哈克贝里.芬历险记(The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)三十八
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MAKING them pens was a distressid tough job, and so was the saw; and Jim allowed the inscription was going to be the toughest of all. That's the one which the prisoner has to scrabble on the wall. But he had to have it; Tom said he'd GOT to; there warn't no case of a state prisoner not scrabbling his inscription to leave behind, and his coat of arms. "Look at Lady Jane Grey," he says; "look at Gilford Dudley; look at old Northumberland! Why, Huck, s'pose it IS considerble trouble? -- what you going to do? -- how you going to get around it? Jim's GOT to do his inscription and coat of arms. They all do." Jim says: "Why, Mars Tom, I hain't got no coat o' arm; I hain't got nuffn but dish yer ole shirt, en you knows I got to keep de journal on dat." "Oh, you don't understand, Jim; a coat of arms is very different." "Well," I says, "Jim's right, anyway, when he says he ain't got no coat of arms, because he hain't." "I reckon I knowed that," Tom says, "but you bet he'll have one before he goes out of this -- because he's going out RIGHT, and there ain't going to be no flaws in his record." So whilst me and Jim filed away at the pens on a brickbat apiece, Jim a-making his'n out of the brass and I making mine out of the spoon, Tom set to work to think out the coat of arms. By and by he said he'd struck so many good ones he didn't hardly know which to take, but there was one which he reckoned he'd decide on. He says: "On the scutcheon we'll have a bend OR in the dexter base, a saltire MURREY in the fess, with a dog, couchant, for common charge, and under his foot a chain embattled, for slavery, with a chevron VERT in a chief engrailed, and three invected lines on a field AZURE, with the nombril points rampant on a dancette indented; crest, a runaway nigger, SABLE, with his bundle over his shoulder on a bar sinister; and a couple of gules for supporters, which is you and me; motto, MAGGIORE FRETTA, MINORE OTTO. Got it out of a book -- means the more haste the less speed." "Geewhillikins," I says, "but what does the rest of it mean?" "We ain't got no time to bother over that," he says; "we got to dig in like all git-out." "Well, anyway," I says, "what's SOME of it? What's a fess?" "A fess -- a fess is -- YOU don't need to know what a fess is. I'll show him how to make it when he gets to it." "Shucks, Tom," I says, "I think you might tell a person. What's a bar sinister?" "Oh, I don't know. But he's got to have it. All the nobility does." That was just his way. If it didn't suit him to explain a thing to you, he wouldn't do it. You might pump at him a week, it wouldn't make no difference. He'd got all that coat of arms business fixed, so now he started in to finish up the rest of that part of the work, which was to plan out a mournful inscription -- said Jim got to have one, like they all done. He made up a lot, and wrote them out on a paper, and read them off, so: 1. Here a captive heart busted. 