【英文短篇小说】The Birds(4)
时间:2019-01-23 作者:英语课 分类:英文短篇小说
英语课
Amid the scratching and tearing at the window boards came the sudden homely 1 striking of the kitchen clock. Three A.M. A little more than four hours yet to go. He could not be sure of the exact time of high water. He reckoned it would not turn much before half past seven, twenty to eight.
“Light up the Primus,” he said to his wife. “Make us some tea, and the kids some cocoa. No use sitting around doing nothing.”
That was the line. Keep her busy, and the children too. Move about, eat, drink; always best to be on the go.
He waited by the range. The flames were dying. But no more blackened bodies fell from the chimney.
He thrust his poker 2 up as far as it could go and found nothing. It was clear. The chimney was clear. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Come on now, Jill,” he said, “bring me some more sticks. We’ll have a good fire going directly.” She wouldn’t come near him, though. She was staring at the heaped singed 3 bodies of the birds.
“Never mind them,” he said. “We’ll put those in the passage when I’ve got the fire steady.”
The danger of the chimney was over. It could not happen again, not if the fire was kept burning day and night.
“I’ll have to get more fuel from the farm tomorrow,” he thought. “This will never last. I’ll manage, though. I can do all that with the ebb 4 tide. It can be worked, fetching what we need, when the tide’s turned. We’ve just got to adapt ourselves, that’s all.”
They drank tea and cocoa and ate slices of bread and Bovril. Only half a loaf left, Nat noticed. Never mind, though, they’d get by.
“Stop it,” said young Johnny, pointing to the windows with his spoon, “stop it, you old birds.”
“That’s right,” said Nat, smiling, “we don’t want the old beggars, do we? Had enough of ’em.”
They began to cheer when they heard the thud of the suicide birds.
“There’s another, Dad,” cried Jill. “He’s done for.”
“He’s had it,” said Nat. “There he goes, the blighter.”
This was the way to face up to it. This was the spirit. If they could keep this up, hang on like this until seven, when the first news bulletin came through, they would not have done too badly.
“Give us a cigarette,” he said to his wife. “A bit of a smoke will clear away the smell of the scorched 5 feathers.”
“There’s only two left in the packet,” she said. “I was going to buy you some from the co-op.”
“I’ll have one,” he said, “t’other will keep for a rainy day.”
No sense trying to make the children rest. There was no rest to be got while the tapping and the scratching went on at the windows. He sat with one arm round his wife and the other round Jill, with Johnny on his mother’s lap and the blankets heaped about them on the mattress 6.
“You can’t help admiring the beggars,” he said; “they’ve got persistence 7. You’d think they’d tire of the game, but not a bit of it.”
Admiration 8 was hard to sustain. The tapping went on and on and a new rasping note struck Nat’s ear, as though a sharper beak 9 than any hitherto had come to take over from its fellows. He tried to remember the names of birds; he tried to think which species would go for this particular job. It was not the tap of the woodpecker. That would be light and frequent. This was more serious because if it continued long the wood would splinter, as the glass had done. Then he remembered the hawks 10. Could the hawks have taken over from the gulls 11? Were there buzzards now upon the sills, using talons 12 as well as beaks 13? Hawks, buzzards, kestrels, falcons—he had forgotten the birds of prey 14. He had forgotten the gripping power of the birds of prey. Three hours to go, and while they waited, the sound of the splintering wood, the talons tearing at the wood.
Nat looked about him, seeing what furniture he could destroy to fortify 15 the door. The windows were safe because of the dresser. He was not certain of the door. He went upstairs, but when he reached the landing he paused and listened. There was a soft patter on the floor of the children’s bedroom. The birds had broken through. . . . He put his ear to the door. No mistake. He could hear the rustle 16 of wings and the light patter as they searched the floor. The other bedroom was still clear. He went into it and began bringing out the furniture, to pile at the head of the stairs should the door of the children’s bedroom go. It was a preparation. It might never be needed. He could not stack the furniture against the door, because it opened inward. The only possible thing was to have it at the top of the stairs.
“Come down, Nat, what are you doing?” called his wife.
“I won’t be long,” he shouted. “Just making everything shipshape up here.”
He did not want her to come; he did not want her to hear the pattering of the feet in the children’s bedroom, the brushing of those wings against the door.
At five-thirty he suggested breakfast, bacon and fried bread, if only to stop the growing look of panic in his wife’s eyes and to calm the fretful children. She did not know about the birds upstairs. The bedroom, luckily, was not over the kitchen. Had it been so, she could not have failed to hear the sound of them up there, tapping the boards. And the silly, senseless thud of the suicide birds, the death and glory boys, who flew into the bedroom, smashing their heads against the walls. He knew them of old, the herring gulls. They had no brains. The black-backs were different; they knew what they were doing. So did the buzzards, the hawks. . . .
He found himself watching the clock, gazing at the hands that went so slowly round the dial. If his theory was not correct, if the attack did not cease with the turn of the tide, he knew they were beaten. They could not continue through the long day without air, without rest, without more fuel, without . . . His mind raced. He knew there were so many things they needed to withstand siege. They were not fully 17 prepared. They were not ready. It might be that it would be safer in the towns, after all. If he could get a message through on the farm telephone to his cousin, only a short journey by train upcountry, they might be able to hire a car. That would be quicker—hire a car between tides . . .
