Chapter 9

He looked up at Bogs, smiling that little smile of his, old Ernie said, as if the three of them had been discussing stocks and bonds with him instead of throwing it to him just as hard as they could. Just as if he was wearing one of his three-piece bankers' suits instead of kneeling on a dirty broom-closet floor with his pants around his ankles and blood trickling down the insides of his thighs.
'In fact,' he went on, 'I understand that the bite-reflex is sometimes so strong that the victim's jaws have to be pried open with a crowbar or a jackhandle.'
Bogs didn't put anything in Andy's mouth that night in late February of 1948, and neither did Rooster MacBride, and so far as I know, no one else ever did, either. What the three of them did was to beat Andy within an inch of his life, and all four of them ended up doing a jolt in solitary. Andy and Rooster MacBride went by way of the infirmary.
How many times did that particular crew have at him? I don't know. I think Rooster lost his taste fairly early on -being in nose-splints for a month can do that to a fellow -and Bogs Diamond left off that summer, all at once.
That was a strange thing. Bogs was found in his cell, badly beaten, one morning in early June, when he didn't show up in the breakfast nose-count. He wouldn't say who had done it, or how they had gotten to him, but being in my business, I know that a screw can be bribed to do almost anything accept get a gun for an inmate. They didn't make big salaries then, and they don't now. And in those days there was no electronic locking system, no closed-circuit TV, no master-switches which controlled whole areas of the prison. Back in 1948, each cellblock had its own turnkey. A guard could have been bribed real easy to let someone - maybe two or three someones - into the block, and, yes, even into Diamond's cell.
Of course a job like that would have cost a lot of money. Not by outside standards, no. Prison economics are on a smaller scale. When you've been in here a while, a dollar bill in your hand looks like a twenty did outside. My guess is, that if Bogs was done, it cost someone a serious piece of change - fifteen bucks, well say, for the turnkey, and two or store apiece for each of the lump-up guys.
I'm not saying it was Andy Dufresne, but I do know that he brought in five hundred dollars when he came, and he was a banker in the straight world - a man who understands better than the rest of us the ways in which money can become power.
And I know this: After the beating - the three broken ribs, the haemorrhaged eye, the sprained back and the dislocated hip - Bogs Diamond left Andy alone. In fact, after that he left everyone pretty much alone. He got to be like a high wind in the summertime, all bluster and no bite. You could say, in fact, that he turned into a 'weak sister'.
That was the end of Bogs Diamond, a man who might eventually have killed Andy if Andy hadn't taken steps to prevent it (if it was him who took the steps). But it wasn't the end of Andy's trouble with the sisters. There was a little hiatus, and then it began again, although not so hard nor so often. Jackals like easy prey, and there were easier pickings around than Andy Dufresne.
He always fought them, that's what I remember. He knew, I guess, that if you let them have at you even once, without fighting it, it got that much easier to let them have their way without fighting next time. So Andy would turn up with bruises on his face every once in a while, and there was the matter of the two broken fingers six or eight months after Diamond's beating. Oh yes - and sometime in late 1949, the man landed in the infirmary with a broken cheekbone that was probably the result of someone swinging a nice chunk of pipe with the business-end wrapped in flannel. He always fought back, and as a result, he did his time in solitary. But don't think solitary was the hardship for Andy that it was for some men. He got along with himself.
The sisters was something he adjusted himself to - and then, in 1950, it stopped almost completely. That is a part of my story that 111 get to in due time.
In the fall of 1948, Andy met me one morning in the exercise yard and asked me if I could get him half a dozen rock-blankets.
'What the hell are those?' I asked.
He told me that was just what rockhounds called them; they were polishing cloths about the size of dishtowels. They were heavily padded, with a smooth side and a rough side -the smooth side like fine-grained sandpaper, the rough side almost as abrasive as industrial steel wool (Andy also kept a box of that in his cell, although he didn't get it from me - I imagine he kited it from the prison laundry).
I told him I thought we could do business on those, and I ended up getting them from the very same rock-and-gem shop where I'd arranged to get the rock-hammer. This time I charged Andy my usual ten per cent and not a penny more. I didn't see anything lethal or even dangerous in a dozen 7" x 7" squares of padded cloth. Rock-blankets, indeed.
It was about five months later that Andy asked if I could get him Rita Hayworth. That conversation took place in the auditorium, during a movie-show. Nowadays we get the movie-shows once or twice a week, but back then the shows were a monthly event. Usually the movies we got had a morally uplifting message to them, and this one, The Lost Weekend, was no different. The moral was that it's dangerous to drink. It was a moral we could take some comfort in.
Andy manoeuvred to get next to me, and about halfway through the show he leaned a little closer and asked if I could get him Rita Hayworth. I'll tell you the truth, it kind of tickled me. He was usually cool, calm, and collected, but that night he was jumpy as hell, almost embarrassed, as if he was asking me to get him a load of Trojans or one of those sheepskin-lined gadgets that are supposed to 'enhance your solitary pleasure,' as the magazines put it. He seemed overcharged, a man on the verge of blowing his radiator.
'I can get her,' I said. 'No sweat, calm down. You want the big one or the little one?' At that time Rita was my best girl (a few years before it had been Betty Grable) and she came in two sizes. For a buck you could get the little Rita. For two-fifty you could have the big Rita, four feet high and all woman.
'The big one,' he said, not looking at me. I tell you, he was a hot sketch that night. He was blushing just like a kid trying to get into a kootch show with his big brother's draft-card. 'Can you do it?'

