While his mother was hunting for him in Portsmouth, Miles Milton was cleaving1 his way through the watery2 highway of the world, at the rate of fifteen knots.
He was at the time in that lowest condition of misery3, mental and physical, which is not unfrequently the result of “a chopping sea in the Channel.” It seemed to him, just then, an unbelievable mystery how he could, at any time, have experienced pleasure at the contemplation of food! The heaving of the great white ship was nothing to the heaving—well, it may perhaps be wiser to refrain from particulars; but he felt that the beating of the two thousand horse-power engines—more or less—was child’s-play to the throbbing4 of his brain!
“And this,” he thought, in the bitterness of his soul, “this is what I have sacrificed home, friends, position, prospects7 in life for! This is—soldiering!”
The merest shadow of the power to reason—if such a shadow had been left—might have convinced him that that was not soldiering; that, as far as it went, it was not even sailoring!
“You’re very bad, I fear,” remarked a gentle voice at the side of his hammock.
“Who told you I was bad?” asked Miles savagely9, putting a wrong—but too true—interpretation on the word.
“The colour of your cheeks tells me, poor fellow!”
“Bah!” exclaimed Miles. He was too sick to say more. He might have said less with advantage.
“Shall I fetch you some soup?” asked Moses, in the kindness of his heart. Moses, you see, was one of those lucky individuals who are born with an incapacity to be sick at sea, and was utterly10 ignorant of the cruelty he perpetrated. “Or some lobscouse?” he added.
“A basin of—”
“Strange,” thought that healthy soldier, as he stalked away on further errands of mercy, stooping as he went to avoid beams—“strange that Miles is so changeable in character. I had come to think him a steady, reliable sort of chap.”
Puzzling over this difficulty, he advanced to the side of another hammock, from which heavy groans15 were issuing.
“Are you very bad, corporal?” he asked in his usual tone of sympathy.
“Bad is it?” said Flynn. “Och! it’s worse nor bad I am! Couldn’t ye ax the captin to heave-to for a—”
The suggestive influence of heaving-to was too much for Flynn. He pulled up dead. After a few moments he groaned—
“Arrah! be off, Moses, av ye don’t want my fist on yer nose.”
“Extraordinary!” murmured the kindly16 man, as he removed to another hammock, the occupant of which was differently constituted.
“Moses,” he said, as the visitant approached.
“Yes, Gaspard,” was the eager reply, “can I do anything for you?”
“Yes; if you’d go on deck, refresh yourself with a walk, and leave us all alone, you’ll con—fer—on—”
Gaspard ceased to speak; he had already spoken too much; and Moses Pyne, still wondering, quietly took his advice.
But if the Channel was bad, the Bay of Biscay was, according to Flynn, “far badder.”
Before reaching that celebrated19 bay, however, most of the men had recovered, and, with more or less lugubrious20 aspects and yellow-green complexions21, were staggering about, attending to their various duties. No doubt their movements about the vessel22 were for some time characterised by that disagreement between action and will which is sometimes observed in feeble chickens during a high wind, but, on the whole, activity and cheerfulness soon began to re-animate the frames and spirits of Britain’s warriors23.
And now Miles Milton began to find out, as well as to fix, in some degree, his natural character. Up to this period in his life, a mild existence in a quiet home, under a fairly good though irascible father and a loving Christian24 mother, had not afforded him much opportunity of discovering what he was made of. Recent events had taught him pretty sharply that there was much room for improvement. He also discovered that he possessed25 a very determined26 will in the carrying out of his intentions, especially when those intentions were based upon his desires. Whether he would be equally resolute27 in carrying out intentions that did not harmonise with his desires remained to be seen.
His mother, among her other teachings, had often tried to impress on his young mind the difference between obstinacy28 and firmness.
“My boy,” she was wont29 to say, while smoothing his curly head, “don’t mistake obstinacy for firmness. A man who says ‘I will do this or that in spite of all the world,’ against advice, and simply because he wants to do it, is obstinate30. A man who says, ‘I will do this or that in spite of all the world,’ against advice, against his own desires, and simply because it is the right thing to do, is firm.”
Remembering this, and repenting31 bitterly his having so cruelly forsaken33 his mother, our hero cast about in his mind how best he could put some of her precepts34 into practice, as being the only consolation35 that was now possible to him. You see, the good seed sown in those early days was beginning to spring up in unlikely circumstances. Of course the habit of prayer, and reading a few verses from the Bible night and morning, recurred36 to him. This had been given up since he left home. He now resumed it, though, for convenience, he prayed while stretched in his hammock!
But this did not satisfy him. He must needs undertake some disagreeable work, and carry it out with that degree of obstinacy which would amount to firmness. After mature consideration, he sought and obtained permission to become one of the two cooks to his mess. Moses Pyne was the other.
