I suppose I did not awake very readily. Following the nervous vigilance of the past six months, my tired nerves, in the enjoyment1 of this relaxation2, were rapidly recuperating3. I no longer feared to awake to find a knife at my throat, no longer dreaded5 the darkness as a foe6.
So that the voice may have been calling (indeed, had been calling) for some time, and of this I had been hazily7 conscious before finally I awoke. Then, ere the new sense of security came to reassure8 me, the old sense of impending9 harm set my heart leaping nervously10. There is always a certain physical panic attendant upon such awakening11 in the still of night, especially in novel surroundings. Now, I sat up abruptly12, clutching at the rail of my berth13 and listening.
There was a soft thudding on my cabin door, and a voice, low and urgent, was crying my name.
Through the open porthole the moonlight streamed into my room, and save for a remote and soothing14 throb15, inseparable from the progress of a great steamship16, nothing else disturbed the stillness; I might have floated lonely upon the bosom17 of the Mediterranean18. But there was the drumming on the door again, and the urgent appeal:
“Dr. Petrie! Dr. Petrie!”
I threw off the bedclothes and stepped on to the floor of the cabin, fumbling19 hastily for my slippers20. A fear that something was amiss, that some aftermath, some wraith21 of the dread4 Chinaman, was yet to come to disturb our premature22 peace, began to haunt me. I threw open the door.
Upon the gleaming deck, blackly outlined against a wondrous23 sky, stood a man who wore a blue greatcoat over his pyjamas24, and whose unstockinged feet were thrust into red slippers. It was Platts, the Marconi operator.
“I’m awfully25 sorry to disturb you, Dr. Petrie,” he said, “and I was even less anxious to arouse your neighbor; but somebody seems to be trying to get a message, presumably urgent, through to you.”
“To me!” I cried.
“I cannot make it out,” admitted Platts, running his fingers through disheveled hair, “but I thought it better to arouse you. Will you come up?”
I turned without a word, slipped into my dressing-gown, and with Platts passed aft along the deserted26 deck. The sea was as calm as a great lake. Ahead, on the port bow, an angry flambeau burned redly beneath the peaceful vault27 of the heavens. Platts nodded absently in the direction of the weird28 flames.
“Stromboli,” he said; “we shall be nearly through the Straits by breakfast-time.”
We mounted the narrow stair to the Marconi deck. At the table sat Platts’ assistant with the Marconi attachment29 upon his head—an apparatus30 which always set me thinking of the electric chair.
“Have you got it?” demanded my companion as we entered the room.
“It’s still coming through,” replied the other without moving, “but in the same jerky fashion. Every time I get it, it seems to have gone back to the beginning—just Dr. Petrie—Dr. Petrie.”
“Where is it being sent from?” I asked.
Platts shook his head.
“That’s the mystery,” he declared. “Look!”—and he pointed32 to the table; “according to the Marconi chart, there’s a Messagerie boat due west between us and Marseilles, and the homeward-bound P. & O. which we passed this morning must be getting on that way also, by now. The Isis is somewhere ahead, but I’ve spoken to all these, and the message comes from none of them.”
“Then it may come from Messina.”
“It doesn’t come from Messina,” replied the man at the table, beginning to write rapidly.
“Here it is!” he cried, excitedly; “we’re getting it.”
Stepping in turn to the table, I leaned over between the two and read these words as the operator wrote them down:
Dr. Petrie—my shadow...
I drew a quick breath and gripped Platts’ shoulder harshly. His assistant began fingering the instrument with irritation34.
“Lost it again!” he muttered.
“This message,” I began...
But again the pencil was traveling over the paper:—lies upon you all... end of message.
The operator stood up and unclasped the receivers from his ears. There, high above the sleeping ship’s company, with the carpet of the blue Mediterranean stretched indefinitely about us, we three stood looking at one another. By virtue35 of a miracle of modern science, some one, divided from me by mile upon mile of boundless36 ocean, had spoken—and had been heard.
Platts shook his head, perplexedly.
“They gave no code word,” he said. “God knows who they were. It’s a strange business and a strange message. Have you any sort of idea, Dr. Petrie, respecting the identity of the sender?”
I stared him hard in the face; an idea had mechanically entered my mind, but one of which I did not choose to speak, since it was opposed to human possibility.
But, had I not seen with my own eyes the bloody38 streak39 across his forehead as the shot fired by Karamaneh entered his high skull40, had I not known, so certainly as it is given to man to know, that the giant intellect was no more, the mighty41 will impotent, I should have replied:
“The message is from Dr. Fu-Manchu!”
My reflections were rudely terminated and my sinister42 thoughts given new stimulus43, by a loud though muffled44 cry which reached me from somewhere in the ship, below. Both my companions started as violently as I, whereby I knew that the mystery of the wireless45 message had not been without its effect upon their minds also. But whereas they paused in doubt, I leaped from the room and almost threw myself down the ladder.
It was Karamaneh who had uttered that cry of fear and horror!
