with a bang behind him. I heard a scream. Taking a woodman’s axe73 from the wall I crashed away at that door to get to the woman who had befriended me. Down it came as I smashed away.
“Rushing into the room I looked round. I was too late. I stumbled over something huddled74 on the floor, and saw that the worst had happened. I turned round and looked through the hut door over the moonlit slopes; with the jaw-rag flapping behind him ran that monstrous75 man who had feigned76 death; in front flew a little man. I heard a scream as he uplifted his gun and shot him and then turning it on himself blew the top of his own head off. It all seemed to happen in an instant, and there was I left alone by that hut. By the door stood a coffin and that told me that the second victim was the man who had gone off to do the undertaking77 job. I at once started off from that cursed place, for I knew that were I found there the whole tragedy would be fastened on to me,” and saying this he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and wished me good-night and went off.”
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1
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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icebergs
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| n.冰山，流冰( iceberg的名词复数 ) | |
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4
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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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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6
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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7
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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8
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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11
sleeplessly
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| adv.失眠地 | |
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12
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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13
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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14
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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15
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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16
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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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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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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26
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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28
virago
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| n.悍妇 | |
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29
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate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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virtuosos
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| n.艺术大师( virtuoso的名词复数 )；名家；艺术爱好者；古董收藏家 | |
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luncheons
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| n.午餐，午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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yarning
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的现在分词形式） | |
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42
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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43
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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44
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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45
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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46
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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47
bushed
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| adj.疲倦的 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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49
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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50
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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51
clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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52
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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53
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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54
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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55
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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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57
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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58
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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59
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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60
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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61
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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62
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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63
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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64
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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65
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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66
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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67
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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68
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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69
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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70
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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71
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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72
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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73
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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74
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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75
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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76
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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