barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第66章
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which he swigged such copious draughts； that most of his faculties
were utterly drowned and washed away； except the one great
faculty of sleep； which he retained in surprising perfection。 The
creaking Lion over the house…door was； therefore； to say the truth；
rather a drowsy； tame； and feeble lion； and as these social
representatives of a savage class are usually of a conventional
character （being depicted； for the most part； in impossible
attitudes and of unearthly colours）； he was frequently supposed by
the more ignorant and uninformed among the neighbours； to be
the veritable portrait of the host as he appeared on the occasion of
some great funeral ceremony or public mourning。
‘What noisy fellow is that in the next room？’ said Joe； when he
had disposed of his breakfast； and had washed and brushed
himself。
‘A recruiting serjeant；’ replied the Lion。
Joe started involuntarily。 Here was the very thing he had been
dreaming of； all the way along。
‘And I wish；’ said the Lion； ‘he was anywhere else but here。 The
party make noise enough； but don’t call for much。 There’s great
cry there； Mr Willet； but very little wool。 Your father wouldn’t like
’em； I know。’
Perhaps not much under any circumstances。 Perhaps if he
could have known what was passing at that moment in Joe’s mind；
he would have liked them still less。
‘Is he recruiting for a—for a fine regiment？’ said Joe； glancing
at a little round mirror that hung in the bar。
‘I believe he is；’ replied the host。 ‘It’s much the same thing；
whatever regiment he’s recruiting for。 I’m told there an’t a deal of
difference between a fine man and another one； when they’re shot
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through and through。’
‘They’re not all shot；’ said Joe。
‘No；’ the Lion answered； ‘not all。 Those that are—supposing it’s
done easy—are the best off in my opinion。’
‘Ah！’ retorted Joe； ‘but you don’t care for glory。’
‘For what？’ said the Lion。
‘Glory。’
‘No；’ returned the Lion； with supreme indifference。 ‘I don’t。
You’re right in that； Mr Willet。 When Glory comes here； and calls
for anything to drink and changes a guinea to pay for it； I’ll give it
him for nothing。 It’s my belief； sir； that the Glory’s arms wouldn’t
do a very strong business。’
These remarks were not at all comforting。 Joe walked out；
stopped at the door of the next room； and listened。 The serjeant
was describing a military life。 It was all drinking； he said； except
that there were frequent intervals of eating and love…making。 A
battle was the finest thing in the world—when your side won it—
and Englishmen always did that。 ‘Supposing you should be killed；
sir？’ said a timid voice in one corner。 ‘Well； sir； supposing you
should be；’ said the serjeant； ‘what then？ Your country loves you；
sir； his Majesty King George the Third loves you； your memory is
honoured； revered； respected； everybody’s fond of you； and
grateful to you； your name’s wrote down at full length in a book in
the War Office。 Damme； gentlemen； we must all die some time； or
another； eh？’
The voice coughed； and said no more。
Joe walked into the room。 A group of half…a…dozen fellows had
gathered together in the taproom； and were listening with greedy
ears。 One of them； a carter in a smock frock； seemed wavering and
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disposed to enlist。 The rest； who were by no means disposed；
strongly urged him to do so （according to the custom of mankind）；
backed the serjeant’s arguments； and grinned among themselves。
‘I say nothing； boys；’ said the serjeant； who sat a little apart；
drinking his liquor。 ‘For lads of spirit’—here he cast an eye on
Joe—‘this is the time。 I don’t want to inveigle you。 The king’s not
come to that； I hope。 Brisk young blood is what we want； not milk
and water。 We won’t take five men out of six。 We want top…
sawyers； we do。 I’m not a…going to tell tales out of school； but；
damme； if every gentleman’s son that carries arms in our corps；
through being under a cloud and having little differences with his
relations； was counted up’—here his eye fell on Joe again； and so
good…naturedly； that Joe beckoned him out。 He came directly。
‘You’re a gentleman； by G—！’ was his first remark； as he
