It was late in the afternoon when Sarah Purfoy awoke from her uneasy slumber1. She had been dreaming of the deed she was about to do, and was flushed and feverish2; but, mindful of the consequences which hung upon the success or failure of the enterprise, she rallied herself, bathed her face and hands, and ascended3 with as calm an air as she could assume to the poop-deck.
Nothing was changed since yesterday. The sentries4’ arms glittered in the pitiless sunshine, the ship rolled and creaked on the swell5 of the dreamy sea, and the prison-cage on the lower deck was crowded with the same cheerless figures, disposed in the attitudes of the day before. Even Mr. Maurice Frere, recovered from his midnight fatigues7, was lounging on the same coil of rope, in precisely8 the same position .
Yet the eye of an acute observer would have detected some difference beneath this outward varnish9 of similarity. The man at the wheel looked round the horizon more eagerly, and spit into the swirling10, unwholesome-looking water with a more dejected air than before. The fishing-lines still hung dangling11 over the catheads, but nobody touched them. The soldiers and sailors on the forecastle, collected in knots, had no heart even to smoke, but gloomily stared at each other. Vickers was in the cuddy writing; Blunt was in his cabin; and Pine, with two carpenters at work under his directions, was improvising12 increased hospital accommodation. The noise of mallet13 and hammer echoed in the soldiers’ berth14 ominously15; the workmen might have been making coffins16. The prison was strangely silent, with the lowering silence which precedes a thunderstorm; and the convicts on deck no longer told stories, nor laughed at obscene jests, but sat together, moodily17 patient, as if waiting for something. Three men — two prisoners and a soldier — had succumbed18 since Rufus Dawes had been removed to the hospital; and though as yet there had been no complaint or symptom of panic, the face of each man, soldier, sailor, or prisoner, wore an expectant look, as though he wondered whose turn would come next. On the ship — rolling ceaselessly from side to side, like some wounded creature, on the opaque19 profundity20 of that stagnant21 ocean — a horrible shadow had fallen. The Malabar seemed to be enveloped22 in an electric cloud, whose sullen23 gloom a chance spark might flash into a blaze that should consume her.
The woman who held in her hands the two ends of the chain that would produce this spark, paused, came up upon deck, and, after a glance round, leant against the poop railing, and looked down into the barricade24. As we have said, the prisoners were in knots of four and five, and to one group in particular her glance was directed. Three men, leaning carelessly against the bulwarks25, watched her every motion.
“There she is, right enough,” growled26 Mr. Gabbett, as if in continuation of a previous remark. “Flash as ever, and looking this way, too.”
“I don’t see no wipe,” said the practical Moocher.
“Patience is a virtue27, most noble knuckler!” says the Crow, with affected28 carelessness. “Give the young woman time.”
“Blowed if I’m going to wait no longer,” says the giant, licking his coarse blue lips. “’Ere we’ve been bluffed29 off day arter day, and kep’ dancin’ round the Dandy’s wench like a parcel o’ dogs. The fever’s aboard, and we’ve got all ready. What’s the use o’ waitin’? Orfice, or no orfice, I’m for bizness at once!—”
“— There, look at that,” he added, with an oath, as the figure of Maurice Frere appeared side by side with that of the waiting-maid, and the two turned away up the deck together.
“It’s all right, you confounded muddlehead!” cried the Crow, losing patience with his perverse30 and stupid companion. “How can she give us the office with that cove6 at her elbow?”
Gabbett’s only reply to this question was a ferocious31 grunt32, and a sudden elevation33 of his clenched34 fist, which caused Mr. Vetch to retreat precipitately35. The giant did not follow; and Mr. Vetch, folding his arms, and assuming an attitude of easy contempt, directed his attention to Sarah Purfoy. She seemed an object of general attraction, for at the same moment a young soldier ran up the ladder to the forecastle, and eagerly bent36 his gaze in her direction.
Maurice Frere had come behind her and touched her on the shoulder. Since their conversation the previous evening, he had made up his mind to be fooled no longer. The girl was evidently playing with him, and he would show her that he was not to be trifled with.
“Well, Sarah!”
“Well, Mr. Frere,” dropping her hand, and turning round with a smile.
“How well you are looking to-day! Positively37 lovely!”
“You have told me that so often,” says she, with a pout38. “Have you nothing else to say?”
“Except that I love you.” This in a most impassioned manner.
“That is no news. I know you do.”
“Curse it, Sarah, what is a fellow to do?” His profligacy39 was failing him rapidly. “What is the use of playing fast and loose with a fellow this way?”
“A ‘fellow’ should be able to take care of himself, Mr. Frere. I didn’t ask you to fall in love with me, did I? If you don’t please me, it is not your fault, perhaps.”
“What do you mean?”
“You soldiers have so many things to think of — your guards and sentries, and visits and things. You have no time to spare for a poor woman like me.”
“Spare!” cries Frere, in amazement40. “Why, damme, you won’t let a fellow spare! I’d spare fast enough, if that was all.” She cast her eyes down to the deck and a modest flush rose in her cheeks. “I have so much to do,” she said, in a half-whisper. “There are so many eyes upon me, I cannot stir without being seen.”
She raised her head as she spoke41, and to give effect to her words, looked round the deck. Her glance crossed that of the young soldier on the forecastle, and though the distance was too great for her to distinguish his features, she guessed who he was — Miles was jealous. Frere, smiling with delight at her change of manner, came close to her, and whispered in her ear. She affected to start, and took the opportunity of exchanging a signal with the Crow.
“I will come at eight o’clock,” said she, with modestly averted43 face.
“They relieve the guard at eight,” he said deprecatingly.
She tossed her head. “Very well, then, attend to your guard; I don’t care.”
“But, Sarah, consider —”
“As if a woman in love ever considers!” said she, turning upon him a burning glance, which in truth might have melted a more icy man than he.
— She loved him then! What a fool he would be to refuse. To get her to come was the first object; how to make duty fit with pleasure would be considered afterwards. Besides, the guard could relieve itself for once without his supervision44.
“Very well, at eight then, dearest.”
“Hush!” said she. “Here comes that stupid captain.”
And as Frere left her, she turned, and with her eyes fixed45 on the convict barricade, dropped the handkerchief she held in her hand over the poop railing. It fell at the feet of the amorous46 captain, and with a quick upward glance, that worthy47 fellow picked it up, and brought it to her.
“Oh, thank you, Captain Blunt,” said she, and her eyes spoke more than her tongue.
“Did you take the laudanum?” whispered Blunt, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Some of it,” said she. “I will bring you back the bottle to-night.”
Blunt walked aft, humming cheerily, and saluted48 Frere with a slap on the back. The two men laughed, each at his own thoughts, but their laughter only made the surrounding gloom seem deeper than before.
Sarah Purfoy, casting her eyes toward the barricade, observed a change in the position of the three men. They were together once more, and the Crow, having taken off his prison cap, held it at arm’s length with one hand, while he wiped his brow with the other. Her signal had been observed.
During all this, Rufus Dawes, removed to the hospital, was lying flat on his back, staring at the deck above him, trying to think of something he wanted to say.
When the sudden faintness, which was the prelude49 to his sickness, had overpowered him, he remembered being torn out of his bunk50 by fierce hands — remembered a vision of savage51 faces, and the presence of some danger that menaced him. He remembered that, while lying on his blankets, struggling with the coming fever, he had overheard a conversation of vital importance to himself and to the ship, but of the purport52 of that conversation he had not the least idea. In vain he strove to remember — in vain his will, struggling with delirium53, brought back snatches and echoes of sense; they slipped from him again as fast as caught. He was oppressed with the weight of half-recollected thought. He knew that a terrible danger menaced him; that could he but force his brain to reason connectedly for ten consecutive54 minutes, he could give such information as would avert42 that danger, and save the ship. But, lying with hot head, parched55 lips, and enfeebled body, he was as one possessed56 — he could move nor hand nor foot.
The place where he lay was but dimly lighted. The ingenuity57 of Pine had constructed a canvas blind over the port, to prevent the sun striking into the cabin, and this blind absorbed much of the light. He could but just see the deck above his head, and distinguish the outlines of three other berths58, apparently59 similar to his own. The only sounds that broke the silence were the gurgling of the water below him, and the Tap tap, Tap tap, of Pine’s hammers at work upon the new partition. By and by the noise of these hammers ceased, and then the sick man could hear gasps60, and moans, and mutterings — the signs that his companions yet lived.
All at once a voice called out, “Of course his bills are worth four hundred pounds; but, my good sir, four hundred pounds to a man in my position is not worth the getting. Why, I’ve given four hundred pounds for a freak of my girl Sarah! Is it right, eh, Jezebel? She’s a good girl, though, as girls go. Mrs. Lionel Crofton, of the Crofts, Sevenoaks, Kent — Sevenoaks, Kent — Seven ——”
A gleam of light broke in on the darkness which wrapped Rufus Dawes’s tortured brain. The man was John Rex, his berth mate. With an effort he spoke.
“Rex!”
“Yes, yes. I’m coming; don’t be in a hurry. The sentry’s safe, and the howitzer is but five paces from the door. A rush upon deck, lads, and she’s ours! That is, mine. Mine and my wife’s, Mrs. Lionel Crofton, of Seven Crofts, no oaks — Sarah Purfoy, lady’s -maid and nurse — ha! ha!— lady’s-maid and nurse!”
This last sentence contained the name-clue to the labyrinth61 in which Rufus Dawes’s bewildered intellects were wandering. “Sarah Purfoy!” He remembered now each detail of the conversation he had so strangely overheard, and how imperative62 it was that he should, without delay, reveal the plot that threatened the ship. How that plot was to be carried out, he did not pause to consider; he was conscious that he was hanging over the brink63 of delirium, and that, unless he made himself understood before his senses utterly64 deserted65 him, all was lost.
He attempted to rise, but found that his fever-thralled limbs refused to obey the impulse of his will. He made an effort to speak, but his tongue clove66 to the roof of his mouth, and his jaws67 stuck together. He could not raise a finger nor utter a sound. The boards over his head waved like a shaken sheet, and the cabin whirled round, while the patch of light at his feet bobbed up and down like the reflection from a wavering candle. He closed his eyes with a terrible sigh of despair, and resigned himself to his fate. At that instant the sound of hammering ceased, and the door opened. It was six o’clock, and Pine had come to have a last look at his patients before dinner. It seemed that there was somebody with him, for a kind, though somewhat pompous68, voice remarked upon the scantiness69 of accommodation, and the “necessity — the absolute necessity” of complying with the King’s Regulations.
Honest Vickers, though agonized70 for the safety of his child, would not abate71 a jot72 of his duty, and had sternly come to visit the sick men, aware as he was that such a visit would necessitate73 his isolation74 from the cabin where his child lay. Mrs. Vickers — weeping and bewailing herself coquettishly at garrison75 parties — had often said that “poor dear John was such a disciplinarian, quite a slave to the service.”
“Here they are,” said Pine; “six of ’em. This fellow”— going to the side of Rex —“is the worst. If he had not a constitution like a horse, I don’t think he could live out the night.”
“Three, eighteen, seven, four,” muttered Rex; “dot and carry one. Is that an occupation for a gentleman? No, sir. Good night, my lord, good night. Hark! The clock is striking nine; five, six, seven, eight! Well, you’ve had your day, and can’t complain.”
“A dangerous fellow,” says Pine, with the light upraised. “A very dangerous fellow — that is, he was. This is the place, you see — a regular rat-hole; but what can one do?”
“Come, let us get on deck,” said Vickers, with a shudder76 of disgust.
Rufus Dawes felt the sweat break out into beads77 on his forehead. They suspected nothing. They were going away. He must warn them. With a violent effort, in his agony he turned over in the bunk and thrust out his hand from the blankets.
“Hullo! what’s this?” cried Pine, bringing the lantern to bear upon it. “Lie down, my man. Eh!— water, is it? There, steady with it now”; and he lifted a pannikin to the blackened, froth-fringed lips. The cool draught78 moistened his parched gullet, and the convict made a last effort to speak.
“Sarah Purfoy — to-night — the prison — MUTINY!”
The last word, almost shrieked79 out, in the sufferer’s desperate efforts to articulate, recalled the wandering senses of John Rex.
“Hush!” he cried. “Is that you, Jemmy? Sarah’s right. Wait till she gives the word.”
“He’s raving,” said Vickers.
Pine caught the convict by the shoulder. “What do you say, my man? A mutiny of the prisoners!”
With his mouth agape and his hands clenched, Rufus Dawes, incapable80 of further speech, made a last effort to nod assent81, but his head fell upon his breast; the next moment, the flickering82 light, the gloomy prison, the eager face of the doctor, and the astonished face of Vickers, vanished from before his straining eyes. He saw the two men stare at each other, in mingled83 incredulity and alarm, and then he was floating down the cool brown river of his boyhood, on his way — in company with Sarah Purfoy and Lieutenant84 Frere — to raise the mutiny of the Hydaspes, that lay on the stocks in the old house at Hampstead.
收听单词发音 |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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fatigues
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| n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 )；杂役；厌倦；（士兵穿的）工作服 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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improvising
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| 即兴创作（improvise的现在分词形式） | |
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mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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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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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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profundity
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| n.渊博；深奥，深刻 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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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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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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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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bluffed
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| 以假象欺骗，吹牛( bluff的过去式和过去分词 )； 以虚张声势找出或达成 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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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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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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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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precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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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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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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profligacy
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| n.放荡，不检点，肆意挥霍 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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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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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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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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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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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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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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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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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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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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69
scantiness
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| n.缺乏 | |
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70
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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71
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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72
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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73
necessitate
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| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
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74
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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75
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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76
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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77
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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78
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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79
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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81
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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82
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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83
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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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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