I had lain long in a kind of dreamy agony. Like many who were in the Redan and in the ditch around it, I had murmured "water, water," often and vainly. The loss of Estelle, or of Valerie, for times there were when my mind wandered to the former now, the love of dear friends, the death of comrades, honour, glory, danger from pillaging7 Russians or Tartars, all emotions, in fact, were merged8 or swallowed up in the terrible agony I endured in my shattered arm, and the still more consuming craving9 for something wherewith to moisten my cracked lips and parched10 throat. Poor Phil Caradoc had perhaps endured this before me, while his heart and soul were full of Winifred Lloyd; but Phil, God rest him! was at peace now, and slept as sound in his uncouth11 grave as if laid under marble in Westminster Abbey.
In my uneasy slumber12 I had been conscious of this sensation of thirst, and had visions of champagne13 goblets14, foaming15 and iced; of humble16 bitter beer and murmuring water; of gurgling brooks17 that flowed over brown pebbles18, and under long-bladed grass and burdocks in leafy dingles; of Llyn Tegid, deep and blue; of the marble fountain, with the lilies and golden fish, at Craigaderyn. Then with this idea the voice of Winifred Lloyd came pleasantly to my ear; her white fingers played with the sparkling water, she raised some to my lips, but the cup fell to pieces, and starting, I awoke to find a tall Highlander3, of the Black Watch, bending over me, and on my imploring19 him to get me some water, he placed his wooden canteen to my lips, and I drank of the contents, weak rum-grog, greedily and thankfully.
It seemed strange to me that I should dream of Winifred, there and then; but no doubt the last words of Caradoc had led me to think of her. It is only when waking after long weariness of the body, and over-tension of the nerves, the result of such keen excitement as we had undergone since yesterday morning, that the full extremity20 of exhaustion21 and fatigue22 can be felt, as I felt them then. Add to these, that my shattered arm had bled profusely23, and was still undressed.
Staggering up, I looked around me. The moon was shining, and flakes24 of her silver light streamed through the now silent embrasures of the Redan, silent save for the groans25 of the dying within it. There and in the ditch the dead lay thick as sheaves in a harvest-field--thick as the Greeks, at Troy, lay under the arrows of Apollo. How many a man was lying there, mutilated almost out of the semblance26 of humanity, whose thoughts, when the death shot struck him down, or the sharp bayonet pierced him, had flashed home, quicker than the electric telegraph, yea, quicker than light, to his parents' hearth27, to his lonely wife, to the little cots where their children lay abed--little ones, the memory of whose waxen faces and pink hands then filled his heart with tears; how many a resolution for prayer and repentance28 if spared by God; how many a pious29 invocation; how many a fierce resolution to meet the worst, and die like a man and a soldier, had gone up from that hell upon earth, the Redan--the fatal Redan, which we should never have attacked, but should have aided the French in the capture of the Malakoff, after which it must inevitably30 have fallen soon, if not at once.
Many of our officers were afterwards found therein, each with a hand clutching a dead Russian's throat, or coat, or belt, their fingers stiffened31 in death--man grasping man in a fierce and last embrace. Among others, that stately and handsome fellow, Raymond Mostyn, of the Rifles, and an officer of the Vladimir regiment32 were thus locked together, the same grape-shot having killed them both. Some of our slain33 soldiers were yet actually clinging to the parapet and slope of the glacis, as if still alive, thus showing the reluctance34 with which they had retired--the desperation with which they died. In every imaginable position of agony, of distortion, and bloody35 mutilation they lay, heads crushed and faces battered36, eyes starting from their sockets37, and swollen38 tongues protruding39; and on that terrible scene the pale moon, "sweet regent of the sky," the innocent queen of night, as another poet calls her, looked softly down in her glory, as the same moon in England, far away, was looking on the stubble-fields whence the golden grain had been gathered, on peaceful homesteads, old church steeples and quiet cottage roofs, on the ruddy furnaces of the Black country, on peace and plenty, and where war was unknown, save by name.
She glinted on broken and abandoned weapons; she silvered the upturned faces of the dead--kissing them, as it were, for many a loving one who should see them no more; and gemming41 as if with diamonds the dewy grass and the autumnal wild-flowers; and there, too, amid that horrible débris, were the little birds--the goldfinch, the tit, and the sparrow--hopping and twittering about, too terrified to seek their nests, scared as they were by the uproar42 of the day that was past.