slapped him on the back。 ‘You’re a gentleman in disguise。 So am I。
Let’s swear a friendship。’
Joe didn’t exactly do that； but he shook hands with him； and
thanked him for his good opinion。
‘You want to serve；’ said his new friend。 ‘You shall。 You were
made for it。 You’re one of us by nature。 What’ll you take to drink？’
‘Nothing just now；’ replied Joe； smiling faintly。 ‘I haven’t quite
made up my mind。’
‘A mettlesome fellow like you； and not made up his mind！’ cried
the serjeant。 ‘Here—let me give the bell a pull； and you’ll make up
your mind in half a minute； I know。’
‘You’re right so far’—answered Joe； ‘for if you pull the bell here；
where I’m known； there’ll be an end of my soldiering inclinations
in no time。 Look in my face。 You see me； do you？’
‘I do；’ replied the serjeant with an oath； ‘and a finer young
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fellow or one better qualified to serve his king and country； I never
set my—’ he used an adjective in this place—‘eyes on。’
‘Thank you；’ said Joe； ‘I didn’t ask you for want of a
compliment； but thank you all the same。 Do I look like a sneaking
fellow or a liar？’
The serjeant rejoined with many choice asseverations that he
didn’t； and that if his （the serjeant’s） own father were to say he did；
he would run the old gentleman through the body cheerfully； and
consider it a meritorious action。
Joe expressed his obligations； and continued； ‘You can trust me
then； and credit what I say。 I believe I shall enlist in your regiment
to…night。 The reason I don’t do so now is； because I don’t want
until to…night； to do what I can’t recall。 Where shall I find you； this
evening？’
His friend replied with some unwillingness； and after much
ineffectual entreaty having for its object the immediate settlement
of the business； that his quarters would be at the Crooked Billet in
Tower Street； where he would be found waking until midnight；
and sleeping until breakfast time to…morrow。
‘And if I do come—which it’s a million to one； I shall—when will
you take me out of London？’ demanded Joe。
‘To…morrow morning； at half after eight o’clock；’ replied the
serjeant。 ‘You’ll go abroad—a country where it’s all sunshine and
plunder—the finest climate in the world。’
‘To go abroad；’ said Joe； shaking hands with him； ‘is the very
thing I want。 You may expect me。’
‘You’re the kind of lad for us；’ cried the serjeant； holding Joe’s
hand in his； in the excess of his admiration。 ‘You’re the boy to
push your fortune。 I don’t say it because I bear you any envy； or
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would take away from the credit of the rise you’ll make； but if I
had been bred and taught like you； I’d have been a colonel by this
time。’
‘Tush； man！’ said Joe； ‘I’m not so young as that。 Needs must
when the devil drives； and the devil that drives me is an empty
pocket and an unhappy home。 For the present； good…bye。’
‘For king and country！’ cried the serjeant； flourishing his cap。
‘For bread and meat！’ cried Joe； snapping his fingers。 And so
they parted。
He had very little money in his pocket； so little indeed； that
after paying for his breakfast （which he was too honest and
perhaps too proud to score up to his father’s charge） he had but a
penny left。 He had courage； notwithstanding； to resist all the
affectionate importunities of the serjeant； who waylaid him at the
door with many protestations of eternal friendship； and did in
particular request that he would do him the favour to accept of
only one shilling as a temporary accommodation。 Rejecting his
offers both of cash and credit； Joe walked away with stick and
bundle as before； bent upon getting through the day as he best
could； and going down to the locksmith’s in the dusk of the
evening； for it should go hard； he had resolved； but he would have
a parting word with charming Dolly Varden。
He went out by Islington and so on to Highgate； and sat on
many stones and gates； but there were no voices in the bells to bid
him turn。 Since the time of noble Whittington； fair flower of
merchants； bells have come to have less sympathy with
humankind。 They only ring for money and on state occasions。
Wanderers have increased in number； ships leave the Thames for
distant regions； carrying from stem to stern no other cargo； the
