A year had stolen by since the death of Binny Wallace -- a year of which I have nothing important to record.
The loss of our little playmate threw a shadow over our young lives for many and many a month. The Dolphin rose and fell with the tide at the foot of the slippery steps, unused, the rest of the summer. At the close of November we hauled her sadly into the boat-house for the winter; but when spring came round we launched the Dolphin again, and often went down to the wharf1 and looked at her lying in the tangled2 eel-grass, without much inclination3 to take a row. The associations connected with the boat were too painful as yet; but time, which wears the sharp edge from everything, softened4 this feeling, and one afternoon we brought out the cobwebbed oars5.
The ice once broken, brief trips along the wharves6 -- we seldom cared to go out into the river now -- became one of our chief amusements. Meanwhile Gypsy was not forgotten. Every clear morning I was in the saddle before breakfast, and there are few roads or lanes within ten miles of Rivermouth that have not borne the print of her vagrant7 hoof8.
I studied like a good fellow this quarter, carrying off a couple of first prizes. The Captain expressed his gratification by presenting me with a new silver dollar. If a dollar in his eyes was smaller than a cart-wheel, it wasn't so very much smaller. I redeemed9 my pencil-case from the treasurer10 of the Centipedes, and felt that I was getting on in the world.
It was at this time I was greatly cast down by a letter from my father saying that he should be unable to visit Rivermouth until the following year. With that letter came another to Captain Nutter11, which he did not read aloud to the family, as usual. It was on business, he said, folding it up in his wallet. He received several of these business letters from time to time, and I noticed that they always made him silent and moody12.
The fact is, my father's banking-house was not thriving. The unlooked-for failure of a firm largely indebted to him had crippled "the house." When the Captain imparted this information to me I didn't trouble myself over the matter. I supposed -- if I supposed anything -- that all grown-up people had more or less money, when they wanted it. Whether they inherited it, or whether government supplied them, was not clear to me. A loose idea that my father had a private gold-mine somewhere or other relieved me of all uneasiness.
I was not far from right. Every man has within himself a gold-mine whose riches are limited only by his own industry. It is true, it sometimes happens that industry does not avail, if a man lacks that something which, for want of a better name, we call Luck. My father was a person of untiring energy and ability; but he had no luck. To use a Rivermouth saying, he was always catching13 sculpins when everyone else with the same bait was catching mackerel.
It was more than two years since I had seen my parents. I felt that I could not bear a longer separation. Every letter from New Orleans -- we got two or three a month -- gave me a fit of homesickness; and when it was definitely settled that my father and mother were to remain in the South another twelvemonth, I resolved to go to them.
Since Binny Wallace's death, Pepper Whitcomb had been my fidus Achates; we occupied desks near each other at school, and were always together in play hours. We rigged a twine14 telegraph from his garret window to the scuttle15 of the Nutter House, and sent messages to each other in a match-box. We shared our pocket-money and our secrets-those amazing secrets which boys have. We met in lonely places by stealth, and parted like conspirators16; we couldn't buy a jackknife or build a kite without throwing an air of mystery and guilt17 over the transaction.
I naturally hastened to lay my New Orleans project before Pepper Whitcomb, having dragged him for that purpose to a secluded18 spot in the dark pine woods outside the town. Pepper listened to me with a gravity which he will not be able to surpass when he becomes Chief Justice, and strongly advised me to go.
"The summer vacation," said Pepper, "lasts six weeks; that will give you a fortnight to spend in New Orleans, allowing two weeks each way for the journey."
I wrung19 his hand and begged him to accompany me, offering to defray all the expenses. I wasn't anything if I wasn't princely in those days. After considerable urging, he consented to go on terms so liberal. The whole thing was arranged; there was nothing to do now but to advise Captain Nutter of my plan, which I did the next day.
