Retracing2 his steps hastily to the village of Cove, Stephen Gaff sought out his own humble3 cottage, which, during his absence on his frequent voyages, was left under the charge of his fisherman brother-in-law, John Furby. Presenting himself at the door, he created the family sensation which has been described at the end of the first chapter.
The first violent demonstrations4 of surprise and joy over, Mrs Gaff dragged her husband into a small closet, which was regarded by the household in the light of a spare room, and there compelled him to change his garments. While this change was being made the volatile5 Bu’ster, indignant at being bolted out, kicked the door with his heel until he became convinced that no good or evil could result from the process. Then his active mind reverted6 to the forbidden loaf, and he forthwith drew a chair below the shelf on which it lay. Upon the chair he placed a three-legged stool, and upon the stool an eight-inch block, which latter being an unstable7 foundation, caused Billy to lose his balance when he got upon it. The erection instantly gave way, and fell with a hideous8 crash. Tottie, who stood near, gazing at her brother’s misdeeds, as was her wont9, in awe-stricken admiration10, was overwhelmed in the débris.
Nothing daunted11, the Bu’ster “returned to the charge,” and fell a second time,—with the loaf, however, in his arms.
“Hah!” exclaimed Mrs Gaff, issuing from the spare room, and rushing at her offspring with uplifted hand.
“Stop, lass,” said Stephen, arresting her, and catching12 up the boy, whom he placed on his knee as he sat down in a chair beside the fire. “How are ’ee, Billy, my lad?”
Billy, glaring defiance13 at his mother, who returned the glare with interest in the shape of a united shake of the fist and head, replied that he was “fuss’rate.”
Tottie having immediately claimed, and been put in possession of the other knee, divided her father’s attention, and while the goodwife busied herself in preparing the supper, which had been originally intended for “Uncle John,” a quick fire of question and reply of the most varied14 and unconnected sort was kept up by the trio at the fire, in tones, and accompanied by hugs and gestures, which proved beyond all doubt that Stephen Gaff was a father of the right kind, and that the little ones hailed him as an inestimable addition to their household joys.
It would be unjust to Mrs Gaff were I to permit the reader to suppose that she was a disagreeable contrast to the father. She was true-hearted and loving, but she had been born and bred in the midst of a class of people whose manners are as rough as their calling, and was by no means tender or considerate. A terrific scream, or a knock-down slap, from Mrs Gaff, was regarded both by giver and recipient15 in much the same light as is a mild reproof16 in more polite society.
“Wrecked17 again, Stephen,” said Mrs Gaff, pausing in her occupation, and recurring18 to the remark made by her husband when he first entered the room, “where have ’ee bin19 wrecked this time?”
“A’most at the door, lass, on the Black Rock.”
“Ay, an’ was all the rest saved?” inquired the wife.
“No, none of ’em. A’ lost save one, a little child.”
“A child, lad!” exclaimed the wife in surprise; “what have ’ee done wi’ it?”
“Took it to its friends.”
As he said this the sailor gave his wife a look which induced her to refrain from further questioning on that subject.
“An’ who saved ye, Stephen?”
“God saved me,” replied the man, earnestly.
“True, lad; but was there none o’ the boys there to lend a hand?”
“No, none. It puzzled me a bit,” said Stephen, “for the lads are wont to be on the look-out on a night like this.”
“It needn’t puzzle ye, then,” replied the wife, as she set a chair for her husband at the table, and poured out a cup of tea, “for there’s bin two sloops20 an’ a schooner21 on the rocks off the pier-head for three hours past, an’ a’ the lads are out at them,—Uncle John among the rest. They’ve made him coxswain o’ the new lifeboat since ye last went to sea.”
Stephen set down the cup, which he had just raised to his lips, untasted, and rose hastily.
“Wrecks at the pier-head, lass,” he exclaimed, “and you let me sit here idle!”
“Don’t go, Stephen,” entreated22 Mrs Gaff; “you’re not fit to do anything after sitch a night, an’ its o’er late.”
The man paid no attention to the remonstrance23, but buttoned up his coat, and seized his cap.
Mrs Gaff promptly24 locked the door with an air of thorough determination, put the key in her bosom25, and crossed her arms thereon tightly.
Stephen smiled slightly as he turned, raised the window, and leaped through it into the road, followed by a vociferous26 cheer from Billy, whose spirit was wildly stirred by the boldness and success of the movement, and mightily27 rejoiced at the discomfiture28 of his mother.
Mrs Gaff relieved her feelings by slapping the Bu’ster’s face, and was about to close the window when her husband quietly stepped through it again, saying—
“Open the door, lass, you’ve no need to fear; I’ll remain now.”
There was a trampling29 of many feet outside. The door had scarcely been unlocked when they were in the passage. Next moment four fishermen entered, bearing the figure of a man in their arms.
