Chapter 2

MY sister, Mrs Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbours because she had brought me up `by hand'. Having at that time to find out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband as well as upon me, I supposed that Joe Gargery and I were both brought up by hand.
She was not a good-looking woman, my sister; and I had a general impression that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand. Joe was a fair man, with curls of flaxen hair on each side of his smooth face, and with eyes of such a very undecided blue that they seemed to have somehow got mixed with their own whites. He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow - a sort of Hercules in strength, and also in weakness.

My sister, Mrs Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in front, that was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful merit in herself, and a strong reproach against Joe, that she wore this apron so much. Though I really see no reason why she should have worn it at all: or why, if she did wear it at all, she should not have taken it off, every day of her life.

Joe's forge adjoined our house, which was a wooden house, as many of the dwellings in our country were - most of them, at that time. When I ran home from the churchyard, the forge was shut up, and Joe was sitting alone in the kitchen. Joe and I being fellow-sufferers, and having confidences as such, Joe imparted a confidence to me, the moment I raised the latch of the door and peeped in at him opposite to it, sitting in the chimney corner.

`Mrs Joe has been out a dozen times, looking for you, Pip. And she's out now, making it a baker's dozen.'

`Is she?'

`Yes, Pip,' said Joe; `and what's worse, she's got Tickler with her.'

At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waistcoat round and round, and looked in great depression at the fire. Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by collision with my tickled frame.

`She sot down,' said Joe, `and she got up, and she made a grab at Tickler, and she Ram-paged out. That's what she did,' said Joe, slowly clearing the fire between the lower bars with the poker, and looking at it: `she Ram-paged out, Pip.'

`Has she been gone long, Joe?' I always treated him as a larger species of child, and as no more than my equal.

`Well,' said Joe, glancing up at the Dutch clock, `she's been on the Ram-page, this last spell, about five minutes, Pip. She's a coming! Get behind the door, old chap, and have the jack-towel betwixt you.'

I took the advice. My sister, Mrs Joe, throwing the door wide open, and finding an obstruction behind it, immediately divined the cause, and applied Tickler to its further investigation. She concluded by throwing me - I often served as a connubial missile - at Joe, who, glad to get hold of me on any terms, passed me on into the chimney and quietly fenced me up there with his great leg.

`Where have you been, you young monkey?' said Mrs Joe, stamping her foot. `Tell me directly what you've been doing to wear me away with fret and fright and worrit, or I'd have you out of that corner if you was fifty Pips, and he was five hundred Gargerys.'

`I have only been to the churchyard,' said I, from my stool, crying and rubbing myself.

`Churchyard!' repeated my sister. `If it warn't for me you'd have been to the churchyard long ago, and stayed there. Who brought you up by hand?'

`You did,' said I.

`And why did I do it, I should like to know?' exclaimed my sister.

I whimpered, `I don't know.'

`I don't! said my sister. `I'd never do it again! I know that. I may truly say I've never had this apron of mine off, since born you were. It's bad enough to be a blacksmith's wife (and him a Gargery) without being your mother.'

My thoughts strayed from that question as I looked disconsolately at the fire. For, the fugitive out on the marshes with the ironed leg, the mysterious young man, the file, the food, and the dreadful pledge I was under to commit a larceny on those sheltering premises, rose before me in the avenging coals.

`Hah!' said Mrs Joe, restoring Tickler to his station. `Churchyard, indeed! You may well say churchyard, you two.' One of us, by-the-bye, had not said it at all. `You'll drive me to the churchyard betwixt you, one of these days, and oh, a pr-r-recious pair you'd be without me!'

As she applied herself to set the tea-things, Joe peeped down at me over his leg, as if he were mentally casting me and himself up, and calculating what kind of pair we practically should make, under the grievous circumstances foreshadowed. After that, he sat feeling his right-side flaxen curls and whisker, and following Mrs Joe about with his blue eyes, as his manner always was at squally times.

My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread-and-butter for us, that never varied. First, with her left hand she jammed the loaf hard and fast against her bib - where it sometimes got a pin into it, and sometimes a needle, which we afterwards got into our mouths. Then she took some butter (not too much) on a knife and spread it on the loaf, in an apothecary kind of way, as if she were making a plaister - using both sides of the knife with a slapping dexterity, and trimming and moulding the butter off round the crust. Then, she gave the knife a final smart wipe on the edge of the plaister, and then sawed a very thick round off the loaf: which she finally, before separating from the loaf, hewed into two halves, of which Joe got one, and I the other.

