The felon1 Rufus Dawes had stretched himself in his bunk2 and tried to sleep. But though he was tired and sore, and his head felt like lead, he could not but keep broad awake. The long pull through the pure air, if it had tired him, had revived him, and he felt stronger; but for all that, the fatal sickness that was on him maintained its hold; his pulse beat thickly, and his brain throbbed3 with unnatural4 heat. Lying in his narrow space — in the semi-darkness — he tossed his limbs about, and closed his eyes in vain — he could not sleep. His utmost efforts induced only an oppressive stagnation5 of thought, through which he heard the voices of his fellow-convicts; while before his eyes was still the burning Hydaspes — that vessel6 whose destruction had destroyed for ever all trace of the unhappy Richard Devine.
It was fortunate for his comfort, perhaps, that the man who had been chosen to accompany him was of a talkative turn, for the prisoners insisted upon hearing the story of the explosion a dozen times over, and Rufus Dawes himself had been roused to give the name of the vessel with his own lips. Had it not been for the hideous7 respect in which he was held, it is possible that he might have been compelled to give his version also, and to join in the animated8 discussion which took place upon the possibility of the saving of the fugitive10 crew. As it was, however, he was left in peace, and lay unnoticed, trying to sleep.
The detachment of fifty being on deck — airing — the prison was not quite so hot as at night, and many of the convicts made up for their lack of rest by snatching a dog-sleep in the bared bunks11. The four volunteer oarsmen were allowed to “take it out.”
As yet there had been no alarm of fever. The three seizures12 had excited some comment, however, and had it not been for the counter-excitement of the burning ship, it is possible that Pine’s precaution would have been thrown away. The “Old Hands”— who had been through the Passage before — suspected, but said nothing, save among themselves. It was likely that the weak and sickly would go first, and that there would be more room for those remaining. The Old Hands were satisfied.
Three of these Old Hands were conversing13 together just behind the partition of Dawes’s bunk. As we have said, the berths14 were five feet square, and each contained six men. No. 10, the berth15 occupied by Dawes, was situated16 on the corner made by the joining of the starboard and centre lines, and behind it was a slight recess17, in which the scuttle18 was fixed19. His “mates” were at present but three in number, for John Rex and the cockney tailor had been removed to the hospital. The three that remained were now in deep conversation in the shelter of the recess. Of these, the giant — who had the previous night asserted his authority in the prison — seemed to be the chief. His name was Gabbett. He was a returned convict, now on his way to undergo a second sentence for burglary. The other two were a man named Sanders, known as the “Moocher”, and Jemmy Vetch, the Crow. They were talking in whispers, but Rufus Dawes, lying with his head close to the partition, was enabled to catch much of what they said.
At first the conversation turned on the catastrophe20 of the burning ship and the likelihood of saving the crew. From this it grew to anecdote21 of wreck22 and adventure, and at last Gabbett said something which made the listener start from his indifferent efforts to slumber23, into sudden broad wakefulness.
It was the mention of his own name, coupled with that of the woman he had met on the quarter-deck, that roused him.
“I saw her speaking to Dawes yesterday,” said the giant, with an oath. “We don’t want no more than we’ve got. I ain’t goin’ to risk my neck for Rex’s woman’s fancies, and so I’ll tell her.”
“It was something about the kid,” says the Crow, in his elegant slang. “I don’t believe she ever saw him before. Besides, she’s nuts on Jack24, and ain’t likely to pick up with another man.”
“If I thort she was agoin’ to throw us over, I’d cut her throat as soon as look at her!” snorts Gabbett savagely25.
“Jack ud have a word in that,” snuffles the Moocher; “and he’s a curious cove27 to quarrel with.”
“Well, stow yer gaff,” grumbled28 Mr. Gabbett, “and let’s have no more chaff29. If we’re for bizness, let’s come to bizness.”
“What are we to do now?” asked the Moocher. “Jack’s on the sick list, and the gal30 won’t stir a’thout him.”
