The family board was spread; the family kettle—an unusually fat one—was singing on the fire, and the family chimney was roaring like a lion by reason of the wind, which blew a hurricane outside, and shook the family mansion1, a small wooden hut, to its foundations.
The hour was midnight. This fact was indicated by the family clock—a Dutch one, with a face which had once been white, but was now become greenish yellow, probably from horror at the profanity of the artist who had painted a basket of unrecognisable fruit above it, an irate2 cockatoo below it, and a blue church with a pink steeple as near to the centre of it as the hands would admit of.
The family circle, consisting of a stout3 good-looking woman of thirty or thereabouts, and a little boy and girl, were of the fisher class, obviously so to the senses of sight and smell. They sat by the fire.
It was an unusual hour for supper, but then it was an unusually wild night, and the frequent glance cast by the woman at the Dutch clock with the horrified4 countenance5, showed clearly that the board was not spread for the family meal, but that they waited up for some absent one.
I have said that the family circle sat by the fire, but this is not strictly6 correct. One member of it, the little boy, stood in the middle of the room, howling!—howling so violently that his fat face had changed from its wonted bright red to deep purple. Looking at him—as he stood there arrayed in his uncle’s red night-cap, his own night-shirt, which was also a day-shirt and much too small, and his father’s pea-jacket, which was preposterously8 too large—one could not avoid the alarming surmise9 that there might be such a thing as juvenile10 apoplexy, and that that boy was on the point of becoming a living, if not a dead, example of the terrible disease.
Oh! it was a sweet child, a charming infant, altogether a delightful11 creature to look upon, that son of Stephen Gaff, as it stood there yelling like a hyena12, stamping like a mad bull, washing its dirty hands in tears on its dirtier cheeks, cramming13 its little knuckles14 into its swollen15 eyes as if it sought to burst the organs of vision in their sockets16, and presenting, generally, an appearance of rampant17 rage and woe18 that baffles all capacity of conception, and therefore defies all power of description.
This cherub’s name was Billy,—Billy Gaff; more familiarly known amongst his friends as “The Bu’ster,” owing to his tendency to explode into tears, or laughter, or mischief19, or fun, as the case might be. He was about eleven years of age.
My own name, reader, is Bingley. Having retired20 on half-pay from the Royal Navy, I reside in a pleasant cottage in the suburbs of the well-known and important seaport21 town of Wreckumoft, situate on the east coast of England. My front windows command a magnificent view of the sea; my back windows command an equally magnificent view of landscape. I have a magnificent wife, and she commands the household, myself included. There was a time—I reflect on it with melancholy22 pride and subdued23 satisfaction—when I commanded a British seventy-four. I command nothing now but my temper. That, however, is a stronghold from which nothing terrestrial can drive me.
My friends style me “The Captain,” but I am not the hero of this tale. No, by no means. I am altogether unheroic in my nature, commonplace in my character. If a novelist were to describe me, he would write me down a stout little old gentleman, with a bald head and a mild countenance; mentally weak in expression, active in habits, and addicted24 to pipes and loose clothing.
Do not imagine that this is my account of myself; no, it is an ideal resulting from the oft-repeated assurances of my wife, who is a strong-minded woman, a few inches taller than myself, somewhat raw-boned and much more powerful, physically25, though less rotund. In fact, if I were to attempt a brief comprehensive description of her, I would say, without the most distant feeling of disrespect of course, that she is square and skinny—singularly so!
Mrs Bingley’s contempt for my intellect is excelled, I might almost say redeemed26, by her love for myself. How she manages to separate between myself and my intellect I have never been able to understand; but then she is strong-minded, which perhaps accounts for her seeing farther into this millstone than I can. She tells me, not unfrequently, that I am weak-minded. She even goes the length at times of calling me imbecile; but she is a dear good affectionate woman, and I have no sympathy with the insolent27 remark I once overheard made by an acquaintance of mine, to the effect that it was a pity Mrs Bingley had not been born with a man’s hat and trousers on—no, none whatever.
Before dismissing myself, descriptively at least, (for, being an honorary agent of the Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners’ Society, and an actor in some of the scenes which I am about to describe, I cannot conveniently dismiss myself altogether); before dismissing myself, I say, it may be as well to explain that my strong-minded wife, in concert with a number of variously-minded women, (all more or less strong), and a good many weak and otherwise minded men, have come to form their opinion of me in consequence of my holding rather strongly a few opinions of my own—to the effect that there are a good many wrong things in this world, (admittedly wrong things); a good many muddles29; a good many glaring and outrageous30 abuses and shameful31 things the continuance of which reflects discredit32 on the nation, and the wiping out or putting right of which ought, by all means, to be set about earnestly and at once.
