when god laughs and other stories(当上帝发笑时)-第35节
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〃You have done your worst to me。 I am dying now。 In a week I
shall be dead； so it does not matter if you kill me now。〃
〃What do you with that？〃 the master asked； pointing to the arm； and
the slave made answer
〃I take it back to the pen to give it burial。 Tom Dixon was my friend。
We worked beside each other at our looms。〃
There is little more to my tale； brothers。 The slave and the arm were
sent back in a cart to the pen。 Nor were any of the slaves punished for
what they had done。 Indeed； Roger Vanderwater made investigation and
punished the two overseers； Joseph Clancy and Adolph Munster。 Their
freeholds were taken from them。 They were branded； each upon the
forehead； their right hands were cut off； and they were turned loose upon
the highway to wander and beg until they died。 And the fund was
managed rightfully thereafter for a timefor a time only； my brothers； for
after Roger Vanderwater came his son； Albert； who was a cruel master and
half mad。
Brothers； that slave who carried the arm into the presence of the
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WHEN GOD LAUGHS； AND OTHER STORIES
master was my father。 He was a brave man。 And even as his mother
secretly taught him to read； so did he teach me。 Because he died shortly
after from the pick…handle beating； Roger Vanderwater took me out of the
slave pen and tried to make various better things out of me。 I might have
become an overseer in Hell's Bottom； but I chose to become a story…teller；
wandering over the land and getting close to my brothers； the slaves；
everywhere。 And I tell you stories like this； secretly； knowing that you will
not betray me； for if you did； you know as well as I that my tongue will be
torn out and that I shall tell stories no more。 And my message is；
brothers； that there is a good time coming； when all will be well in the
world and there will be neither masters nor slaves。 But first you must
prepare for that good time by learning to read。 There is power in the
printed word。 And here am I to teach you to read； and as well there are
others to see that you get the books when I am gone along upon my way
the history books wherein you will learn about your masters； and learn to
become strong even as they。
＇EDITOR'S NOTE。From 〃Historical Fragments and Sketches；〃 first
published in fifty volumes in 4427； and now； after two hundred years；
because of its accuracy and value； edited and republished by the National
Committee on Historical Research。＇
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WHEN GOD LAUGHS； AND OTHER STORIES
A PIECE OF STEAK
With the last morsel of bread Tom King wiped his plate clean of the
last particle of flour gravy and chewed the resulting mouthful in a slow
and meditative way。 When he arose from the table； he was oppressed by
the feeling that he was distinctly hungry。 Yet he alone had eaten。 The
two children in the other room had been sent early to bed in order that in
sleep they might forget they had gone supperless。 His wife had touched
nothing； and had sat silently and watched him with solicitous eyes。 She
was a thin； worn woman of the working…class； though signs of an earlier
prettiness were not wanting in her face。 The flour for the gravy she had
borrowed from the neighbour across the hall The last two ha'pennies had
gone to buy the bread。
He sat down by the window on a rickety chair that protested under his
weight； and quite mechanically he put his pipe in his mouth and dipped
into the side pocket of his coat。 The absence of any tobacco made him
aware of his action； and； with a scowl for his forgetfulness； he put the pipe
away。 His movements were slow； almost hulking； as though he were
burdened by the heavy weight of his muscles。 He was a solid…bodied；
stolid…looking man； and his appearance did not suffer from being
overprepossessing。 His rough clothes were old and slouchy。 The
uppers of his shoes were too weak to carry the heavy re…soling that was
itself of no recent date。 And his cotton shirt； a cheap； two shilling affair；
showed a frayed collar and ineradicable paint stains。
But it was Tom King's face that advertised him unmistakably for what
he was。 It was the face of a typical prize…fighter； of one who had put in
long years of service in the squared ring and； by that means； developed
and emphasized all the marks of the fighting beast。 It was distinctly a
lowering countenance； and； that no feature of it might escape notice； it was
clean…shaven。 The lips were shapeless and constituted a mouth harsh to
excess； that was like a gash in his face。 The jaw was aggressive； brutal；
heavy。 The eyes； slow of movement and heavy…lidded； were almost
expressionless under the shaggy； indrawn brows。 Sheer animal that he
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WHEN GOD LAUGHS； AND OTHER STORIES
was； the eyes were the most animal…like feature about him。 They were
sleepy； lion…likethe eyes of a fighting animal。 The forehead slanted
quickly back to the hair； which； clipped close； showed every bump of a
villainous… looking head。 A nose twice broken and moulded variously by
countless blows； and a cauliflower ear； permanently swollen and distorted
to twice its size； completed his adornment； while the beard； fresh…shaven
as it was； sprouted in the skin and gave the face a blue…black stain。
Altogether； it was the face of a man to be afraid of in a dark alley or
lonely place。 And yet Tom King was not a criminal； nor had he ever
done anything criminal。 Outside of brawls； common to his walk in life；
he had harmed no one。 Nor had he ever been known to pick a quarrel。
He was a professional； and all the fighting brutishness of him was reserved
for his professional appearances。 Outside the ring he was slow…going；
easy… natured； and； in his younger days； when money was flush； too open…
handed for his own good。 He bore no grudges and had few enemies。
Fighting was a business with him。 In the ring he struck to hurt； struck to
maim； struck to destroy； but there was no animus in it。 It was a plain
business proposition。 Audiences assembled and paid for the spectacle of
men knocking each other out。 The winner took the big end of the purse。
When Tom King faced the Woolloomoolloo Gouger； twenty years before；
he knew that the Gouger's jaw was only four months healed after having
been broken in a Newcastle bout。 And he had played for that jaw and
broken it again in the ninth round； not because he bore the Gouger any ill…
will； but because that was the surest way to put the Gouger out and win the
big end of the purse。 Nor had the Gouger borne him any ill…will for it。 It
was the game； and both knew the game and played it。
Tom King had never been a talker； and he sat by the window； morosely
silent； staring at his hands。 The veins stood out on the backs of the hands；
large and swollen； and the knuckles； smashed and battered and malformed；
testified to the use to which they had been put。 He had never heard that a
man's life was the life of his arteries； but well he knew the meaning of
those big upstanding veins。 His heart had pumped too much blood
through them at top pressure。 They no longer did the work。 He had
stretched the elasticity out of them； and with their distension had passed
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his endurance。 He tired easily now。 No longer could he do a fast
twenty rounds； hammer and tongs； fight； fight； fight； from gong to gong；
with fierce rally on top of fierce rally； beaten to the ropes and in
