The attainment1 of Felicity is said to be the aim of all mankind. In order to this end, men in all ages have voluntarily submitted themselves to prolonged infelicity. They have toiled3 in daily pain and sorrow throughout a long life to attain2 at last, if possible, to the coveted4 condition. Some have pursued it in eager intensity5, dancing and singing as they went. Others have rushed after it in mad determination, cursing and grumbling6 as they ran. Many have sought it in rapt contemplation of the Sublime7 and Beautiful. Thousands have grubbed and grovelled8 for it in the gratification or the drowning of the senses, while not a few have sought and found it in simple, loving submission9 to their Maker’s will, as made known by Conscience and Revelation.
Of all the varied10 methods, John Gunter, the fisherman, preferred the grub-and-grovelling11 method, and the favourite scene of his grovelling was a low grog-shop in one of the lower parts of Yarmouth.
It must be said, at this point, that Gunter was not considered by his mates as a regular out-and-out fisherman. He had never served his apprenticeship12, but, being a powerful and sufficiently13 active seaman14, was tolerated among them.
It is said that adversity makes strange bed-fellows. It is not less true that strong drink makes strange companions. Gunter’s shipmates having had more than enough of him on the sea were only too glad to get clear of him when on land. He therefore found himself obliged to look out for new companionships, for it is certain that man yearns15 after sympathy of some sort, and is not, under ordinary circumstances, content to be alone.
The new friends he sought were not difficult to find. In one of the darkest corners of the public-house referred to he found them—an accidental, group—consisting of an ex-clerk, an ex-parson, and a burglar, not “ex” as yet! They had met for the first time, yet, though widely separated as regards their training in life, they had found the sympathetic level of drink in that dingy16 corner. Of course, it need hardly be said that the first two had swung far out of their proper orbits before coming into harmonious17 contact with the last. Of course, also, no one of the three desired that his antecedents should be known. There was not much chance, indeed, that the former occupations of the clerk or the parson would be guessed at, for every scrap18 of respectability had long ago been washed out of them by drink, and their greasy19 coats, battered20 hats, dirty and ragged21 linen22, were, if possible, lower in the scale of disreputability than the rough garments of the burglar.
The subject of their conversation was suitable to all ages and countries, to all kinds and conditions of men, for it was politics! A fine, healthy, flexible subject, so utterly23 incomprehensible to fuddled brains that it could be distended24, contracted, inflated25, elongated26, and twisted to suit any circumstances or states of mind. And such grand scope too, for difference, or agreement of opinion.
Oh! it was pitiful to see the idiotic27 expressions of these fallen men as they sat bound together by a mutual28 thirst which each abhorred29, yet loved, and which none could shake off. And there was something outrageously30 absurd too—yes, it is of no use attempting to shirk the fact—something intolerably funny in some of the gestures and tones with which they discussed the affairs of the nation.
“Hail fellow well met,” was the generous tendency of Gunter’s soul when ashore31. Accosting32 the three in gruff off-hand tones with some such sentiment, he sat down beside them.
“Same to you, pal,” said the burglar, with a sinister33 glance at the new-comer from under his heavy brows.
“How do? ol’ salt!” exclaimed the clerk, who was by far the most tipsy of the three. “Come ’ere. We’ll make you r’free—umpire—to shettle zish d’shpute. Queshn is, whether it’s the dooty of the poor to help the rish—no, zhat’s not it. W–w’ether it’s dooty of rish to help the poor—what’s it—by sharin’ all they have with ’em or—”
“That’s not the question at all,” cried Gunter, gruffly—“the question is, what’ll you have to drink!”
“Bravo!” exclaimed the parson, “that is the question!”
“You’re a trump34!” said the burglar.
“Well,” exclaimed the clerk, with a tremendous assumption of winking-dignity, “ishn’t zhat zactly what I was goin’ to shay, if you’d on’y listen. ‘What’ll you ’ave to drink!’ jus’ so. Now, if you want to argue it out properly, you’ll—”
He was checked and almost floored by a tremendous though facetious35 slap on the back from Gunter, who said that they wouldn’t argue it out; that they would drink it out first and argue it out afterwards.
