Not another word about myself, dear children. This narrative6 doth already bristle7 with I’s, as though it were an Argus which is a flash of wit, though I doubt if ye will understand it. I set myself to tell ye the tale of the war in the West, and that tale ye have heard, nor will I be coaxed8 or cajoled into one word further. Ah! ye know well how garrulous9 the old man is, and that if you could but get to Flushing with him he would take ye to the wars of the Empire, to William’s Court, and to the second invasion of the West, which had a better outcome than the first. But not an inch further will I budge10. On to the green, ye young rogues11! Have ye not other limbs to exercise besides your ears, that ye should be so fond of squatting12 round grandad’s chair? If I am spared to next winter, and if the rheumatiz keeps away, it is like that I may take up once more the broken thread of my story.
Of the others I can only tell ye what I know. Some slipped out of my ken13 entirely14. Of others I have heard vague and incomplete accounts. The leaders of the insurrection got off much more lightly than their followers15, for they found that the passion of greed was even stronger than the passion of cruelty. Grey, Buyse, Wade16, and others bought themselves free at the price of all their possessions. Ferguson escaped. Monmouth was executed on Tower Hill, and showed in his last moments some faint traces of that spirit which spurted17 up now and again from his feeble nature, like the momentary18 flash of an expiring fire.
My father and my mother lived to see the Protestant religion regain19 its place once more, and to see England become the champion of the reformed faith upon the Continent. Three years later I found them in Havant much as I had left them, save that there were more silver hairs amongst the brown braided tresses of my mother, and that my father’s great shoulders were a trifle bowed and his brow furrowed20 with the lines of care. Hand in hand they passed onwards down life’s journey, the Puritan and the Church woman, and I have never despaired of the healing of religious feud21 in England since I have seen how easy it is for two folks to retain the strongest belief in their own creeds22, and yet to bear the heartiest23 love and respect for the professor of another. The days may come when the Church and the Chapel24 may be as a younger and an elder brother, each working to one end, and each joying in the other’s success. Let the contest between them be not with pike and pistol, not with court and prison; but let the strife25 be which shall lead the higher life, which shall take the broader view, which shall boast the happiest and best cared-for poor. Then their rivalry26 shall be not a curse, but a blessing27 to this land of England.
Reuben Lockarby was ill for many months, but when he at last recovered he found a pardon awaiting him through the interest of Major Ogilvy. After a time, when the troubles were all blown over, he married the daughter of Mayor Timewell, and he still lives in Taunton, a well-to-do and prosperous citizen. Thirty years ago there was a little Micah Lockarby, and now I am told that there is another, the son of the first, who promises to be as arrant28 a little Roundhead as ever marched to the tuck of drum.
Of Saxon I have heard more than once. So skilfully29 did he use his hold over the Duke of Beaufort, that he was appointed through his interest to the command of an expedition which had been sent to chastise30 the savages31 of Virginia, who had wrought32 great cruelties upon the settlers. There he did so out-ambush their ambushes33, and out-trick their most cunning warriors34, that he hath left a great name among them, and is still remembered there by an Indian word which signifieth ‘The long-legged wily one with the eye of a rat.’ Having at last driven the tribes far into the wilderness35 he was presented with a tract36 of country for his services, where he settled down. There he married, and spent the rest of his days in rearing tobacco and in teaching the principles of war to a long line of gaunt and slab-sided children. They tell me that a great nation of exceeding strength and of wondrous37 size promises some day to rise up on the other side of the water. If this should indeed come to pass, it may perhaps happen that these young Saxons or their children may have a hand in the building of it. God grant that they may never let their hearts harden to the little isle38 of the sea, which is and must ever be the cradle of their race.
Solomon Sprent married and lived for many years as happily as his friends could wish. I had a letter from him when I was abroad, in which he said that though his consort39 and he had started alone on the voyage of wedlock40, they were now accompanied by a jolly-boat and a gig. One winter’s night when the snow was on the ground he sent down for my father, who hurried up to his house. He found the old man sitting up in bed, with his flask41 of rumbo within reach, his tobacco-box beside him, and a great brown Bible balanced against his updrawn knees. He was breathing heavily, and was in sore distress42.
‘I’ve strained a plank43, and have nine feet in the well,’ said he. ‘It comes in quicker than I can put it out. In truth, friend, I have not been seaworthy this many a day, and it is time that I was condemned44 and broken up.’
My father shook his head sadly as he marked his dusky face and laboured breathing. ‘How of your soul?’ he asked.
‘Aye!’ said Solomon, ‘that’s a cargo45 that we carry under our hatches, though we can’t see it, and had no hand in the stowing of it. I’ve been overhauling46 the sailing orders here, and the ten articles of war, but I can’t find that I’ve gone so far out of my course that I may not hope to come into the channel again.’
‘Trust not in yourself, but in Christ,’ said my father.
‘He is the pilot, in course,’ replied the old seaman47. ‘When I had a pilot aboard o’ my ship, however, it was my way always to keep my own weather eye open, d’ye see, and so I’ll do now. The pilot don’t think none the worse of ye for it. So I’ll throw my own lead line, though I hear as how there are no soundings in the ocean of God’s mercy. Say, friend, d’ye think this very body, this same hull48 o’ mine, will rise again?’
