During this dismal2 night, it may be remarked that a man would conclude that it was really the intention of the seven mad gods to drown him, despite the abominable3 injustice4 of it. For it was certainly an abominable injustice to drown a man who had worked so hard, so hard. The man felt it would be a crime most unnatural5. Other people had drowned at sea since galleys6 swarmed7 with painted sails, but still——
When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, and that she feels she would not maim8 the universe by disposing of him, he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that there are no bricks and no temples. Any visible expression of nature would surely be pelleted with his jeers9.
Then, if there be no tangible10 thing to hoot11 he feels, perhaps, the desire to confront a personification and indulge in pleas, bowed to one knee, and with hands supplicant12, saying: "Yes, but I love myself."
A high cold star on a winter's night is the word he feels that she says to him. Thereafter he knows the pathos13 of his situation.
The men in the dingey had not discussed these matters, but each had, no doubt, reflected upon them in silence and according to his mind. There was seldom any expression upon their faces save the general one of complete weariness. Speech was devoted14 to the business of the boat.
To chime the notes of his emotion, a verse mysteriously entered the correspondent's head. He had even forgotten that he had forgotten this verse, but it suddenly was in his mind.
"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
But a comrade stood beside him, and he took that comrade's hand,
And he said: 'I shall never see my own, my native land.'"
In his childhood, the correspondent had been made acquainted with the fact that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, but he had never regarded the fact as important. Myriads16 of his school-fellows had informed him of the soldier's plight17, but the dinning18 had naturally ended by making him perfectly19 indifferent. He had never considered it his affair that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, nor had it appeared to him as a matter for sorrow. It was less to him than the breaking of a pencil's point.
Now, however, it quaintly20 came to him as a human, living thing. It was no longer merely a picture of a few throes in the breast of a poet, meanwhile drinking tea and warming his feet at the grate; it was an actuality—stern, mournful, and fine.
The correspondent plainly saw the soldier. He lay on the sand with his feet out straight and still. While his pale left hand was upon his chest in an attempt to thwart21 the going of his life, the blood came between his fingers. In the far Algerian distance, a city of low square forms was set against a sky that was faint with the last sunset hues22. The correspondent, plying23 the oars24 and dreaming of the slow and slower movements of the lips of the soldier, was moved by a profound and perfectly impersonal26 comprehension. He was sorry for the soldier of the Legion who lay dying in Algiers.
The thing which had followed the boat and waited, had evidently grown bored at the delay. There was no longer to be heard the slash27 of the cut-water, and there was no longer the flame of the long trail. The light in the north still glimmered28, but it was apparently29 no nearer to the boat. Sometimes the boom of the surf rang in the correspondent's ears, and he turned the craft seaward then and rowed harder. Southward, some one had evidently built a watch-fire on the beach. It was too low and too far to be seen, but it made a shimmering30, roseate reflection upon the bluff31 back of it, and this could be discerned from the boat. The wind came stronger, and sometimes a wave suddenly raged out like a mountain-cat, and there was to be seen the sheen and sparkle of a broken crest32.
The captain, in the bow, moved on his water-jar and sat erect33. "Pretty long night," he observed to the correspondent. He looked at the shore. "Those life-saving people take their time."
"Did you see that shark playing around?"
"Yes, I saw him. He was a big fellow, all right."
"Wish I had known you were awake."
"Billie!" There was a slow and gradual disentanglement. "Billie, will you spell me?"
"Sure," said the oiler.
As soon as the correspondent touched the cold comfortable sea-water in the bottom of the boat, and had huddled35 close to the cook's life-belt he was deep in sleep, despite the fact that his teeth played all the popular airs. This sleep was so good to him that it was but a moment before he heard a voice call his name in a tone that demonstrated the last stages of exhaustion36. "Will you spell me?"
"Sure, Billie."
The light in the north had mysteriously vanished, but the correspondent took his course from the wide-awake captain.
Later in the night they took the boat farther out to sea, and the captain directed the cook to take one oar25 at the stern and keep the boat facing the seas. He was to call out if he should hear the thunder of the surf. This plan enabled the oiler and the correspondent to get respite37 together. "We'll give those boys a chance to get into shape again," said the captain. They curled down and, after a few preliminary chatterings and trembles, slept once more the dead sleep. Neither knew they had bequeathed to the cook the company of another shark, or perhaps the same shark.
As the boat caroused38 on the waves, spray occasionally bumped over the side and gave them a fresh soaking, but this had no power to break their repose39. The ominous40 slash of the wind and the water affected41 them as it would have affected mummies.
"Boys," said the cook, with the notes of every reluctance42 in his voice, "she's drifted in pretty close. I guess one of you had better take her to sea again." The correspondent, aroused, heard the crash of the toppled crests43.
As he was rowing, the captain gave him some whisky-and-water, and this steadied the chills out of him. "If I ever get ashore44 and anybody shows me even a photograph of an oar——"
At last there was a short conversation.
"Billie.... Billie, will you spell me?"
"Sure," said the oiler.
点击收听单词发音
1 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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2 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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3 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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4 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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5 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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6 galleys | |
n.平底大船,战舰( galley的名词复数 );(船上或航空器上的)厨房 | |
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7 swarmed | |
密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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8 maim | |
v.使残废,使不能工作,使伤残 | |
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9 jeers | |
n.操纵帆桁下部(使其上下的)索具;嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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10 tangible | |
adj.有形的,可触摸的,确凿的,实际的 | |
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11 hoot | |
n.鸟叫声,汽车的喇叭声; v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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12 supplicant | |
adj.恳求的n.恳求者 | |
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13 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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14 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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15 dearth | |
n.缺乏,粮食不足,饥谨 | |
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16 myriads | |
n.无数,极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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17 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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18 dinning | |
vt.喧闹(din的现在分词形式) | |
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19 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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20 quaintly | |
adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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21 thwart | |
v.阻挠,妨碍,反对;adj.横(断的) | |
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22 hues | |
色彩( hue的名词复数 ); 色调; 信仰; 观点 | |
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23 plying | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的现在分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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24 oars | |
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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25 oar | |
n.桨,橹,划手;v.划行 | |
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26 impersonal | |
adj.无个人感情的,与个人无关的,非人称的 | |
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27 slash | |
vi.大幅度削减;vt.猛砍,尖锐抨击,大幅减少;n.猛砍,斜线,长切口,衣衩 | |
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28 glimmered | |
v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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30 shimmering | |
v.闪闪发光,发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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31 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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32 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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33 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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34 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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35 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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36 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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37 respite | |
n.休息,中止,暂缓 | |
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38 caroused | |
v.痛饮,闹饮欢宴( carouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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40 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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41 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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42 reluctance | |
n.厌恶,讨厌,勉强,不情愿 | |
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43 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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44 ashore | |
adv.在(向)岸上,上岸 | |
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