Chapter 9 Sixth Series Candidate Mr. Smith 1-3

Candidate for the sixth series, Mr. Smith (1) "Guys," cried Mr. Smith, coming out of the hotel onto the pavement, to two of his employees—"put that Union Jack up there, high up." Then he stood there and watched the two flags flutter in the wind. "Billy," he said to the counter supervisor, "go get two more flags and hang them high up on the roof at the back of the store. Then call up town and ask about making a hundred of these flags." How much. Take down all those 'American Drinks' signs in the pub and replace them with the new 'British Beer, Always Available'. Take down the rye whiskey, go order some English, Irish rice, and go to the printing company, Tell them to make me some billboards for English liquor."

Then Mr. Smith had another idea. "Hey, Billy," he said, "call up town and order fifty King George's. Good quality, in color. It doesn't matter how much you pay." "Yes, sir," Billy replied. "Hey, Billy," cried Mr. Smith, and another thought came to him (indeed, since Mr. Smith got into politics, you could see ideas like this coming at him like waves), "get fifty more His father's coming is the portrait of the old King Albert." "No problem, sir." "Hey, let me tell you, remember, when you buy a portrait, you also buy a few of the old queen, the old Queen Victoria, if you can get it. If you want to buy one in mourning, you must have a harp, a lion and the trident pattern."

The morning after the Conservative party conference.Josh Smith has been selected as a candidate.Now the whole town is covered in flags and campaign signs, with bands playing in the streets every night, noise, music and excitement from morning to night. Even in the city, election time is lively enough, but in the city the excitement tends to fade when it's time for work.In Mariposa, there were no working hours at all, so the excitement went on and on. Mr Smith won the Conservative Party Congress.There are those who want to support Nivens, but the voice is very weak.Everyone knew that he was just a lawyer and a scholar, and he had no competitiveness compared with Josh Smith, who was much more knowledgeable.

As a result, Smith became the candidate of the Conservative Party, so campaign advertisements were hung up everywhere in the town, with big words such as "Smith is loyal to the British Empire".Badges were worn, with Mr Smith's head on one side and King George's on the other.The fruit shop next door to the Smith Hotel was cleaned up and became the offices of Smith's campaign committee, where cigars were smoked all day and half night. There were other advertisements in town, of course, with letters like "Bagshaw - Freedom", "Bagshaw - Prosperity", "Vote for Mariposa Standard Top Man", and so on.Next to the Mariposa Building on the north side of the town is the office of the Bagshaw campaign committee. There is a huge banner hanging across the street. Bagshaw's team smokes inside and will not stop until they get dizzy.

Mr. Smith made an estimate and found that nearly twice as many cigars were smoked in his campaign office as in the Liberal party's office.In the five elections so far, this is the first time the Conservative Party has seen such glory. It may be worth mentioning that there are also Reverend Zhou En's campaign billboards in the town--there are five or six yuan in it--small and small, each about the size of a handkerchief, with the words "Edward? The electorate of Missinaba County voted for him."But you never notice those gadgets.Later, Mr. Zhou En did everything possible to pull a large banner reading "Zhou En—Honesty" across the main street, but the wind blew it into the lake.

This campaign was really a Smith vs. Bagshaw battle, and everyone knew it from the start. I wish I could relate the stages of this greatest contest, with all its twists and turns, and reproduce every detail from the opening of the battle to the closing of the vote.However, that would require writing several large volumes. The first confrontation, of course, is to talk about trade issues.Mariposa's two newspapers, the News-Post and the Herald of the Times, had a heated debate on the matter, and statistics abounded in the pages supporting it.The reporter then interviews each candidate and publishes an interview note explaining each candidate's beliefs and views on key issues.

"Mr. Smith," asked the Mariposa News-Post reporter, "we would like to hear your opinion on the impact of the proposed reduction in differential tariffs." "Why, Pate," said Mr. Smith, "I can't tell. Come, have a cigar." "Mr. Smith, what do you think will be the effect of reducing the VAT preference for British goods while introducing American goods at a reciprocal tariff rate?" "That's an interesting question, isn't it?" replied Mr. Smith.Then he asked the reporter: "What would you like to drink? Old beer or local brew?"

In such short conversations, Mr. Smith showed that he had mastered in a few moments all the skills of dealing with the press.The interview in the newspaper the next day stated that although Mr. Smith was unwilling to explicitly point out that the principle of tariff differentials was contrary to sound fiscal science, he firmly believed that any reciprocal tariff policy with the United States would inevitably lead to a serious decline in the per capita national industrial output value. decline. "Mr. Smith," asked the chairman of a delegation of manufacturers in Mariposa, "if you were elected, what would you do with regard to tariffs?"

"Boys," said Mr. Smith, "I'm going to set it up damn high, and nobody's gonna try to get it down." "Mr. Smith," said the chairman of another delegation, "I have always been a free trader—" "Go on with it, then," said Mr. Smith. "Me too. It doesn't get any better than that." "What's your opinion on Imperial defense?" asked another. "What?" "Imperial Defense." "What are you guarding against?" "Prevent all aspects." "Who said that?" asked Mr. Smith.

"Everybody's talking about it." "What do the Conservative brethren in Ottaway think of this?" "They agree." "Very well, I agree," replied Mr. Smith. These short conversations represent only the first stage, the debate stage, of this great rivalry.It was at this stage that the Mariposa News-Post thoroughly demonstrated many things, such as the fact that the price of pork in Mariposa was 0.60% higher than the price of oranges in Southern California; Over five years, Missinaba County imported an average of 4.682 more eggs per decade than New Orleans imported lemons per decade.

