Chapter 26 man from glasgow

Shelley's first drive to Naples saw something catch his attention, a stroke of luck that doesn't come to every first-timer to a big city.A young man runs out of a shop and is chased by a man with a knife.The man caught up with the young man, raised his knife and stabbed him in the neck, and the young man fell to the road, dead.Shelley has a tender heart, and he thinks these kinds of things happen everywhere, but inside he still feels fear and anger.When he told his story to a priest from Calabria who was traveling with him, the priest laughed loudly and tried to make fun of him.Shelley said he had never had such a strong urge to hit someone.

I've never had that kind of irritating incident, but one that happened when I first went to Algeciras also seemed out of the ordinary.Algeciras was then a sprawling, abandoned town.When I arrived in the evening, it was getting late, so I went to an inn on the pier.The inn is rather run down, but has a wonderful view of the Strait of Gibraltar, where the sea runs as one - in fact, you can see the other side of the bay at a glance.It was a full moon.The office is on the second floor.When I asked for a room, a scruffy waitress took me upstairs.The landlord was playing cards and seemed displeased to see me.He raised his head and looked me up and down, said a room number casually, then left me alone and continued to play his own cards.

After the waitress took me to my room, I asked her if there was anything I could eat. "That depends on what you want to eat." She replied. Of course I know how false this apparent generosity is. "What's in the room?" "You can have some eggs and ham." The look of the hotel would have me guessing that it was almost impossible to have anything else to eat.The waiter took me to a small room.The room has whitewashed walls, a low ceiling, and a long table for the next day's lunch.A tall man sat with his back to the door, curled up against the brazier.The brazier is a round copper dish filled with hot wood ash - it is a mistake to think that a brazier is enough to keep you warm during the not too cold Andalusian winters.I sat down at the table and waited for the meager supper to be served.I glanced casually at the stranger, who was looking at me too, but as soon as he met my gaze, he looked away.I wait for my eggs to come.Finally, the waitress finally brought it, and the man looked up again.

"I hope you wake me up in time for the first passenger ship," he said. "Okay, sir." His accent tells me that English is his mother tongue, while his broad figure and prominent facial features remind me that he should be a northerner.In Spain, see more strong Scots than English.Whether you go to the wealthy Rio Tinto mining area, or to the winery of Jerez, or to Seville or Cadiz, all you hear is the slow accent from the other side of the Tweed River.In the olive groves of Carmona, on the railway between Algeciras and Bobadilla, and even in the remote cork forests of Mérida, you will find Scots everywhere.

After eating, I went to the brazier to warm up the fire.It was mid-winter, and the wind tunnels that formed along the bay made my blood run cold.I moved my chair forward and the man pulled his chair back. "Don't move," I said, "it's just two people, the place is big enough." I lit a cigarette and handed him one too.In Spain, Havana from Gibraltar has always been popular. "It's okay to smoke one." He said and stretched out his hand. I recognized his singing Glasgow accent.But the stranger was not talkative, and my efforts at conversation were in vain in front of his monosyllabic words.We then smoked in silence.He was taller than I had imagined, with broad shoulders, clumsy limbs, a tanned face, and short, grizzled hair.His features are thick, his mouth, ears and nose are large and fat, his skin is wrinkled, and his eyes are light blue.He was always pulling his shaggy gray beard with his hands.It's a tense gesture that makes me vaguely uncomfortable.After a while, I felt him looking at me.The way he stared at me in a daze made me gradually angry.I glanced at him, hoping to keep his head down like last time.Sure enough, he lowered for a while, but soon rose again.His gaze shot from under his long, bushy eyebrows, examining me.

"Just from Gibraltar?" he asked suddenly. "yes." "I'm leaving tomorrow--going home. Thank God." "You don't like Spain?" "Oh, Spain is good." "Have you been here long?" "Too long, too long." He gasped slightly as he spoke.I was surprised that a few casual questions seemed to touch his emotions.He stood up suddenly and paced back and forth.He walked back and forth like a caged animal, knocking chairs out of the way.He sighed, repeating the words "too long, too long" from time to time.I sat there quietly, feeling a little embarrassed.Trying to catch my breath, I stirred the brazier to turn up the hotter ash.He stopped suddenly and bent over me, as if my movement made him aware of my presence.Then he sat back heavily in the chair.

"Do you think I'm weird?" he asked. "It's less strange than most people." I smiled. "Don't you see something strange about me?" As he spoke, he leaned forward so that I could see better. "can not tell." "Just tell me when you see it, okay?" "I will." I didn't quite understand what he meant, and wondered if he was drunk.For the next two or three minutes, he didn't say anything, and I didn't want to break the silence. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly.I told him. "My name is Robert Morrison."

