“To Mr. O’Malley in foreign parts.”
ONCE a month Martha Tomlinson had a day’s holiday. She generally chose Wednesdays, because, she used to say, if there was any luck flying about in a week, that was the day on which it fell to earth. She certainly had illustrations for her theory that Poppet at least used to think were wonderful. For instance, one Wednesday she had picked up a sixpence with a horseshoe on the side the Queen’s head is generally seen—the omen1 had struck her as almost good enough to be married on. Another time the young man she “went walking with” had been within an ace2 of buying a pee-wit hat that was cheap certainly, but was moth-eaten in a place or two. If, now, she had gone on Thursday, it would have been too late to prevent it, and Tuesday it would have been too soon. It was a clear case of luck, there was no doubt.
126One time, indeed, she had been tempted3 to take a Thursday instead, as the weather looked threatening on the Wednesday; but after a little deliberation, she thought it would be better to keep to her rule. And on the Thursday she had almost gone there was a collision between the river boat and one going to Balmain,—no one hurt certainly, but then, as she very truly remarked, there might have been. There had never been a collision in the memory of any of the family, for she questioned each and all, on a Wednesday.
The man in corduroy trousers still came to see her, and they still only talked of their marriage as the “far-off divine event” of their lives; in all probability they would be talking of it just the same ten years hence. They were not like the usual happy-go-lucky, improvident4 Australians of their class, who married first, and wondered where the bread and meat were coming from second.
Malcolm was a Scotchman, and was saving up to buy a house of his own—he did not believe in lining5 landlords’ pockets with his earnings6. It would, with the strip of land he wanted, be four hundred odd pounds, and he had already saved £75. Martha had £15 in the bank, but then hers would have to go in furniture and clothing. Pip calculated 127that Malcolm would be seventy-two, and Martha a gay young thing of sixty-nine, by the time the house was built and furnished; but Martha was more hopeful, and did not leave such a margin7 for the “strikes” Malcolm seemed to revel8 in.
Now this particular Wednesday, Martha had asked, as a great favour, that Poppet might go with her to town. The little girl was her favourite among all the children, and her warm heart quite ached to see the child moping as she had done since Bunty’s disappearance9. Every day, while the nursery tea-things were being washed up, Poppet used to stand beside her, with big mournful eyes, wondering “if just this minute Bunty was climbing a mast; if he was very tired of salt meat and weevily biscuits; if his feet got very cold swilling11 the decks down; if—if—if——”
Martha’s brother had been a sailor, so Martha knew more about life on board ship than any one else in the house; hence her great attraction.
Esther, after a consultation12 with Meg, gave permission; the child was fretting13 herself thin and pale, and any change did her good.
Of course when Poppet was dressed and standing14 on the verandah, engaged in the vexatious task of 128pulling her gloves over her little brown hands, Peter wanted to come too.
“You’re a thneak, Poppet, going and having pleathure, and me thtuck here doing nothing,” he said. “I’m coming too.”
“In that dirty old suit, and mud on the end of your nose?” said Poppet, with the virtuous15 tone a spotless white frock, whole stockings, and clean boots made justifiable16.
“Of courth I can wath my noth, and the thuit ithn’t dirty if you bruth it.” He took out a crumpled17 ball of handkerchief, dipped one corner in the gold-fish bowl inside the hall door, and polished his small nose with great energy. “There, ith it off?”
Martha came out, resplendent in a green cashmere made in the very latest style, a green hat with pink ostrich18 feathers, and a green parasol.
Peter looked impressed, and said nothing more about accompanying them; Poppet was nobody, of course, even though her new boots had twelve buttons against his own six; but even his young soul felt the impossibility of a sailor suit no longer new being seen within a yard of that magnificent new costume of Martha’s.
He contented19 himself with looking after them enviously20 as they went down the drive, and kicking the verandah post with his small strong boots.
129“Tthuck up thingth!” he muttered, turning away to look for means of amusement. “I’ll thutht pay that Poppet out.”
Martha had ideas of her own as to the proper way a holiday should be spent, and had determined21 Poppet should have a day she would long remember. One thing only Poppet asked for, and that was that they should walk about Circular Quay22 for a little time and look at the great ships, and especially any that were bound for America.
In her pocket the little girl had a blotted23 note she had written some days ago. On the envelope, in very bad, unsteady writing, there was this strange address:—
“To Bunty in America.
“On the ship Isabela plese will the capten give this to Bunty.”
There was a pencil mark through Bunty, and John Woolcot was written in brackets.