Data like this can make people think.There is no doubt about it. Candidate for the sixth series Mr. Smith (2) After the debates, the campaign enters the organizational phase, followed by a public rally.Maybe you've never seen what it's like to have a county "organized."It was a sight to behold.First came Bagshaw's gang, who drove around the county in their buggies from west to east, and then again from south to north.Whenever they met a farmer, he would go to the farmer's house and have a meal there.When they had finished eating, they took the farmer to the buggy and offered him a drink, so that they could secure the man's vote.It wasn't until after the farmer had entertained the Conservatives that his vote would change. In fact, the only way to show a farmer your sincerity is to go to his house and have a meal with him.If you can't eat that meal, then he won't vote for you.It's an accepted political quiz. But, of course, just as Bagshaw and his party began to patrol for votes, Smith's men drove up from the other direction, and they ate with the farmers, handed them cigars, and reduced them all to Conservatives again. people. Here and there you might catch Edward Chow, the independent candidate, lobbying from farm to farm in the political smoke.He explained to each farmer that he promised himself no bribes, no black money, no promises of positions, so each farmer shook his hand warmly and told him the way to the next farm. After the village is organized, the next stage is the electorate assembly, where the candidates and their supporters engage in verbal battles with their opponents. I don't think there is anywhere in the Dominion of Canada where trade issues -- tariff reciprocity issues -- are discussed so thoroughly and with such patriotic fervor as in Mariposa.For at least a month, people talked about nothing but this topic.A will stop B on the street and tell the other party that he learned from the newspaper last night that the average price of an egg in New York is one percent higher than that in Mariposa.Later that same day, B will stop A again and tell him that the average price of pork in Idaho is 6% less per pound than the average price of steak in Mariposa (perhaps 6% more—he I can't remember if it was cheap or expensive).People lived by data like this, and whoever remembered the most data would stand out and be seen as a natural leader. But these things are most thoroughly discussed, of course, at the electorate.To record every detail of all the voter meetings held in Missinaba County would require a large book.But some eloquent and distinctive speeches here and there are worth mentioning, and they are classics.Take, for example, John Henry Bagshaw's speech in the auditorium of the Durkansas High School.The next day the Mariposa Times-Herald commented that the speech would go down in history.Exactly—it will be buried deep in the history books. Anyone who has heard Bagshaw speak knows that he is a very memorable orator.And on that night he spoke with the calm and gravitas of a man of advanced age who only aspired to serve his country, almost above his own level.Near the end of his speech, someone's brooch fell to the ground with such a noise that it rattled the windowpanes. "I'm old now, gentlemen," said Bagshaw, "and it won't be long before I not only have to say goodbye to politics, but I must also go to the place where I never return." There was silence.Everyone understood that this sentence meant that he wanted to settle in the United States. "Yes, gentlemen, I am in my twilight years, and I hope that when I go, I will leave as little hate as possible. But before I go, I hope everyone can clearly see this One point: There are more scoundrels in the Conservative Party than any decent community can tolerate.” He went on to say, “I mean no ill will to anyone, and I wish to speak kindly to all. Wait. I'm going to say that it baffles me that such a scoundrel should be nominated as a Conservative candidate by reasonable and responsible people. Gentlemen, there is no room for vindictiveness in this current campaign. swearing. We might as well stand a little higher than that kind of low behavior. People tell me that my opponent Smith is a salon owner. I don't want to talk about it at all. People tell me that he was convicted of stealing a horse. , that he was a well-known perjurer, and that he was the blackest liar known in Missinaba County. Let's not talk about that. Don't let it stain our lips." "No, gentlemen," continued Bagshaw, stopping to take a sip of water, "we'd better stand a little higher and talk about the national welfare. We'd better ignore our own partial interests, It's more about the bigger picture of the country. To that end, let me give you some facts about the price of barley in the township of Dekansas." Next, in the midst of silence, Bagshaw read a list of prices for sixteen kinds of grain in sixteen places for sixteen years. "However, let me step back," Bagshaw said, turning to the other side of this vital issue. Take a moment to look at the price of swamp hay in Missinaba County..." When Bagshaw sat down, there was a feeling that the Liberals were sure of winning in the Durkansas township. But here one underestimates Mr. Smith's political genius.As soon as Smith heard about it the next day, he called together his principal speakers and said: "Guys, they've got the upper hand on Unification. We're not even close to that." Then he turned to Nivens, and said: "What figures did you give here the night before?" Nivens took out a piece of paper and began to read. "Wait a minute," said Mr. Smith, "what's the meat figure?" "Fourteen million dollars," Nivens replied. "Excellent," said Mr. Smith, "let's say twenty million. Those farmers, they'll say yes." Nivens made a modification. "And what's the price of hay?" "Two yuan a ton." "Bring it up to four dollars," said Mr. Smith. "I'll tell you," he added, "if any farmer says the numbers are wrong, tell him to go to Washington and check it out for himself. You can tell them, If anyone wants to confirm the data you said, he can go to England to check it-tell him to go directly to London, and go to the books to find out for himself." Since then, there has been little trouble with statistics.However, I still have to say that the right use of data like this is still very impressive to the audience.In this election, probably the banker Mullins is the best at it.A man of his trade must have the data of trade, population, and money at his fingertips, and it is wonderful to be able to pick them up in a speech. No doubt you have heard speeches of such figures, but I doubt that you have heard speeches of lesser effect than those typically given by Mullins at the rally of voters in the Fourth District. Mullins himself, of course, knew the statistics so well he never bothered to put them on paper, yet his speeches were astonishingly effective. "Gentlemen," he said very earnestly, "how many of you know to what extent our exports have grown during the past ten years? Who can say how much our imports have grown during the past ten years?" How many percent?" Then Mullins paused, looking around.No one knows. "I myself..." he said, "couldn't give an exact figure—it's impossible at this moment—but it must be huge. Or population growth," Mullins cheered up again, as As natural statisticians always do in making approximate figures, he said, "How many of you know, how many of you can tell, how much our major cities have grown in population in the last ten years?—" At this point he stopped again, and believe it or not, no one could tell. “I can’t put numbers right now,” Mullins said, “but I have them at home, and they’re certainly substantial.” But in terms of delivering campaign speeches, candidate Smith once suffered a serious failure. According to the original plan, Mr. Smith's election platform included a complete ban on alcohol.But it didn't take long for them to realize that this move was a mistake.They brought in a guest speaker from town, a stern man in a white tie.This man devoted himself wholeheartedly to his work, and he was not paid except for his daily expenses and the fee for each lecture.I mean, he doesn't want anything more than a little money. On the same night that the Liberals rallied at the Decansas schools, he spoke at the Decansas Social Hall. "Gentlemen," he said, and after a short pause, "when we gather together to talk seriously about the affairs of state, do you know what is going on in our opponent's hall? This afternoon, seventeen Did you know that bottles of rye whiskey were sent from town to that innocent school that was prone to trusting people? There were seventeen bottles of whiskey hidden between the blackboard and the walls, and every one who attended the meeting—note my wording , everyone—can feed that damn thing at the Liberal candidate's expense!" When the speaker said this, Smith's supporters looked at each other at the meeting, surprised and annoyed, so that the speech was only halfway through, and the audience in the venue was almost gone. Since then, the terms of outright prohibition have been changed.The committee adopted a two-dimensional strategy. On the one hand, it advocated strict restrictions on the approval and issuance of alcohol business licenses to promote the prohibition movement; Only for those who are fit to drink them. At last came the great Election Day, the marvelous day which, as we all know, brought Mr. Smith's career to its triumphant pinnacle.There is no need to say much about this because it has become history. Anyway, anyone who has been to Mariposa knows what Election Day is like.All the shops were, of course, closed, as was customary.All hotels are closed in accordance with the law, and you have to go through the back door to get in.All were dressed in their best clothes, and they walked about the streets solemnly, as they used to do on the twelfth of July or St. Patrick's Day, before wanton fun.Voters are constantly looking at different polling places to see if anyone else has voted because no one wants to vote first - which is a natural thing - for fear of being fooled into voting for the wrong candidate people. Most of Mr Smith's supporters did what he wanted, they stayed silent and for the first few hours did not vote.In Mr. Smith's view, campaigning is like catching a bear. You have to calm down first. "Save your ballots for now, boys," he said. "Don't be too impatient. Wait until the time is right, and when the time comes, you'll hit it hard and give it a hard two." Each polling place in Mariposa has an election presiding officer and two poll monitors.Those voters snooping around inside and outside the polling station, I think, are no different from mice looking around in a mousetrap.And once the two poll monitors got someone into the voting booth, they would push him behind a small curtain so that he had to vote if he didn't want to.As for the method of voting, needless to say, it is a secret ballot, so apart from the election host, two poll monitors, and two or three people present at the time, no one knows who this person voted for. It is precisely because of this that the initial voting results are often contradictory and full of contradictions.Sometimes the polling stations were so messed up that the scrutineers couldn't figure out how the ballots were registered, and as a result, the Liberal and Conservative votes were counted backwards.It also often happens that voters cast their ballots so hastily and carelessly that the tellers have to take their ballots out of the box to see who has been voted for. I think it is probably because of the above reasons that Mariposa's early election results are so outrageous. Sixth Series Candidate Mr. Smith (3) Perhaps this is why the ballot report indicated that the independent candidate, Edward Chow, was certain to win.How excited the people in the street were when the news broke, if only you had seen it.At the big voter rallies held by the Liberal Party and the Conservative Party, people had completely forgotten about Zhou En. When the news of Zhou En's lead in the number of votes spread around four o'clock, the voters were all surprised endlessly.Not that they were unhappy with the outcome.Instead, they are happy.Everyone went up to shake Zhou En's hand and congratulate him, telling him that they had known for a long time that what the country needed was a representative of integrity, honesty, and non-partisanship.Conservatives openly say they are sick of party politics and want to break with it; Liberals say they hate partisanship.Three or four people had pulled Zhou En aside and explained that what the town needed was an aboveboard, clean, non-partisan post office, which should be established on a piece of land that was absolutely free from partisanship, without any Partisan entanglements taint the accord as a principle.Two or three of them were happy to tell Zhou Enshang where he could buy such a piece of pure land.They also told him that they had no personal grievances against Trelawney himself, the present Master, in the matter of the choice of Postmaster, nor would he say anything about him--except that he was utterly and utterly incompetent. .They also said that if Zhou En advocated a pure administration, as he had said, he should first purify Trelawney. Edward Chow had begun to get a feel for what it meant to be in power, and there was a sort of self-importance in his demeanor, the first sign of awareness of being in power. To be honest, Zhou En had the opportunity to feel a little bit of the taste of being in power during the short period of half an hour in power.Henry McGimmis came to him with a blunt offer to be a census taker for the federal government, on the grounds that he was in dire financial condition and had been crippled by rheumatism all winter.Nelson Williamson applied for the post of director of the docks, claiming that he had been bedridden with sciatica all winter and was unsuitable for anything else.Erasmus Archer asked Zhou En if he could put his son Pater in a ministry in Ottawa, and he gave very good reasons, saying that he had tried his best to find a job for Pater elsewhere , but can't find it.It wasn't that Pate wasn't motivated, but he was slow--even his father