If ever they meant to break up the Partnership1, this would've been the time. " 'Twas all so out of the ordinary," Mason declares, "that it must have been intended,— an act of Him so strange, His purposes unknown."
"Eeh,— that is, I'm not sure which one tha mean."
Mason instantly narrows his eyes. "Who else could— oh. Oh, I see. Hum.. .a common Belief among your People?"
"All thah' Coal-Mining, I guess."
In the crucial moments, neither Mason nor Dixon had fail'd the other. Each had met the other's Gaze for a slight moment before Duty again claim'd them,— the Vapors2 rising from the Wounds of dying Sailors smoothing out what was not essential for each to understand.
For the moment, they know they must stand as one, tho' not always how. Arriv'd in Plymouth Dockyard, drafting the letter to the Royal Soci?ety, thro' the dark hours, each keeps rejecting the other's ideas. The Candles tremble with the Vehemence3 of their Speech. They are well the other side of Exhaustion4, and neither has bother'd to keep his defensive5 works mann'd against the other. With what they've lately been through together, it seems quite beside the point for them to do so. At least they are past that. Each knows, that is, exactly how brave and how cowardly the other was when the crisis came.
"Say, 'If You might arrange for us each to have a Regiment6,— a Frigate7 being impractical8, given our Ignorance of how to sail, much less fight, one,— we should be happy to proceed to war upon any people, in any quarter of the Globe His Majesty9 should be pleas'd to send us to,—
"Dixon, think,— what if they should say yes? Do you want to com?mand a Regiment?"
"Why,... say, 'tis nothing I'd rule out, at this stage of my life,—
"You're a Quaker, you're not suppos'd to believe in War."
"Technically10 no longer a Quaker, as they expell'd me back at the end of October from Raby Meeting, just before I came to London,— so I guess now I may kill anyone I like...?"
Mason pretends interest, having already heard about it in his briefing by the R.S. "And will any personal difficulties attend that, do you think?"
"We've all of us,— the same Quaker Families, Dixons, Hunters and Rayltons in particular, again and again,— a long history in Durham of being toss'd out for anything, be it drinking, getting married by a Priest, working for the Royal Society, whatever someone didn't like. To some Christians11, Disfellowship is a hard Blow, for they have been allow'd to know only others of their Congregation. But Quakers are a bit matier, the idea being to look for something of God in ev'ryone...? The Denomina?tion's less important. Ah mean, Ah've met Anglicans before...?"
"I wonder'd why you never stare at me much."
"Eeh, Ah've even seen the Bishop12 of Durham. One of the very biggest among thee, correct? A Prince in his own lands. No,— I've no problem with Anglicans."
"Thank ye. I welcome the return of at least an Hour's more Sleep each Night otherwise spent in Fretfulness upon the Question. Be assur'd, I have run across the odd Quaker as well,— Mr. Bird of course coming to mind,— and have ever found you Folk as peaceable in your private Dis?course, as you are Assertive13 in your Publick Doings."
"That's what people say, for fair."
There they sit, drinking up their liquor allowance, feeling no easier for it, trying to understand what in Christ's Name happen'd out in the Channel. Neither is making much sense. They will talk seriously for half an hour about something completely stupid, then one will take offense14 and fall silent, or go off somewhere to try to sleep. Out in the hall they keep running into each other, Wraiths15 in night-clothes.
"What if we said," Mason appearing to have given it some Thought, ' 'In view of an apparent Design, by well-known Gentlemen, to put me in harm's way—
" 'Huz.' "
"If you like. — exposing an undermann'd Warship16 to a certain Drub?bing, Questions must emerge. Why could not the French Admiralty have been advis'd, via Father Boscovich or another available messenger, of the Seahorse's approximate Route, her destination and purpose?''
"Eeh, Mason, come, come. They would have attack'd anyway. Why would they believe any story from the English, be the Messenger King Louie Himself?"
"A little Sixth-Rate! What possible mischief17 could it get into? What possible threat to France?"
" Tis call'd, in that jabber18 over there, Une Affaire des Frégates,— 'An Affair of the Frigates19.' "
"Of Forces less visible, I fear."