　　安迪抬头看着博格斯，脸上带着惯有的微笑，厄尼描述，仿佛他们三个人只是在和他讨论股票和债券，仿佛他还像在银行上班一样，身上穿着三件头西装，而不是跪在洗衣房的脏地板上，裤子褪到脚踝处，大腿间流下一滴滴鲜血。
　　“事实上，”他还继续说，“我只知道，这种用力咬下去的反射动作有时候太激烈了，事后你得用铁锹或钻子才有办法把他的下巴撬开。”
　　结果，一九四八年二月的那个晚上，博格斯没敢放任何东西到安迪嘴巴里，卢斯特也没有，就我所知，以后也没有任何人敢这么做。他们三个人结结实实把安迪打了一顿，差那么一点点就把他打死；而四个人都关了一阵子禁闭。安迪和卢斯特还先被送到监狱的医务室疗伤。
　　这些家伙找过他几次麻烦？我不知道。我想卢斯特很早便对他失去兴趣了，足足有一个月的时间都得用夹板固定鼻梁，会让一个人倒足胃口。那年夏天，博格斯也停止找他麻烦了。
　　那是一件怪事。六月初的一个早上，博格斯没出来吃早饭，他们发现他被打得半死，奄奄一息地躺在牢房中。他没说是谁干的，或是怎么发生的，但是干我这一行，我很清楚你几乎可以买通监狱警卫去做任何事情，只要不是要他们为囚犯带枪进来就好。那时他们的薪水不高，就是现在也不高，而且当时没有电动门锁，没有闭路电视或中央系统可以监控整个监狱。在一九四八年，每个囚区都有单独的门禁和警卫，贿赂警卫让两、三个人混进来很容易，是啊，甚至进到博格斯的牢房中，都有可能。
　　当然这样做需要花掉不少钱，不是依照外面的水准，不，监狱里属于小规模经济，你进来一段时间就会发现，手上有张一块钱钞票，就跟外面的二十元一样管用。我猜如果博格斯是这样被暗算的，那么某人可花了不少钱，可能给警卫十五块钱，几个打手则一人两、三块钱。
　　我并不是说这件事一定是安迪干的，不过我知道他带了五百元进来。他进来前在银行工作，对于金钱能够发挥的力量，他比我们任何人都更清楚。
　　我只知道：自从这次挨打以后——博格斯断了三根肋骨、眼睛出血、背部拉伤加上股骨脱臼，他不再找安迪的麻烦了，事实上，他再也不找任何人麻烦了。他就好像夏天刮大风一样，虽然狂吹着，却都是虚张声势。你可以说，他变成一个“软弱”的姊妹。
　　博格斯的故事就此结束，原本他很可能杀了安迪，如果安迪没有采取任何行动来防备的话。但这并不意味着其他姊妹也不再找他麻烦，偶尔他们还是会趁他不备，乘虚而入，但次数不多。毕竟胡狼还是比较喜欢容易上手的猎物，而在肖申克，比安迪容易上手的猎物多的是。
　　不过，我记得安迪每次都奋力抵抗。我猜，他知道只要有一次让他们容易上手，以后便永无宁日。因此安迪脸上偶尔会挂彩，在博格斯被打约六或八个月后，他还断了两根指头。对了，在一九四九年末，他还曾经因为脸颊骨断裂而到医务室就诊，看来有人用布将铁管子包起来，用力往他脸上挥打。他总是反击，因此经常被单独监禁。我想关禁闭对他而言并不苦，不像其他人那么受不了，他一点也不害怕独处。
　　他勉强适应着和姊妹们周旋——但到了一九五〇年，这种事几乎完全停止了。等一下我会详细讲述这部分。
　　一九四八年秋天，有一天早上，安迪在运动场上跟我见面，问我能不能替他弄到一打磨石布。
　　“那是什么鬼玩意？”我问道。
　　他告诉我那是石头迷的术语，是跟擦碗布差不多大小的布，用来磨亮石头。磨石布厚厚的，一面粗糙，一面光滑，光滑的一面像砂纸，粗糙的一面则像工业用的钢丝绒（安迪的牢房里也有一盒钢丝绒，却不是我帮他弄到的，我猜他是从洗衣房里偷来的）。
　　我跟他说这宗生意没问题，替他从同一家岩石和玉石店弄到了他要的东西。这次我只抽百分之十的服务费，没多要他一分，因为我认为这种长七英寸、宽七英寸的正方形布垫没啥危险。磨石布，真是的。
　　五个月后，安迪问我能否替他把丽塔·海华丝给弄来。我们这次是借着礼堂放映电影的时候谈生意。现在我们一周可以看一两次电影，以前一个月才看一次，通常放映的电影都含有浓厚的道德启示，那次放映的电影《失去的周末》也不例外，警告我们喝酒是很危险的。这样的道德教训倒是令身陷囹圄的我们感到有点安慰。
　　安迪想办法坐到我旁边来，电影放到一半时，他挨近我，问我是否能给他弄到丽塔·海华丝。说实话，我真想笑。他一向表现得很冷静，而且一板一眼，但那天晚上他坐立不安，十分难为情，好像在跟我要保险套似的。他好像充足了电，随时要爆发一样。
　　“可以呀，”我说，“别紧张，冷静点，你要大张的还是小张的？”当时丽塔是我最喜欢的电影明星（几年前则是贝蒂·葛兰宝），当时丽塔·海华丝的海报有两种尺寸。花一块钱的话，可以弄个小张的，二块五毛钱则可以弄到大张的，四英尺高，女人味十足。
　　“大张的，”他说，没看我。那晚他真是害臊得厉害，脸红得像个想偷拿哥哥身份证去看香艳秀的孩子，“你有办法弄到吗？”