章节正文
out your infernal rot loud enough when you are drunk.
What do you mean by abusing people in that way?--
you old useless boozer, you!"
"Can't help it. Don't remember anything about it.
You shouldn't listen."
"You dare to tell me! What do you mean by going
on a drunk like this!"
"Don't ask me. Sick of the dam' boilers--you would
be. Sick of life."
"I wish you were dead, then. You've made me sick
of you. Don't you remember the uproar you made last
night? You miserable old soaker!"
"No; I don't. Don't want to. Drink is drink."
"I wonder what prevents me from kicking you out.
What do you want here?"
"Relieve you. You've been long enough down there,
George."
"Don't you George me--you tippling old rascal, you!
If I were to die to-morrow you would starve. Remem-
ber that. Say Mr. Massy."
"Mr. Massy," repeated the other stolidly.
Disheveled, with dull blood-shot eyes, a snuffy, grimy
shirt, greasy trowsers, naked feet thrust into ragged
slippers, he bolted in head down directly Massy had
made way for him.
The chief engineer looked around. The deck was
empty as far as the taffrail. All the native passengers
had left in Batu Beru this time, and no others had
joined. The dial of the patent log tinkled periodically
in the dark at the end of the ship. It was a dead calm,
and, under the clouded sky, through the still air that
seemed to cling warm, with a seaweed smell, to her slim
hull, on a sea of somber gray and unwrinkled, the ship
moved on an even keel, as if floating detached in empty
space. But Mr. Massy slapped his forehead, tottered
a little, caught hold of a belaying-pin at the foot of
the mast.
"I shall go mad," he muttered, walking across the deck
unsteadily. A shovel was scraping loose coal down be-
low--a fire-door clanged. Sterne on the bridge began
whistling a new tune.
Captain Whalley, sitting on the couch, awake and fully
dressed, heard the door of his cabin open. He did not
move in the least, waiting to recognize the voice, with
an appallingstrain of prudence.
A bulkhead lamp blazed on the white paint, the crim-
son plush, the brown varnish of mahogany tops. The
white wood packing-case under the bed-place had re-
mained unopened for three years now, as though Cap-
tain Whalley had felt that, after the Fair Maid was
gone, there could be no abiding-place on earth for his
affections. His hands rested on his knees; his hand-
some head with big eyebrows presented a rigid profile
to the doorway. The expected voice spoke out at
last.
"Once more, then. What am I to call you?"
Ha! Massy. Again. The weariness of it crushed his
heart--and the pain of shame was almost more than he
could bear without crying out.
"Well. Is it to be 'partner' still?"
"You don't know what you ask."
"I know what I want . . ."
Massy stepped in and closed the door.
". . . And I am going to have a try for it with you
once more."
His whine was half persuasive, half menacing.
"For it's no manner of use to tell me that you are
poor. You don't spend anything on yourself, that's
true enough; but there's another name for that. You
think you are going to have what you want out of me
for three years, and then cast me off without hearing
what I think of you. You think I would have submitted
to your airs if I had known you had only a beggarly
five hundred pounds in the world. You ought to have
told me."
"Perhaps," said Captain Whalley, bowing his head.
"And yet it has saved you." . . . Massy laughed
scornfully. . . . "I have told you often enough
since."
"And I don't believe you now. When I think how
I let you lord it over my ship! Do you remember how
you used to bullyrag me about my coat and YOUR bridge?
It was in his way. HIS bridge! 'And I won't be a
party to this--and I couldn't think of doing that.'
Honest man! And now it all comes out. 'I am poor,
and I can't. I have only this five hundred in the world.'"
He contemplated the immobility of Captain Whalley,
that seemed to present an inconquerable obstacle in
his path. His face took a mournful cast.
"You are a hard man."
"Enough," said Captain Whalley, turning upon him.
"You shall get nothing from me, because I have noth-
ing of mine to give away now."
"Tell that to the marines!"
Mr. Massy, going out, looked back once; then the door
closed, and Captain Whalley, alone, sat as still as before.
He had nothing of his own--even his past of honor,
of truth, of just pride, was gone. All his spotless life
had fallen into the abyss. He had said his last good-by
to it. But what belonged to HER, that he meant to save.
