In the breathless stillness of a tropical afternoon, when the air was hot and heavy, and the sky brazen1 and cloudless, the shadow of the Malabar lay solitary2 on the surface of the glittering sea.
The sun — who rose on the left hand every morning a blazing ball, to move slowly through the unbearable3 blue, until he sank fiery4 red in mingling5 glories of sky and ocean on the right hand — had just got low enough to peep beneath the awning6 that covered the poop-deck, and awaken7 a young man, in an undress military uniform, who was dozing8 on a coil of rope.
“Hang it!” said he, rising and stretching himself, with the weary sigh of a man who has nothing to do, “I must have been asleep”; and then, holding by a stay, he turned about and looked down into the waist of the ship.
Save for the man at the wheel and the guard at the quarter-railing, he was alone on the deck. A few birds flew round about the vessel9, and seemed to pass under her stern windows only to appear again at her bows. A lazy albatross, with the white water flashing from his wings, rose with a dabbling10 sound to leeward11, and in the place where he had been glided12 the hideous13 fin14 of a silently-swimming shark. The seams of the well-scrubbed deck were sticky with melted pitch, and the brass15 plate of the compass-case sparkled in the sun like a jewel. There was no breeze, and as the clumsy ship rolled and lurched on the heaving sea, her idle sails flapped against her masts with a regularly recurring17 noise, and her bowsprit would seem to rise higher with the water’s swell18, to dip again with a jerk that made each rope tremble and tauten19. On the forecastle, some half-dozen soldiers, in all varieties of undress, were playing at cards, smoking, or watching the fishing-lines hanging over the catheads.
So far the appearance of the vessel differed in nowise from that of an ordinary transport. But in the waist a curious sight presented itself. It was as though one had built a cattle-pen there. At the foot of the foremast, and at the quarter-deck, a strong barricade20, loop-holed and furnished with doors for ingress and egress21, ran across the deck from bulwark22 to bulwark. Outside this cattle-pen an armed sentry23 stood on guard; inside, standing24, sitting, or walking monotonously25, within range of the shining barrels in the arm chest on the poop, were some sixty men and boys, dressed in uniform grey. The men and boys were prisoners of the Crown, and the cattle-pen was their exercise ground. Their prison was down the main hatchway, on the ’tween decks, and the barricade, continued down, made its side walls.
It was the fag end of the two hours’ exercise graciously permitted each afternoon by His Majesty26 King George the Fourth to prisoners of the Crown, and the prisoners of the Crown were enjoying themselves. It was not, perhaps, so pleasant as under the awning on the poop-deck, but that sacred shade was only for such great men as the captain and his officers, Surgeon Pine, Lieutenant27 Maurice Frere, and, most important personages of all, Captain Vickers and his wife.
That the convict leaning against the bulwarks28 would like to have been able to get rid of his enemy the sun for a moment, was probable enough. His companions, sitting on the combings of the main-hatch, or crouched29 in careless fashion on the shady side of the barricade, were laughing and talking, with blasphemous30 and obscene merriment hideous to contemplate31; but he, with cap pulled over his brows, and hands thrust into the pockets of his coarse grey garments, held aloof32 from their dismal33 joviality34.
The sun poured his hottest rays on his head unheeded, and though every cranny and seam in the deck sweltered hot pitch under the fierce heat, the man stood there, motionless and morose35, staring at the sleepy sea. He had stood thus, in one place or another, ever since the groaning36 vessel had escaped from the rollers of the Bay of Biscay, and the miserable37 hundred and eighty creatures among whom he was classed had been freed from their irons, and allowed to sniff38 fresh air twice a day.