Nothing, he felt, could be more alien to his nature, more disgusting in every way to his feelings—and he was right. His dislike to the duties seemed rather to increase than to diminish day by day. Bitterly did he repent32 of having undertaken the duty, and earnestly did he consider whether there might not be some possible and honourable37 way of drawing back, but he discovered none; and soon he proved—to himself as well as to others—that he did indeed possess, at least in some degree, firmness of character.
The duties that devolved on him were trying. He had to scrub and keep the mess clean and tidy; to draw all the provisions and prepare them for cooking; then, to take them to the galley38, and fetch them when cooked. That this last was no simple matter, such as any shore-going tail-coated waiter might undertake, was brought forcibly out one day during what seamen39 style dirty weather.
It was raining at the time. The sea was grey, the sky was greyer, and as the steamer itself was whitey-grey, it was a grave business altogether.
“Is the soup ready, Moses?” asked Miles, as he ascended40 towards the deck and met his confrère coming down.
“I don’t know. Shall I go an’ see?”
“No; you can go and look after the table. I will fetch the soup.”
“A nasty sea on,” remarked a voice, which sounded familiar in Miles’s ears as he stepped on deck.
“Hallo! Jack41 Molloy!” he exclaimed, catching42 hold of a stanchion to steady himself, as a tremendous roll of the vessel caused a sea to flash over the side and send a shower-bath in his face. “What part of the sky did you drop from? I thought I had left you snug43 in the Sailors’ Welcome.”
“Werry likely you did, John Miles,” answered the tar44, balancing himself with perfect ease, and caring no more for spray than if he had been a dolphin; “but I’m here for all that—one o’ the crew o’ this here transport, though I means to wolunteer for active sarvice when I gets out. An’ no wonder we didn’t come across each other sooner! In sitch a enormous tubful o’ lobsters45, etceterer, it’s a wonder we’ve met at all. An’ p’r’aps you’ve bin5 a good deal under hatches since you come a-boord?”
Molloy said this with a knowing look and a grin. Miles met the remark in a similar spirit.
“You looks like it, Miles, judgin’ by the colour o’ your jib. Where away now?”
“Going for our soup.”
“What! made you cook o’ the mess?”
“Ay; don’t you wish you were me?”
Another roll and flash of spray ended the conversation and separated the friends.
The pea-soup was ready when our hero reached the galley. Having filled the mess-tureen with the appetising mixture, he commenced the return journey with great care, for he was now dependent entirely47 on his legs, both hands being engaged. Miles was handy, if we may say so, with his legs. Once or twice he had to rush and thrust a shoulder against the bulwarks48, and a dash of spray served for salt to the soup; but he was progressing favourably49 and had traversed full three-quarters of the distance to the hatch when a loud “Hooroo!” caused him to look round smartly.
He had just time to see Corporal Flynn, who had slipped and fallen, come rolling towards him like a sack of flour. Next moment he was swept off his legs, and went into the lee scuppers with his comrade in a bath of pea-soup and salt-water!
Fortunately, the obliging wave which came in-board at the same moment mingled50 with the soup, and saved both men from a scalding.
Besides the duties already mentioned, our hero had to wash up all the dishes and other things at meal-hours; to polish up the mess-kettles and tin dishes; and, generally, to put things away in their places, and keep things in apple-pie order. Recollecting52 another of his mother’s teachings—“Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well”—he tried his best, and was so ably seconded by the amiable53 Moses, that the Miles-Moses mess came to be at last regarded as the best-kept one on board.
One morning, after clearing up the dishes and putting things in order, Miles went on deck for a little fresh air. On the way up he met an elderly gentleman whose dress proclaimed him a clergyman.
He looked earnestly at our hero, and, nodding kindly, spoke17 a few words to him in passing. Miles had been aware that there was a clergyman on board going out to Egypt with his family—whether in connection with the troops or for health he did not know. He was much impressed with the looks and expression of this man. It seemed to him as if there were some sort of attractive power about him which was unaccountably strong, and he felt quite interested in the prospect6 of hearing him preach on the following Sunday.
While on deck the previous day, he had seen the figures of two ladies, whom he rightly judged to be the family above referred to, but as there was nearly the whole distance of the ship’s length between them, he could not distinguish their faces.
On taking his place when Sunday came, he observed that the family were present, seated, however, in such a position that he could only see their backs. Speculating in a listless way as to what sort of faces they had, he whiled away the few minutes before the service began.
