It was a good-sized wine-cellar, with very little wine in it; only one full bin1 could I discover. The bins2 themselves lined but two of the walls, and most of them were covered in with cobwebs, close-drawn like mosquito-curtains. The ceiling was all too low: torpid3 spiders hung in disreputable parlors4, dead to the eye, but loathsomely5 alive at an involuntary touch. Rats scuttled6 when we entered, and I had not been long alone when they returned to bear me company. I am not a natural historian, and had rather face a lion with the right rifle than a rat with a stick. My jailers, however, had been kind enough to leave me a lantern, which, set upon the ground (like my mattress7), would afford a warning, if not a protection, against the worst; unless I slept; and as yet I had not lain down. The rascals8 had been considerate enough, more especially Santos, who had a new manner for me with his revised opinion of my character; it was a manner almost as courtly as that which had embellished9 his relations with Eva Denison, and won him my early regard at sea. Moreover, it was at the suggestion of Santos that they had detained me in the hall, for much-needed meat and drink, on the way down. Thereafter they had conducted me through the book-lined door of my undoing10, down stone stairs leading to three cellar doors, one of which they had double-locked upon me.
As soon as I durst I was busy with this door; but to no purpose; it was a slab12 of solid oak, hung on hinges as massive as its lock. It galled13 me to think that but two doors stood between me and the secret tunnel to the sea: for one of the other two must lead to it. The first, however, was all beyond me, and I very soon gave it up. There was also a very small grating which let in a very little fresh air: the massive foundations had been tunnelled in one place; a rude alcove14 was the result, with this grating at the end and top of it, some seven feet above the earth floor. Even had I been able to wrench15 away the bars, it would have availed me nothing, since the aperture16 formed the segment of a circle whose chord was but a very few inches long. I had nevertheless a fancy for seeing the stars once more and feeling the breath of heaven upon my bandaged temples, which impelled17 me to search for that which should add a cubit to my stature18. And at a glance I descried19 two packing-cases, rather small and squat20, but the pair of them together the very thing for me. To my amazement21, however, I could at first move neither one nor the other of these small boxes. Was it that I was weak as water, or that they were heavier than lead? At last I managed to get one of them in my arms—only to drop it with a thud. A side started; a thin sprinkling of yellow dust glittered on the earth. I fetched the lantern: it was gold-dust from Bendigo or from Ballarat.
To me there was horror unspeakable, yet withal a morbid22 fascination23, in the spectacle of the actual booty for which so many lives had been sacrificed before my eyes. Minute followed minute in which I looked at nothing, and could think of nothing, but the stolen bullion24 at my feet; then I gathered what of the dust I could, pocketed it in pinches to hide my meddlesomeness25, and blew the rest away. The box had dropped very much where I had found it; it had exhausted26 my strength none the less, and I was glad at last to lie down on the mattress, and to wind my body in Rattray's blankets.
I shuddered27 at the thought of sleep: the rats became so lively the moment I lay still. One ventured so near as to sit up close to the lantern; the light showed its fat white belly28, and the thing itself was like a dog begging, as big to my disgusted eyes. And yet, in the midst of these horrors (to me as bad as any that had preceded them), nature overcame me, and for a space my torments29 ceased.
“He is aslip,” a soft voice said.
“Don't wake the poor devil,” said another.
“But I weesh to spik with 'im. Senhor Cole! Senhor Cole!”
I opened my eyes. Santos looked of uncanny stature in the low yellow light, from my pillow close to the earth. Harris turned away at my glance; he carried a spade, and began digging near the boxes without more ado, by the light of a second lantern set on one of them: his back was to me from this time on. Santos shrugged30 a shoulder towards the captain as he opened a campstool, drew up his trousers, and seated himself with much deliberation at the foot of my mattress.