On the present occasion, though I was hungry, I dared not eat my slice. I felt that I must have something in reserve for my dreadful acquaintance, and his ally the still more dreadful young man. I knew Mrs. Joe's housekeeping to be of the strictest kind, and that my larcenous researches might find nothing available in the safe. Therefore I resolved to put my hunk of bread-and-butter down the leg of my trousers.

The effort of resolution necessary to the achievement of this purpose, I found to be quite awful. It was as if I had to make up my mind to leap from the top of a high house, or plunge into a great depth of water. And it was made the more difficult by the unconscious Joe. In our already-mentioned freemasonry as fellow-sufferers, and in his good-natured companionship with me, it was our evening habit to compare the way we bit through out slices, by silently holding them up to each other's admiration now and then - which stimulated us to new exertions. To-night, Joe several times invited me, by the display of his fast-diminishing slice, to enter upon our usual friendly competition; but he found me, each time, with my yellow mug of tea on one knee, and my untouched bread-and-butter on the other. At last, I desperately considered that the thing I contemplated must be done, and that it had best be done in the least improbable manner consistent with the circumstances. I took advantage of a moment when Joe had just looked at me, and got my bread-and-butter down my leg.

Joe was evidently made uncomfortable by what he supposed to be my loss of appetite, and took a thoughtful bite out of his slice, which he didn't seem to enjoy. He turned it about in his mouth much longer than usual, pondering over it a good deal, and after all gulped it down like a pill. He was about to take another bite, and had just got his head on one side for a good purchase on it, when his eye fell on me, and he saw that my bread-and-butter was gone.

The wonder and consternation with which Joe stopped on the threshold of his bite and stared at me, were too evident to escape my sister's observation.

`What's the matter now?' said she, smartly, as she put down her cup.

`I say, you know!' muttered Joe, shaking his head at me in very serious remonstrance. `Pip, old chap! You'll do yourself a mischief. It'll stick somewhere. You can't have chawed it, Pip.'

`What's the matter now?' repeated my sister, more sharply than before.

`If you can cough any trifle on it up, Pip, I'd recommend you to do it,' said Joe, all aghast. `Manners is manners, but still your elth's your elth.'

By this time, my sister was quite desperate, so she pounced on Joe, and, taking him by the two whiskers, knocked his head for a little while against the wall behind him: while I sat in the corner, looking guiltily on.

`Now, perhaps you'll mention what's the matter,' said my sister, out of breath, `you staring great stuck pig.'

Joe looked at her in a helpless way; then took a helpless bite, and looked at me again.

`You know, Pip,' said Joe, solemnly, with his last bite in his cheek and speaking in a confidential voice, as if we two were quite alone, `you and me is always friends, and I'd be the last to tell upon you, any time. But such a--' he moved his chair and looked about the floor between us, and then again at me - `such a most oncommon Bolt as that!'

`Been bolting his food, has he?' cried my sister.

`You know, old chap,' said Joe, looking at me, and not at Mrs Joe, with his bite still in his cheek, `I Bolted, myself, when I was your age - frequent - and as a boy I've been among a many Bolters; but I never see your Bolting equal yet, Pip, and it's a mercy you ain't Bolted dead.'

My sister made a dive at me, and fished me up by the hair: saying nothing more than the awful words, `You come along and be dosed.'

Some medical beast had revived Tar-water in those days as a fine medicine, and Mrs Joe always kept a supply of it in the cupboard; having a belief in its virtues correspondent to its nastiness. At the best of times, so much of this elixir was administered to me as a choice restorative, that I was conscious of going about, smelling like a new fence. On this particular evening the urgency of my case demanded a pint of this mixture, which was poured down my throat, for my greater comfort, while Mrs Joe held my head under her arm, as a boot would be held in a boot-jack. Joe got off with half a pint; but was made to swallow that (much to his disturbance, as he sat slowly munching and meditating before the fire), `because he had a turn.' Judging from myself, I should say he certainly had a turn afterwards, if he had had none before.

Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy; but when, in the case of a boy, that secret burden co-operates with another secret burden down the leg of his trousers, it is (as I can testify) a great punishment. The guilty knowledge that I was going to rob Mrs Joe - I never thought I was going to rob Joe, for I never thought of any of the housekeeping property as his - united to the necessity of always keeping one hand on my bread-and-butter as I sat, or when I was ordered about the kitchen on any small errand, almost drove me out of my mind. Then, as the marsh winds made the fire glow and flare, I thought I heard the voice outside, of the man with the iron on his leg who had sworn me to secrecy, declaring that he couldn't and wouldn't starve until to-morrow, but must be fed now. At other times, I thought, What if the young man who was with so much difficulty restrained from imbruing his hands in me, should yield to a constitutional impatience, or should mistake the time, and should think himself accredited to my heart and liver to-night, instead of to-morrow!If ever anybody's hair stood on end with terror, mine must have done so then. But, perhaps, nobody's ever did?

I was Christmas Eve, and I had to stir the pudding for next day, with a copper-stick, from seven to eight by the Dutch clock. I tried it with the load upon my leg (and that made me think afresh of the man with the load on his leg), and found the tendency of exercise to bring the bread-and-butter out at my ankle, quite unmanageable. Happily, I slipped away, and deposited that part of my conscience in my garret bedroom.

`Hark!' said I, when I had done my stirring, and was taking a final warm in the chimney corner before being sent up to bed; `was that great guns, Joe?'

`Ah!' said Joe. `There's another conwict off.'

`What does that mean, Joe?' said I.

Mrs Joe, who always took explanations upon herself, said, snappishly, `Escaped. Escaped.' Administering the definition like Tar-water.

While Mrs Joe sat with her head bending over her needlework, I put my mouth into the forms of saying to Joe, `What's a convict?' Joe put his mouth into the forms of returning such a highly elaborate answer, that I could make out nothing of it but the single word `Pip.'

`There was a conwict off last night,' said Joe, aloud, `after sun-set-gun. And they fired warning of him. And now, it appears they're firing warning of another.'

`Who's firing?' said I.

`Drat that boy,' interposed my sister, frowning at me over her work, `what a questioner he is. Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies.'

I was not very polite to herself, I thought, to imply that I should be told lies by her, even if I did ask questions. But she never was polite, unless there was company.

At this point, Joe greatly augmented my curiosity by taking the utmost pains to open his mouth very wide, and to put it into the form of a word that looked to me like `sulks.' Therefore, I naturally pointed to Mrs Joe, and put my mouth into the form of saying `her?' But Joe wouldn't hear of that, at all, and again opened his mouth very wide, and shook the form of a most emphatic word out of it. But I could make nothing of the word.

`Mrs Joe,' said I, as a last resource, `I should like to know - if you wouldn't much mind - where the firing comes from?'

`Lord bless the boy!' exclaimed my sister, as if she didn't quite mean that, but rather the contrary. `From the Hulks!'

`Oh-h!' said I, looking at Joe. `Hulks!'

Joe gave a reproachful cough, as much as to say, `Well, I told you so.'

`And please what's Hulks?' said I.

`That's the way with this boy!' exclaimed my sister, pointing me out with her needle and thread, and shaking her head at me. `Answer him one question, and he'll ask you a dozen directly. Hulks are prison-ships, right 'cross th' meshes.' We always used that name for marshes, in our country.

`I wonder who's put into prison-ships, and why they're put there?' said I, in a general way, and with quiet desperation.

It was too much for Mrs Joe, who immediately rose. `I tell you what, young fellow,' said she, `I didn't bring you up by hand to badger people's lives out. It would be blame to me, and not praise, if I had. People are put in the Hulks because they murder, and because they rob, and forge, and do all sorts of bad; and they always begin by asking questions. Now, you get along to bed!'

I was never allowed a candle to light me to bed, and, as I went upstairs in the dark, with my head tingling - from Mrs Joe's thimble having played the tambourine upon it, to accompany her last words - I felt fearfully sensible of the great convenience that the Hulks were handy for me. I was clearly on my way there. I had begun by asking questions, and I was going to rob Mrs Joe.

Since that time, which is far enough away now, I have often thought that few people know what secrecy there is in the young, under terror. No matter how unreasonable the terror, so that it be terror. I was in mortal terror of the young man who wanted my heart and liver; I was in mortal terror of my interlocutor with the ironed leg; I was in mortal terror of myself, from whom an awful promise had been extracted; I had no hope of deliverance through my all-powerful sister, who repulsed me at every turn; I am afraid to think of what I might have done, on requirement, in the secrecy of my terror.