I felt sick at heart and crushed in spirit now. In the immediate43 foreground the moonlight glinted on the tossing dark plumes44, the picturesque45 costume, and bright bayonets of the Highlanders in the trenches. In the distance was the town; its ports, arsenals46, barracks, theatres, palaces, churches, and streets sheeted with roaring flames, that lighted up all the roadstead, where, one after the other, the Russian ships were disappearing beneath the waves, in that lurid47 glare which tipped with a fiery48 gleam the white walls and spiked49 cannon50 of the now abandoned forts.
I began to creep back towards the camp, in search of surgical51 aid, and on the way came to a place where, with their uniforms off, their shirt-sleeves rolled up, their boxes of instruments open, lint40 and bandages ready, three officers of the medical staff were busy upon a group of wounded men, who sat or lay near, waiting their turn, some impatiently, some with passive endurance, but all, more or less, in pain, as their moans and sighs declared.
"Don't bother about that Zouave, Gage52," I heard one ?sculapius say, as I came near, "I have overhauled53 him already!"
"Is his wound mortal?"
"Yes--brain lacerated. By Jove! here is an officer of the 23rd!"
"Well, he must wait a little."
So I sighed, and seated myself on a stone, and clenched54 my teeth to control the agony I was enduring. The men who lay about us, with pale, woe-begone visages and lack-lustre eyes, belonged chiefly to the Light Division, but among them I saw, to my surprise, a Russian hussar lying dead, with the blood dry and crusted on his pale blue and yellow-braided dolman. How he came to be there, I had not the curiosity to inquire. A mere55 bundle of gory56 rags, he seemed; for a cannon-shot had doubled him up, and now his Tartar horse stood over him, eyeing him wildly, and sniffing57 as if in wonder about his bearded face and fallen jaw58.
The Zouave referred to was a noisy and loquacious59 fellow, notwithstanding his perilous60 predicament. He had strayed hither somehow from the Malakoff, and was mortally wounded, as the surgeon said, and dying. A tiny plaster image of the blessed Virgin61 lay before him; he was praying intently at times, but being fatuous62, he wildly and oddly mingled63 with his orisons the name of a certain Mademoiselle Auréle, a fleuriste, with whom he imagined himself in the second gallery of the Théatre Fran?ais, or supping at the Barrière de l'Etoile; anon he imagined they were on the Boulevardes, or in a café chantant; and then as his mind--or what remained of it--seemed to revert64 to the events of the day, he drew his "cabbage-cutter," as the French call their sword-bayonet, and brandished65 it, crying,
"Cut and hew66, strike, mes camarades--frappez vite et frappez forte67! Vive la France! Vive l'Empéreur!"
This was the last effort; a gush68 of fresh blood poured into his eyes, and the poor Zouave was soon cold and stiff. In a kind of stupor69 I sat there and watched by moon and lantern light the hasty operations: bullets probed for and snipped70 out by forceps, while the patients writhed71 and yelled; legs and arms dressed or cut off like branches lopped from a tree, and chucked into a heap for interment. I shuddered72 with apprehensive73 foreboding of what might ensue when my own turn came, and heard, as in a dream, the three surgeons talking with the most placid74 coolness about their little bits of practice.
"Jones, please," said one, a very young staff medico, "will you kindly75 take off this fellow's leg for me? I have ripped up his trousers and applied76 the tourniquet--he is quite ready."
"But must it come off?" asked Jones, who was patching up a bullet-hole with lint.
"Yes; gun-shot fracture of the knee-joint--patella totally gone."
"Why don't you do it yourself, my good fellow?" asked the third, who, with an ivory-handled saw between his teeth, was preparing to operate on the fore-arm of a 19th man, whose groans were terrible. "Gage, did you never amputate?"
"Never on the living subject."
"On a dead one then, surely?"
"Often--of course.'
"By Jove, you can't begin too soon--so why not now?"
"I am too nervous--do it for me."
"In one minute; but only this once, remember. Now give me your knife for the flap; and look to that officer of the Welsh Fusileers--his left arm is wounded."
So while Dr. Jones, whom the haggard eyes of the man, whose limb was doomed77, watched with a terrible expression of anxiety, applied himself to the task of amputation78, the younger doctor, a hand fresh from London, came to me.