His wife’s voice, calling his name, drove away the sudden, desperate desire for sleep.
“What is it? What now?” he said sharply.
“The wireless 18,” said his wife. “I’ve been watching the clock. It’s nearly seven.”
“Don’t twist the knob,” he said, impatient for the first time. “It’s on the Home where it is. They’ll speak from the Home.”
They waited. The kitchen clock struck seven. There was no sound. No chimes, no music. They waited until a quarter past, switching to the Light. The result was the same. No news bulletin came through.
“We’ve heard wrong,” he said. “They won’t be broadcasting until eight o’clock.”
They left it switched on, and Nat thought of the battery, wondered how much power was left in it. It was generally recharged when his wife went shopping in the town. If the battery failed, they would not hear the instructions.
“It’s getting light,” whispered his wife. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it. And the birds aren’t hammering so loud.”
She was right. The rasping, tearing sound grew fainter every moment. So did the shuffling 19, the jostling for place upon the step, upon the sills. The tide was on the turn. By eight there was no sound at all. Only the wind. The children, lulled 21 at last by the stillness, fell asleep. At half past eight Nat switched the wireless off.
“What are you doing? We’ll miss the news,” said his wife.
“There isn’t going to be any news,” said Nat. “We’ve got to depend upon ourselves.”
He went to the door and slowly pulled away the barricades 23. He drew the bolts and, kicking the bodies from the step outside the door, breathed the cold air. He had six working hours before him, and he knew he must reserve his strength for the right things, not waste it in any way. Food and light and fuel; these were the necessary things. If he could get them in sufficiency, they could endure another night.
He stepped into the garden, and as he did so he saw the living birds. The gulls had gone to ride the sea, as they had done before; they sought sea food and the buoyancy of the tide, before they returned to the attack. Not so the land birds. They waited and watched. Nat saw them, on the hedgerows, on the soil, crowded in the trees, outside in the field, line upon line of birds, all still, doing nothing.
He went to the end of his small garden. The birds did not move. They went on watching him.
“I’ve got to get food,” said Nat to himself. “I’ve got to go to the farm to find food.”
He went back to the cottage. He saw to the windows and the doors. He went upstairs and opened the children’s bedroom. It was empty, except for the dead birds on the floor. The living were out there, in the garden, in the fields. He went downstairs.
“I’m going to the farm,” he said.
His wife clung to him. She had seen the living birds from the open door.
“Take us with you,” she begged. “We can’t stay here alone. I’d rather die than stay here alone.”
He considered the matter. He nodded.
“Come on, then,” he said. “Bring baskets, and Johnny’s pram 24. We can load up the pram.”
They dressed against the biting wind, wore gloves and scarves. His wife put Johnny in the pram. Nat took Jill’s hand.
“The birds,” she whimpered, “they’re all out there in the fields.”
“They won’t hurt us,” he said, “not in the light.”
They started walking across the field toward the stile, and the birds did not move. They waited, their heads turned to the wind.
When they reached the turning to the farm, Nat stopped and told his wife to wait in the shelter of the hedge with the two children.
“But I want to see Mrs. Trigg,” she protested. “There are lots of things we can borrow if they went to market yesterday; not only bread, and . . .”
“Wait here,” Nat interrupted. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
The cows were lowing, moving restlessly in the yard, and he could see a gap in the fence where the sheep had knocked their way through, to roam unchecked in the front garden before the farmhouse 25. No smoke came from the chimneys. He was filled with misgiving 26. He did not want his wife or the children to go down to the farm.
“Don’t gib now,” said Nat, harshly. “Do what I say.”
She withdrew with the pram into the hedge, screening herself and the children from the wind.
He went down alone to the farm. He pushed his way through the herd 27 of bellowing 28 cows, which turned this way and that, distressed 29, their udders full. He saw the car standing 30 by the gate, not put away in the garage. The windows of the farmhouse were smashed. There were many dead gulls lying in the yard and around the house. The living birds perched on the group of trees behind the farm and on the roof of the house. They were quite still. They watched him.
Jim’s body lay in the yard . . . what was left of it. When the birds had finished, the cows had trampled 31 him. His gun was beside him. The door of the house was shut and bolted, but, as the windows were smashed, it was easy to lift them and climb through. Trigg’s body was close to the telephone. He must have been trying to get through to the exchange when the birds came for him. The receiver was hanging loose, the instrument torn from the wall. No sign of Mrs. Trigg. She would be upstairs. Was it any use going up? Sickened, Nat knew what he would find.
“Thank God,” he said to himself, “there were no children.”
He forced himself to climb the stairs, but halfway 32 he turned and descended 33 again. He could see her legs protruding 34 from the open bedroom door. Beside her were the bodies of the black-backed gulls and an umbrella, broken.
“It’s no use,” thought Nat, “doing anything. I’ve only got five hours, less than that. The Triggs would understand. I must load up with what I can find.”
He tramped back to his wife and children.
“I’m going to fill up the car with stuff,” he said. “I’ll put coal in it, and paraffin for the Primus. We’ll take it home and return for a fresh load.”
“What about the Triggs?” asked his wife.
“They must have gone to friends,” he said.
“Shall I come and help you, then?”
“No; there’s a mess down there. Cows and sheep all over the place. Wait, I’ll get the car. You can sit in it.”
Clumsily he backed the car out of the yard and into the lane. His wife and the children could not see Jim’s body from there.
“Stay here,” he said, “never mind the pram. The pram can be fetched later. I’m going to load the car.”
Her eyes watched his all the time. He believed she understood; otherwise she would have suggested helping 35 him to find the bread and groceries.
They made three journeys altogether, backward and forward between their cottage and the farm, before he was satisfied they had everything they needed. It was surprising, once he started thinking, how many things were necessary. Almost the most important of all was planking for the windows. He had to go round searching for timber. He wanted to renew the boards on all the windows at the cottage. Candles, paraffin, nails, tinned stuff; the list was endless. Besides all that, he milked three of the cows. The rest, poor brutes 36, would have to go on bellowing.
On the final journey he drove the car to the bus stop, got out, and went to the telephone box. He waited a few minutes, jangling the receiver. No good though. The line was dead. He climbed onto a bank and looked over the countryside, but there was no sign of life at all, nothing in the fields but the waiting, watching birds. Some of them slept—he could see the beaks tucked into the feathers.
“You’d think they’d be feeding,” he said to himself, “not just standing in that way.”
Then he remembered. They were gorged 37 with food. They had eaten their fill during the night. That was why they did not move this morning. . . .
No smoke came from the chimneys of the council houses. He thought of the children who had run across the fields the night before.
“I should have known,” he thought; “I ought to have taken them home with me.”
He lifted his face to the sky. It was colorless and gray. The bare trees on the landscape looked bent 38 and blackened by the east wind. The cold did not affect the living birds waiting out there in the fields.
“This is the time they ought to get them,” said Nat; “they’re a sitting target now. They must be doing this all over the country. Why don’t our aircraft take off now and spray them with mustard gas? What are all our chaps doing? They must know; they must see for themselves.”
He went back to the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“Go quickly past that second gate,” whispered his wife. “The postman’s lying there. I don’t want Jill to see.”
He accelerated. The little Morris bumped and rattled 39 along the lane. The children shrieked 40 with laughter.
“Up-a-down, up-a-down,” shouted young Johnny.
It was a quarter to one by the time they reached the cottage. Only an hour to go.
“Better have cold dinner,” said Nat. “Hot up something for yourself and the children, some of that soup.
I’ve no time to eat now. I’ve got to unload all this stuff.”
He got everything inside the cottage. It could be sorted later. Give them all something to do during the long hours ahead. First he must see to the windows and the doors.
He went round the cottage methodically, testing every window, every door. He climbed onto the roof also, and fixed 41 boards across every chimney except the kitchen. The cold was so intense he could hardly bear it, but the job had to be done. Now and again he would look up, searching the sky for aircraft. None came. As he worked he cursed the inefficiency 42 of the authorities.
“It’s always the same,” he muttered. “They always let us down. Muddle 43, muddle, from the start. No plan, no real organization. And we don’t matter down here. That’s what it is. The people upcountry have priority. They’re using gas up there, no doubt, and all the aircraft. We’ve got to wait and take what comes.”
He paused, his work on the bedroom chimney finished, and looked out to sea. Something was moving out there. Something gray and white amongst the breakers.
“Good old Navy,” he said, “they never let us down. They’re coming down-channel; they’re turning in the bay.”
He waited, straining his eyes, watering in the wind, toward the sea. He was wrong, though. It was not ships. The Navy was not there. The gulls were rising from the sea. The massed flocks in the fields, with ruffled 44 feathers, rose in formation from the ground and, wing to wing, soared upward to the sky.
The tide had turned again.
Nat climbed down the ladder and went inside the kitchen. The family were at dinner. It was a little after two. He bolted the door, put up the barricade 22, and lit the lamp.
“It’s nighttime,” said young Johnny.
His wife had switched on the wireless once again, but no sound came from it.
“I’ve been all round the dial,” she said, “foreign stations, and that lot. I can’t get anything.”
“Maybe they have the same trouble,” he said, “maybe it’s the same right through Europe.”
She poured out a plateful of the Triggs’ soup, cut him a large slice of the Triggs’ bread, and spread their dripping upon it.
They ate in silence. A piece of the dripping ran down young Johnny’s chin and fell onto the table.
“Manners, Johnny,” said Jill, “you should learn to wipe your mouth.”
The tapping began at the windows, at the door. The rustling 45, the jostling, the pushing for position on the sills. The first thud of the suicide gulls upon the step.
“Won’t America do something?” said his wife. “They’ve always been our allies, haven’t they? Surely America will do something?”
Nat did not answer. The boards were strong against the windows and on the chimneys too. The cottage was filled with stores, with fuel, with all they needed for the next few days. When he had finished dinner he would put the stuff away, stack it neatly 46, get everything shipshape, handy like. His wife could help him, and the children too. They’d tire themselves out, between now and a quarter to nine, when the tide would ebb; then he’d tuck them down on their mattresses 47, see that they slept good and sound until three in the morning.
He had a new scheme for the windows, which was to fix barbed wire in front of the boards. He had brought a great roll of it from the farm. The nuisance was, he’d have to work at this in the dark, when the lull 20 came between nine and three. Pity he had not thought of it before. Still, as long as the wife slept, and the kids, that was the main thing.
The smaller birds were at the window now. He recognized the light tap-tapping of their beaks and the soft brush of their wings. The hawks ignored the windows. They concentrated their attack upon the door. Nat listened to the tearing sound of splintering wood and wondered how many million years of memory were stored in those little brains, behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes, now giving them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the deft 48 precision of machines.
“I’ll smoke that last cigarette,” he said to his wife. “Stupid of me—it was the one thing I forgot to bring back from the farm.”
He reached for it, switched on the silent wireless. He threw the empty packet on the fire and watched it burn.
“Light up the Primus,” he said to his wife. “Make us some tea, and the kids some cocoa. No use sitting around doing nothing.”
That was the line. Keep her busy, and the children too. Move about, eat, drink; always best to be on the go.
He waited by the range. The flames were dying. But no more blackened bodies fell from the chimney.
He thrust his poker 2 up as far as it could go and found nothing. It was clear. The chimney was clear. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Come on now, Jill,” he said, “bring me some more sticks. We’ll have a good fire going directly.” She wouldn’t come near him, though. She was staring at the heaped singed 3 bodies of the birds.
“Never mind them,” he said. “We’ll put those in the passage when I’ve got the fire steady.”
The danger of the chimney was over. It could not happen again, not if the fire was kept burning day and night.
“I’ll have to get more fuel from the farm tomorrow,” he thought. “This will never last. I’ll manage, though. I can do all that with the ebb 4 tide. It can be worked, fetching what we need, when the tide’s turned. We’ve just got to adapt ourselves, that’s all.”
They drank tea and cocoa and ate slices of bread and Bovril. Only half a loaf left, Nat noticed. Never mind, though, they’d get by.
“Stop it,” said young Johnny, pointing to the windows with his spoon, “stop it, you old birds.”
“That’s right,” said Nat, smiling, “we don’t want the old beggars, do we? Had enough of ’em.”
They began to cheer when they heard the thud of the suicide birds.
“There’s another, Dad,” cried Jill. “He’s done for.”
“He’s had it,” said Nat. “There he goes, the blighter.”
This was the way to face up to it. This was the spirit. If they could keep this up, hang on like this until seven, when the first news bulletin came through, they would not have done too badly.
“Give us a cigarette,” he said to his wife. “A bit of a smoke will clear away the smell of the scorched 5 feathers.”
“There’s only two left in the packet,” she said. “I was going to buy you some from the co-op.”
“I’ll have one,” he said, “t’other will keep for a rainy day.”
No sense trying to make the children rest. There was no rest to be got while the tapping and the scratching went on at the windows. He sat with one arm round his wife and the other round Jill, with Johnny on his mother’s lap and the blankets heaped about them on the mattress 6.
“You can’t help admiring the beggars,” he said; “they’ve got persistence 7. You’d think they’d tire of the game, but not a bit of it.”
Admiration 8 was hard to sustain. The tapping went on and on and a new rasping note struck Nat’s ear, as though a sharper beak 9 than any hitherto had come to take over from its fellows. He tried to remember the names of birds; he tried to think which species would go for this particular job. It was not the tap of the woodpecker. That would be light and frequent. This was more serious because if it continued long the wood would splinter, as the glass had done. Then he remembered the hawks 10. Could the hawks have taken over from the gulls 11? Were there buzzards now upon the sills, using talons 12 as well as beaks 13? Hawks, buzzards, kestrels, falcons—he had forgotten the birds of prey 14. He had forgotten the gripping power of the birds of prey. Three hours to go, and while they waited, the sound of the splintering wood, the talons tearing at the wood.
Nat looked about him, seeing what furniture he could destroy to fortify 15 the door. The windows were safe because of the dresser. He was not certain of the door. He went upstairs, but when he reached the landing he paused and listened. There was a soft patter on the floor of the children’s bedroom. The birds had broken through. . . . He put his ear to the door. No mistake. He could hear the rustle 16 of wings and the light patter as they searched the floor. The other bedroom was still clear. He went into it and began bringing out the furniture, to pile at the head of the stairs should the door of the children’s bedroom go. It was a preparation. It might never be needed. He could not stack the furniture against the door, because it opened inward. The only possible thing was to have it at the top of the stairs.
“Come down, Nat, what are you doing?” called his wife.
“I won’t be long,” he shouted. “Just making everything shipshape up here.”
He did not want her to come; he did not want her to hear the pattering of the feet in the children’s bedroom, the brushing of those wings against the door.
At five-thirty he suggested breakfast, bacon and fried bread, if only to stop the growing look of panic in his wife’s eyes and to calm the fretful children. She did not know about the birds upstairs. The bedroom, luckily, was not over the kitchen. Had it been so, she could not have failed to hear the sound of them up there, tapping the boards. And the silly, senseless thud of the suicide birds, the death and glory boys, who flew into the bedroom, smashing their heads against the walls. He knew them of old, the herring gulls. They had no brains. The black-backs were different; they knew what they were doing. So did the buzzards, the hawks. . . .
He found himself watching the clock, gazing at the hands that went so slowly round the dial. If his theory was not correct, if the attack did not cease with the turn of the tide, he knew they were beaten. They could not continue through the long day without air, without rest, without more fuel, without . . . His mind raced. He knew there were so many things they needed to withstand siege. They were not fully 17 prepared. They were not ready. It might be that it would be safer in the towns, after all. If he could get a message through on the farm telephone to his cousin, only a short journey by train upcountry, they might be able to hire a car. That would be quicker—hire a car between tides . . .
His wife’s voice, calling his name, drove away the sudden, desperate desire for sleep.
“What is it? What now?” he said sharply.
“The wireless 18,” said his wife. “I’ve been watching the clock. It’s nearly seven.”
“Don’t twist the knob,” he said, impatient for the first time. “It’s on the Home where it is. They’ll speak from the Home.”
They waited. The kitchen clock struck seven. There was no sound. No chimes, no music. They waited until a quarter past, switching to the Light. The result was the same. No news bulletin came through.
“We’ve heard wrong,” he said. “They won’t be broadcasting until eight o’clock.”
They left it switched on, and Nat thought of the battery, wondered how much power was left in it. It was generally recharged when his wife went shopping in the town. If the battery failed, they would not hear the instructions.
“It’s getting light,” whispered his wife. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it. And the birds aren’t hammering so loud.”
She was right. The rasping, tearing sound grew fainter every moment. So did the shuffling 19, the jostling for place upon the step, upon the sills. The tide was on the turn. By eight there was no sound at all. Only the wind. The children, lulled 21 at last by the stillness, fell asleep. At half past eight Nat switched the wireless off.
“What are you doing? We’ll miss the news,” said his wife.
“There isn’t going to be any news,” said Nat. “We’ve got to depend upon ourselves.”
He went to the door and slowly pulled away the barricades 23. He drew the bolts and, kicking the bodies from the step outside the door, breathed the cold air. He had six working hours before him, and he knew he must reserve his strength for the right things, not waste it in any way. Food and light and fuel; these were the necessary things. If he could get them in sufficiency, they could endure another night.
He stepped into the garden, and as he did so he saw the living birds. The gulls had gone to ride the sea, as they had done before; they sought sea food and the buoyancy of the tide, before they returned to the attack. Not so the land birds. They waited and watched. Nat saw them, on the hedgerows, on the soil, crowded in the trees, outside in the field, line upon line of birds, all still, doing nothing.
He went to the end of his small garden. The birds did not move. They went on watching him.
“I’ve got to get food,” said Nat to himself. “I’ve got to go to the farm to find food.”
He went back to the cottage. He saw to the windows and the doors. He went upstairs and opened the children’s bedroom. It was empty, except for the dead birds on the floor. The living were out there, in the garden, in the fields. He went downstairs.
“I’m going to the farm,” he said.
His wife clung to him. She had seen the living birds from the open door.
“Take us with you,” she begged. “We can’t stay here alone. I’d rather die than stay here alone.”
He considered the matter. He nodded.
“Come on, then,” he said. “Bring baskets, and Johnny’s pram 24. We can load up the pram.”
They dressed against the biting wind, wore gloves and scarves. His wife put Johnny in the pram. Nat took Jill’s hand.
“The birds,” she whimpered, “they’re all out there in the fields.”
“They won’t hurt us,” he said, “not in the light.”
They started walking across the field toward the stile, and the birds did not move. They waited, their heads turned to the wind.
When they reached the turning to the farm, Nat stopped and told his wife to wait in the shelter of the hedge with the two children.
“But I want to see Mrs. Trigg,” she protested. “There are lots of things we can borrow if they went to market yesterday; not only bread, and . . .”
“Wait here,” Nat interrupted. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
The cows were lowing, moving restlessly in the yard, and he could see a gap in the fence where the sheep had knocked their way through, to roam unchecked in the front garden before the farmhouse 25. No smoke came from the chimneys. He was filled with misgiving 26. He did not want his wife or the children to go down to the farm.
“Don’t gib now,” said Nat, harshly. “Do what I say.”
She withdrew with the pram into the hedge, screening herself and the children from the wind.
He went down alone to the farm. He pushed his way through the herd 27 of bellowing 28 cows, which turned this way and that, distressed 29, their udders full. He saw the car standing 30 by the gate, not put away in the garage. The windows of the farmhouse were smashed. There were many dead gulls lying in the yard and around the house. The living birds perched on the group of trees behind the farm and on the roof of the house. They were quite still. They watched him.
Jim’s body lay in the yard . . . what was left of it. When the birds had finished, the cows had trampled 31 him. His gun was beside him. The door of the house was shut and bolted, but, as the windows were smashed, it was easy to lift them and climb through. Trigg’s body was close to the telephone. He must have been trying to get through to the exchange when the birds came for him. The receiver was hanging loose, the instrument torn from the wall. No sign of Mrs. Trigg. She would be upstairs. Was it any use going up? Sickened, Nat knew what he would find.
“Thank God,” he said to himself, “there were no children.”
He forced himself to climb the stairs, but halfway 32 he turned and descended 33 again. He could see her legs protruding 34 from the open bedroom door. Beside her were the bodies of the black-backed gulls and an umbrella, broken.
“It’s no use,” thought Nat, “doing anything. I’ve only got five hours, less than that. The Triggs would understand. I must load up with what I can find.”
He tramped back to his wife and children.
“I’m going to fill up the car with stuff,” he said. “I’ll put coal in it, and paraffin for the Primus. We’ll take it home and return for a fresh load.”
“What about the Triggs?” asked his wife.
“They must have gone to friends,” he said.
“Shall I come and help you, then?”
“No; there’s a mess down there. Cows and sheep all over the place. Wait, I’ll get the car. You can sit in it.”
Clumsily he backed the car out of the yard and into the lane. His wife and the children could not see Jim’s body from there.
“Stay here,” he said, “never mind the pram. The pram can be fetched later. I’m going to load the car.”
Her eyes watched his all the time. He believed she understood; otherwise she would have suggested helping 35 him to find the bread and groceries.
They made three journeys altogether, backward and forward between their cottage and the farm, before he was satisfied they had everything they needed. It was surprising, once he started thinking, how many things were necessary. Almost the most important of all was planking for the windows. He had to go round searching for timber. He wanted to renew the boards on all the windows at the cottage. Candles, paraffin, nails, tinned stuff; the list was endless. Besides all that, he milked three of the cows. The rest, poor brutes 36, would have to go on bellowing.
On the final journey he drove the car to the bus stop, got out, and went to the telephone box. He waited a few minutes, jangling the receiver. No good though. The line was dead. He climbed onto a bank and looked over the countryside, but there was no sign of life at all, nothing in the fields but the waiting, watching birds. Some of them slept—he could see the beaks tucked into the feathers.
“You’d think they’d be feeding,” he said to himself, “not just standing in that way.”
Then he remembered. They were gorged 37 with food. They had eaten their fill during the night. That was why they did not move this morning. . . .
No smoke came from the chimneys of the council houses. He thought of the children who had run across the fields the night before.
“I should have known,” he thought; “I ought to have taken them home with me.”
He lifted his face to the sky. It was colorless and gray. The bare trees on the landscape looked bent 38 and blackened by the east wind. The cold did not affect the living birds waiting out there in the fields.
“This is the time they ought to get them,” said Nat; “they’re a sitting target now. They must be doing this all over the country. Why don’t our aircraft take off now and spray them with mustard gas? What are all our chaps doing? They must know; they must see for themselves.”
He went back to the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“Go quickly past that second gate,” whispered his wife. “The postman’s lying there. I don’t want Jill to see.”
He accelerated. The little Morris bumped and rattled 39 along the lane. The children shrieked 40 with laughter.
“Up-a-down, up-a-down,” shouted young Johnny.
It was a quarter to one by the time they reached the cottage. Only an hour to go.
“Better have cold dinner,” said Nat. “Hot up something for yourself and the children, some of that soup.
I’ve no time to eat now. I’ve got to unload all this stuff.”
He got everything inside the cottage. It could be sorted later. Give them all something to do during the long hours ahead. First he must see to the windows and the doors.
He went round the cottage methodically, testing every window, every door. He climbed onto the roof also, and fixed 41 boards across every chimney except the kitchen. The cold was so intense he could hardly bear it, but the job had to be done. Now and again he would look up, searching the sky for aircraft. None came. As he worked he cursed the inefficiency 42 of the authorities.
“It’s always the same,” he muttered. “They always let us down. Muddle 43, muddle, from the start. No plan, no real organization. And we don’t matter down here. That’s what it is. The people upcountry have priority. They’re using gas up there, no doubt, and all the aircraft. We’ve got to wait and take what comes.”
He paused, his work on the bedroom chimney finished, and looked out to sea. Something was moving out there. Something gray and white amongst the breakers.
“Good old Navy,” he said, “they never let us down. They’re coming down-channel; they’re turning in the bay.”
He waited, straining his eyes, watering in the wind, toward the sea. He was wrong, though. It was not ships. The Navy was not there. The gulls were rising from the sea. The massed flocks in the fields, with ruffled 44 feathers, rose in formation from the ground and, wing to wing, soared upward to the sky.
The tide had turned again.
Nat climbed down the ladder and went inside the kitchen. The family were at dinner. It was a little after two. He bolted the door, put up the barricade 22, and lit the lamp.
“It’s nighttime,” said young Johnny.
His wife had switched on the wireless once again, but no sound came from it.
“I’ve been all round the dial,” she said, “foreign stations, and that lot. I can’t get anything.”
“Maybe they have the same trouble,” he said, “maybe it’s the same right through Europe.”
She poured out a plateful of the Triggs’ soup, cut him a large slice of the Triggs’ bread, and spread their dripping upon it.
They ate in silence. A piece of the dripping ran down young Johnny’s chin and fell onto the table.
“Manners, Johnny,” said Jill, “you should learn to wipe your mouth.”
The tapping began at the windows, at the door. The rustling 45, the jostling, the pushing for position on the sills. The first thud of the suicide gulls upon the step.
“Won’t America do something?” said his wife. “They’ve always been our allies, haven’t they? Surely America will do something?”
Nat did not answer. The boards were strong against the windows and on the chimneys too. The cottage was filled with stores, with fuel, with all they needed for the next few days. When he had finished dinner he would put the stuff away, stack it neatly 46, get everything shipshape, handy like. His wife could help him, and the children too. They’d tire themselves out, between now and a quarter to nine, when the tide would ebb; then he’d tuck them down on their mattresses 47, see that they slept good and sound until three in the morning.
He had a new scheme for the windows, which was to fix barbed wire in front of the boards. He had brought a great roll of it from the farm. The nuisance was, he’d have to work at this in the dark, when the lull 20 came between nine and three. Pity he had not thought of it before. Still, as long as the wife slept, and the kids, that was the main thing.
The smaller birds were at the window now. He recognized the light tap-tapping of their beaks and the soft brush of their wings. The hawks ignored the windows. They concentrated their attack upon the door. Nat listened to the tearing sound of splintering wood and wondered how many million years of memory were stored in those little brains, behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes, now giving them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the deft 48 precision of machines.
“I’ll smoke that last cigarette,” he said to his wife. “Stupid of me—it was the one thing I forgot to bring back from the farm.”
He reached for it, switched on the silent wireless. He threw the empty packet on the fire and watched it burn.
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的
- We had a homely meal of bread and cheese.我们吃了一顿面包加乳酪的家常便餐。
- Come and have a homely meal with us,will you?来和我们一起吃顿家常便饭,好吗?
n.扑克;vt.烙制
- He was cleared out in the poker game.他打扑克牌,把钱都输光了。
- I'm old enough to play poker and do something with it.我打扑克是老手了,可以玩些花样。
v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 );(毛发)燎,烧焦尖端[边儿]
- He singed his hair as he tried to light his cigarette. 他点烟时把头发给燎了。
- The cook singed the chicken to remove the fine hairs. 厨师把鸡燎一下,以便去掉细毛。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态
- The flood and ebb tides alternates with each other.涨潮和落潮交替更迭。
- They swam till the tide began to ebb.他们一直游到开始退潮。
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦
- I scorched my dress when I was ironing it. 我把自己的连衣裙熨焦了。
- The hot iron scorched the tablecloth. 热熨斗把桌布烫焦了。
n.床垫,床褥
- The straw mattress needs to be aired.草垫子该晾一晾了。
- The new mattress I bought sags in the middle.我买的新床垫中间陷了下去。
n.坚持,持续,存留
- The persistence of a cough in his daughter puzzled him.他女儿持续的咳嗽把他难住了。
- He achieved success through dogged persistence.他靠着坚持不懈取得了成功。
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕
- He was lost in admiration of the beauty of the scene.他对风景之美赞不绝口。
- We have a great admiration for the gold medalists.我们对金牌获得者极为敬佩。
n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻
- The bird had a worm in its beak.鸟儿嘴里叼着一条虫。
- This bird employs its beak as a weapon.这种鸟用嘴作武器。
鹰( hawk的名词复数 ); 鹰派人物,主战派人物
- Two hawks were hover ing overhead. 两只鹰在头顶盘旋。
- Both hawks and doves have expanded their conditions for ending the war. 鹰派和鸽派都充分阐明了各自的停战条件。
n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 )
- A flock of sea gulls are hovering over the deck. 一群海鸥在甲板上空飞翔。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
- The gulls which haunted the outlying rocks in a prodigious number. 数不清的海鸥在遥远的岩石上栖息。 来自辞典例句
n.(尤指猛禽的)爪( talon的名词复数 );(如爪般的)手指;爪状物;锁簧尖状突出部
- The fingers were curved like talons, but they closed on empty air. 他的指头弯得像鹰爪一样,可是抓了个空。 来自英汉文学 - 热爱生命
- The tiger has a pair of talons. 老虎有一对利爪。 来自辞典例句
n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 );鹰钩嘴;尖鼻子;掌权者
- Baby cockatoos will have black eyes and soft, almost flexible beaks. 雏鸟凤头鹦鹉黑色的眼睛是柔和的,嘴几乎是灵活的。 来自互联网
- Squid beaks are often found in the stomachs of sperm whales. 经常能在抹香鲸的胃里发现鱿鱼的嘴。 来自互联网
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨
- Stronger animals prey on weaker ones.弱肉强食。
- The lion was hunting for its prey.狮子在寻找猎物。
v.强化防御,为…设防;加强,强化
- This country will fortify the coastal areas.该国将加强沿海地区的防御。
- This treaty forbade the United States to fortify the canal.此条约禁止美国对运河设防。
v.沙沙作响;偷盗(牛、马等);n.沙沙声声
- She heard a rustle in the bushes.她听到灌木丛中一阵沙沙声。
- He heard a rustle of leaves in the breeze.他听到树叶在微风中发出的沙沙声。
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地
- The doctor asked me to breathe in,then to breathe out fully.医生让我先吸气,然后全部呼出。
- They soon became fully integrated into the local community.他们很快就完全融入了当地人的圈子。
adj.无线的;n.无线电
- There are a lot of wireless links in a radio.收音机里有许多无线电线路。
- Wireless messages tell us that the ship was sinking.无线电报告知我们那艘船正在下沉。
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇
- The drug put Simpson in a lull for thirty minutes.药物使辛普森安静了30分钟。
- Ground fighting flared up again after a two-week lull.经过两个星期的平静之后,地面战又突然爆发了。
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的过去式与过去分词形式)
- They lulled her into a false sense of security. 他们哄骗她,使她产生一种虚假的安全感。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- The movement of the train lulled me to sleep. 火车轻微的震动催我进入梦乡。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.路障,栅栏,障碍;vt.设路障挡住