“Ay,” returned Gabbett, “that’s it.”
“My dear friends,” said the Crow, “my keyind and keristian friends, it is to be regretted that when natur’ gave you such tremendously thick skulls31, she didn’t put something inside of ’em. I say that now’s the time. Jack’s in the ’orspital; what of that? That don’t make it no better for him, does it? Not a bit of it; and if he drops his knife and fork, why then, it’s my opinion that the gal won’t stir a peg32. It’s on his account, not ours, that she’s been manoovering, ain’t it?”
“Well!” says Mr. Gabbett, with the air of one who was but partly convinced, “I s’pose it is.”
“All the more reason of getting it off quick. Another thing, when the boys know there’s fever aboard, you’ll see the rumpus there’ll be. They’ll be ready enough to join us then. Once get the snapper chest, and we’re right as ninepenn’orth o’ hapence.”
This conversation, interspersed33 with oaths and slang as it was, had an intense interest for Rufus Dawes. Plunged34 into prison, hurriedly tried, and by reason of his surroundings ignorant of the death of his father and his own fortune, he had hitherto — in his agony and sullen36 gloom — held aloof37 from the scoundrels who surrounded him, and repelled38 their hideous advances of friendship. He now saw his error. He knew that the name he had once possessed39 was blotted40 out, that any shred41 of his old life which had clung to him hitherto, was shrivelled in the fire that consumed the “Hydaspes”. The secret, for the preservation42 of which Richard Devine had voluntarily flung away his name, and risked a terrible and disgraceful death, would be now for ever safe; for Richard Devine was dead — lost at sea with the crew of the ill-fated vessel in which, deluded43 by a skilfully-sent letter from the prison, his mother believed him to have sailed. Richard Devine was dead, and the secret of his birth would die with him. Rufus Dawes, his alter ego44, alone should live. Rufus Dawes, the convicted felon, the suspected murderer, should live to claim his freedom, and work out his vengeance45; or, rendered powerful by the terrible experience of the prison-sheds, should seize both, in defiance46 of gaol47 or gaoler.
With his head swimming, and his brain on fire, he eagerly listened for more. It seemed as if the fever which burnt in his veins48 had consumed the grosser part of his sense, and given him increased power of hearing. He was conscious that he was ill. His bones ached, his hands burned, his head throbbed, but he could hear distinctly, and, he thought, reason on what he heard profoundly.
“But we can’t stir without the girl,” Gabbett said. “She’s got to stall off the sentry49 and give us the orfice.”
The Crow’s sallow features lighted up with a cunning smile.
“Dear old caper50 merchant! Hear him talk!” said he, “as if he had the wisdom of Solomon in all his glory? Look here!”
And he produced a dirty scrap51 of paper, over which his companions eagerly bent52 their heads.
“Where did yer get that?”
“Yesterday afternoon Sarah was standing53 on the poop throwing bits o’ toke to the gulls54, and I saw her a-looking at me very hard. At last she came down as near the barricade55 as she dared, and throwed crumbs56 and such like up in the air over the side. By and by a pretty big lump, doughed up round, fell close to my foot, and, watching a favourable57 opportunity, I pouched58 it. Inside was this bit o’ rag-bag.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Gabbett, “that’s more like. Read it out, Jemmy.”
The writing, though feminine in character, was bold and distinct. Sarah had evidently been mindful of the education of her friends, and had desired to give them as little trouble as possible.
“All is right. Watch me when I come up to-morrow evening at three bells. If I drop my handkerchief, get to work at the time agreed on. The sentry will be safe.”
Rufus Dawes, though his eyelids59 would scarcely keep open, and a terrible lassitude almost paralysed his limbs, eagerly drank in the whispered sentence. There was a conspiracy60 to seize the ship. Sarah Purfoy was in league with the convicts — was herself the wife or mistress of one of them. She had come on board armed with a plot for his release, and this plot was about to be put in execution. He had heard of the atrocities61 perpetrated by successful mutineers. Story after story of such nature had often made the prison resound62 with horrible mirth. He knew the characters of the three ruffians who, separated from him by but two inches of planking, jested and laughed over their plans of freedom and vengeance. Though he conversed63 but little with his companions, these men were his berth mates, and he could not but know how they would proceed to wreak64 their vengeance on their gaolers.
True, that the head of this formidable chimera65 — John Rex, the forger66 — was absent, but the two hands, or rather claws — the burglar and the prison-breaker — were present, and the slimly-made, effeminate Crow, if he had not the brains of the master, yet made up for his flaccid muscles and nerveless frame by a cat-like cunning, and a spirit of devilish volatility67 that nothing could subdue68. With such a powerful ally outside as the mock maid-servant, the chance of success was enormously increased. There were one hundred and eighty convicts and but fifty soldiers. If the first rush proved successful — and the precautions taken by Sarah Purfoy rendered success possible — the vessel was theirs. Rufus Dawes thought of the little bright-haired child who had run so confidingly69 to meet him, and shuddered70.
“There!” said the Crow, with a sneering71 laugh, “what do you think of that? Does the girl look like nosing us now?”
“No,” says the giant, stretching his great arms with a grin of delight, as one stretches one’s chest in the sun, “that’s right, that is. That’s more like bizness.”
“England, home and beauty!” said Vetch, with a mock-heroic air, strangely out of tune35 with the subject under discussion. “You’d like to go home again, wouldn’t you, old man?”
Gabbett turned on him fiercely, his low forehead wrinkled into a frown of ferocious72 recollection.
“You!” he said —“You think the chain’s fine sport, don’t yer? But I’ve been there, my young chicken, and I knows what it means.”
There was silence for a minute or two. The giant was plunged in gloomy abstraction, and Vetch and the Moocher interchanged a significant glance. Gabbett had been ten years at the colonial penal73 settlement of Macquarie Harbour, and he had memories that he did not confide74 to his companions. When he indulged in one of these fits of recollection, his friends found it best to leave him to himself.
Rufus Dawes did not understand the sudden silence. With all his senses stretched to the utmost to listen, the cessation of the whispered colloquy75 affected76 him strangely. Old artillery-men have said that, after being at work for days in the trenches77, accustomed to the continued roar of the guns, a sudden pause in the firing will cause them intense pain. Something of this feeling was experienced by Rufus Dawes. His faculties78 of hearing and thinking — both at their highest pitch — seemed to break down. It was as though some prop79 had been knocked from under him. No longer stimulated80 by outward sounds, his senses appeared to fail him. The blood rushed into his eyes and ears. He made a violent, vain effort to retain his consciousness, but with a faint cry fell back, striking his head against the edge of the bunk.
The noise roused the burglar in an instant. There was someone in the berth! The three looked into each other’s eyes, in guilty alarm, and then Gabbett dashed round the partition.
“It’s Dawes!” said the Moocher. “We had forgotten him!”
“He’ll join us, mate — he’ll join us!” cried Vetch, fearful of bloodshed.
Gabbett uttered a furious oath, and flinging himself on to the prostrate81 figure, dragged it, head foremost, to the floor. The sudden vertigo82 had saved Rufus Dawes’s life. The robber twisted one brawny83 hand in his shirt, and pressing the knuckles84 down, prepared to deliver a blow that should for ever silence the listener, when Vetch caught his arm. “He’s been asleep,” he cried. “Don’t hit him! See, he’s not awake yet.”
A crowd gathered round. The giant relaxed his grip, but the convict gave only a deep groan85, and allowed his head to fall on his shoulder. “You’ve killed him!” cried someone.
Gabbett took another look at the purpling face and the bedewed forehead, and then sprang erect86, rubbing at his right hand, as though he would rub off something sticking there.
“He’s got the fever!” he roared, with a terror-stricken grimace87.
“The what?” asked twenty voices.
