叛逃者(外研社双语读库)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)


发布时间:2020-08-11 20:42:45

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作者:[美] 杰克·伦敦(Jack London)

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叛逃者(外研社双语读库)

叛逃者(外研社双语读库)试读:

The Apostate叛逆者

"Now I wake me up to work;I pray the Lord I may not shirk. If I should die before the night,I pray the Lord my work's all right. Amen.”“现在我醒来去工作;上帝保佑我别懒惰。如果天黑前我已死去,上帝保佑我的活儿没问题。阿门。”

"If you don't git up, Johnny, I won't give you a bite to eat!”“约翰尼,你要再不起床,我就一点儿吃的也不给你了!”

The threat had no effect on the boy. He clung stubbornly to sleep, fighting for its oblivion as the dreamer fights for his dream. The boy's hands loosely clenched themselves, and he made feeble, spasmodic blows at the air. These blows were intended for his mother, but she betrayed practised familiarity in avoiding them as she shook him roughly by the shoulder. "Lemme 'lone!”

这种威胁对这个男孩子已经没有效果了。他依旧固执地睡着,为忘乎所以的沉睡而战,就像一个做梦者为了捍卫自己的梦而战一样。男孩的双手松松地握着,在空中无力地、间歇性地空打了几下子。这几下子本来是对着他母亲的,但是他母亲表现得训练有素,竟熟练地避开了,同时还用力地摇着他的肩膀。“别动我!”

It was a cry that began, muffled, in the deeps of sleep, that swiftly rushed upward, like a wail, into passionate belligerence, and that died away and sank down into an inarticulate whine. It was a bestial cry, as of a soul in torment, filled with infinite protest and pain.

这一叫喊声刚开始时是沉睡中的低声嘟囔,接着很快提高了声调,变成了激烈的反抗,像是一声哀号,最后渐渐停息,低沉下去,变成了含糊不清的呜咽。这声音简直就像野兽的嚎叫一样,正如一个受尽折磨的灵魂,充满了无尽的抗议和痛楚。

But she did not mind. She was a sad-eyed, tired-faced woman, and she had grown used to this task, which she repeated every day of her life. She got a grip on the bed-clothes and tried to strip them down; but the boy, ceasing his punching, clung to them desperately. In a huddle, at the foot of the bed, he still remained covered. Then she tried dragging the bedding to the floor. The boy opposed her. She braced herself. Hers was the superior weight, and the boy and bedding gave, the former instinctively following the latter in order to shelter against the chill of the room that bit into his body.

但是,她并不理睬。她眼神凄凉、脸色憔悴。对这件事她已经全然习惯了,在她的生活中每天如此。她抓住他的被子想把它拉下来,但是男孩子停止挥动拳头,拼命地抓紧了被子。他蜷着身子,缩在床脚,仍然盖着被子。接着,她试着把被子拖到地上。男孩与她抗衡着。她早有防备。她在体重上占了优势,男孩和被子让步了。孩子本能地随着被子移动,以免被房间里刺骨的寒气给冻着。

As he toppled on the edge of the bed it seemed that he must fall head-first to the floor. But consciousness fluttered up in him. He righted himself and for a moment perilously balanced. Then he struck the floor on his feet. On the instant his mother seized him by the shoulders and shook him. Again his fists struck out, this time with more force and directness. At the same time his eyes opened. She released him. He was awake.

他被拖到床边的时候,好像就要头冲下栽到地上了。可是苏醒的意识搅扰着他。他坐正了身子,摇摇欲坠地晃了一会儿才保持住平衡。接着,他一下子站到了地上。他的母亲立刻抓住他的肩膀摇晃他。他又一次挥起了拳头,这次劲儿更大,打得也更准了。与此同时,他的眼睛睁开了。她放开了他。他醒了。

"All right," he mumbled.“好了。”他咕哝着说。

She caught up the lamp and hurried out, leaving him in darkness.