The possibility that he might oppose the tour never entered my head. I was therefore totally unprepared for the vigorous negative which met my proposal. I was deeply mortified20, moreover, for there was Pepper Whitcomb on the wharf, at the foot of the street, waiting for me to come and let him know what day we were to start.
"Go to New Orleans? Go to Jericho!" exclaimed Captain Nutter. "You'd look pretty, you two, philandering22 off, like the babes in the wood, twenty-five hundred miles, 'with all the world before you where to choose!'"
And the Captain's features, which had worn an indignant air as he began the sentence, relaxed into a broad smile. Whether it was at the felicity of his own quotation23, or at the mental picture he drew of Pepper and myself on our travels.
I couldn't tell, and I didn't care. I was heart-broken. How could I face my chum after all the dazzling inducements I had held out to him?
My grandfather, seeing that I took the matter seriously, pointed24 out the difficulties of such a journey and the great expense involved. He entered into the details of my father's money troubles, and succeeded in making it plain to me that my wishes, under the circumstances, were somewhat unreasonable25. It was in no cheerful mood that I joined Pepper at the end of the wharf.
I found that young gentleman leaning against the bulkhead gazing intently towards the islands in the harbor. He had formed a telescope of his hands, and was so occupied with his observations as to be oblivious26 of my approach.
"Hullo!" cried Pepper, dropping his hands. "Look there! Isn't that a bark coming up the Narrows?"
"Where?"
"Just at the left of Fishcrate Island. Don't you see the foremast peeping above the old derrick?"
Sure enough it was a vessel27 of considerable size, slowly beating up to town. In a few moments more the other two masts were visible above the green hillocks.
"Fore-topmasts blown away," said Pepper. "Putting in for repairs, I guess."
As the bark lazily crept from behind the last of the islands, she let go her anchors and swung round with the tide. Then the gleeful chant of the sailors at the capstan came to us pleasantly across the water. The vessel lay within three quarters of a mile of us, and we could plainly see the men at the davits lowering the starboard long-boat. It no sooner touched the stream than a dozen of the crew scrambled28 like mice over the side of the merchantman.
In a neglected seaport29 like Rivermouth the arrival of a large ship is an event of moment. The prospect30 of having twenty or thirty jolly tars31 let loose on the peaceful town excites divers32 emotions among the inhabitants. The small shopkeepers along the wharves anticipate a thriving trade; the proprietors33 of the two rival boarding-houses -- the "Wee Drop" and the "Mariner34's Home" -- hasten down to the landing to secure lodgers35; and the female population of Anchor Lane turn out to a woman, for a ship fresh from sea is always full of possible husbands and long-lost prodigal36 sons.
But aside from this there is scant37 welcome given to a ship's crew in Rivermouth. The toil-worn mariner is a sad fellow ashore38, judging him by a severe moral standard.
Once, I remember, a United States frigate39 came into port for repairs after a storm. She lay in the river a fortnight or more, and every day sent us a gang of sixty or seventy of our country's gallant40 defenders41, who spread themselves over the town, doing all sorts of mad things. They were good-natured enough, but full of old Sancho. The "Wee Drop" proved a drop too much for many of them. They went singing through the streets at midnight, wringing42 off door-knockers, shinning up water-spouts, and frightening the Oldest Inhabitant nearly to death by popping their heads into his second-story window, and shouting "Fire!" One morning a blue-jacket was discovered in a perilous43 plight44, half-way up the steeple of the South Church, clinging to the lightning-rod. How he got there nobody could tell, not even blue-jacket himself. All he knew was, that the leg of his trousers had caught on a nail, and there he stuck, unable to move either way. It cost the town twenty dollars to get him down again. He directed the workmen how to splice45 the ladders brought to his assistance, and called his rescuers "butter-fingered land-lubbers" with delicious coolness.
But those were man-of-war's men: The sedate-looking craft now lying off Fishcrate Island wasn't likely to carry any such cargo46. Nevertheless, we watched the coming in of the long-boat with considerable interest.