In pursuance of this plan he called the landlord, and, ordering spirits and water, treated the assembled company all round—including a few bloated and wretched women, some of whom carried children in their arms.
Whatever of the ludicrous might have struck an observer of the scene, while listening to the above conversation, it would have been all put to flight by the sight of these poor women, and perchance by the thought that they had been brought up to that life; had never known better, and would never have a chance of knowing better, unless some exceptional rays of heavenly light should penetrate36 the dark region in which they lived. Praise be to God! such rays do visit such haunts at times, and brands are often plucked from the fire, but with these we have nothing to do at present. Our object just now is to trace the course of John Gunter.
You may be sure that one who spent his money so freely, and at the same time drank heavily, was not likely to escape the special attention of his new friend, the burglar. That worthy37, besides being an expert in the heavier branches of his art, was not unacquainted with its lighter38 work. He watched the fisherman narrowly, observed in which pocket he kept his money, waited until he was sufficiently drunk for his purpose, and then picked his pockets at an engrossing39 moment, when the clerk was unfolding a perfect scheme of national reform to the parson, who, with eyes shut, and supposed to be listening intently, was in reality fast asleep.
His object accomplished40, the burglar said he would go out, and have a look at the weather, which he did, and having quietly hidden his spoils he returned to report the weather “all right,” and to make quite sure that he had left nothing whatever in any of Gunter’s pockets. Having satisfied himself on this point he was about to retire to take a final look at the weather when Gunter said—“Hold on, mate; ’ave another glass.”
He felt in his pocket for the wherewith to pay for the drink, and missed his money. He was by no means as drunk as he appeared to be, and at once suspected his comrade.
“You’ve stole my blunt!” he shouted, without a moment’s hesitation41.
“You’re a liar,” returned the burglar, promptly42. Gunter was fierce by nature. He made no rejoinder, but struck a blow at the other which would have felled him had it taken effect. The burglar, however, was a pugilist. He evaded43 the blow, and returned it with such force that the fisherman staggered, but recovered himself, and grappled with his adversary44.
In a moment all was uproar45 and confusion; benches were upset, spittoons kicked about, and pipes smashed, as the two powerful men swayed about, and tried fiercely to strangle each other. The women rushed screaming from the place; the landlord and his assistants interfered46, but it was not until the police were called in that the combatants were separated. Then there occurred a violent scene of explanation, allegation, recrimination, and retort, during which the guardians47 of the peace attempted to throw oil on the troubled waters, for it is always their aim, we believe, to quiet down drunken uproars48 when possible rather than to take up the rioters.
As the burglar, with an injured, innocent look, denied the charge made against him, and turned all his pockets inside out in proof of his veracity49, Gunter was fain to content himself with the supposition that he had lost his money in some incomprehensible manner.
In a very sulky mood he flung out of the public-house and sauntered away. He knew not where to go, for he had no friends in Yarmouth—at least none who would have welcomed him—and he had not wherewith to pay for a bed, even in the poorest lodging50.
As he walked along, conscience began to smite51 him, but he was in no mood to listen to conscience. He silenced it, and at the same time called himself, with an oath, a big fool. There is no question that he was right, yet he would have denied the fact and fought any one else who should have ventured so to address him.
The evening was beginning to grow dark as he turned down one of the narrow and lonely rows.
Now, it so happened that this was one of the rows through which Ruth Dotropy had to pass on her way home.
Ruth was not naturally timid, but when she suddenly beheld53 a half-drunken man coming towards her, and observed that no one else was near, something like a flutter of anxiety agitated54 her breast. At the same moment something like a sledge-hammer blow smote55 the concave side of John Gunter’s bosom56.
“She’s got more than she needs,” he growled57 between his teeth, “an’ I’ve got nothin’!”
As his conscience had been silenced this was a sufficient argument for John.
“I’ll thank you for a shillin’, Miss,” he said, confronting the now frightened girl after a hasty glance round.
“Oh! yes, yes—willingly,” gasped58 poor Ruth, fumbling60 in her pocket for her purse. The purse, however, chanced to have been left at home. “Oh, how provoking! I have not my purse with me, but if these few pence will—”
“Never mind the pence, Miss,” said Gunter,—accepting the pence; however, as he spoke—“that nice little watch will do jist as well.”
