Mrs Potter said this angrily, and with much emphasis, as she seized her son by the arm and dragged him out of a pool of dirty water, into which he had tumbled.
“Always at mischief of one sort or another, he is,” continued Mrs Potter, with increasing wrath2, “morning, noon, and night—he is; tumblin’ about an’ smashin’ things for ever he does; he’ll break my heart at last—he will. There: take that!”
“That,” which poor little Tommy was desired to take, was a sounding box on the ear, accompanied by a violent shake of the arm which would have drawn3 that limb out of its socket4 if the child’s bones and muscles had not been very tightly strung together.
Mrs Potter was a woman of large body and small brain. In respect of reasoning power, she was little better than the wooden cuckoo which came out periodically from the interior of the clock that stood over her own fireplace and announced the hours. She entertained settled convictions on a few subjects, in regard to which she resembled a musical box. If you set her going on any of these, she would harp5 away until she had played the tune6 out, and then begin over again; but she never varied7. Reasons, however good, or facts, however weighty, were utterly8 powerless to penetrate9 her skull10: her “settled convictions” were not to be unsettled by any such means. Men might change their minds; philosophers might see fit to alter their opinions; weaklings of both sexes and all ages might trim their sails in accordance with the gales12 of advancing knowledge, but Mrs Potter—no: never! her colours were nailed to the mast. Like most people who unite a strong will with an empty head, she was “wiser in her own conceit14 than eleven men that can render a reason:” in brief, she was obstinate15.
One of her settled convictions was that her little son Tommy was “as full of mischief as a hegg is full of meat.” Another of these convictions was that children of all ages are tough; that it does them good to pull them about in a violent manner, at the risk even of dislocating their joints16. It mattered nothing to Mrs Potter that many of her female friends and acquaintances held a different opinion. Some of these friends suggested to her that the hearts of the poor little things were tender, as well as their muscles and bones and sinews; that children were delicate flowers, or rather buds, which required careful tending and gentle nursing. Mrs Potter’s reply was invariably, “Fiddlesticks!” she knew better. They were obstinate and self-willed little brats17 that required constant banging. She knew how to train ’em up, she did; and it was of no manner of use, it wasn’t, to talk to her upon that point.
She was right. It was of no use. As well might one have talked to the wooden cuckoo, already referred to, in Mrs Potter’s timepiece.
“Come, Martha,” said a tall, broad-shouldered, deep-voiced man at her elbow, “don’t wop the poor cheeld like that. What has he been doin’—”
Mrs Potter turned to her husband with a half angry, half ashamed glance.
“Just look at ’im, John,” she replied, pointing to the small culprit, who stood looking guilty and drenched18 with muddy water from hands to shoulders and toes to nose. “Look at ’im: see what mischief he’s always gittin’ into.”
John, whose dress bespoke19 him an artisan, and whose grave earnest face betokened21 him a kind husband and a loving father, said:—
“Tumblin’ into dirty water ain’t necessarily mischief. Come, lad, speak up for yourself. How did it happen—”
“I felled into the water when I wos layin’ the foundations, faither,” replied the boy; pointing to a small pool, in the centre of which lay a pile of bricks.
“What sort o’ foundations d’ye mean, boy?”
“The light’ouse on the Eddystun,” replied the child, with sparkling eyes.
The man smiled, and looked at his son with interest.
“That’s a brave boy,” he said, quietly patting the child’s head. “Get ’ee into th’ouse, Tommy, an’ I’ll show ’ee the right way to lay the foundations o’ the Eddystun after supper. Come, Martha,” he added, as he walked beside his wife to their dwelling22 near Plymouth Docks, “don’t be so hard on the cheeld; it’s not mischief that ails11 him. It’s engineerin’ that he’s hankerin’ after. Depend upon it, that if he is spared to grow up he’ll be a credit to us.”
Mrs Potter, being “of the same opinion still,” felt inclined to say “Fiddlesticks!” but she was a good soul, although somewhat highly spiced in the temper, and respected her husband sufficiently23 to hold her tongue.
“John;” she said, after a short silence, “you’re late to-night.”
“Yes,” answered John, with a sigh. “My work at the docks has come to an end, an’ Mr Winstanley has got all the men he requires for the repair of the light’ouse. I saw him just before he went off to the rock to-night, an’ I offered to engage, but he said he didn’t want me.”
“What?” exclaimed Mrs Potter, with sudden indignation: “didn’t want you—you who has served ’im, off an’ on, at that light’ouse for the last six year an’ more while it wor a buildin’! Ah, that’s gratitood, that is; that’s the way some folk shows wot their consciences is made of; treats you like a pair of old shoes, they does, an’ casts you off w’en you’re not wanted: hah!”
Mrs Potter entered her dwelling as she spoke20, and banged the door violently by way of giving emphasis to her remark.
“Don’t be cross, old girl,” said John, patting her shoulder: “I hope you won’t cast me off like a pair of old shoes when you’re tired of me! But, after all, I have no reason to complain. You know I have laid by a good lump of money while I was at work on the Eddystone; besides, we can’t expect men to engage us when they don’t require us; and if I had got employed, it would not have bin24 for long, being only a matter of repairs. Mr Winstanley made a strange speech, by the way, as the boat was shoving off with his men. I was standin’ close by when a friend o’ his came up an’ said he thowt the light’ouse was in a bad way an’ couldn’t last long. Mr Winstanley, who is uncommon25 sure o’ the strength of his work, he replies, says he— ‘I only wish to be there in the greatest storm that ever blew under the face of heaven, to see what the effect will be.’ Them’s his very words, an’it did seem to me an awful wish—all the more that the sky looked at the time very like as if dirty weather was brewin’ up somewhere.”
“I ’ope he may ’ave ’is wish,” said Mrs Potter firmly, “an’ that the waves may—”
“Martha!” said John, in a solemn voice, holding up his finger, “think what you’re sayin’.”
“Well, I don’t mean no ill; but, but—fetch the kettle, Tommy, d’ye hear? an’ let alone the cat’s tail, you mischievous26 little—”
“That’s a smart boy,” exclaimed John rising and catching27 the kettle from his son’s and, just as he was on the point of tumbling over a stool: “there, now let’s all have a jolly supper, and then, Tommy, I’ll show you how the real foundation of the Eddystun was laid.”
The building to which John Potter referred, and of which he gave a graphic28 account and made a careful drawing that night, for the benefit of his hopeful son, was the first lighthouse that was built on the wild and almost submerged reef of rocks lying about fourteen miles to the south-west of Plymouth harbour. The highest part of this reef, named the Eddystone, is only a few feet above water at high tide, and as it lies in deep water exposed to the full swell29 of the ocean, the raging of the sea over it in stormy weather is terrible beyond conception.
Lying as it does in the track of vessels30 coasting up and down the English Channel, it was, as we may easily believe, a source of terror, as well as of danger, to mariners31, until a lighthouse was built upon it.
But a lighthouse was talked of long before any attempt was made to erect32 one. Important though this object was to the navies of the world, the supposed impossibility of the feat33, and the danger apprehended34 in the mere35 attempt, deterred36 any one from undertaking37 the task until the year 1696, when a country gentleman of Essex, named Henry Winstanley, came forward, and, having obtained the necessary legal powers, began the great work of building on the wave-lashed rock.
Winstanley was an eccentric as well as a bold man. He undoubtedly38 possessed39 an ingenious mechanical mind, which displayed itself very much in practical joking. It is said of him that he made a machine, the spring of which was attached to an old slipper40, which lay (apparently by chance) on the floor of his bedroom. If a visitor kicked this out of his way, a phantom41 instantly arose from the floor! He also constructed a chair which seized every one who sat down in it with its arms, and held them fast; and in his garden he had an arbour which went afloat in a neighbouring canal when any one entered it! As might have been expected, Winstanley’s lighthouse was a curious affair, not well adapted to withstand the fury of the waves. It was highly ornamented42, and resembled a Chinese pagoda43 much more than a lighthouse. Nevertheless it must be said to the credit of this bold man, that after facing and overcoming, during six years, difficulties and dangers which up to that time had not been heard of, he finished his lighthouse, proved hereby the possibility of that which had been previously44 deemed impossible, and gave to mankind a noble example of enterprise, daring, and perseverance45.
Our friend John Potter had, from the commencement, rendered able assistance in the dangerous work as a stone cutter, and he could not help feeling as if he had been deserted46 by an old friend that night when the boat went off to the rock without him.
It was in November 1703, when Winstanley expressed the wish that he might experience, in his lighthouse, the greatest storm that ever blew. On the 26th of that month his wish was granted! That night there arose one of the fiercest gales that ever strewed47 our shores with wrecks48 and corpses49. The day before the storm, there were indications of its approach, so John Potter went down to the shore to look with some anxiety at the lighthouse. There it stood, as the sun went down, like a star on the horizon, glimmering50 above the waste of foaming51 water. When the dark pall53 and the driving sprays of that terrible night hid it from view, John turned his back on the sea and sought the shelter of his humble54 home.
It was a cheery home though a poor one, for Mrs Potter was a good housewife, despite her sharp temper; and the threatening aspect of the weather had subdued55 her somewhat.
“You wouldn’t like to be a lighthouse-keeper on a night like this, John, would you?” asked Mrs Potter, as she busied herself with supper.
“May be not: but I would be content to take things as they are sent. Anyhow, I mean to apply for the situation, because I like the notion of the quiet life, and the wage will be good as well as sure, which will be a matter of comfort to you, old girl. You often complain, you know, of the uncertainty56 of my present employment.”
“Ay, but I’d rather ’ave that uncertainty than see you run the risk of bein’ drownded in a light’ouse,” said Mrs Potter, glancing uneasily at the window, which rattled57 violently as the fury of the gale13 increased.
“Oh, faither,” exclaimed Tommy, pausing with a potato halfway58 to his mouth, as he listened partly in delight and partly in dread59 to the turmoil60 without: “I wish I was a man that I might go with ’ee to live in the light’ouse. Wot fun it would be to hear the gale roarin’ out there, an’ to see the big waves so close, an’ to feel the house shake, and—oh!”
The last syllable61 expressed partly his inability to say more, and partly his horror at seeing the fire blown almost into the room!
For some time past the smoke had poured down the chimney, but the last burst convinced John Potter that it was high time to extinguish the fire altogether.
This accomplished62, he took down an old family Bible from a shelf, and had worship, for he was a man who feared and loved God. Earnestly did he pray, for he had a son in the coasting trade whom he knew to be out upon the raging sea that night, and he did not forget his friends upon the Eddystone Rock.
“Get thee to bed, lass,” he said when he had concluded. “I’ll sit up an’ read the word. My eyes could not close this night.”
Poor Mrs Potter meekly63 obeyed. How strangely the weather had changed her! Even her enemies—and she had many—would have said there was some good in her after all, if they had seen her with a tear trickling64 down her ruddy cheek as she thought of her sailor boy.
Day broke at last. The gale still raged with an excess of fury that was absolutely appalling65. John Potter wrapped himself in a tarpaulin66 coat and sou’wester preparatory to going out.
“You couldn’t face it, Martha,” said John. “I thowt ye had bin asleep.”
“No: I’ve bin thinkin’ of our dear boy. I can face it well enough.”
“Come, then: but wrap well up. Let Tommy come too: I see he’s gettin’ ready.”
Presently the three went out. The door almost burst off its hinges when it was opened, and it required John’s utmost strength to reclose it.
Numbers of people, chiefly men, were already hurrying to the beach. Clouds of foam52 and salt spray were whirled madly in the air, and, carried far inland, and slates68 and cans were dashing on the pavements. Men tried to say to each other that they had never seen such a storm, but the gale caught their voices away, and seemed to mingle69 them all up in one prolonged roar. On gaining the beach they could see nothing at first but the heavings of the maddened sea, whose billows mingled70 their thunders with the wind. Sand, gravel71, and spray almost blinded them, but as daylight increased they caught glimpses of the foam above the rock.
“God help us!” said John, solemnly, as he and his wife and child sought shelter under the lee of a wall: “the light’ouse is gone!”
It was too true. The Eddystone lighthouse had been swept completely away, with the unfortunate Winstanley and all his men: not a vestige72, save a fragment of chain-cable, remained on the fatal rock to tell that such a building had ever been.
该作者的其它作品
《The World of Ice》
《The Young Fur Traders》
《The Thorogood Family》
《The Prairie Chief》
《The Island Queen》
《Deep Down》
该作者的其它作品
《The World of Ice》
《The Young Fur Traders》
《The Thorogood Family》
《The Prairie Chief》
《The Island Queen》
《Deep Down》
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收听单词发音
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1
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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7
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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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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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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16
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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17
brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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18
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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19
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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20
spoke
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| 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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21
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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23
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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24
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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25
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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26
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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27
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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28
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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29
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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30
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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31
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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32
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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35
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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36
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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38
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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39
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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40
slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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41
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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42
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
pagoda
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| n.宝塔（尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔），（印度教或佛教的）塔式庙宇 | |
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44
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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45
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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46
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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47
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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48
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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49
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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50
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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51
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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52
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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53
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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54
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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55
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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56
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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57
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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58
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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59
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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60
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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61
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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62
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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63
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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64
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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65
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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66
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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67
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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68
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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69
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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70
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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71
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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72
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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