她抓起油灯匆匆离开,把他丢在了黑暗里。

"You'll be docked," she warned back to him.“你会被扣钱的。”她扭过头警告他。

He did not mind the darkness. When he had got into his clothes, he went out into the kitchen. His tread was very heavy for so thin and light a boy. His legs dragged with their own weight, which seemed unreasonable because they were such skinny legs. He drew a broken-bottomed chair to the table.

他不在乎黑暗。他穿好衣服,走出房间,进了厨房。这样一个又瘦又轻的男孩,脚步却很沉重。他走路时双腿总是拖着步,似乎重得不合情理,因为这双腿是如此瘦骨嶙峋。他拉过一把坐垫破了的椅子,坐到桌子边。

"Johnny!" his mother called sharply.“约翰尼!”他母亲猛地喊道。

He arose as sharply from the chair, and, without a word, went to the sink. It was a greasy, filthy sink. A smell came up from the outlet. He took no notice of it. That a sink should smell was to him part of the natural order, just as it was a part of the natural order that the soap should be grimy with dish-water and hard to lather. Nor did he try very hard to make it lather. Several splashes of the cold water from the running faucet completed the function. He did not wash his teeth. For that matter he had never seen a tooth-brush, nor did he know that there existed beings in the world who were guilty of so great a foolishness as tooth washing.

他猛地站起来,一声不响地走到水槽边。那是个油腻、肮脏的水槽。排水口冒着一股子臭味。他对此并不在意。对他来说,水槽有臭味是其自身特征的一部分,正如被洗盘子的水弄脏的肥皂很难产生泡沫一样。他也不会费力去使那种肥皂起泡沫。他让水龙头里的冷水哗啦啦地冲洗了几下就完事了。他没有刷牙。实际上,他从来都没有见过牙刷。他也不知道世界上存在着要遭罪刷牙的愚蠢之极的人。

"You might wash yourself wunst a day without bein' told," his mother complained.“不用人告诉,你也该知道每天洗一次脸哪。”他母亲抱怨着。

She was holding a broken lid on the pot as she poured two cups of coffee. He made no remark, for this was a standing quarrel between them, and the one thing upon which his mother was hard as adamant. "Wunst" a day it was compulsory that he should wash his face. He dried himself on a greasy towel, damp and dirty and ragged, that left his face covered with shreds of lint.

她摁住壶上的破盖子倒了两杯咖啡。他没有说话,因为他们经常为这事吵起来,而且他母亲在这事上如硬石一样顽固。每天洗“一次”脸,这是他必须做的。他用一条油腻腻的、又湿又脏的破毛巾擦了擦脸,结果弄得脸上沾满了毛巾的碎线头。

"I wish we didn't live so far away," she said, as he sat down. "I try to do the best I can. You know that. But a dollar on the rent is such a savin', an' we've more room here. You know that.”“要是咱们住得没这么远该多好。”她说道,此时约翰尼坐了下来。“我尽我所能了。你知道的。可是省一块钱的房租也是个数目呢,而且这儿的房子也比较宽敞。你知道的。”

He scarcely followed her. He had heard it all before, many times. The range of her thought was limited, and she was ever harking back to the hardship worked upon them by living so far from the mills.

他几乎没有听她说。以前他听她讲过很多次了。她的思想范围很有限,她总是老生常谈,说他们之所以受苦就是因为他们住得离工厂太远了。

"A dollar means more grub," he remarked sententiously. "I'd sooner do the walkin' an' git the grub.”“省一块钱就多点儿吃的,”他言简意赅地说道,“我宁愿多走点儿路,好多弄点儿吃的。”

He ate hurriedly, half chewing the bread and washing the unmasticated chunks down with coffee. The hot and muddy liquid went by the name of coffee. Johnny thought it was coffee—and excellent coffee. That was one of the few of life's illusions that remained to him. He had never drunk real coffee in his life.

