“Be my sowl! it ates purty well, black as it is,” said Chane, looking ruefully into the empty vessel1. “It’s got a worse complaint than the colour, didn’t yez fetch us a thrifle more of it, my darlint boy?” he added, squinting2 up at José.
“No entiende,” (Don’t understand), said the Mexican, shaking his head.
“No in tin days!” cried Chane, mistaking the “no entiende” for a phrase of broken English, to which, indeed, its pronunciation somewhat assimilates it. “Och! git out wid you! Bad luck to yer picther! In tin days it’s Murtagh Chane that’ll ayther be takin’ his tay in purgathory or atin’ betther than black banes in some other part of the world.”
“No entiende,” repeated the Mexican as before.
“Tin days, indade! Sure we’d be did wid hunger in half the time. We want the banes now.”
“Qué quiere?” (What do you want?) asked the Mexican, speaking to Raoul, who was by this time convulsed with laughter.
“Phwhat’s that he sez, Raowl?” inquired Chane sharply.
“He says he don’t understand you.”
“Thin spake to him yerself, Raowl. Till him we want more banes, and a few more ov thim pancakes, if he plazes.”
Raoul translated the Irishman’s request.
“No hay” (There are none), answered the Mexican, shaking his forefinger3 in front of his nose.
“No I—is that phwhat ye say, my darlint? Well, iv yez won’t go yerself, sind somebody else; it’s all the same thing, so yez bring us the ateables.”
“No entiende” said the man, with the same shake of the head.
“Oh! there agin with your tin days—but it’s no use; yez understand me well enough, but yez don’t want to bring the banes.”
“He tells you there is no more,” said Raoul.
“Oh! the desavin’ Judas! and five hundred ov thim grazers atin’ over beyant there. No more banes! oh, the lie!”
“Frijoles—no hay,” said the Mexican, guessing at the purport4 of Chane’s remarks.
“Fray5 holeys!” repeated Chane, imitating the Mexican’s pronunciation of the word “frijoles”. “Och! git out wid your fray holeys! There isn’t the size of a flay6 of holiness about the place. Git out!”
Raoul, and indeed all of us except the Irishman himself, were bursting with laughter.
“I’m chokin’,” said the latter, after a pause; “ask him for wather, Raowl—sure he can’t deny that, with that purty little sthrame boilin’ up undher our noses, as clear as the potteen of Ennishowen.”
Raoul asked for water, which we all needed. Our throats were as dry as charcoal7. The Mexican made a sign to one of the women, who shortly came up with an earthen jar filled with water.
“Give it first to the captin, misthress,” said Chane, pointing to me; “sarve all ayqually, but respict rank.”
The woman understood the sign, and handed me the jar. I drank copiously8, passing it to my comrades, Clayley and Raoul. Chane at length took the jar; but instead of drinking immediately, as might have been expected, he set it between his knees and looked quizzically up at the woman.
“I say, my little darlint,” said he, winking9, and touching10 her lightly under the ribs11 with his outstretched palm, “my little moochacha—that’s what they call thim—isn’t it, Raowl?”
“Muchacha? oh yes!”
“Well, thin, my purty little moochacha, cudn’t yez?—ye know what I mane—cudn’t yez? Och! ye know well enough—only a little—jist a mouthful to take the cowld taste aff the wather.”
“No entiende,” said the woman, smiling good-naturedly at Chane’s comical gestures.
“Och, the plague! there’s that tin days agin. Talk to her, Raowl. Tell her what I mane.”
Raoul translated his comrade’s wishes.
“Tell her, Raowl, I’ve got no money, becase I have been rabbed, de ye see? but I’ll give her ayther of these saints for the smallest thrifle of agwardent;” and he pulled the images out of his jacket as he spoke12.
The woman, seeing these, bent14 forward with an exclamation15; and, recognising the crucifix, with the images of the saint and Virgin16, dropped upon her knees and kissed them devoutly17, uttering some words in a language half Spanish, half Aztec.
Rising up, she looked kindly18 at Chane, exclaiming, “Bueno Catolico!” She then tossed the rebozo over her left shoulder, and hurried off across the yard.
“De yez think, Raowl, she’s gone after the licker?”
“I am sure of it,” answered the Frenchman.
In a few minutes the woman returned, and, drawing a small flask19 out of the folds of her rebozo, handed it to Chane.
The Irishman commenced undoing20 the string that carried his “relics.”
“Which ov them de yez want, misthress?—the saint, or the Howly Mother, or both?—it’s all the same to Murtagh.”
The woman, observing what he was after, rushed forward, and, placing her hands upon his, said in a kind tone:
“No, Señor. Su proteccion necesita usted.”
“Phwhat diz she say, Raowl?”
“She says, keep them; you will need their protection yourself.”
“Och, be me sowl! she’s not far asthray there. I need it bad enough now, an’ a hape ov good they’re likely to do me. They’ve hung there for tin years—both of thim; and this nate little flask’s the first raal binifit I iver resaved from ayther of them. Thry it, Captin. It’ll do yez good.”
I took the bottle and drank. It was the chingarito—a bad species of aguardiente from the wild aloe—and hot as fire. A mouthful sufficed. I handed the flask to Clayley, who drank more freely. Raoul followed suit, and the bottle came back to the Irishman.
“Your hilth, darlint!” said he, nodding to the Mexican woman. “May yez live till I wish ye dead!”
The woman smiled, and repeated, “No entiende.”
“Och! nivir mind the tin days—we won’t quarrel about that. Ye’re a swate crayteur,” continued he, winking at the woman; “but sure yer petticoats is mighty21 short, an’ yez want a pair of stockin’s bad, too; but nivir mind—yez stand well upon thim illigant ankles—’dade ye do; and yez have a purty little futt into the bargain.”
“Qué dice22?” (What does he say?) asked the Mexican, speaking to Raoul.
“He is complimenting you on the smallness of your feet,” answered the Frenchman.
The woman was evidently pleased, and commenced cramping23 up what was in fact a very small foot into its faded satin slipper24.
“Tell me, my dear,” continued Chane, “are yez married?”
“Qué dice?” again asked the woman.
“He wants to know if you are married.”
She smiled, waving her forefinger in front of her nose.
Raoul informed the Irishman that this was a negative answer to his question.
“By my sowl, thin,” said Chane, “I wudn’t mind marryin’ ye meself, an’ joinin’ the thribe—that is, if they’ll let me off from the hangin’. Tell her that, Raowl.”
As desired, Raoul explained his comrade’s last speech, at which the woman laughed, but said nothing.
“Silence gives consint. But tell her, Raowl, that I won’t buy a pig in a poke13: they must first let me off from the hangin’, de ye hear?—tell her that.”
“El señor está muy alegre,” (The gentleman is very merry), said the woman; and, picking up her jar, with a smile, she left us.
“I say, Raowl, does she consint?”
“She hasn’t made up her mind yet.”
“By the holy vistment! thin it’s all up wid Murt. The saints won’t save him. Take another dhrap, Raowl!”
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1
vessel
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n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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2
squinting
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斜视( squint的现在分词 ); 眯着眼睛; 瞟; 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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3
forefinger
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n.食指 | |
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4
purport
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n.意义,要旨,大要;v.意味著,做为...要旨,要领是... | |
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5
fray
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v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
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6
flay
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vt.剥皮;痛骂 | |
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7
charcoal
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n.炭,木炭,生物炭 | |
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8
copiously
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adv.丰富地,充裕地 | |
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9
winking
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n.瞬眼,目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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10
touching
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adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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11
ribs
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n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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12
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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13
poke
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n.刺,戳,袋;vt.拨开,刺,戳;vi.戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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14
bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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15
exclamation
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n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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16
virgin
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n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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17
devoutly
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adv.虔诚地,虔敬地,衷心地 | |
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18
kindly
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adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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19
flask
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n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
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20
undoing
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n.毁灭的原因,祸根;破坏,毁灭 | |
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21
mighty
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adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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22
dice
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n.骰子;vt.把(食物)切成小方块,冒险 | |
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23
cramping
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图像压缩 | |
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24
slipper
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n.拖鞋 | |
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