章节正文
to think of. His word would be law. He had been out
of work for a long time before he won his prize, and he
remembered how Carlo Mariani (commonly known as
Paunchy Charley), the Maltese hotel-keeper at the
slummy end of Denham Street, had cringed joyfully
before him in the evening, when the news had come.
Poor Charley, though he made his living by ministering
to various abject vices, gave credit for their food to
many a piece of white wreckage. He was naively over-
joyed at the idea of his old bills being paid, and he
reckoned confidently on a spell of festivities in the
cavernous grog-shop downstairs. Massy remembered
the curious, respectful looks of the "trashy" white men
in the place. His heart had swelled within him. Massy
had left Charley's infamous den directly he had realized
the possibilities open to him, and with his nose in the air.
Afterwards the memory of these adulations was a great
sadness.
This was the true power of money,--and no trouble
with it, nor any thinking required either. He thought
with difficulty and felt vividly; to his blunt brain the
problems offered by any ordered scheme of life seemed
in their cruel toughness to have been put in his way
by the obvious malevolence of men. As a shipowner
everyone had conspired to make him a nobody. How
could he have been such a fool as to purchase that ac-
cursed ship. He had been abominably swindled; there
was no end to this swindling; and as the difficulties of his
improvident ambition gathered thicker round him, he
really came to hate everybody he had ever come in con-
tact with. A temper naturally irritable and an amazing
sensitiveness to the claims of his own personality had
ended by making of life for him a sort of inferno--a
place where his lost soul had been given up to the tor-
ment of savage brooding.
But he had never hated anyone so much as that old
man who had turned up one evening to save him from
an utter disaster,--from the conspiracy of the wretched
sailors. He seemed to have fallen on board from the
sky. His footsteps echoed on the empty steamer, and
the strange deep-toned voice on deck repeating inter-
rogatively the words, "Mr. Massy, Mr. Massy there?"
had been startling like a wonder. And coming up from
the depths of the cold engine-room, where he had been
pottering dismally with a candle amongst the enormous
shadows, thrown on all sides by the skeleton limbs of ma-
chinery, Massy had been struck dumb by astonishment
in the presence of that imposing old man with a beard
like a silver plate, towering in the dusk rendered lurid
by the expiring flames of sunset.
"Want to see me on business? What business? I am
doing no business. Can't you see that this ship is laid
up?" Massy had turned at bay before the pursuing
irony of his disaster. Afterwards he could not believe
his ears. What was that old fellow getting at? Things
don't happen that way. It was a dream. He would
presently wake up and find the man vanished like a
shape of mist. The gravity, the dignity, the firm and
courteous tone of that athletic old stranger impressed
Massy. He was almost afraid. But it was no dream.
Five hundred pounds are no dream. At once he became
suspicious. What did it mean? Of course it was an
offer to catch hold of for dear life. But what could
there be behind?
Before they had parted, after appointing a meeting
in a solicitor's office early on the morrow, Massy was
asking himself, What is his motive? He spent the night
in hammering out the clauses of the agreement--a
unique instrument of its sort whose tenor got bruited
abroad somehow and became the talk and wonder of the
port.
Massy's object had been to secure for himself as many
ways as possible of getting rid of his partner without
being called upon at once to pay back his share. Cap-
tain Whalley's efforts were directed to making the money
secure. Was it not Ivy's money--a part of her fortune
whose only other asset was the time-defying body of her
old father? Sure of his forbearance in the strength of
his love for her, he accepted, with stately serenity,
Massy's stupidly cunning paragraphs against his in-
competence, his dishonesty, his drunkenness, for the sake
of other stringent stipulations. At the end of three
years he was at liberty to withdraw from the partner-
ship, taking his money with him. Provision was made
for forming a fund to pay him off. But if he left the
Sofala before the term, from whatever cause (barring
death), Massy was to have a whole year for paying.
"Illness?" the lawyer had suggested: a young man
fresh from Europe and not overburdened with business,
who was rather amused. Massy began to whine unctu-
ously, "How could he be expected? . . ."
"Let that go," Captain Whalley had said with a
superb confidence in his body. "Acts of God," he
added. In the midst of life we are in death, but he
trusted his Maker with a still greater fearlessness--his
Maker who knew his thoughts, his human affections, and
his motives. His Creator knew what use he was making
of his health--how much he wanted it . . . "I trust
my first illness will be my last. I've never been ill that
I can remember," he had remarked. "Let it go."