‘So we are taught,’ my father answered.
‘I’d know it anywhere from the tattoo49 marks,’ said Solomon. ‘They was done when I was with Sir Christopher in the West Indies, and I’d be sorry to part with them. For myself, d’ye see, I’ve never borne ill-will to any one, not even to the Dutch lubbers, though I fought three wars wi’ them, and they carried off one of my spars, and be hanged to them! If I’ve let daylight into a few of them, d’ye see, it’s all in good part and by way of duty. I’ve drunk my share — enough to sweeten my bilge-water — but there are few that have seen me cranky in the upper rigging or refusing to answer to my helm. I never drew pay or prize-money that my mate in distress was not welcome to the half of it. As to the Polls, the less said the better. I’ve been a true consort to my Phoebe since she agreed to look to me for signals. Those are my papers, all clear and aboveboard. If I’m summoned aft this very night by the great Lord High Admiral of all, I ain’t afeared that He’ll clap me into the bilboes, for though I’m only a poor sailor man, I’ve got His promise in this here book, and I’m not afraid of His going back from it.’
My father sat with the old man for some hours and did all that he could to comfort and assist him, for it was clear that he was sinking rapidly. When he at last left him, with his faithful wife beside him, he grasped the brown but wasted hand which lay above the clothes.
‘I’ll see you again soon,’ he said.
‘Yes. In the latitude50 of heaven,’ replied the dying seaman. His foreboding was right, for in the early hours of the morning his wife, bending over him, saw a bright smile upon his tanned, weather-beaten face. Raising himself upon his pillow he touched his forelock, as is the habit of sailor-men, and so sank slowly and peacefully back into the long sleep which wakes when the night has ceased to be.
You will ask me doubtless what became of Hector Marot and of the strange shipload which had set sail from Poole Harbour. There was never a word heard of them again, unless indeed a story which was spread some months afterwards by Captain Elias Hopkins, of the Bristol ship Caroline, may be taken as bearing upon their fate. For Captain Hopkins relates that, being on his homeward voyage from our settlements, he chanced to meet with thick fogs and a head wind in the neighbourhood of the great cod51 banks. One night as he was beating about, with the weather so thick that he could scarce see the truck of his own mast, a most strange passage befell him. For as he and others stood upon the deck, they heard to their astonishment52 the sound of many voices joined in a great chorus, which was at first faint and distant, but which presently waxed and increased until it appeared to pass within a stone-throw of his vessel53, when it slowly died away once more and was lost in the distance. There were some among the crew who set the matter down as the doing of the evil one, but, as Captain Elias Hopkins was wont54 to remark, it was a strange thing that the foul55 fiend should choose West-country hymns56 for his nightly exercise, and stranger still that the dwellers57 in the pit should sing with a strong Somersetshire burr. For myself, I have little doubt that it was indeed the Dorothy Fox which had swept past in the fog, and that the prisoners, having won their freedom, were celebrating their delivery in true Puritan style. Whether they were driven on to the rocky coast of Labrador, or whether they found a home in some desolate58 land whence no kingly cruelty could harry59 them, is what must remain for ever unknown.
Zachariah Palmer lived for many years, a venerable and honoured old man, before he, too, was called to his fathers. A sweet and simple village philosopher he was, with a child’s heart in his aged60 breast. The very thought of him is to me as the smell of violets; for if in my views of life and in my hopes of the future I differ somewhat from the hard and gloomy teaching of my father, I know that I owe it to the wise words and kindly training of the carpenter. If, as he was himself wont to say, deeds are everything in this world and dogma is nothing, then his sinless, blameless life might be a pattern to you and to all. May the dust lie light upon him!
One word of another friend — the last mentioned, but not the least valued. When Dutch William had been ten years upon the English throne there was still to be seen in the field by my father’s house a tall, strong-boned horse, whose grey skin was flecked with dashes of white. And it was ever observed that, should the soldiers be passing from Portsmouth, or should the clank of trumpet61 or the rattle62 of drum break upon his ear, he would arch his old neck, throw out his grey-streaked tail, and raise his stiff knees in a pompous63 and pedantic64 canter. The country folk would stop to watch these antics of the old horse, and then the chances are that one of them would tell the rest how that charger had borne one of their own village lads to the wars, and how, when the rider had to fly the country, a kindly sergeant65 in the King’s troops had brought the steed as a remembrance of him to his father at home. So Covenant66 passed the last years of his life, a veteran among steeds, well fed and cared for, and much given, mayhap, to telling in equine language to all the poor, silly country steeds the wonderful passages which had befallen him in the West.
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1
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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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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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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10
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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11
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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12
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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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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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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17
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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22
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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26
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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28
arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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30
chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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31
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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32
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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33
ambushes
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| n.埋伏( ambush的名词复数 )；伏击；埋伏着的人；设埋伏点v.埋伏( ambush的第三人称单数 )；埋伏着 | |
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34
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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35
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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38
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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40
wedlock
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| n.婚姻，已婚状态 | |
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41
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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42
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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43
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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44
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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46
overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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47
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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48
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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49
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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50
latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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51
cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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52
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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53
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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54
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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55
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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56
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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57
dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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58
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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59
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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60
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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61
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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62
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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63
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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pedantic
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| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
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65
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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