“When you 'ave treasure,” said he, “the better thing is to bury it, Senhor Cole. Our young friend upstairs begs to deefer; but he is slipping; it is peety he takes such quantity of brandy! It is leetle wikness of you Engleesh; we in Portugal never touch it, save as a liqueur; therefore we require less slip. Friend squire31 upstairs is at this moment no better than a porker. Have I made mistake? I thought it was the same word in both languages; but I am glad to see you smile, Senhor Cole; that is good sign. I was going to say, he is so fast aslip up there, that he would not hear us if we were to shoot each other dead!”
And he gave me his paternal32 smile, benevolent33, humorous, reassuring34; but I was no longer reassured35; nor did I greatly care any more what happened to me. There is a point of last, as well as one of least resistance, and I had reached both points at once.
“Have you shot him dead?” I inquired, thinking that if he had, this would precipitate36 my turn. But he was far from angry; the parchment face crumpled37 into tolerant smiles; the venerable head shook a playful reproval, as he threw away the cigarette that I am tired of mentioning, and put the last touch to a fresh one with his tongue.
“What question?” said he; “reely, Senhor Cole! But you are quite right: I would have shot him, or cut his troth” (and he shrugged indifference38 on the point), “if it had not been for you; and yet it would have been your fault! I nid not explain; the poseetion must have explained itself already; besides, it is past. With you two against us—but it is past. You see, I have no longer the excellent Jose. You broke his leg, bad man. I fear it will be necessary to destroy 'im.” Santos made a pause; then inquired if he shocked me.
“Not a bit,” said I, neither truly nor untruly; “you interest me.” And that he did.
“You see,” he continued, “I have not the respect of you Engleesh for 'uman life. We will not argue it. I have at least some respect for prejudice. In my youth I had myself such prejudices; but one loses them on the Zambesi. You cannot expect one to set any value upon the life of a black nigger; and when you have keeled a great many Kaffirs, by the lash39, with the crocodiles, or what-not, then a white man or two makes less deeference. I acknowledge there were too many on board that sheep; but what was one to do? You have your Engleesh proverb about the dead men and the stories; it was necessary to make clin swip. You see the result.”
He shrugged again towards the boxes; but this time, being reminded of them (I supposed), he rose and went over to see how Harris was progressing. The captain had never looked round; neither did he look at Santos. “A leetle dipper,” I heard the latter say, “and, perhaps, a few eenches—” but I lost the last epithet40. It followed a glance over the shoulder in my direction, and immediately preceded the return of Santos to his camp-stool.
“Yes, it is always better to bury treasure,” said he once more; but his tone was altered; it was more contemplative; and many smoke-rings came from the shrunk lips before another word; but through them all, his dark eyes, dull with age, were fixed41 upon me.
“You are a treasure!” he exclaimed at last, softly enough, but quickly and emphatically for him, and with a sudden and most diabolical42 smile.
“So you are going to bury me?”
I had suspected it when first I saw the spade; then not; but since the visit to the hole I had made up my mind to it.
“Bury you? No, not alive,” said Santos, in his playfully reproving tone. “It would be necessary to deeg so dip!” he added through his few remaining teeth.
“Well,” I said, “you'll swing for it. That's something.”
Santos smiled again, benignantly enough this time: in contemplation also: as an artist smiles upon his work. I was his!
“You live town,” said he; “no one knows where you go. You come down here; no one knows who you are. Your dear friend squire locks you up for the night, but dreenks too much and goes to slip with the key in his pocket; it is there when he wakes; but the preesoner, where is he? He is gone, vanished, escaped in the night, and, like the base fabreec of your own poet's veesion, he lives no trace—is it trace?—be'ind! A leetle earth is so easily bitten down; a leetle more is so easily carried up into the garden; and a beet43 of nice strong wire might so easily be found in a cellar, and afterwards in the lock! No, Senhor Cole, I do not expect to 'ang. My schims have seldom one seengle flaw. There was just one in the Lady Jermyn; there was—Senhor Cole! If there is one this time, and you will be so kind as to point it out, I will—I will run the reesk of shooting you instead of—”
A pinch of his baggy44 throat, between the fingers and thumbs of both hands, foreshadowed a cleaner end; and yet I could look at him; nay45, it was more than I could do not to look upon that bloodless face, with the two dry blots46 upon the parchment, that were never withdrawn47 from mine.