Now, curiously33 enough, it is the idea conveyed in the last two words—at once—which sticks in the throats of my strong-minded opponents! They agree with me as to the existence of the evils, they honestly deplore34 them, but they charge me with mental imbecility when I suggest that things should be put right at once. They counsel delay, and when the dispute reaches a certain stage they smile at me with contempt, or pity, or they storm, according to individual temperament35, and usually wind up with a rasping reiteration36 of their original opinions, highly peppered and salted, and an assurance that I have been born at least a century before my time.
If the men of the next century are destined37 to do good, “as their hands find opportunity,” without previous delay until thousands of opportunities are lost and gone for ever; if those who put their hands to a piece of work shall carry it out with vigour38 in their own lifetime; if those who counsel delay shall mean due time for full consideration by themselves, and shall not mean an extended procrastination39 which shall free themselves from worry, and leave their work to be handed down as a legacy40 to their children, who shall likewise hand it down to their children, and so on ad infinitum until “delay” shall become a synonym41 for death and destruction to tens of thousands of better men than themselves,—if this shall be the sentiment and practice of the men of next century, then I confess that my sympathies are with them, and I really suspect that I must have got into the wrong century by mistake. But as the position is irremediable now, I suppose I must, in an imbecile sort of fashion, go on my way rejoicing—if I can—sorrowing if I cannot rejoice.
Mrs Bingley having more than once threatened to scratch my face when I have ventured to express the last sentiment, it may be perhaps as well to change the subject and return to Billy Gaff, the charming child, alias42 the Bu’ster.
Billy deserves to be somewhat particularly introduced, because, besides being an actor in this tale, he was a boy of strong character. If I were to sum him up and reduce the total to a concentrated essence, the result would be a sentence to the following effect:— Billy Gaff had a will of his own! Perhaps I should say a very strong will of his own. For instance, he, on several different occasions, willed to screw off the spout43 of the family tea-pot, a pewter one, and, having willed to do it, he did it. Again he willed, more than once, to smash a pane44 of glass in the solitary45 window of the family mansion, and he did smash a pane of glass in that window; nay46, more, in consequence of being heartily47 whacked48 for the deed, he immediately willed to smash, and smashed, a second pane, and was proceeding49 to will and smash a third when he was caught up by his mother, beaten almost into the condition of a mummy, and thrust under the clothes of the family bed, which immediately creaked as if with convulsions, and tossed its blankets about in apparent agony.
On the present occasion the Bu’ster had awakened50 out of a sound sleep to the conviction that he was hungry. Observing the loaf on the table, he immediately willed to have a second supper, and arising, donned his father’s pea-jacket, in order to enjoy the meal more thoroughly51.
It was the sudden removal of the said loaf by his mother to an unreachable shelf that induced the youthful Billy to stand in the middle of the room and howl, as already described.
He was still engaged in emulating52 the storm, and Mrs Gaff, utterly53 indifferent to him, had cast another glance at the horrified clock, and remarked to her little girl Tottie, that “Uncle John must have found work on the shore, for he was long of coming,” when a heavy tread was heard in the little porch outside the door.
“Hold yer noise,” said Mrs Gaff sternly.
Billy obeyed, not by any means in consequence of the command, but because he was curious to know who was about to enter, and meant to resume yelling immediately after his curiosity on this point should be satisfied.
The door opened, and a strong-built seaman54 stepped into the room, and looked at the family with a quiet smile on his sunburnt face. His hair and garments were dripping with water, as if he had just walked out of the sea.
On beholding55 him the family rose and stood for a moment speechless. Billy sat down on the floor in that prompt manner which is peculiar56 to young children when they lose their balance; simultaneously57 with the shock of being seated the word “faither” burst from his lips. Mrs Gaff uttered a suppressed cry, and ran into the wet man’s arms. Tottie and the Bu’ster each ran at a leg, and hugging it violently, squeezed a cataract58 of salt water into their respective bosoms59.
“Stephen, lad, is’t you?” said the wife, raising her head for a moment and looking up in the man’s face.
“Ay, dear lass, wrecked28 again; but safe home, thank God.”
Mrs Gaff was not wont7 to give way to the melting mood, but she could not restrain a few tears of joy. Tottie, observing this, cried from sympathy; and the Bu’ster, not to be outdone, willed, began, and carried into execution, a series of true British cheers, that could not have been surpassed, perhaps could not have been equalled, by any boy of his age in or out of the Royal Navy.
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1
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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7
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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preposterously
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| adv.反常地；荒谬地；荒谬可笑地；不合理地 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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11
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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hyena
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| n.土狼，鬣狗 | |
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13
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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14
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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15
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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17
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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18
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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27
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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29
muddles
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| v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的第三人称单数 )；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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30
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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33
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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deplore
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| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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reiteration
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| n. 重覆, 反覆, 重说 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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procrastination
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| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
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40
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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41
synonym
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| n.同义词，换喻词 | |
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42
alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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43
spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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44
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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45
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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46
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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48
whacked
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| a.精疲力尽的 | |
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49
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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50
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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51
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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52
emulating
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的现在分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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53
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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54
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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55
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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56
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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57
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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58
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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59
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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