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Some Reminiscences-Part13_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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belt round the pony's body, the kalashes sprang off



simultaneously in all directions, rolling over each other, and

the worthy serang, making a dash behind the winch, turned the



steam on.

"Steady!" I yelled, in great apprehension of seeing the animal



snatched up to the very head of the derrick.

On the wharf Almayer shuffled his straw slippers uneasily. The



rattle of the winch stopped, and in a tense, impressive silence

that pony began to swing across the deck.



How limp he was! Directly he felt himself in the air he relaxed

every muscle in a most wonderful manner. His four hoofs knocked



together in a bunch, his head hung down, and his tail remained

pendent in a nerveless and absolute immobility. He reminded me



vividly of the pathetic little sheep which hangs on the collar of

the Order of the Golden Fleece. I had no idea that anything in



the shape of a horse could be so limp as that, either living or

dead. His wild mane hung down lumpily, a mere mass of inanimate



horsehair; his aggressive ears had collapsed, but as he went

swaying slowly across the front of the bridge I noticed an astute



gleam in his dreamy, half-closed eye. A trustworthy

quartermaster, his glance anxious and his mouth on the broad



grin, was easing over the derrick watchfully. I superintended,

greatly interested.



"So! That will do."

The derrick-head stopped. The kalashes lined the rail. The rope



of the halter hung perpendicular and motionless like a bell-pull

in front of Almayer. Everything was very still. I suggested



amicably that he should catch hold of the rope and mind what he

was about. He extended a provokingly casual and superior hand.



"Look out then! Lower away!"

Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the



pony's hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most

foolish optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost



without looking, he disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling,

and the cargo-chain, after hitting the pony's quarters, swung



back against the ship's side with a noisy, rattling slap. I

suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed something, because



the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his back on the

jetty. He was alone.



Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer

time to pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The



kalashes lining the rail had all their mouths open. The mist

flew in the light breeze, and it had come over quite thick enough



to hide the shore completely.

"How on earth did you manage to let him get away?" I asked



scandalised.

Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did



not answer my inquiry.

"Where do you think he will get to?" I cried. "Are there any



fences anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest?

What's to be done now?"



Almayer shrugged his shoulders.

"Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him



sooner or later."

"Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas



sling--he's carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two

Celebes cows."



Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island

cattle in addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the



fore deck they had been whisking their tails into the other door

of the galley. These cows were not for Almayer, however; they



were invoiced to Abdullah bin Selim, his enemy. Almayer's

disregard of my requisites was complete.



"If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone," I

insisted. "Hadn't you better call your men together or



something? He will throw himself down and cut his knees. He may

even break a leg, you know."



But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want

that pony any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference I turned



all hands out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at

any rate, to hunt for the canvas sling which he had round his






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