第18章 密西西比河上的生活(1)

　　Life on the Mississippi

　　《密西西比河上的生活》是美国作家马克·吐温

　　的代表之作。在这篇小说中，作者描述了他在美国

　　南北战争前在密西西比河上的轮船上面当水手和领

　　航员的经历。这篇小说真实而生动地描写了密西西

　　比河上的生活。

　　[ 美] 马克·吐温 （ Mark Twain）

　　密西西比河上的生活

　　The Boys’Ambition

　　When I was a boy，there was but one permanent ambition

　　among my comrades in our village on the west bank of the

　　Mississippi River. That was，to be a steamboatman. We had

　　transient ambitions of other sorts，but they were only transient.

　　When a circus came and went，it left us all burning to

　　become clowns ；the first Negro minstrel show that came to our

　　section left us all suffering to try that kind of life ；now and then

　　we had a hope that if we lived and were good，God would permit

　　us to be pirates. These ambitions faded out，each in its turn ；but

　　the ambition to be a steamboatman always remained.

　　Once a day a cheap，gaudy packet arrived upward from St.

　　Louis，and another downward from Keokuk. Before these events，

　　the day was glorious with expectancy ；after them，the day was a

　　dead and empty thing. Not only the boys，but the whole village，

　　felt this. After all these years I can picture that old time to myself

　　now，just as it was then: the white town drowsing in the sunshine

　　of a summer’s morning ；the streets empty，or pretty nearly so ；

　　one or two clerks sitting in front of the Water Street stores，with

　　their splintbottomed chairs tilted back against the wall，chins on

　　breasts，hats slouched over their faces，asleep — with shingle

　　shavings enough around to show what broke them down ；a

　　sow and a litter of pigs loafing along the sidewalk，doing a good

　　business in watermelon rinds and seeds ；two or three lonely little

　　freight piles scattered about the levee ；a pile of skids on the slope

　　of the stonepaved wharf，and the fragrant town drunkard asleep

　　in the shadow of them ；two or three wood flats at the head of

　　the wharf，but nobody to listen to the peaceful lapping of the

　　wavelets against them ；the great Mississippi，the majestic，the

　　magnificent Mississippi，rolling its mile-wide tide along，shining in

　　the sun ；the dense forest away on the other side ；the point above

　　the town，and the point below，bounding the river-glimpse and

　　turning it into a sort of sea. and withal a very still and brilliant and

　　lonely one. Presently a film of dark smoke appears above one of

　　those remote points ；instantly a Negro drayman，famous for his

　　quick eye and prodigious voice，lifts up the cry“S-t-e-a-m-boat

　　acomin!”and the scene changes! The town drunkard stirs，the

　　clerks wake up，a furious clatter of drays follows ，every house

　　and store pours out a human contribution，and all in a twinkling

　　the dead town is alive and moving. Drays，carts，men，boys，all go

　　hurrying from many quarters to a common center，the wharf.

　　Assembled there，the people fasten their eyes upon the coming

　　boat as upon a wonder they are seeing for the first time. And the

　　boat is rather a handsome sight，too. She is long and sharp and

　　trim and pretty ；she has two tall，fancy-topped chimneys，with

　　a gilded device of some kind swung between them ；a fanciful

　　pilothouse，all glass and gingerbread，perched on top of the texas

　　deck behind them ；the paddleboxes are gorgeous with a picture

　　or with gilded rays above the boat’s name ；the boiler deck，the

　　hurricane deck，and the texas deck are fenced and ornamented

　　with clean white railings ；there is a flag gallantly flying from the

　　jackstaff ；the furnace doors are open and the fires glaring bravely ；

　　the upper decks are black with passengers ；the captain stands by

　　the big bell，calm，imposing，the envy of all ；great volumes of the

　　blackest smoke are rolling and tumbling out of the chimneys —

　　a husbanded grandeur created with a bit of pitch pine just before

　　arriving at a town ；the crew are grouped on the forecastle ；

　　the broad stage is run far out over the port bow，and an envied

　　deckhand stands picturesquely on the end of it with a coil of

　　rope in his hand ；the pent steam is screaming through the gauge

　　cocks ；the captain lifts his hand，a bell rings，the wheels stop ；

　　then they turn back，churning the water to foam，and the steamer

　　is at rest. Then such a scramble there is to get aboard，and to get

　　ashore，and to take in freight and to discharge freight，all at one

　　and the same time ；and such a yelling and cursing as the mates

　　facilitate it all with! Ten minutes later the steamer is under way

　　again，with no flag on the jack staff and no black smoke issuing