“Throw him in the sea, why not, now!” the trumpeter shouted to the drunken man’s weary supporters. “Begad I would do it if he put his pig’s face on e’er[142] a shoulder of me!” He was a small, emphatic14 young man: “Give him a crack now, and lay on him, or by the tears of God we’ll get no repose15 at all!”
His advice was tendered as constantly and as insistently16 as the miner’s song about his parent’s headgear, and he would encourage these incitements to vicarious violence by putting the brass trumpet to his lips and blowing some bitter and not very accurate staves. So bitter and so inaccurate17 that at length even the drunken miner paused in his song and directed the trumpeter to “shut up.” The little man sprang to his feet in fury, and approaching the other he poured a succession of trumpet calls close into his face. This threw the miner into a deep sleep, a result so unexpected that the enraged18 trumpeter slung19 his instrument under his arm and pranced20 belligerently21 upon the deck.
“Come out o’ that, ye drunken matchbox, and by the Queen of Heaven I’ll teach ye! Come now!”
The miner momentarily raised himself and recommenced his song: “’Tis the Hat that me Father wore!” At this the trumpeter fetched him a mighty22 slap across the face.
The miner could display no khaki; indeed, he was sleeping deeply again.
“I’m a man o’ me principles, ye rotten matchbox!” yelled the trumpeter. “In the Munsters I was ... seven years ... where’s your kharkee?”
[143]
He seized the miner by the collar and shook that part of the steamer into a new commotion25 until he was collared by the sailors and kicked up on to the foredeck.
Nothing up there, not even his futile26 trumpeting27, could disturb the chill rejoicing beauty of the night. The wind increased, but the moonlight was bland28 and reassuring29. Often the cope of some tall wave would plunge30 dully over the bows, filling the deck with water that floundered foaming32 with the ship’s movement or dribbled33 back through the scuppers into the sea. Yet there was no menace in the dark wandering water; each wave tossed back from its neck a wreath of foam31 that slewed34 like milk across the breast of its follower35.
The trumpeter sat upon a heap of ropes beside a big soldier.
“The rotten matchbox, did ye ever see the like o’ that? I’ll kill him against the first thing we step ashore36, like ye would a flea37!”
“Be aisy,” said the soldier; “why are ye making trouble at all? Have ye hurt your little finger?”
“Trouble, is it? What way would I be making trouble in this world?” exclaimed the trumpeter. “Isn’t it the world itself as puts trouble on ye, so it is, like a wild cat sitting under a tub of unction! O, very pleasant it is, O ay! No, no, my little sojee, that is not it at all. You can’t let the flaming world rush beyant ye like that....”
“Well, it’s a quiet life I’m seeking,” interjected the soldier, wrapping his great coat comfortingly across his breast, “and by this and by that, a quiet night too.”
[144]
“Is that so? Quiet, is it? But I say, my little sojee, you’ll not get it at all and the whole flaming world whickering at ye like a mad cracker38 itself. Would ye sleep on that wid yer quiet life and all? It’s to tame life you’d be doing, like it was a tiger. And it’s no drunken boozer can tame me as was with the Munsters in the East ... for seven holy years.”
“Ah, go off wid you, you’ve hurt your little finger.”
“Me little finger, is it?” cried the trumpeter, holding his thin hands up for inspection39 in the moonlight, “I have not then.”
“You surprise me,” the soldier said, gazing at him with sleepy amused tolerance40. “Did you never hear of Tobin the smith and Mary of Cappoquin?”
“I did not then,” snapped the other. “Who was they?”
“He was a roaring, fatal feller, a holy terror, a giant. He lived in the mountains but he went over the country killing41 things—a tiger or two at an odd time, I’m thinking—and destroying the neat condition of the world. And he had a nasty little bit of a bugle42....”
“Was it the like o’ that?” demanded the other, holding out the trumpet and tapping it with his fingers.
“‘A bugle,’ I said,” replied the soldier sternly, “and every time he puffed43 in its tubes the noise of it was so severe the hens in the town fell dead....”
“The hens!”
“Yes, and the ducks on the ponds were overcome with emotion and sank to the bottom. One day he was in his forge driving a few nails into the shoe of[145] an ass5 when he hit his little finger such a blow, a terrible blow, that it bled for a day. Then he seared the wound with his searing iron, but it was no better, and it bled for a night. I will go—says he—to the physician of Cappoquin and be sewn up with some golden wire. So he drove into Cappoquin, but when he was in it the physician was gone to a christening; there was only his daughter Mary left to attend to him, a bright good girl entirely44, and when she saw the finger she said to Tobin: ‘I declare on my soul if I don’t chop it off it’s not long till you have your death.’ ‘Chop it off, then,’ says Tobin, and she did so. He came back the next day and this is how it was; the physician was gone to a wake. ‘What’s your need?’ asked Mary. He showed her his hand and it dripping with blood. ‘I declare to my God,’ said Mary, ‘if I don’t chop it off it’s short till you have your death.’ ‘Chop it off,’ says Tobin, and she struck off the hand. The day after that he drove in again, but the physician was gone to an inquest about a little matter concerning some remains45 that had been found. ‘What is it today, Tobin?’ and he showed her his arm bleeding in great drops. ‘I declare by the saints,’ says she, ‘that unless I chop it off you’ll die in five minutes.’ ‘Chop it off,’ says Tobin, and she struck off his arm. The next day he was back again with the stump46 of his arm worse than before. ‘Oh, I see what it is,’ said Mary, and going behind him she struck off his head with one blow of her father’s sharp knife and gave it to the cat.”
“That is a neat tale,” said the trumpeter. “Did you[146] hear the story of the dirty soldier and the drummer?”
“No—” The soldier hesitated reflectively. “No, I never heard it.”
“Well, this is how it was....”
But just then the steamer began to approach the harbour, and in the hurry and scurry47 of preparations to land the two friends were separated and the tale was never told.
At the disembarkation passengers and soldiers crowded on the pier48 awaiting the boat train. The harbour was full of lights; the moon was still high in the heavens, but her glory faded as the sun began to rise. The thick densities49 of the night sky quivered into frail50 blues51, violet and silver were mingled52 in the sea, the buildings on the wharf53 looked strange; icily, bitterly grey. The trumpeter ran about in the bleak54 air seeking the “rotten matchbox,” but he could not find him. He comforted himself by executing some castigating55 blares upon his instrument. The hollow wharves56 and the pier staging echoed with acrid57 sound that pleased his simple heart. He blew and blew and blew until he was surrounded by people watching him strain his determined58 eyes and inflate59 his pale cheeks—all of them secretly hoping that the ones might fall out or the others might crack. Suddenly he caught sight of the now-sobered miner, quite close to him, almost touching60 him! The call he was blowing faded with a stupid squeak61. The world began to flame again ... when an officer burst into the circle, demanding to know who he was, where from, and what in all the realm of blasphemous[147] things he meant by tootling in that infernal manner on that infernal thing.
“Discharged I am, sir, it’s with the Munsters I was, seven years, sir, with the Munsters, in the east.”
“You disgrace the Army! If I hear another tootle on that thing, I ... I’ll have you clapped in irons—I will! And ... and transported ... damn me if I don’t! You understand?”
The trumpeter meekly63 saluted as the captain swaggered away. At that moment the miner laid his hand upon his arm.
“What, my little man,” said he, “have you lost your teeth? Give it me now!”
And putting the trumpet to his own lips he blew a brilliant and mocking reveille, whose echoes hurtled far over the harbour and into the neighbouring hills.
“God save us!” cried the trumpeter with a furtive64 eye on the captain at the end of the platform, who did not appear to have heard that miraculous65 salvo, “it’s a great grand breath you’ve got, sir.”
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收听单词发音
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1
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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2
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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3
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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5
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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6
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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8
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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9
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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10
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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11
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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12
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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13
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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14
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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15
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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16
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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17
inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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18
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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19
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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20
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
belligerently
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22
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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23
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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24
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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25
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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26
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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27
trumpeting
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
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28
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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29
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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30
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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31
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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32
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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33
dribbled
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| v.流口水( dribble的过去式和过去分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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34
slewed
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| adj.喝醉的v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去式 )( slew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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36
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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37
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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38
cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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39
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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40
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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41
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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42
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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43
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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44
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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45
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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46
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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47
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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48
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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49
densities
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| 密集( density的名词复数 )； 稠密； 密度（固体、液体或气体单位体积的质量）； 密度（磁盘存贮数据的可用空间） | |
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50
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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51
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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52
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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53
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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54
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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55
castigating
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| v.严厉责骂、批评或惩罚（某人）( castigate的现在分词 ) | |
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56
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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57
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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58
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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59
inflate
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| vt.使膨胀，使骄傲，抬高（物价） | |
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60
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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61
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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62
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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63
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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64
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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65
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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