the moon and sixpence(月球和六便士)-第51章
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listlessly read。 They are French。 Italian； Spanish； Japanese； coloured；
some are fat and some are thin； and under the thick paint on their faces；
the heavy smears on their eyebrows； and the scarlet of their lips； you see
the lines of age and the scars of dissipation。 Some wear black shifts and
flesh…coloured stockings； some with curly hair； dyed yellow； are dressed
like little girls in short muslin frocks。 Through the open door you see a
red…tiled floor； a large wooden bed； and on a deal table a ewer and a basin。
A motley crowd saunters along the streets Lascars off a P。 and O。； blond
Northmen from a Swedish barque； Japanese from a man…of…war； English
sailors； Spaniards； pleasant…looking fellows from a French cruiser； negroes
off an American tramp。 By day it is merely sordid； but at night； lit only
by the lamps in the little huts； the street has a sinister beauty。 The
hideous lust that pervades the air is oppressive and horrible； and yet there
is something mysterious in the sight which haunts and troubles you。 You
feel I know not what primitive force which repels and yet fascinates you。
Here all the decencies of civilisation are swept away； and you feel that
men are face to face with a sombre reality。 There is an atmosphere that is
at once intense and tragic。
In the bar in which Strickland and Nichols sat a mechanical piano was
loudly grinding out dance music。 Round the room people were sitting at
table； here half a dozen sailors uproariously drunk； there a group of
soldiers； and in the middle； crowded together； couples were dancing。
Bearded sailors with brown faces and large horny hands clasped their
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partners in a tight embrace。 The women wore nothing but a shift。 Now
and then two sailors would get up and dance together。 The noise was
deafening。 People were singing； shouting； laughing； and when a man
gave a long kiss to the girl sitting on his knees； cat…calls from the English
sailors increased the din。 The air was heavy with the dust beaten up by
the heavy boots of the men； and gray with smoke。 It was very hot。
Behind the bar was seated a woman nursing her baby。 The waiter； an
undersized youth with a flat； spotty face； hurried to and fro carrying a tray
laden with glasses of beer。
In a little while Tough Bill； accompanied by two huge negroes； came
in； and it was easy to see that he was already three parts drunk。 He was
looking for trouble。 He lurched against a table at which three soldiers
were sitting and knocked over a glass of beer。 There was an angry
altercation； and the owner of the bar stepped forward and ordered Tough
Bill to go。 He was a hefty fellow； in the habit of standing no nonsense
from his customers； and Tough Bill hesitated。 The landlord was not a
man he cared to tackle； for the police were on his side； and with an oath he
turned on his heel。 Suddenly he caught sight of Strickland。 He rolled
up to him。 He did not speak。 He gathered the spittle in his mouth and
spat full in Strickland's face。 Strickland seized his glass and flung it at
him。 The dancers stopped suddenly still。 There was an instant of
complete silence； but when Tough Bill threw himself on Strickland the lust
of battle seized them all； and in a moment there was a confused scrimmage。
Tables were overturned； glasses crashed to the ground。 There was a
hellish row。 The women scattered to the door and behind the bar。
Passers…by surged in from the street。 You heard curses in every tongue
the sound of blows； cries； and in the middle of the room a dozen men were
fighting with all their might。 On a sudden the police rushed in； and
everyone who could made for the door。 When the bar was more or less
cleared； Tough Bill was lying insensible on the floor with a great gash in
his head。 Captain Nichols dragged Strickland； bleeding from a wound in
his arm； his clothes in rags； into the street。 His own face was covered with
blood from a blow on the nose。
〃I guess you'd better get out of Marseilles before Tough Bill comes out
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of hospital；〃 he said to Strickland； when they had got back to the Chink's
Head and were cleaning themselves。
〃This beats cock…fighting；〃 said Strickland。
I could see his sardonic smile。
Captain Nichols was anxious。 He knew Tough Bill's vindictiveness。
Strickland had downed the mulatto twice； and the mulatto； sober； was a
man to be reckoned with。 He would bide his time stealthily。 He would
be in no hurry； but one night Strickland would get a knife…thrust in his
back； and in a day or two the corpse of a nameless beach…comber would be
fished out of the dirty water of the harbour。 Nichols went next evening to
Tough Bill's house and made enquiries。 He was in hospital still； but his
wife； who had been to see him； said he was swearing hard to kill
Strickland when they let him out。
A week passed。
〃That's what I always say；〃 reflected Captain Nichols； 〃when you hurt
a man； hurt him bad。 It gives you a bit of time to look about and think
what you'll do next。〃
Then Strickland had a bit of luck。 A ship bound for Australia had
sent to the Sailors' Home for a stoker in place of one who had thrown
himself overboard off Gibraltar in an attack of delirium tremens。
〃You double down to the harbour； my lad；〃 said the Captain to
Strickland； 〃and sign on。 You've got your papers。〃
Strickland set off at once； and that was the last Captain Nichols saw of
him。 The ship was only in port for six hours； and in the evening Captain
Nichols watched the vanishing smoke from her funnels as she ploughed
East through the wintry sea。
I have narrated all this as best I could； because I like the contrast of
these episodes with the life that I had seen Strickland live in Ashley
Gardens when he was occupied with stocks and shares； but I am aware
that Captain Nichols was an outrageous liar； and I dare say there is not a
word of truth in anything he told me。 I should not be surprised to learn
that he had never seen Strickland in his life； and owed his knowledge of
Marseilles to the pages of a magazine。
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Chapter XLVIII
It is here that I purposed to end my book。 My first idea was to begin
it with the account of Strickland's last years in Tahiti and with his horrible
death； and then to go back and relate what I knew of his beginnings。
This I meant to do； not from wilfulness； but because I wished to leave
Strickland setting out with I know not what fancies in his lonely soul for
