Michael possessed3 no trace of hysteria, though he was more temperamentally excitable and explosive than his blood-brother Jerry, while his father and mother were a sedate4 old couple indeed compared with him. Far more than mature Jerry, was mature Michael playful and rowdyish. His ebullient5 spirits were always on tap to spill over on the slightest provocation6, and, as he was afterwards to demonstrate, he could weary a puppy with play. In short, Michael was a merry soul.
“Soul” is used advisedly. Whatever the human soul may be—informing spirit, identity, personality, consciousness—that intangible thing Michael certainly possessed. His soul, differing only in degree, partook of the same attributes as the human soul. He knew love, sorrow, joy, wrath8, pride, self-consciousness, humour. Three cardinal9 attributes of the human soul are memory, will, and understanding; and memory, will, and understanding were Michael’s.
Just like a human, with his five senses he contacted with the world exterior10 to him. Just like a human, the results to him of these contacts were sensations. Just like a human, these sensations on occasion culminated11 in emotions. Still further, like a human, he could and did perceive, and such perceptions did flower in his brain as concepts, certainly not so wide and deep and recondite12 as those of humans, but concepts nevertheless.
Perhaps, to let the human down a trifle from such disgraceful identity of the highest life-attributes, it would be well to admit that Michael’s sensations were not quite so poignant13, say in the matter of a needle-thrust through his foot as compared with a needle-thrust through the palm of a hand. Also, it is admitted, when consciousness suffused14 his brain with a thought, that the thought was dimmer, vaguer than a similar thought in a human brain. Furthermore, it is admitted that never, never, in a million lifetimes, could Michael have demonstrated a proposition in Euclid or solved a quadratic equation. Yet he was capable of knowing beyond all peradventure of a doubt that three bones are more than two bones, and that ten dogs compose a more redoubtable15 host than do two dogs.
One admission, however, will not be made, namely, that Michael could not love as devotedly16, as wholeheartedly, unselfishly, madly, self-sacrificingly as a human. He did so love—not because he was Michael, but because he was a dog.
Michael had loved Captain Kellar more than he loved his own life. No more than Jerry for Skipper, would he have hesitated to risk his life for Captain Kellar. And he was destined17, as time went by and the conviction that Captain Kellar had passed into the inevitable18 nothingness along with Meringe and the Solomons, to love just as absolutely this six-quart steward19 with the understanding ways and the fascinating lip-caress. Kwaque, no; for Kwaque was black. Kwaque he merely accepted, as an appurtenance, as a part of the human landscape, as a chattel20 of Dag Daughtry.
But he did not know this new god as Dag Daughtry. Kwaque called him “marster”; but Michael heard other white men so addressed by the blacks. Many blacks had he heard call Captain Kellar “marster.” It was Captain Duncan who called the steward “Steward.” Michael came to hear him, and his officers, and all the passengers, so call him; and thus, to Michael, his god’s name was Steward, and for ever after he was to know him and think of him as Steward.
There was the question of his own name. The next evening after he came on board, Dag Daughtry talked it over with him. Michael sat on his haunches, the length of his lower jaw21 resting on Daughtry’s knee, the while his eyes dilated22, contracted and glowed, his ears ever pricking23 and repricking to listen, his stump24 tail thumping25 ecstatically on the floor.
“It’s this way, son,” the steward told him. “Your father and mother were Irish. Now don’t be denying it, you rascal—”
This, as Michael, encouraged by the unmistakable geniality26 and kindness in the voice, wriggled27 his whole body and thumped28 double knocks of delight with his tail. Not that he understood a word of it, but that he did understand the something behind the speech that informed the string of sounds with all the mysterious likeableness that white gods possessed.
“Never be ashamed of your ancestry29. An’ remember, God loves the Irish—Kwaque! Go fetch ’m two bottle beer fella stop ’m along icey-chestis!—Why, the very mug of you, my lad, sticks out Irish all over it.” (Michael’s tail beat a tattoo30.) “Now don’t be blarneyin’ me. ’Tis well I’m wise to your insidyous, snugglin’, heart-stealin’ ways. I’ll have ye know my heart’s impervious31. ’Tis soaked too long this many a day in beer. I stole you to sell you, not to be lovin’ you. I could’ve loved you once; but that was before me and beer was introduced. I’d sell you for twenty quid right now, coin down, if the chance offered. An’ I ain’t goin’ to love you, so you can put that in your pipe ’n’ smoke it.”
“But as I was about to say when so rudely interrupted by your ’fectionate ways—”
Here he broke off to tilt32 to his mouth the opened bottle Kwaque handed him. He sighed, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and proceeded.
“’Tis a strange thing, son, this silly matter of beer. Kwaque, the Methusalem-faced ape grinnin’ there, belongs to me. But by my faith do I belong to beer, bottles ’n’ bottles of it ’n’ mountains of bottles of it enough to sink the ship. Dog, truly I envy you, settin’ there comfortable-like inside your body that’s untainted of alcohol. I may own you, and the man that gives me twenty quid will own you, but never will a mountain of bottles own you. You’re a freer man than I am, Mister Dog, though I don’t know your name. Which reminds me—”
He drained the bottle, tossed it to Kwaque, and made signs for him to open the remaining one.
“The namin’ of you, son, is not lightly to be considered. Irish, of course, but what shall it be? Paddy? Well may you shake your head. There’s no smack33 of distinction to it. Who’d mistake you for a hod-carrier? Ballymena might do, but it sounds much like a lady, my boy. Ay, boy you are. ’Tis an idea. Boy! Let’s see. Banshee Boy? Rotten. Lad of Erin!”
He nodded approbation34 and reached for the second bottle. He drank and meditated35, and drank again.
“I’ve got you,” he announced solemnly. “Killeny is a lovely name, and it’s Killeny Boy for you. How’s that strike your honourableness36?—high-soundin’, dignified37 as a earl or . . . or a retired38 brewer39. Many’s the one of that gentry40 I’ve helped to retire in my day.”
He finished his bottle, caught Michael suddenly by both jowls, and, leaning forward, rubbed noses with him. As suddenly released, with thumping tail and dancing eyes, Michael gazed up into the god’s face. A definite soul, or entity7, or spirit-thing glimmered41 behind his dog’s eyes, already fond with affection for this hair-grizzled god who talked with him he knew not what, but whose very talking carried delicious and unguessable messages to his heart.
“Hey! Kwaque, you!”
Kwaque, squatted42 on the floor, his hams on his heels, paused from the rough-polishing of a shell comb designed and cut out by his master, and looked up, eager to receive command and serve.
“Kwaque, you fella this time now savvee name stop along this fella dog. His name belong ’m him, Killeny Boy. You make ’m name stop ’m inside head belong you. All the time you speak ’m this fella dog, you speak ’m Killeny Boy. Savvee? Suppose ’m you no savvee, I knock ’m block off belong you. Killeny Boy, savvee! Killeny Boy. Killeny Boy.”
As Kwaque removed his shoes and helped him undress, Daughtry regarded Michael with sleepy eyes.
“I’ve got you, laddy,” he announced, as he stood up and swayed toward bed. “I’ve got your name, an’ here’s your number—I got that, too: high-strung but reasonable. It fits you like the paper on the wall.
“High-strung but reasonable, that’s what you are, Killeny Boy, high-strung but reasonable,” he continued to mumble43 as Kwaque helped to roll him into his bunk44.
Kwaque returned to his polishing. His lips stammered45 and halted in the making of noiseless whispers, as, with corrugated46 brows of puzzlement, he addressed the steward:
“Marster, what name stop ’m along that fella dog?”
“Killeny Boy, you kinky-head man-eater, Killeny Boy, Killeny Boy,” Dag Daughtry murmured drowsily47. “Kwaque, you black blood-drinker, run n’ fetch ’m one fella bottle stop ’m along icey-chestis.”
“No stop ’m, marster,” the black quavered, with eyes alert for something to be thrown at him. “Six fella bottle he finish altogether.”
The steward’s sole reply was a snore.
The black, with the twisted hand of leprosy and with a barely perceptible infiltration48 of the same disease thickening the skin of the forehead between the eyes, bent49 over his polishing, and ever his lips moved, repeating over and over, “Killeny Boy.”
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收听单词发音
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1
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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ebullient
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| adj.兴高采烈的，奔放的 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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9
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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10
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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11
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
recondite
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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14
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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16
devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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17
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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19
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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20
chattel
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| n.动产；奴隶 | |
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21
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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22
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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24
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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25
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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26
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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27
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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28
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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30
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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31
impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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32
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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33
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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34
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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35
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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36
honourableness
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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38
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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39
brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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40
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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41
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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43
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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44
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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45
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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47
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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48
infiltration
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| n.渗透；下渗；渗滤；入渗 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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