He was recalled from this condition by the tones of the clergyman’s voice, which seemed to have the same effect on him as his look and manner had the day they first met. During the sermon Miles’s attention was riveted54, insomuch that he almost forgot where he was. The text was a familiar one—“God is Love,”—but the treatment of it seemed entirely new: the boundless55 nature of that love; its incomprehensible and almighty56 force; its enduring certainty and its overwhelming immensity, embracing, as it did, the whole universe in Christ, were themes on which the preacher expatiated57 in a way that Miles had never before dreamed of.
“All subordinate love,” said the preacher, in concluding, “has its source in this. No wonder, then, that it is spoken of in Scripture58 as a love ‘which passeth knowledge.’”
When the men rose to leave, it could be easily seen that they were deeply impressed. As they went out slowly, Miles passed close to the place where the ladies sat. The slighter of the two was talking in a low tone to her companion, and the young soldier was struck with the wonderful resemblance in her tone to that of the preacher. He wondered if her face also resembled his in any degree, and glanced back, but the head was turned away.
“I like that parson. He has got brains,” remarked Sergeant59 Hardy60, as he walked along the deck with Sergeant Gilroy and Corporal Flynn.
“Sur’ an’ I like him too,” said the corporal, “for he’s got heart!”
“Heart and brains,” returned Gilroy: “a grand combination! What more could we want?”
“Don’t you think that tongue is also essential?” asked Miles. “But for the preacher’s eloquence61 his heart and brain would have worked in vain.”
“Come now, John Miles, don’t you be risin’ up into poethry. It’s not yer natur—though ye think it is. Besides, av a man’s heart an’ brains is all right, he can make good use of ’em widout much tongue. Me own notion is that it’s thim as hasn’t got much to spake of, aither of heart or brain, as is over-fond o’ waggin’ the tongue.”
“That’s so, Flynn. You’re a living example of the truth of your own opinion,” retorted Miles.
“Och! is it angered ye are at gittin’ the worst o’ the argiment?” rejoined the corporal. “Niver mind, boy, you’ll do better by and by—”
As Flynn descended62 the ladder while he spoke, the sense of what he said was lost, but the truth of his opinion still continued to receive illustration from the rumbling63 of his voice, until it was swallowed up in the depths of the vessel.
Next day our hero received a shock from which he never finally recovered!
Miles had occasion to go to the fore18 part of the ship on some culinary business, without his coat, and with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Arrived there, he found that the captain was taking the ladies round the ship to point out some of its interesting details. As Miles came up, the younger lady turned round so as to present her full face to him. It was then that poor Miles received the shock above referred to. At that moment a little boy with wings and a bow stepped right in front of the young lady and shot straight at Miles Milton! The arrow entered his heart, and he—no, he did not fall; true men in such circumstances never fall! They stand transfixed, sometimes, or stupefied. Thus stood Miles and stared. Yes, though naturally modest and polite, he stood and stared!
And small blame to him, as Flynn might have said, for before him stood his ideal of a fairy, an angel, a sylph—or anything beautiful that best suits your fancy, reader! Sunny hair, sunny eyes—earnest and inquiring eyes—sunny smiles, and eyebrows65 to match. Yes, she had eyebrows distinctly darker than her hair, and well-defined over a pair of large brown eyes.
Poor Miles was stricken, as we have said; but—would you believe it?—there were men there looking at that girl at that time who, to use their own phraseology, would not have accepted a dozen of her for the girls they had left behind them! One young fellow in particular murmured to himself as follows—“Yes, very well in her way, no doubt, but she couldn’t hold a candle to my Emmy!” Perhaps the most cutting remark of all—made mentally, of course—was that of Sergeant Grady, who, for reasons best known to himself, had left a wife, describable as a stout66 well-favoured girl of forty, behind him.
“In twenty years or so,” he thought, “she may perhaps be near as good-lookin’ as my Susy, but she’ll never come quite up to her—never!”
“Come this way, Mrs Drew,” said the captain. “I will show you the men’s quarters. Out of the way, my man!”
Flushing to the roots of his hair, Miles stepped hastily aside.
As he did so there was heard an awful rend67 of a sort that tests the temper of women! It was followed by a musical scream. The girl’s dress had caught on a block tackle.
Miles leaped forward and unhooked it. He was rewarded with a smiling “Thank you,” which was followed by a blush of confusion as Miss Drew’s mother exclaimed, “Oh! Marion—how could you?” by way of making things easier for her, no doubt!
“You did that, young man, about as smart as I could a’ done it myself,” growled68 a voice behind him.
The speaker was Jack Molloy, and a general titter followed Miles as he hurried away.
As we have said, the weather became much worse when the troop-ship drew near to the Bay of Biscay; and it soon became evident that they were not to cross that famous portion of the Atlantic without experiencing some of the violent action for which it is famed. But by that time most of the soldiers, according to Molloy, had got their sea-legs on, and rather enjoyed the tossing than otherwise.