Inside the envelope was much paper and many smudges made by the tears that fell all the time the pen went slowly along the lines.
“Oh Bunty do come home, Bunty dere there is nothing to be fritened of. Mr. Barnham doesn’t beleeve you took it and the boys chered you like 130anything and Meg is going to be nice always the tortus is very well and I give it beefstake every day I can get any you would be serprised to see what it can eat. Oh Bunty do be quick home oh you mite24 have told me you were going Bunty I’d have come with you or anything do you have to go up the masts. I’m so fritened you’ll fall overbord I’ve put 10 pense in here so you can buy things when you’re on shore I wish I had more Martha says the biskits are full of weevuls. Dere Bunty oh do come home quick quick oh Bunty if only you’ll come I’ll always do things for you and never grumbil whatever it is I know I used to be horid and grumbling25 before but just you see do you have to swil the deks with no boots. Martha says so. Oh dere Bunty DO come home. I’ve beleeved you all the time Bunty dere of corse.
“Your loving sister,
“Poppet.
“P.S.—Be sure to come quick.”
For a long time the little girl could think of no possible way of getting this letter to her brother. Meg had said the post-office would be no use, for in all probability the boat bearing it would pass in mid26 ocean the one bringing Bunty back.
But it had struck Poppet lately that if only 131she could give it to the captain of some other boat going to America, he would know just where the boat was and be able to send it on.
That was the hope that was making her eyes grow full of light as the river boat got nearer and nearer to Sydney, and hundreds of tall masts and interlacing yards stood against the blue of the sky or the brown-grey of the great warehouses27.
How beautiful the harbour looked to-day! There was a cool breeze blowing, and it ruffled28 the waters into a million little broken waves that leaped and danced in the clear morning sunshine.
Up near the Quay there was all the picturesque29 untidiness and bustle30 of busy shipping31; but out farther the sun and the waves and the drifting clouds had it their own way, and made a hundred shifting pictures. Sometimes a white sail glittered in the sun, then a brown one would make a spot of warm colour. The great boats to Manly32 left long majestic33 trails of white foam34 behind them, and little skiffs got into the wash and rocked joyously35.
On the North Shore the many buildings showed white and clean in the sunlight; farther to the left the houses were fewer, and beautiful gardens stretched down to the water’s edge. Still farther away, across the white-tipped waves, were shores with backgrounds 132of thickly-growing gums; and higher, the soft blue line of hills.
Poppet’s very heart was in her eyes as the boat stopped at the Erskine Street Wharf36 and the gangway was put down. She pinched Martha’s arm gently and whispered to her not to forget.
She “supposed the boats to America went from the Quay, didn’t they now?—or was it from Wooloomooloo?”
But he “supposed there were boats and boats to America. There was sich as the Mariposa, which carried swells39 and was a fine boat; and sich as the Jenny Lind, which took oil and was not a fine boat!”
“Do you know the Isabella?” said Poppet’s little eager voice.
“Captain Brown?—well, I reckon I do, little miss,” he said, and chewed a bit of tobacco thoughtfully. “Bloomin’ old tub! I was on her five year.”
Poppet nearly fell upon him,—she could not wait while he said all he knew about it in his slow roundabout way.
“Is he a cruel man? don’t they have vegetables to eat? do the little boys have to go up the masts? are there weevils in the biscuits? oh! and won’t he let them have their boots on when they swill10 the decks?”
But it turned out that the Isabella he was on was a schooner40 plying41 between Melbourne and the South Sea Islands. He rather fancied there was a brig of the same name that went to San Francisco or Boston, or “one of those places.”
Poppet’s face had fallen again.
“Do you know of any boats that go to America?” she said in a forlorn tone. “Oh, do please try and think if you know of any.”
Martha explained rapidly, sotto voce: “The young lady’s brother had run away, and was on that boat; she was fretting her little heart out to get a letter to him; couldn’t he pacify42 her some way? she herself knew it was impossible.”
“I have a mate on the Jenny Lind, little miss,—how’d it be if I gave him the letter? He’s a good-hearted chap, and would try his best; he’d be sure to know where the Isabella is, and could easy send it.”
“That would be best, Miss Poppet dear,” said Martha; “give it to this nice kind man and he’ll send it.”
“Is he going to America soon? Do you think he would see the Isabella?” the little sad voice said.
And the sailor’s answer was certainly very 134reassuring: the Jenny Lind sailed in two days, and was sure to meet the Isabella, in which case the letter would be delivered into Bunty’s hands.
