three men in a boat-第22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！



offers　in　moments　of　excitement；　but；　of　course；　when　one　comes　to　think　

of　it；　one　sees　how　absurdly　out　of　proportion　they　are　with　the　value　of　

the　required　article。　　I　heard　a　man；　going　up　a　mountain　in　Switzerland；　

once　say　he　would　give　worlds　for　a　glass　of　beer；　and；　when　he　came　to　a　

little　shanty　where　they　kept　it；　he　kicked　up　a　most　fearful　row　because　

they　charged　him　five　francs　for　a　bottle　of　Bass。　　He　said　it　was　a　

scandalous　imposition；　and　he　wrote　to　the　TIMES　about　it。



It　cast　a　gloom　over　the　boat；　there　being　no　mustard。　　We　ate　our　beef　

in　silence。　　Existence　seemed　hollow　and　uninteresting。　　We　thought　of　

the　happy　days　of　childhood；　and　sighed。　　We　brightened　up　a　bit；　

however；　over　the　apple…tart；　and；　when　George　drew　out　a　tin　of　pine…

apple　from　the　bottom　of　the　hamper；　and　rolled　it　into　the　middle　of　the　

boat；　we　felt　that　life　was　worth　living　after　all。



We　are　very　fond　of　pine…apple；　all　three　of　us。　　We　looked　at　the　

picture　on　the　tin；　we　thought　of　the　juice。　　We　smiled　at　one　another；　

and　Harris　got　a　spoon　ready。



Then　we　looked　for　the　knife　to　open　the　tin　with。　　We　turned　out　

everything　in　the　hamper。　　We　turned　out　the　bags。　　We　pulled　up　the　

boards　at　the　bottom　of　the　boat。　　We　took　everything　out　on　to　the　bank　

and　shook　it。　　There　was　no　tin…opener　to　be　found。



Then　Harris　tried　to　open　the　tin　with　a　pocket…knife；　and　broke　the　

knife　and　cut　himself　badly；　and　George　tried　a　pair　of　scissors；　and　the　

scissors　flew　up；　and　nearly　put　his　eye　out。　　While　they　were　dressing　

their　wounds；　I　tried　to　make　a　hole　in　the　thing　with　the　spiky　end　of　

the　hitcher；　and　the　hitcher　slipped　and　jerked　me　out　between　the　boat　

and　the　bank　into　two　feet　of　muddy　water；　and　the　tin　rolled　over；　

uninjured；　and　broke　a　teacup。



Then　we　all　got　mad。　　We　took　that　tin　out　on　the　bank；　and　Harris　went　

up　into　a　field　and　got　a　big　sharp　stone；　and　I　went　back　into　the　boat　

and　brought　out　the　mast；　and　George　held　the　tin　and　Harris　held　the　

sharp　end　of　his　stone　against　the　top　of　it；　and　I　took　the　mast　and　

poised　it　high　up　in　the　air；　and　gathered　up　all　my　strength　and　brought　

it　down。



It　was　George's　straw　hat　that　saved　his　life　that　day。　　He　keeps　that　

hat　now　（what　is　left　of　it）；　and；　of　a　winter's　evening；　when　the　pipes　

are　lit　and　the　boys　are　telling　stretchers　about　the　dangers　they　have　

passed　through；　George　brings　it　down　and　shows　it　round；　and　the　

stirring　tale　is　told　anew；　with　fresh　exaggerations　every　time。



Harris　got　off　with　merely　a　flesh　wound。



After　that；　I　took　the　tin　off　myself；　and　hammered　at　it　with　the　mast　

till　I　was　worn　out　and　sick　at　heart；　whereupon　Harris　took　it　in　hand。



We　beat　it　out　flat；　we　beat　it　back　square；　we　battered　it　into　every　

form　known　to　geometry　…　but　we　could　not　make　a　hole　in　it。　　Then　George　

went　at　it；　and　knocked　it　into　a　shape；　so　strange；　so　weird；　so　

unearthly　in　its　wild　hideousness；　that　he　got　frightened　and　threw　away　

the　mast。　　Then　we　all　three　sat　round　it　on　the　grass　and　looked　at　it。



There　was　one　great　dent　across　the　top　that　had　the　appearance　of　a　

mocking　grin；　and　it　drove　us　furious；　so　that　Harris　rushed　at　the　

thing；　and　caught　it　up；　and　flung　it　far　into　the　middle　of　the　river；　

and　as　it　sank　we　hurled　our　curses　at　it；　and　we　got　into　the　boat　and　

rowed　away　from　the　spot；　and　never　paused　till　we　reached　Maidenhead。



Maidenhead　itself　is　too　snobby　to　be　pleasant。　　It　is　the　haunt　of　the　