had to admit it--so stupid, damn him.He's lost his head when it comes to numbers, and unfortunately he's never had the chance to remedy that by going to school before.But if Zhou En could find a job for him in Ottawa, his father was sure that would be the best for him.Surely there must be a job or two for a lad like him in the Ministry of Indian Affairs, the Institute of Astronomy, or the New Canadian Navy?Zhou En patiently explained all such requests, saying that he would definitely consider them seriously, and at the same time, please understand that he had to study and study with his colleagues first, and could not just do things according to his own wishes.To be honest, if Zhou En had ever been jealous of the cabinet ministers in his life, at this moment his jealousy has completely disappeared. But Zhou En's fortune was short-lived.Even before the polls in Mariposa had closed, word, true or not, had been circulating that Bagshaw had been elected in the county.Bagshaw was overwhelmingly voted in the Second District—he outnumbered Smith six to two—and all the districts along the township's main line (the Hay Feed Farm was just off the main line) were said to support Bagshaw. Gershaw. As soon as the news reached the town, the Mariposa Band of the Knights of the Helios (everyone a member of the Liberal Party) played on Main Street, surrounded by huge red flags and a sign saying " Bagshaw always wins" in huge letters, each a foot high.The joy and enthusiasm of the people was a scene I had never seen before.People thronged Bagshaw on the steps of the Mariposa Hotel, shaking hands with him, saying they were proud to witness such a grand day, that the Liberal Party was an honor to the Dominion, and that the thought of the so-called nonpartisan Politics disgusts them.In a short time, people have started to organize the evening parade in the campaign office. They have prepared slides and speeches, and they have also prepared a large bouquet of flowers for Mr. Bagshaw who is about to speak on the stage. The little girl in the dress (both Liberals) offered him flowers. There was only one hour left to vote, and it was at this critical juncture that Mr. Smith came out of his campaign office and told his supporters to march to town and vote!The momentum was just like the Duke of Wellington ordered the whole army to attack Waterloo.And so voters poured out of the campaign committee's headquarters and branch offices, each with a blue badge flying from his lapel. "Do it well, boys," said Mr. Smith. "Vote and keep voting and voting and voting until they kick you out." Then he turned to his campaign aides. "Billy," he said, "wire up to town and say I'm overwhelmingly elected, and tell them to send the same right back. Then call every polling place in every country and send Write back that the whole town is unwaveringly Conservative, and tell them to telephone back the same message. Also, call some carpenters, tell them to build a table in front of the hotel, tell them to close the door of the pub Remove the hinges from the top and leave the door wide open, ready to open as soon as voting closes." It was the last hour that was decisive.First there were big posters in the window of the Mariposa News-Post with a telegram saying the city was reporting that Josh Smith was about to be elected.Then, the same news came from all over the county.At this point, voters couldn't wait any longer.Almost all of them waited all day, and no one wanted to cast the wrong vote.But when they saw people who supported Smith flocking to the polling station to vote, and on the other hand heard the news that Smith would be elected outside, they no longer had any hesitation.They swarmed forward with determination, and by the time the election was declared closed at five o'clock, there was not the slightest doubt that the county had been saved and Smith had been elected Mississinaba County Representative. I wish you had seen the pomp of Mariposa that night, it was good for your body and mind--it was such a jubilation as you had never seen before, it would fill your heart with joy.It appears that there really isn't a Liberal in the whole town and there never has been.All of them are Conservatives, and have been for many years.Those who voted Liberal for 20 years with pain and sorrow showed their true colors that night, all outspokenly calling themselves Conservatives.They said they couldn't bear the humiliation any longer and had to confess everything.Telling this truth comes with a sacrifice, but no matter how great the sacrifice, they are prepared to bear it. Even Mr. Gorgosha Kingham, the undertaker, came forward and said that he had worked for John Henry Bagshaw all these years against his will.He said he was suspicious from the very beginning.He said this doubt has been bothering him.Doubts such as these came upon him so often that he could have worked in peace of mind every night, and made it almost impossible for him to continue his embalming work.is not that right?On the night that the reciprocal trade policy was proposed, he expressed his doubts to his wife as soon as he got home, telling her that he felt that it was a betrayal of the country.It is strange how many, many people say they have had the same doubts as Kingham.Trelawney confessed that he had told Mrs. Trelawney that it was madness.Jeff Thorpe, the barber, said that the day he talked about reciprocity, he went home to dinner and told his wife that it would kill the country's business and introduce a cheap , gaudy American haircuts, and would sap any real loyalty to Britain.To think, Mrs. Kingham, Mrs. Trelawney, and Mrs. Thorpe, who have known all this for six months and have been silent for so long!I think there are many, many Mrs. Kinghams all over the country.This just proves to us once again that women are not fit for politics. Mariposa's parade that night will never be forgotten.The streets were bustling, torches were burning, the Band of the Knights of the Helios was intoxicating (a thoroughly Conservative organization in all but the name), and most memorable were the eloquent speeches and the all-time highs. Patriotic passion. A large podium was erected in front of the hotel, and Mr. Smith and his chief assistants sat on it, with a forest of flags behind them.A bouquet of flowers was presented to Mr. Smith by four little girls in white dresses--the same four I mentioned earlier, because it turned out that they were in fact Conservatives. Then there is the speech.Judge Pepalay said there was no need to talk about the victories that had been won because that was history, and that because of his official position it was not the place for him to talk about his part in the victories, Because everything he did has since become history.And Nivens, the lawyer, said he had only a few words to say, because what he may have done is now history, and posterity, he said, will read about it in history books, There is no need for him to say it himself, because that has become part of the history of this country.The other speeches were of the same tone, and no one was quite willing to dwell on the subject (not more than half an hour at most) on the grounds that what they had done was best left for posterity.No doubt there was some truth in what they said, anyway. Mr. Smith, of course, said nothing.He didn't have to say it—at least not for four years—he knew it. The sixth series submerged in seaweed (1) Also known as: Shipwreck at Sea (A well-worn ocean story) It was August, 1867, and I went on deck of the Southie Sully, while she was at anchor in Gravesand's dock, as second mate. I am a tall and handsome young man, square and strong, with a bronze-colored skin—obtained from the light of the sun and the moon (some parts are even bronzed by the influence of the stars), with an honest, intelligent, and talented face, And there was simplicity, humility, and a Christian spirit on his face. Once on deck, seeing my sailor's reflection reflected in a bucket of pitch beside the mast, I felt a sense of triumph.After a while, I couldn't contain my satisfaction when I noticed my reflection in a bucket of sewage. "Welcome, Mr. Brohard," cried Captain Bilge, coming out of the compass room, and reaching over the taffrail to shake my hand. I found standing before me a decent sailor's figure, between thirty and sixty years of age, clean-shaven, but with large side-whiskers and a thick goatee. With a bushy moustache, he was muscularly built, with well-developed hips, and wore a pair of baggy canvas trousers—so baggy that a whole history of the British Navy would have been written at the hips. Standing beside him were the first mate and the third mate. They were not tall and didn't speak much. I saw some kind of melancholy expression in their eyes looking at the captain. The ship is on the eve of departure.Her deck was a scene of bustle and gaiety which was peculiarly dear to sailors.The sailors are busy, some are nailing the mast, some are hanging the spar from the side, some are varnishing the scupper holes on both sides of the deck, and some are pouring hot pitch down the lift. Captain Bilge, in his rugged sailor's way, was constantly yelling at the sailors through the megaphone: "Hey, take it easy, don't wear it out, gentlemen, and remember we've got time. Don't hang around in the sun. Pull that cable over there, and be careful, Jones. , I'm afraid that's a little high for you. Fuck, puff, Williams, don't get asphalt all over your body, how can you look like that?" Leaning on the gaff of the mainsail, I was thinking—yes, dear reader, of my mother.I hope at least on this basis you will think of me later.Whenever something doesn't go my way, I lean on something and miss my mother.If it got worse, I would stand on one leg and miss my dad.Then I can face any trouble. Am I missing someone else, someone younger than my mother and more beautiful than my father?Yes, I was thinking of such a person. "Be strong, dear," I'd whispered to her once, as she nestled her head in my oilskin overalls and kicked her heels back with girlish pain: "Five years' sailing and it's over,然后再过三年我就会回到你身边，到那时我就有足够的钱买一张二手渔网并在岸上定居下来了。” 