The low-browed, coarse-featured ruffians grouped about the deck cast many a leer of contempt at the solitary figure, but their remarks were confined to gestures only. There are degrees in crime, and Rufus Dawes, the convicted felon39, who had but escaped the gallows40 to toil41 for all his life in irons, was a man of mark. He had been tried for the robbery and murder of Lord Bellasis. The friendless vagabond’s lame42 story of finding on the Heath a dying man would not have availed him, but for the curious fact sworn to by the landlord of the Spaniards’ Inn, that the murdered nobleman had shaken his head when asked if the prisoner was his assassin. The vagabond was acquitted43 of the murder, but condemned44 to death for the robbery, and London, who took some interest in the trial, considered him fortunate when his sentence was commuted45 to transportation for life.
It was customary on board these floating prisons to keep each man’s crime a secret from his fellows, so that if he chose, and the caprice of his gaolers allowed him, he could lead a new life in his adopted home, without being taunted46 with his former misdeeds. But, like other excellent devices, the expedient48 was only a nominal49 one, and few out of the doomed50 hundred and eighty were ignorant of the offence which their companions had committed. The more guilty boasted of their superiority in vice47; the petty criminals swore that their guilt51 was blacker than it appeared. Moreover, a deed so bloodthirsty and a respite52 so unexpected, had invested the name of Rufus Dawes with a grim distinction, which his superior mental abilities, no less than his haughty53 temper and powerful frame, combined to support. A young man of two-and-twenty owning to no friends, and existing among them but by the fact of his criminality, he was respected and admired. The vilest54 of all the vile55 horde56 penned between decks, if they laughed at his “fine airs” behind his back, cringed and submitted when they met him face to face — for in a convict ship the greatest villain57 is the greatest hero, and the only nobility acknowledged by that hideous commonwealth58 is that Order of the Halter which is conferred by the hand of the hangman.
The young man on the poop caught sight of the tall figure leaning against the bulwarks, and it gave him an excuse to break the monotony of his employment.
“Here, you!” he called with an oath, “get out of the gangway! “Rufus Dawes was not in the gangway — was, in fact, a good two feet from it, but at the sound of Lieutenant Frere’s voice he started, and went obediently towards the hatchway.
“Touch your hat, you dog!” cries Frere, coming to the quarter-railing. “Touch your damned hat! Do you hear?”
Rufus Dawes touched his cap, saluting59 in half military fashion. “I’ll make some of you fellows smart, if you don’t have a care,” went on the angry Frere, half to himself. “Insolent blackguards!”
And then the noise of the sentry, on the quarter-deck below him, grounding arms, turned the current of his thoughts. A thin, tall, soldier-like man, with a cold blue eye, and prim60 features, came out of the cuddy below, handing out a fair-haired, affected61, mincing62 lady, of middle age. Captain Vickers, of Mr. Frere’s regiment63, ordered for service in Van Diemen’s Land, was bringing his lady on deck to get an appetite for dinner.
Mrs. Vickers was forty-two (she owned to thirty-three), and had been a garrison-belle for eleven weary years before she married prim John Vickers. The marriage was not a happy one. Vickers found his wife extravagant64, vain, and snappish, and she found him harsh, disenchanted, and commonplace. A daughter, born two years after their marriage, was the only link that bound the ill-assorted pair. Vickers idolized little Sylvia, and when the recommendation of a long sea-voyage for his failing health induced him to exchange into the — th, he insisted upon bringing the child with him, despite Mrs. Vickers’s reiterated65 objections on the score of educational difficulties. “He could educate her himself, if need be,” he said; “and she should not stay at home.”
So Mrs. Vickers, after a hard struggle, gave up the point and her dreams of Bath together, and followed her husband with the best grace she could muster66. When fairly out to sea she seemed reconciled to her fate, and employed the intervals67 between scolding her daughter and her maid, in fascinating the boorish68 young Lieutenant, Maurice Frere.
Fascination69 was an integral portion of Julia Vickers’s nature; admiration70 was all she lived for: and even in a convict ship, with her husband at her elbow, she must flirt71, or perish of mental inanition. There was no harm in the creature. She was simply a vain, middle-aged72 woman, and Frere took her attentions for what they were worth. Moreover, her good feeling towards him was useful, for reasons which will shortly appear.
