I can easily recall the little room in which I sat, poring over my next day’s lessons. It was in one end of the attic2 of our modest cottage, and the only room “done off” upstairs. The sloping side walls, that followed the lines of the roof, were bare except for the numerous pictures of yachts and other sailing craft with which I had plastered them from time to time. There was a bed at one side and a small deal table at the other, and over the little window was a shelf whereon I kept my meager3 collection of books.
“Sam! Are you coming, or not?”
With a sigh I laid down my book, opened the door, and descended4 the steep uncarpeted stairs to the lower room. This was Mrs. Ranck’s living-room, where she cooked our meals, laid the table, and sat in her high-backed wooden rocker to darn and mend. It was a big, square room, which took up most of the space in the lower part of the house, leaving only a place for a small store-room at one end and the Captain’s room at the other. At one side was the low, broad porch, with a door and two windows opening onto it, and at the other side, which was properly the back of the cottage, a small wing had been built which was occupied by the housekeeper5 as her sleeping chamber6.
As I entered the living-room in response to Mrs. Ranck’s summons I was surprised to find a stranger there, seated stiffly upon the edge of one of the straight chairs and holding his hat in his lap, where he grasped it tightly with two big, red fists, as if afraid that it would get away. He wore an old flannel7 shirt, open at the neck, and a weather-beaten pea-jacket, and aside from these trade-marks of his profession it was easy enough to determine from his air and manner that he was a sea-faring man.
There was nothing remarkable8 about that, for every one in our little sea-coast village of Batteraft got a living from old ocean, in one way or another; but what startled me was to find Mrs. Ranck confronting the sailor with a white face and a look of mingled9 terror and anxiety in her small gray eyes.
“What is it, Aunt?” I asked, a sudden fear striking to my heart as I looked from one to the other in my perplexity.
The woman did not reply, at first, but continued to stare wildly at the bowed head of the sailor—bowed because he was embarrassed and ill at ease. But when he chanced to raise a rather appealing pair of eyes to her face she nodded, and said briefly10:
“Tell him.”
“Yes, marm,” answered the man; but he shifted uneasily in his seat, and seemed disinclined to proceed further.
All this began to make me very nervous. Perhaps the man was a messenger—a bearer of news. And if so his tale must have an evil complexion11, to judge by his manner and Mrs. Ranck’s stern face. I felt like shrinking back, like running away from some calamity12 that was about to overtake me. But I did not run. Boy though I was, and very inexperienced in the ways of life, with its troubles and tribulations13, I knew that I must stay and hear all; and I braced14 myself for the ordeal15.
“Tell me, please,” I said, and my voice was so husky and low that I could scarce hear it myself. “Tell me; is—is it about—my father?”
The man nodded.
“It’s about the Cap’n,” he said, looking stolidly16 into Mrs. Ranck’s cold features, as if striving to find in them some assistance. “I was one as sailed with him las’ May aboard the ‘Saracen.’”
“Then why are you here?” I cried, desperately17, although even as I spoke18 there flashed across my mind a first realization19 of the horror the answer was bound to convey.
“’Cause the ‘Saracen’ foundered20 off Lucayas,” said the sailor, with blunt deliberation, “an’ went to the bottom, ’th all hands—all but me, that is. I caught a spar an’ floated three days an’ four nights, makin’ at last Andros Isle21, where a fisherman pulled me ashore22 more dead ’n alive. That’s nigh three months agone, sir. I’ve had fever sence—brain fever, they called it—so I couldn’t bring the news afore.”
I felt my body swaying slightly, and wondered if it would fall. Then I caught at a ray of hope.
The sailor shook his head, regretfully.
“None but me was saved alive, sir,” he answered, in a solemn voice. “The tide cast up a many o’ the ‘Saracen’ corpses24, while I lay in the fever; an’ the fisher folks give ’em a decent burial. But they saved the trinkets as was found on the dead men, an’ among ’em was Cap’n Steele’s watch an’ ring. I kep’ ’em to bring to you. Here they be,” he continued, simply, as he rose from his chair to place a small chamois bag reverently25 upon the table.
Mrs. Ranck pounced26 upon it and with trembling fingers untied27 the string. Then she drew forth28 my father’s well-known round silver watch and the carbuncle ring he had worn upon his little finger ever since I could remember.
For a time no one spoke. I stared stupidly at the sailor, noticing that the buttons on his pea-jacket did not match and wondering if he always sewed them on himself. Mrs. Ranck had fallen back into her tall rocking-chair, where she gyrated nervously29 back and forth, the left rocker creaking as if it needed greasing. Why was it that I could not burst into a flood of tears, or wail30, or shriek31, or do anything to prove that I realized myself suddenly bereft32 of the only friend I had in all the world? There was an iron band around my forehead, and another around my chest. My brain was throbbing33 under one, and my heart trying desperately to beat under the other. Yet outwardly I must have appeared calm enough, and the fact filled me with shame and disgust.
