But many a night I did not knock off work until midnight. On occasion I worked eighteen and twenty hours on a stretch. Once I worked at my machine for thirty-six consecutive3 hours. And there were weeks on end when I never knocked off work earlier than eleven o'clock, got home and in bed at half after midnight, and was called at half-past five to dress, eat, walk to work, and be at my machine at seven o'clock whistle blow.
No moments here to be stolen for my beloved books. And what had John Barleycorn to do with such strenuous4, Stoic5 toil6 of a lad just turned fifteen? He had everything to do with it. Let me show you. I asked myself if this were the meaning of life—to be a work-beast? I knew of no horse in the city of Oakland that worked the hours I worked. If this were living, I was entirely7 unenamoured of it. I remembered my skiff, lying idle and accumulating barnacles at the boat-wharf; I remembered the wind that blew every day on the bay, the sunrises and sunsets I never saw; the bite of the salt air in my nostrils8, the bite of the salt water on my flesh when I plunged9 overside; I remembered all the beauty and the wonder and the sense-delights of the world denied me. There was only one way to escape my deadening toil. I must get out and away on the water. I must earn my bread on the water. And the way of the water led inevitably10 to John Barleycorn. I did not know this. And when I did learn it, I was courageous11 enough not to retreat back to my bestial12 life at the machine.
I wanted to be where the winds of adventure blew. And the winds of adventure blew the oyster13 pirate sloops14 up and down San Francisco Bay, from raided oyster-beds and fights at night on shoal and flat, to markets in the morning against city wharves16, where peddlers and saloon-keepers came down to buy. Every raid on an oyster-bed was a felony. The penalty was State imprisonment17, the stripes and the lockstep. And what of that? The men in stripes worked a shorter day than I at my machine. And there was vastly more romance in being an oyster pirate or a convict than in being a machine slave. And behind it all, behind all of me with youth abubble, whispered Romance, Adventure.
So I interviewed my Mammy Jennie, my old nurse at whose black breast I had suckled. She was more prosperous than my folks. She was nursing sick people at a good weekly wage. Would she lend her "white child" the money? WOULD SHE? What she had was mine.
Then I sought out French Frank, the oyster pirate, who wanted to sell, I had heard, his sloop15, the Razzle Dazzle. I found him lying at anchor on the Alameda side of the estuary18 near the Webster Street bridge, with visitors aboard, whom he was entertaining with afternoon wine. He came on deck to talk business. He was willing to sell. But it was Sunday. Besides, he had guests. On the morrow he would make out the bill of sale and I could enter into possession. And in the meantime I must come below and meet his friends. They were two sisters, Mamie and Tess; a Mrs. Hadley, who chaperoned them; "Whisky" Bob, a youthful oyster pirate of sixteen; and "Spider" Healey, a black-whiskered wharf-rat of twenty. Mamie, who was Spider's niece, was called the Queen of the Oyster Pirates, and, on occasion, presided at their revels19. French Frank was in love with her, though I did not know it at the time; and she steadfastly20 refused to marry him.
French Frank poured a tumbler of red wine from a big demijohn to drink to our transaction. I remembered the red wine of the Italian rancho, and shuddered21 inwardly. Whisky and beer were not quite so repulsive22. But the Queen of the Oyster Pirates was looking at me, a part-emptied glass in her own hand. I had my pride. If I was only fifteen, at least I could not show myself any less a man than she. Besides, there were her sister, and Mrs. Hadley, and the young oyster pirate, and the whiskered wharf-rat, all with glasses in their hands. Was I a milk-and-water sop23? No; a thousand times no, and a thousand glasses no. I downed the tumblerful like a man.
French Frank was elated by the sale, which I had bound with a twenty-dollar goldpiece. He poured more wine. I had learned my strong head and stomach, and I was certain I could drink with them in a temperate24 way and not poison myself for a week to come. I could stand as much as they; and besides, they had already been drinking for some time.
We got to singing. Spider sang "The Boston Burglar" and "Black Lulu." The Queen sang "Then I Wisht I Were a Little Bird." And her sister Tess sang "Oh, Treat My Daughter Kindily." The fun grew fast and furious. I found myself able to miss drinks without being noticed or called to account. Also, standing25 in the companionway, head and shoulders out and glass in hand, I could fling the wine overboard.
I reasoned something like this: It is a queerness of these people that they like this vile-tasting wine. Well, let them. I cannot quarrel with their tastes. My manhood, according to their queer notions, must compel me to appear to like this wine. Very well. I shall so appear. But I shall drink no more than is unavoidable.
And the Queen began to make love to me, the latest recruit to the oyster pirate fleet, and no mere26 hand, but a master and owner. She went upon deck to take the air, and took me with her. She knew, of course, but I never dreamed, how French Frank was raging down below. Then Tess joined us, sitting on the cabin; and Spider, and Bob; and at the last, Mrs. Hadley and French Frank. And we sat there, glasses in hand, and sang, while the big demijohn went around; and I was the only strictly27 sober one.
And I enjoyed it as no one of them was able to enjoy it. Here, in this atmosphere of bohemianism, I could not but contrast the scene with my scene of the day before, sitting at my machine, in the stifling28, shut-in air, repeating, endlessly repeating, at top speed, my series of mechanical motions. And here I sat now, glass in hand, in warm-glowing camaraderie29, with the oyster pirates, adventurers who refused to be slaves to petty routine, who flouted30 restrictions31 and the law, who carried their lives and their liberty in their hands. And it was through John Barleycorn that I came to join this glorious company of free souls, unashamed and unafraid.
And the afternoon seabreeze blew its tang into my lungs, and curled the waves in mid-channel. Before it came the scow schooners32, wing-and-wing, blowing their horns for the drawbridges to open. Red-stacked tugs33 tore by, rocking the Razzle Dazzle in the waves of their wake. A sugar barque towed from the "boneyard" to sea. The sun-wash was on the crisping water, and life was big. And Spider sang:
"Oh, it's Lulu, black Lulu, my darling,
Oh, it's where have you been so long?
Been layin' in jail,
There it was, the smack36 and slap of the spirit of revolt, of adventure, of romance, of the things forbidden and done defiantly37 and grandly. And I knew that on the morrow I would not go back to my machine at the cannery. To-morrow I would be an oyster pirate, as free a freebooter as the century and the waters of San Francisco Bay would permit. Spider had already agreed to sail with me as my crew of one, and, also, as cook while I did the deck work. We would outfit38 our grub and water in the morning, hoist39 the big mainsail (which was a bigger piece of canvas than any I had ever sailed under), and beat our way out the estuary on the first of the seabreeze and the last of the ebb40. Then we would slack sheets, and on the first of the flood run down the bay to the Asparagus Islands, where we would anchor miles off shore. And at last my dream would be realised: I would sleep upon the water. And next morning I would wake upon the water; and thereafter all my days and nights would be on the water.
And the Queen asked me to row her ashore41 in my skiff, when at sunset French Frank prepared to take his guests ashore. Nor did I catch the significance of his abrupt42 change of plan when he turned the task of rowing his skiff over to Whisky Bob, himself remaining on board the sloop. Nor did I understand Spider's grinning side-remark to me: "Gee43! There's nothin' slow about YOU." How could it possibly enter my boy's head that a grizzled man of fifty should be jealous of me?
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1
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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2
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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3
consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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6
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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7
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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8
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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10
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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11
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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12
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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13
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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14
sloops
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| n.单桅纵帆船( sloop的名词复数 ) | |
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15
sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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16
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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17
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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18
estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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19
revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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20
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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21
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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22
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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sop
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| n.湿透的东西，懦夫；v.浸，泡，浸湿 | |
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24
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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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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26
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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28
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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29
camaraderie
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| n.同志之爱，友情 | |
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30
flouted
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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32
schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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33
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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35
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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36
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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37
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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38
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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39
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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40
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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41
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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42
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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43
gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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