在我想心事的同时，船上的准备工作完毕了。所有桅杆都已到位，所有的船帆都钉了起来，拿斧的水手正在砍搭在船和码头之间的木板。 “都准备好了吗？”船长大声问道。 “好了，准备好了，先生。” “那就起锚吧，派个人拿钥匙下去打开酒吧。” 打开酒吧！这是启航前的最后仪式，也是一个伤心的仪式。在航海中我不知已见过它多少次了：一小群被迫背井离乡的男人马上就要启程了，他们带着伤心的神情站立着，在等那个带钥匙的人打开酒吧——他们呆立在那儿，像被某种奇怪的魔力摄住了似的。 第二天早晨，和风在船尾吹送，我们的船嗡隆嗡隆地绕过英国的海角，不久便沿英吉利海峡南下了。 我觉得，对那些从没亲眼目睹过的人来说，没有比英吉利海峡更壮观的了。它是全世界的海上通衢。世界各国的船只都在这里南北穿梭，有荷兰的，有英格兰的，有委内瑞拉的，甚至还有美国的。 中国平底大帆船来来往往。战舰、摩托艇、冰山和木筏子随处可见。要是我再补充一点，读者便可想见海峡的恢宏气象了：厚厚的浓雾笼罩海面，简直把整个海峡都给蒙住了。 现在我们已在海上航行了三天。我开始时那种晕船的感觉渐渐消失了，而且对父亲也想得少些了。 第三天早上，比尔吉船长下到我的舱房来。 “布洛哈德先生，”他说，“我得提醒你，要加倍小心。” “发生了什么事？”我问道。 “大副和三副都从船上掉到海里去了。”他很不自在地说，同时避开我的眼睛。 我装出心安理得的样子，说：“没关系，先生。”可我内心却禁不住犯疑，总觉得大副、三副在同一个晚上落水有点蹊跷。 无疑其中准有某种奥秘。 两天后的早上，船长又带着上次那种躲躲闪闪的、不自在的神情出现在餐桌边。 “又有什么不对劲的事吗，先生？”我问道。 “是的，”他回答说。他一边强装镇定，一边用手指把一个煎蛋捏来捏去，他神经质地捏得那么用力，几乎把蛋捏成了两半——“很抱歉告诉你，我们的水手长又没了。” “水手长！”我惊叫道。 “是的，”比尔吉船长说，显得平静了一些，“他摔到海里去了。这事儿我也有点责任。事情发生在今天早晨。当时我叫他探身子去察看一座冰山，我用双臂抱着他，结果，老实告诉你，纯属偶然——我让他掉进了海里。” “比尔吉船长，”我问道，“你采取了什么措施救他吗？” “至今没有，”他不自在地回答说。 我目光直直地看着他，但什么也没说。 十天过去了。 谜团越来越大。星期四那天，据报告右舷当班的两名水手不见了。星期五那天，助理木匠失踪了。星期六晚上又发生了一件怪事，它虽然是小事，却为我了解船上正在发生的事提供了线索。 当时大概是子夜，我刚好在掌舵轮。我看见船长抓着服务生的腿把他横扛在肩上，摸着黑向船尾走来。服务生是一个开朗的小个儿小伙子。他欢快的性格已使我喜欢上他。于是我饶有兴趣地观察着，看船长要对他干些什么。到达船尾之后，比尔古船长戒备地朝四周张望了一会儿，然后就把那小伙子丢进了海里。那小伙子的头在波涛的磷光中浮沉了一会儿。船长朝他砸过去一只靴子，深深地叹了一口气，然后就下到船舱里去了。 谜底就在这里！是船长把水手们扔下海去的。第二天早晨，我们又像往常一样在早餐桌边见了面。 “可怜的小威廉掉到海里去了。”船长一边说，一边抓起一块船上的熏肉，开始用牙齿撕咬，好像真有意要吃它似的。 “船长，”我非常激动地说，一边用餐刀狠狠地戳一条面包，简直要把面包戳烂了——“是你把那孩子扔下海的！” “是我，”比尔古船长说，他突然变得镇定了，“他们都是我扔下海的，我还准备把其他人也扔下去。听着，布洛哈德，你年轻有力、雄心勃勃而且值得信任。我想和你交个知心朋友。” 现在完全的平静笼罩了我们。他走向一个柜子，在里面翻了一阵子，抽出一张退了色的黄色羊皮纸，然后把它摊在桌上。那是一张地图或海图。它的中心有一个圆圈，圆圈中央有一个小点和字母T。图纸的一端标着字母N，与它相对的另一端标有字母S。 “这是什么？”我问道。 “你猜不出来吗？”比尔古船长说道，“这是一个荒岛的地图。” “啊！”我突然灵机一动，答道，“N表示北方， S表示南方。” “布洛哈德，”船长说着用力敲了一下桌子，致使餐桌上的一条面包蹦跳了三四次，“你说对了。我原来还没想到这点哩。” “字母T代表什么呢？”我问道。 “代表财宝，埋藏在那里的财宝，”船长说，他把地图翻过来读背面的说明，“T点表示埋财宝的确切地点，财宝共计五十万西班牙金币，用一口褐色皮衣箱埋在沙子里。” “那宝岛在哪里呢？”我欣喜若狂地问道。 “我也不知道，”船长说，“我准备沿各纬度线来回寻找，不找到决不罢休。” “在找的同时该做些什么呢？” “与此同时，要做的第一件事就是减少水手的人数，人越少各人分到的钱就越多。没错，就这么着，”他表现得那么直率坦白，让我一下子爱上了他，尽管他有不少缺点，“您愿和我一起干吗？我们要把他们全都扔到海里去，留厨师到最后，然后把财宝全挖出来，那我们下半辈子就什么都不用愁了。” 读者朋友，假如我答应了他，那你会责骂我吗？我当时是那么年轻、热心、雄心勃勃，充满了美好的希望和孩子似的热情。 “比尔吉船长，”我握住他的手，说，“我听从您的吩咐。” “好，”他说，“现在你到水手舱去，看看那些家伙在想些什么。” 我于是去了水手舱——船前部的一间陈设朴素的舱房，里面铺着一块粗糙的地毯，摆着几把简陋的扶手椅、几张书桌、一个造型简单的痰盂和几张带蓝绿相间的屏风的小钢床。现在是星期天早晨，水手们大多是穿着睡衣坐在那儿。 第六辑没入海草(2) 我一进去他们就站了起来并向我致意。 “先生，”副水手长汤普金斯说，“我认为我有责任告诉您，水手们有极大的不满情绪。” 有几个水手点了点头。 “大伙儿对老是有水手掉进海里很不满，”他继续说，因无法抑制的激动而提高了声调，“这绝对是荒唐的，先生，要是您不在意的话，我就实话告诉您，大伙儿很是反感。” “汤普金斯，”我严厉地说，“你必须明白，我的身份不允许我听到如此大逆不道的话。” 我返回到船长那儿。“我觉得水手们想谋反。”我说。 “好，”比尔吉船长一边说，一边摩拳擦掌，“那会叫他们多数人丧命的，当然，”他沉思着补充说，一边从尾舱宽大的老式舷窗望出去，看着南大西洋汹涌的波涛，“我估计海盗随时可能来袭，那会干掉他们不少的。不过，”——他按一下铃把服务生召了来——“请叫汤普金斯先生来一下。” “汤普金斯，”副水手长一进来，船长就说，“请你站到柜子上面，把头伸出尾舷窗看看，然后告诉我你对天气状况的高见。” “好的，好的，先生。”那个头脑简单的水手回答说。我和船长默默地会心一笑，交换了一下眼色。 汤普金斯站到柜子上，把头和肩膀伸出了舷窗。 我们每人抓起他的一条腿往外一推。我们听见了他坠入海中的声音。 “汤普金斯好办，”比尔吉船长说，“对不起，我得把他的死记入航海日志。” “没错，”他紧接着继续说，“要是他们叛乱，那可就帮大忙了。我猜他们会的，迟早的事儿。这通常都会发生的。不过在我们与海盗遭遇之前，我得暂停行动，以免挑起叛乱。同时呢，布洛哈德先生，”他说着站了起来，“要是你能每个星期再丢那么一两个下去，我会万分感激的。” 三天之后我们绕过了好望角，进入了海水如墨的印度洋。我们现在的航线呈“之”字形，而天气又是那么好，我们在一平如镜的海面上以疯狂的速度蜿蜒而行。 第四天一艘海盗船出现了。读者朋友，我不知道你是否曾见过海盗船。即使最勇敢的人见了它都会心寒。它整个儿是漆成黑色的，一面黑旗挂在桅杆尖上，大大小小的帆也是黑色的，在甲板上肩并肩操练的海盗们也是一色的黑衣。只有船首赫然写着“海盗船”三个白色大字。它一出现我们的水手显然就被吓住了。那种架势连狗看了都会害怕的。 两艘船靠到了一起。然后，两条船被用捆麻袋的绳子牢牢地绑在了一起，一块跳板在中间架了起来。一会儿，海盗成群地拥上了我们的甲板，他们眼睛狂转，咬牙切齿，还在磨指甲哩。 接着战斗开始了，战斗持续了两个小时——包括中途休战吃午饭的十五分钟。那场景真是可怕。海盗与我们的水手扭打在一起，互相从后面踢屁股，互相打对方耳光，而且有很多人完完全全地火了，千方百计的想咬对方一口。我看见一个大块头的年轻海盗舞动着一块打了结的毛巾，在我们的人中间横冲直闯，直到比尔吉船长冲过去，用一块香蕉狠打他的嘴巴，他才败下来。 在两个钟头过去的时候，经双方同意，战斗以双方平手宣告结束。双方的比分是六十一分半比六十二分。 两艘船被解开了，在双方全体水手的三声欢呼声中，它们又各自开始了自己的航行。 “这下好了，”船长在一旁对我说，“现在我们看看有多少人累坏了，刚好可以不费事儿地扔下海去。” 他下到船舱里去了。几分钟之后他又上来了，脸色死白。“布洛哈德，”他说，“船在下沉。有一个海盗（当然，纯属偶然，我不怪任何人）在船的一边踢了一个洞。我们来听听那个洞的水声。” 我们把耳朵贴在船壁上。听声音是有水涌进船来。 水手们奉命用抽水泵抽水，干得那么疯狂——只有在即将沉没的船中面临灭顶之灾的人才能理解这种狂劲。 下午六点，进水孔涌进的水已达半英寸高，入夜时分水位已达四分之三英寸，而到天亮的时候，经过一夜不懈的苦干，水位已到八分之七英寸。 第二天中午水位已升到了十六分之十五英寸，而到第二天入夜时分积水已达三十二分之三十一英寸高。这情况令人绝望。假如以这种速度增加，谁都不知道几天后水位会升至多高。 那天晚上船长把我叫到了他的舱房。他面前放着一本印满数学表格的书，地上则到处丢着大张大张的写满普通分数的纸。 “船是肯定要沉的，”他说，“事实上，布洛哈德，她正在下沉。我可以证明这一点。也许要拖上六个月或几年，但要是她继续这样下去的话，她是必沉无疑的。除了弃船别无选择。” 那天晚上，当水手们忙着抽水的时候，船长和我趁着深深的黑暗造了一个筏子。 在谁也没有注意到的情况下我们砍下了所有的桅杆，把它们砍成合适的长度，十字交叉叠在一起，然后用靴带捆牢。 我们急匆匆地往筏子上搬了一箱罐头食品和一箱酒，还带了一个六分仪、一个气量计、一个自行车打气筒和其他一些科学仪器。然后，利用船自身的摇晃，我们把筏子放到了海里，自己则沿一根绳子下到了筏子上。在热带之夜的漆黑掩护下，我们划离了那艘注定沉没的船。 