He snatched the watch which hung at Ruth’s waist-belt, snapped the slender guard that held it, and made off.
When sufficiently out of danger of pursuit, he paused under a lamp to examine his prize. To his intense disgust he found that the little watch, instead of being a gold one, as he had expected, was only a silver one, of comparatively little value.
“Well, your first haul in this line ain’t worth much,” he grumbled61. “Hows’ever, I’ve got coppers62 enough for a night’s lodgin’ an’ grub.”
Saying which he pocketed the watch, and went on his way.
Meanwhile Ruth, having given vent52 to a sob63 of relief when the man left her, ran towards home as fast as she could, never pausing till she reached the Miss Seawards’ door, which chanced to be a little nearer than her own. Against this she plunged64 with wonderful violence for one so gentle and tender, and then hammered it with her knuckles65 in a way that would have done credit to a lightweight prize-fighter.
The door was opened hastily by Liffie Lee, who, being a much lighter weight than her assailant, went down before her rush.
“Lawk! Miss Ruth,” she exclaimed, on recovering her feet, “w’at’s a-’appened?”
But she asked the question of the empty air, for Ruth was already half sobbing66, half laughing on the sofa, with a highly agitated sister on either side trying to calm her.
“Oh! what a little donkey I am,” she exclaimed, flinging off her bonnet67 and attempting to laugh.
“What has happened?” gasped Jessie.
“Do tell us, dear,” cried Kate.
“I—I’ve been robbed, by a—dreadful man—so awfully68 gruff, a sailor I think, and—oh!” Ruth became suddenly much calmer. “It did not occur to me till this moment—it is the watch—papa’s little silver watch that Captain Bream brought him as a sort of curiosity from abroad long ago. Oh! I am so sorry! It was such a favourite with dear papa, and he told me to take such care of it when he gave it to me, for there was a romantic little history connected with it.”
“What was it, dear?” asked Jessie, glad to find that the sudden diversion of her thoughts to the lost watch had done more to calm Ruth than all their demonstrative comfort.
Ruth at once proceeded to relate the story of the watch, but we will not inflict69 it on the reader, as it has no particular bearing on our tale. It had something to do, however, with detaining Ruth far later than she had intended to remain, so that she jumped up hastily at last, saying she must really go home.
“Are you sure the robber was a sailor?” asked Kate; “sailors are such dear nice men that I can hardly believe it.”
“I’m almost quite sure,” returned Ruth; “at all events he was dressed like one—and, oh! he was so gruff!”
From this point Ruth diverged70 into further and more minute details of the robbery, over which the three gloated with a species of fascination71 which is more frequently associated with ghost stories than true tales. Indeed we may say that four gloated over it, for Liffie Lee, unable to restrain her curiosity, put her head in at the door—at first with the more or less honest intention of asking if “hany think was wanted,” and afterwards let her head remain from sheer inability to withdraw it.
At one point in the thrilling narrative72 she became intensely excited, and when Ruth tried in sepulchral73 tones to imitate John Gunter’s gruff voice, she exclaimed, “Oh! lawks!” in such a gasp59 that the three ladies leaped up with three shrieks74 like three conscience-smitten kittens caught in a guilty act! Liffie was rebuked76, but from pity, or perhaps sympathy, was allowed to remain to hear the end.
When that point was reached, it was found to be so late that the streets were almost deserted77, and the particular part in which their lodging stood was dreadfully silent.
“How am I ever to get home?” asked Ruth.
“It is not more than twenty doors off,” said Kate, “and Liffie will go with you.”
“Lawks, ma’am,” said Liffie, “what could the likes o’ me do if we was attacked? An’ then—I should ’ave to return alone!”
“That is true,” said the tender-hearted Jessie; “what is to be done? Our landlady78 goes to bed early. It would never do to rouse her—and then, she may perhaps be as great a coward as we are. Oh! if there was only a man in the house. Even a boy would do.”
“Ah! I jist think ’e would,” said Liffie. “If little Billy was ’ere, I wouldn’t ax for no man.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Kate with a bright look of decision, “we’ll all go together. Get on your bonnet, Jessie.”