2. Here a poor prisoner, forsook by the world and friends, fretted his sorrowful life. 3. Here a lonely heart broke, and a worn spirit went to its rest, after thirty-seven years of solitary captivity. 4. Here, homeless and friendless, after thirty-seven years of bitter captivity, perished a noble stranger, natural son of Louis XIV. Tom's voice trembled whilst he was reading them, and he most broke down. When he got done he couldn't no way make up his mind which one for Jim to scrabble on to the wall, they was all so good; but at last he allowed he would let him scrabble them all on. Jim said it would take him a year to scrabble such a lot of truck on to the logs with a nail, and he didn't know how to make letters, besides; but Tom said he would block them out for him, and then he wouldn't have nothing to do but just follow the lines. Then pretty soon he says: "Come to think, the logs ain't a-going to do; they don't have log walls in a dungeon: we got to dig the inscriptions into a rock. We'll fetch a rock." Jim said the rock was worse than the logs; he said it would take him such a pison long time to dig them into a rock he wouldn't ever get out. But Tom said he would let me help him do it. Then he took a look to see how me and Jim was getting along with the pens. It was most pesky tedious hard work and slow, and didn't give my hands no show to get well of the sores, and we didn't seem to make no headway, hardly; so Tom says: "I know how to fix it. We got to have a rock for the coat of arms and mournful inscriptions, and we can kill two birds with that same rock. There's a gaudy big grindstone down at the mill, and we'll smouch it, and carve the things on it, and file out the pens and the saw on it, too." It warn't no slouch of an idea; and it warn't no slouch of a grindstone nuther; but we allowed we'd tackle it. It warn't quite midnight yet, so we cleared out for the mill, leaving Jim at work. We smouched the grindstone, and set out to roll her home, but it was a most nation tough job. Sometimes, do what we could, we couldn't keep her from falling over, and she come mighty near mashing us every time. Tom said she was going to get one of us, sure, before we got through. We got her half way; and then we was plumb played out, and most drownded with sweat. We see it warn't no use; we got to go and fetch Jim So he raised up his bed and slid the chain off of the bed-leg, and wrapt it round and round his neck, and we crawled out through our hole and down there, and Jim and me laid into that grindstone and walked her along like nothing; and Tom superintended. He could out-superintend any boy I