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Typhoon-Part12_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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heads, scratches, bruises, torn wounds, gashes. The broken

porcelain out of the chests was mostlyresponsible for the



latter. Here and there a Chinaman, wild-eyed, with his tail

unplaited, nursed a bleeding sole.



They had been ranged closely, after having been shaken into

submission, cuffed a little to allay excitement, addressed in



gruff words of encouragement that sounded like promises of evil.

They sat on the deck in ghastly, drooping rows, and at the end



the carpenter, with two hands to help him, moved busily from

place to place, setting taut and hitching the life-lines. The



boatswain, with one leg and one arm embracing a stanchion,

struggled with a lamp pressed to his breast, trying to get a



light, and growling all the time like an industrious gorilla.

The figures of seamen stooped repeatedly, with the movements of



gleaners, and everything was being flung into the bunker:

clothing, smashed wood, broken china, and the dollars, too,



gathered up in men's jackets. Now and then a sailor would

stagger towards the doorway with his arms full of rubbish; and



dolorous, slanting eyes followed his movements.

With every roll of the ship the long rows of sitting Celestials



would sway forward brokenly, and her headlong dives knocked

together the line of shaven polls from end to end. When the wash



of water rolling on the deck died away for a moment, it seemed to

Jukes, yet quivering from his exertions, that in his mad struggle



down there he had overcome the wind somehow: that a silence had

fallen upon the ship, a silence in which the sea struck



thunderously at her sides.

Everything had been cleared out of the 'tween-deck -- all the



wreckage, as the men said. They stood erect and tottering above

the level of heads and drooping shoulders. Here and there a



coolie sobbed for his breath. Where the high light fell, Jukes

could see the salient ribs of one, the yellow, wistful face of



another; bowed necks; or would meet a dull stare directed at his

face. He was amazed that there had been no corpses; but the lot



of them seemed at their last gasp, and they appeared to him more

pitiful than if they had been all dead.



Suddenly one of the coolies began to speak. The light came and

went on his lean, straining face; he threw his head up like a



baying hound. From the bunker came the sounds of knocking and

the tinkle of some dollars rolling loose; he stretched out his



arm, his mouth yawned black, and the incomprehensible guttural

hooting sounds, that did not seem to belong to a human language,



penetrated Jukes with a strange emotion as if a brute had tried

to be eloquent.



Two more started mouthing what seemed to Jukes fierce

denunciations; the others stirred with grunts and growls. Jukes



ordered the hands out of the 'tweendecks hurriedly. He left last

himself, backing through the door, while the grunts rose to a



loud murmur and hands were extended after him as after a

malefactor. The boatswain shot the bolt, and remarked uneasily,



"Seems as if the wind had dropped, sir."

The seamen were glad to get back into the alleyway. Secretly each



of them thought that at the last moment he could rush out on deck

-- and that was a comfort. There is something horribly repugnant



in the idea of being drowned under a deck. Now they had done

with the Chinamen, they again became conscious of the ship's



position.

Jukes on coming out of the alleyway found himself up to the neck



in the noisy water. He gained the bridge, and discovered he

could detect obscure shapes as if his sight had become



preternaturally acute. He saw faint outlines. They recalled not

the familiar aspect of the Nan-Shan, but something remembered -an



old dismantled steamer he had seen years ago rotting on a

mudbank. She recalled that wreck.



There was no wind, not a breath, except the faint currents

created by the lurches of the ship. The smoke tossed out of the



funnel was settling down upon her deck. He breathed it as he

passed forward. He felt the deliberate throb of the engines, and



heard small sounds that seemed to have survived the great uproar:

the knocking of broken fittings, the rapid tumbling of some piece



of wreckage on the bridge. He perceived dimly the squat shape of

his captain holding on to a twisted bridge-rail, motionless and



swaying as if rooted to the planks. The unexpectedstillness of




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