within the tides-第26节

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be　acceptable　should　have　been　transposed　to　somewhere　in　the　South



Seas。　　But　it　would　have　been　too　much　trouble　to　cook　it　for　the



consumption　of　magazine　readers。　　So　here　it　is　raw；　so　to　speak　…



just　as　it　was　told　to　me　…　but　unfortunately　robbed　of　the



striking　effect　of　the　narrator；　the　most　imposing　old　ruffian　that



ever　followed　the　unromantic　trade　of　master　stevedore　in　the　port



of　London。







Oct。　1910。



















THE　INN　OF　THE　TWO　WITCHES　…　A　FIND



















This　tale；　episode；　experience　…　call　it　how　you　will　…　was　related



in　the　fifties　of　the　last　century　by　a　man　who；　by　his　own



confession；　was　sixty　years　old　at　the　time。　　Sixty　is　not　a　bad



age　…　unless　in　perspective；　when　no　doubt　it　is　contemplated　by



the　majority　of　us　with　mixed　feelings。　　It　is　a　calm　age；　the　game



is　practically　over　by　then；　and　standing　aside　one　begins　to



remember　with　a　certain　vividness　what　a　fine　fellow　one　used　to



be。　　I　have　observed　that；　by　an　amiable　attention　of　Providence；



most　people　at　sixty　begin　to　take　a　romantic　view　of　themselves。



Their　very　failures　exhale　a　charm　of　peculiar　potency。　　And　indeed



the　hopes　of　the　future　are　a　fine　company　to　live　with；　exquisite



forms；　fascinating　if　you　like；　but　…　so　to　speak　…　naked；　stripped



for　a　run。　　The　robes　of　glamour　are　luckily　the　property　of　the



immovable　past　which；　without　them；　would　sit；　a　shivery　sort　of



thing；　under　the　gathering　shadows。







I　suppose　it　was　the　romanticism　of　growing　age　which　set　our　man



to　relate　his　experience　for　his　own　satisfaction　or　for　the　wonder



of　his　posterity。　　It　could　not　have　been　for　his　glory；　because



the　experience　was　simply　that　of　an　abominable　fright　…　terror　he



calls　it。　　You　would　have　guessed　that　the　relation　alluded　to　in



the　very　first　lines　was　in　writing。







This　writing　constitutes　the　Find　declared　in　the　sub…title。　　The



title　itself　is　my　own　contrivance；　（can't　call　it　invention）；　and



has　the　merit　of　veracity。　　We　will　be　concerned　with　an　inn　here。



As　to　the　witches　that's　merely　a　conventional　expression；　and　we



must　take　our　man's　word　for　it　that　it　fits　the　case。







The　Find　was　made　in　a　box　of　books　bought　in　London；　in　a　street



which　no　longer　exists；　from　a　second…hand　bookseller　in　the　last



stage　of　decay。　　As　to　the　books　themselves　they　were　at　least



twentieth…hand；　and　on　inspection　turned　out　not　worth　the　very



small　sum　of　money　I　disbursed。　　It　might　have　been　some



premonition　of　that　fact　which　made　me　say：　　〃But　I　must　have　the



box　too。〃　　The　decayed　bookseller　assented　by　the　careless；　tragic



gesture　of　a　man　already　doomed　to　extinction。







A　litter　of　loose　pages　at　the　bottom　of　the　box　excited　my



curiosity　but　faintly。　　The　close；　neat；　regular　handwriting　was



not　attractive　at　first　sight。　　But　in　one　place　the　statement　that



in　A。D。　1813　the　writer　was　twenty…two　years　old　caught　my　eye。



Two　and　twenty　is　an　interesting　age　in　which　one　is　easily



reckless　and　easily　frightened；　the　faculty　of　reflection　being



weak　and　the　power　of　imagination　strong。







In　another　place　the　phrase：　　〃At　night　we　stood　in　again；〃



arrested　my　languid　attention；　because　it　was　a　sea　phrase。　　〃Let's



see　what　it　is　all　about；〃　I　thought；　without　excitement。







Oh！　but　it　was　a　dull…faced　MS。；　each　line　resembling　every　other



line　in　their　close…set　and　regular　order。　　It　was　like　the　drone



of　a　monotonous　voice。　　A　treatise　on　sugar…refining　（the　dreariest



subject　I　can　think　of）　could　have　been　given　a　more　lively



appearance。　　〃In　A。D。　1813；　I　was　twenty…two　years　old；〃　he　begins



earnestly　and　goes　on　with　every　appearance　of　calm；　horrible



industry。　　Don't　imagine；　however；　that　there　is　anything　archaic



in　my　find。　　Diabolic　ingenuity　in　invention　though　as　old　as　the



world　is　by　no　means　a　lost　art。　　Look　at　the　telephones　for



shattering　the　little　peace　of　mind　given　to　us　in　this　world；　or



at　the　machine　guns　for　letting　with　dispatch　life　out　of　our



bodies。　　Now…a…days　any　blear…eyed　old　witch　if　only　strong　enough



to　turn　an　insignificant　little　handle　could　lay　low　a　hundred



young　men　of　twenty　in　the　twinkling　of　an　eye。







If　this　isn't　progress！　。　。　。　Why　immense！　　We　have　moved　on；　and



so　you　must　expect　to　meet　here　a　certain　naiveness　of　contrivance



and　simplicity　of　aim　appertaining　to　the　remote　epoch。　　And　of



course　no　motoring　tourist　can　hope　to　find　such　an　inn　anywhere；



now。　　This　one；　the　one　of　the　title；　was　situated　in　Spain。　　That



much　I　discovered　only　from　internal　evidence；　because　a　good　many



pages　of　that　relation　were　missing　…　perhaps　not　a　great



misfortune　after　all。　　The　writer　seemed　to　have　entered　into　a



most　elaborate　detail　of　the　why　and　wherefore　of　his　presence　on



that　coast　…　presumably　the　north　coast　of　Spain。　　His　experience



has　nothing　to　do　with　the　sea；　though。　　As　far　as　I　can　make　it



out；　he　was　an　officer　on　board　a　sloop…of…war。　　There's　nothing



strange　in　that。　　At　all　stages　of　the　long　Peninsular　campaign



many　of　our　men…of…war　of　the　smaller　kind　were　cruising　off　the



north　coast　of　Spain　…　as　risky　and　disagreeable　a　station　as　can



be　well　imagined。







It　looks　as　though　that　ship　of　his　had　had　some　special　service　to



perform。　　A　careful　explanation　of　all　the　circumstances　was　to　be



expected　from　our　man；　only；　as　I've　said；　some　of　his　pages　（good



tough　paper　too）　were　missing：　　gone　in　covers　for　jampots　or　in



wadding　for　the　fowling…pieces　of　his　irreverent　posterity。　　But　it



is　to　be　seen　clearly　that　communication　with　the　shore　and　even



the　sending　of　messengers　inland　was　part　of　her　service；　either　to



obtain　intelligence　from　or　to　transmit　orders　or　advice　to



patriotic　Spaniards；　guerilleros　or　secret　juntas　of　the　province。



Something　of　the　sort。　　All　this　can　be　only　inferred　from　the



preserved　scraps　of　his　conscientious　writing。







Next　we　come　upon　the　panegyric　of　a　very　fine　sailor；　a　member　of



the　ship's　company；　having　the　rating　of　the　captain's　coxswain。



He　was　known　on　board　as　Cuba　Tom；　not　because　he　was　Cuban



however；　he　was　indeed　the　best　type　of　a　genuine　British　tar　of



that　time；　and　a　man…of…war's　man　for　years。　　He　came　by　the　name



on　account　of　some　wonderful　adventures　he　had　in　that　island　in



his　young　days；　adventures　which　were　the　favourite　subject　of　the



yarns　he　was　in　the　habit　of　spinning　to　his　shipmates　of　an



evening　on　the　forecastle　head。　　He　was　intelligent；　very　strong；



and　of　proved　courage。　　Incidentally　we　are　told；　so　exact　is　our



narrator；　that　Tom　had　the　finest　pigtail　for　thickness　and　length



of　any　man　in　the　Navy。　　This　appendage；　much　cared　for　and



sheathed　tightly　in　a　porpoise　skin；　hung　half　way　down　his　broad



back　to　the　great　admiration　of　all　beholders　and　to　the　great　envy



of　some。







Our　young　officer　dwells　on　the　manly　qualities　of　Cuba　Tom　with



something　like　affection。　　This　sort　of　relation　between　officer



and　man　was　not　then　very　rare。　　A　youngster　on　joining　the　service



was　put　under　the　charge　of　a　trustworthy　seaman；　who　slung　his



first　hammock　for　him　and　often　later　on　became　a　sort　of　humble



friend　to　the　junior　officer。　　The　narrator　on　joining　the　sloop



had　found　this　man　on　board　after　some　years　of　separation。　　There



is　something　touching　in　the　warm　pleasure　he　remembers　and　records



at　this　meeting　with　the　professional　mentor　of　his　boyhood。







We　discover　then　that；　no　Spaniard　being　forthcoming　for　the



service；　this　worthy　seaman　with　the　unique　pigtail　and　a　very　high



character　for　courage　and　steadiness　had　been　selected　as　messenger



for　one　of　these　missions　inland　which　have　been　mentioned。　　His



preparations　were　not　elaborate。　　One　gloomy　autumn　morning　the



sloop　ran　close　to　a　shallow　cove　where　a　landing　could　be　made　on



that　iron…bound　shore。　　A　boat　was　lowered；　and　pulled　in　with　Tom



Corbin　（Cuba　Tom）　perched　in　the　bow；　and　our　young　man　（Mr。　Edgar



Byrne　was　his　name　on　this　earth　which　knows　him　no　more）　sitting



in　the　stern　sheets。







A　few　inhabitants　of　a　hamlet；　whose　grey　stone　houses　could　be



seen　a　hundred　yards　or　so　up　a　deep　ravine；　had　come　down　to　the



shore　and　watched　the　approach　of　the　boat。　　The　two　Englishmen



leaped　ashore。　　Either　from　dullness　or　astonishment　the　peasants



gave　no　greeting；　and　only　fell　back　in　silence。







Mr。　Byrne　had　made　up　his　mind　to　see　Tom　Corbin　started　fairly　on



his　way。　　He　looked　round　at　the　heavy　surprised　faces。







〃There　isn't　much　to　get　out　of　them；〃　he　said。　　〃Let　us　walk　up　to



the　village。　　There　will　be　a　wine　shop　for　sure　where　we　may　find



somebody　more