a personal record-第6部分

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strong　enough　to　take　upon　itself　a　form　of　imagined　life　clearer



than　reality　and　whose　accumulated　verisimilitude　of　selected



episodes　puts　to　shame　the　pride　of　documentary　history。　



Providence　which　saved　my　MS。　from　the　Congo　rapids　brought　it　to



the　knowledge　of　a　helpful　soul　far　out　on　the　open　sea。　　It



would　be　on　my　part　the　greatest　ingratitude　ever　to　forget　the



sallow；　sunken　face　and　the　deep…set；　dark　eyes　of　the　young



Cambridge　man　（he　was　a　〃passenger　for　his　health〃　on　board　the



good　ship　Torrens　outward　bound　to　Australia）　who　was　the　first



reader　of　〃Almayer's　Folly〃the　very　first　reader　I　ever　had。　







〃Would　it　bore　you　very　much　in　reading　a　MS。　in　a　handwriting



like　mine？〃　I　asked　him　one　evening；　on　a　sudden　impulse　at　the



end　of　a　longish　conversation　whose　subject　was　Gibbon's　History。







Jacques　（that　was　his　name）　was　sitting　in　my　cabin　one　stormy



dog…watch　below；　after　bring　me　a　book　to　read　from　his　own



travelling　store。







〃Not　at　all；〃　he　answered；　with　his　courteous　intonation　and　a



faint　smile。　　As　I　pulled　a　drawer　open　his　suddenly　aroused



curiosity　gave　him　a　watchful　expression。　　I　wonder　what　he



expected　to　see。　　A　poem；　maybe。　　All　that's　beyond　guessing　now。







He　was　not　a　cold；　but　a　calm　man；　still　more　subdued　by



diseasea　man　of　few　words　and　of　an　unassuming　modesty　in



general　intercourse；　but　with　something　uncommon　in　the　whole　of



his　person　which　set　him　apart　from　the　undistinguished　lot　of



our　sixty　passengers。　　His　eyes　had　a　thoughtful；　introspective



look。　　In　his　attractive　reserved　manner　and　in　a　veiled



sympathetic　voice　he　asked：







〃What　is　this？〃　　〃It　is　a　sort　of　tale；〃　I　answered；　with　an



effort。　　〃It　is　not　even　finished　yet。　　Nevertheless；　I　would



like　to　know　what　you　think　of　it。〃　　He　put　the　MS。　in　the



breast…pocket　of　his　jacket；　I　remember　perfectly　his　thin；　brown



fingers　folding　it　lengthwise。　　〃I　will　read　it　to…morrow；〃　he



remarked；　seizing　the　door　handle；　and　then　watching　the　roll　of



the　ship　for　a　propitious　moment；　he　opened　the　door　and　was



gone。　　In　the　moment　of　his　exit　I　heard　the　sustained　booming　of



the　wind；　the　swish　of　the　water　on　the　decks　of　the　Torrens；　and



the　subdued；　as　if　distant；　roar　of　the　rising　sea。　　I　noted　the



growing　disquiet　in　the　great　restlessness　of　the　ocean；　and



responded　professionally　to　it　with　the　thought　that　at　eight



o'clock；　in　another　half　hour　or　so　at　the　farthest；　the



topgallant　sails　would　have　to　come　off　the　ship。







Next　day；　but　this　time　in　the　first　dog　watch；　Jacques　entered



my　cabin。　　He　had　a　thick　woollen　muffler　round　his　throat；　and



the　MS。　was　in　his　hand。　　He　tendered　it　to　me　with　a　steady



look；　but　without　a　word。　　I　took　it　in　silence。　　He　sat　down　on



the　couch　and　still　said　nothing。　　I　opened　and　shut　a　drawer



under　my　desk；　on　which　a　filled…up　log…slate　lay　wide　open　in



its　wooden　frame　waiting　to　be　copied　neatly　into　the　sort　of



book　I　was　accustomed　to　write　with　care；　the　ship's　log…book。　　I



turned　my　back　squarely　on　the　desk。　　And　even　then　Jacques　never



offered　a　word。　　〃Well；　what　do　you　say？〃　I　asked　at　last。　　〃Is



it　worth　finishing？〃　　This　question　expressed　exactly　the　whole



of　my　thoughts。







〃Distinctly；〃　he　answered；　in　his　sedate；　veiled　voice；　and　then



coughed　a　little。







〃Were　you　interested？〃　I　inquired　further；　almost　in　a　whisper。







〃Very　much！〃







In　a　pause　I　went　on　meeting　instinctively　the　heavy　rolling　of



the　ship；　and　Jacques　put　his　feet　upon　the　couch。　　The　curtain



of　my　bed…place　swung　to　and　fro　as　if　it　were　a　punkah；　the



bulkhead　lamp　circled　in　its　gimbals；　and　now　and　then　the　cabin



door　rattled　slightly　in　the　gusts　of　wind。　　It　was　in　latitude



40　south；　and　nearly　in　the　longitude　of　Greenwich；　as　far　as　I



can　remember；　that　these　quiet　rites　of　Almayer's　and　Nina's



resurrection　were　taking　place。　　In　the　prolonged　silence　it



occurred　to　me　that　there　was　a　good　deal　of　retrospective



writing　in　the　story　as　far　as　it　went。　　Was　it　intelligible　in



its　action；　I　asked　myself；　as　if　already　the　story…teller　were



being　born　into　the　body　of　a　seaman。　　But　I　heard　on　deck　the



whistle　of　the　officer　of　the　watch　and　remained　on　the　alert　to



catch　the　order　that　was　to　follow　this　call　to　attention。　　It



reached　me　as　a　faint；　fierce　shout　to　〃Square　the　yards。〃　〃Aha！〃



I　thought　to　myself；　〃a　westerly　blow　coming　on。〃　　Then　I　turned



to　my　very　first　reader；　who；　alas！　was　not　to　live　long　enough



to　know　the　end　of　the　tale。







〃Now　let　me　ask　you　one　more　thing：　is　the　story　quite　clear　to



you　as　it　stands？〃







He　raised　his　dark；　gentle　eyes　to　my　face　and　seemed　surprised。







〃Yes！　　Perfectly。〃







This　was　all　I　was　to　hear　from　his　lips　concerning　the　merits　of



〃Almayer's　Folly。〃　　We　never　spoke　together　of　the　book　again。　　A



long　period　of　bad　weather　set　in　and　I　had　no　thoughts　left　but



for　my　duties；　while　poor　Jacques　caught　a　fatal　cold　and　had　to



keep　close　in　his　cabin。　　When　we　arrived　in　Adelaide　the　first



reader　of　my　prose　went　at　once　up…country；　and　died　rather



suddenly　in　the　end；　either　in　Australia　or　it　may　be　on　the



passage　while　going　home　through　the　Suez　Canal。　　I　am　not　sure



which　it　was　now；　and　I　do　not　think　I　ever　heard　precisely；



though　I　made　inquiries　about　him　from　some　of　our　return



passengers　who；　wandering　about　to　〃see　the　country〃　during　the



ship's　stay　in　port；　had　come　upon　him　here　and　there。　　At　last



we　sailed；　homeward　bound；　and　still　not　one　line　was　added　to



the　careless　scrawl　of　the　many　pages　which　poor　Jacques　had　had



the　patience　to　read　with　the　very　shadows　of　Eternity　gathering



already　in　the　hollows　of　his　kind；　steadfast　eyes。







The　purpose　instilled　into　me　by　his　simple　and　final



〃Distinctly〃　remained　dormant；　yet　alive　to　await　its



opportunity。　　I　dare　say　I　am　compelledunconsciously



compellednow　to　write　volume　after　volume；　as　in　past　years　I



was　compelled　to　go　to　sea　voyage　after　voyage。　　Leaves　must



follow　upon　one　an　other　as　leagues　used　to　follow　in　the　days



gone　by；　on　and　on　to　the　appointed　end；　which；　being　Truth



itself；　is　Oneone　for　all　men　and　for　all　occupations。







I　do　not　know　which　of　the　two　impulses　has　appeared　more



mysterious　and　more　wonderful　to　me。　　Still；　in　writing；　as　in



going　to　sea；　I　had　to　wait　my　opportunity。　　Let　me　confess　here



that　I　was　never　one　of　those　wonderful　fellows　that　would　go



afloat　in　a　wash…tub　for　the　sake　of　the　fun；　and　if　I　may　pride



myself　upon　my　consistency；　it　was　ever　just　the　same　with　my



writing。　　Some　men；　I　have　heard；　write　in　railway　carriages；　and



could　do　it；　perhaps；　sitting　crossed…legged　on　a　clothes…line；



but　I　must　confess　that　my　sybaritic　disposition　will　not　consent



to　write　without　something　at　least　resembling　a　chair。　　Line　by



line；　rather　than　page　by　page；　was　the　growth　of　〃Almayer's



Folly。〃







And　so　it　happened　that　I　very　nearly　lost　the　MS。；　advanced　now



to　the　first　words　of　the　ninth　chapter；　in　the　Friedrichstrasse　



Poland；　or　more　precisely　to　Ukraine。　　On　an　early；　sleepy



morning　changing　trains　in　a　hurry　I　left　my　Gladstone　bag　in　a



refreshment…room。　　A　worthy　and　intelligent　Koffertrager　rescued



it。　　Yet　in　my　anxiety　I　was　not　thinking　of　the　MS。；　but　of　all



the　other　things　that　were　packed　in　the　bag。







In　Warsaw；　where　I　spent　two　days；　those　wandering　pages　were



never　exposed　to　the　light；　except　once　to　candle…light；　while



the　bag　lay　open　on　the　chair。　　I　was　dressing　hurriedly　to　dine



at　a　sporting　club。　　A　friend　of　my　childhood　（he　had　been　in　the



Diplomatic　Service；　but　had　turned　to　growing　wheat　on　paternal



acres；　and　we　had　not　seen　each　other　for　over　twenty　years）　was



sitting　on　the　hotel　sofa　waiting　to　carry　me　off　there。







〃You　might　tell　me　something　of　your　life　while　you　are



dressing；〃　he　suggested；　kindly。







I　do　not　think　I　told　him　much　of　my　life　story　either　then　or



later。　　The　talk　of　the　select　little　party　with　which　he　made　me



dine　was　extremely　animated　and　embraced　most　subjects　under



heaven；　from　big…game　shooting　in　Africa　to　the　last　poem



published　in　a　very　modernist　review；　edited　by　the　very　young



and　patronized　by　the　highest　society。　　But　it　never　touched　upon



〃Almayer's　Folly；〃　and　next　morning；　in　uninterrupted　obscurity；