Running down the ladder, cap in hand, he offered her his assistance.
“Thank you, Mr. Frere. These horrid73 ladders. I really — he, he — quite tremble at them. Hot! Yes, dear me, most oppressive. John, the camp-stool. Pray, Mr. Frere — oh, thank you! Sylvia! Sylvia! John, have you my smelling salts? Still a calm, I suppose? These dreadful calms!”
This semi-fashionable slip-slop, within twenty yards of the wild beasts’ den74, on the other side of the barricade, sounded strange; but Mr. Frere thought nothing of it. Familiarity destroys terror, and the incurable75 flirt, fluttered her muslins, and played off her second-rate graces, under the noses of the grinning convicts, with as much complacency as if she had been in a Chatham ball-room. Indeed, if there had been nobody else near, it is not unlikely that she would have disdainfully fascinated the ’tween-decks, and made eyes at the most presentable of the convicts there.
Vickers, with a bow to Frere, saw his wife up the ladder, and then turned for his daughter.
She was a delicate-looking child of six years old, with blue eyes and bright hair. Though indulged by her father, and spoiled by her mother, the natural sweetness of her disposition76 saved her from being disagreeable, and the effects of her education as yet only showed themselves in a thousand imperious prettinesses, which made her the darling of the ship. Little Miss Sylvia was privileged to go anywhere and do anything, and even convictism shut its foul77 mouth in her presence. Running to her father’s side, the child chattered78 with all the volubility of flattered self-esteem. She ran hither and thither79, asked questions, invented answers, laughed, sang, gambolled80, peered into the compass-case, felt in the pockets of the man at the helm, put her tiny hand into the big palm of the officer of the watch, even ran down to the quarter-deck and pulled the coat-tails of the sentry on duty.
At last, tired of running about, she took a little striped leather ball from the bosom81 of her frock, and calling to her father, threw it up to him as he stood on the poop. He returned it, and, shouting with laughter, clapping her hands between each throw, the child kept up the game.
The convicts — whose slice of fresh air was nearly eaten — turned with eagerness to watch this new source of amusement. Innocent laughter and childish prattle82 were strange to them. Some smiled, and nodded with interest in the varying fortunes of the game. One young lad could hardly restrain himself from applauding. It was as though, out of the sultry heat which brooded over the ship, a cool breeze had suddenly arisen.
In the midst of this mirth, the officer of the watch, glancing round the fast crimsoning84 horizon, paused abruptly85, and shading his eyes with his hand, looked out intently to the westward86.
Frere, who found Mrs. Vickers’s conversation a little tiresome87, and had been glancing from time to time at the companion, as though in expectation of someone appearing, noticed the action.
“What is it, Mr. Best?”
“I don’t know exactly. It looks to me like a cloud of smoke.” And, taking the glass, he swept the horizon.
“Let me see,” said Frere; and he looked also.
On the extreme horizon, just to the left of the sinking sun, rested, or seemed to rest, a tiny black cloud. The gold and crimson83, splashed all about the sky, had overflowed88 around it, and rendered a clear view almost impossible.
“I can’t quite make it out,” says Frere, handing back the telescope. “We can see as soon as the sun goes down a little.”
Then Mrs. Vickers must, of course, look also, and was prettily89 affected about the focus of the glass, applying herself to that instrument with much girlish giggling90, and finally declaring, after shutting one eye with her fair hand, that positively91 she “could see nothing but sky, and believed that wicked Mr. Frere was doing it on purpose.”
By and by, Captain Blunt appeared, and, taking the glass from his officer, looked through it long and carefully. Then the mizentop was appealed to, and declared that he could see nothing; and at last the sun went down with a jerk, as though it had slipped through a slit92 in the sea, and the black spot, swallowed up in the gathering93 haze94, was seen no more.