But at this early stage he had already awakened
Massy's hostility by refusing to make it six hundred
instead of five. "I cannot do that," was all he had said,
simply, but with so much decision that Massy desisted
at once from pressing the point, but had thought to
himself, "Can't! Old curmudgeon. WON'T! He must
have lots of money, but he would like to get hold of a
soft berth and the sixth part of my profits for nothing
if he only could."
And during these years Massy's dislike grew under the
restraint of something resembling fear. The simplicity
of that man appeared dangerous. Of late he had
changed, however, had appeared less formidable and
with a lessened vigor of life, as though he had received
a secret wound. But still he remained incomprehensible
in his simplicity, fearlessness, and rectitude. And when
Massy learned that he meant to leave him at the end of
the time, to leave him confronted with the problem of
boilers, his dislike blazed up secretly into hate.
It had made him so clear-eyed that for a long time now
Mr. Sterne could have told him nothing he did not
know. He had much ado in trying to terrorize that
mean sneak into silence; he wanted to deal alone with
the situation; and--incredible as it might have ap-
peared to Mr. Sterne--he had not yet given up the de-
sire and the hope of inducing that hated old man to
stay. Why! there was nothing else to do, unless he were
to abandon his chances of fortune. But now, suddenly,
since the crossing of the bar at Batu Beru things
seemed to be coming rapidly to a point. It disquieted
him so much that the study of the winning numbers
failed to soothe his agitation: and the twilight in the
cabin deepened, very somber.
He put the list away, muttering once more, "Oh, no,
my boy, you don't. Not if I know it." He did not
mean the blinking, eavesdropping humbug to force his
action. He took his head again into his hands; his im-
mobility confined in the darkness of this shut-up little
place seemed to make him a thing apart infinitely re-
moved from the stir and the sounds of the deck.
He heard them: the passengers were beginning to
jabber excitedly; somebody dragged a heavy box
past his door. He heard Captain Whalley's voice
above--
"Stations, Mr. Sterne." And the answer from some-
where on deck forward--
"Ay, ay, sir."
"We shall moor head up stream this time; the ebb
has made."
"Head up stream, sir."
"You will see to it, Mr. Sterne."
The answer was covered by the autocratic clang on the
engine-room gong. The propeller went on beating
slowly: one, two, three; one, two, three--with pauses as
if hesitating on the turn. The gong clanged time after
time, and the water churned this way and that by the
blades was making a great noisy commotion alongside.
Mr. Massy did not move. A shore-light on the other
bank, a quarter of a mile across the river, drifted, no
bigger than a tiny star, passing slowly athwart the cir-
cle of the port. Voices from Mr. Van Wyk's jetty an-
swered the hails from the ship; ropes were thrown and
missed and thrown again; the swaying flame of a torch
carried in a large sampan coming to fetch away in state
the Rajah from down the coast cast a sudden ruddy
glare into his cabin, over his very person. Mr. Massy
did not move. After a few last ponderous turns the
engines stopped, and the prolonged clanging of the
gong signified that the captain had done with them. A
great number of boats and canoes of all sizes boarded
the off-side of the Sofala. Then after a time the tumult
of splashing, of cries, of shuffling feet, of packages
dropped with a thump, the noise of the native passen-
gers going away, subsided slowly. On the shore, a
voice, cultivated, slightlyauthoritative, spoke very
close alongside--
"Brought any mail for me this time?"
"Yes, Mr. Van Wyk." This was from Sterne, an-
swering over the rail in a tone of respectful cordiality.
"Shall I bring it up to you?"
But the voice asked again--
"Where's the captain?"
"Still on the bridge, I believe. He hasn't left his
chair. Shall I . . ."
The voice interrupted negligently.
"I will come on board."
"Mr. Van Wyk," Sterne suddenly broke out with an
eager effort, "will you do me the favor . . ."
The mate walked away quickly towards the gangway.
A silence fell. Mr. Massy in the dark did not move.
He did not move even when he heard slow shuffling
footsteps pass his cabin lazily. He contented himself
to bellow out through the closed door--
"You--Jack!"
The footsteps came back without haste; the door
handle rattled, and the second engineer appeared in the
opening, shadowy in the sheen of the skylight at his
back, with his face apparently as black as the rest of
his figure.
"We have been very long coming up this time," Mr.
Massy growled, without changing his attitude.
of work for a long time before he won his prize, and he
remembered how Carlo Mariani (commonly known as
Paunchy Charley), the Maltese hotel-keeper at the
slummy end of Denham Street, had cringed joyfully
before him in the evening, when the news had come.
Poor Charley, though he made his living by ministering
to various abject vices, gave credit for their food to
many a piece of white wreckage. He was naively over-
joyed at the idea of his old bills being paid, and he
reckoned confidently on a spell of festivities in the
cavernous grog-shop downstairs. Massy remembered
the curious, respectful looks of the "trashy" white men
in the place. His heart had swelled within him. Massy
had left Charley's infamous den directly he had realized
the possibilities open to him, and with his nose in the air.
Afterwards the memory of these adulations was a great
sadness.
This was the true power of money,--and no trouble
with it, nor any thinking required either. He thought
with difficulty and felt vividly; to his blunt brain the
problems offered by any ordered scheme of life seemed
in their cruel toughness to have been put in his way
by the obvious malevolence of men. As a shipowner
everyone had conspired to make him a nobody. How
could he have been such a fool as to purchase that ac-
cursed ship. He had been abominably swindled; there
was no end to this swindling; and as the difficulties of his
improvident ambition gathered thicker round him, he
really came to hate everybody he had ever come in con-
tact with. A temper naturally irritable and an amazing
sensitiveness to the claims of his own personality had
ended by making of life for him a sort of inferno--a
place where his lost soul had been given up to the tor-
ment of savage brooding.
But he had never hated anyone so much as that old
man who had turned up one evening to save him from
an utter disaster,--from the conspiracy of the wretched
sailors. He seemed to have fallen on board from the
sky. His footsteps echoed on the empty steamer, and
the strange deep-toned voice on deck repeating inter-
rogatively the words, "Mr. Massy, Mr. Massy there?"
had been startling like a wonder. And coming up from
the depths of the cold engine-room, where he had been
pottering dismally with a candle amongst the enormous
shadows, thrown on all sides by the skeleton limbs of ma-
chinery, Massy had been struck dumb by astonishment
in the presence of that imposing old man with a beard
like a silver plate, towering in the dusk rendered lurid
by the expiring flames of sunset.
"Want to see me on business? What business? I am
doing no business. Can't you see that this ship is laid
up?" Massy had turned at bay before the pursuing
irony of his disaster. Afterwards he could not believe
his ears. What was that old fellow getting at? Things
don't happen that way. It was a dream. He would
presently wake up and find the man vanished like a
shape of mist. The gravity, the dignity, the firm and
courteous tone of that athletic old stranger impressed
Massy. He was almost afraid. But it was no dream.
Five hundred pounds are no dream. At once he became
suspicious. What did it mean? Of course it was an
offer to catch hold of for dear life. But what could
there be behind?
Before they had parted, after appointing a meeting
in a solicitor's office early on the morrow, Massy was
asking himself, What is his motive? He spent the night
in hammering out the clauses of the agreement--a
unique instrument of its sort whose tenor got bruited
abroad somehow and became the talk and wonder of the
port.
Massy's object had been to secure for himself as many
ways as possible of getting rid of his partner without
being called upon at once to pay back his share. Cap-
tain Whalley's efforts were directed to making the money
secure. Was it not Ivy's money--a part of her fortune
whose only other asset was the time-defying body of her
old father? Sure of his forbearance in the strength of
his love for her, he accepted, with stately serenity,
Massy's stupidly cunning paragraphs against his in-
competence, his dishonesty, his drunkenness, for the sake
of other stringent stipulations. At the end of three
years he was at liberty to withdraw from the partner-
ship, taking his money with him. Provision was made
for forming a fund to pay him off. But if he left the
Sofala before the term, from whatever cause (barring
death), Massy was to have a whole year for paying.
"Illness?" the lawyer had suggested: a young man
fresh from Europe and not overburdened with business,
who was rather amused. Massy began to whine unctu-
ously, "How could he be expected? . . ."
"Let that go," Captain Whalley had said with a
superb confidence in his body. "Acts of God," he
added. In the midst of life we are in death, but he
trusted his Maker with a still greater fearlessness--his
Maker who knew his thoughts, his human affections, and
his motives. His Creator knew what use he was making
of his health--how much he wanted it . . . "I trust
my first illness will be my last. I've never been ill that
I can remember," he had remarked. "Let it go."
But at this early stage he had already awakened
Massy's hostility by refusing to make it six hundred
instead of five. "I cannot do that," was all he had said,
simply, but with so much decision that Massy desisted
at once from pressing the point, but had thought to
himself, "Can't! Old curmudgeon. WON'T! He must
have lots of money, but he would like to get hold of a
soft berth and the sixth part of my profits for nothing
if he only could."
And during these years Massy's dislike grew under the
restraint of something resembling fear. The simplicity
of that man appeared dangerous. Of late he had
changed, however, had appeared less formidable and
with a lessened vigor of life, as though he had received
a secret wound. But still he remained incomprehensible
in his simplicity, fearlessness, and rectitude. And when
Massy learned that he meant to leave him at the end of
the time, to leave him confronted with the problem of
boilers, his dislike blazed up secretly into hate.
It had made him so clear-eyed that for a long time now
Mr. Sterne could have told him nothing he did not
know. He had much ado in trying to terrorize that
mean sneak into silence; he wanted to deal alone with
the situation; and--incredible as it might have ap-
peared to Mr. Sterne--he had not yet given up the de-
sire and the hope of inducing that hated old man to
stay. Why! there was nothing else to do, unless he were
to abandon his chances of fortune. But now, suddenly,
since the crossing of the bar at Batu Beru things
seemed to be coming rapidly to a point. It disquieted
him so much that the study of the winning numbers
failed to soothe his agitation: and the twilight in the
cabin deepened, very somber.
He put the list away, muttering once more, "Oh, no,
my boy, you don't. Not if I know it." He did not
mean the blinking, eavesdropping humbug to force his
action. He took his head again into his hands; his im-
mobility confined in the darkness of this shut-up little
place seemed to make him a thing apart infinitely re-
moved from the stir and the sounds of the deck.
He heard them: the passengers were beginning to
jabber excitedly; somebody dragged a heavy box
past his door. He heard Captain Whalley's voice
above--
"Stations, Mr. Sterne." And the answer from some-
where on deck forward--
"Ay, ay, sir."
"We shall moor head up stream this time; the ebb
has made."
"Head up stream, sir."
"You will see to it, Mr. Sterne."
The answer was covered by the autocratic clang on the
engine-room gong. The propeller went on beating
slowly: one, two, three; one, two, three--with pauses as
if hesitating on the turn. The gong clanged time after
time, and the water churned this way and that by the
blades was making a great noisy commotion alongside.
Mr. Massy did not move. A shore-light on the other
bank, a quarter of a mile across the river, drifted, no
bigger than a tiny star, passing slowly athwart the cir-
cle of the port. Voices from Mr. Van Wyk's jetty an-
swered the hails from the ship; ropes were thrown and
missed and thrown again; the swaying flame of a torch
carried in a large sampan coming to fetch away in state
the Rajah from down the coast cast a sudden ruddy
glare into his cabin, over his very person. Mr. Massy
did not move. After a few last ponderous turns the
engines stopped, and the prolonged clanging of the
gong signified that the captain had done with them. A
great number of boats and canoes of all sizes boarded
the off-side of the Sofala. Then after a time the tumult
of splashing, of cries, of shuffling feet, of packages
dropped with a thump, the noise of the native passen-
gers going away, subsided slowly. On the shore, a
voice, cultivated, slightlyauthoritative, spoke very
close alongside--
"Brought any mail for me this time?"
"Yes, Mr. Van Wyk." This was from Sterne, an-
swering over the rail in a tone of respectful cordiality.
"Shall I bring it up to you?"
But the voice asked again--
"Where's the captain?"
"Still on the bridge, I believe. He hasn't left his
chair. Shall I . . ."
The voice interrupted negligently.
"I will come on board."
"Mr. Van Wyk," Sterne suddenly broke out with an
eager effort, "will you do me the favor . . ."
The mate walked away quickly towards the gangway.
A silence fell. Mr. Massy in the dark did not move.
He did not move even when he heard slow shuffling
footsteps pass his cabin lazily. He contented himself
to bellow out through the closed door--
"You--Jack!"
The footsteps came back without haste; the door
handle rattled, and the second engineer appeared in the
opening, shadowy in the sheen of the skylight at his
back, with his face apparently as black as the rest of
his figure.
