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rambling idle excursion-第4章

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thirty…five; with a brown hand of such majestic size that one cannot eat
for admiring it and wondering if a single kid or calf could furnish
material for gloving it。

Conversation not general; drones along between couples。  One catches a
sentence here and there。 Like this; from Bermudian of thirteen years'
absence: 〃It is the nature of women to ask trivial; irrelevant; and
pursuing questionsquestions that pursue you from a beginning in nothing
to a run…to…cover in nowhere。〃  Reply of Bermudian of twenty…seven years'
absence:  〃Yes; and to think they have logical; analytical minds and
argumentative ability。  You see 'em begin to whet up whenever they smell
argument in the air。〃  Plainly these be philosophers。

Twice since we left port our engines have stopped for a couple of minutes
at a time。  Now they stop again。  Says the pale young man; meditatively;
〃There!that engineer is sitting down to rest again。〃

Grave stare from the captain; whose mighty jaws cease to work; and whose
harpooned potato stops in midair on its way to his open; paralyzed mouth。
Presently he says in measured tones; 〃Is it your idea that the engineer
of this ship propels her by a crank turned by his own hands?〃

The pale young man studies over this a moment; then lifts up his
guileless eyes; and says; 〃Don't he?〃

Thus gently falls the death…blow to further conversation; and the dinner
drags to its close in a reflective silence; disturbed by no sounds but
the murmurous wash of the sea and the subdued clash of teeth。

After a smoke and a promenade on deck; where is no motion to discompose
our steps; we think of a game of whist。  We ask the brisk and capable
stewardess from Ireland if there are any cards in the ship。

〃Bless your soul; dear; indeed there is。  Not a whole pack; true for ye;
but not enough missing to signify。

However; I happened by accident to bethink me of a new pack in a morocco
case; in my trunk; which I had placed there by mistake; thinking it to be
a flask of something。  So a party of us conquered the tedium of the
evening with a few games and were ready for bed at six bells; mariner's
time; the signal for putting out the lights。

There was much chat in the smoking…cabin on the upper deck after luncheon
to…day; mostly whaler yarns from those old sea…captains。  Captain Tom
Bowling was garrulous。  He had that garrulous attention to minor detail
which is born of secluded farm life or life at sea on long voyages; where
there is little to do and time no object。  He would sail along till he
was right in the most exciting part of a yarn; and then say; 〃Well; as I
was saying; the rudder was fouled; ship driving before the gale; head…on;
straight for the iceberg; all hands holding their breath; turned to
stone; top…hamper giving 'way; sails blown to ribbons; first one stick
going; then another; boom! smash! crash! duck your head and stand from
under! when up comes Johnny Rogers; capstan…bar in hand; eyes a…blazing;
hair a…flying 。  。  。  no; 'twa'n't Johnny Rogers。  。  。  lemme see 。  。
。  seems to me Johnny Rogers wa'n't along that voyage; he was along one
voyage; I know that mighty well; but somehow it seems to me that he
signed the articles for this voyage; butbutwhether he come along or
not; or got left; or something happened〃

And so on and so on till the excitement all cooled down and nobody cared
whether the ship struck the iceberg or not。

In the course of his talk he rambled into a criticism upon New England
degrees of merit in ship building。  Said he; 〃You get a vessel built away
down Maine…way; Bath; for instance; what's the result?  First thing you
do; you want to heave her down for repairsthat's the result!  Well;
sir; she hain't been hove down a week till you can heave a dog through
her seams。  You send that vessel to sea; and what's the result?  She wets
her oakum the first trip!  Leave it to any man if 'tain't so。  Well; you
let our folks build you a vesseldown New Bedford…way。  What's the
result?  Well; sir; you might take that ship and heave her down; and keep
her hove down six months; and she'll never shed a tear!〃

Everybody; landsmen and all; recognized the descriptive neatness of that
figure; and applauded; which greatly pleased the old man。  A moment
later; the meek eyes of the pale young fellow heretofore mentioned came
up slowly; rested upon the old man's face a moment; and the meek mouth
began to open。

〃Shet your head!〃 shouted the old mariner。

It was a rather startling surprise to everybody; but it was effective in
the matter of its purpose。  So the conversation flowed on instead of
perishing。

There was some talk about the perils of the sea; and a landsman delivered
himself of the customary nonsense about the poor mariner wandering in far
oceans; tempest…tossed; pursued by dangers; every storm…blast and
thunderbolt in the home skies moving the friends by snug firesides to
compassion for that poor mariner; and prayers for his succor。  Captain
Bowling put up with this for a while; and then burst out with a new view
of the matter。

〃Come; belay there!  I have read this kind of rot all my life in poetry
and tales and such…like rubbage。  Pity for the poor mariner! sympathy for
the poor mariner!  All right enough; but not in the way the poetry puts
it。  Pity for the mariner's wife! all right again; but not in the way the
poetry puts it。  Look…a here! whose life's the safest in the whole world
The poor mariner's。  You look at the statistics; you'll see。  So don't
you fool away any sympathy on the poor mariner's dangers and privations
and sufferings。  Leave that to the poetry muffs。  Now you look at the
other side a minute。  Here is Captain Brace; forty years old; been at sea
thirty。  On his way now to take command of his ship and sail south from
Bermuda。  Next week he'll be under way; easy times; comfortable quarters;
passengers; sociable company; just enough to do to keep his mind healthy
and not tire him; king over his ship; boss of everything and everybody;
thirty years' safety to learn him that his profession ain't a dangerous
one。  Now you look back at his home。  His wife's a feeble woman; she's a
stranger in New York; shut up in blazing hot or freezing cold lodgings;
according to the season; don't know anybody hardly; no company but her
lonesomeness and her thoughts; husband gone six months at a time。  She
has borne eight children; five of them she has buried without her husband
ever setting eyes on them。  She watches them all the long nights till
they diedhe comfortable on the sea; she followed them to the grave she
heard the clods fall that broke her heart he comfortable on the sea; she
mourned at home; weeks and weeks; missing them every day and every hour
he cheerful at sea; knowing nothing about it。  Now look at it a minute
turn it over in your mind and size it: five children born; she among
strangers; and him not by to hearten her; buried; and him not by to
comfort her; think of that!  Sympathy for the poor mariner's perils is
rot; give it to his wife's hard lines; where it belongs!  Poetry makes
out that all the wife worries about is the dangers her husband's running。
She's got substantialer thi
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