The train left Bourke, and then there began the long, long agony of scrub and wire fence, with here and there a natural clearing, which seemed even more dismal1 than the funereal2 “timber” itself. The only thing which might seem in keeping with one of these soddened3 flats would be the ghost of a funeral—a city funeral with plain hearse and string of cabs—going very slowly across from the scrub on one side to the scrub on the other. Sky like a wet, grey blanket; plains like dead seas, save for the tufts of coarse grass sticking up out of the water; scrub indescribably dismal—everything damp, dark, and unspeakably dreary4.
Somewhere along here we saw a swagman's camp—a square of calico stretched across a horizontal stick, some rags steaming on another stick in front of a fire, and two billies to the leeward5 of the blaze. We knew by instinct that there was a piece of beef in the larger one. Small, hopeless-looking man standing6 with his back to the fire, with his hands behind him, watching the train; also, a damp, sorry-looking dingo warming itself and shivering by the fire. The rain had held up for a while. We saw two or three similar camps further on, forming a temporary suburb of Byrock.
The population was on the platform in old overcoats and damp, soft felt hats; one trooper in a waterproof7. The population looked cheerfully and patiently dismal. The local push had evidently turned up to see off some fair enslavers from the city, who had been up-country for the cheque season, now over. They got into another carriage. We were glad when the bell rang.
The rain recommenced. We saw another swagman about a mile on struggling away from the town, through mud and water. He did not seem to have heart enough to bother about trying to avoid the worst mud-holes. There was a low-spirited dingo at his heels, whose sole object in life was seemingly to keep his front paws in his master's last footprint. The traveller's body was bent8 well forward from the hips9 up; his long arms—about six inches through his coat sleeves—hung by his sides like the arms of a dummy10, with a billy at the end of one and a bag at the end of the other; but his head was thrown back against the top end of the swag, his hat-brim rolled up in front, and we saw a ghastly, beardless face which turned neither to the right nor the left as the train passed him.
After a long while we closed our book, and looking through the window, saw a hawker's turn-out which was too sorrowful for description.
We looked out again while the train was going slowly, and saw a teamster's camp: three or four wagons11 covered with tarpaulins13 which hung down in the mud all round and suggested death. A long, narrow man, in a long, narrow, shoddy overcoat and a damp felt hat, was walking quickly along the road past the camp. A sort of cattle-dog glided14 silently and swiftly out from under a wagon12, “heeled” the man, and slithered back without explaining. Here the scene vanished.
We remember stopping—for an age it seemed—at half a dozen straggling shanties15 on a flat of mud and water. There was a rotten weather-board pub, with a low, dripping veranda16, and three wretchedly forlorn horses hanging, in the rain, to a post outside. We saw no more, but we knew that there were several apologies for men hanging about the rickety bar inside—or round the parlour fire. Streams of cold, clay-coloured water ran in all directions, cutting fresh gutters17, and raising a yeasty froth whenever the water fell a few inches. As we left, we saw a big man in an overcoat riding across a culvert; the tails of the coat spread over the horse's rump, and almost hid it. In fancy still we saw him—hanging up his weary, hungry little horse in the rain, and swaggering into the bar; and we almost heard someone say, in a drawling tone: “'Ello, Tom! 'Ow are yer poppin' up?”'
The train stopped (for about a year) within a mile of the next station. Trucking-yards in the foreground, like any other trucking-yard along the line; they looked drearier18 than usual, because the rain had darkened the posts and rails. Small plain beyond, covered with water and tufts of grass. The inevitable19, God-forgotten “timber,” black in the distance; dull, grey sky and misty20 rain over all. A small, dark-looking flock of sheep was crawling slowly in across the flat from the unknown, with three men on horse-back zigzagging21 patiently behind. The horses just moved—that was all. One man wore an oilskin, one an old tweed overcoat, and the third had a three-bushel bag over his head and shoulders.
Had we returned an hour later, we should have seen the sheep huddled22 together in a corner of the yard, and the three horses hanging up outside the local shanty23.