"We have been very long coming up this time," Mr.
Massy growled, without changing his attitude.
- downstairs [,daun´steəz]
ad.在楼下 a.楼下的 (初中英语单词) - scheme [ski:m] n.计划；阴谋，诡计 (初中英语单词)
- obvious [´ɔbviəs] a.明显的；显而易见的 (初中英语单词)
- ambition [æm´biʃən] n.雄心，野心；企图 (初中英语单词)
- temper [´tempə] n.韧度 v.锻炼；调和 (初中英语单词)
- personality [,pə:sə´næliti] n.人；个性；人品；人物 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- steamer [´sti:mə] n.汽船；轮船；蒸笼 (初中英语单词)
- disaster [di´zɑ:stə] n.灾难，不幸 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- motive [´məutiv] n.动机；主题 a.运动的 (初中英语单词)
- instrument [´instrumənt] n.仪器；手段；乐器 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- cunning [´kʌniŋ] a.&n.狡猾(诡诈)的 (初中英语单词)
- withdraw [wið´drɔ:] v.收回；撤销；撤退 (初中英语单词)
- provision [prə´viʒən] n.供应；规定；条款 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- dislike [dis´laik] vt.&n.不喜爱，厌恶 (初中英语单词)
- abandon [ə´bændən] vt.抛弃，放弃，离弃 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- excitedly [ik´saitidli] ad.兴奋地，激动地 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- conspiracy [kən´spirəsi] n.密谋；协同作用 (高中英语单词)
- startling [´stɑ:tliŋ] a.惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- amongst [ə´mʌŋst] prep.其中之一 =among (高中英语单词)
- skeleton [´skelitən] n.骨骼；骷髅 (高中英语单词)
- gravity [´græviti] n.严肃；严重；重力 (高中英语单词)
- athletic [æθ´letik] a.运动的；强壮的 (高中英语单词)
- stately [´steitli] a.庄严的，雄伟的 (高中英语单词)
- hostility [hɔ´stiliti] n.敌意 战斗(争) (高中英语单词)
- formidable [´fɔ:midəbəl] a.可怕的；艰难的 (高中英语单词)
- simplicity [sim´plisiti] n.简单；朴素 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- secretly [´si:kritli] ad.秘密地；隐蔽地 (高中英语单词)
- soothe [su:ð] vt.安慰；镇定；减轻 (高中英语单词)
- agitation [,ædʒi´teiʃən] n.鼓动；摇动；焦虑 (高中英语单词)
- contented [kən´tentid] a.满足的；心满意足的 (高中英语单词)
- bellow [´beləu] v.吼叫；轰鸣 (高中英语单词)
- shadowy [´ʃædəui] a.有阴影的；模糊的 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- towering [´tauəriŋ] a.高耸的；强烈的 (英语四级单词)
- morrow [´mɔrəu] n.翌日 (英语四级单词)
- creator [kri:´eitə] n.创造者；设立者 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- winning [´winiŋ] n.&a.胜利(的) (英语四级单词)
- infinitely [´infinitli] ad.无限地；无穷地 (英语四级单词)
- commotion [kə´məuʃən] n.混乱；骚动 (英语四级单词)
- authoritative [ɔ:´θɔrətətiv] a.可信的；命令的 (英语四级单词)
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 (英语四级单词)
- abject [´æbdʒekt] a.卑鄙的；可怜的 (英语六级单词)
- confidently [´kɔnfidəntli] ad.有信心地；自信地 (英语六级单词)
- respectful [ri´spektfəl] a.恭敬的；尊敬人的 (英语六级单词)
- infamous [´infəməs] a.声名狼藉的 (英语六级单词)
- vividly [´vividli] ad.活泼地；生动地 (英语六级单词)
- irritable [´iritəbəl] a.急躁的；过敏的 (英语六级单词)
- imposing [im´pəuziŋ] a.壮丽的，堂皇的 (英语六级单词)
- forbearance [fɔ:´beərəns] n.忍耐，克制 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- ponderous [´pɔndərəs] a.沉重的；冗长的 (英语六级单词)
- cultivated [´kʌltiveitid] a.在耕作的；有教养的 (英语六级单词)
- lazily [´leizili] ad.懒惰地，慢吞吞地 (英语六级单词)
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