If I slept at all that night, it was only to imagine myself drifting down the river on a strong spring-tide, to the Hulks; a ghostly pirate calling out to me through a speaking-trumpet, as I passed the gibbet-station, that I had better come ashore and be hanged there at once, and not put it off. I was afraid to sleep, even if I had been inclined, for I knew that at the first faint dawn of morning I must rob the pantry. There was no doing it in the night, for there was no getting a light by easy friction then; to have got one, I must have struck it out of flint and steel, and have made a noise like the very pirate himself rattling his chains.

As soon as the great black velvet pall outside my little window was shot with grey, I got up and went down stairs; every board upon the way, and every crack in every board, calling after me, `Stop thief!' and `Get up, Mrs Joe!' In the pantry, which was far more abundantly supplied than usual, owing to the season, I was very much alarmed, by a hare hanging up by the heels, whom I rather thought I caught, when my back was half turned, winking. I had no time for verification, no time for selection, no time for anything, for I had no time to spare. I stole some bread, some rind of cheese, about half a jar of mincemeat (which I tied up in my pocket-handkerchief with my last night's slice), some brandy from a stone bottle (which I decanted into a glass bottle I had secretly used for making that intoxicating fluid, Spanish-liquorice-water, up in my room: diluting the stone bottle from a jug in the kitchen cupboard), a meat bone with very little on it, and a beautiful round compact pork pie. I was nearly going away without the pie, but I was tempted to mount upon a shelf, to look what it was that was put away so carefully in a covered earthen ware dish in a corner, and I found it was the pie, and I took it, in the hope that it was not intended for early use, and would not be missed for some time.

There was a door in the kitchen, communicating with the forge; I unlocked and unbolted that door, and got a file from among Joe's tools. Then, I put the fastenings as I had found them, opened the door at which I had entered when I ran home last night, shut it, and ran for the misty marshes.

 

我的姐姐乔·葛奇里夫人比我要年长二十多岁。她一直说我是由她一手带大的，因此在左邻右舍享有很大名气，倍受夸奖。从小我就想了解这里的“一手”究竟是什么含义。我所知道的她的手，是结实笨重而又冷酷严厉的，因为她特别喜欢把她的巴掌打在她丈夫的身上，当然也喜欢打在我的身上。我想乔·葛奇里和我就是这样由她一手带大的吧。

我的姐姐并不是一位标致的女人。我有一个总体的印象，她一定是想方设法才使乔·葛奇里娶她为妻的。乔是一位皮肤洁白的男士，两顿光滑，双鬓留着金色的鬈发，一双明眸发出淡蓝色的光，淡得几乎和眼自混成一体，难以分辨。他性情温和柔顺，心肠善良，脾气平和，平易近人。虽带有三分傻气，却是个极其可爱的人。在阳刚方面，他力大无比；在阴柔方面，他见了老婆就怕；真有点儿像赫尔克勒斯。

我的姐姐乔夫人生得一头的乌发，有一对乌黑的眼睛，皮肤却是一片红色。有时我不禁怀疑，她可能不用肥皂，而是用肉豆营蔻擦子擦洗皮肤的。她身材高大，身上几乎永远围着一条粗布围裙，用两个活结扎在她背后。她在胸部围了一条非常结实的围嘴儿，上面别满了别针和缝衣针。她成天围着围裙是为了显示她主持及操劳家务的伟大功绩，同时也以此为资本可以狠狠地责骂丈夫。不过，我看不出她有什么理由非围着围裙不可，即使要围围裙，也没有必要成天不离身。

乔的铁匠铺和我们的住房连在一起。我们的房子是木结构的，和我们乡下许多居民房屋一样，都是木屋。我从教堂墓地上气不接下气地跑回家时，铁匠铺已经打烊了，乔一个人正孤独地坐在厨房。乔和我在这个家庭中都是受气的沦落人，所以我们两个人便以诚相待，推心置腹。我打开门闩，把头伸进去一看，在火炉边上正坐着乔，因为火炉就对着门。

“你姐姐出去找你有十二次了，皮普，现在又出去找你，一共十三次了。”

“她去找我吗？”

“是去找你，皮普。”乔说道，“更糟的是她带着那根呵痒棍呢。”

听到这个令人沮丧的消息，我焦急地扭动着背心上仅剩的一颗钮扣，把它转来转去，带着灰心失望的情绪呆呆地望着炉火。呵痒棍是一根长棍棒，棍头上涂着蜡。这根棍子经常在我身上搔痒，早就被磨得滑溜溜的了。

乔告诉我：“她一会坐下来，一会站起来，然后一把抓起呵痒棍就疯狂地跑了出去。就是这些。”乔一面说着，一面漫不经心地拿起火钳拨人，双眼看着炉火。“皮普，她疯狂地跑出去了。”

“她已经去了很久了吗，乔？”我从来不把他当作大人看待。他只不过是个大孩子，和我身份没有两样，所以我说话也直来直往。

“嗯，”乔瞅着那座荷兰式自鸣钟说道，“她疯狂地奔出去，这最后一次去了有五分钟了，皮普。不好，她回来了！快躲到门背后去，老伙计，用那条长毛巾遮上你。”

我照乔的话做了。我的姐姐，乔夫人，猛地把屋门推开，一下子就看到门背后有个东西遮挡着，而且算出了是什么，于是伸出了呵痒棍去试探。她试探的结果便是把我拎起来扔向乔——我常常这样成了他们两人之间的飞箭——而乔则高高兴兴地接住了我，把我放在火炉旁边，伸出一条巨大的腿，悄悄地保护着我。

“你究竟到哪去了，你这个小皮猴子？”乔夫人跺着脚说道，“你老老实实告诉我你去干什么了，害得我着急、害怕、担心，把我累得要死。你要不说，小心我把你从角落里拎出来，就是五十个皮普，再加上五百个葛奇里也没用。”

“我只是到教堂墓地去了。”我坐在小凳子上哭着说，一面揉着疼痛的地方。

“教堂墓地！”我姐姐重复着这几个字，“要不是我照看你，怕你早埋进了教堂墓地，在那儿长眠了。我问你，谁把你一手带大的？”

“当然是你。”我赶忙答道。

“我为什么要把你一手带大，你倒说给我听听。”我姐姐大声吼道。

我轻轻啜泣着说：“我不知道。”

“你不知道！”我姐姐说道，“我再不想干这种事了！你说不知道，我倒知道。老实告诉你，自从你一出生，我这条围裙就没有离过身。做一个铁匠的老婆已经够糟了，何况又是一个葛奇里铁匠，还要做你的妈妈！”

我郁闷而又忧伤地望着炉火，思想早就开小差了，她的问话根本没有听进去。盘旋在我脑海中的是那个腿上缚着铁镣的逃犯、那个神秘的年轻人，还有锉子、吃的东西，以及我可怕的誓言。我不得不去做一次小偷，在我寄居的屋檐下去偷。炉火冒出复仇的火焰，使所有这一切东西都跳到我的眼前。

“嘿嘿！”乔夫人冷笑着，把呵痒棍放到原来的地方。“教堂墓地，好一个教堂墓地！你们两个人轮番说着教堂墓地。”其实在我们两个人中有一个人根本没有说过这个词。“你们两个人对我夹攻，想把我赶进坟墓。真的到了那一天，嘿，要是没有了我，看你们这对活——活宝怎么办！”

然后她便收拾茶具去了。这时乔从他的大腿下面偷偷地瞧着我，仿佛在心中考虑着我和他自己，算计着要是果然这个有严重后果的预言应验了，我们这对难兄难弟该如何是好。他坐在那里，抚摸着自己头右侧的淡黄色鬈发和胡子，淡蓝色的眼珠随着他夫人的走来走去而转来转去。凡遇到这类险恶形势时，他总是这般模样。

我姐姐给我们切面包、涂奶油，总是手脚麻利，十分轻快，而且动作一成不变。一开始，她先用左手把面包紧紧地压在她的围嘴上，自然，有时是一根别针，有时又是一根缝衣针扎进了面包，我们也就连针连面包都吃进嘴里。接着，她抹一些奶油在餐刀上，不多，就一点儿，然后再涂到面包上。她麻利得活像药房中的药剂师在做膏药，一把刀子在她手上运用自如，两面涂油，十分敏捷。薄薄的奶油均匀地涂在面包上，没有一处遗漏。然后，她用餐刀在膏药的边上做最后一次精心涂抹，结束后，从面包上切下厚厚的一片。在这片面包和整只面包完全分离之前，她加上一刀，把它一分为二，一块给乔，另一块给我。

当时我确实很饿，但是我不敢吃这一份面包。我想我一定要保留一些给那个可怕的朋友吃，还要留一些给他的伙伴，也就是那个更加可怕的年轻人。我知道我姐姐治家谨严，管理认真；我要想偷些什么，看来从食橱中是找不到的。所以，我决定把这一大厚片奶油面包放在裤脚管中。