- The soldiers make a barricade across the road.士兵在路上设路障。
- It is difficult to break through a steel barricade.冲破钢铁障碍很难。
路障,障碍物( barricade的名词复数 )
- The police stormed the barricades the demonstrators had put up. 警察冲破了示威者筑起的街垒。
- Others died young, in prison or on the barricades. 另一些人年轻时就死在监牢里或街垒旁。
n.婴儿车,童车
- She sat the baby up in the pram. 她把孩子放在婴儿车里坐着。
- She ran in chase of the pram. 她跑着追那婴儿车。
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房)
- We fell for the farmhouse as soon as we saw it.我们对那所农舍一见倾心。
- We put up for the night at a farmhouse.我们在一间农舍投宿了一夜。
n.疑虑,担忧,害怕
- She had some misgivings about what she was about to do.她对自己即将要做的事情存有一些顾虑。
- The first words of the text filled us with misgiving.正文开头的文字让我们颇为担心。
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起
- She drove the herd of cattle through the wilderness.她赶着牛群穿过荒野。
- He had no opinions of his own but simply follow the herd.他从无主见,只是人云亦云。
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的现在分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫
- We could hear he was bellowing commands to his troops. 我们听见他正向他的兵士大声发布命令。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- He disguised these feelings under an enormous bellowing and hurraying. 他用大声吼叫和喝采掩饰着这些感情。 来自辞典例句
痛苦的
- He was too distressed and confused to answer their questions. 他非常苦恼而困惑,无法回答他们的问题。
- The news of his death distressed us greatly. 他逝世的消息使我们极为悲痛。
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的
- After the earthquake only a few houses were left standing.地震过后只有几幢房屋还立着。
- They're standing out against any change in the law.他们坚决反对对法律做任何修改。
踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯
- He gripped his brother's arm lest he be trampled by the mob. 他紧抓着他兄弟的胳膊,怕他让暴民踩着。
- People were trampled underfoot in the rush for the exit. 有人在拼命涌向出口时被踩在脚下。
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途
- We had got only halfway when it began to get dark.走到半路,天就黑了。
- In study the worst danger is give up halfway.在学习上,最忌讳的是有始无终。
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的
- A mood of melancholy descended on us. 一种悲伤的情绪袭上我们的心头。
- The path descended the hill in a series of zigzags. 小路呈连续的之字形顺着山坡蜿蜒而下。
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的现在分词 );凸
- He hung his coat on a nail protruding from the wall. 他把上衣挂在凸出墙面的一根钉子上。
- There is a protruding shelf over a fireplace. 壁炉上方有个突出的架子。 来自辞典例句
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的
- The poor children regularly pony up for a second helping of my hamburger. 那些可怜的孩子们总是要求我把我的汉堡包再给他们一份。
- By doing this, they may at times be helping to restore competition. 这样一来, 他在某些时候,有助于竞争的加强。
兽( brute的名词复数 ); 畜生; 残酷无情的人; 兽性
- They're not like dogs; they're hideous brutes. 它们不像狗,是丑陋的畜牲。
- Suddenly the foul musty odour of the brutes struck his nostrils. 突然,他的鼻尖闻到了老鼠的霉臭味。 来自英汉文学
v.(用食物把自己)塞饱,填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 );作呕
- He gorged himself at the party. 在宴会上他狼吞虎咽地把自己塞饱。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- The men, gorged with food, had unbuttoned their vests. 那些男人,吃得直打饱嗝,解开了背心的钮扣。 来自辞典例句
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的
- He was fully bent upon the project.他一心扑在这项计划上。
- We bent over backward to help them.我们尽了最大努力帮助他们。
慌乱的,恼火的
- The truck jolted and rattled over the rough ground. 卡车嘎吱嘎吱地在凹凸不平的地面上颠簸而行。
- Every time a bus went past, the windows rattled. 每逢公共汽车经过这里,窗户都格格作响。
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 )
- She shrieked in fright. 她吓得尖叫起来。
- Li Mei-t'ing gave a shout, and Lu Tzu-hsiao shrieked, "Tell what? 李梅亭大声叫,陆子潇尖声叫:“告诉什么? 来自汉英文学 - 围城
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的
- Have you two fixed on a date for the wedding yet?你们俩选定婚期了吗?
- Once the aim is fixed,we should not change it arbitrarily.目标一旦确定,我们就不应该随意改变。
n.无效率,无能;无效率事例
- Conflict between management and workers makes for inefficiency in the workplace. 资方与工人之间的冲突使得工厂生产效率很低。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- This type of inefficiency arises because workers and management are ill-equipped. 出现此种低效率是因为工人与管理层都能力不足。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.困惑,混浊状态;vt.使混乱,使糊涂,使惊呆;vi.胡乱应付,混乱
- Everything in the room was in a muddle.房间里每一件东西都是乱七八糟的。
- Don't work in a rush and get into a muddle.克服忙乱现象。
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地
- Sailors know how to wind up a long rope neatly.水手们知道怎样把一条大绳利落地缠好。
- The child's dress is neatly gathered at the neck.那孩子的衣服在领口处打着整齐的皱褶。
褥垫,床垫( mattress的名词复数 )
- The straw mattresses are airing there. 草垫子正在那里晾着。
- The researchers tested more than 20 mattresses of various materials. 研究人员试验了二十多个不同材料的床垫。