An orphan34, now, and alone in the world. This father whom the angry seas had engulfed35 was the only relative I had known since my sweet little mother wearied of the world and sought refuge in Heaven, years and years ago. And while father sailed away on his stout36 ship the “Saracen” I was left to the care of the hard working but crabbed37 and cross old woman whom I had come to call, through courtesy and convenience, “Aunt,” although she was no relation whatever to me. Now I was alone in the world. Father, bluff38 and rugged39, so strong and resourceful that I had seldom entertained a fear for his safety, was lying dead in the far away island of Andros, and his boy must hereafter learn to live without him.
The sailor, obviously uneasy at the effect of his ill tidings, now rose to go; but at his motion Mrs. Ranck seemed suddenly to recover the use of her tongue, and sternly bade him resume his seat. Then she plied40 him with questions concerning the storm and the catastrophe41 that followed it, and the man answered to the best of his ability.
Captain Steele was universally acknowledged one of the best and most successful seamen42 Batteraft had ever known. Through many years of trading in foreign parts he had not only become sole owner of the “Saracen,” but had amassed43 a fortune which, it was freely stated in the town, was enough to satisfy the desires of any man. But this was merely guess-work on the part of his neighbors, for when ashore the old sailor confided44 his affairs to no one, unless it might have been to Mrs. Ranck. For the housekeeper was a different person when the Captain was ashore, recounting her own virtues45 so persistently46, and seeming so solicitous47 for my comfort, that poor father stood somewhat in awe48 of her exceptional nobility of character. As soon as he had sailed she dropped the mask, and was often unkind; but I never minded this enough to worry him with complaints, so he was unconscious of her true nature.
Indeed, my dear father had been so seldom at home that I dreaded49 to cause him one moment’s uneasiness. He was a reserved man, too, as is the case with so many sailors, and since the death of his dearly loved wife had passed but little of his time ashore. I am sure he loved me, for he always treated me with a rare tenderness; but he never would listen to my entreaties50 to sail with him.
“The sea’s no place for a lad that has a comfortable home,” he used to reply, in his slow, thoughtful way. “Keep to your studies, Sam, my boy, and you’ll be a bigger man some day than any seaman51 of us all.”
The Captain’s brief visits home were the only bright spots in my existence, and because I had no one else to love I lavished52 upon my one parent all the affection of which I was capable. Therefore my present sudden bereavement53 was so colossal54 and far reaching in its effects upon my young life that it is no wonder the news staggered me and curiously55 dulled my senses.
Almost as if in a dream I heard Mrs. Ranck’s fierce questions and the sailor’s reluctant answers. And when he had told everything that he knew about the matter he got upon his feet and took my hands gently in both his big, calloused56 ones.
“I’m right sorry, lad, as ye’ve had this blow,” he muttered, feelingly. “The Cap’n were a good man an’ a kind master, an’ many’s a time I’ve heard him tell of his boy Sam. I s’pose he’s left ye provided with plenty o’ this world’s goods, for he were a thrifty57 man and mostly in luck. But if ye ever run aground, lad, or find ye need a friend to cast a bowline, don’t ye forget that Ned Britton’ll stand by ye through thick an’ thin!”
With this he wrung58 my hands until I winced59 under the pressure, and then he nodded briefly to Mrs. Ranck and hurried from the room.
The twilight60 had faded during the interview, and the housekeeper had lit a tallow candle. As Ned Britton’s footsteps died away the woman bent61 forward to snuff the wick, and I noted62 a grim and determined63 look upon her features that was new to them. But her hands trembled somewhat, in spite of her assumed calmness, and the fact gave me a certain satisfaction. Her loss could not be compared with mine, but the Captain’s death was sure to bring about a change in her fortunes, as well as my own.
She resumed her regular rocking back and forth, riveting64 her eyes the while upon my face. I did not sit, but leaned against the table, trying hard to think. And thus for a long time we regarded each other in silence.
Finally she cried out, sharply:
“Well, what are you a-goin’ to do now?”
“In every way. How are you goin’ to live, fer one thing?”
“Why, much the same as I am doing now, I suppose,” said I, trying to rouse myself to attend to what she was saying. “Father owned this house, which is now mine; and I’m sure there is considerable property besides, although the ship is lost.”
“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Mrs. Ranck, scornfully.
I wondered what she meant by that, and looked my question.