"Scot?" "Glasgow. I've been in the damned country for years. Any smoke?" I handed him my pouch, and he filled the pipe, and lit it with a burning coal. "I can't stay any longer. I've stayed too long, too long." He wanted to jump up impulsively again and walk back and forth, but this time he suppressed it and remained seated in the chair.I could see from his face that he was trying.My judgment is that his restlessness was caused by a long history of alcoholism.I find drunks annoying, so I decide to sneak back to sleep sometime. “I’ve been running an olive grove,” he continued, “and I’m here in Glasgow and for the Spanish Southern Olive Oil Company.”

"Oh, that's right." “We found a new refining process, you know. If done right, Spanish olive oil would be as good as Lucca, but we could sell it for less.” The way he talks is boring, in fact, he talks in a business-like way.He picked his words with Scots precision.At this moment, he looked extremely sober. “You know, Écija is sort of an olive oil trading center. There was a Spaniard there who took care of the business for us, but I found out that he kept stealing his own hands, so I had to get rid of him. I used to live in Seville Yah, it's easier to get oil transport there. But I couldn't find a trustworthy person to go to Écija, so I went there myself last year. You know?"

"have no idea." "The company has a plantation two miles out of town, just outside the village of San Lorenzo. It has a nice house on it. It sits on a hill, and it looks very nice, and it's all white, You know. There are a few white storks perched on the roof. No one lives there, and I figured if I lived there it would save me the rent to live in the city." "But it must be kind of desolate," I said. "yes." Robert Morrison smoked again in silence.I don't know what he meant by what he told me. I checked my watch. "Want to go now?" he asked sharply.

"It's not in a hurry. It's getting late." "Oh, so what?" "I suppose you don't see a lot of people there?" I said, returning to the subject. "Not much. I lived there with an old man and his wife, and they took care of me. Sometimes I would go down to the village and play tricks with the pharmacist Fernandez and one or two people I met in his shop. I Occasionally go hunting and horseback riding.” "It sounds like a good life to me." "I've been there for two years by last spring. I never imagined that it would be so hot in May alone. No one could work. The laborers had to lie in the shade and sleep. The sheep died from the heat. Yeah, some of the animals are going crazy. Even the cows aren't working anymore, they just stand there with their backs up and gasping for air. The goddamn sun is beating the ground and the light is scary and you feel you My eyes were about to fall out of their sockets. The soil was cracked and cracked, the crops curled up, and the olive trees deformed and destroyed. The whole garden was like hell. The nights were so hot that you couldn’t sleep for a second. I never Rushing from room to room just to catch my breath. Of course I closed the windows and sprinkled water on the floor, but it didn't help. The night was as hot as the day. It was like living in an oven. "In the end I thought I'd make a bed downstairs in a room on the north side that was never used and was always very humid in normal weather. I figured I might be able to get a few hours of sleep there anyway. ...it's something to try anyway. But damn, it didn't work, it didn't work at all. I tossed and turned in bed; it was unbearably hot. I got out of bed and turned the The door opened and I went out. It was a wonderful night. The moon was so bright, I swear to you, you could read a book by its light. Did I tell you the house was on top of a hill? I leaned against the railing, Looking at the olive trees, they are like the ocean. It reminds me of where I come from. I think of the cool breeze blowing in the fir forests of my hometown, and I think of the noise on the streets of Glasgow. Believe it or not, I can Smell them, smell the sea. God! If I could breathe that air for an hour, I could throw away everything I have in the world. Some people say that the weather in Glasgow is nasty, but you may not believe it, I love the rain and the gray sky and the yellow ocean and waves. I forgot that I was in Spain, right there among the olive groves. I opened my mouth and took a deep breath, as if Breathe in sea fog. "But then, suddenly, I heard a voice, a man's voice. It wasn't loud, you know, very small, and it seemed to crawl out of the silence. Oh, I don't know what it was like, but let I was amazed. I couldn't think of anyone who would have been in the olive grove at that time. It was past midnight. I recognized it. It was someone's laugh, a strange kind of laugh. I think you could call it It's 'giggling'. It seems to be slowly climbing up the hill - but the laughter is incoherent." Morrison gave me a look to see if I understood the strange word he was using—he used it to express how he was feeling at the time, but didn't know how to describe it. "I mean, it was trembling slightly, and suddenly it came up, or it was like shooting stones out of a bucket. I leaned forward and stared in that direction. At that moment, a full moon It was hanging brightly in the sky, and the earth was as bright as day. But if I could see anything, I would be damned! The sound stopped at this moment, and I still looked in the direction it was coming from, so that no one would come up. A minute later the voice came back, louder. You can't call it a 'giggle' now, but a real 'belly laugh'. It came through the night. I don't think it The servant wakes up. It sounds like someone is having a drunken frenzy. "'Who's there?' I exclaimed. "I got a big laugh in response. I don't mind telling you, I was kind of annoyed at the time. I wanted to go down and see what was going on. I don't want any drunks making a scene on my property in the middle of the night There was a great uproar. Just then there was a cry, "My God! Then there was another cry. The man laughed lowly, but wept sharply, like a pig with its throat cut. "'My God!' I exclaimed. "I jumped over the parapet and ran in the direction of the sound. I thought someone had been killed. There was silence and then there was a piercing scream. Then whimpers, groans ...I can tell you that the sound sounded like someone was about to die. After a long moan, there was no sound, and there was silence again. I ran from here to there, from there to here. Who I couldn't find it either. Finally, I climbed up the hill again and went back to my room. "You can imagine how much I slept that night. As soon as it was light, I looked out the window in the direction of the sound. I was surprised to see a small white house in a small In the bottom of the valley. The other side of the valley is not our field. I have never been there. It is almost impossible for me to go to the place where the house is. I have never seen the house before. I asked Joseph who lived there. He told Me, a madman lives there, and his brother and a servant." "Oh, doesn't that make it clear?" I said, "not a good neighbor." The Scot suddenly bent down, grabbed my wrist, and brought his face close to mine, eyes widening in horror. "That madman has been dead for twenty years," he muttered. He let go of my wrist and sat back in the chair, leaning back, panting. "I walked up the hill and walked around the house. The windows were shut and the door was locked. I shook the handle and rang the bell. I heard a clang inside, but nothing. Someone came and opened the door. It was a two-story house, and I looked up. The shutters were closed, and there was no sign of occupancy." "So what's the state of the house?" I asked. "Ah, very bad. The plaster is all gone, and the paint on the doors and shutters is barely visible. The floor is littered with tiles that have fallen off the roof and look like they were blown down by the wind. " "Strange." I said. "I went to my friend, Fernandez the pharmacist, and he told me exactly what Joseph had said. I asked what happened to the madman, and Fernandez said no one had seen him. Usually, he was in a coma, but occasionally he would suddenly go crazy, and he could be heard crying and laughing from a long distance. He used to scare people and finally died in an attack, his The guardian then moved out. Since then, no one has dared to live in the house. "I didn't tell Fernandez about the sound I heard. I thought he would laugh at me. I stayed up all night and was alert. But nothing happened. There was no sound. I didn't go to bed until the early hours of the morning. sleep." "Did you never hear anything again?" "Haven't heard it again for a month. The drought continued and I continued to sleep in the back storage room. One night, I fell asleep quickly, but at this point something seemed to happen, though I don't know how to tell exactly To describe it. It was a strange feeling, as if someone nudged me, gave me a warning, and I woke up all at once. I was lying on the bed, and at this time, just like last time, I There was a long, low chuckle, like one's delight at an old joke. It came from the valley below, and then the laughter grew louder. It was maniac laughter. I Jumped out of bed and walked to the window. My legs started shaking. It was horrifying to stand there and listen to the laughter coming from the night. At that moment, the sound stopped again, followed by