“No you won't, messmate! If it's him or us for it, let a bullet do it, and let it do it quick, you bloody48 Spaniard! You can't do the other without me, and my part's done.”
Harris was my only hope. I had seen this from the first, but my appeal I had been keeping to the very end. And now he was leaving me before a word would come! Santos had gone over to my grave, and there was Harris at the door!
“It is not dip enough,” said the Portuguese50.
“It's as deep as I mean to make it, with you sittin' there talkin' about it.”
And the door stood open.
“Captain!” I screamed. “For Christ's sake, captain!”
He stood there, trembling, yet even now not looking my way.
“Did you ever see a man hanged?” asked Santos, with a vile51 eye for each of us. “I once hanged fifteen in a row; abominable52 thifs. And I once poisoned nearly a hundred at one banquet; an untrustworthy tribe; but the hanging was the worse sight and the worse death. Heugh! There was one man—he was no stouter53 than you are captain—”
But the door slammed; we heard the captain on the stairs; there was a rustle54 from the leaves outside, and then a silence that I shall not attempt to describe.
And, indeed, I am done with this description: as I live to tell the tale (or spoil it, if I choose) I will make shorter work of this particular business than I found it at the time. Perverse55 I may be in old age as in my youth; but on that my agony—my humiliating agony—I decline to dwell. I suffer it afresh as I write. There are the cobwebs on the ceiling, a bloated spider crawling in one: a worse monster is gloating over me: those dull eyes of his, and my own pistol-barrel, cover me in the lamp-light. The crucifix pin is awry56 in his cravat58; that is because he has offered it me to kiss. As a refinement59 (I feel sure) my revolver is not cocked; and the hammer goes up—up—
He missed me because a lantern was flashed into his eyes through the grating. He wasted the next ball in firing wildly at the light. And the last chamber's load became suddenly too precious for my person; for there were many voices overhead; there were many feet upon the stairs.
Harris came first—head-first—saw me still living as he reeled—hurled himself upon the boxes and one of these into the hole—all far quicker than my pen can write it. The manoeuvre60, being the captain's, explained itself: on his heels trod Rattray, with one who brought me to my feet like the call of silver trumpets61.
“The house is surrounded,” says the squire, very quick and quiet; “is this your doing, Cole?”
“I wish it was,” said I; “but I can't complain; it's saved my life.” And I looked at Santos, standing62 dignified63 and alert, my still smoking pistol in his hand.
“Two things to do,” says Rattray—“I don't care which.” He strode across the cellar and pulled at the one full bin; something slid out, it was a binful of empty bottles, and this time they were allowed to crash upon the floor; the squire stood pointing to a manhole at the back of the bin. “That's one alternative,” said he; “but it will mean leaving this much stuff at least,” pointing to the boxes, “and probably all the rest at the other end. The other thing's to stop and fight!”
“I fight,” said Santos, stalking to the door. “Have you no more ammunition64 for me, friend Cole? Then I must live you alive; adios, senhor!”
Harris cast a wistful look towards the manhole, not in cowardice65, I fancy, but in sudden longing66 for the sea, the longing of a poor devil of a sailor-man doomed67 to die ashore68. I am still sorry to remember that Rattray judged him differently. “Come on, skipper,” said he; “it's all or none aboard the lugger, and I think it will be none. Up you go; wait a second in the room above, and I'll find you an old cutlass. I shan't be longer.” He turned to me with a wry57 smile. “We're not half-armed,” he said; “they've caught us fairly on the hop49; it should be fun! Good-by, Cole; I wish you'd had another round for that revolver. Good-by, Eva!”
And he held out his hand to our love, who had been watching him all this time with eyes of stone; but now she turned her back upon him without a word. His face changed; the stormlight of passion and remorse69 played upon it for an instant; he made a step towards her, wheeled abruptly70, and took me by the shoulder instead.