“Your father didn’t own a stick o’ this house,” she cried, in a tone that was almost a scream. “It’s mine, an’ the deed’s in my own name!”
“I know,” I replied, “but father has often explained that you merely held the deed in trust for me, until I became of age. He turned it over to you as a protection to me in case some accident should happen to him. Many times he has told me that this plan insured my having a home, no matter what happened.”
“I guess you didn’t understand him,” she answered, an evil flash in her eye. “The facts is, this house were put into my name because the Cap’n owed me money.”
“What for?” I asked.
“I’ve kep’ ye in food an’ clothes ever sence ye was a baby. Do ye s’pose that don’t cost money?”
I stared at her bewildered.
“Didn’t father furnish the money?”
“Not a cent. He jest let it run on, as he did my wages. An’ it counts up big, that a-way.”
“Then the house isn’t mine, after all?”
“Not an inch of it. Not a stick ner a stone.”
I tried to think what this would mean to me, and what reason the woman could have for claiming a right to my inheritance.
“Once,” said I, musingly66, “father told me how he had brought you here to save you from the poor-house, or starvation. He was sorry for you, and gave you a home. That was while mother was living. Afterwards, he said, he trusted to your gratitude67 to take good care of me, and to stand my friend in place of my dead mother.”
“Fiddlesticks!” she snapped, again. It was the word she usually used to express contempt, and it sounded very disagreeable coming from her lips.
“The Cap’n must ’a’ been a-dreamin’ when he told you that stuff an’ nonsense,” she went on. “I’ve treated ye like my own son; there’s no mistake about that. But I did it for wages, accordin’ to agreement atween me an’ the Cap’n. An’ the wages wasn’t never paid. When they got to be a big lump, he put the house in my name, to secure me. An’ it’s mine—ev’ry stick of it!”
My head was aching, and I had to press my hand to it to ease the pain. In the light of the one flickering68 candle Mrs. Ranck’s hard face assumed the expression of a triumphant69 demon70, and I drew back from it, shocked and repelled71.
“If what you say is true,” I said, listlessly, “I would rather you take the old home to wipe out the debt. Yet father surely told me it was mine, and it isn’t like him to deceive me, or to owe any one money. However, take it, Aunt, if you like.”
“I’ve got it,” she answered; “an’ I mean to keep it.”
“I shall get along very well,” said I, thinking, indeed, that nothing mattered much, now father was gone.
“Why, there’s plenty besides the house,” I replied. “In father’s room,” and I nodded my head toward the door that was always kept locked in the Captain’s absence, “there must be a great many valuable things stored. The very last time he was home he said that in case anything ever happened to him I would find a little fortune in his old sea-chest, alone.”
“May be,” rejoined the old woman, uneasily. “I hope that story o’ his’n, at least, is true, for your sake, Sam. I hain’t anything agin you; but right is right. An’ the house don’t cover all that’s comin’ to me, either. The Cap’n owed me four hundred dollars, besides the house, for your keep durin’ all these years; an’ that’ll have to be paid afore you can honestly lay claim to a cent o’ his property.”
“Of course,” I agreed, meekly73 enough, for all this talk of money wearied me. “But there should be much more than that in the chest, alone, according to what father said.”
“Let’s hope there is,” said she. “You go to bed, now, for you’re clean done up, an’ no wonder. In the mornin’ we’ll both look into the Cap’n’s room, an’ see what’s there. I ain’t a-goin’ to take no mean advantage o’ you, Sam, you can depend on’t. So go to bed. Sleep’s the best cure-all fer troubles like yours.”
This last was said in a more kindly74 tone, and I was glad to take her at her word and creep away to my little room in the attic.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
stringent
|
|
| adj.严厉的；令人信服的；银根紧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
meager
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
flannel
|
|
| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tribulations
|
|
| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
braced
|
|
| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ordeal
|
|
| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
stolidly
|
|
| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
foundered
|
|
| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
corpses
|
|
| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
reverently
|
|
| adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
pounced
|
|
| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
wail
|
|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
bereft
|
|
| adj.被剥夺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
engulfed
|
|
| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
crabbed
|
|
| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bluff
|
|
| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
seamen
|
|
| n.海员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
amassed
|
|
| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
confided
|
|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
persistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
solicitous
|
|
| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
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： |
|
|
|
|
50
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
seaman
|
|
| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
lavished
|
|
| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
bereavement
|
|
| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
colossal
|
|
| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
calloused
|
|
| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
thrifty
|
|
| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
riveting
|
|
| adj.动听的，令人着迷的，完全吸引某人注意力的；n.铆接（法） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
drearily
|
|
| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
musingly
|
|
| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
67
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
repelled
|
|
| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |