the mirror of the sea-第29章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！




beautiful；　vast；　and　safe　bays　the　sun　ever　shone　upon。　　Now　great



steam…liners　lie　at　these　berths；　always　reserved　for　the　sea



aristocracy　…　grand　and　imposing　enough　ships；　but　here　to…day　and



gone　next　week；　whereas　the　general　cargo；　emigrant；　and　passenger



clippers　of　my　time；　rigged　with　heavy　spars；　and　built　on　fine



lines；　used　to　remain　for　months　together　waiting　for　their　load　of



wool。　　Their　names　attained　the　dignity　of　household　words。　　On



Sundays　and　holidays　the　citizens　trooped　down；　on　visiting　bent；



and　the　lonely　officer　on　duty　solaced　himself　by　playing　the



cicerone　…　especially　to　the　citizenesses　with　engaging　manners　and



a　well…developed　sense　of　the　fun　that　may　be　got　out　of　the



inspection　of　a　ship's　cabins　and　state…rooms。　　The　tinkle　of　more



or　less　untuned　cottage　pianos　floated　out　of　open　stern…ports　till



the　gas…lamps　began　to　twinkle　in　the　streets；　and　the　ship's



night…watchman；　coming　sleepily　on　duty　after　his　unsatisfactory



day　slumbers；　hauled　down　the　flags　and　fastened　a　lighted　lantern



at　the　break　of　the　gangway。　　The　night　closed　rapidly　upon　the



silent　ships　with　their　crews　on　shore。　　Up　a　short；　steep　ascent



by　the　King's　Head　pub。；　patronized　by　the　cooks　and　stewards　of



the　fleet；　the　voice　of　a　man　crying　〃Hot　saveloys！〃　at　the　end　of



George　Street；　where　the　cheap　eating…houses　（sixpence　a　meal）　were



kept　by　Chinamen　（Sun…kum…on's　was　not　bad）；　is　heard　at　regular



intervals。　　I　have　listened　for　hours　to　this　most　pertinacious



pedlar　（I　wonder　whether　he　is　dead　or　has　made　a　fortune）；　while



sitting　on　the　rail　of　the　old　Duke　of　S…　（she's　dead；　poor　thing！



a　violent　death　on　the　coast　of　New　Zealand）；　fascinated　by　the



monotony；　the　regularity；　the　abruptness　of　the　recurring　cry；　and



so　exasperated　at　the　absurd　spell；　that　I　wished　the　fellow　would



choke　himself　to　death　with　a　mouthful　of　his　own　infamous　wares。







A　stupid　job；　and　fit　only　for　an　old　man；　my　comrades　used　to　tell



me；　to　be　the　night…watchman　of　a　captive　（though　honoured）　ship。



And　generally　the　oldest　of　the　able　seamen　in　a　ship's　crew　does



get　it。　　But　sometimes　neither　the　oldest　nor　any　other　fairly



steady　seaman　is　forthcoming。　　Ships'　crews　had　the　trick　of



melting　away　swiftly　in　those　days。　　So；　probably　on　account　of　my



youth；　innocence；　and　pensive　habits　（which　made　me　sometimes



dilatory　in　my　work　about　the　rigging）；　I　was　suddenly　nominated；



in　our　chief　mate　Mr。　B…'s　most　sardonic　tones；　to　that　enviable



situation。　　I　do　not　regret　the　experience。　　The　night　humours　of



the　town　descended　from　the　street　to　the　waterside　in　the　still



watches　of　the　night：　　larrikins　rushing　down　in　bands　to　settle



some　quarrel　by　a　stand…up　fight；　away　from　the　police；　in　an



indistinct　ring　half　hidden　by　piles　of　cargo；　with　the　sounds　of



blows；　a　groan　now　and　then；　the　stamping　of　feet；　and　the　cry　of



〃Time！〃　rising　suddenly　above　the　sinister　and　excited　murmurs；



night…prowlers；　pursued　or　pursuing；　with　a　stifled　shriek　followed



by　a　profound　silence；　or　slinking　stealthily　along…side　like



ghosts；　and　addressing　me　from　the　quay　below　in　mysterious　tones



with　incomprehensible　propositions。　　The　cabmen；　too；　who　twice　a



week；　on　the　night　when　the　A。S。N。　Company's　passenger…boat　was　due



to　arrive；　used　to　range　a　battalion　of　blazing　lamps　opposite　the



ship；　were　very　amusing　in　their　way。　　They　got　down　from　their



perches　and　told　each　other　impolite　stories　in　racy　language；



every　word　of　which　reached　me　distinctly　over　the　bulwarks　as　I



sat　smoking　on　the　main…hatch。　　On　one　occasion　I　had　an　hour　or　so



of　a　most　intellectual　conversation　with　a　person　whom　I　could　not



see　distinctly；　a　gentleman　from　England；　he　said；　with　a



cultivated　voice；　I　on　deck　and　he　on　the　quay　sitting　on　the　case



of　a　piano　（landed　out　of　our　hold　that　very　afternoon）；　and



smoking　a　cigar　which　smelt　very　good。　　We　touched；　in　our



discourse；　upon　science；　politics；　natural　history；　and　operatic



singers。　　Then；　after　remarking　abruptly；　〃You　seem　to　be　rather



intelligent；　my　man；〃　he　informed　me　pointedly　that　his　name　was



Mr。　Senior；　and　walked　off　…　to　his　hotel；　I　suppose。　　Shadows！



Shadows！　　I　think　I　saw　a　white　whisker　as　he　turned　under　the



lamp…post。　　It　is　a　shock　to　think　that　in　the　natural　course　of



nature　he　must　be　dead　by　now。　　There　was　nothing　to　object　to　in



his　intelligence　but　a　little　dogmatism　maybe。　　And　his　name　was



Senior！　　Mr。　Senior！







The　position　had　its　drawbacks；　however。　　One　wintry；　blustering；



dark　night　in　July；　as　I　stood　sleepily　out　of　the　rain　under　the



break　of　the　poop　something　resembling　an　ostrich　dashed　up　the



gangway。　　I　say　ostrich　because　the　creature；　though　it　ran　on　two



legs；　appeared　to　help　its　progress　by　working　a　pair　of　short



wings；　it　was　a　man；　however；　only　his　coat；　ripped　up　the　back　and



flapping　in　two　halves　above　his　shoulders；　gave　him　that　weird　and



fowl…like　appearance。　　At　least；　I　suppose　it　was　his　coat；　for　it



was　impossible　to　make　him　out　distinctly。　　How　he　managed　to　come



so　straight　upon　me；　at　speed　and　without　a　stumble　over　a　strange



deck；　I　cannot　imagine。　　He　must　have　been　able　to　see　in　the　dark



better　than　any　cat。　　He　overwhelmed　me　with　panting　entreaties　to



let　him　take　shelter　till　morning　in　our　forecastle。　　Following　my



strict　orders；　I　refused　his　request；　mildly　at　first；　in　a　sterner



tone　as　he　insisted　with　growing　impudence。







〃For　God's　sake　let　me；　matey！　　Some　of　'em　are　after　me　…　and　I've



got　hold　of　a　ticker　here。〃







〃You　clear　out　of　this！〃　I　said。







〃Don't　be　hard　on　a　chap；　old　man！〃　he　whined　pitifully。







〃Now　then；　get　ashore　at　once。　　Do　you　hear？〃







Silence。　　He　appeared　to　cringe；　mute；　as　if　words　had　failed　him



through　grief；　then　…　bang！　came　a　concussion　and　a　great　flash　of



light　in　which　he　vanished；　leaving　me　prone　on　my　back　with　the



most　abominable　black　eye　that　anybody　ever　got　in　the　faithful



discharge　of　duty。　　Shadows！　　Shadows！　　I　hope　he　escaped　the



enemies　he　was　fleeing　from　to　live　and　flourish　to　this　day。　　But



his　fist　was　uncommonly　hard　and　his　aim　miraculously　true　in　the



dark。







There　were　other　experiences；　less　painful　and　more　funny　for　the



most　part；　with　one　amongst　them　of　a　dramatic　complexion；　but　the



greatest　experience　of　them　all　was　Mr。　B…；　our　chief　mate　himself。







He　used　to　go　ashore　every　night　to　foregather　in　some　hotel's



parlour　with　his　crony；　the　mate　of　the　barque　Cicero；　lying　on　the



other　side　of　the　Circular　Quay。　　Late　at　night　I　would　hear　from



afar　their　stumbling　footsteps　and　their　voices　raised　in　endless



argument。　　The　mate　of　the　Cicero　was　seeing　his　friend　on　board。



They　would　continue　their　senseless　and　muddled　discourse　in　tones



of　profound　friendship　for　half　an　hour　or　so　at　the　shore　end　of



our　gangway；　and　then　I　would　hear　Mr。　B…　insisting　that　he　must



see　the　other　on　board　his　ship。　　And　away　they　would　go；　their



voices；　still　conversing　with　excessive　amity；　being　heard　moving



all　round　the　harbour。　　It　happened　more　than　once　that　they　would



thus　perambulate　three　or　four　times　the　distance；　each　seeing　the



other　on　board　his　ship　out　of　pure　and　disinterested　affection。



Then；　through　sheer　weariness；　or　perhaps　in　a　moment　of



forgetfulness；　they　would　manage　to　part　from　each　other　somehow；



and　by…and…by　the　planks　of　our　long　gangway　would　bend　and　creak



under　the　weight　of　Mr。　B…　coming　on　board　for　good　at　last。







On　the　rail　his　burly　form　would　stop　and　stand　swaying。







〃Watchman！〃







〃Sir。〃







A　pause。







He　waited　for　a　moment　of　steadiness　before　negotiating　the　three



steps　of　the　inside