Poppet handed over her letter with a sigh of relief; she had hardly dared to hope a boat would leave so soon.
Martha thanked the man, opened her green parasol, and walked on. Poppet lingered half a minute.
“If you should happen to meet him anywhere,” she said hurriedly,—“you might, you know, as you’re a sailor too: he’s a tallish little boy, with brown eyes, and his hair’s rather rough,—you won’t forget, will you?”
“Not I,” he said warmly; shaking the small hand she held out,—“a tallish little boy with brown eyes,—oh! I’d easy know him.”
Such a morning they had! They went to the waxworks45 in George Street first, and saw bushrangers, an aboriginal46 murderer, and other pleasing characters, with life-like eyelashes and surprisingly beautiful complexions47. Then they climbed all the way to the top of the Town Hall—Martha knew the caretaker—and had the pleasure of seeing the city in miniature far below. The Cathedral being next 135door came in for a turn, but seemed rather flat after the waxworks. After that they went through the five arcades49 systematically50, flattening51 their noses at each interesting window, and telling each other what they would buy if they had the money.
It was twelve o’clock when they had finished with the Strand52, and they were to meet Malcolm, who was going to take them somewhere to lunch, at half-past one.
“There’s just time for the Botanicking Gardens,” said Martha, wiping her heated face and setting her splendid hat straight at one of the narrow slits53 of mirror in the arcade48.
So away they posted, up King Street, down 136Macquarie Street, and away down the broad, beautiful, shady walk in the Domain54.
There was not time to “do” the Gardens thoroughly55, so they only walked rapidly up some of the paths, paused for a moment to look at the blue harbour beyond the low sea wall, and then walked three times solemnly and backwards56 around the wishing-tree near the entrance gates.
“What did you wish, Martha?” Poppet said, as they walked up again towards the statue of Captain Cook, where they were to meet Malcolm. “I hope you wished about Bunty.”
But Martha had been selfish enough to desire fervently57 that Malcolm should never go on strike again.
“Oh, you never get your wish if you tell what it is,” she said evasively.
“Don’t you?” said Poppet anxiously. “Oh dear, and I was nearly telling mine. You can’t guess in the slightest, Martha, can you? You have no idea, have you, Martha?”
“Not the slightest,” said Martha of the warm heart,—“not the least little bit, Miss Poppet.”
“And you always get your wish, Martha?”
“Oh, of course.”
Years after, Poppet’s faith in that wonderful wishing-tree was unshaken.
点击收听单词发音
1 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 ace | |
n.A牌;发球得分;佼佼者;adj.杰出的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 improvident | |
adj.不顾将来的,不节俭的,无远见的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 lining | |
n.衬里,衬料 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 earnings | |
n.工资收人;利润,利益,所得 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 revel | |
vi.狂欢作乐,陶醉;n.作乐,狂欢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 swill | |
v.冲洗;痛饮;n.泔脚饲料;猪食;(谈话或写作中的)无意义的话 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 swilling | |
v.冲洗( swill的现在分词 );猛喝;大口喝;(使)液体流动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 consultation | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 fretting | |
n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 justifiable | |
adj.有理由的,无可非议的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 crumpled | |
adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 ostrich | |
n.鸵鸟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 enviously | |
adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 quay | |
n.码头,靠岸处 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 mite | |
n.极小的东西;小铜币 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 grumbling | |
adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 mid | |
adj.中央的,中间的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 warehouses | |
仓库,货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 ruffled | |
adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 shipping | |
n.船运(发货,运输,乘船) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 spoke | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 inverted | |
adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 swells | |
增强( swell的第三人称单数 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 schooner | |
n.纵帆船 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 plying | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的现在分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 pacify | |
vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒);抚慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 beckoning | |
adj.引诱人的,令人心动的v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 waxworks | |
n.公共供水系统;蜡制品,蜡像( waxwork的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 aboriginal | |
adj.(指动植物)土生的,原产地的,土著的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 complexions | |
肤色( complexion的名词复数 ); 面色; 局面; 性质 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 arcade | |
n.拱廊;(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 arcades | |
n.商场( arcade的名词复数 );拱形走道(两旁有商店或娱乐设施);连拱廊;拱形建筑物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 systematically | |
adv.有系统地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 flattening | |
n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 strand | |
vt.使(船)搁浅,使(某人)困于(某地) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 slits | |
n.狭长的口子,裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开,撕开( slit的第三人称单数 );在…上开狭长口子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 fervently | |
adv.热烈地,热情地,强烈地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |