章节正文
To-morrow
by Joseph Conrad
What was known of Captain Hagberd in the little
seaport of Colebrook was not exactly in his favour.
He did not belong to the place. He had come to
settle there under circumstances not at all myste-
rious--he used to be very communicative about
them at the time--but extremely morbid and un-
reasonable. He was possessed of some little money
evidently, because he bought a plot of ground, and
had a pair of ugly yellow brick cottages run up
very cheaply. He occupied one of them himself
and let the other to Josiah Carvil--blind Carvil,
the retired boat-builder--a man of evil repute as a
domestic tyrant.
These cottages had one wall in common, shared
in a line of iron railing dividing their front gar-
dens; a wooden fence separated their back gardens.
Miss Bessie Carvil was allowed, as it were of right,
to throw over it the tea-cloths, blue rags, or an
apron that wanted drying.
"It rots the wood, Bessie my girl," the captain
would remark mildly, from his side of the fence,
each time he saw her exercising that privilege.
She was a tall girl; the fence was low, and
she could spread her elbows on the top. Her hands
would be red with the bit of washing she had done,
but her forearms were white and shapely, and she
would look at her father's landlord in silence--in
an informed silence which had an air of knowledge,
expectation and desire.
"It rots the wood," repeated Captain Hagberd.
"It is the only unthrifty, careless habit I know in
you. Why don't you have a clothes line out in your
back yard?"
Miss Carvil would say nothing to this--she only
shook her head negatively. The tiny back yard
on her side had a few stone-bordered little beds of
black earth, in which the simple flowers she found
time to cultivate appeared somehow extravagantly
overgrown, as if belonging to an exotic clime; and
Captain Hagberd's upright, hale person, clad in
No. 1 sail-cloth from head to foot, would be emer-
ging knee-deep out of rank grass and the tall weeks
on his side of the fence. He appeared, with the col-
our and uncouth stiffness of the extraordinary ma-
terial in which he chose to clothe himself--"for the
time being," would be his mumbled remark to any
observation on the subject--like a man roughened
out of granite, standing in a wilderness not big
enough for a decent billiard-room. A heavy figure
of a man of stone, with a red handsome face, a blue
wandering eye, and a great white beard flowing
to his waist and never trimmed as far as Colebrook
knew.
Seven years before, he had seriously answered,
"Next month, I think," to the chaffing attempt to
secure his custom made by that distinguished local
wit, the Colebrook barber, who happened to be sit-
ting insolently in the tap-room of the New Inn near
the harbour, where the captain had entered to buy
an ounce of tobacco. After paying for his pur-
chase with three half-pence extracted from the cor-
ner of a handkerchief which he carried in the cuff
of his sleeve, Captain Hagberd went out. As soon
as the door was shut the barber laughed. "The
old one and the young one will be strolling arm in
arm to get shaved in my place presently. The
tailor shall be set to work, and the barber, and the
candlestick maker; high old times are coming for
Colebrook, they are coming, to be sure. It used to
be 'next week,' now it has come to 'next month,'
and so on--soon it will be next spring, for all I
know."
Noticing a stranger listening to him with a va-
cant grin, he explained, stretching out his legs cyn-
ically, that this queer old Hagberd, a retired coast-
ing-skipper, was waiting for the return of a son of
his. The boy had been driven away from home, he
shouldn't wonder; had run away to sea and had
never been heard of since. Put to rest in Davy
Jones's locker this many a day, as likely as not.
That old man came flying to Colebrook three
years ago all in black broadcloth (had lost his wife
lately then), getting out of a third-class smoker
as if the devil had been at his heels; and the only
thing that brought him down was a letter--a hoax
probably. Some joker had written to him about a
seafaring man with some such name who was sup-
posed to be hanging about some girl or other, either
in Colebrook or in the neighbourhood. "Funny,
ain't it?" The old chap had been advertising in
the London papers for Harry Hagberd, and offer-
ing rewards for any sort of likely information.
And the barber would go on to describe with sar-
donic gusto, how that stranger in mourning had
been seen exploring the country, in carts, on foot,
taking everybody into his confidence, visiting all
the inns and alehouses for miles around, stopping
people on the road with his questions, looking into
the very ditches almost; first in the greatest excite-
ment, then with a plodding sort of perseverance,
growing slower and slower; and he could not even
tell you plainly how his son looked. The sailor
was supposed to be one of two that had left a tim-
ber ship, and to have been seen dangling after some
girl; but the old man described a boy of fourteen
or so--"a clever-looking, high-spirited boy." And
when people only smiled at this he would rub his
forehead in a confused sort of way before he slunk
off, looking offended. He found nobody, of
course; not a trace of anybody--never heard of
anything worth belief, at any rate; but he had not
been able somehow to tear himself away from Cole-
brook.
"It was the shock of this disappointment, per-
haps, coming soon after the loss of his wife, that
had driven him crazy on that point," the barber
suggested, with an air of great psychological in-
sight. After a time the old man abandoned the ac-
tive search. His son had evidently gone away;
but he settled himself to wait. His son had been
once at least in Colebrook in preference to his na-
tive place. There must have been some reason for
it, he seemed to think, some very powerful induce-
ment, that would bring him back to Colebrook
again.
"Ha, ha, ha! Why, of course, Colebrook.
Where else? That's the only place in the United
Kingdom for your long-lost sons. So he sold up
his old home in Colchester, and down he comes here.
Well, it's a craze, like any other. Wouldn't catch
me going crazy over any of my youngsters clear-
ing out. I've got eight of them at home." The
barber was showing off his strength of mind in the
midst of a laughter that shook the tap-room.
Strange, though, that sort of thing, he would
confess, with the frankness of a superior intelli-
gence, seemed to be catching. His establishment,
for instance, was near the harbour, and whenever a
sailorman came in for a hair-cut or a shave--if it
was a strange face he couldn't help thinking di-
rectly, "Suppose he's the son of old Hagberd!"
He laughed at himself for it. It was a strong
craze. He could remember the time when the whole
town was full of it. But he had his hopes of the
old chap yet. He would cure him by a course of
judicious chaffing. He was watching the progress
of the treatment. Next week--next month--next
year! When the old skipper had put off the date
of that return till next year, he would be well on
his way to not saying any more about it. In other
matters he was quite rational, so this, too, was
bound to come. Such was the barber's firm opin-
ion.
Nobody had ever contradicted him; his own hair
had gone grey since that time, and Captain Hag-
berd's beard had turned quite white, and had ac-
quired a majestic flow over the No. 1 canvas suit,
which he had made for himself secretly with tarred
twine, and had assumed suddenly, coming out in
it one fine morning, whereas the evening before he
had been seen going home in his mourning of
broadcloth. It caused a sensation in the High
Street--shopkeepers coming to their doors, people
in the houses snatching up their hats to run out--
a stir at which he seemed strangely surprised at
first, and then scared; but his only answer to the
wondering questions was that startled and evasive,
"For the present."
That sensation had been forgotten, long ago;
and Captain Hagberd himself, if not forgotten,
had come to be disregarded--the penalty of daili-
ness--as the sun itself is disregarded unless it
makes its power felt heavily. Captain Hagberd's
movements showed no infirmity: he walked stiffly
in his suit of canvas, a quaint and remarkable fig-
ure; only his eyes wandered more furtively perhaps
than of yore. His manner abroad had lost its ex-
citable watchfulness; it had become puzzled and
diffident, as though he had suspected that there
was somewhere about him something slightly com-
promising, some embarrassing oddity; and yet had
remained unable to discover what on earth this
something wrong could be.
He was unwilling now to talk with the townsfolk.
He had earned for himself the reputation of an
awful skinflint, of a miser in the matter of living.
He mumbled regretfully in the shops, bought in-
ferior scraps of meat after long hesitations; and
discouraged all allusions to his costume. It was
as the barber had foretold. For all one could tell,
he had recovered already from the disease of hope;
and only Miss Bessie Carvil knew that he said noth-
ing about his son's return because with him it was
no longer "next week," "next month," or even
"next year." It was "to-morrow."
In their intimacy of back yard and front gar-
den he talked with her paternally, reasonably, and
dogmatically, with a touch of arbitrariness. They
met on the ground of unreserved confidence, which
by Joseph Conrad
What was known of Captain Hagberd in the little
seaport of Colebrook was not exactly in his favour.
He did not belong to the place. He had come to
settle there under circumstances not at all myste-
rious--he used to be very communicative about
them at the time--but extremely morbid and un-
reasonable. He was possessed of some little money
evidently, because he bought a plot of ground, and
had a pair of ugly yellow brick cottages run up
very cheaply. He occupied one of them himself
and let the other to Josiah Carvil--blind Carvil,
the retired boat-builder--a man of evil repute as a
domestic tyrant.
These cottages had one wall in common, shared
in a line of iron railing dividing their front gar-
dens; a wooden fence separated their back gardens.
Miss Bessie Carvil was allowed, as it were of right,
to throw over it the tea-cloths, blue rags, or an
apron that wanted drying.
"It rots the wood, Bessie my girl," the captain
would remark mildly, from his side of the fence,
each time he saw her exercising that privilege.
She was a tall girl; the fence was low, and
she could spread her elbows on the top. Her hands
would be red with the bit of washing she had done,
but her forearms were white and shapely, and she
would look at her father's landlord in silence--in
an informed silence which had an air of knowledge,
expectation and desire.
"It rots the wood," repeated Captain Hagberd.
"It is the only unthrifty, careless habit I know in
you. Why don't you have a clothes line out in your
back yard?"
Miss Carvil would say nothing to this--she only
shook her head negatively. The tiny back yard
on her side had a few stone-bordered little beds of
black earth, in which the simple flowers she found
time to cultivate appeared somehow extravagantly
overgrown, as if belonging to an exotic clime; and
Captain Hagberd's upright, hale person, clad in
No. 1 sail-cloth from head to foot, would be emer-
ging knee-deep out of rank grass and the tall weeks
on his side of the fence. He appeared, with the col-
our and uncouth stiffness of the extraordinary ma-
terial in which he chose to clothe himself--"for the
time being," would be his mumbled remark to any
observation on the subject--like a man roughened
out of granite, standing in a wilderness not big
enough for a decent billiard-room. A heavy figure
of a man of stone, with a red handsome face, a blue
wandering eye, and a great white beard flowing
to his waist and never trimmed as far as Colebrook
knew.
Seven years before, he had seriously answered,
"Next month, I think," to the chaffing attempt to
secure his custom made by that distinguished local
wit, the Colebrook barber, who happened to be sit-
ting insolently in the tap-room of the New Inn near
the harbour, where the captain had entered to buy
an ounce of tobacco. After paying for his pur-
chase with three half-pence extracted from the cor-
ner of a handkerchief which he carried in the cuff
of his sleeve, Captain Hagberd went out. As soon
as the door was shut the barber laughed. "The
old one and the young one will be strolling arm in
arm to get shaved in my place presently. The
tailor shall be set to work, and the barber, and the
candlestick maker; high old times are coming for
Colebrook, they are coming, to be sure. It used to
be 'next week,' now it has come to 'next month,'
and so on--soon it will be next spring, for all I
know."
Noticing a stranger listening to him with a va-
cant grin, he explained, stretching out his legs cyn-
ically, that this queer old Hagberd, a retired coast-
ing-skipper, was waiting for the return of a son of
his. The boy had been driven away from home, he
shouldn't wonder; had run away to sea and had
never been heard of since. Put to rest in Davy
Jones's locker this many a day, as likely as not.
That old man came flying to Colebrook three
years ago all in black broadcloth (had lost his wife
lately then), getting out of a third-class smoker
as if the devil had been at his heels; and the only
thing that brought him down was a letter--a hoax
probably. Some joker had written to him about a
seafaring man with some such name who was sup-
posed to be hanging about some girl or other, either
in Colebrook or in the neighbourhood. "Funny,
ain't it?" The old chap had been advertising in
the London papers for Harry Hagberd, and offer-
ing rewards for any sort of likely information.