他急匆匆地吃着,只把面包嚼了几下就用咖啡把没嚼碎的面包块冲下去了。所谓的咖啡不过是一种热的、混浊的液体。约翰尼觉得这就是咖啡——而且是顶好的咖啡。那是他生活中残存的几个幻想之一。他这辈子就没有喝过真正的咖啡。

In addition to the bread, there was a small piece of cold pork. His mother refilled his cup with coffee. As he was finishing the bread, he began to watch if more was forthcoming. She intercepted his questioning glance.

除了面包之外,还有一小块冷的猪肉。母亲又给他斟满了一杯咖啡。当他快要吃完面包的时候,就开始观察是不是还有吃的。他询问的目光被她打断了。

"Now, don't be hoggish, Johnny," was her comment. "You've had your share. Your brothers an' sisters are smaller'n you.”“好啦,约翰尼,别像猪一样贪吃,”她说道,“你已经吃完你的那份了。你弟弟妹妹的饭可都比你少。”

He did not answer the rebuke. He was not much of a talker. Also, he ceased his hungry glancing for more. He was uncomplaining, with a patience that was as terrible as the school in which it had been learned. He finished his coffee, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and started to rise.

他没有回应母亲的指责。他不是个话多的人。而且,他已经不再如饥似渴地张望了。他从不埋怨,他的忍耐力跟教会他忍耐的那个学校一样可怕。喝完咖啡,他用手背抹了抹嘴,然后站了起来。

"Wait a second," she said hastily. "I guess the loaf kin stand you another slice—a thin un.”“等一下,”她匆匆地说,“我想这面包可以再给你切一片——一片薄的。”

There was legerdemain in her actions. With all the seeming of cutting a slice from the loaf for him, she put loaf and slice back in the bread box and conveyed to him one of her own two slices. She believed she had deceived him, but he had noted her sleight-of-hand. Nevertheless, he took the bread shamelessly. He had a philosophy that his mother, what of her chronic sickliness, was not much of an eater anyway.

她的动作跟变戏法一样。她好像从面包上切下了一片给他,但是接着她把面包和切下的那片放回了面包箱里,然后从她自己的两片面包里拿了一片给他。她以为骗过了他,其实他早看穿了她的花招。然而,他还是厚着脸皮拿过了那片面包。他有一套自己的见解,那就是不管他母亲的慢性病情况怎样,反正她是吃不多的。

She saw that he was chewing the bread dry, and reached over and emptied her coffee cup into his.

她看到他正干嚼面包,于是伸手把自己的那杯咖啡倒在了他的杯子里。

"Don't set good somehow on my stomach this morning," she explained.“今天早晨,我胃里好像不怎么舒服。”她解释道。

A distant whistle, prolonged and shrieking, brought both of them to their feet. She glanced at the tin alarm-clock on the shelf. The hands stood at half-past five. The rest of the factory world was just arousing from sleep. She drew a shawl about her shoulders, and on her head put a dingy hat, shapeless and ancient.

远处的汽笛拖长了调子尖叫着,这让他们都站起身来。她瞟了一眼架子上的铁皮闹钟。指针指向五点半。工厂区的其他人刚刚从睡眠中醒来。她拉过一条披肩披在肩上,头上戴了顶肮脏、走了形且很旧的帽子。

"We've got to run," she said, turning the wick of the lamp and blowing down the chimney.“我们得跑着了。”她一面说一面捻了捻灯芯,吹灭了玻璃灯罩里的火苗。

They groped their way out and down the stairs. It was clear and cold, and Johnny shivered at the first contact with the outside air. The stars had not yet begun to pale in the sky, and the city lay in blackness. Both Johnny and his mother shuffled their feet as they walked. There was no ambition in the leg muscles to swing the feet clear of the ground.

他们摸黑出了屋子,走下楼梯。天很晴,也很冷。约翰尼一到外面就冻得哆嗦了一下。天上的群星还没有开始泛白,城里一片漆黑。约翰尼和他母亲拖着步子走着。他们似乎都没有力气提起腿来走路。

After fifteen silent minutes, his mother turned off to the right.

默默地走了十五分钟后,母亲拐弯向右走去。

"Don't be late," was her final warning from out of the dark that was swallowing her up.“别晚了。”她最后告诫了一句,便被吞没在了夜幕之中。

He made no response, steadily keeping on his way. In the factory quarter, doors were opening everywhere, and he was soon one of a multitude that pressed onward through the dark. As he entered the factory gate the whistle blew again. He glanced at the east. Across a ragged sky-line of housetops a pale light was beginning to creep. This much he saw of the day as he turned his back upon it and joined his work gang.

他只顾着走自己的路,没有回应。在工厂区里,家家都在开门。不一会儿,他就随着一大群人匆匆地在黑暗中往前赶路。当他走进工厂大门的时候,汽笛声又响了。他朝东边瞟了一眼。房顶上参差不齐的天际边刚刚爬上了一抹淡淡的鱼肚白。每天他都看到这么一点点日光,然后便转身融入他的一帮工人中。

He took his place in one of many long rows of machines. Before him, above a bin filled with small bobbins, were large bobbins revolving rapidly. Upon these he wound the jute-twine of the small bobbins. The work was simple. All that was required was celerity. The small bobbins were emptied so rapidly, and there were so many large bobbins that did the emptying, that there were no idle moments.

他穿过长长的几排机器,走到了自己的位置上。他面前的箱子里装满了小线轴,箱子上是飞快旋转的大线轴。他的工作就是把小线轴上的纱缠到大线轴上去。这份工作很简单。只是要求速度要快。小线轴放线特别快,一会儿就放空了,而放空了线的大线轴又那么多,所以一点儿空闲的时间都没有。

He worked mechanically. When a small bobbin ran out, he used his left hand for a brake, stopping the large bobbin and at the same time, with thumb and forefinger, catching the flying end of twine. Also, at the same time, with his right hand, he caught up the loose twine-end of a small bobbin. These various acts with both hands were performed simultaneously and swiftly. Then there would come a flash of his hands as he looped the weaver's knot and released the bobbin. There was nothing difficult about weaver's knots. He once boasted he could tie them in his sleep. And for that matter, he sometimes did, toiling centuries long in a single night at tying an endless succession of weaver's knots.

他机械地工作着。每当小线轴的纱放光时,他就用左手当刹车,停住大线轴,同时用拇指和食指捏住飞出来的线头。与此同时,他用右手捏住小线轴上松了的线头。这一系列动作都是双手同时即刻完成的。接着,他手一闪,松开接好的线头,放开线轴。接纱头并不难。他曾经自夸说,自己睡着了也能接好纱头。而对于这个问题,有时候也的确如此。整个晚上,他都在睡梦里没完没了地接着纱头,仿佛辛苦了几百年。

Some of the boys shirked, wasting time and machinery by not replacing the small bobbins when they ran out. And there was an overseer to prevent this. He caught Johnny's neighbor at the trick, and boxed his ears.

有几个男孩子偷懒,小线轴放光了纱的时候也不换上新的,以此来消磨功夫、耗费机器。不过,有个监工会阻止这样的事情发生。他发现约翰尼旁边的那个孩子正在玩这种把戏,就马上给了他一记耳光。

"Look at Johnny there—why ain't you like him?" the overseer wrathfully demanded.“看看约翰尼——为什么你就不能像他一样呢?”监工怒气冲冲地责问着。

Johnny's bobbins were running full blast, but he did not thrill at the indirect praise. There had been a time...but that was long ago, very long ago. His apathetic face was expressionless as he listened to himself being held up as a shining example. He was the perfect worker. He knew that. He had been told so, often. It was a commonplace, and besides it didn't seem to mean anything to him any more. From the perfect worker he had evolved into the perfect machine. When his work went wrong, it was with him as with the machine, due to faulty material. It would have been as possible for a perfect nail-die to cut imperfect nails as for him to make a mistake.