“He an’t drownded, lass, only swownded,” said one of the men to Mrs Gaff, with the view of relieving the good woman’s anxiety, as they laid a seaman30 on the bed. “Look alive now, old girl, an’ git hot blankets an’ bottles.”
While Mrs Gaff obeyed in silent haste, the room was filled with men, some of whom supported or half-carried others, whose drooping31 heads, torn garments, and haggard faces, showed that they had just been rescued from the angry sea. None of them were more than partially32 clothed; some were nearly naked. With excited haste the fishermen crowded the wrecked men round the fire, and spread blankets and sails, or whatever came first to hand, on the floor for those who were most exhausted33 to lie down upon, while Stephen Gaff poured hot tea and hot grog indiscriminately into cups, saucers, pannikins, and soup-plates, and urged them to drink with rough but kindly34 hospitality.
The wrecked men, (there were twelve of them), were Russians, and as a matter of course could not understand a word that was said to them, although some of the fishermen asked them, with as much earnestness as if their lives depended on the answer, “Who—they—wos—an’—whar’—they—com’d—fro’?”
Receiving for reply a stare and a shake of the head from such of the men as were able to attend, one of the fishermen tried them again with great precision and slowness of speech, and with much solemnity of manner, “What—part—o’ the arth—d’ye hail fro’,—lads?”
No answer, accompanied by a stare and a shake.
“Oh, it’s o’ no use,” cried one, “let the poor lads a-be.”
“Hallo! Dan,” cried another, as a man forced his way through the crowded room towards the fire, “you’ve bin in Toorkey, I believe; I say, try them fellers wi’ a screed35 o’ Toorko. P’raps they’ll make that out.”
The individual addressed was very different from the men amongst whom he stood. He was a thin, slightly-made, yet strong and active young man, in a very short grey coat, a very long striped vest, and very tight corduroy trousers—a sort of compound of footman and jockey. In truth, Daniel Horsey was both; being at once valet and groom36 to the romantic Kenneth, whose fate it was, (according to the infallible Mrs Niven), to be “drownded.”
Dan’s first inquiry37 was as to whether any one had seen his master, and the tones in which the question was put betokened38 him, beyond all doubt, a son of the Green Isle39.
Being told that no one had seen his master, he was about to leave the hut in quest of him when he was collared by several stout40 men, and placed forcibly in front of a Russian with a huge red beard, who appeared to be the least exhausted of the party.
“Come now, Dan, say somethin’ to them Roosians.”
“Arrah! d’ye think I’ll spake a word av ye stick yer great ugly fists into my jooglar veins41 like that? Hands off,” he cried indignantly, “or niver a taste o’ spaitch ye’ll git from me, bad or good. Besides, what duv I know about Roosian?”
“Ye’ve bin in Toorkey, han’t ye?” inquired a fisherman.
“Troth I have, an’ what o’ that?” replied Dan, as his captors released their hold of his collar.
“Ye can speak Toorko, can’t ye?”
“Maybe I can,” he replied cautiously.
“Well, I’m told that Toorkey lies to the suthard o’ Roosia, just as England lies to the suthard o’ Scotland, an’ so, mayhap, they’ll understand a bit Toorko.”
“Faix, av they don’t understand Thoorko better nor the English understand Scotch42, it’s little speed I’ll come wi’ them,” said Dan with a leer. “Howsomediver, I’ll give ’em a trial. I say, Mr Red-beard, hubba doorum bobble moti squorum howko joski tearum thaddi whak? Come, now, avic, let’s hear what ye’ve got to say to that. An’ mind what ye spake, ’cause we won’t stand no blarney here.”
Dan uttered this with immense volubility and assurance, and the fishermen regarded him with deepening respect, as they awaited the Russian’s answer. He replied by a stare and a shake of the head as before.
“Hookum daddy,” resumed Dan, stooping to gaze earnestly into the man’s face, and placing the thumb of his right hand into the palm of his left, by way of emphasising his remark, “Hookum daddy, saringo spolli-jaker tooraloo be japers bang falairo—och!” he added, turning away with a look of disgust, “he don’t understand a word. I would try him wi’ Frinch, but it’s clear as ditch wather that he’s half drownded still.”
Convinced that Dan Horsey’s “Toorko” was of no use, the fishermen at length allowed him to retire.
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收听单词发音
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1
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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2
retracing
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| v.折回( retrace的现在分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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3
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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4
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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5
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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6
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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7
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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8
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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9
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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10
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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11
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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13
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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14
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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15
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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16
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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17
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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18
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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19
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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20
sloops
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| n.单桅纵帆船( sloop的名词复数 ) | |
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21
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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22
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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24
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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25
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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26
vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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27
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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28
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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29
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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30
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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31
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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32
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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33
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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34
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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35
screed
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| n.长篇大论 | |
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36
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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37
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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38
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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41
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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42
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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