And the barber would go on to describe with sar-
donic gusto, how that stranger in mourning had
been seen exploring the country, in carts, on foot,
taking everybody into his confidence, visiting all
the inns and alehouses for miles around, stopping
people on the road with his questions, looking into
the very ditches almost; first in the greatest excite-
ment, then with a plodding sort of perseverance,
growing slower and slower; and he could not even
tell you plainly how his son looked. The sailor
was supposed to be one of two that had left a tim-
ber ship, and to have been seen dangling after some
girl; but the old man described a boy of fourteen
or so--"a clever-looking, high-spirited boy." And
when people only smiled at this he would rub his
forehead in a confused sort of way before he slunk
off, looking offended. He found nobody, of
course; not a trace of anybody--never heard of
anything worth belief, at any rate; but he had not
been able somehow to tear himself away from Cole-
brook.
"It was the shock of this disappointment, per-
haps, coming soon after the loss of his wife, that
had driven him crazy on that point," the barber
suggested, with an air of great psychological in-
sight. After a time the old man abandoned the ac-
tive search. His son had evidently gone away;
but he settled himself to wait. His son had been
once at least in Colebrook in preference to his na-
tive place. There must have been some reason for
it, he seemed to think, some very powerful induce-
ment, that would bring him back to Colebrook
again.
"Ha, ha, ha! Why, of course, Colebrook.
Where else? That's the only place in the United
Kingdom for your long-lost sons. So he sold up
his old home in Colchester, and down he comes here.
Well, it's a craze, like any other. Wouldn't catch
me going crazy over any of my youngsters clear-
ing out. I've got eight of them at home." The
barber was showing off his strength of mind in the
midst of a laughter that shook the tap-room.
Strange, though, that sort of thing, he would
confess, with the frankness of a superior intelli-
gence, seemed to be catching. His establishment,
for instance, was near the harbour, and whenever a
sailorman came in for a hair-cut or a shave--if it
was a strange face he couldn't help thinking di-
rectly, "Suppose he's the son of old Hagberd!"
He laughed at himself for it. It was a strong
craze. He could remember the time when the whole
town was full of it. But he had his hopes of the
old chap yet. He would cure him by a course of
judicious chaffing. He was watching the progress
of the treatment. Next week--next month--next
year! When the old skipper had put off the date
of that return till next year, he would be well on
his way to not saying any more about it. In other
matters he was quite rational, so this, too, was
bound to come. Such was the barber's firm opin-
ion.
Nobody had ever contradicted him; his own hair
had gone grey since that time, and Captain Hag-
berd's beard had turned quite white, and had ac-
quired a majestic flow over the No. 1 canvas suit,
which he had made for himself secretly with tarred
twine, and had assumed suddenly, coming out in
it one fine morning, whereas the evening before he
had been seen going home in his mourning of
broadcloth. It caused a sensation in the High
Street--shopkeepers coming to their doors, people
in the houses snatching up their hats to run out--
a stir at which he seemed strangely surprised at
first, and then scared; but his only answer to the
wondering questions was that startled and evasive,
"For the present."
That sensation had been forgotten, long ago;
and Captain Hagberd himself, if not forgotten,
had come to be disregarded--the penalty of daili-
ness--as the sun itself is disregarded unless it
makes its power felt heavily. Captain Hagberd's
movements showed no infirmity: he walked stiffly
in his suit of canvas, a quaint and remarkable fig-
ure; only his eyes wandered more furtively perhaps
than of yore. His manner abroad had lost its ex-
citable watchfulness; it had become puzzled and
diffident, as though he had suspected that there
was somewhere about him something slightly com-
promising, some embarrassing oddity; and yet had
remained unable to discover what on earth this
something wrong could be.
He was unwilling now to talk with the townsfolk.
He had earned for himself the reputation of an
awful skinflint, of a miser in the matter of living.
He mumbled regretfully in the shops, bought in-
ferior scraps of meat after long hesitations; and
discouraged all allusions to his costume. It was
as the barber had foretold. For all one could tell,
he had recovered already from the disease of hope;
and only Miss Bessie Carvil knew that he said noth-
ing about his son's return because with him it was
no longer "next week," "next month," or even
"next year." It was "to-morrow."
In their intimacy of back yard and front gar-
den he talked with her paternally, reasonably, and
dogmatically, with a touch of arbitrariness. They
met on the ground of unreserved confidence, which
- extremely [ik´stri:mli]
ad.极端地；非常地 (初中英语单词) - wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- landlord [´lændlɔ:d] n.地主；房东；店主 (初中英语单词)
- careless [´keəlis] a.粗心的；草率的 (初中英语单词)
- cultivate [´kʌltiveit] vt.耕作；培植；培养 (初中英语单词)
- extraordinary [ik´strɔ:dinəri] a.非常的；额外的 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
- seriously [´siəriəsli] ad.严肃；严重，重大 (初中英语单词)
- barber [´bɑ:bə] n.理发师 (初中英语单词)
- tobacco [tə´bækəu] n.烟草(叶)；卷烟 (初中英语单词)
- handkerchief [´hæŋkətʃif] n.手帕，手绢 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- advertising [´ædvətaiziŋ] n.广告a.广告的 (初中英语单词)
- mourning [´mɔ:niŋ] n.悲伤；治丧；戴孝 (初中英语单词)
- plainly [´pleinli] ad.平坦地；简单地 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- belief [bi´li:f] n.相信；信仰，信条 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
- treatment [´tri:tmənt] n.待遇；对待；治疗 (初中英语单词)
- canvas [´kænvəs] n.帆布；油画(布) (初中英语单词)
- whereas [weər´æz] conj.鉴于；因此；而 (初中英语单词)
- sensation [sen´seiʃən] n.感觉；轰动；轰动一时 (初中英语单词)
- strangely [´streindʒli] ad.奇怪地；陌生地 (初中英语单词)
- remarkable [ri´mɑ:kəbl] a.值得注意的；显著的 (初中英语单词)
- abroad [ə´brɔ:d] ad.海外；到处；广泛 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- costume [´kɔstju:m] n.服装(试样)；女装 (初中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- granite [´grænit] n.花岗岩 (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- distinguished [di´stiŋgwiʃt] a.卓越的，著名的 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- preference [´prefərəns] n.优先选择；偏爱(物) (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- majestic [mə´dʒestik] a.雄伟的；崇高的 (高中英语单词)
- secretly [´si:kritli] ad.秘密地；隐蔽地 (高中英语单词)
- penalty [´penlti] n.刑罚；惩罚；障碍 (高中英语单词)
- quaint [kweint] a.离奇的；奇妙的 (高中英语单词)
- railing [´reiliŋ] n.栏杆 (英语四级单词)
- mildly [´maildli] ad.温和地；适度地 (英语四级单词)
- psychological [,saikə´lɔdʒikəl] a.心理学(上)的 (英语四级单词)
- skipper [´skipə] n.&vi.(当)船长 (英语四级单词)
- rational [´ræʃənəl] a.(有)理性的；合理的 (英语四级单词)
- unwilling [ʌn´wiliŋ] a.不愿意的；不情愿的 (英语四级单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- intimacy [´intiməsi] n.亲密；熟悉；秘密 (英语四级单词)
- reasonably [´ri:zənəbli] ad.有理地；合理地 (英语四级单词)
- retired [ri´taiəd] a.退休的；通职的 (英语六级单词)
- repute [ri´pju:t] n.名誉(声) vt.称为 (英语六级单词)
- uncouth [ʌn´ku:θ] a.粗野的；笨拙的 (英语六级单词)
- abandoned [ə´bændənd] a.被抛弃的；无约束的 (英语六级单词)
- frankness [´fræŋknis] n.坦白，直率，真诚 (英语六级单词)
- infirmity [in´fə:miti] n.虚弱；意志薄弱 (英语六级单词)
- foretold [fɔ:´təuld] foretell过去式(分词) (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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