We stayed at Nyngan—which place we refrain from sketching—for a few hours, because the five trucks of cattle of which we were in charge were shunted there, to be taken on by a very subsequent goods train. The Government allows one man to every five trucks in a cattle-train. We shall pay our fare next time, even if we have not a shilling left over and above. We had haunted local influence at Comanavadrink for two long, anxious, heart-breaking weeks ere we got the pass; and we had put up with all the indignities24, the humiliation—in short, had suffered all that poor devils suffer whilst besieging25 Local Influence. We only thought of escaping from the bush.
The pass said that we were John Smith, drover, and that we were available for return by ordinary passenger-train within two days, we think—or words in that direction. Which didn't interest us. We might have given the pass away to an unemployed26 in Orange, who wanted to go out back, and who begged for it with tears in his eyes; but we didn't like to injure a poor fool who never injured us—who was an entire stranger to us. He didn't know what Out Back meant.
Local Influence had given us a kind of note of introduction to be delivered to the cattle-agent at the yards that morning; but the agent was not there—only two of his satellites, a Cockney colonial-experience man, and a scrub-town clerk, both of whom we kindly27 ignore. We got on without the note, and at Orange we amused ourself by reading it. It said:
“Dear Old Man—Please send this beggar on; and I hope he'll be landed safely at Orange—or—or wherever the cattle go—yours,—-”
We had been led to believe that the bullocks were going to Sydney. We took no further interest in those cattle.
After Nyngan the bush grew darker and drearier; and the plains more like ghastly oceans; and here and there the “dominant note of Australian scenery” was accentuated28, as it were, by naked, white, ring-barked trees standing in the water and haunting the ghostly surroundings.
We spent that night in a passenger compartment29 of a van which had been originally attached to old No. 1 engine. There was only one damp cushion in the whole concern. We lent that to a lady who travelled for a few hours in the other half of the next compartment. The seats were about nine inches wide and sloped in at a sharp angle to the bare matchboard wall, with a bead30 on the outer edge; and as the cracks had become well caulked31 with the grease and dirt of generations, they held several gallons of water each. We scuttled32 one, rolled ourself in a rug, and tried to sleep; but all night long overcoated and comfortered bushmen would get in, let down all the windows, and then get out again at the next station. Then we would wake up frozen and shut the windows.
We dozed33 off again, and woke at daylight, and recognized the ridgy34 gum-country between Dubbo and Orange. It didn't look any drearier than the country further west—because it couldn't. There is scarcely a part of the country out west which looks less inviting35 or more horrible than any other part.
The weather cleared, and we had sunlight for Orange, Bathurst, the Blue Mountains, and Sydney. They deserve it; also as much rain as they need.
点击收听单词发音
1 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 funereal | |
adj.悲哀的;送葬的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 soddened | |
v.(液体)沸腾( seethe的过去分词 )( sodden的过去分词 );激动,大怒;强压怒火;生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 leeward | |
adj.背风的;下风的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 waterproof | |
n.防水材料;adj.防水的;v.使...能防水 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 dummy | |
n.假的东西;(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 wagon | |
n.四轮马车,手推车,面包车;无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 tarpaulins | |
n.防水帆布,防水帆布罩( tarpaulin的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 shanties | |
n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 );铁皮棚屋;船工号子;船歌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 veranda | |
n.走廊;阳台 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 gutters | |
(路边)排水沟( gutter的名词复数 ); 阴沟; (屋顶的)天沟; 贫贱的境地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 drearier | |
使人闷闷不乐或沮丧的( dreary的比较级 ); 阴沉的; 令人厌烦的; 单调的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 zigzagging | |
v.弯弯曲曲地走路,曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 );盘陀 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 shanty | |
n.小屋,棚屋;船工号子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 indignities | |
n.侮辱,轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 besieging | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 unemployed | |
adj.失业的,没有工作的;未动用的,闲置的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 accentuated | |
v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 );使突出;使恶化;加重音符号于 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 compartment | |
n.卧车包房,隔间;分隔的空间 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 bead | |
n.念珠;(pl.)珠子项链;水珠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 caulked | |
v.堵(船的)缝( caulk的过去式和过去分词 );泥…的缝;填塞;使不漏水 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 scuttled | |
v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 );快跑,急走 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 dozed | |
v.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 ridgy | |
adj.有脊的;有棱纹的;隆起的;有埂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |