章节正文
peace, of pacific joy, came over him. On deck all was
quiet.
Mr. Massy, with his ear against the door of Jack's
cabin, listened critically to a deep stertorous breathing
within. This was a dead-drunk sleep. The bout was
over: tranquilized on that score, he too went in, and
with slow wriggles got out of his old tweed jacket. It
was a garment with many pockets, which he used to put
on at odd times of the day, being subject to sudden
chilly fits, and when he felt warmed he would take it off
and hang it about anywhere all over the ship. It would
be seen swinging on belaying-pins, thrown over the
heads of winches, suspended on people's very door-
handles for that matter. Was he not the owner? But
his favorite place was a hook on a wooden awning
stanchion on the bridge, almost against the binnacle.
He had even in the early days more than one tussle on
that point with Captain Whalley, who desired the
bridge to be kept tidy. He had been overawed then.
Of late, though, he had been able to defy his partner
with impunity. Captain Whalley never seemed to
notice anything now. As to the Malays, in their awe
of that scowling man not one of the crew would dream
of laying a hand on the thing, no matter where or what
it swung from.
With an unexpectedness which made Mr. Massy jump
and drop the coat at his feet, there came from the next
berth the crash and thud of a headlong, jingling, clat-
tering fall. The faithful Jack must have dropped to
sleep suddenly as he sat at his revels, and now had
gone over chair and all, breaking, as it seemed by the
sound, every single glass and bottle in the place. After
the terrific smash all was still for a time in there, as
though he had killed himself outright on the spot. Mr.
Massy held his breath. At last a sleepyuneasy groan-
ing sigh was exhaled slowly on the other side of the
bulkhead.
"I hope to goodness he's too drunk to wake up now,"
muttered Mr. Massy.
The sound of a softlyknowing laugh nearly drove
him to despair. He swore violently under his breath.
The fool would keep him awake all night now for cer-
tain. He cursed his luck. He wanted to forget his
maddening troubles in sleep sometimes. He could detect
no movements. Without apparently making the slight-
est attempt to get up, Jack went on sniggering to him-
self where he lay; then began to speak, where he had
left off as it were--
"Massy! I love the dirty rascal. He would like to
see his poor old Jack starve--but just you look where
he has climbed to." . . . He hiccoughed in a superior,
leisurely manner. . . . "Ship-owning it with the best.
A lottery ticket you want. Ha! ha! I will give you
lottery tickets, my boy. Let the old ship sink and the
old chum starve--that's right. He don't go wrong--
Massy don't. Not he. He's a genius--that man is.
That's the way to win your money. Ship and chum
must go."
"The silly fool has taken it to heart," muttered Massy
to himself. And, listening with a softened expression
of face for any slight sign of returning drowsiness, he
was discouraged profoundly by a burst of laughter full
of joyful irony.
"Would like to see her at the bottom of the sea! Oh,
you clever, clever devil! Wish her sunk, eh? I should
think you would, my boy; the damned old thing and
all your troubles with her. Rake in the insurance money
--turn your back on your old chum--all's well--gentle-
man again."
A grim stillness had come over Massy's face. Only
his big black eyes rolled uneasily. The raving fool.
And yet it was all true. Yes. Lottery tickets, too.
All true. What? Beginning again? He wished he
wouldn't. . . .
But it was even so. The imaginativedrunkard on
the other side of the bulkhead shook off the deathlike
stillness that after his last words had fallen on the dark
ship moored to a silent shore.
"Don't you dare to say anything against George
Massy, Esquire. When he's tired of waiting he will do
away with her. Look out! Down she goes--chum and
all. He'll know how to . . ."
The voice hesitated, weary, dreamy, lost, as if dying
away in a vast open space.
". . . Find a trick that will work. He's up to it--
never fear . . ."
He must have been very drunk, for at last the heavy
sleep gripped him with the suddenness of a magic spell,
and the last word lengthened itself into an interminable,
noisy, in-drawn snore. And then even the snoring
stopped, and all was still.
But it seemed as though Mr. Massy had suddenly come
to doubt the efficacy of sleep as against a man's troubles;
or perhaps he had found the relief he needed in the
stillness of a calm contemplation that may contain the
vivid thoughts of wealth, of a stroke of luck, of long
idleness, and may bring before you the imagined form
of every desire; for, turning about and throwing his
arms over the edge of his bunk, he stood there with his
feet on his favorite old coat, looking out through the
round port into the night over the river. Sometimes
a breath of wind would enter and touch his face, a cool
breathcharged with the damp, fresh feel from a vast
body of water. A glimmer here and there was all he
could see of it; and once he might after all suppose he
had dozed off, since there appeared before his vision,
unexpectedly and connected with no dream, a row of
flaming and gigantic figures--three naught seven one
two--making up a number such as you may see on a
lottery ticket. And then all at once the port was no
longer black: it was pearly gray, framing a shore
crowded with houses, thatched roof beyond thatched
roof, walls of mats and bamboo, gables of carved teak
timber. Rows of dwellings raised on a forest of piles
lined the steely band of the river, brimful and still, with
the tide at the turn. This was Batu Beru--and the
day had come.
Mr. Massy shook himself, put on the tweed coat, and,
shivering nervously as if from some great shock, made
a note of the number. A fortunate, rare hint that.
Yes; but to pursue fortune one wanted money--ready
cash.
Then he went out and prepared to descend into the
engine-room. Several small jobs had to be seen to, and
Jack was lying dead drunk on the floor of his cabin,
with the door locked at that. His gorge rose at the
thought of work. Ay! But if you wanted to do noth-
ing you had to get first a good bit of money. A
ship won't save you. He cursed the Sofala. True, all
true. He was tired of waiting for some chance that
would rid him at last of that ship that had turned out
a curse on his life.
XIV
The deep, interminable hoot of the steam-whistle had,
in its grave, vibrating note, something intolerable,
which sent a slight shudder down Mr. Van Wyk's back.
It was the early afternoon; the Sofala was leaving Batu
Beru for Pangu, the next place of call. She swung in
the stream, scantily attended by a few canoes, and, glid-
ing on the broad river, became lost to view from the
Van Wyk bungalow.
Its owner had not gone this time to see her off. Gen-
erally he came down to the wharf, exchanged a few
words with the bridge while she cast off, and waved his
hand to Captain Whalley at the last moment. This day
he did not even go as far as the balustrade of the
veranda. "He couldn't see me if I did," he said to
himself. "I wonder whether he can make out the house
at all." And this thought somehow made him feel more
alone than he had ever felt for all these years. What
was it? six or seven? Seven. A long time.
He sat on the veranda with a closed book on his knee,
and, as it were, looked out upon his solitude, as if the
fact of Captain Whalley's blindness had opened his
eyes to his own. There were many sorts of heartaches
and troubles, and there was no place where they could
not find a man out. And he felt ashamed, as though
he had for six years behaved like a peevish boy.
His thought followed the Sofala on her way. On the
spur of the moment he had acted impulsively, turning
to the thing most pressing. And what else could he
have done? Later on he should see. It seemed neces-
sary that he should come out into the world, for a time
at least. He had money--something could be ar-
ranged; he would grudge no time, no trouble, no loss
of his solitude. It weighed on him now--and Captain
Whalley appeared to him as he had sat shading his
eyes, as if, being deceived in the trust of his faith, he
were beyond all the good and evil that can be wrought
by the hands of men.
Mr. Van Wyk's thoughts followed the Sofala down the
river, winding about through the belt of the coast forest,
between the buttressed shafts of the big trees, through
the mangrove strip, and over the bar. The ship crossed
it easily in broad daylight, piloted, as it happened, by
Mr. Sterne, who took the watch from four to six, and
then went below to hug himself with delight at the pros-
pect of being virtually employed by a rich man--like
Mr. Van Wyk. He could not see how any hitch could
occur now. He did not seem able to get over the feeling
of being "fixed up at last." From six to eight, in the
course of duty, the Serang looked alone after the ship.
She had a clear road before her now till about three in
the morning, when she would close with the Pangu
group. At eight Mr. Sterne came out cheerily to take
charge again till midnight. At ten he was still chir-
ruping and humming to himself on the bridge, and
about that time Mr. Van Wyk's thought abandoned the
Sofala. Mr. Van Wyk had fallen asleep at last.
Massy, blocking the engine-room companion, jerked
himself into his tweed jacket surlily, while the second
waited with a scowl.
"Oh. You came out? You sot! Well, what have
you got to say for yourself?"
He had been in charge of the engines till then. A
somber fury darkened his mind: a hot anger against
the ship, against the facts of life, against the men for
their cheating, against himself too--because of an in-
ward tremor of his heart.
An incomprehensible growl answered him.
"What? Can't you open your mouth now? You yelp
quiet.
Mr. Massy, with his ear against the door of Jack's
cabin, listened critically to a deep stertorous breathing
within. This was a dead-drunk sleep. The bout was
over: tranquilized on that score, he too went in, and
with slow wriggles got out of his old tweed jacket. It
was a garment with many pockets, which he used to put
on at odd times of the day, being subject to sudden
chilly fits, and when he felt warmed he would take it off
and hang it about anywhere all over the ship. It would
be seen swinging on belaying-pins, thrown over the
heads of winches, suspended on people's very door-
handles for that matter. Was he not the owner? But
his favorite place was a hook on a wooden awning
stanchion on the bridge, almost against the binnacle.
He had even in the early days more than one tussle on
that point with Captain Whalley, who desired the
bridge to be kept tidy. He had been overawed then.
Of late, though, he had been able to defy his partner
with impunity. Captain Whalley never seemed to
notice anything now. As to the Malays, in their awe
of that scowling man not one of the crew would dream
of laying a hand on the thing, no matter where or what
it swung from.
With an unexpectedness which made Mr. Massy jump
and drop the coat at his feet, there came from the next
berth the crash and thud of a headlong, jingling, clat-
tering fall. The faithful Jack must have dropped to
sleep suddenly as he sat at his revels, and now had
gone over chair and all, breaking, as it seemed by the
sound, every single glass and bottle in the place. After
the terrific smash all was still for a time in there, as
though he had killed himself outright on the spot. Mr.
Massy held his breath. At last a sleepyuneasy groan-
ing sigh was exhaled slowly on the other side of the
bulkhead.
"I hope to goodness he's too drunk to wake up now,"
muttered Mr. Massy.
The sound of a softlyknowing laugh nearly drove
him to despair. He swore violently under his breath.
The fool would keep him awake all night now for cer-
tain. He cursed his luck. He wanted to forget his
maddening troubles in sleep sometimes. He could detect
no movements. Without apparently making the slight-
est attempt to get up, Jack went on sniggering to him-
self where he lay; then began to speak, where he had
left off as it were--
"Massy! I love the dirty rascal. He would like to
see his poor old Jack starve--but just you look where
he has climbed to." . . . He hiccoughed in a superior,
leisurely manner. . . . "Ship-owning it with the best.
A lottery ticket you want. Ha! ha! I will give you
lottery tickets, my boy. Let the old ship sink and the
old chum starve--that's right. He don't go wrong--
Massy don't. Not he. He's a genius--that man is.
That's the way to win your money. Ship and chum
must go."
"The silly fool has taken it to heart," muttered Massy
to himself. And, listening with a softened expression
of face for any slight sign of returning drowsiness, he
was discouraged profoundly by a burst of laughter full
of joyful irony.
"Would like to see her at the bottom of the sea! Oh,
you clever, clever devil! Wish her sunk, eh? I should
think you would, my boy; the damned old thing and
all your troubles with her. Rake in the insurance money
--turn your back on your old chum--all's well--gentle-
man again."
A grim stillness had come over Massy's face. Only
his big black eyes rolled uneasily. The raving fool.
And yet it was all true. Yes. Lottery tickets, too.
All true. What? Beginning again? He wished he
wouldn't. . . .
But it was even so. The imaginativedrunkard on
the other side of the bulkhead shook off the deathlike
stillness that after his last words had fallen on the dark
ship moored to a silent shore.
"Don't you dare to say anything against George
Massy, Esquire. When he's tired of waiting he will do
away with her. Look out! Down she goes--chum and
all. He'll know how to . . ."
The voice hesitated, weary, dreamy, lost, as if dying
away in a vast open space.
". . . Find a trick that will work. He's up to it--
never fear . . ."