要达到这个目的，必须要有决心，而且要努力才行。我发现这是很难的事。这就好像我必须下定决心从很高的屋顶上跳下来，或者跳进一片深水中。更加困难的是乔对这件事一无所知。前面曾提到过，我和乔两个同是这房屋中的沦落人，他心地善良，与我友好相处。在吃晚餐时，我们有个习惯，要比较一下吃面包的速度，不时地悄悄拿起所啃的面包比一下，并且相互会心地表示赞美。这样，我们啃面包就越啃越有劲。今天晚上，乔几次邀请我比赛，并且展示出他飞快吃剩下的一个小块。他要和我像往常一样进行友谊竞赛。但是，每一次他都看到在我的一只膝盖上放着我那只黄色的茶杯，在另一只膝盖上是我一口还没有咬过的奶油面包。最后，我不得不孤注一掷。我沉思的结果是这件事不能不做，而且要看准机会，于不知不觉中把它办好。于是，我看准了乔注视我后刚把头转过去的这一刹那，趁机把奶油面包装进了我的裤脚管。

乔以为我胃口不好不想吃，因此也感到无精打采，浑身不舒服。他心思沉重地从面包片上咬了一小口，似乎吃起来不得劲。一小口面包在他嘴里细磨慢嚼，比平常所用的时间要长得多。他边嚼边想，最后才像吃药丸一样把它吞下去，然后他准备咬第二口。就在这时，他的目光又落到我身上，突然发现我的奶油面包已经无影无踪。

乔感到惊诧，甚至有些愕然，一小口面包停在两排牙齿中间，眼睛直瞪瞪地望着我。这一切都逃不脱我姐姐那一双善于观察的眼睛。

“你怎么了？”她说着，声音中带着严厉，并且把手中的茶杯放了下来。

乔对我摇着头，用非常严肃的规劝口吻低低地对我说：“哎呀，你该懂！皮普，我的老伙计，你可是在和自己开玩笑！一嚼不嚼吞进去，会卡在什么地方的，皮普。”

我姐姐用比刚才更严厉的声音追问道：“究竟怎么回事？”

“你要是能把它咳出一点儿，皮鲁，我劝你还是咳出来好。”乔吓得已慌了手脚，不知道说什么是好。“礼仪固然是礼仪，你的身体也还是你的身体。要注意健康。”

这时我姐姐火气上来了，再也按捺不住，奔过来扑向乔，抓住他两颊的络腮胡子，把他的头在后墙上撞了好一段时间。我坐在墙角边，心中深感负疚，因为一切由我引起。

“好吧，你现在总可以说说究竟是怎么一回事了吧，”我姐姐急得气都透不过来了，“你这个瞪着眼的该千刀万刚的大肥猪。”

乔毫无办法地看了一看她，接着又毫无办法地咬了一口面包，然后又看了看我。

“皮普，你要懂得。’乔对我说，带着严肃的神情。他最后一口把面包全部塞进嘴巴，真心诚意地和我谈心里话，仿佛只有我们两人在这里似的。“你和我永远是情如手足的朋友，我绝不会做出告发你的事，任何时候都不会。不过，”他移动了一下椅子，在地上找了一阵，然后继续说道，“像你这次把它一口吞进去，真是太不寻常了。”

“他把面包，一口吞进去了，是不是？”我姐姐大声叫道。

“老伙计，我告诉你，”乔望着我说道，却没有望着他妻子，刚才吃进去的面包，还在嘴里没有咽进去，“我在你这个年纪时也和你一样，时常喜欢吞食。而且，我在孩子时就已经是一个吞食能手了。但是，我还没有见过一个可以和你相比的。皮普，你真走运，吞进这么一大块面包竟然没有死。”

我姐姐冲到我面前，一把抓住我的头发，像钓鱼似的把我拎了起来，一开口就把我的胆吓破了。她说：“你还不快过来，让我给你服一剂药。”

不知道是什么兽医把古代用的柏油水又当作了不起的万灵药复兴了。乔夫人把它当宝贝放在食橱中，作常备药。柏油水肮脏不堪，难以入口，正因为此，她的确相信它有治百病的功效。在最幸运的时候，这种药竟被当成了最上等的补品，要我大喝特喝，使我走到哪里都感到有一种味道，和新筑成的篱笆味差不多。何况今天是个特殊的夜晚，我发生了紧急病情，于是被逼喝了一品脱这种混合补剂。我姐姐为了使我喝得舒服、恢复得快，把我的头夹在她的胳肢窝下面，像用拔靴器拔靴子的架势，把柏油水灌进我的喉咙管里。乔也倒了霉，喝了半品脱，也是被逼得硬吞进去的。他本来坐在炉火前慢慢细嚼刚才吃进去的面包，同时漫不经意地思索着，而现在给弄得心烦意乱。他被逼吞药是因为“他刚才大吃了一惊”。其实我以为，刚才他并没有大吃一惊，而现在才是真正的吃惊不小。

良心，无论在谴责成人还是谴责儿童时，都是一件可怕的事。从良心谴责孩子这点来看，我可以作证。我的良心里有个秘密的负担，而裤脚管里又有另一个秘密的负担，两个秘密通力合作，这种良心的谴责，真是一个严重的处罚。一方面，我准备去偷乔夫人的东西，一想到它便有一种犯罪感。我从来不会想到去偷窃乔的东西，因为我认为家中的物品没有一件是他的。另一方面，无论我坐着，还是被派到厨房里干些小事情，我都要用手按住裤脚管里的奶油面包。这两方面加在一起几乎使我发狂。这时，沼泽地吹来的风把炉火吹得很旺，闪动着光芒。我仿佛听到从外面传来的声音，那个腿上带着镣铐的人的声音。他曾要我发誓保守秘密，而现在似乎正向我发话，说他饿极了，挨不到明天早晨，要我立刻给他送吃的东西去。一会儿，我又想到那个年轻人。那人花费了很大气力才阻止了这年轻人来挖我的心肝，可如果这年轻人饿得等不及了，或者搞错了时间，把明天当成今夜，那他马上就会来挖我的心肝五脏了！如果说世上真的有那种令人恐惧的事，把人们吓得头发倒竖，我的头发一定会倒竖起来。不过，也许世上根本就没有那么一回事。

这是圣诞节前夕，我不得不坐在荷兰自鸣钟旁边，拿一根钢棒搅拌明天要用的布丁原料，从七时揽到八时。我一面干活一面感到腿部的负担，同时联想到那个人腿部的负担。我不停地干着活，快把那块奶油面包从裤脚管中震荡出来了，简直无法控制。幸亏脱身的机会来了，我真想马上回到我的亭子间卧室去。

我结束了搅拌工作，趁还没有叫我去睡觉之机，在火炉旁边暖和自己的身体。我对乔说道：“乔，你听！是不是大炮声？”

“噢！”乔说道，“又逃走了一个万人。”

“你说什么，乔？”我问道。

乔夫人总是喜欢表现自己。现在，她又带点火气地说道：“有犯人逃跑了。”她说话的腔调真像给我灌柏油水一样。

乔夫人低头在干她的针线活儿，我便对乔用嘴做了几个口型，问他什么是犯人？乔也学我的样，回答了我，但他的口型相当复杂，我除了辨别出有一个“皮普”以外，其他意思怎么也猜不透。

过了一会儿，乔大声说道：“昨天傍晚，太阳落山以后，有一个万人逃走了，他们放炮通告他的逃走。现在放炮是通告又有一个万人逃走。”乔总是把“犯”人说成“万”人。

“谁在放炮？”我问道。

“你这小鬼真讨厌，”我姐姐从针线活上抬起面孔，对我皱起眉头，说，“没完没了地问。问多必失，问题问多了难免要受骗。”

我想我的姐姐也真不讲道理，即使我问题问得多一些，也不该像她所说的那样会受她的骗。不过她也无所谓，只要没有客人在场，她从来是不讲道理的。

就在这个时候，乔尽了最大努力把他的嘴巴张得很大，这便增强了我的好奇心，研究他口型所表示的词语。我看那很像是“发火”（sulks），所以当然地指着乔夫人，对乔张开嘴，“是指她吗？”但是乔根本没有理会我，又一次把嘴巴张得很大很大，把那个词强调得非常明显。可是，我完全猜不透这个词是什么。

我毫无办法可想，只有采取最后手段。我对姐姐说：“乔夫人，要是你不很介意的话，能不能告诉我，究竟是什么地方放炮？”

“愿主保佑你这个孩子！”我姐姐大声说道，“炮是监狱船（hulks）上放的。”她说得动听，要主来保佑我，其实她的意思正好相反。

“哦！”我这才明白了，于是望着乔说道，“监狱船！”

乔责备性地对我咳了一声，仿佛说他本来对我讲的就是监狱船嘛。

“可是我还想问，什么是监狱船呢？”我说道。

“这完全是个小孩子！”我姐姐一面摇着头，一面用她的针线指着我大声嚷道，“回答了他一个问题，他又要问十来个，真是得寸进尺。监狱船就是关犯人的船，这船就在‘沼’的对面。”我们这一带总是用“沼”这个词表示乡下的沼泽地。

“我真不知道监狱船里关什么人，更不知道为什么要把他们关进去。”我说时，特地装出一副平静的样子，以掩盖内心的焦急。

这下子惹恼了我的姐姐，她立刻火冒三丈地跳起来：“我给你讲过什么呢，你这个鬼东西？我一手把你带大，不是叫你总是逗着人玩。要是把你养成了烦人的人，我就得天天挨骂，谁还会说我好呢。把他们关进监狱船，因为他们杀人，因为他们抢劫，因为他们伪造物品，做各种各样的坏事，他们都是从小时候喜欢乱问开始学坏的。现在，你懂了吧，快去上床睡觉吧！”

我上床从来没有一支蜡烛照亮。现在，我摸着黑上楼梯，头上一阵阵刺痛，因为我姐姐在讲到最后的话时，用顶针顶在我头上，像摇小手鼓一样，使我感到钻心般的痛。她说的话使我非常害怕。监狱船就在附近，这给我被关进去大开方便之门。显然，我正走上这条路。我已经开始喜欢乱问，而且正准备去偷乔夫人的东西。

事情尽管已过去很久，但它时常亲绕着我的心，使我再三回味。世上究竟有几个人了解孩子心中的秘密，了解由于恐怖的袭击，会造成他什么样的心情。不管这类恐怖多么不近乎情理，对孩子一定会造成损伤。那个要挖出我心肝五脏的年轻人吓得我要死；和我交谈的那个腿上系着脚镣的人吓得我要死；我也被我自己吓得要死，因为我答应给他做事许下了可怕的誓言。我不能指望神通广大、无所不能的姐姐来救我。她只会把我拒之于门外，从来没有给过我帮助。现在我想起当年的心情还恐惧不安，一个孩子由于内在的恐怖真不知会干出什么。

那天夜里，只要我一闭上眼，就好像置身于汹涌澎湃的波涛上，朦朦胧胧地正向着监狱船漂荡而去；当我经过那个绞刑架时，一个阴森森幽灵般的海盗正手持喊话筒对我喊话，叫我快漂向海岸，上绞架去受刑，不要延误时机。当时就是想睡，我也不敢睡，因为第二天一早，天只要氵蒙氵蒙亮的时候，我就要到食品间去偷东西。黑夜里无法行窃，因为那个时候还没这么轻易地一擦就取到火的东西。要想取火，就必须用火刀火石，而那样就糟了，因为火刀火石碰撞出的声音和那个海盗身上嘎啦嘎啦的镣铐声相差无几。

我从房中的小窗看到外面一片黑丝绒般的天幕上泛出一丝灰光，赶忙从床上跳起，向楼下走去。每一块楼梯板、每一块楼梯板上的裂缝都似乎跟在我后面高叫，“抓贼，乔夫人快起来抓贼！”我到了食品间。哇；这么多好吃的东西，比平时多得多，真得谢谢圣诞节。就在我转过半边身子时，突然吓了一大跳，前面正倒悬着一只兔子，而且我想这死兔子正对我眨着眼。当时我根本来不及仔细辨认，来不及挑选，来不及过问任何一件事，因为我必须抓紧时间。我偷了一些面包、一些干酪皮、半盆碎肉，把这些和昨天的那块奶油面包一起包在一块手帕中；此外，我从石玉酒坛中偷了点白兰地，用小玻璃瓶装好，（这小玻璃瓶是我秘密收在房中，用来制造散发芳香的西班牙式甘草液的。）然后，我在厨房的食品橱里找到一个水壶，往石玉酒坛中注进一些水；我还拿了块上面已没有什么肉的骨头，以及一只又回又漂亮的猪肉馅饼。本来我不知道有馅饼，只是出于好奇心，爬上了架子去看边角上一只盖得严严实实的陶瓷盆。掀开来一瞧，原来是一块猪肉馅饼，当然，我也就带上了。我希望这块饼不是马上就要用的，也就不会马上发现被窃。

厨房里有一扇门通向铁匠铺。我先打开锁，再拉开闩，从乔的工具中拿了一把锉子。然后，我把一切都照原样弄好，打开昨天晚上跑回家时走的那扇门，出去后再关好，便向雾气迷氵蒙的沼泽地奔去。