ever see. He knowed how to do everything. Our hole was pretty big, but it warn't big enough to get the grindstone through; but Jim he took the pick and soon made it big enough. Then Tom marked out them things on it with the nail, and set Jim to work on them, with the nail for a chisel and an iron bolt from the rubbage in the lean-to for a hammer, and told him to work till the rest of his candle quit on him, and then he could go to bed, and hide the grindstone under his straw tick and sleep on it. Then we helped him fix his chain back on the bed-leg, and was ready for bed ourselves. But Tom thought of something, and says: "You got any spiders in here, Jim?" "No, sah, thanks to goodness I hain't, Mars Tom." "All right, we'll get you some." "But bless you, honey, I doan' WANT none. I's afeard un um. I jis' 's soon have rattlesnakes aroun'." Tom thought a minute or two, and says: "It's a good idea. And I reckon it's been done. It MUST a been done; it stands to reason. Yes, it's a prime good idea. Where could you keep it?" "Keep what, Mars Tom?" "Why, a rattlesnake." "De goodness gracious alive, Mars Tom! Why, if dey was a rattlesnake to come in heah I'd take en bust right out thoo dat log wall, I would, wid my head." Why, Jim, you wouldn't be afraid of it after a little. You could tame it." "TAME it!" "Yes -- easy enough. Every animal is grateful for kindness and petting, and they wouldn't THINK of hurting a person that pets them. Any book will tell you that. You try -- that's all I ask; just try for two or three days. Why, you can get him so in a little while that he'll love you; and sleep with you; and won't stay away from you a minute; and will let you wrap him round your neck and put his head in your mouth." "PLEASE, Mars Tom -- DOAN' talk so! I can't STAN' it! He'd LET me shove his head in my mouf -- fer a favor, hain't it? I lay he'd wait a pow'ful long time 'fo' I AST him. En mo' en dat, I doan' WANT him to sleep wid me." "Jim, don't act so foolish. A prisoner's GOT to have some kind of a dumb pet, and if a rattlesnake hain't ever been tried, why, there's more glory to be gained in your being the first to ever try it than any other way you could ever think of to save your life." "Why, Mars Tom, I doan' WANT no sich glory. Snake take 'n bite Jim's chin off, den WHAH is de glory? No, sah, I doan' want no sich doin's." "Blame it, can't you TRY? I only WANT you to try -- you needn't keep it up if it don't work." "But de trouble all DONE ef de snake bite me while I's a tryin' him. Mars Tom, I's willin' to tackle mos' anything 'at ain't onreasonable, but ef you en Huck fetches a rattlesnake in heah for me to tame, I's gwyne to LEAVE, dat's SHORE." "Well, then, let it go, let it go, if you're so bullheaded about it. We can get you some garter-snakes, and you can tie some buttons on their tails, and let on they're rattlesnakes, and I reckon that 'll have to do." "I k'n stan' DEM, Mars Tom, but blame' 'f I couldn' get along widout um, I tell you dat. I never knowed b'fo' 't was so much bother and trouble to be a prisoner." "Well, it ALWAYS is when it's done right. You got any rats around here?" "No, sah, I hain't seed none." "Well, we'll get you some rats." "Why, Mars Tom, I doan' WANT no rats. Dey's de dadblamedest creturs to 'sturb a body, en rustle roun' over 'im, en bite his feet, when he's tryin' to sleep, I ever see. No, sah, gimme g'yarter-snakes, 'f I's got to have 'm, but doan' gimme no rats; I hain' got no use f'r um, skasely." "But, Jim, you GOT to have 'em -- they all do. So don't make no more fuss about it. Prisoners ain't ever without rats. There ain't no instance of it. And they train them, and pet them, and learn them tricks, and they get to be as sociable as flies. But you got to play music to them. You got anything to play music on?" "I ain' got nuffn but a coase comb en a piece o' paper, en a juice-harp; but I reck'n dey wouldn' take no stock in a juice-harp." "Yes they would. THEY don't care what kind of music 'tis. A jews-harp's plenty good enough for a rat. All animals like music -- in a prison they dote on it. Specially, painful music; and you can't get no other kind out of a jews-harp. It always interests them; they come out to see what's the matter with you. Yes, you're all right; you're fixed very well. You want to set on your bed nights before you go to sleep, and early in the mornings, and play your jewsharp; play 'The Last Link is Broken' -- that's the thing that 'll scoop a rat quicker 'n anything else; and when you've played about two minutes you'll see all the rats, and the snakes, and spiders, and things begin to feel worried about you, and come. And they'll just fairly swarm over you, and have a noble good time." "Yes, DEY will, I reck'n, Mars Tom, but what kine er time is JIM havin'? Blest if I kin see de pint. But I'll do it ef I got to. I reck'n I better keep de animals satisfied, en not have no trouble in de house." Tom waited to think it over, and see if there wasn't nothing else; and pretty soon he says: "Oh, there's one thing I forgot. Could you raise a flower here, do you reckon?" "I doan know but maybe I could, Mars Tom; but it's tolable dark in heah, en I ain' got no use f'r no flower, nohow, en she'd be a pow'ful sight o' trouble." "Well, you try it, anyway. Some other prisoners has done it." "One er dem big cat-tail-lookin' mullen-stalks would grow in heah, Mars Tom, I reck'n, but she wouldn't be wuth half de trouble she'd coss." "Don't you believe it. We'll fetch you a little one and you plant it in the corner over there, and raise it. And don't call it mullen, call it Pitchiola -- that's its right name when it's in a prison. And you want to water it with your tears." "Why, I got plenty spring water, Mars Tom." "You don't WANT spring water; you want to water it with your tears. It's the way they always do." "Why, Mars Tom, I lay I kin raise one er dem mullen-stalks twyste wid spring water whiles another man's a START'N one wid tears." "That ain't the idea. You GOT to do it with tears." "She'll die on my han's, Mars Tom, she sholy will; kase I doan' skasely ever cry." So Tom was stumped. But he studied it over, and then said Jim would have to worry along the best he could with an onion. He promised he would go to the nigger cabins and drop one, private, in Jim's coffeepot, in the morning. Jim said he would "jis' 's soon have tobacker in his coffee;" and found so much fault with it, and with the work and bother of raising the mullen, and jews-harping the rats, and petting and flattering up the snakes and spiders and things, on top of all the other work he had to do on pens, and inscriptions, and journals, and things, which made it more trouble and worry and responsibility to be a prisoner than anything he ever undertook, that Tom most lost all patience with him; and said he was just loadened down with more gaudier chances than a prisoner ever had in the world to make a name for himself, and yet he didn't know enough to appreciate them, and they was just about wasted on him. So Jim he was sorry, and said he wouldn't behave so no more, and then me and Tom shoved for bed. 做笔可是苦不堪言的活儿。做锯子也一样。杰姆说，刻字的活儿，那就是苦上加苦了。 ①诺顿版注：一般盾形纹章分为上部、中横带和底部。汤姆的设计更复杂些，有许多横线，六种颜色，又有狗和黑奴。 “我的老天爷，”我说，“那么其余的又是什么意思呢？”“我们现在顾不上这个，”他说，“别人越狱，都得拼命地干，我们也得拼命地干。”“那好吧，”我说，“你多少得说一些嘛。中带是什么？”“中带是——中带是——你不必知道中带是什么。等到他画的时候，我会教给他的。”“去你的，汤姆，”我说，“我看你讲一讲也可以嘛。什么是左横①带啊？”①黑恩详注本注：左横带在贵族纹章中暗指有私生子女。“所有的贵族都有”，是作者对贵族的讥刺。 “哦，我也不知道。反正他非有不可。凡是贵族都有嘛。”汤姆就是这么个章法。要是他认为不必向你解释一件事情的原委，那他就怎么也不会解释。你哪怕钉着他问上一个星期也没有用。他已经把纹章的事都定下了，所以如今便开始要把其余的事干完。那就是设计好一句伤感的题词——他说，杰姆非得留下一句，人家全都如此嘛。他定下了不少的留言，都写在一张纸上。他逐个念道：１．一颗被幽囚的心在这里破碎了。２．一个不幸的囚犯，遭到了人世和朋友们的背弃，熬过了他悲苦的一生。３．这里是一颗孤单的心破碎了，一颗困乏的心终于得到了安息，在三十七个年头单身囚禁以后。４．在这里，一个无家室、无亲友的高贵的陌生人，经过三十七年辛酸的幽囚终于死去了。他原本是路易十四的私生子。①①黑恩详注本注：一说，大仲马笔下的铁面人是路易十四的私丝子。 汤姆在念的时候，声音在颤抖。差点儿要哭起来。他念过以后，?杰姆刻在墙上。每句都好得很嘛。杰姆说，要他用一根钉子把这么多的玩意儿刻在圆木上，得用一年的工夫才行。再说他又并不会写字母啊。汤姆说，他可以替他画个底子，杰姆不用干别的，只消照着描画就是了。随后他接着说：“想起来，这木头可不行。地牢里不会有木头的墙嘛。我们得刻在石头上才行。我们得弄一块石头来。”杰姆说石头比木头更糟。他说在石头上刻字要用很长的时间才行，那他就不用想出去啦。不过汤姆说，他会叫我帮他把这事做好的。随后他看了一下我和杰姆磨笔磨得怎样了。这实在是又累又苦又慢的活儿，我的两只手，泡一直没有消过，看情况，简直难有什么进展。所以汤姆说：“好，我有办法了。为了刻纹章和刻伤感的遗言，我们得弄一块石头来，这样，我们可以利用这块石头来个一举两得。锯木厂那儿有一块又大又棒的磨刀石，我们可以去把它偷来，在上面刻东西，另一方面又可以在上面磨笔和锯子。”这个主意不能说是糟主意，只是要搬动磨刀石，那可是够糟的了。但是我们还是决定要干。天还没有到午夜，我们就出发往锯木厂去，留下杰姆干他那份活儿。我们偷出磨刀石，开始住家滚，可是这活儿多艰难啊，有的时候，尽管我们使出了全身的劲，还是阻止不住磨刀石往后滚，差点儿把我们给压扁了。汤姆说，在推到家以前，我们两人中，看来有一个准定会吃它的亏哩。我们滚了一半的路，就筋疲力竭，出的汗简直能把我们淹死。我们眼看不行了，便去把杰姆给找来。他就把床一提，从床脚下脱出了脚镣，把脚镣一圈又一圈地套在脖子上。随后我们从洞口爬了出来，到了下面。杰姆和我把磨刀石一推，毫不费力，就叫它滚动着往前①。汤姆呢，他在场督导。他督导起来，就我所知，能胜过任何一个孩子。不论什么事，都能十分来得。①诺顿版注：在这些结尾的几章中，一再进行的恶作剧，看来是对杰姆的一种残酷的行为。另一方面，诚如前面所提到的，这些也是在彼此相知的孩子们中间干的滑稽可笑的事，有人如果要躲掉，也是不难做到的。作者在这里用的是喜剧性的夸张笔法，这在当时边疆地区也是习以为常的。不过在这里也表现了作者对人性理解得非常透彻。 我们挖的洞，本来已经够大的了。不过要把磨刀石给滚进去，就不够大了。杰姆举起了铲子挖起来，一会儿就挖大了，能容磨刀石滚过。随后汤姆用钉子把那些东西画在磨刀石上，让杰姆照着干起来，用钉子当钻凿，用从披间废料堆里捡到的一只铁螺栓当鎯头刻。还叮嘱他干到蜡烛熄灭为止，就可以上床睡了，临了得把磨刀石藏在床垫下面，人就睡在上面。随后我们帮着把杰姆的脚镣放回床腿上。我们自己也准备睡觉去了。不过汤姆又动起了什么念头。他说：“你这里有蜘蛛么，杰姆？”“没有，汤姆少爷，我这尔（儿）没有，谢天谢地。”“那好，我们给你弄一些来。”“多谢你啦，老弟，我可是一个也不要。我拍（怕）蜘蛛。我还不如要响尾蛇，也不要蜘蛛。”汤姆想了一两分钟，随后说：“这是个好主意。依我看，人家也干过的，必须干过，因为这符合理性。是啊，这是个出色的主意。你养在哪里呢？”“养什么啊，汤姆少爷？”“怎么啦，一条响尾蛇啊。”“天啊，汤姆少爷。要是这里来了一条响尾蛇，我就立刻把脑袋往圆木墙上撞去，我会这么干的。”“啊，杰姆，隔不多久，你就不会害怕它了。你能驯服它嘛。”“驯服它！”“是啊——容易得很嘛。动物嘛，只要对它和善，对它亲热，它总是感恩的。凡是对它亲热的，它是不会想到要加害于他的。任何一本书上都会把这层道理告诉你的。你不妨试一试——我要求你的，不过如此而已。只要试它个两三天就行了。啊，不用多久，你就能养熟了，它就会爱上你了，就会跟你一起睡了，会一时一刻也离不得你了，会让你把它在你脖上围成一圈又一圈，还能把它的脑袋伸进你的嘴巴里哩。”“求求你，汤姆少爷——别这么说！我可收（受）不了啊。它会让我把它的头塞进我的嘴巴里——作为对我的情意，是么？我敢说，它就是等上一辈子，我也不会这么请它。再说，我根本不愿意它跟我睡啊。”“杰姆，别这么傻嘛。一个囚犯嘛，就得有个不会说话的心爱的宠物。要是说过去还没有人养过响尾蛇，那你就是破天荒第一个，能在其它的方法以外，用这样的方法搭救自己的人，那就更加光荣啦。”“啊，汤姆少爷，我可不要这样的光用（荣）啊。蛇一进来，就会把杰姆的下巴给咬掉，那还说什么光用（荣）？不，我不愿意这么干。”“真该死，你试一试不行么？我只是要你试一试嘛——要是试得不灵，你就不用养下去嘛。”“不过嘛，我刚一试养它的当儿，蛇就咬我一口，那我不就遭养（殃）了么？汤姆少爷，不论什么事，只要不是不合情理的，全都愿干。不过，如果你和哈克把一条响尾蛇弄到这里来，我便利克（离开）这里，这是一定的。”“那好吧，那就算了吧，那就算了吧，要是你这么死心眼儿的话。我们可以给你弄几条花蛇来，你可以在蛇尾巴上绑上几个扣子，只当是响尾蛇，我看这该行了吧。”“这样的蛇我深受得了，汤姆少爷。不过我跟你说，要是说没有这些玩意儿，我就会活不下去的话，那才是怪事一桩呢。做一个囚犯，麻烦事、灾祸事可真不少啊。”“嗯，按照规矩，总是如此这般的嘛。你这里有耗子么？”“没有。我没有见到过一只耗子。”“好吧，我们给你弄几只耗子来。”“怎么啦，汤姆少爷，我根本不需要耗子啊。这些东西最讨厌。你想睡觉，它就在你身边转来转去，咬你的脚，我见到的都是这样。不，要是非有不可的话，我宁要花蛇，也不要耗子。耗子对我一点儿涌（用）处也没有。”“不过杰姆，你总得有耗子啊——人家都有嘛。凡是囚犯，没有耗子，那是没有的。过去没有这样的先例。人家就驯养耗子，对耗子亲亲热热的，教耗子各种各样的把戏。耗子变得象苍蝇那样随和。不过你需得为它们奏起音乐来。你有什么乐器能奏乐么？”“我什么都没有，只有一只粗木梳子，一张纸和一只口拨近（琴）①。不过依我看，这口拨近（琴）嘛，它们是看不中的啰。”①一种简单的乐器，奏时用嘴咬住琴身，用手指弹拨铁簧发声。 “不，它们会看中的。它们并不在乎是哪一种的音乐。对一只耗子来?错了。凡是动物，都是爱好音乐的——在牢房里，它们爱音乐爱得入了迷。尤其爱悲怆的音乐，而口拨琴呢，除了这个，别的音乐它也奏不出来。耗子对这个兴趣挺大，它们便喜欢出来看一看你究竟是怎么了。是啊，你是一切好好的啦，你给一切安排得妥妥贴贴的嘛。在夜晚，你想要上床去了。而在你睡以前，以及一清早，你想玩玩你的口拨琴。奏一曲《最后一个连环断了》——这曲子挺能打动耗子的心，比什么都奏效更快。你只消奏它个两分钟左右，你就会见到耗子啦、蛇啦、蜘蛛啦、还有其它等等的，都会开始为你发起愁来，会走拢来。它们简直全都围拢着你，快快活活地玩上一阵子。”“是的，汤姆少爷，我看它们是会这样的。不过，杰姆怎么样呢？我要是能懂得其中的笃里（道理）才怪呢。不过如果必要的话，我会干的。依我看，我得设法叫这些动物开开新新（心心）的免得在屋子里惹事生非。”汤姆等了一下，想了一下，看有没有什么别的事要解决。没多久，他便说：“哦——有一件事我可忘了。你能不能在这里种一株花，你看呢？”“我不知道，不过也许能吧，汤姆少爷。不过这尔（儿）挺黑的。再说，我养花也没有什么用，见了叫人家刺眼，会惹出麻饭（烦）来。”“嗯，反正你不妨试一下嘛。别的囚犯也有种过的嘛。”“有一种象猫尾巴的大毛蕊花，我看在这尔（儿）大概忽（活）得了，汤姆少爷。不过养起来，得化（花）很大力气，怕花（划）不来。”“别信这一套。我们会给你弄一株小的。你就栽在那边角落里，把它养起来。也别叫它毛蕊花，就叫它毕巧拉就行了——这是在牢房里叫的名字①。并且你得用眼泪来灌溉它。”①诺顿版注：博尼法斯的《毕巧拉》（１８３６）中即写一个贵族囚徒在狱中养花。藉此得以维持生命。 “怎么啦，我有的是丰富的泉水嘛，汤姆少爷？”“你用你的眼泪浇花的时候，泉水就用不上啦。人家都是这样的一个路子嘛。”“啊，汤姆少爷，别的人里眼泪浇毛蕊花，我却能用泉水浇，还能长得比他快一贝（倍）呢。”“这个路子不对。你得用眼泪浇嘛。”“花就会撕（死）在我手里，汤姆少爷，必撕（死）无疑，因为我从来难得哭上一回。”这一下子可把汤姆给难倒啦。不过他考虑了一下，随后说，杰姆只好用一只洋葱头来对付着挤出眼泪来。他答应要到黑奴的房间里去，在早上偷偷把一只洋葱头放到杰姆的咖啡壶里。杰姆说他宁愿在他咖啡壶里放点儿烟叶子的。随后他牢骚一大串，说又要栽毛蕊花，又要给耗子奏口拨琴，又要对蛇、蜘蛛之类献殷勤。并且作为囚徒，论麻烦、论烦恼、论责任，难上加难的，而在这些活儿以外，还得磨笔、题词、写日记、如此等等，没有料想到做囚徒须得干这么多事。这么一说，汤姆可火了，对他失去了耐性。他说，杰姆空有这么好的机会，能比世上任何一个囚徒扬名天下，却不知好歹，眼看这些好机会正在他手里给白白错过了。于是杰姆急忙赔不是，说他要从此改正。我和汤姆便回屋睡觉去了。 |