He must have been very drunk, for at last the heavy
sleep gripped him with the suddenness of a magic spell,
and the last word lengthened itself into an interminable,
noisy, in-drawn snore. And then even the snoring
stopped, and all was still.
But it seemed as though Mr. Massy had suddenly come
to doubt the efficacy of sleep as against a man's troubles;
or perhaps he had found the relief he needed in the
stillness of a calm contemplation that may contain the
vivid thoughts of wealth, of a stroke of luck, of long
idleness, and may bring before you the imagined form
of every desire; for, turning about and throwing his
arms over the edge of his bunk, he stood there with his
feet on his favorite old coat, looking out through the
round port into the night over the river. Sometimes
a breath of wind would enter and touch his face, a cool
breathcharged with the damp, fresh feel from a vast
body of water. A glimmer here and there was all he
could see of it; and once he might after all suppose he
had dozed off, since there appeared before his vision,
unexpectedly and connected with no dream, a row of
flaming and gigantic figures--three naught seven one
two--making up a number such as you may see on a
lottery ticket. And then all at once the port was no
longer black: it was pearly gray, framing a shore
crowded with houses, thatched roof beyond thatched
roof, walls of mats and bamboo, gables of carved teak
timber. Rows of dwellings raised on a forest of piles
lined the steely band of the river, brimful and still, with
the tide at the turn. This was Batu Beru--and the
day had come.
Mr. Massy shook himself, put on the tweed coat, and,
shivering nervously as if from some great shock, made
a note of the number. A fortunate, rare hint that.
Yes; but to pursue fortune one wanted money--ready
cash.
Then he went out and prepared to descend into the
engine-room. Several small jobs had to be seen to, and
Jack was lying dead drunk on the floor of his cabin,
with the door locked at that. His gorge rose at the
thought of work. Ay! But if you wanted to do noth-
ing you had to get first a good bit of money. A
ship won't save you. He cursed the Sofala. True, all
true. He was tired of waiting for some chance that
would rid him at last of that ship that had turned out
a curse on his life.
XIV
The deep, interminable hoot of the steam-whistle had,
in its grave, vibrating note, something intolerable,
which sent a slight shudder down Mr. Van Wyk's back.
It was the early afternoon; the Sofala was leaving Batu
Beru for Pangu, the next place of call. She swung in
the stream, scantily attended by a few canoes, and, glid-
ing on the broad river, became lost to view from the
Van Wyk bungalow.
Its owner had not gone this time to see her off. Gen-
erally he came down to the wharf, exchanged a few
words with the bridge while she cast off, and waved his
hand to Captain Whalley at the last moment. This day
he did not even go as far as the balustrade of the
veranda. "He couldn't see me if I did," he said to
himself. "I wonder whether he can make out the house
at all." And this thought somehow made him feel more
alone than he had ever felt for all these years. What
was it? six or seven? Seven. A long time.
He sat on the veranda with a closed book on his knee,
and, as it were, looked out upon his solitude, as if the
fact of Captain Whalley's blindness had opened his
eyes to his own. There were many sorts of heartaches
and troubles, and there was no place where they could
not find a man out. And he felt ashamed, as though
he had for six years behaved like a peevish boy.
His thought followed the Sofala on her way. On the
spur of the moment he had acted impulsively, turning
to the thing most pressing. And what else could he
have done? Later on he should see. It seemed neces-
sary that he should come out into the world, for a time
at least. He had money--something could be ar-
ranged; he would grudge no time, no trouble, no loss
of his solitude. It weighed on him now--and Captain
Whalley appeared to him as he had sat shading his
eyes, as if, being deceived in the trust of his faith, he
were beyond all the good and evil that can be wrought
by the hands of men.
Mr. Van Wyk's thoughts followed the Sofala down the
river, winding about through the belt of the coast forest,
between the buttressed shafts of the big trees, through
the mangrove strip, and over the bar. The ship crossed
it easily in broad daylight, piloted, as it happened, by
Mr. Sterne, who took the watch from four to six, and
then went below to hug himself with delight at the pros-
pect of being virtually employed by a rich man--like
Mr. Van Wyk. He could not see how any hitch could
occur now. He did not seem able to get over the feeling
of being "fixed up at last." From six to eight, in the
course of duty, the Serang looked alone after the ship.