“Take care of her, Cole,” said he. “Whatever happens—take care of her.”
I caught him at the foot of the stairs. I do not defend what I did. But I had more ammunition; a few wadded bullets, caps, and powder-charges, loose in a jacket pocket; and I thrust them into one of his, upon a sudden impulse, not (as I think) altogether unaccountable, albeit71 (as I have said) so indefensible.
My back was hardly turned an instant. I had left a statue of unforgiving coldness. I started round to catch in my arms a half-fainting, grief-stricken form, shaken with sobs72 that it broke my heart to hear. I placed her on the camp-stool. I knelt down and comforted her as well as I could, stroking her hands, my arm about her heaving shoulders, with the gold-brown hair streaming over them. Such hair as it was! So much longer than I had dreamt. So soft—so fine—my soul swam with the sight and touch of it. Well for me that there broke upon us from above such a sudden din11 as turned my hot blood cold! A wild shout of surprise; an ensuing roar of defiance73; shrieks74 and curses; yells of rage and pain; and pistol-shot after pistol-shot as loud as cannon75 in the confined space.
I know now that the battle in the hall was a very brief affair; while it lasted I had no sense of time; minutes or moments, they were (God forgive me!) some of the very happiest in all my life. My joy was as profound as it was also selfish and incongruous. The villains76 were being routed; of that there could be no doubt or question. I hoped Rattray might escape, but for the others no pity stirred in my heart, and even my sneaking77 sympathy with the squire could take nothing from the joy that was in my heart. Eva Denison was free. I was free. Our oppressors would trouble us no more. We were both lonely; we were both young; we had suffered together and for each other. And here she lay in my arms, her head upon my shoulder, her soft bosom78 heaving on my own! My blood ran hot and cold by turns. I forgot everything but our freedom and my love. I forgot my sufferings, as I would have you all forget them. I am not to be pitied. I have been in heaven on earth. I was there that night, in my great bodily weakness, and in the midst of blood-shed, death, and crime.
“They have stopped!” cried Eva suddenly. “It is over! Oh, if he is dead!”
And she sat upright, with bright eyes starting from a deathly face. I do not think she knew that she had been in my arms at all: any more than I knew that the firing had ceased before she told me. Excited voices were still raised overhead; but some sounded distant, yet more distinct, coming through the grating from the garden; and none were voices that we knew. One poor wretch79, on the other hand, we heard plainly groaning80 to his death; and we looked in each other's eyes with the same thought.
“That's Harris,” said I, with, I fear, but little compassion81 in my tone or in my heart just then.
“Where are the others?” cried Eva piteously.
“God knows,” said I; “they may be done for, too.”
“If they are!”
“It's better than the death they would have lived to die.”
“But only one of them was a wilful82 murderer! Oh, Mr. Cole—Mr. Cole—go and see what has happened; come back and tell me! I dare not come. I will stay here and pray for strength to bear whatever news you may bring me. Go quickly. I will—wait—and pray!”
So I left the poor child on her knees in that vile cellar, white face and straining hands uplifted to the foul83 ceiling, sweet lips quivering with prayer, eyelids84 reverently85 lowered, and the swift tears flowing from beneath them, all in the yellow light of the lantern that stood burning by her side. How different a picture from that which awaited me overhead!
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1
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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bins
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| n.大储藏箱( bin的名词复数 )；宽口箱（如面包箱，垃圾箱等）v.扔掉，丢弃( bin的第三人称单数 ) | |
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torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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parlors
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| 客厅( parlor的名词复数 )； 起居室； （旅馆中的）休息室； （通常用来构成合成词）店 | |
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loathsomely
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| adv.令人讨厌地，可厌地 | |
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scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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galled
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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bullion
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| n.金条，银条 | |
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meddlesomeness
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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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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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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40
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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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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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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43
beet
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| n.甜菜；甜菜根 | |
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baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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45
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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46
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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47
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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48
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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49
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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50
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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51
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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52
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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53
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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54
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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55
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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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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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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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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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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