A year or two ago, when a company was running boats between Australia and New Zealand without competition, the steerage fare was three pound direct single, and two pound ten shillings between Auckland and Wellington. The potatoes were black and green and soggy, the beef like bits scraped off the inside of a hide which had lain out for a day or so, the cabbage was cabbage leaves, the tea muddy. The whole business took away our appetite regularly three times a day, and there wasn't enough to go round, even if it had been good—enough tucker, we mean; there was enough appetite to go round three or four times, but it was driven away by disgust until after meals. If we had not, under cover of darkness, broached4 a deck cargo5 of oranges, lemons, and pineapples, and thereby6 run the risk of being run in on arrival, there would have been starvation, disease, and death on that boat before the end—perhaps mutiny.
You can go across now for one pound, and get something to eat on the road; but the travelling public will go on patronizing the latest reducer of fares until the poorer company gets starved out and fares go up again—then the travelling public will have to pay three or four times as much as they do now, and go hungry on the voyage; all of which ought to go to prove that the travelling public is as big a fool as the general public.
We can't help thinking that the captains and crews of our primitive7 little coastal8 steamers take the chances so often that they in time get used to it, and, being used to it, have no longer any misgivings9 or anxiety in rough weather concerning a watery10 grave, but feel as perfectly11 safe as if they were in church with their wives or sisters—only more comfortable—and go on feeling so until the worn-out machinery12 breaks down and lets the old tub run ashore, or knocks a hole in her side, or the side itself rusts13 through at last and lets the water in, or the last straw in the shape of an extra ton of brine tumbles on board, and the John Smith (Newcastle), goes down with a swoosh before the cook has time to leave off peeling his potatoes and take to prayer.
These cheerful—and, maybe, unjust—reflections are perhaps in consequence of our having lost half a sovereign to start with. We arrived at the booking-office with two minutes to spare, two sticks of Juno tobacco, a spare wooden pipe—in case we lost the other—a letter to a friend's friend down south, a pound note (Bank of New Zealand), and two half-crowns, with which to try our fortunes in the South Island. We also had a few things in a portmanteau and two blankets in a three-bushel bag, but they didn't amount to much. The clerk put down the ticket with the half-sovereign on top of it, and we wrapped the latter in the former and ran for the wharf14. On the way we snatched the ticket out to see the name of the boat we were going by, in order to find it, and it was then, we suppose, that the semi-quid got lost.
Did you ever lose a sovereign or a half-sovereign under similar circumstances? You think of it casually15 and feel for it carelessly at first, to be sure that it's there all right; then, after going through your pockets three or four times with rapidly growing uneasiness, you lose your head a little and dredge for that coin hurriedly and with painful anxiety. Then you force yourself to be calm, and proceed to search yourself systematically16, in a methodical manner. At this stage, if you have time, it's a good plan to sit down and think out when and where you last had that half-sovereign, and where you have been since, and which way you came from there, and what you took out of your pocket, and where, and whether you might have given it in mistake for sixpence at that pub where you rushed in to have a beer—and then you calculate the chances against getting it back again. The last of these reflections is apt to be painful, and the painfulness is complicated and increased when there happen to have been several pubs and a like number of hurried farewell beers in the recent past.
And for months after that you cannot get rid of the idea that that half-sov. might be about your clothes somewhere. It haunts you. You turn your pockets out, and feel the lining17 of your coat and vest inch by inch, and examine your letter papers—everything you happen to have had in your pocket that day—over and over again, and by and by you peer in envelopes and unfold papers that you didn't have in your pocket at all, but might have had. And when the novelty of the first search has worn off, and the fit takes you, you make another search. Even after many months have passed away, some day—or night—when you are hard up for tobacco and a drink, you suddenly think of that late lamented18 half-sov., and are moved by adverse19 circumstances to look through your old clothes in a sort of forlorn hope, or to give good luck a sort of chance to surprise you—the only chance that you can give it.
By the way, seven-and-six of that half-quid should have gone to the landlord of the hotel where we stayed last, and somehow, in spite of this enlightened age, the loss of it seemed a judgment20; and seeing that the boat was old and primitive, and there was every sign of a three days' sou'-easter, we sincerely hoped that judgment was complete—that supreme21 wrath22 had been appeased23 by the fine of ten bob without adding any Jonah business to it.
This reminds us that we once found a lost half-sovereign in the bowl of a spare pipe six months after it was lost. We wish it had stayed there and turned up to-night. But, although when you are in great danger—say, adrift in an open boat—tales of providential escapes and rescues may interest and comfort you, you can't get any comfort out of anecdotes24 concerning the turning up of lost quids when you have just lost one yourself. All you want is to find it.
It bothers you even not to be able to account for a bob. You always like to know that you have had something for your money, if only a long beer. You would sooner know that you fooled your money away on a spree, and made yourself sick than lost it out of an extra hole in your pocket, and kept well.
