“You have seen the beauty,” Ricardo went on expansively, hiding his lack of some sort of probable story under this loquacity4. “I had to hammer him away from the spout5. Opened afresh all the old broken spots on his head. You saw how hard I had to hit. He has no restraint, no restraint at all. If it wasn’t that he can be made useful in one way or another, I would just as soon have let the governor shoot him.”
He smiled up at Heyst in his peculiar6 lip-retracting manner, and added by way of afterthought:
“That’s what will happen to him in the end, if he doesn’t learn to restrain himself. But I’ve taught him to mind his manners for a while, anyhow!”
And again he addressed his quick grin up to the man on the wharf7. His round eyes had never left Heyst’s face ever since he began to deliver his account of the voyage.
“So that’s how he looks!” Ricardo was saying to himself.
He had not expected Heyst to be like this. He had formed for himself a conception containing the helpful suggestion of a vulnerable point. These solitary8 men were often tipplers. But no! — this was not a drinking man’s face; nor could he detect the weakness of alarm, or even the weakness of surprise, on these features, in those steady eyes.
“We were too far gone to climb out,” Ricardo went on. “I heard you walking along though. I thought I shouted; I tried to. You didn’t hear me shout?”
Heyst made an almost imperceptible negative sign, which the greedy eyes of Ricardo — greedy for all signs — did not miss.
“Throat too parched9. We didn’t even care to whisper to each other lately. Thirst chokes one. We might have died there under this wharf before you found us.”
“I couldn’t think where you had gone to.” Heyst was heard at last, addressing directly the newcomers from the sea. “You were seen as soon as you cleared that point.”
“We were seen, eh?” grunted10 Mr. Ricardo. “We pulled like machines —-daren’t stop. The governor sat at the tiller, but he couldn’t speak to us. She drove in between the piles till she hit something, and we all tumbled off the thwarts11 as if we had been drunk. Drunk — ha, ha! Too dry, by George! We fetched in here with the very last of our strength, and no mistake. Another mile would have done for us. When I heard your footsteps, above, I tried to get up, and I fell down.”
“That was the first sound I heard,” said Heyst.
Mr Jones, the front of his soiled white tunic13 soaked and plastered against his breast-bone, staggered away from the water-pipe. Steadying himself on Ricardo’s shoulder, he drew a long breath, raised his dripping head, and produced a smile of ghastly amiability14, which was lost upon the thoughtful Heyst. Behind his back the sun, touching16 the water, was like a disc of iron cooled to a dull red glow, ready to start rolling round the circular steel plate of the sea, which, under the darkening sky, looked more solid than the high ridge17 of Samburan; more solid than the point, whose long outlined slope melted into its own unfathomable shadow blurring18 the dim sheen on the bay. The forceful stream from the pipe broke like shattered glass on the boat’s gunwale. Its loud, fitful, and persistent19 splashing revealed the depths of the world’s silence.
“Great notion, to lead the water out here,” pronounced Ricardo appreciatively.
Water was life. He felt now as if he could run a mile, scale a ten-foot wall, sing a song. Only a few minutes ago he was next door to a corpse20, done up, unable to stand, to lift a hand; unable to groan21. A drop of water had done that miracle.
“Didn’t you feel life itself running and soaking into you, sir?” he asked his principal, with deferential22 but forced vivacity23.
Without a word, Mr. Jones stepped off the thwart12 and sat down in the stern-sheets.
“Isn’t that man of yours bleeding to death in the bows under there?” inquired Heyst.
Ricardo ceased his ecstasies24 over the life-giving water and answered in a tone of innocence25:
“He? You may call him a man, but his hide is a jolly sight tougher than the toughest alligator26 he ever skinned in the good old days. You don’t know how much he can stand: I do. We have tried him a long time ago. Ola, there! Pedro! Pedro!” he yelled, with a force of lung testifying to the regenerative virtues27 of water.
A weak “Senor?” came from under the wharf.
“What did I tell you?” said Ricardo triumphantly28. “Nothing can hurt him. He’s all right. But, I say, the boat’s getting swamped. Can’t you turn this water off before you sink her under us? She’s half full already.”
