men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第19节
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Two hundred loads of elm and Scottish fir； Planking from Dantzig。 My！
What timber goes into a ship！ Tap！ Tap！ Two years they have seasoned
her ribs on the ways； Tapping； tapping。 You can hear； though there's
nothing where you gaze。 Through the fog down the reaches of the river；
The tapping goes on like heart…beats in a fever。 The church…bells chime
Hours and hours； Dropping days in showers。 Bang！ Rap！ Tap！ Go the
hammers all the time。 They have planked up her timbers And the nails are
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driven to the head； They have decked her over； And again； and again。 The
shoring…up beams shudder at the strain。 Black and blue breeches； Pigtails
bound and shining： Like ants crawling about； The hull swarms with
carpenters； running in and out。 Joiners； calkers； And they are all terrible
talkers。 Jem Wilson has been to sea and he tells some wonderful tales Of
whales； and spice islands； And pirates off the Barbary coast。 He boasts
magnificently； with his mouth full of nails。 Stephen Pibold has a tenor
voice； He shifts his quid of tobacco and sings： 〃The second in
command was blear…eyed Ned： While the surgeon his limb was
a…lopping； A nine…pounder came and smack went his head；
Pull away； pull away； pull away！ I say； Rare news for my Meg
of Wapping！〃 Every Sunday People come in crowds （After church…time； of
course） In curricles； and gigs； and wagons； And some have brought cold
chicken and flagons Of wine； And beer in stoppered jugs。 〃Dear！ Dear！
But I tell 'ee 'twill be a fine ship。 There's none finer in any of the slips at
Chatham。〃
The third Summer's roses have started in to blow； When the fine stern
carving is begun。 Flutings； and twinings； and long slow swirls； Bits of deal
shaved away to thin spiral curls。 Tap！ Tap！ A cornucopia is nailed into
place。 Rap…a…tap！ They are putting up a railing filigreed like Irish lace。
The Three Town's people never saw such grace。 And the paint on it！ The
richest gold leaf！ Why； the glitter when the sun is shining passes belief。
And that row of glass windows tipped toward the sky Are rubies and
carbuncles when the day is dry。 Oh； my！ Oh； my！ They have coppered
up the bottom； And the copper nails Stand about and sparkle in big
wooden pails。 Bang！ Clash！ Bang！ 〃And he swigg'd； and Nick
swigg'd； And Ben swigg'd； and Dick swigg'd； And I swigg'd；
and all of us swigg'd it； And swore there was nothing like grog。〃
It seems they sing； Even though coppering is not an easy thing。 What a
splendid specimen of humanity is a true British workman； Say the people
of the Three Towns； As they walk about the dockyard To the sound of the
evening church…bells。 And so artistic； too； each one tells his neighbour。
What immense taste and labour！ Miss Jessie Prime； in a pink silk bonnet；
Titters with delight as her eyes fall upon it； When she steps lightly down
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from Lawyer Green's whisky； Such amazing beauty makes one feel frisky；
She explains。 Mr。 Nichols says he is delighted （He is the firm）； His work is
all requited If Miss Jessie can approve。 Miss Jessie answers that the ship is
〃a love〃。 The sides are yellow as marigold； The port…lids are red when the
ports are up： Blood…red squares like an even chequer Of yellow asters and
portulaca。 There is a wide 〃black strake〃 at the waterline And above is a
blue like the sky when the weather is fine。 The inner bulwarks are painted
red。 〃Why？〃 asks Miss Jessie。 〃'Tis a horrid note。〃 Mr。 Nichols clears his
throat； And tells her the launching day is set。 He says； 〃Be careful； the
paint is wet。〃 But Miss Jessie has touched it； her sprigged muslin gown
Has a blood…red streak from the shoulder down。 〃It looks like blood；〃 says
Miss Jessie with a frown。
Tap！ Tap！ Rap！ An October day； with waves running in blue…white
lines and a capful of wind。 Three broad flags ripple out behind Where the
masts will be： Royal Standard at the main； Admiralty flag at the fore；
Union Jack at the mizzen。 The hammers tap harder； faster； They must
finish by noon。 The last nail is driven。 But the wind has increased to half a
gale； And the ship shakes and quivers upon the ways。 The Commissioner
of Chatham Dockyard is coming In his ten…oared barge from the King's
Stairs； The Marine's band will play 〃God Save Great George Our King〃；
And there is to be a dinner afterwards at the Crown； with speeches。 The
wind screeches； and flaps the flags till they pound like hammers。 The wind
hums over the ship； And slips round the dog…shores； Jostling them almost
to falling。 There is no time now to wait for Commissioners and marine
bands。 Mr。 Nichols has a bottle of port in his hands。 He leans over； holding
his hat； and shouts to the men below： 〃Let her go！〃 Bang！ Bang！
Pound！ The dog…shores fall to the ground； And the ship slides down the
greased planking。 A splintering of glass； And port wine running all over
the white and copper stem timbers。 〃Success to his Majesty's ship； the
Bellerophon！〃 And the red wine washes away in the waters of the
Medway。
II
Paris； March； 1814
Fine yellow sunlight down the rue du Mont Thabor。 Ten o'clock
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striking from all the clock…towers of Paris。 Over the door of a shop； in gilt
letters： 〃Martin Parfumeur〃； and something more。 A large gilded
wooden something。 Listen！ What a ringing of hammers！ Tap！ Tap！
Squeak！ Tap！ Squeak！ Tap…a…tap！ 〃Blaise。〃 〃Oui； M'sieu。〃 〃Don't touch
the letters。 My name stays。〃 〃Bien； M'sieu。〃 〃Just take down the eagle；
and the shield with the bees。〃 〃As M'sieu pleases。〃 Tap！ Squeak！ Tap！
The man on the ladder hammers steadily for a minute or two； Then stops。
〃He！ Patron！ They are fastened well； Nom d'un Chien！ What if I break
them？〃 〃Break away； You and Paul must have them down to…day。〃 〃Bien。〃
And the hammers start again； Drum…beating at the something of gilded
wood。 Sunshine in a golden flood Lighting up the yellow fronts of houses；
Glittering each window to a flash。 Squeak！ Squeak！ Tap！ The hammers
beat and rap。 A Prussian hussar on a grey horse goes by at a dash。 From
other shops； the noise of striking blows： Pounds； thumps； and whacks；
Wooden sounds： splinters cracks。 Paris is full of the galloping of
horses and the knocking of hammers。 〃Hullo！ Friend Martin； is business
slack That you are in the street this morning？ Don't turn your back And
scuttle into your shop like a rabbit to its hole。 I've just been taking a stroll。
The stinking Cossacks are bivouacked all up and down the Champs
Elysees。 I can't get the smell of them out of my nostrils。 Dirty fellows；
who don't believe in frills Like washing。 Ah； mon vieux； you'd have to
go Out of business if you lived in Russia。 So！ We've given up being
perfumers to the Emperor； have we？ Blaise； Be careful of the hen； Maybe
I can find a use for her one of these days。 That eagle's rather well cut；
Martin。 But I'm sick of smelling Cossack； Take me inside and let me put
my head into a stack Of orris…root and musk。〃 Within the shop； the light is
dimmed to a pearl…and…green dusk Out of which dreamily sparkle counters
and shelves of glass； Containing phials； and bowls； and jars； and dishes； a
mass Of aqueous transparence made solid by threads of gold。 Gold and
glass； And scents which whiff across the green twilight and pass。 The
perfumer sits down and shakes his head： 〃Always the same； Monsieur
Antoine；