约翰尼的线轴全速地旋转着,他并没有因为这一间接夸奖而感到兴奋。也曾经有过一段时间,他的确得意过——不过那是太久以前的事了。如今,当听到别人把自己当作光辉的榜样来说的时候,他冷冷的脸上也没有任何的表情。他是个完美的工人。这一点,他知道的。别人也常常跟他这样说。这不过是句再普通不过的话,而且对他来讲这话已经没有任何意义了。他已经从一个完美的工人进化成了一部完美的机器。如果他的活儿出了问题,那就跟机器犯毛病一样,是原料不好的原因。要是他出了什么差错,那就等于是一部完美的铸钉机器铸出了不合格的钉子一样。

And small wonder. There had never been a time when he had not been in intimate relationship with machines. Machinery had almost been bred into him, and at any rate he had been brought up on it. Twelve years before, there had been a small flutter of excitement in the loom room of this very mill. Johnny's mother had fainted. They stretched her out on the floor in the midst of the shrieking machines. A couple of elderly women were called from their looms. The foreman assisted. And in a few minutes there was one more soul in the loom room than had entered by the doors. It was Johnny, born with the pounding, crashing roar of the looms in his ears, drawing with his first breath the warm, moist air that was thick with flying lint. He had coughed that first day in order to rid his lungs of the lint; and for the same reason he had coughed ever since.

这一点儿都不稀奇。一直以来,他都跟机器有着密切的关系。机械装置几乎是已经植入了他的体内。至少,他是在机器上长大的。十二年前,就在这个工厂的织布车间里,曾经出现过一个小小的紧张场面。约翰尼的母亲晕倒了。他们把她平放在地上,置于轰鸣的机器中间。人们从织布车间里喊来了两个年纪大些的女人。工头也来帮忙。几分钟后,在织布车间里,在那些走进门的人群里就又多了一个人。那个人就是约翰尼,一生下来就听着织布机的轰鸣,呼吸着又湿又热的空气,空气中满是飘扬的飞花。为了把肺里的飞花排出来,他从出生的第一天起就开始咳嗽。也是因为这个缘故,他自此之后就一直咳嗽了。

The boy alongside of Johnny whimpered and sniffed. The boy's face was convulsed with hatred for the overseer who kept a threatening eye on him from a distance; but every bobbin was running full. The boy yelled terrible oaths into the whirling bobbins before him; but the sound did not carry half a dozen feet, the roaring of the room holding it in and containing it like a wall.

现在,约翰尼旁边的小孩抽抽噎噎地哭着。这个男孩子的脸抽搐着,满是对监工的仇恨。监工也在用威胁的眼光远远地盯着他,但是每一个线轴都在全速旋转着。孩子对着他面前旋转地线轴恶狠狠地咒骂着;但是车间里的轰鸣声吞没了他的声音,连六英尺外都是传不到的,就像是被墙挡住了一样。

Of all this Johnny took no notice. He had a way of accepting things. Besides, things grow monotonous by repetition, and this particular happening he had witnessed many times. It seemed to him as useless to oppose the overseer as to defy the will of a machine. Machines were made to go in certain ways and to perform certain tasks. It was the same with the overseer.

约翰尼根本没有注意这些。他自有一套接纳事物的方法。而且,事情若一再重复就会变得单调乏味,单就这件事来说,他就不知见了多少次了。他觉得反对监工是毫无用处的,正如反抗机器一样徒劳。机器被制造出来按特定的方式运转,就是用来完成特定任务的。监工也是一样。

But at eleven o'clock there was excitement in the room. In an apparently occult way the excitement instantly permeated everywhere. The one-legged boy who worked on the other side of Johnny bobbed swiftly across the floor to a bin truck that stood empty. Into this he dived out of sight, crutch and all. The superintendent of the mill was coming along, accompanied by a young man. He was well dressed and wore a starched shirt—a gentleman, in Johnny's classification of men, and also, "the Inspector."

但是十一点钟的时候,车间里一下子紧张了起来。这种紧张情绪显然很神秘地立刻就传遍了每一个角落。在约翰尼另一边工作的一个一条腿的男孩赶忙一跛一跛地跳过去,来到一个装箱子的手推车前,

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