At a sign from Heyst, Wang hammered at the brass30 tap on the wharf, then stood behind Number One, crowbar in hand, motionless as before. Ricardo was perhaps not so certain of Pedro’s toughness as he affirmed; for he stooped, peering under the wharf, then moved forward out of sight. The gush31 of water ceasing suddenly, made a silence which became complete when the after-trickle stopped. Afar, the sun was reduced to a red spark, glowing very low in the breathless immensity of twilight32. Purple gleams lingered on the water all round the boat. The spectral33 figure in the stern-sheets spoke34 in a languid tone:
“That — er — companion — er — secretary of mine is a queer chap. I am afraid we aren’t presenting ourselves in a very favourable35 light.”
Heyst listened. It was the conventional voice of an educated man, only strangely lifeless. But more strange yet was this concern for appearances, expressed, he did not know, whether in jest or in earnest. Earnestness was hardly to be supposed under the circumstances, and no one had ever jested in such dead tones. It was something which could not be answered, and Heyst said nothing. The other went on:
“Travelling as I do, I find a man of his sort extremely useful. He has his little weaknesses, no doubt.”
“Indeed!” Heyst was provoked into speaking. “Weakness of the arm is not one of them; neither is an exaggerated humanity, as far as I can judge.”
“Defects of temper,” explained Mr. Jones from the stern-sheets.
The subject of this dialogue, coming out just then from under the wharf into the visible part of the boat, made himself heard in his own defence, in a voice full of life, and with nothing languid in his manner on the contrary, it was brisk, almost jocose36. He begged pardon for contradicting. He was never out of temper with “our Pedro.” The fellow was a Dago of immense strength and of no sense whatever. This combination made him dangerous, and he had to be treated accordingly, in a manner which he could understand. Reasoning was beyond him.
“And so”— Ricardo addressed Heyst with animation37 —“you mustn’t be surprised if —”
“I assure you,” Heyst interrupted, “that my wonder at your arrival in your boat here is so great that it leaves no room for minor38 astonishments. But hadn’t you better land?”
“That’s the talk, sir!” Ricardo began to bustle39 about the boat, talking all the time. Finding himself unable to “size up” this man, he was inclined to credit him with extraordinary powers of penetration40, which, it seemed to him, would be favoured by silence. Also, he feared some pointblank question. He had no ready-made story to tell. He and his patron had put off considering that rather important detail too long. For the last two days, the horrors of thirst, coming on them unexpectedly, had prevented consultation41. They had had to pull for dear life. But the man on the wharf, were he in league with the devil himself, would pay for all their sufferings, thought Ricardo with an unholy joy.
Meantime, splashing in the water which covered the bottom-boards, Ricardo congratulated himself aloud on the luggage being out of the way of the wet. He had piled it up forward. He had roughly tied up Pedro’s head. Pedro had nothing to grumble42 about. On the contrary, he ought to be mighty43 thankful to him, Ricardo, for being alive at all.
“Well, now, let me give you a leg up, sir,” he said cheerily to his motionless principal in the stern-sheets. “All our troubles are over — for a time, anyhow. Ain’t it luck to find a white man on this island? I would have just as soon expected to meet an angel from heaven — eh, Mr. Jones? Now then — ready, sir? one, two, three, up you go!”
Helped from below by Ricardo, and from above by the man more unexpected than an angel, Mr. Jones scrambled44 up and stood on the wharf by the side of Heyst. He swayed like a reed. The night descending45 on Samburan turned into dense46 shadow the point of land and the wharf itself, and gave a dark solidity to the unshimmering water extending to the last faint trace of light away to the west. Heyst stared at the guests whom the renounced47 world had sent him thus at the end of the day. The only other vestige48 of light left on earth lurked49 in the hollows of the thin man’s eyes. They gleamed, mobile and languidly evasive. The eyelids50 fluttered.
“You are feeling weak,” said Heyst.
“For the moment, a little,” confessed the other.