Although I could perceive no connection betwixt the strange message and the cry in the night, intuitively I linked them, intuitively I knew that my fears had been well-grounded; that the shadow of Fu-Manchu still lay upon us.
Karamaneh occupied a large stateroom aft on the main deck; so that I had to descend46 from the upper deck on which my own room was situated47 to the promenade48 deck, again to the main deck and thence proceed nearly the whole length of the alleyway.
Karamaneh and her brother, Aziz, who occupied a neighboring room, met me, near the library. Karamaneh’s eyes were wide with fear; her peerless coloring had fled, and she was white to the lips. Aziz, who wore a dressing-gown thrown hastily over his night attire49, had his arm protectively about the girl’s shoulders.
“The mummy!” she whispered tremulously—“the mummy!”
There came a sound of opening doors, and several passengers, whom Karamaneh cries had alarmed, appeared in various stages of undress. A stewardess50 came running from the far end of the alleyway, and I found time to wonder at my own speed; for, starting from the distant Marconi deck, yet I had been the first to arrive upon the scene.
Stacey, the ship’s doctor, was quartered at no great distance from the spot, and he now joined the group. Anticipating the question which trembled upon the lips of several of those about me:
“Come to Dr. Stacey’s room,” I said, taking Karamaneh arm; “we will give you something to enable you to sleep.” I turned to the group. “My patient has had severe nerve trouble,” I explained, “and has developed somnambulistic tendencies.”
I declined the stewardess’ offer of assistance, with a slight shake of the head, and shortly the four of us entered the doctor’s cabin, on the deck above. Stacey carefully closed the door. He was an old fellow student of mine, and already he knew much of the history of the beautiful Eastern girl and her brother Aziz.
“Thanks to your presence of mind, the ship’s gossips need know nothing of it.”
I glanced at Karamaneh who, since the moment of my arrival had never once removed her gaze from me; she remained in that state of passive fear in which I had found her, the lovely face pallid52; and she stared at me fixedly53 in a childish, expressionless way which made me fear that the shock to which she had been subjected, whatever its nature, had caused a relapse into that strange condition of forgetfulness from which a previous shock had aroused her. I could see that Stacey shared my view, for:
“Something has frightened you,” he said gently, seating himself on the arm of Karamaneh’s chair and patting her hand as if to reassure her. “Tell us all about it.”
For the first time since our meeting that night, the girl turned her eyes from me and glanced up at Stacey, a sudden warm blush stealing over her face and throat and as quickly departing, to leave her even more pale than before. She grasped Stacey’s hand in both her own—and looked again at me.
“Send for Mr. Nayland Smith without delay!” she said, and her sweet voice was slightly tremulous. “He must be put on his guard!”
I started up.
“Why?” I said. “For God’s sake tell us what has happened!”
Aziz who evidently was as anxious as myself for information, and who now knelt at his sister’s feet looking at her with that strange love, which was almost adoration54, in his eyes, glanced back at me and nodded his head rapidly.
“Something”—Karamaneh paused, shuddering55 violently—“some dreadful thing, like a mummy escaped from its tomb, came into my room to-night through the porthole...”
“Through the porthole?” echoed Stacey, amazedly.
“Yes, yes, through the porthole! A creature tall and very, very thin. He wore wrappings—yellow wrappings—swathed about his head, so that only his eyes, his evil gleaming eyes, were visible.... From waist to knees he was covered, also, but his body, his feet, and his legs were bare...”
“Was he—?” I began...
“He was a brown man, yes,”—Karamaneh divining my question, nodded, and the shimmering56 cloud of her wonderful hair, hastily confined, burst free and rippled57 about her shoulders. “A gaunt, fleshless brown man, who bent, and writhed58 bony fingers—so!”
“A thug!” I cried.
“He—it—the mummy thing—would have strangled me if I had slept, for he crouched59 over the berth—seeking—seeking...”
“But I was sitting up—”
“With the light on?” interrupted Stacey in surprise.
“No,” added Karamaneh; “the light was out.” She turned her eyes toward me, as the wonderful blush overspread her face once more. “I was sitting thinking. It all happened within a few seconds, and quite silently. As the mummy crouched over the berth, I unlocked the door and leaped out into the passage. I think I screamed; I did not mean to. Oh, Dr. Stacey, there is not a moment to spare! Mr. Nayland Smith must be warned immediately. Some horrible servant of Dr. Fu-Manchu is on the ship!”
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收听单词发音
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1
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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2
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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3
recuperating
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| v.恢复（健康、体力等），复原( recuperate的现在分词 ) | |
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4
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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5
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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6
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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7
hazily
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| ad. vaguely, not clear | |
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8
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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9
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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10
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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11
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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12
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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13
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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14
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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15
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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16
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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17
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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18
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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19
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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20
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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21
wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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22
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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23
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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24
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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25
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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26
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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27
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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28
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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29
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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30
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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31
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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32
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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33
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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34
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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35
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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36
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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37
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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38
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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39
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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40
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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41
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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42
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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43
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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44
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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45
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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46
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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47
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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48
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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49
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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50
stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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51
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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52
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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53
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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54
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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55
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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56
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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57
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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