He could tell that Yusef was working late in his office on the quay1. The little white two-storeyed building stood beside the wooden jetty on the edge of Africa, just beyond the army dumps of petrol, and a line of light showed under the curtains of the landward window. A policeman saluted2 Scobie as he picked his way between the crates4. ‘All quiet, corporal?’
‘All quiet, sah.’
‘Have you patrolled at the Kru Town end?’
‘Oh yes, sah. All quiet, sah.’ He could tell from the promptitude of the reply how untrue it was.
‘Oh no, sah. All very quiet like the grave.’ The stale literary phrase showed that the man had been educated at a mission school.
‘Well, good night.’
‘Good night, sah.’
Scobie went on. It was many weeks now since he had seen Yusef - not since the night of the blackmail6, and now he felt an odd yearning7 towards his tormentor8. The little white building magnetized him, as though concealed9 there was his only companionship, the only man he could trust At least his blackmailer10 knew him as no one else did: he could sit opposite that fat absurd figure and tell the whole truth. In this new world of lies his blackmailer was at home: he knew the paths: he could advise: even help ... Round the comer of a crate3 came Wilson. Scobie’s torch lit his face like a map.
‘Why, Wilson,’ Scobie said, ‘you are out late.’
‘Yes,’ Wilson said, and Scobie thought uneasily, how he hates me.
‘You’ve got a pass for the quay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Keep away from the Kru Town end. It’s not safe there alone. No more nose bleeding?’
‘No,’ Wilson said. He made no attempt to move; it seemed always his way - to stand blocking a path: a man one had to walk round.
‘Well, I’ll be saying good night, Wilson. Look in any time. Louise ...’
Wilson said, ‘I love her, Scobie.’
‘I thought you did,’ Scobie said. ‘She likes you, Wilson.’
‘I love her,’ Wilson repeated. He plucked at the tarpaulin11 over the crate and said, ‘You wouldn’t know what that means.’
‘What means?’
‘Love. You don’t love anybody except yourself, your dirty self.’
‘You are overwrought, Wilson. It’s the climate. Go and lie down.’
‘You wouldn’t act as you do if you loved her.’ Over the black tide, from an invisible ship, came the sound of a gramophone playing some popular heart-rending tune12. A sentry13 by the Field Security post challenged and somebody replied with a password. Scobie lowered his torch till it lit only Wilson’s mosquito-boots. He said, ‘Love isn’t as simple as you think it is, Wilson. You read too much poetry.’
‘What would you do if I told her everything - about Mrs Rolt?’
‘But you have told her, Wilson. What you believe. But she prefers my story.’
‘One day I’ll ruin you, Scobie.’
‘Would that help Louise?’
‘I could make her happy,’ Wilson claimed ingenuously14, with a breaking voice that took Scobie back over fifteen years - to a much younger man than this soiled specimen15 who listened to Wilson at the sea’s edge, hearing under the words the low sucking of water against wood. He said gently, ‘You’d try. I know you’d try. Perhaps...’ but he had no idea himself how that sentence was supposed to finish, what vague comfort for Wilson had brushed his mind and gone again. Instead an irritation16 took him against the gangling17 romantic figure by the crate who was so ignorant and yet knew so much. He said, ‘I wish meanwhile you’d stop spying on me.’
‘It’s my job.’ Wilson admitted, and his boots moved in the torchlight.
‘The things you find out are so unimportant.’ He left Wilson beside the petrol dump and walked on. As he climbed the steps to Yusef s office he could see, looking back, an obscure thickening of the darkness where Wilson stood and watched and hated. He would go home and draft a report. ‘At 11.25 I observed Major Scobie going obviously by appointment...’
Scobie knocked and walked right in where Yusef half lay behind his desk, his legs upon it, dictating18 to a black clerk. Without breaking his sentence - ‘five hundred rolls matchbox design, seven hundred and fifty bucket and sand, six hundred poker19 dot artificial silk’ - he looked up at Scobie with hope and apprehension20. Then he said sharply to the clerk, ‘Get out. But come back. Tell my boy that I see no one.’ He took his legs from the desk, rose and held out a flabby hand, ‘Welcome, Major Scobie,’ then let it fall like an unwanted piece of material. ‘This is the first time you have ever honoured my office, Major Scobie.’
‘I don’t know why I’ve come here now, Yusef.’
‘It is a long time since we have seen each other.’ Yusef sat down and rested his great head wearily on a palm like a dish. ‘Time goes so differently for two people - fast or slow. According to their friendship.’
‘There’s probably a Syrian poem about that.’
‘There is, Major Scobie,’ he said eagerly.
‘You should be friends with Wilson, not me, Yusef. He reads poetry. I have a prose mind.’
‘A whisky, Major Scobie?’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’ He sat down on the other side of the desk and the inevitable21 blue syphon stood between them.
‘And how is Mrs Scobie?’
‘Why did you send me that diamond, Yusef?’
‘I was in your debt, Major Scobie.’
‘Oh no, you weren’t You paid me off in full with a bit of paper.’
‘I try so hard to forget that that was the way. I tell myself it was really friendship - at bottom it was friendship.’
‘It’s never any good lying to oneself, Yusef. One sees through the lie too easily.’
‘Major Scobie, if I saw more of you, I should become a better man.’ The soda22 hissed23 in the glasses and Yusef drank greedily. He said, ‘I can feel in my heart, Major Scobie, that you are anxious, depressed24 ... I have always wished that you would come to me in trouble.’
Scobie said, ‘I used to laugh at the idea - that I should ever come to you.’
‘In Syria we have a story of a lion and a mouse...’
‘We have the same story, Yusef. But I’ve never thought of you as a mouse, and I’m no lion. No lion.’
‘It is about Mrs Rolt you are troubled. And your wife, Major Scobie?’
‘Yes.’
‘You do not need to be ashamed with me, Major Scobie. I have had much woman trouble in my life. Now it is better because I have learned the way. The way is not to care a damn. Major Scobie. You say to each of them, ‘I do not care a damn. I sleep with whom I please. You take me or leave me. I do not care a damn.’’ They always take you, Major Scobie.’ He sighed into his whisky. ‘Sometimes I have wished they would not take me.’
‘I’ve gone to great lengths, Yusef, to keep things from my wife.’
‘I know the lengths you have gone, Major Scobie.’
‘Not the whole length. The business with the diamonds was very small compared...’
‘Yes?’
‘You wouldn’t understand. Anyway somebody else knows now - Ali.’
‘But you trust Ali?’
‘I think I trust him. But he knows about you too. He came in last night and saw the diamond there. Your boy was very indiscreet.’
The big broad hand shifted on the table. ‘I will deal with my boy presently.’
‘Ali’s half-brother is Wilson’s boy. They see each other.’
‘That is certainly bad,’ Yusef said.
He had told all his worries now - all except the worst. He had the odd sense of having for the first time in his life shifted a burden elsewhere. And Yusef carried it - he obviously carried it He raised himself from his chair and now moved his great haunches to the window, staring at the green black-out curtain as though it were a landscape. A hand went up to his mouth and he began to bite his nails - snip25, snip, snip, his teeth closed on each nail in turn. Then he began on the other hand. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about really,’ Scobie said. He was touched by uneasiness, as though he had accidentally set in motion a powerful machine he couldn’t control.
‘It is a bad thing not to trust,’ Yusef said. ‘One must always have boys one trusts. You must always know more about them than they do about you.’ That, apparently26, was his conception of trust. Scobie said, ‘I used to trust him.’
Yusef looked at his trimmed nails and took another bite. He said, ‘Do not worry. I will not have you worry. Leave everything to me, Major Scobie. I will find out for you whether you can trust him.’ He made the startling claim, ‘I will look after you.’
‘How can you do that?’ I feel no resentment27, he thought with weary surprise. I am being looked after, and a kind of nursery peace descended28.
‘You mustn’t ask me questions, Major Scobie. You must leave everything to me just this once. I understand the way.’ Moving from the window Yusef turned on Scobie eyes like closed telescopes, blank and brassy. He said with a soothing29 nurse’s gesture of the broad wet palm, ‘You will just write a little note to your boy, Major Scobie, asking him to come here. I will talk to him. My boy will take it to him.’
‘But Ali can’t read.’
‘Better still then. You win send some token with my boy to show that he comes from you. Your signet ring.’
‘What are you going to do, Yusef?’
‘I am going to help you, Major Scobie. That is all.’ Slowly, reluctantly, Scobie drew at his ring. He said, ‘He’s been with me fifteen years. I always have trusted him until now.’
‘You will see,’ Yusef said. ‘Everything will be all right’ He spread out his palm to receive the ring and their hands touched: it was like a pledge between conspirators30. ‘Just a few words.’
‘The ring won’t come off,’ Scobie said. He felt an odd unwillingness31. ‘It’s not necessary, anyway. He’ll come if your boy tells him that I want him.’
‘I do not think so. They do not like to come to the wharf at night.’
‘He will be all right He won’t be alone. Your boy will be with him.’
‘Oh yes, yes, of course. But I still think - if you would just send something to show - well, that it is not a trap. Yusef s boy is no more trusted, you see, than Yusef.’
‘Let him come tomorrow, then.’
‘Tonight is better,’ Yusef said.
Scobie felt in his pockets: the broken rosary grated on his nails. He said, ‘Let him take this, but it’s not necessary...’ and fell silent, staring back at those blank eyes.
‘Thank you,’ Yusef said. ‘This is most suitable.’ At the door he said, ‘Make yourself at home, Major Scobie. Pour yourself another drink. I must give my boy instructions...’
He was away a very long time. Scobie poured himself a third whisky and then, because the little office was so airless, he drew the seaward curtains after turning out the light and let what wind there was trickle32 in from the bay. The moon was rising and the naval33 depot34 ship glittered like grey ice. Restlessly he made his way to the other window that looked up the quay towards the sheds and lumber35 of the native town. He saw Yusef s clerk coming back from there, and he thought how Yusef must have the wharf rats well under control if his clerk could pass alone through their quarters. I came for help, he told himself, and I am being looked after - how, and at whose cost? This was the day of All Saints and he remembered how mechanically, almost without fear or shame, he had knelt at the rail this second time and watched the priest come. Even that act of damnation could become as unimportant as a habit. He thought: my heart has hardened, and he pictured the fossilized shells one picks up On a beach: the stony36 convolutions like arteries37. One can strike God once too often. After that does one care what happens? It seemed to him that he had rotted so far that it was useless to make any effort. God was lodged38 in his body and his body was corrupting39 outwards40 from that seed.
‘It was too hot?’ Yusef’s voice said. ‘Let us leave the room dark. With a friend the darkness is kind.’
‘You have been a very long time.’
Yusef said with what must have been deliberate vagueness, ‘There was much to see to.’ It seemed to Scobie that now or never he must ask what was Yusef s plan, but the weariness of his corruption41 halted his tongue. ‘Yes, it’s hot,’ he said, ‘let’s try and get a cross-draught,’ and he opened the side window on to the quay. ‘I wonder if Wilson has gone home.’
‘Wilson?’
‘He watched me come here.’
‘You must not worry, Major Scobie. I think your boy can be made quite trustworthy.’
He said with relief and hope, ‘Yon mean you have a hold on him?’
‘Don’t ask questions. You will see.’ The hope and the relief both wilted42. He said, ‘Yusef, I must know...’ but Yusef said, ‘I have always dreamed of an evening just like this with two glasses by our side and darkness and time to talk about important things, Major Scobie. God. The family. Poetry. I have great appreciation43 of Shakespeare. The Royal Ordnance44 Corps45 have very fine actors and they have made me appreciate the gems46 of English literature. I am crazy about Shakespeare. Sometimes because of Shakespeare I would like to be able to read, but I am too old to learn. And I think perhaps I would lose my memory. That would be bad for business, and though I do not live for business I must do business to live. There are so many subjects I would like to talk to you about. I should like to hear the philosophy of your life.’
‘I have none.’
‘The piece of cotton you hold in your hand in the forest’
‘I’ve lost my way.’
‘Not a man like you, Major Scobie. I have such an admiration47 for your character. You are a just man.’
‘I never was, Yusef. I didn’t know myself that’s all. There’s a proverb, you know, about in the end is the beginning. When I was born I was sitting here with you drinking whisky, knowing...’
‘Knowing what, Major Scobie?’
Scobie emptied his glass. He said, ‘Surely your boy must have got to my house now.’
‘He has a bicycle.’
‘Then they should be on their way back.’
‘We must not be impatient. We may have to sit a long time, Major Scobie. You know what boys are.’
‘I thought I did.’ He found his left hand was trembling on the desk and he put it between his knees to hold it still. He remembered the long trek48 beside the border: innumerable lunches in the forest shade, with Ali cooking in an old sardine-tin, and again that last drive to Bamba came to mind - the long wait at the ferry, the fever coming down on him, and Ali always at hand. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and he thought for a moment: This is just a sickness, a fever, I shall wake soon. The record of the last six months - the first night in the Nissen hut, the letter which said too much, the smuggled49 diamonds, the lies, the sacrament taken to put a woman’s mind at ease - seemed as insubstantial as shadows over a bed cast by a hurricane-lamp. He said to himself: I am waking up, and heard the sirens blowing the alert just as on that night, that night ... He shook his head and came awake to Yusef sitting in the dark on the other side of the desk, to the taste of the whisky, and the knowledge that everything was the same. He said wearily, ‘They ought to be here by now.’
Yusef said, ‘You know what boys are. They get scared by the siren and they take shelter. We must sit here and talk to each other, Major Scobie. It is a great opportunity for me. I do not want the morning ever to come.’
‘The morning? I am not going to wait till morning for AIL’
‘Perhaps he will be frightened. He will know you have found him out and he will run away. Sometimes boys go back to bush ...’
‘You are talking nonsense, Yusef.’
‘Another whisky, Major Scobie?’
‘All right. All right.’ He thought: am I taking to drink too? It seemed to him that he had no shape left, nothing you could touch and say: this is Scobie.
‘Major Scobie, there are rumours50 that after all justice is to be done and that you are to be Commissioner51.’
He said with care,’ I don’t think it will ever come to that’
‘I just wanted to say, Major Scobie, that you need not worry about me. I want your good, nothing so much as that. I will slip out of your life, Major Scobie. I will not be a millstone. It is enough for me to have had tonight - this long talk in the dark on all sorts of subjects. I will remember tonight always. You will not have to worry. I will see to that’ Through the window behind Yusef’s head, from somewhere among the jumble52 of huts and warehouses53, a cry came: pain and fear: it swam up like a drowning animal for air, and fell again into the darkness of the room, into the whisky, under the desk, into the basket of wastepaper, a discarded finished cry.
Yusef said too quickly, ‘A drunk man.’ He yelped54 apprehensively55, ‘Where are you going, Major Scobie? It’s not safe - alone.’ That was the last Scobie ever saw of Yusef, a silhouette56 stuck stiffly and crookedly57 on the wall, with the moonlight shining on the syphon and the two drained glasses. At the bottom of the stairs the clerk stood, staring down the wharf. The moonlight caught his eyes: like road studs they showed the way to turn.
There was no movement in the empty warehouses on either side or among the sacks and crates as he moved his torch: if the wharf rats had been out, that cry had driven them back to their holes. His footsteps echoed between the sheds, and somewhere a pye-dog wailed58. It would have been quite possible to have searched in vain in this wilderness59 of litter until morning: what was it that brought him so quickly and unhesitatingly to the body, as though he had himself chosen the scene of the crime? Turning this way and that down the avenues of tarpaulin and wood, he was aware of a nerve in his forehead that beat out the whereabouts of Ali.
The body lay coiled and unimportant like a broken watch-spring under a pile of empty petrol drums: it looked as though it had been shovelled60 there to wait for morning and the scavenger61 birds. Scobie had a moment of hope before he turned the shoulder over, for after all two boys had been together on the road. The seal grey neck had been slashed62 and slashed again. Yes, he thought, I can trust him now. The yellow eyeballs stared up at him like a stranger’s, flecked with red. It was as if this body had cast him off, disowned him - ‘I know you not’. He swore aloud, hysterically63. ‘By God, I’ll get the man who did this,’ but under that anonymous64 stare insincerity withered65. He thought: I am the man. Didn’t I know all the time in Yusef s room that something was planned? Couldn’t I have pressed for an answer? A voice said, ‘Sah?’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Corporal Laminah, sah..’
‘Can you see a broken rosary anywhere around? Look care’ fully66.’
‘I can see nothing, sah..’
Scobie thought: if only I could weep, if only I could feel pain; have I really become so evil? Unwillingly67 he looked down at the body. The fumes68 of petrol lay all around in the heavy night and for a moment he saw the body as something very small and dark and a long way away - like a broken piece of the rosary he looked for: a couple of black beads69 and the image of God coiled at the end of it Oh God, he thought, I’ve killed you: you’ve served me all these years and I’ve killed you at the end of them. God lay there under the petrol drums and Scobie felt the tears in his mouth, salt in the cracks of his lips. You served me and I did this to you. You were faithful to me, and I wouldn’t trust you.
‘What is it, sah?’ the corporal whispered, kneeling by the body.
‘I loved him,’ Scobie said,
收听单词发音 |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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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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crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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blackmailer
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| 敲诈者，勒索者 | |
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tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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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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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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ingenuously
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| adv.率直地，正直地 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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gangling
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| adj.瘦长得难看的 | |
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dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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descended
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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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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corrupting
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的现在分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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ordnance
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| n.大炮，军械 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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trek
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| vi.作长途艰辛的旅行；n.长途艰苦的旅行 | |
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smuggled
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| 水货 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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51
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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54
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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crookedly
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| adv. 弯曲地，不诚实地 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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shovelled
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| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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scavenger
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| n.以腐尸为食的动物，清扫工 | |
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62
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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65
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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