“I do like this sort o’ thing,” said a beardless young fellow, as a number of the men sat on camp-stools, or stood on the weather-side of the deck, chatting together about past times and future prospects.
“Ha!” exclaimed a seaman69, who stood near them coiling up a rope; “hold on till you’ve got a taste o’ the Bay. This is a mill-pond to that. And you’ll have the chance to-night. If you don’t, I’m a Dutchman.”
“If I do, you’ll have a taste of it too, old salt-water, for we’re in the same boat,” retorted the young red-coat.
“True, but we ain’t in the same body;” returned the sailor. “I should just like to see your four-futt legs wobblin’ about in a nor’-west gale70. You’d sing another song.”
“Come, Macleod,” cried Moses Pyne, “tip us a Gaelic song.”
“Hoots, man, wull ye be wantin’ to be made sea-seek?—for that’s what’ll do it,” said the big Scotsman. “Na, na, let Gaspard sing us ‘The Bay o’ Biscay O!’ That’ll be mair appropriate.”
There was a general chorus of assent71 to this; and as Gaspard Redgrave was an obliging man, untroubled by false modesty72, he cleared his throat and began. His voice, being a really splendid one, attracted all the men who chanced to be within range of it: among others, Miles, who was passing at the moment with a bag of biscuits in one hand and a meat-can in the other. He leaned up against one of those funnels74 which send fresh air down to the stokers of steam-ships. He had listened only a few moments when Marion Drew glided75 amongst the men, and seemed to stand as if entranced with delight in front of him, steadying herself by a rope, for the vessel was pitching a good deal as well as rolling considerably76.
“As we lay, on that day,
In the Bay of Biscay O!”
At the close of the second verse the men were preparing to burst forth again when Miles observed an approaching billow which caused him to start in alarm. Although unused to the aspect of waves, he had an instinctive79 feeling that there was danger approaching. Voices of warning were promptly80 raised from different parts of the vessel, but already the loud chorus had begun and drowned every other sound. Miles dropped his biscuits and sprang towards Marion, who, with flashing eyes and parted lips, was gazing at Gaspard. He just reached her when the wave burst over the side, and, catching most of the men quite unprepared, swept them with terrible violence towards the lee-side of the deck.
Marion was standing81 directly in the line of this human cataract82, but Miles swung her deftly83 round into the lee of the funnel73, a handle of which she happily caught, and clung to it like a limpet.
Her preserver was not so fortunate. The edge of the cataract struck him, swept him off his legs, and hurled84 him with many comrades against the lee bulwarks, where he lay stunned85 and helpless in the swishing water.
Of course soldiers and sailors ran from all parts of the vessel to the rescue, and soon the injured men were carried below and attended to by the doctors; and, considering the nature of the accident, it was matter for surprise that the result was no worse than some pretty severe contusions and a few broken ribs86.
When Miles recovered consciousness, he found himself in his hammock, with considerable pain in various parts of his body, and the Reverend James Drew bending over him.
“You’re all right now, my fine fellow,” he said, in a low comforting voice. “No bones broken, so the doctors say. Only a little bruised87.”
“Tell me, sir,” said Miles, rousing himself, “is—is your daughter safe?”
“Yes, thanks be to God, and to your prompt assistance, she is none the worse—save the fright and a wetting.”
Miles sank back on his pillows with a feeling of profound satisfaction.
“Now, you must try to sleep if you can,” said the clergyman; “it will do you good.”
But Miles did not want anything to do him good. He was quite content to lie still and enjoy the simple fact that he had rescued Marion, perhaps from death—at all events from serious injury! As for pain—what was that to him? was he not a soldier—one whose profession requires him to suffer anything cheerfully in the discharge of duty! And was not love the highest duty?
On the strength of some such thoughts he forgot his pain and calmly went to sleep.
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cleaving
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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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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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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lanky
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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kindly
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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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fore
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celebrated
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lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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vessel
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warriors
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Christian
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possessed
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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wont
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obstinate
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repenting
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的现在分词 ) | |
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repent
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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precepts
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consolation
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recurred
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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lobsters
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| 龙虾( lobster的名词复数 )； 龙虾肉 | |
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Neptune
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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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48
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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50
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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51
mishaps
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| n.轻微的事故，小的意外( mishap的名词复数 ) | |
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52
recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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53
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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54
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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55
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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57
expatiated
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| v.详述，细说( expatiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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59
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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60
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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62
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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63
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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64
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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65
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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67
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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68
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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69
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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70
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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71
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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72
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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74
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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75
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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78
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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79
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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81
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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82
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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83
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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84
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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85
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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86
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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87
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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