the scream of pain Screams, and horrible whimpers. It didn't sound like a human voice. I mean, you might think it was a tortured animal. I don't mind telling you, I was terrified and just wanted to Couldn't move. After a while, the sound stopped, not suddenly, but slowly disappeared. I listened carefully, but couldn't hear anything again. I crawled back into bed and buried my face stand up. "I remember Fernandez told me at the time that the madman's madness is only intermittent, and the rest of the time he is very quiet. Very indifferent, Fernandez said so. I think, since the madman's madness It's regular, I can work out the time between seizures I've heard. Twenty-eight days. It doesn't take too long to extrapolate from reality. Apparently, it was the full moon that sparked his madness. I actually The Lord is not one to hesitate, so I decided to pursue this matter. I checked the calendar to see when the next full moon would be. I did not go to bed that night. I wiped my revolver and loaded it. I took ammunition, prepared a lantern, and sat on the parapet of the house to wait. I felt extremely calm. To tell you the truth, I was very satisfied with myself, because I felt no fear at all. At this time, A breeze in the air is blowing across the roof of my house. It rustles the leaves of the olive tree like a wave on pebbles on the beach. The moonlight is shining on the white walls of the house in the empty valley, and my The mood is good. "Finally, I heard that little voice, a voice I knew well. I almost laughed. Yes, it's full moon again tonight, and the maniac's frenzy is ticking like clockwork. It couldn't be better. I Jumped over the wall into the olive grove and walked straight towards the house. The giggling got louder as I got closer. I came to the house and looked up, no A glimmer of light. I put my ear to the door and heard the maniac laughing. I pounded on the door with my fist and rang the bell. The sound seemed to make him happy. He laughed again. I knocked again, once Louder than ever. The more he knocked, the more he laughed. Finally, I yelled at the top of my lungs. "'Open the damned door or I'll smash it.' "I took a few steps back, kicked the latch with all my strength, and then slammed my whole body against the door. The door cracked. Then I kept hitting as hard as I could. Finally, the damned Things cracked open. "I drew the revolver out of my pocket, and held up the lantern with the other hand. Now the door opened, and the laughter grew louder. I went in. The stench nearly knocked me down, I mean— You think the window has been closed for twenty years. At this time, the sound is loud enough to wake up the dead, but I don't know where it came from, and the sound is reflected back and forth on several walls, making it even more confusing The source of the sound. I opened a door next to it and walked in. It was empty, without even a piece of furniture. The sound got louder, so I followed the sound to find it. I walked into another room, still nothing. I Opened another door and found myself down a flight of stairs. The madman was just above my head laughing loudly. I went up the stairs carefully - you know, I wasn't taking risks. There was a passage at the top of the stairs. I walked down the passage Go over, hold the lantern up front. I come to a room at the end of the hall, and stop. Here he is. Now there is only a thin door between me and that voice. "Hearing that voice was horrible. A shudder went through my body and I started cursing myself because my whole body started shaking. The sound was not human at all. My God! I almost ran away. I bit Gritting my teeth, I forced myself not to run away. But I could barely muster up the courage to turn the handle. At that moment, the laughter stopped, you could say, it was like cutting with a knife. I Heard a hissing sound of pain, never heard it before - too small to reach where I live. Then there was a gasp. "'Alas!' I heard a man say in Spanish, 'You're killing me. Take it. Oh God, save me!' "He screamed. The beasts were torturing him. I kicked open the door and rushed in. A shutter was thrown back by the draft, and the moonlight came in so brightly that it dimmed the light of my lantern. My ears heard that poor fellow's moans so close and so clearly, as I hear you now. It was horrible, moaning, whimpering, and horrible gasping. No one survived like that, he He was on the verge of death. Let me tell you, I heard his cries with my own ears, intermittent and suffocating. There is nothing in the room!" Robert Morrison sank into his chair.This tall, stocky man had the strange look of a studio mannequin.You feel that if you just push him, he will fall to the ground and collapse into a heap. "And then?" I asked. He took a dirty handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. "I figured, I don't really want to sleep in that room to the north anymore. So, heat or not, I moved back to my room. Ah, exactly four weeks later, at about two o'clock in the morning, I was again hit by the madman Woke up to the giggles. Almost at my elbow. I don't mind telling you, I've been a little on the nerves since then. So, the next time that nasty guy goes crazy again, The next time the moon was full, I mean, I got Fernandez to stay with me and spend the night with me. I didn't tell him anything. I played cards with him until two o'clock in the morning, and then , I heard that voice again, and I asked him if he heard anything. 'No.' He said. 'Someone's laughing.' I told him. 'You're drunk, bro.' He said, and he Laughing. It was too much. 'Shut up, you fool!' I said. The laughter got louder. I cried out. I put my hands over my ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn't help. I Heard it again, I heard the scream of pain again. Fernandez thought I was crazy but he dared not say it because he knew I would kill him if he said that. He said he was going to sleep The next day, I found out that he had sneaked away. His bed hadn't been moved at all, as soon as he left me last night, he left. "Since then, I have not been able to stay in Écija. I found an agent there and returned to Seville. I finally felt quite safe, but as the night of the full moon approached, I'm still scared. Of course I tell myself not to be a goddamn fool, but, you know, I just can't fucking control myself. In fact, I'm scared of that voice following me, I know, if it doesn't work in Seville Get rid of it, and I'll listen to it forever. I'm as courageous as anyone, but damn it, everything has a limit, and my body can't handle it! I just stared wide-eyed, totally Crazy. I was in such a bad state that I started drinking. It was a horrible thing to do, and I would lie in bed without sleep and count the days. Finally, I knew that night was coming. Indeed Coming. I heard the voices—in Seville, sixty miles away from Ecija." I didn't know what to say and was silent for a while. "When was the last time you heard those voices?" I asked. "Four weeks ago." I looked up quickly, very surprised. "Then what do you mean? There is no full moon tonight." He gave me a sullen, exasperated look.He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly, as if unable to speak.You could tell it was paralysis of his vocal cords.Finally, he was able to speak with a hoarse voice. "No, tonight." He looked straight at me, his pale blue eyes twinkling and bloodshot.I've never seen such a frightened look on anyone's face.He stood up quickly, strode out of the room, and slammed the door behind him. I must admit, I didn't sleep well that night.