"Here,— any more of that Golden Virginian about? 'Twill settle our wits." In what each is surpriz'd to note for the first time as a companion?able Silence, they prepare Pipes, find a Dish in the Cupboard and a live Coal in the Fire, and light up.
Wrapt tightly, as within Vacuum-Hemispheres, lies the Unspoken,— the concentration of Terror and death of but two afternoons ago, tran-spir'd without one word, in brute20 Contempt for any language but that of winds and masses, cries and blood. Impenetrable, it calls up Questions whose Awkwardness has only increas'd as the Astronomers21 have come to understand there may be no way of ever finding the Answers.
"Did the Captain signal? Did they read it, and attack despite it?"
"Or because of it...?"
It seems not to belong in either of their lives. "Was there a mistake in the Plan of the Day? Did we get a piece of someone else's History, a frag?ment spall'd off of some Great Moment,— perhaps the late Engagement at Quiberon Bay,— such as now and then may fly into the ev'ryday paths of lives less dramatick? And there we are, with our Wigs22 askew23."
"Happen," Dixon contributes in turn, "we were never meant at all to go to Bencoolen,— someone needed a couple of Martyrs24, and we incon?veniently surviv'd...?”
"What a terrible thing to say."
''Terrible,' well, as to 'Terrible'..." And what they cannot speak, some of it not yet, some of it never, resumes breathless Sovereignty in the wax-lit Rooms.
In swift reply comes a Letter of Reproach and Threat from the Royal Society. Someday Mason and Dixon may not dream as often of the Battle with the Frenchman,— but this Letter they will go back to again and again, unable to release it.
"Not even the courtesy,— Damme! of a personal Reply,— 'tis rather the final draft of some faceless committee. To my Heart's Cry, my appeal to Bradley for Guidance, Apprentice25 to master, confiding26 can?didly my fears, trusting in his Discretion,— to a four years' Adjunct, his Protege even longer,— instead of Comfort or Advice, he betrays my Confession27 to some Gang of initial'd Scoundrels, leaving them the task of bringing us to the level of Fear needed to get us back aboard that dreadful Ship."
"Yet others," carefully, "might hear in it a distinct Voice, indeed quite full of personal Heat."
Mason shrugs28. "Who, then? 'Twas Morton his Signature,— " his Eye?brows rak'd a shade too high for it to be other than a request to let this go.
"Ordinarily, Ah'd allow it to depart upon the Tides of Fortune...?" says Dixon, "- - but as I'm included in this charge of Cowardice29, if it be a Matter between thee and Dr. Bradley, why, I hope tha'd tell me some?what of it...?"
"You suppose this is Bradley's voice? I think not, for I know him,— Bradley cannot write like this, even simple social notes give him trouble. '...Whenever their circumstances, now uncertain and eventual30, shall happen to be reduced to Certainty.' Not likely."
"Eeh, thah's deep...? 'Reduc'd.' "
"As if...there were no single Destiny," puzzles Mason, "but rather a choice among a great many possible ones, their number steadily31 dimin?ishing each time a Choice be made, till at last 'reduc'd,' to the events that do happen to us, as we pass among 'em, thro' Time unredeemable,— much as a Lens, indeed, may receive all the Light from some vast celes?tial Field of View, and reduce it to a single Point. Suggests an optical person,— your Mr. Bird, perhaps.”
"Then tha may rest easy, mayn't thee, if it's I who's being reprov'd by my Mentor32, for a change...?"
Thus sleeplessly33 on both continue to rattle34, whilst Plymouth reels merrily all 'round them, well illuminated35, as a-scurry, thro' the night.
"Lightning doesn't strike twice," suggests Dixon.
"Correct. It strikes once, as it just lately did for me out there. Now 'tis your turn."
"Hold, hold...? Are tha sure of thah'...?”
收听单词发音 |
1
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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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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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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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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frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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impractical
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| adj.不现实的，不实用的，不切实际的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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wraiths
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| n.幽灵( wraith的名词复数 )；（传说中人在将死或死后不久的）显形阴魂 | |
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warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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jabber
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| v.快而不清楚地说；n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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frigates
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| n.快速军舰( frigate的名词复数 ) | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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28
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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sleeplessly
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| adv.失眠地 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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