Chapter 34 Chapter Four

The sails fluttered slightly above their heads.The sound of the water was gurgling, the waves were beating against the side of the boat, and the boat dozed off in the sun, unable to enter.Occasionally a breeze stirred the sails, but they fluttered and the wind died down.The boat came to a complete standstill.Mr Ramsay sat in the middle of the boat.James thought he was going to get impatient soon; Cam felt the same way.She looked at her father, who sat in the middle of the boat between them (James at the helm in the stern; Cam alone in the bow), his legs curled tightly together.He hated drifting with the waves, hesitating.And so it was, and after a restless wait he snapped at the son of Macalister the boatman, who took out his oars and began rowing.But they knew that their impatient father would not be satisfied until the boat was flying fast.He would keep hoping for a fair wind over the sea, and he would fidget and mutter to himself, and the McAllisters would hear his murmurs, and they would both be very uncomfortable.It was he who sent James and Cam.He had forced them both to come.Out of anger they hoped that the wind would never blow, and they wished him to be as frustrated as possible, because he had forced them against their own will.

On the walk to the beach they had dragged behind together, though their father commanded them silently, "Go, go." They hung their heads; They bowed their heads.They couldn't talk to him.They must come; they must obey.They had to walk behind him with brown paper bags of groceries.However, when they followed, they silently vowed in their hearts: the two of them would work together to fulfill the great oath-resisting tyrants and preferring death to submission.Therefore, one of them was at the bow and the other at the stern, sitting silently facing each other.They didn't say a word, but occasionally glanced at the father who was sitting cross-legged. He frowned and sat on pins and needles, spat contemptuously for a while, murmured to himself for a while, and impatiently hoped that a strong wind would blow on the sea.They wished for peace and tranquility.They want him to be frustrated.They hoped that the expedition would be a complete failure, that they would be forced to turn back and walk up to the beach with their untouched food bags.

But when McAllister's son rowed the boat out a short distance, the sails slowly turned and filled the wind, and the boat increased in speed and stabilized, like an arrow off string. Generally drive away.As if the nerves of extreme tension were at once relaxed, Mr. Ramsay stretched his crossed legs, took out his little pipe, and, with a little throaty snort, handed it to Macalister, regardless of What a bitter disappointment to James and Cam, they knew he was completely content now.Now they would sail on like this for hours on end, and Mr. Ramsay would put a question to old Macalister—perhaps about the great storm last winter—and the old boatman would answer his question, and they The two would smoke their pipes leisurely together, and McAllister would take a tarred rope, knot it in his hand, or untie it, while his son would squat and fish, at odds with each other. Anyone speak a word.James would be forced to keep his eyes on the sail.For, if he neglected his duty, the sail would furl and roll, the ship would slow, and Mr. Ramsay would snap, "Attention! Attention!" and old Macalister would Will slowly turn around in his seat and look at him.In this way they heard Mr. Ramsay raise the question of the great storm of last Christmas. "That's the boat coming from that spot," said old Macalister; describing the storm when ten other boats were forced to take shelter in the bay, and he saw "one there, one There, one there" (He pointed slowly in all directions of the bay, and Mr Ramsay turned his head in the direction he pointed).He saw four men climb aboard a ship's mast.Then it sank. "At last we poled the boat aside," he went on (but, amidst their resentment and silence, they only heard a word or two now and then. oath that binds their hearts together).At last they poled the boat open, they lowered the lifeboat, they steered it away from the spot--McAllister was telling the story; They were always aware of their father's presence, how he leaned forward, how his and McAllister's voices answered each other's questions in unison; Looking in all directions in the direction pointed by Te, I savored the scenes of fishermen fighting to the death in the stormy night.He likes that: at night, men should fight and sweat on the blustery beach, with their flesh and their intellect against the storm and the stormy sea; Watching the sleeping children in the house, while the man was buried in the sea in the storm outside.From his swaying frame, watchful eyes, high-pitched voice, and strange tone of voice, James could understand his mood at this moment; Cam understood it completely (they looked at their father and looked at each other) When he asked McAllister about the eleven boats that had been driven into the bay by the storm, there was a touch of Scottish accent in his voice that made him look like a farmer.Of these eleven ships, three were sunk.

He looked in the direction McAllister was pointing, eyes shining with pride; Cam was proud of him for some reason, she thought, if he had been there, he would have lowered the lifeboat himself, he Will go to the wrecked ship.How brave he was, Cam thought, how adventurous he was.But she suddenly remembered that there was still that oath: To resist the tyrant, I would rather die than surrender.They were full of complaints, and they were both overwhelmed.They were forced to obey his orders.Once again he used his melancholy and paternal authority to overwhelm them, to compel them to carry out his orders, to go to the lighthouse with these packets on this bright morning, because it was his wish; he compelled them to come to this They hated a pilgrimage to satisfy his personal desire to mourn the dead, and so, though they dawdled with him, spoiled all the fun of the excursion.

The breeze blowing on your face is refreshing.The boat tilted and cut through the water, and the waves it stirred up were like green foam and waterfalls, pouring on both sides.Cam looked down at the foam, contemplating the sea and all its treasures, hypnotized by the speed of the boat, and the union between her and James loosened a little, weakened a little.She began to think: how fast the boat is going.Where are we going?She was hypnotized by the pitching of the hull; and James steered the ship sternly, with his eyes fixed on the sails and the horizon.But as he took the helm, he began to think that there was a possibility that he could get away, that there was a possibility that he could escape it all.Somewhere they might land; and so be free.The two of them stared at each other for a moment, partly because of the rapid speed, partly because of the change of scenery, they had a sense of detachment and sublimation.But the breeze stirred the same excitement in Mr Ramsay, and when old McAllister turned and cast his line overboard he cried out:

"We are perishing," he continued, "each perishing alone." Then, with that customary agitation of confession and shame, he seized himself and waved to the shore. "Look at that hut," he said, pointing to the shore, wanting Cam to look that way.She straightened up reluctantly and looked out.But which one is it?She couldn't recognize which of the houses on that hillside was theirs.All the houses looked very remote, quiet, and strange.The shore seemed very fine, distant, ethereal.The little distance they had sailed took them far from the shore, and made it look different, had an air of composure, as if it were something distant and quite alien to them. .Which one is their house?She can't recognize it.

"But I've been in rougher waters," muttered Mr Ramsay to himself.He had found the house, and having found it, he found himself there: he saw himself wandering up and down the terrace, alone.He saw himself wandering among those stone urns; he seemed to see himself stooped and old.Sitting in the boat, hunched over and huddled, he immediately begins to slip into his role—a bereaved, lonely widower—and, in his imagination, draw crowds to him , to commiserate with him; he sits in the boat, and plays a little drama for himself; a scene that requires him to look old, exhausted, and terribly sad (he lifts up his hands, looks at the bony fingers , thereby confirming his dreams), to make women feel great sympathy for him, and then he imagines how they would comfort him, sympathize with him, and reflect in his dreams the kind of sympathy that women's sympathy gave him. Subtle joy.He sighed and intoned mournfully in a low voice:

They all heard the mournful words quite clearly.Cam was almost flabbergasted in her seat.It shocked her—and outraged her.Her father was roused by her action; he shuddered, his dream was interrupted, and he cried, "Look! Look!" His cry was so urgent that James also turned to look at the island behind him.They all looked at the island. Cam, however, saw nothing.She was thinking that the alleys and lawns where they had dwelt, and which had entwined their lives, were gone: erased, left behind, unreal; These things were real: the boat and its patched sail, McAllister and the earrings he was wearing, the roar of the waves—it was all real.Thinking of this, she murmured to herself, "We perish, each alone," as her father's words flashed in her mind again and again.Seeing her staring into the distance so dreamily, her father began to tease her.Does she know where the dots on the compass stand?he asked.Can she tell the difference between east, west, north and south?Did she really think they lived that way?He pointed and told her where their house was: right there, by the trees.He wanted her sense of direction to be a little more precise, and he said, "Tell me—where is East and where is West?" He could not understand the state of mind of the people of Yiyi.But she still couldn't tell the way.Seeing her dazed gaze into the distance, and now her panic-stricken eyes fixed on where there were no houses, Mr. Ramsay forgot his dreams, forgot how he wandered among the stone urns on the platform, forgot How those women extended a sympathetic hand to him.Women were always like that, he thought; they were hopelessly muddled; that was a thing he would never understand; but that was the way it was.His wife—she always was.They cannot get any concepts clearly imprinted in their minds.However, it was wrong for him to be mad at her; what's more, didn't he quite like this kind of female confusion?This is part of their extraordinary charm.I'm going to make Cam smile at me, he thought.She looked startled.She is so silent.He clenches his fists and decides to hold back his voice, his facial expressions, his expressive gestures, which he has used at will over the years to win sympathy and admiration.He wants to make her smile at him.He wanted to find some easy topics to talk to her about.But what about?Because, working as hard as he does, he has forgotten what people usually talk about.Yes, there is a puppy.They have a puppy.Who is taking care of that puppy today?he asked.James saw the back of his sister's head against the sails, and he thought grimly: Yes, she will give in now; then I will be left alone against the tyrant.That oath would be left to him alone to keep it.Looking at the mournful, sullen, resigned expression on her face, he thought grimly: Kam would never stand up against a tyrant.It sometimes happens that when a dark cloud falls over a green hillside, there is a serious atmosphere, and the surrounding mountains are filled with gloom and melancholy, as if those mountains must seriously consider the one covered by the dark cloud. The fate of the hillside in the shadows, or sympathy, or gloat.And so Cam felt now that a cloud was hanging over her, and she sat among the peaceful and determined people, not knowing how to answer her father's question about the puppy, how to resist his entreaties— Forgive me, be considerate; on the other hand, James the Legislator (his hand on the tiller has become a symbol to her) said to her, as if spreading on his knees the statutes of eternal wisdom, Fight him, fight him.How fair James said it.Because they must fight the tyrant rather than submit to death, she thought.Of all human virtues, she most admired integrity.Her younger brother was most like a just god, and her father was the best at begging and begging.She sat between the two of them, gazing at the unfamiliar shore, thinking of the lawns, terraces, and houses that had been left peacefully in the distance and out of sight, and wondering which of the two she should ask. a concession.

"Jesper," she said wryly.He will take care of the puppy. What was she going to call it?Her father pressed on.When he himself was a little boy, he had a puppy named Flisk.James saw an expression on her face, an expression he remembered familiarly, and he thought she would give in.They'll look down at the yarn they're knitting, or something, he thought; Surrendered, making him furious.That must be his mother, he thought, sitting in a low chair with his father standing beside her and looking down at her.He began to search in the endless series of memories that accumulated in his mind gently and continuously, page by page, book by book: among various sights and sounds, among all kinds of harshness, emptiness, and sweetness. Among the sounds, among the passing lights, the broom lightly touching the floor, and the waves washing over the shore, he saw how a man paced up and down, stopped suddenly, and stood there very straight, looking down on mother and child.Meanwhile, he noticed Cam dipping her fingers in the sea and splashing about, staring blankly at the shore, saying nothing.No, she won't give in, he thought; she's not like his mother, he thought.Well, if Cam would not answer his question he would leave her alone, Mr. Ramsay made up his mind, and reached into his pocket for a book.But she was willing to answer his question; she was eager to remove some kind of barrier on her tongue, and said: Oh, yes, Frisk.I'll just call it Frisk.She even wanted to ask: Is it the little dog who found his way home from the wilderness alone?But, try as she might, she could not say that, for she was both afraid and true to their vow, yet James did not expect that she had whispered the love she felt for her father. Teleport to him.For, as she dabbled in the water, she reflected (now that the Macalister boy had hooked a mackerel that was bouncing across the deck with blood streaming from its gills); Fan or James, who occasionally stared at the horizon, was thinking: You have not encountered this kind of emotional pressure and split, and you have not encountered such an unusually strong temptation.Her father reached into his pocket for the book, and in a second he would have pulled it out.No one else was more attractive to her than him: his hands were beautiful, and his feet, his voice, his language, his haste, his eccentric passion, his The fact that he dared to speak out in public that we would each perish alone, and his remoteness, had a peculiar appeal to her. (He had already opened his book.) Sitting up straight, she thought as she watched McAllister's boy remove the hook from the gills of another fish: Yet, the unbearable It was his extreme blindness and tyranny that marred her beautiful childhood and set off such a storm of pain that even now she wakes up in the middle of the night shaking with rage and recalling his brutal and unreasonable coercive orders : "Do this," "Do that," recalling his desire to dominate and his "absolutely obey me" demands.

She said nothing, therefore, but gazed obstinately and sadly at the shore surrounded by an atmosphere of peace and tranquility, as if, she thought, the people were asleep there, and came and went as freely as wisps of smoke or ghosts.They won't have to suffer there, she thought.