She had a clear road before her now till about three in
the morning, when she would close with the Pangu
group. At eight Mr. Sterne came out cheerily to take
charge again till midnight. At ten he was still chir-
ruping and humming to himself on the bridge, and
about that time Mr. Van Wyk's thought abandoned the
Sofala. Mr. Van Wyk had fallen asleep at last.
Massy, blocking the engine-room companion, jerked
himself into his tweed jacket surlily, while the second
waited with a scowl.
"Oh. You came out? You sot! Well, what have
you got to say for yourself?"
He had been in charge of the engines till then. A
somber fury darkened his mind: a hot anger against
the ship, against the facts of life, against the men for
their cheating, against himself too--because of an in-
ward tremor of his heart.
An incomprehensible growl answered him.
"What? Can't you open your mouth now? You yelp
- jacket [´dʒækit]
n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词) - garment [´gɑ:mənt] n.衣服，外衣 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- goodness [´gudnis] n.优良；美德；精华 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- relief [ri´li:f] n.救济；援救；减轻 (初中英语单词)
- contain [kən´tein] v.包含；容纳；抑制 (初中英语单词)
- wealth [welθ] n.财富，财产 (初中英语单词)
- fortunate [´fɔ:tʃənət] a.幸运的，侥幸的 (初中英语单词)
- pursue [pə´sju:] v.追赶；追踪；从事 (初中英语单词)
- descend [di´send] v.下来，下降 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- midnight [´midnait] n.午夜；漆黑 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- pacific [pə´sifik] a.和平的；温和的 (高中英语单词)
- headlong [´hedlɔŋ] ad.&a.轻率地(的) (高中英语单词)
- terrific [tə´rifik] a.可怕的；极大的 (高中英语单词)
- sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
- uneasy [ʌn´i:zi] a.不安的；不自在的 (高中英语单词)
- violently [´vaiələntli] ad.强暴地；猛烈地 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- rascal [´rɑ:skəl] n.流氓 (高中英语单词)
- joyful [´dʒɔifəl] a.高兴的，充满快乐的 (高中英语单词)
- damned [dæmd] a.该死的 ad.非常，极 (高中英语单词)
- stillness [´stilnis] n.不动；无声，寂静 (高中英语单词)
- esquire [i´skwaiə] n.先生 (高中英语单词)
- gigantic [dʒai´gæntik] a.巨大的 (高中英语单词)
- naught [nɔ:t] n.无；零 (高中英语单词)
- bamboo [,bæm´bu:] n.竹 (高中英语单词)
- shudder [´ʃʌdə] n.&vi.震颤；发抖 (高中英语单词)
- solitude [´sɔlitju:d] n.孤独；寂寞；荒凉 (高中英语单词)
- grudge [grʌdʒ] vt.&n.吝啬；怨恨 (高中英语单词)
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 (英语四级单词)
- profoundly [prə´faundli] ad.深深地 (英语四级单词)
- contemplation [,kɔntem´pleiʃən] n.注视；冥想；打算 (英语四级单词)
- glimmer [´glimə] n.&vi.闪光 (英语四级单词)
- nervously [´nə:vəsli] ad.神经质地；胆怯地 (英语四级单词)
- veranda [və´rændə] n.游廊；阳台 (英语四级单词)
- blindness [´blaindnis] n.失明；愚味，文盲 (英语四级单词)
- virtually [´və:tʃuəli] ad.实际上，实质上 (英语四级单词)
- cheerily [´tʃiərili] ad. 高兴地；愉快地 (英语四级单词)
- impunity [im´pju:niti] n.不受惩罚 (英语六级单词)
- lottery [´lɔtəri] n.抽彩，抓阄，彩票 (英语六级单词)
- uneasily [ʌn´i:zili] ad.不安地；局促地 (英语六级单词)
- imaginative [i´mædʒənətiv] a.富于想象(力)的 (英语六级单词)
- drunkard [´drʌŋkəd] n.醉汉；酒鬼 (英语六级单词)
- dreamy [´dri:mi] a.心不在焉的；朦胧的 (英语六级单词)
- interminable [in´tə:minəbəl] a.无终止的；冗长的 (英语六级单词)
- abandoned [ə´bændənd] a.被抛弃的；无约束的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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