After ripping up the sleeve of my uniform, and having a brief examination, which caused me such bitter agony that I could no longer stand, but lay on the grass, he said,
"Sorry to tell you, that yours is a compound fracture of the most serious kind."
"Is it reducible?" I asked, in a low voice.
"No; I regret to say that your arm must come off."
"My arm--must I lose it?" I asked, feeling keener anguish79 with the unwelcome announcement.
"Yes; and without delay," he replied, stooping towards his instrument case.
"I cannot spare it--I must have some other--excuse me, sir--some older advice," I exclaimed, passionately80.
"As you please, sir," replied the staff-surgeon, coolly; "but we have no time to spare here, either for opposition81 or indecision."
The other two glanced at my arm, poked82 it, felt it as if it had been that of a lay figure in a studio, and supported the opinion of their brother of the knife. But the prospect83 of being mutilated, armless, for life, and all the pleasures of which such a fate must deprive me, seemed so terrible, that I resolved to seek for other advice at the hospital tents, and towards them I took my way, enduring such pain of body and misery84 of mind that on reaching them I should have sunk, had brandy not been instantly given to me by an orderly. It was Sunday morning now, and the gray light of the September dawn was stealing over the waters of the Euxine, and up the valley of Inkermann. The fragrant85 odour of the wild thyme came pleasantly on the breeze; but now the rain was falling heavily, as it generally does after an action--firing puts down the wind, and so the rain comes; but to me then it was like the tears of heaven--"Nature's tear-drop," as Byron has it, bedewing the unburied dead. A red-faced and irritable-looking little Deputy Inspector86 of Hospitals, in a blue frogged surtout, received me, and from him I did not augur87 much. The patients were pouring in by hundreds, and the medical staff had certainly no sinecure88 there. After I had been stripped and put to bed, I remember this personage examining my wound and muttering,
"Bad case--very!"
"Am I in danger, doctor?" I inquired.
"Yes, of course, if it should gangrene," said he, sharply.
"I don't care much for life, but I should not like to lose my arm. Do you think that--that--"
"What?" he asked, opening his box of tools with sangfroid89.
"I shall die of this?"
"Of a smashed bone?"
"Yes."
"Well, my dear fellow, not yet, I hope."
"Yet?" said I, doubtfully.
"Well, immediately, I mean. There is already much sign of inflammation, and consequent chance of fever. The os humerus is, as I say, smashed to pieces, and the internal and external condyles of the elbow are most seriously injured. Corporal Mulligan, a basin and sponge, and desire Dr.----" (I did not catch the name) "to step this way."
The corporal, a black-bearded Connaught Ranger90, who had lost an eye at Alma, brought what the surgeon required; he then placed a handkerchief to my nostrils91; there was a bubbling sensation in the brain, but momentary92, as the handkerchief contained chloroform; then something peaceful, soporific, and soothing93 stole over me, and for a time I became oblivious94 of all around me.
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收听单词发音
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1
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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2
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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3
highlander
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| n.高地的人，苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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Moslem
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| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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pillaging
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| v.抢劫，掠夺( pillage的现在分词 ) | |
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8
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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12
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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13
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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15
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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16
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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17
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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18
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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19
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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24
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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25
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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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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27
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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29
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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30
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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31
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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33
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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34
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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35
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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36
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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37
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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38
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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39
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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40
lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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41
gemming
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| 点缀（gem的现在分词形式） | |
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42
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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43
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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44
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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45
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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46
arsenals
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| n.兵工厂，军火库( arsenal的名词复数 )；任何事物的集成 | |
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47
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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48
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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49
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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50
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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51
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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52
gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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53
overhauled
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| v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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54
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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56
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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57
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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58
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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59
loquacious
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| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
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60
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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61
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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62
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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63
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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64
revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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65
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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66
hew
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| v.砍；伐；削 | |
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67
forte
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| n.长处，擅长；adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
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68
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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69
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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70
snipped
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| v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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73
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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74
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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75
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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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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amputation
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| n.截肢 | |
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79
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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80
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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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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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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augur
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| n.占卦师；v.占卦 | |
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sinecure
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| n.闲差事，挂名职务 | |
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sangfroid
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| n.沉着冷静 | |
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ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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