With loud panting, Ricardo scrambled on his hands and knees upon the wharf, energetic and unaided. He rose up at Heyst’s elbow and stamped his foot on the planks51, with a sharp, provocative52, double beat, such as is heard sometimes in fencing-schools before the adversaries53 engage their foils. Not that the renegade seaman54 Ricardo knew anything of fencing. What he called “shooting-irons,” were his weapons, or the still less aristocratic knife, such as was even then ingeniously strapped55 to his leg. He thought of it, at that moment. A swift stooping motion, then, on the recovery, a ripping blow, a shove off the wharf, and no noise except a splash in the water that would scarcely disturb the silence. Heyst would have no time for a cry. It would be quick and neat, and immensely in accord with Ricardo’s humour. But he repressed this gust56 of savagery57. The job was not such a simple one. This piece had to be played to another tune58, and in much slower time. He returned to his note of talkative simplicity59.
“Ay; and I too don’t feel as strong as I thought I was when the first drink set me up. Great wonder-worker water is! And to get it right here on the spot! It was heaven — hey, sir?”
Mr Jones, being directly addressed, took up his part in the concerted piece:
“Really, when I saw a wharf on what might have been an uninhabited island, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I doubted its existence. I thought it was a delusion60 till the boat actually drove between the piles, as you see her lying now.”
While he was speaking faintly, in a voice which did not seem to belong to the earth, his henchman, in extremely loud and terrestrial accents, was fussing about their belongings61 in the boat, addressing himself to Pedro:
“Come, now — pass up the dunnage there! Move, yourself, hombre, or I’ll have to get down again and give you a tap on those bandages of yours, you growling62 bear, you!”
“Ah! You didn’t believe in the reality of the wharf?” Heyst was saying to Mr. Jones.
“You ought to kiss my hands!”
Ricardo caught hold of an ancient Gladstone bag and swung it on the wharf with a thump63.
“Yes! You ought to burn a candle before me as they do before the saints in your country. No saint has ever done so much for you as I have, you ungrateful vagabond. Now then! Up you get!”
Helped by the talkative Ricardo, Pedro scrambled up on the wharf, where he remained for some time on all fours, swinging to and fro his shaggy head tied up in white rags. Then he got up clumsily, like a bulky animal in the dusk, balancing itself on its hind15 legs.
Mr Jones began to explain languidly to Heyst that they were in a pretty bad state that morning, when they caught sight of the smoke of the volcano. It nerved them to make an effort for their lives. Soon afterwards they made out the island.
“I had just wits enough left in my baked brain to alter the direction of the boat,” the ghostly voice went on. “As to finding assistance, a wharf, a white man — nobody would have dreamed of it. Simply preposterous64!”
“That’s what I thought when my Chinaman came and told me he had seen a boat with white men pulling up,” said Heyst.
“Most extraordinary luck,” interjected Ricardo, standing65 by anxiously attentive66 to every word. “Seems a dream,” he added. “A lovely dream!”
A silence fell on that group of three, as if everyone had become afraid to speak, in an obscure sense of an impending67 crisis. Pedro on one side of them and Wang on the other had the air of watchful68 spectators. A few stars had come out pursuing the ebbing69 twilight. A light draught70 of air tepid71 enough in the thickening twilight after the scorching72 day, struck a chill into Mr. Jones in his soaked clothes.
“I may infer, then, that there is a settlement of white people here?” he murmured, shivering visibly.
Heyst roused himself.
“Oh, abandoned, abandoned. I am alone here — practically alone; but several empty houses are still standing. No lack of accommodation. We may just as well — here, Wang, go back to the shore and run the trolley73 out here.”
The last words having been spoken in Malay, he explained courteously74 that he had given directions for the transport of the luggage. Wang had melted into the night — in his soundless manner.
“My word! Rails laid down and all,” exclaimed Ricardo softly, in a tone of admiration75. “Well, I never!”
“We were working a coal-mine here,” said the late manager of the Tropical Belt Coal Company. “These are only the ghosts of things that have been.”
Mr Jones’s teeth were suddenly started chattering76 by another faint puff77 of wind, a mere29 sigh from the west, where Venus cast her rays on the dark edge of the horizon, like a bright lamp hung above the grave of the sun.