“The fever, ye grinning fools!” cried Gabbett. “I’ve seen it before to-day. The typhus is aboard, and he’s the fourth man down!”
The circle of beast-like faces, stretched forward to “see the fight,” widened at the half-uncomprehended, ill-omened word. It was as though a bombshell had fallen into the group. Rufus Dawes lay on the deck motionless, breathing heavily. The savage26 circle glared at his prostrate body. The alarm ran round, and all the prison crowded down to stare at him. All at once he uttered a groan, and turning, propped88 his body on his two rigid89 arms, and made an effort to speak. But no sound issued from his convulsed jaws90.
“He’s done,” said the Moocher brutally91. “He didn’t hear nuffin’, I’ll pound it.”
The noise of the heavy bolts shooting back broke the spell. The first detachment were coming down from “exercise.” The door was flung back, and the bayonets of the guard gleamed in a ray of sunshine that shot down the hatchway. This glimpse of sunlight — sparkling at the entrance of the foetid and stifling92 prison — seemed to mock their miseries93. It was as though Heaven laughed at them. By one of those terrible and strange impulses which animate9 crowds, the mass, turning from the sick man, leapt towards the doorway94. The interior of the prison flashed white with suddenly turned faces. The gloom scintillated95 with rapidly moving hands. “Air! air! Give us air!”
“That’s it!” said Sanders to his companions. “I thought the news would rouse ’em.”
Gabbett — all the savage in his blood stirred by the sight of flashing eyes and wrathful faces — would have thrown himself forward with the rest, but Vetch plucked him back.
“It’ll be over in a moment,” he said. “It’s only a fit they’ve got.” He spoke96 truly. Through the uproar97 was heard the rattle98 of iron on iron, as the guard “stood to their arms,” and the wedge of grey cloth broke, in sudden terror of the levelled muskets99.
There was an instant’s pause, and then old Pine walked, unmolested, down the prison and knelt by the body of Rufus Dawes.
The sight of the familiar figure, so calmly performing its familiar duty, restored all that submission100 to recognized authority which strict discipline begets101. The convicts slunk away into their berths, or officiously ran to help “the doctor,” with affectation of intense obedience102. The prison was like a schoolroom, into which the master had suddenly returned. “Stand back, my lads! Take him up, two of you, and carry him to the door. The poor fellow won’t hurt you.” His orders were obeyed, and the old man, waiting until his patient had been safely received outside, raised his hand to command attention. “I see you know what I have to tell. The fever has broken out. That man has got it. It is absurd to suppose that no one else will be seized. I might catch it myself. You are much crowded down here, I know; but, my lads, I can’t help that; I didn’t make the ship, you know.” “ ’Ear, ’ear!”
“It is a terrible thing, but you must keep orderly and quiet, and bear it like men. You know what the discipline is, and it is not in my power to alter it. I shall do my best for your comfort, and I look to you to help me.”
Holding his grey head very erect indeed, the brave old fellow passed straight down the line, without looking to the right or left. He had said just enough, and he reached the door amid a chorus of “’Ear, ’ear!” “Bravo!” “True for you, docther!” and so on. But when he got fairly outside, he breathed more freely. He had performed a ticklish103 task, and he knew it.
“’Ark at ’em,” growled104 the Moocher from his corner, “a-cheerin’ at the bloody105 noos!”
“Wait a bit,” said the acuter intelligence of Jemmy Vetch. “Give ’em time. There’ll be three or four more down afore night, and then we’ll see!”
收听单词发音 |
1
felon
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| n.重罪犯；adj.残忍的 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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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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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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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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seizures
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| n.起获( seizure的名词复数 )；没收；充公；起获的赃物 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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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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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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51
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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pouched
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| adj.袋形的，有袋的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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resound
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| v.回响 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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chimera
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| n.神话怪物；梦幻 | |
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forger
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| v.伪造；n.（钱、文件等的）伪造者 | |
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volatility
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| n.挥发性，挥发度，轻快，（性格）反复无常 | |
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subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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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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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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103
ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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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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