Only a little money. He would take it to her in his own
hands--this last gift of a man that had lasted too long.
And an immense and fierceimpulse, the very passion of
paternity, flamed up with all the unquenched vigor of
his worthless life in a desire to see her face.
Just across the deck Massy had gone straight to his
cabin, struck a light, and hunted up the note of the
dreamed number whose figures had flamed up also with
the fierceness of another passion. He must contrive
somehow not to miss a drawing. That number meant
something. But what expedient could he contrive to
keep himself going?
"Wretched miser!" he mumbled.
If Mr. Sterne could at no time have told him anything
new about his partner, he could have told Mr. Sterne
that another use could be made of a man's affliction than
just to kick him out, and thus defer the term of a diffi-
cult payment for a year. To keep the secret of the
affliction and induce him to stay was a better move. If
without means, he would be anxious to remain; and that
settled the question of refunding him his share. He did
not know exactly how much Captain Whalley was dis-
abled; but if it so happened that he put the ship ashore
somewhere for good and all, it was not the owner's fault
--was it? He was not obliged to know that there was
anything wrong. But probably nobody would raise
such a point, and the ship was fully insured. He had
had enough self-restraint to pay up the premiums. But
this was not all. He could not believe Captain Whalley
to be so confoundedly destitute as not to have some more
money put away somewhere. If he, Massy, could get
hold of it, that would pay for the boilers, and every-
thing went on as before. And if she got lost in the
end, so much the better. He hated her: he loathed the
troubles that took his mind off the chances of fortune.
He wished her at the bottom of the sea, and the in-
surance money in his pocket. And as, baffled, he left
Captain Whalley's cabin, he enveloped in the same
hatred the ship with the worn-out boilers and the man
with the dimmed eyes.
And our conduct after all is so much a matter of outside
suggestion, that had it not been for his Jack's drunken
gabble he would have there and then had it out with this
miserable man, who would neither help, nor stay, nor
yet lose the ship. The old fraud! He longed to kick
him out. But he restrained himself. Time enough for
that--when he liked. There was a fearful new thought
put into his head. Wasn't he up to it after all? How
that beast Jack had raved! "Find a safe trick to get
rid of her." Well, Jack was not so far wrong. A very
clever trick had occurred to him. Aye! But what of
the risk?
A feeling of pride--the pride of superiority to com-
mon prejudices--crept into his breast, made his heart
beat fast, his mouth turn dry. Not everybody would
dare; but he was Massy, and he was up to it!
Six bells were struck on deck. Eleven! He drank a
glass of water, and sat down for ten minutes or so to
calm himself. Then he got out of his chest a small
bull's-eye lantern of his own and lit it.
Almost opposite his berth, across the narrow passage
under the bridge, there was, in the iron deck-structure
covering the stokehold fiddle and the boiler-space, a
storeroom with iron sides, iron roof, iron-plated floor,
too, on account of the heat below. All sorts of rubbish
was shot there: it had a mound of scrap-iron in a corner;
rows of empty oil-cans; sacks of cotton-waste, with a
heap of charcoal, a deck-forge, fragments of an old hen-
coop, winch-covers all in rags, remnants of lamps, and
a brown felt hat, discarded by a man dead now (of a
fever on the Brazil coast), who had been once mate of
the Sofala, had remained for years jammed forcibly be-
hind a length of burst copper pipe, flung at some time
or other out of the engine-room. A complete and im-
perious blackness pervaded that Capharnaum of for-
gotten things. A small shaft of light from Mr. Massy's
bull's-eye fell slanting right through it.
His coat was unbuttoned; he shot the bolt of the door
(there was no other opening), and, squatting before the
scrap-heap, began to pack his pockets with pieces of
iron. He packed them carefully, as if the rusty nuts,
the broken bolts, the links of cargo chain, had been so
much gold he had that one chance to carry away. He
packed his side-pockets till they bulged, the breast
pocket, the pockets inside. He turned over the pieces.
Some he rejected. A small mist of powdered rust began
to rise about his busy hands. Mr. Massy knew some-
thing of the scientific basis of his clever trick. If you
want to deflect the magneticneedle of a ship's compass,
soft iron is the best; likewise many small pieces in the
pockets of a jacket would have more effect than a few
large ones, because in that way you obtain a greater
amount of surface for weight in your iron, and it's sur-
face that tells.
He slipped out swiftly--two strides sufficed--and in
his cabin he perceived that his hands were all red--red
with rust. It disconcerted him, as though he had found
them covered with blood: he looked himself over hastily.
Why, his trowsers too! He had been rubbing his rusty
palms on his legs.
He tore off the waistband button in his haste, brushed
What do you mean by abusing people in that way?--
you old useless boozer, you!"
"Can't help it. Don't remember anything about it.
You shouldn't listen."
"You dare to tell me! What do you mean by going
on a drunk like this!"
"Don't ask me. Sick of the dam' boilers--you would
be. Sick of life."
"I wish you were dead, then. You've made me sick
of you. Don't you remember the uproar you made last
night? You miserable old soaker!"
"No; I don't. Don't want to. Drink is drink."
"I wonder what prevents me from kicking you out.
What do you want here?"
"Relieve you. You've been long enough down there,
George."
"Don't you George me--you tippling old rascal, you!
If I were to die to-morrow you would starve. Remem-
ber that. Say Mr. Massy."
"Mr. Massy," repeated the other stolidly.
Disheveled, with dull blood-shot eyes, a snuffy, grimy
shirt, greasy trowsers, naked feet thrust into ragged
slippers, he bolted in head down directly Massy had
made way for him.
The chief engineer looked around. The deck was
empty as far as the taffrail. All the native passengers
had left in Batu Beru this time, and no others had
joined. The dial of the patent log tinkled periodically
in the dark at the end of the ship. It was a dead calm,
and, under the clouded sky, through the still air that
seemed to cling warm, with a seaweed smell, to her slim
hull, on a sea of somber gray and unwrinkled, the ship
moved on an even keel, as if floating detached in empty
space. But Mr. Massy slapped his forehead, tottered
a little, caught hold of a belaying-pin at the foot of
the mast.
"I shall go mad," he muttered, walking across the deck
unsteadily. A shovel was scraping loose coal down be-
low--a fire-door clanged. Sterne on the bridge began
whistling a new tune.
Captain Whalley, sitting on the couch, awake and fully
dressed, heard the door of his cabin open. He did not
move in the least, waiting to recognize the voice, with
an appallingstrain of prudence.
A bulkhead lamp blazed on the white paint, the crim-
son plush, the brown varnish of mahogany tops. The
white wood packing-case under the bed-place had re-
mained unopened for three years now, as though Cap-
tain Whalley had felt that, after the Fair Maid was
gone, there could be no abiding-place on earth for his
affections. His hands rested on his knees; his hand-
some head with big eyebrows presented a rigid profile
to the doorway. The expected voice spoke out at
last.
"Once more, then. What am I to call you?"
Ha! Massy. Again. The weariness of it crushed his
heart--and the pain of shame was almost more than he
could bear without crying out.
"Well. Is it to be 'partner' still?"
"You don't know what you ask."
"I know what I want . . ."
Massy stepped in and closed the door.
". . . And I am going to have a try for it with you
once more."
His whine was half persuasive, half menacing.
"For it's no manner of use to tell me that you are
poor. You don't spend anything on yourself, that's
true enough; but there's another name for that. You
think you are going to have what you want out of me
for three years, and then cast me off without hearing
what I think of you. You think I would have submitted
to your airs if I had known you had only a beggarly
five hundred pounds in the world. You ought to have
told me."
"Perhaps," said Captain Whalley, bowing his head.
"And yet it has saved you." . . . Massy laughed
scornfully. . . . "I have told you often enough
since."
"And I don't believe you now. When I think how
I let you lord it over my ship! Do you remember how
you used to bullyrag me about my coat and YOUR bridge?
It was in his way. HIS bridge! 'And I won't be a
party to this--and I couldn't think of doing that.'
Honest man! And now it all comes out. 'I am poor,
and I can't. I have only this five hundred in the world.'"
He contemplated the immobility of Captain Whalley,
that seemed to present an inconquerable obstacle in
his path. His face took a mournful cast.
"You are a hard man."
"Enough," said Captain Whalley, turning upon him.
"You shall get nothing from me, because I have noth-
ing of mine to give away now."
"Tell that to the marines!"
Mr. Massy, going out, looked back once; then the door
closed, and Captain Whalley, alone, sat as still as before.
He had nothing of his own--even his past of honor,
of truth, of just pride, was gone. All his spotless life
had fallen into the abyss. He had said his last good-by
to it. But what belonged to HER, that he meant to save.
Only a little money. He would take it to her in his own
hands--this last gift of a man that had lasted too long.
And an immense and fierceimpulse, the very passion of
paternity, flamed up with all the unquenched vigor of
his worthless life in a desire to see her face.
Just across the deck Massy had gone straight to his
cabin, struck a light, and hunted up the note of the
dreamed number whose figures had flamed up also with
the fierceness of another passion. He must contrive
somehow not to miss a drawing. That number meant
something. But what expedient could he contrive to
keep himself going?
"Wretched miser!" he mumbled.
If Mr. Sterne could at no time have told him anything
new about his partner, he could have told Mr. Sterne
that another use could be made of a man's affliction than
just to kick him out, and thus defer the term of a diffi-
cult payment for a year. To keep the secret of the
affliction and induce him to stay was a better move. If
without means, he would be anxious to remain; and that
settled the question of refunding him his share. He did
not know exactly how much Captain Whalley was dis-
abled; but if it so happened that he put the ship ashore
somewhere for good and all, it was not the owner's fault
--was it? He was not obliged to know that there was
anything wrong. But probably nobody would raise
such a point, and the ship was fully insured. He had
had enough self-restraint to pay up the premiums. But
this was not all. He could not believe Captain Whalley
to be so confoundedly destitute as not to have some more
money put away somewhere. If he, Massy, could get
hold of it, that would pay for the boilers, and every-
thing went on as before. And if she got lost in the
end, so much the better. He hated her: he loathed the
troubles that took his mind off the chances of fortune.
He wished her at the bottom of the sea, and the in-
surance money in his pocket. And as, baffled, he left
Captain Whalley's cabin, he enveloped in the same
hatred the ship with the worn-out boilers and the man
with the dimmed eyes.
And our conduct after all is so much a matter of outside
suggestion, that had it not been for his Jack's drunken
gabble he would have there and then had it out with this
miserable man, who would neither help, nor stay, nor
yet lose the ship. The old fraud! He longed to kick
him out. But he restrained himself. Time enough for
that--when he liked. There was a fearful new thought
put into his head. Wasn't he up to it after all? How
that beast Jack had raved! "Find a safe trick to get
rid of her." Well, Jack was not so far wrong. A very
clever trick had occurred to him. Aye! But what of
the risk?
A feeling of pride--the pride of superiority to com-
mon prejudices--crept into his breast, made his heart
beat fast, his mouth turn dry. Not everybody would
dare; but he was Massy, and he was up to it!
Six bells were struck on deck. Eleven! He drank a
glass of water, and sat down for ten minutes or so to
calm himself. Then he got out of his chest a small
bull's-eye lantern of his own and lit it.
Almost opposite his berth, across the narrow passage
under the bridge, there was, in the iron deck-structure
covering the stokehold fiddle and the boiler-space, a
storeroom with iron sides, iron roof, iron-plated floor,
too, on account of the heat below. All sorts of rubbish
was shot there: it had a mound of scrap-iron in a corner;
rows of empty oil-cans; sacks of cotton-waste, with a
heap of charcoal, a deck-forge, fragments of an old hen-
coop, winch-covers all in rags, remnants of lamps, and
a brown felt hat, discarded by a man dead now (of a
fever on the Brazil coast), who had been once mate of
the Sofala, had remained for years jammed forcibly be-
hind a length of burst copper pipe, flung at some time
or other out of the engine-room. A complete and im-
perious blackness pervaded that Capharnaum of for-
gotten things. A small shaft of light from Mr. Massy's
bull's-eye fell slanting right through it.
His coat was unbuttoned; he shot the bolt of the door
(there was no other opening), and, squatting before the
scrap-heap, began to pack his pockets with pieces of
iron. He packed them carefully, as if the rusty nuts,
the broken bolts, the links of cargo chain, had been so
much gold he had that one chance to carry away. He
packed his side-pockets till they bulged, the breast
pocket, the pockets inside. He turned over the pieces.
Some he rejected. A small mist of powdered rust began
to rise about his busy hands. Mr. Massy knew some-
thing of the scientific basis of his clever trick. If you
want to deflect the magneticneedle of a ship's compass,
soft iron is the best; likewise many small pieces in the
pockets of a jacket would have more effect than a few
large ones, because in that way you obtain a greater
amount of surface for weight in your iron, and it's sur-
face that tells.
He slipped out swiftly--two strides sufficed--and in
his cabin he perceived that his hands were all red--red
with rust. It disconcerted him, as though he had found
them covered with blood: he looked himself over hastily.
Why, his trowsers too! He had been rubbing his rusty
palms on his legs.
He tore off the waistband button in his haste, brushed
- useless [´ju:sləs]
a.无用的，无价值的 (初中英语单词) - miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- starve [stɑ:v] v.(使)饥饿 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- patent [´peitənt, ´pæ-] a.专利的 n.专利品 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- immense [i´mens] a.广大的，无限的 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- impulse [´impʌls] n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词)
- passion [´pæʃən] n.激情；激怒；恋爱 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- payment [´peimənt] n.支付；报酬；报偿 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- fearful [´fiəfəl] a.可怕的；担心的 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- copper [´kɔpə] n.铜 a.铜制的 (初中英语单词)
- scientific [,saiən´tifik] a.科学(上)的 (初中英语单词)
- needle [´ni:dl] n.针；指针 v.用针缝 (初中英语单词)
- likewise [´laikwaiz] ad.同样地；也，又 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- obtain [əb´tein] v.获得；买到；得到承认 (初中英语单词)
- button [´bʌtn] n.钮扣 vt.扣上(扣子) (初中英语单词)
- rascal [´rɑ:skəl] n.流氓 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- shovel [´ʃʌvəl] n.铲子；铁锹 (高中英语单词)
- strain [strein] vt.拉紧 vi.拖 n.张力 (高中英语单词)
- obstacle [´ɔbstəkl] n.障碍(物)；妨碍 (高中英语单词)
- worthless [´wə:θləs] a.无价值的 (高中英语单词)
- contrive [kən´traiv] v.发明；设计；图谋 (高中英语单词)
- lantern [´læntən] n.灯笼；提灯 (高中英语单词)
- charcoal [´tʃɑ:kəul] n.木炭；炭笔 (高中英语单词)
- brazil [brə´zil] n.巴西 (高中英语单词)
- uproar [´ʌprɔ:] n.喧嚣；骚动；轰鸣，轰动 (英语四级单词)
- somber [´sɔmbə] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (英语四级单词)
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 (英语四级单词)
- appalling [ə´pɔ:liŋ] a.令人震惊的 (英语四级单词)
- mahogany [mə´hɔgəni] n.红木；桃花心木 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- mournful [´mɔ:nful] a.令人沮丧的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- expedient [ik´spi:diənt] a.合适的 n.权宜之计 (英语四级单词)
- superiority [su:piəri´ɔriti, sju:-] n.优越，卓越 (英语四级单词)
- fiddle [´fidl] n.小提琴 v.拉提琴 (英语四级单词)
- blackness [´blæknis] n.黑色；阴险 (英语四级单词)
- magnetic [mæg´netik] a.磁(性)的 (英语四级单词)
- infernal [in´fə:nəl] a.地狱的，恶魔似的 (英语六级单词)
- greasy [´gri:si] a.油腻的；润滑的 (英语六级单词)
- seaweed [´si:wi:d] n.海草，海藻 (英语六级单词)
- varnish [´vɑ:niʃ] n.清漆 vt.上清漆；粉饰 (英语六级单词)
- persuasive [pə´sweisiv] a.有说服力的 n.动机 (英语六级单词)
- fierceness [´fiəsnis] n.凶恶，残忍 (英语六级单词)
- affliction [ə´flikʃən] n.痛苦，苦恼；折磨 (英语六级单词)
- destitute [´destitju:t] a.贫穷的；缺乏...的 (英语六级单词)
- forcibly [´fɔ:səbli] ad.强行地，强烈地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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