“We might be moving on,” proposed Heyst. “My Chinaman and that — ah — ungrateful servant of yours, with the broken head, can load the things and come along after us.”
The suggestion was accepted without words. Moving towards the shore, the three men met the trolley, a mere metallic78 rustle79 which whisked past them, the shadowy Wang running noiselessly behind. Only the sound of their footsteps accompanied them. It was a long time since so many footsteps had rung together on that jetty. Before they stepped on to the path trodden through the grass, Heyst said:
“I am prevented from offering you a share of my own quarters.” The distant courtliness of this beginning arrested the other two suddenly, as if amazed by some manifest incongruity80. “I should regret it more,” he went on, “if I were not in a position to give you the choice of those empty bungalows81 for a temporary home.”
He turned round and plunged83 into the narrow track, the two others following in single file.
“Queer start!” Ricardo took the opportunity for whispering, as he fell behind Mr. Jones, who swayed in the gloom, enclosed by the stalks of tropical grass, almost as slender as a stalk of grass himself.
In this order they emerged into the open space kept clear of vegetation by Wang’s judicious84 system of periodic firing. The shapes of buildings, unlighted, high-roofed, looked mysteriously extensive and featureless against the increasing glitter of the stars. Heyst was pleased at the absence of light in his bungalow82. It looked as uninhabited as the others. He continued to lead the way, inclining to the right. His equable voice was heard:
“This one would be the best. It was our counting-house. There is some furniture in it yet. I am pretty certain that you’ll find a couple of camp bedsteads in one of the rooms.”
The high-pitched roof of the bungalow towered up very close, eclipsing the sky.
“Here we are. Three steps. As you see, there’s a wide veranda85. Sorry to keep you waiting for a moment; the door is locked, I think.”
He was heard trying it. Then he leaned against the rail, saying:
“Wang will get the keys.”
The others waited, two vague shapes nearly mingled86 together in the darkness of the veranda, from which issued a sudden chattering of Mr. Jones’s teeth, directly suppressed, and a slight shuffle87 of Ricardo’s feet. Their guide and host, his back against the rail, seemed to have forgotten their existence. Suddenly he moved, and murmured:
“Ah, here’s the trolley.”
Then he raised his voice in Malay, and was answered, “Ya tuan,” from an indistinct group that could be made out in the direction of the track.
“I have sent Wang for the key and a light,” he said, in a voice that came out without any particular direction — a peculiarity88 which disconcerted Ricardo.
Wang did not tarry long on his mission. Very soon from the distant recesses89 of obscurity appeared the swinging lantern he carried. It cast a fugitive90 ray on the arrested trolley with the uncouth91 figure of the wild Pedro drooping92 over the load; then it moved towards the bungalow and ascended93 the stairs. After working at the stiff lock, Wang applied his shoulder to the door. It came open with explosive suddenness, as if in a passion at being thus disturbed after two years’ repose94. From the dark slope of a tall stand-up writing-desk a forgotten, solitary sheet of paper flew up and settled gracefully95 on the floor.
Wang and Pedro came and went through the offended door, bringing the things off the trolley, one flitting swiftly in and out, the other staggering heavily. Later, directed by a few quiet words from Number One, Wang made several journeys with the lantern to the store-rooms, bringing in blankets, provisions in tins, coffee, sugar, and a packet of candles. He lighted one, and stuck it on the ledge96 of the stand-up desk. Meantime Pedro, being introduced to some kindling-wood and a bundle of dry sticks, had busied himself outside in lighting97 a fire, on which he placed a ready-filled kettle handed to him by Wang impassively, at arm’s length, as if across a chasm98. Having received the thanks of his guests, Heyst wished them goodnight and withdrew, leaving them to their repose.
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收听单词发音
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1
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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9
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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10
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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thwarts
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| 阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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12
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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13
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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15
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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blurring
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| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
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19
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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22
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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24
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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31
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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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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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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39
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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40
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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41
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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42
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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44
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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45
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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46
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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47
renounced
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| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
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48
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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49
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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51
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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52
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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53
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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54
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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55
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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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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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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83
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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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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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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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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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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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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