As the sun sank, the relief guard came up the after hatchway, and the relieved guard prepared to superintend the descent of the convicts. At this moment Sylvia missed her ball, which, taking advantage of a sudden lurch16 of the vessel, hopped95 over the barricade, and rolled to the feet of Rufus Dawes, who was still leaning, apparently96 lost in thought, against the side.
The bright spot of colour rolling across the white deck caught his eye; stooping mechanically, he picked up the ball, and stepped forward to return it. The door of the barricade was open and the sentry — a young soldier, occupied in staring at the relief guard — did not notice the prisoner pass through it. In another instant he was on the sacred quarter-deck.
Heated with the game, her cheeks aglow97, her eyes sparkling, her golden hair afloat, Sylvia had turned to leap after her plaything, but even as she turned, from under the shadow of the cuddy glided a rounded white arm; and a shapely hand caught the child by the sash and drew her back. The next moment the young man in grey had placed the toy in her hand.
Maurice Frere, descending98 the poop ladder, had not witnessed this little incident; on reaching the deck, he saw only the unexplained presence of the convict uniform.
“Thank you,” said a voice, as Rufus Dawes stooped before the pouting99 Sylvia.
The convict raised his eyes and saw a young girl of eighteen or nineteen years of age, tall, and well developed, who, dressed in a loose-sleeved robe of some white material, was standing in the doorway100. She had black hair, coiled around a narrow and flat head, a small foot, white skin, well-shaped hands, and large dark eyes, and as she smiled at him, her scarlet101 lips showed her white even teeth.
He knew her at once. She was Sarah Purfoy, Mrs. Vickers’s maid, but he never had been so close to her before; and it seemed to him that he was in the presence of some strange tropical flower, which exhaled102 a heavy and intoxicating103 perfume.
For an instant the two looked at each other, and then Rufus Dawes was seized from behind by his collar, and flung with a shock upon the deck.
Leaping to his feet, his first impulse was to rush upon his assailant, but he saw the ready bayonet of the sentry gleam, and he checked himself with an effort, for his assailant was Mr. Maurice Frere.
“What the devil do you do here?” asked the gentleman with an oath. “You lazy, skulking104 hound, what brings you here? If I catch you putting your foot on the quarter-deck again, I’ll give you a week in irons!”
Rufus Dawes, pale with rage and mortification105, opened his mouth to justify106 himself, but he allowed the words to die on his lips. What was the use? “Go down below, and remember what I’ve told you,” cried Frere; and comprehending at once what had occurred, he made a mental minute of the name of the defaulting sentry.
The convict, wiping the blood from his face, turned on his heel without a word, and went back through the strong oak door into his den. Frere leant forward and took the girl’s shapely hand with an easy gesture, but she drew it away, with a flash of her black eyes.
“You coward!” she said.
The stolid107 soldier close beside them heard it, and his eye twinkled. Frere bit his thick lips with mortification, as he followed the girl into the cuddy. Sarah Purfoy, however, taking the astonished Sylvia by the hand, glided into her mistress’s cabin with a scornful laugh, and shut the door behind her.
收听单词发音 |
1
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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dabbling
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| v.涉猎( dabble的现在分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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tauten
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| vt.& vi.（使某物）变紧；拉紧；绷紧；紧张 | |
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barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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joviality
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| n.快活 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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felon
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| n.重罪犯；adj.残忍的 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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commuted
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| 通勤( commute的过去式和过去分词 )； 减（刑）； 代偿 | |
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taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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53
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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65
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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68
boorish
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| adj.粗野的，乡巴佬的 | |
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69
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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75
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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76
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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77
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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78
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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79
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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80
gambolled
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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82
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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83
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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84
crimsoning
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| 变为深红色（crimson的现在分词形式） | |
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85
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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86
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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87
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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88
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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90
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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92
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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93
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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97
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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98
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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100
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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101
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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102
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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103
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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104
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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105
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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106
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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107
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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