There was no resisting Kate when once she had made up her mind. She put on her own bonnet, and her sister quickly returned ready, “with a heart,” as Byron says, “for any fate?”
“Now don’t speak, any of you,” whispered Kate. “If we are attacked, let us give a united shriek75. That will raise some one to our aid.”
“I should think it would, ma’am. It would a’most raise the dead,” said Liffie, who also prepared herself for the ordeal79.
Dark and deserted streets at late hours, with dangerous characters known to be abroad, have terrors to some small extent, even for the averagely brave; what must they have, then, for those tender ones of the weaker sex whose spirits are gentle, perhaps timid, and whose nerves have been highly strung by much converse80 on subjects relating to violence?
The first shock experienced by our quartette was caused by the door. From some inscrutable impulse Liffie Lee had locked it after Ruth had rushed in.
“Open it gently,” whispered Jessie, for the party had now got to the condition of feeling very much as if they were themselves burglars, engaged in some unholy enterprise, and feared to arouse sleepers81. But they need not have feared, for their landlady was one of the “seven sleepers” of Yarmouth.
Liffie exerted her little strength with caution, but the lock was stiff; it would not move. She screwed up her mouth, and put-to more strength; still it would not move. Screwing up her eyebrows82 as well as her mouth, she tried again. It would not budge83. She even screwed up her nose in a stupendous effort, but all in vain. If there had been no need for caution, the thing would have been easy, but Jessie kept whispering, “Softly, Liffie, softly!” and Ruth echoed “Softly!” At last Liffie screwed herself up entirely84, body and soul, in one supreme85 effort; she agonised with the key. It yielded, and the bolt flew back with a crack like a pistol-shot.
“Oh!” burst in four different keys—not door-keys—from the party—under their breath however.
“Open,” whispered Jessie.
Liffie obeyed, and when the half-opened door revealed intense darkness outside, a feeling of horror caused their very flesh to creep.
“How I wish I hadn’t stayed! I’ll never do it again!” whispered poor Ruth in the tones of a child about to be punished.
“What’s that!” exclaimed Jessie, with a start that caused Ruth almost to shriek.
“Cats!” said Liffie Lee.
“Impossible!” said Kate.
But it was not impossible, for there, in a corner not far off, were dimly seen two intensely black objects, with backs and tails arranged on the moorish-arch principle, and a species of low thunder issuing from them, suggestive of dynamite86 in the stomach.
Relieved to find it was nothing worse, the party emerged into the street. The cats were too much enraged87 and engaged with each other to observe them. They, like the ladies, were evidently cowards, for they continued to threaten without attacking.
Liffie was left on guard with strict injunctions to stand inside, hold tight to the door-handle, let in the returning sisters, and then slam the door in the face of all the world beside.
A run was now made for the Dotropy residence. We could not call it a rush, for the three ladies were too light and elegant in form to proceed in such a manner. They tripped it—if we may say so—on light fantastic toe, though with something of unseemly haste. Ruth being young and active reached the door first, and, as before, went with a rebounding88 bang against it. The anxious Mrs Dotropy had been for some time on the watch. She opened the door.
“Ruth!”
“Mamma!”
“Your daughter!” exclaimed the Miss Seawards in needless explanation, as they pushed her in, and then, turning round, fled homeward with so much noise that the attention of a night watchman was naturally attracted. The sisters heard his approaching foot-falls. They put on, in sporting language, a spurt89. Just as the door was reached the two cats, becoming suddenly brave, filled the night-air with yells as of infants in agony. An irrepressible shriek burst from the sisters as they tripped over each other into the passage, and the faithful Liffie slammed the door in the face of the discomfited90 policeman.
It was a crucial test of friendship, and the Miss Seawards came to the conclusion that night, before retiring to rest, that nothing on earth would ever induce them to do it again.
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1
attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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4
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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yearns
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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distended
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| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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outrageously
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| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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accosting
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的现在分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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uproars
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| 吵闹，喧嚣，骚乱( uproar的名词复数 ) | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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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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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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diverged
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| 分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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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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rebounding
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| 蹦跳运动 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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