As it drew near, the figure of the man pulling the bow-oar seemed oddly familiar to me. Where could I have seen him before? When and where? His back was towards me, but there was something about that closely cropped head that I recognized instantly.
"Way enough!" cried the steersman, and all the oars stood upright in the air. The man in the bow seized the boat-hook, and, turning round quickly, showed me the honest face of Sailor Ben of the Typhoon.
"It's Sailor Ben!" I cried, nearly pushing Pepper Whitcomb overboard in my excitement.
Sailor Ben, with the wonderful pink lady on his arm, and the ships and stars and anchors tattooed47 all over him, was a well-known hero among my playmates. And there he was, like something in a dream come true!
I didn't wait for my old acquaintance to get firmly on the wharf, before I grasped his hand in both of mine.
"Sailor Ben, don't you remember me?"
He evidently did not. He shifted his quid from one cheek to the other, and looked at me meditatively48.
"Lord love ye, lad, I don't know you. I was never here afore in my life."
"What!" I cried, enjoying his perplexity. "Have you forgotten the voyage from New Orleans in the Typhoon, two years ago, you lovely old picture-book?"
Ah! then he knew me, and in token of the recollection gave my hand such a squeeze that I am sure an unpleasant change came over my countenance49.
"Bless my eyes, but you have growed so. I shouldn't have knowed you if I had met you in Singapore!"
Without stopping to inquire, as I was tempted50 to do, why he was more likely to recognize me in Singapore than anywhere else, I invited him to come at once up to the Nutter House, where I insured him a warm welcome from the Captain.
"Hold steady, Master Tom," said Sailor Ben, slipping the painter through the ringbolt and tying the loveliest knot you ever saw; "hold steady till I see if the mate can let me off. If you please, sir," he continued, addressing the steersman, a very red-faced, bow-legged person, "this here is a little shipmate o' mine as wants to talk over back times along of me, if so it's convenient."
"All right, Ben," returned the mate; "sha'n't want you for an hour."
Leaving one man in charge of the boat, the mate and the rest of the crew went off together. In the meanwhile Pepper Whitcomb had got out his cunner-line, and was quietly fishing at the end of the wharf, as if to give me the idea that he wasn't so very much impressed by my intimacy51 with so renowned52 a character as Sailor Ben. Perhaps Pepper was a little jealous. At any rate, he refused to go with us to the house.
Captain Nutter was at home reading the Rivermouth Barnacle. He was a reader to do an editor's heart good; he never skipped over an advertisement, even if he had read it fifty times before. Then the paper went the rounds of the neighborhood, among the poor people, like the single portable eye which the three blind crones passed to each other in the legend of King Acrisius. The Captain, I repeat, was wandering in the labyrinths53 of the Rivermouth Barnacle when I led Sailor Ben into the sitting-room54.
My grandfather, whose inborn55 courtesy knew no distinctions, received my nautical56 friend as if he had been an admiral instead of a common forecastle-hand. Sailor Ben pulled an imaginary tuft of hair on his forehead, and bowed clumsily. Sailors have a way of using their forelock as a sort of handle to bow with.
The old tar21 had probably never been in so handsome an apartment in all his days, and nothing could induce him to take the inviting57 mahogany chair which the Captain wheeled out from the corner.
The abashed58 mariner stood up against the wall, twirling his tarpaulin59 in his two hands and looking extremely silly. He made a poor show in a gentleman's drawing-room, but what a fellow he had been in his day, when the gale60 blew great guns and the topsails wanted reefing! I thought of him with the Mexican squadron off Vera Cruz, where,
'The rushing battle-bolt sung from the three-decker out of the foam,'
and he didn't seem awkward or ignoble61 to me, for all his shyness.
As Sailor Ben declined to sit down, the Captain did not resume his seat; so we three stood in a constrained62 manner until my grandfather went to the door and called to Kitty to bring in a decanter of Madeira and two glasses.