We left Wellington with a feeling of pained regret, a fellow-wanderer by our side telling us how he had once lost “fi-pun-note”—and about two-thirds of the city unemployed25 on the wharf looking for that half-sovereign. Well, we hope that some poor devil found it; although, to tell the truth, we would then have by far preferred to have found it ourselves.
A sailor said that the Moa was a good sea-boat, and, although she was small and old, he was never afraid of her. He'd sooner travel in her than in some of those big cheap ocean liners with more sand in them than iron or steel—You, know the rest. Further on, in a conversation concerning the age of these coasters, he said that they'd last fully26 thirty years if well painted and looked after. He said that this one was seldom painted, and never painted properly; and then, seemingly in direct contradiction to his previously27 expressed confidence in the safety and seaworthiness of the Moa, he said that he could poke28 a stick through her anywhere. We asked him not to do it.
It came on to splash, and we went below to reflect, and search once more for that half-sovereign. The cabin was small and close, and dimly lighted, and evil smelling, and shaped like the butt29 end of a coffin30. It might not have smelt31 so bad if we hadn't lost that half-sovereign. There was a party of those gipsy-like Assyrians—two families apparently—the women and children lying very sick about the lower bunks32; and a big, good-humoured-looking young Maori propped33 between the end of the table and the wall, playing a concertina. The sick people were too sick, and the concertina seemed too much in sympathy with them, and the lost half-quid haunted us more than ever down there; so we started to climb out.
The first thing that struck us was the jagged top edge of that iron hood34-like arrangement over the gangway. The top half only of the scuttle35 was open. There was nothing to be seen except a fog of spray and a Newfoundland dog sea-sick under the lee of something. The next thing that struck us was a tub of salt water, which came like a cannon36 ball and broke against the hood affair, and spattered on deck like a crockery shop. We climbed down again backwards37, and sat on the floor with emphasis, in consequence of stepping down a last step that wasn't there, and cracked the back of our heads against the edge of the table. The Maori helped us up, and we had a drink with him at the expense of one of the half-casers mentioned in the beginning of this sketch38. Then the Maori shouted, then we, then the Maori again, then we again; and then we thought, “Dash it, what's a half-sovereign? We'll fall on our feet all right.”
We went up Queen Charlotte's Sound, a long crooked39 arm of the sea between big, rugged40, black-looking hills. There was a sort of lighthouse down near the entrance, and they said an old Maori woman kept it. There were some whitish things on the sides of the hills, which we at first took for cattle, and then for goats. They were sheep. Someone said that that country was only fit to carry sheep. It must have been bad, then, judging from some of the country in Australia which is only fit to carry sheep. Country that wouldn't carry goats would carry sheep, we think. Sheep are about the hardiest41 animals on the face of this planet—barring crocodiles.
You may rip a sheep open whilst watching for the boss's boots or yarning42 to a pen-mate, and then when you have stuffed the works back into the animal, and put a stitch in the slit43, and poked44 it somewhere with a tar-stick (it doesn't matter much where) the jumbuck will be all right and just as lively as ever, and turn up next shearing45 without the ghost of a scratch on its skin.
We reached Picton, a small collection of twinkling lights in a dark pocket, apparently at the top of a sound. We climbed up on to the wharf, got through between two railway trucks, and asked a policeman where we were, and where the telegraph office was. There were several pretty girls in the office, laughing and chyacking the counter clerks, which jarred upon the feelings of this poor orphan46 wanderer in strange lands. We gloomily took a telegram form, and wired to a friend in North Island, using the following words: “Wire quid; stumped47.”
Then we crossed the street to a pub and asked for a roof and they told us to go up to No. 8. We went up, struck a match, lit the candle, put our bag in a corner, cleared the looking-glass off the toilet table, got some paper and a pencil out of our portmanteau, and sat down and wrote this sketch.
The candle is going out.
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1
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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2
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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3
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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4
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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5
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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6
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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7
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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8
coastal
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| adj.海岸的，沿海的，沿岸的 | |
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9
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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10
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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11
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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12
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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13
rusts
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| n.铁锈( rust的名词复数 )；（植物的）锈病，锈菌v.（使）生锈( rust的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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15
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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16
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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17
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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18
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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20
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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21
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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22
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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23
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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25
unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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26
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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27
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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28
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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29
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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30
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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31
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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32
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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33
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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35
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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36
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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37
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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39
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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40
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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41
hardiest
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| 能吃苦耐劳的，坚强的( hardy的最高级 )； （植物等）耐寒的 | |
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42
yarning
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的现在分词形式） | |
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43
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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44
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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45
shearing
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| n.剪羊毛，剪取的羊毛v.剪羊毛( shear的现在分词 )；切断；剪切 | |
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46
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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47
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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