river　swell　and　his　overdressed　female　companion。　　It　is　the　town　of　

showy　hotels；　patronised　chiefly　by　dudes　and　ballet　girls。　　It　is　the　

witch's　kitchen　from　which　go　forth　those　demons　of　the　river　…　steam…

launches。　　The　LONDON　JOURNAL　duke　always　has　his　〃little　place〃　at　

Maidenhead；　and　the　heroine　of　the　three…volume　novel　always　dines　there　

when　she　goes　out　on　the　spree　with　somebody　else's　husband。



We　went　through　Maidenhead　quickly；　and　then　eased　up；　and　took　leisurely　

that　grand　reach　beyond　Boulter's　and　Cookham　locks。　　Clieveden　Woods　

still　wore　their　dainty　dress　of　spring；　and　rose　up；　from　the　water's　

edge；　in　one　long　harmony　of　blended　shades　of　fairy　green。　　In　its　

unbroken　loveliness　this　is；　perhaps；　the　sweetest　stretch　of　all　the　

river；　and　lingeringly　we　slowly　drew　our　little　boat　away　from　its　deep　

peace。



We　pulled　up　in　the　backwater；　just　below　Cookham；　and　had　tea；　and；　when　

we　were　through　the　lock；　it　was　evening。　　A　stiffish　breeze　had　sprung　

up　…　in　our　favour；　for　a　wonder；　for；　as　a　rule　on　the　river；　the　wind　

is　always　dead　against　you　whatever　way　you　go。　　It　is　against　you　in　the　

morning；　when　you　start　for　a　day's　trip；　and　you　pull　a　long　distance；　

thinking　how　easy　it　will　be　to　come　back　with　the　sail。　　Then；　after　

tea；　the　wind　veers　round；　and　you　have　to　pull　hard　in　its　teeth　all　the　

way　home。



When　you　forget　to　take　the　sail　at　all；　then　the　wind　is　consistently　in　

your　favour　both　ways。　　But　there！　this　world　is　only　a　probation；　and　

man　was　born　to　trouble　as　the　sparks　fly　upward。



This　evening；　however；　they　had　evidently　made　a　mistake；　and　had　put　the　

wind　round　at　our　back　instead　of　in　our　face。　　We　kept　very　quiet　about　

it；　and　got　the　sail　up　quickly　before　they　found　it　out；　and　then　we　

spread　ourselves　about　the　boat　in　thoughtful　attitudes；　and　the　sail　

bellied　out；　and　strained；　and　grumbled　at　the　mast；　and　the　boat　flew。



I　steered。



There　is　no　more　thrilling　sensation　I　know　of　than　sailing。　　It　comes　as　

near　to　flying　as　man　has　got　to　yet　…　except　in　dreams。　　The　wings　of　

the　rushing　wind　seem　to　be　bearing　you　onward；　you　know　not　where。　　You　

are　no　longer　the　slow；　plodding；　puny　thing　of　clay；　creeping　tortuously　

upon　the　ground；　you　are　a　part　of　Nature！　　Your　heart　is　throbbing　

against　hers！　　Her　glorious　arms　are　round　you；　raising　you　up　against　

her　heart！　　Your　spirit　is　at　one　with　hers；　your　limbs　grow　light！　　The　

voices　of　the　air　are　singing　to　you。　　The　earth　seems　far　away　and　

little；　and　the　clouds；　so　close　above　your　head；　are　brothers；　and　you　

stretch　your　arms　to　them。



We　had　the　river　to　ourselves；　except　that；　far　in　the　distance；　we　could　

see　a　fishing…punt；　moored　in　mid…stream；　on　which　three　fishermen　sat；　

and　we　skimmed　over　the　water；　and　passed　the　wooded　banks；　and　no　one　

spoke。



I　was　steering。



As　we　drew　nearer；　we　could　see　that　the　three　men　fishing　seemed　old　and　

solemn…looking　men。　　They　sat　on　three　chairs　in　the　punt；　and　watched　

intently　their　lines。　　And　the　red　sunset　threw　a　mystic　light　upon　the　

waters；　and　tinged　with　fire　the　towering　woods；　and　made　a　golden　glory　

of　the　piled…up　clouds。　　It　was　an　hour　of　deep　enchantment；　of　ecstatic　

hope　and　longing。　　The　little　sail　stood　out　against　the　purple　sky；　the　

gloaming　lay　around　us；　wrapping　the　world　in　rainbow　shadows；　and；　

behind　us；　crept　the　night。



We　seemed　like　knights　of　some　old　legend；　sailing　across　some　mystic　

lake　into　the　unknown　realm　of　twilight；　unto　the　great　land　of　the　

sunset。



We　did　not　go　into　the　realm　of　twilight；　we　went　slap　into　that　punt；　