破晓的天光发现我们如同印度洋上的一个小斑点。我们看起来只有一个“?”大。 早上，在穿好衣服并精心刮了脸之后，我们打开食品箱准备吃喝。 接着我们的可怕处境显露出来了。 船长从罐头箱子里把那些蓝色的方形牛排罐头一个接一个拿了出来。我们共拿出来五十二个。我们焦急地查看着，直到拿出最后一个罐头脸都是绷着的。我们心里只有一个念头。罐头全拿出来了，船长在筏子上站了起来，用狂野的目光瞪着天空。 “罐头起子！”他尖叫道，“天啦，罐头起子上哪去了？”他仆倒在筏子上。 与此同时，我用颤抖的双手打开了装酒的箱子。里面装着一瓶瓶的陈啤酒，每一瓶的瓶口都封有特别的锡箔。我把它们一瓶接一瓶拿了出来。总共有五十二瓶。拿出最后一瓶酒后，我发现箱子里什么也没有。我喊叫起来——“起子！起子！噢，老天爷开恩吧！开罐头的起子在哪儿了！” 我仆倒在船长身上。 醒来时我们发现自己仍然只是大洋上的一个小斑点。我们甚至觉得比先前更渺小了。 头顶是热带钢光闪亮的天空。阴沉、铅黑的海水从四面八方拍打着筏子。我们身边则是乱七八糟的液牛肉罐头和陈啤酒。我们在接下来的几天所受的折磨简直无法形容。我们徒劳地用拳头砸那些罐头。我甚至甘冒使罐头盒遭受永久性损伤的风险，疯狂地拿起罐头往筏子上狠砸。我们用脚跺它们，用牙齿咬它们，还狠狠地诅咒它们。我们用手猛扯啤酒瓶盖，把它们往罐头上敲砸，根本不管会不会砸烂瓶子和浪费酒了。 全是白费劲。 接下来的一天又一天，我们问在筏子上。肚子被饥饿折磨得够呛，另外我们还没有书读，没有烟抽，甚至连聊天的话题都没有。 第十天船长打破了沉默。 “准备好抓闭，布洛哈德，”他说，“非这样不行了。” “是呀，”我烦闷地说，“我们一天比一天瘦了。” 于是，面对同类相食的可怕前景，我们开始抓阔。 我准备了两根闭签，把它们伸到船长面前。他抽到了长签。 “这是什么意思，”他问道，在希望和绝望之间不住地颤抖，“我赢了吧？” “不，比尔吉，”我凄凉地回答说，“你输了。” 不过我没有必要为接下来的日子多费笔墨了——那是些在筏子上慵懒地做梦的寂静而漫长的日子，在这段时间里我慢慢地恢复了体力——此前我已被贫乏与饥饿折磨得筋疲力尽。读者朋友，那可是一段非常深沉寂静的日子，每次缅怀那个使这段日子变成如此模样的勇敢的人，我都禁不住要流一两滴眼泪。 自那以后的第十五天，我被筏子撞岸的震动从沉沉的睡梦中惊醒了。我也许吃得太开心了，根本没注意到已接近陆地。 我面前是一个岛屿，它圆圆的形状和低矮的沙岸让我马上认出了它。 “宝岛，”我叫喊道，“我的英勇终于得到了回报！” 我急匆匆地冲到岛的中央。映入我眼帘的是一番什么景象呢？沙子里挖了一个巨大的坑，一个空空的衣箱躺在坑边，一块从船上取下来的厚木板插在沙子里，上面写着这样一些字：“索西?萨莉号，1867年11月。”有这种事！这么说那些恶棍把船修好了，而且他们一定从我们一时疏忽而留在舱房桌子上的地图得知了宝岛，于是就开船找了过来，把可怜的比尔吉和我本来可以稳拿的财宝洗劫一空了！ 由于对人类的忘恩负义感到恶心，我在沙子上瘫坐下来。 这个岛于是成了我的家。 我挣扎着艰难地活了下来，以沙子和碎石果腹，以仙人掌之类植物为衣，一年又一年过去。吃沙子和泥土渐渐损害了我健壮的体格。我病倒了。I'm dead.我埋葬了自己。 但愿其他写海洋故事的人也能写得如此精彩。 第六辑一个超级灵魂的伤心事(1) 又名：玛丽?玛什纳夫回忆录 （由机器译自俄语原文） 你常看自己映在镜子里的脸吗？ 我可常常这样。 有时候我一连几个小时站着，凝视自己镜中的脸，对它惊奇不已。有时我把镜子颠倒过来，目不转睛地盯着它。我苦思冥想那张脸意味着什么。看来它在用褐色大眼睛回望我，好像它认识我而且想和我说话似的。 我为什么要出生呢？ I have no idea. 我每天对我的脸问一千次，但是得不到答案。 有时候别人——我的女仆尼特尼兹卡，或男仆贾卡勃——经过我的房间，看见我在对自己的脸说话，他们认为我是个蠢姑娘。 可我并不蠢。 有时候我扑到沙发上，把头埋在靠垫里。即使这时候，我还是找不到自己出生的理由。 我现在十七岁了。 我能不能活到七十七呢？what! 我少说点能不能活过六十七，或活到六十七呢？oh! 要是我能活到这些岁数，那我能活到八十七吗？ I have no idea. 我经常在夜间惊醒，眼神狂乱，为自己能不能活到八十七而迷惘。 接着的一天 今天出去散步时我碰到一朵花。它长在河岸边的草地里。 它正站在长长的花梗上做梦。 我知道它的名字。它叫楚普夫斯卡娅。我爱美丽的名字。 我弯下身子，对它说话。我问它我的心是否懂得爱。它说它想我是懂的。 回家的路上我碰到一棵洋葱。 它躺在路上。 有人踩在它的茎上。把它踩烂了。它一定够痛苦的。我把它放进了我的胸口。整个晚上它都躺在我的枕边。 another day 我的心在渴望爱！可我怎么谁也爱不上呢？ 我试过了，可是办不到。我的父亲——伊凡?伊凡诺维奇——他块头那么大，人又那么好，可是我没法爱她；我的母亲，卡图莎?卡图莎维奇，她也同样块头大，可我没法爱她；还有我的哥哥，狄米特里?狄米特里维奇，我也没法爱他。 还有阿利克西斯?阿利克索维奇！ 我没法爱上他。可我将和他结婚。我们已订了婚期。是在从今天起一个月后。a month.三十天。为什么我没法爱上他呢？他又高又壮。他是个士兵。他在沙皇尼古拉?罗曼诺夫的卫队服役，可是我没法爱他。 第六辑一个超级灵魂的伤心事(2) 接着又一天 瞧他们是怎样囚禁我的！干这些好事的是我的父亲伊凡?伊凡诺维奇，还有我的母亲（我这会儿忘了她的名字），还有其他所有的人。 我没法呼吸。 他们不允许我。 每一次我企图自杀他们都阻止我。 昨晚我又试了一回。 我放了一小瓶硫酸在我床边的桌子上。 它没有要我的命。 他们还阻止我跳河自杀。 Hi! 我不知道是为什么。我徒劳地问空气和树木为什么我不该自溺。它们给不出任何理由。 可是我渴望自由，自由如那些小鸟，如它们中最小的那一只。 我注视在风中摇曳的树叶们，我想成为一片树叶。 可他们所想的只是迫使我吃！ 昨天我吃了一只香蕉！Pooh! 接着的一天 今天散步的时候我碰到一棵卷心菜。 它躺在树篱的一角。残忍的男孩们用石头把它赶到了那里。 我把它捡起来的时候它已经死了。 它旁边是一个蛋。 它也死了。啊，我哭得多么伤心—— 今天早上 我的心跳得多厉害！一个男人走了过去。他走了过去，真的走了过去。 我从窗户看见他从园门边走过，去了河边那片草地，我心爱的楚普夫斯卡娅花就长在那里！ 他显得多英俊啊！没有阿利克西斯?阿利克索维奇那么高，啊，不！而是又矮又宽又圆——形状就像上个星期死去的那棵美丽的卷心菜。 他穿一件天鹅绒夹克衫，手拿一张野营折叠凳，背上背着一个画框，嘴上则叼着一个弯弯的长柄烟斗，他的脸不像阿利克西斯的那么红那么粗，而是又细腻又美丽，还挂着一丝像照在宝石打磨粉上的月光似的微笑。 我爱上他了吗？我说不清。还没有吧。爱是一株柔弱的植物。你不能强迫它生长。 他经过的时候，我俯身出窗并向他投去一个玫瑰花蕾。 但是他没有看见。 接着我又向他投去一块肥皂和一把牙刷。可我没有打中他，于是他往前走了。 another day 爱情已进入我的生活。它充满了我的生活。我再一次见到了他。我和他说了话。他在河边坐在折叠凳上。他坐在凳上，真是漂亮极了：他显得那么强壮，而他坐着的凳子是那么脆弱。 他面前放着那个画架，他正在作画哩。我对他说了话。 现在我知道他的名字了。 他名叫——写他的名字时我的心跳得多厉害啊——不，我不能写出来，我要悄悄把它说出来——他叫奥托?丁克尔斯皮尔。 难道这名字还不美吗？what! 他正在画布上作画——美丽的色彩，有红色、金色和白色，它们一条一条的，向四面八方涂开，那么辉煌，还发着乳白色的光哩。 我惊奇地看着它。 我本能地对他开了口。“你在画什么呀？”我问道，“画的是圣婴吗？” “不，”他说，“是一头奶牛！” 然后我再看了看，我可以看出那是一头奶牛。 我直视着他的眼睛。 “这将成为我们之间的秘密，”我说，“不要告诉任何别的人。” 我知道我爱上了他。 一个星期之后 每天早晨我都去河岸边的草地看奥托。 他坐在那儿作画，我则坐在一旁和他谈话，两只手握在膝盖边。我告诉他我所想的一切、所读的一切、所知道的一切、所感觉到的一切和感觉不到的一切。 他带着走神的表情听我说话，这说明他正在沉思，我已学会去爱这种神情，有时候他好像几乎就没在听。 我们之间的心灵交流是奇妙的。 我们互相激发对方的思想。 奥托是我的主人。我是他的弟子。 昨天我问他黑格尔或史莱格尔或威格尔是否道出了人牛的真谛。 他说他不知道！我的奥托！ 第六辑一个超级灵魂的伤心事(3) Nowadays 奥托碰了我！他碰了我！ 对此的回忆令我多么激动！ 我在河岸站在他旁边，我们谈话的时候，我的遮阳小花伞的把儿触碰了他的马夹最下面的扣子。 这好像一团火似的令我燃烧！ 明天我要带奥托去见我父亲。 但今晚除了回想奥托触碰了我，我没有其他任何心思。 接着的一天 奥托触了父亲！他为十个卢布触了他。我父亲大发雷霆。我不知道那意味着什么。 我刚把奥托带到了我们家，他和我父亲伊凡诺维奇谈了话。晚上他俩坐到了一起。可现在我父亲发怒了。他说奥托想找他借钱 他为什么要发怒呢？ 从此奥托被禁止来我们家，我只能到草地去见他了。 两天之后 今天奥托问我要信物。 我把我的帽针之一给他。可他说不行。他从我的腰带上取走了那个钻石扣。 我琢磨他的意思。 他的意思是，我对他的价值就像钻石对世俗之人的价值一样。 今天早上 昨天奥托问我要另一件信物。我从我袋里掏出一个金卢布，说应该把它分成两半，还说我们俩应每人半边。 但奥托说不行。我揣摩他的意思。把金币破开会破坏我们的爱情。 他要为我们俩珍藏它，它将永远像我们的爱情一样毫无破损。 这难道不是一个很美妙的想法吗？ 奥托是那么思想深邃。他的思想包罗一切。 今天他问我是否还有另一个金卢布。 接着的一天 今天我拿给了奥托另一个金卢布。 看到它的时候他双眼闪烁着爱意。 作为回应他给了我一个铜戈比。我们的爱将像黄金一样纯粹，像黄铜一样坚硬。 这难道不美吗？ 后来。 我真害怕阿利克西斯?阿利克索维奇会回来。 我害怕他要是回来的话奥托会杀了他。奥托是那么沉静，我不敢去想他要是被惹恼了会发生什么事。 接着的一天 我对奥托说了阿利克西斯的事。我告诉他阿利克西斯是个士兵，在沙皇的卫队里服役，还说了我已被许配给他的事。开头奥托不愿听我说。他生怕他的愤怒会胜过他的自制力。他开始叠他的折叠凳了。 然后我告诉他阿利克西斯一时间还回不来，于是他才变得平静一些。 我乞求他看在我的份上不要杀死阿利克西斯。他对我许下了诺言。 another day 我的父亲，伊凡?伊凡诺维奇收到了阿利克西斯的来信。他十四天之后回来。他回来的第二天我要和他结婚。 与此同时，我还有十四天可以爱奥托。 我的爱美满无缺。它使我想去死。昨天晚上我再一次试图自杀。既然我已经体会到美满的爱情，我为什么还要活下去呢？我把一盒子弹放在我床边。我醒过来时安然无恙。它们没有要我的命。但我明白这意味着什么。它意味着奥托要和我一起死。我必须告诉奥托。 后来。 今天我告诉奥托我们必须自杀，还告诉他既然我们的爱是如此美满，那我们就没有权力活下去。 开始他显得很不自在。 他建议说我应该先自杀，而他该在我的坟边饿死。 但我不能接受他的这种牺牲。 我转而提议由我帮他在海边上吊。 他要好好想一想。要是他不上吊，他就要开枪自杀。我已把我父亲的左轮手枪带给了他。接枪的时候他是那么感激。