"My grandson, here, has talked so much about you," said the Captain, pleasantly, "that you seem quite like an old acquaintance to me."
"Thankee, sir, thankee," returned Sailor Ben, looking as guilty as if he had been detected in picking a pocket.
"And I'm very glad to see you, Mr. -- Mr. -- "
"Sailor Ben," suggested that worthy63.
"Mr. Sailor Ben," added the Captain, smiling. "Tom, open the door, there's Kitty with the glasses."
I opened the door, and Kitty entered the room bringing the things on a waiter, which she was about to set on the table, when suddenly she uttered a loud shriek64; the decanter and glasses fell with a crash to the floor, and Kitty, as white as a sheet, was seen flying through the hall.
"It's his wraith65! It's his wraith!"' we heard Kitty shrieking66 in the kitchen.
My grandfather and I turned with amazement67 to Sailor Ben. His eyes were standing68 out of his head like a lobster's.
"It's my own little Irish lass!" shouted the sailor, and he darted69 into the hall after her.
Even then we scarcely caught the meaning of his words, but when we saw Sailor Ben and Kitty sobbing70 on each other's shoulder in the kitchen, we understood it all.
"I begs your honor's parden, sir," said Sailor Ben, lifting his tear-stained face above Kitty's tumbled hair; "I begs your honor's parden for kicking up a rumpus in the house, but it's my own little Irish lass as I lost so long ago!"
"Heaven preserve us!" cried the Captain, blowing his nose violently -- a transparent71 ruse72 to hide his emotion.
Miss Abigail was in an upper chamber73, sweeping74; but on hearing the unusual racket below, she scented75 an accident and came ambling76 downstairs with a bottle of the infallible hot-drops in her hand. Nothing but the firmness of my grandfather prevented her from giving Sailor Ben a table-spoonful on the spot. But when she learned what had come about -- that this was Kitty's husband, that Kitty Collins wasn't Kitty Collins now, but Mrs. Benjamin Watson of Nantucket -- the good soul sat down on the meal-chest and sobbed77 as if -- to quote from Captain Nutter -- as if a husband of her own had turned up!
A happier set of people than we were never met together in a dingy78 kitchen or anywhere else. The Captain ordered a fresh decanter of Madeira, and made all hands, excepting myself, drink a cup to the return of "the prodigal sea-son," as he persisted in calling Sailor Ben.
After the first flush of joy and surprise was over Kitty grew silent and constrained. Now and then she fixed79 her eyes thoughtfully on her husband. Why had he deserted80 her all these years? What right had he to look for a welcome from one he had treated so cruelly? She had been true to him, but had he been true to her? Sailor Ben must have guessed what was passing in her mind, for presently he took her hand and said -- "Well, lass, it's a long yarn81, but you shall have it all in good time. It was my hard luck as made us part company, an' no will of mine, for I loved you dear."
Kitty brightened up immediately, needing no other assurance of Sailor Ben's faithfulness.
When his hour had expired, we walked with him down to the wharf, where the Captain held a consultation82 with the mate, which resulted in an extension of Mr. Watson's leave of absence, and afterwards in his discharge from his ship. We then went to the "Mariner's Home" to engage a room for him, as he wouldn't hear of accepting the hospitalities of the Nutter House.
"You see, I'm only an uneddicated man," he remarked to my grandfather, by way of explanation.
收听单词发音 |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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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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wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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nutter
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| n.疯子 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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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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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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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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philandering
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| v.调戏，玩弄女性( philander的现在分词 ) | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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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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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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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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seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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tars
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| 焦油，沥青，柏油( tar的名词复数 ) | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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splice
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| v.接合，衔接；n.胶接处，粘接处 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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labyrinths
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| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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55
inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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65
wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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66
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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67
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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68
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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69
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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70
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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71
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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72
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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73
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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75
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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76
ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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77
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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80
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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82
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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