where　those　three　old　men　were　fishing。　　We　did　not　know　what　had　

happened　at　first；　because　the　sail　shut　out　the　view；　but　from　the　

nature　of　the　language　that　rose　up　upon　the　evening　air；　we　gathered　

that　we　had　come　into　the　neighbourhood　of　human　beings；　and　that　they　

were　vexed　and　discontented。



Harris　let　the　sail　down；　and　then　we　saw　what　had　happened。　　We　had　

knocked　those　three　old　gentlemen　off　their　chairs　into　a　general　heap　at　

the　bottom　of　the　boat；　and　they　were　now　slowly　and　painfully　sorting　

themselves　out　from　each　other；　and　picking　fish　off　themselves；　and　as　

they　worked；　they　cursed　us　…　not　with　a　common　cursory　curse；　but　with　

long；　carefully…thought…out；　comprehensive　curses；　that　embraced　the　

whole　of　our　career；　and　went　away　into　the　distant　future；　and　included　

all　our　relations；　and　covered　everything　connected　with　us　…　good；　

substantial　curses。



Harris　told　them　they　ought　to　be　grateful　for　a　little　excitement；　

sitting　there　fishing　all　day；　and　he　also　said　that　he　was　shocked　and　

grieved　to　hear　men　their　age　give　way　to　temper　so。



But　it　did　not　do　any　good。



George　said　he　would　steer；　after　that。　　He　said　a　mind　like　mine　ought　

not　to　be　expected　to　give　itself　away　in　steering　boats　…　better　let　a　

mere　commonplace　human　being　see　after　that　boat；　before　we　jolly　well　

all　got　drowned；　and　he　took　the　lines；　and　brought　us　up　to　Marlow。



And　at　Marlow　we　left　the　boat　by　the　bridge；　and　went　and　put　up　for　the　

night　at　the　〃Crown。〃









CHAPTER　XIII。





MARLOW。　…　BISHAM　ABBEY。　…　THE　MEDMENHAM　MONKS。　…　MONTMORENCY　THINKS　HE　

WILL　MURDER　AN　OLD　TOM　CAT。　…　BUT　EVENTUALLY　DECIDES　THAT　HE　WILL　LET　IT　

LIVE。　…　SHAMEFUL　CONDUCT　OF　A　FOX　TERRIER　AT　THE　CIVIL　SERVICE　STORES。　…　

OUR　DEPARTURE　FROM　MARLOW。　…　AN　IMPOSING　PROCESSION。　…　THE　STEAM　LAUNCH；　

USEFUL　RECEIPTS　FOR　ANNOYING　AND　HINDERING　IT。　…　WE　DECLINE　TO　DRINK　THE　

RIVER。　…　A　PEACEFUL　DOG。　…　STRANGE　DISAPPEARANCE　OF　HARRIS　AND　A　PIE。



MARLOW　is　one　of　the　pleasantest　river　centres　I　know　of。　　It　is　a　

bustling；　lively　little　town；　not　very　picturesque　on　the　whole；　it　is　

true；　but　there　are　many　quaint　nooks　and　corners　to　be　found　in　it；　

nevertheless　…　standing　arches　in　the　shattered　bridge　of　Time；　over　

which　our　fancy　travels　back　to　the　days　when　Marlow　Manor　owned　Saxon　

Algar　for　its　lord；　ere　conquering　William　seized　it　to　give　to　Queen　

Matilda；　ere　it　passed　to　the　Earls　of　Warwick　or　to　worldly…wise　Lord　

Paget；　the　councillor　of　four　successive　sovereigns。



There　is　lovely　country　round　about　it；　too；　if；　after　boating；　you　are　

fond　of　a　walk；　while　the　river　itself　is　at　its　best　here。　　Down　to　

Cookham；　past　the　Quarry　Woods　and　the　meadows；　is　a　lovely　reach。　　Dear　

old　Quarry　Woods！　with　your　narrow；　climbing　paths；　and　little　winding　

glades；　how　scented　to　this　hour　you　seem　with　memories　of　sunny　summer　

days！　　How　haunted　are　your　shadowy　vistas　with　the　ghosts　of　laughing　

faces！　how　from　your　whispering　leaves　there　softly　fall　the　voices　of　

long　ago！



From　Marlow　up　to　Sonning　is　even　fairer　yet。　　Grand　old　Bisham　Abbey；　

whose　stone　walls　have　rung　to　the　shouts　of　the　Knights　Templars；　and　

which；　at　one　time；　was　the　home　of　Anne　of　Cleves　and　at　another　of　

Queen　Elizabeth；　is　passed　on　the　right　bank　just　half　a　mile　above　

Marlow　Bridge。　　Bisham　Abbey　is　rich　in　melodramatic　properties。　　It　

contains　a　tapestry　bed…chamber；　and　a　secret　room　hid　high　up　in　the　

thick　walls。　　The　ghost　of　the　Lady　Holy；　who　beat　her　little　boy　to　

death；　still　walks　there　at　night；　trying　to　wash　its　ghostly