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像爱丽丝的小镇|A small town like Alice

第三章|Chapter 3

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 阅读：[21208]
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他们在巴生待了十一天，但觉前路茫茫。食物又差又短缺，附近也没有商店——即使有也没有区别，因为实际上他们已经没钱了。第十二天，合欢少佐让他们在收到通知半小时内起程，走路去波德申，并派一个下士作为看守。他说，可能那里会有一条船带他们南下新加坡，如果没有的话，他们就朝战俘营的大致方向走。

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那时候大概是1942年3月中旬。巴生离波德申有大约五十英里远，但他们现在走得不如从前快了。他们一直走到月底才到达波德申。途中他们在一个村子滞留了几天，因为霍斯福尔太太患疟疾倒下了，一度烧到一百零五度。不到一周她就恢复了，可以走路了——或者说，蹒跚而行。但她再也没能恢复活力。从那时候起，领导的责任渐渐落到了琴的肩上。

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他们到达波德申的时候，衣衫褴褛，惨不忍睹。妇女们没有衣服可换，因为她们已经把负担降到最低限度。琴和霍兰太太被抓时，穿的就是现在身上的薄棉连衣裙，它们都穿破、洗旧了。刚从帕农出发不久，琴就开始赤脚行走，并打算就这样一直走下去。她现在的穿衣风格又向马来女人靠近了一步。在沙拉克，她把小胸针卖给了一个印度珠宝商，换来十三美元，她用宝贵的两美元买了一件纱笼。

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纱笼是一种管状的衣服，直径大概三英尺，人套进去，像毛巾一样围在腰上，让其余部分自然垂下来成褶皱状，人就可以自由移动了。睡觉的时候，可以把围着腰的部分解开，让它松软地铺在身上，不必担心滑走。它是最轻薄、最凉快的热带服饰，也最实用，穿洗都很方便。她剪掉连衣裙破烂不堪的裙摆，把余下的部分当成一件束腰外衣穿在上面。从那个时候起，她穿得比其他妇女都要轻松凉快。一开始其他女士都对这种下等的当地穿法表示强烈不满，但随着衣服越穿越破，她们中的大部分也都开始效法她。

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在波德申，他们并没有碰上什么好运气，也没有船。日本人允许他们留在波德申，待在一个干椰子肉仓库中，并未进行严格监管。就这样过了大约十天。日本指挥官认定他们是令人讨厌的累赘，于是又要把他们赶往塞伦班。他解释说，显而易见地，他们又不是他的俘虏，不是他的责任，应该由那些抓住他们的人把他们送去战俘营。他的目的很明显，就是要摆脱他们。因为如果他们继续赖着不走，他就不得不向日本皇军提出申请，请求军队、食物和医疗支援了。

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在波德申和塞伦班之间的西里奥，悲剧降临到霍兰一家头上——简去世了。他们走了一整天，在一个熏橡胶的小屋里休息。简在路上发起烧来。那个时候他们有两个日本看守，其中一个当天大部分时间背着她。体温计在几天前意外损坏了，所以没有办法测量疟疾病人的体温，但是她很烫。她们有一点奎宁，想给她吃，但喂不下去。后来，直到她虚弱得无法抵抗，才喂了下去，可惜为时已晚。她们说服日本中士让大家留在西里奥，不去冒险继续移动这个孩子。琴和艾琳·霍兰一直陪着她，不眠不休，在那个阴暗发臭的地方，与死神战斗，听任老鼠晚上在周围发疯似的跑来跑去，母鸡白天不断进进出出。第二天晚上，她去世了。

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面对这个打击，霍兰太太表现得很坚强，远远超出了琴的想象。“这是上帝的意志，我亲爱的，”她轻轻地说，“当她爸爸听到这个消息的时候，上帝也会给他力量，使他坚强。就像上帝给我们力量，来忍受现在的审判一样。”她站在小坟墓旁边，没有流泪，帮忙制作小木头十字架，并选好写在上面的铭文：“让小孩子到我这里来。”她轻轻地说：“我想她爸爸会喜欢这一句。”依然没有掉一滴眼泪。

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琴那天晚上在黑暗中醒来，听到她在哭泣。

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经历了这一切，婴儿罗宾却越发地健壮了。他很幸运，只吃新鲜煮熟的食物，靠米饭和汤果腹。没有人故意安排这一切，但这可能解释了他为什么没有像其他人那样闹肚子。琴每天背着他，她自己的健康也绝对比他们离开帕农时要好。她在巴生烧了五天，但有一段时间，痢疾没有找她麻烦，她胃口很好。由于一直暴露在太阳下面，她被晒得黝黑，臀上的孩子也随着晒黑了。

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塞伦班在铁路沿线上，她们希望可以从那里坐火车南下新加坡。他们大约在四月中旬到达塞伦班，但那里没有他们可坐的火车。铁路被限制使用，可能不通新加坡。不久他们又被迫上路去淡边，但出发之前，他们又失去了一个成员。

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失踪的人叫埃伦·福布斯，就是那个从英国出来找对象却没找着的未婚姑娘。在跟她密切接触的这几个月里，琴深刻地理解到她为什么找不着对象。埃伦空虚无聊，自由散漫，爱开玩笑，跟日本兵随意打闹，令其他女士嗤之以鼻。在塞伦班，他们住在小镇外面一个满是日本兵的校舍里。白天的时候，埃伦无缘无故消失了，他们再也没见到她。

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琴和霍斯福尔太太要求见军官，并向军官汇报了这个案子，说她们有一个同伴失踪了，可能是被士兵们绑架了。军官承诺进行调查，但毫无下文。两天后，他们收到南下淡边的命令，在看守的监视下出发了。

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他们在淡边停留了几天。食物太少了，实际上他们都在挨饿。在他们的迫切恳求下，当地的指挥官派人监视他们南下去了马六甲，说那里可能有船。但马六甲也没有船，那里的负责军官又把他们打发回淡边。他们拖着沉重的步子，绝望地往回走。在亚罗牙加，茱迪·汤姆逊去世了。留在淡边不可避免地意味着更多的死亡。所以他们建议，应该让他们继续南下步行去新加坡，于是指挥官派了一个下士押送他们去金马士。

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五月中旬，途经亚逸古宁时，霍斯福尔太太去世了。她得过疟疾，两个月前又原因不明地发烧，实际上一直没有康复。她总是不定期地重复发低烧，琴不禁怀疑她到底是不是患了疟疾。不论得的是什么病，总之她变得十分虚弱。在亚逸古宁，她又得了痢疾，两天后就去世了。也许是心脏衰竭或者劳累过度。弗里思太太接管了庄妮·霍斯福尔所操心的事情。她是一个病得变了色的小个子女士，已经五十多岁了，一直都病恹恹的，好像总是徘徊在死亡的边缘。新的责任给她注入了活力，从那天起她越变越精神，晚上也听不到她呻吟了。

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三天后，他们到达金马士。就跟以往在镇上的时候一样，他们被安置在校舍里。镇上的日本指挥官二须井大尉当天晚上去检查他们。他对他们之前的事一无所知。这些日本军官总是这样，琴已经习以为常。她解释说他们是被迫远行去新加坡战俘营的俘虏。

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他说：“战俘不去新加坡。严格的命令。你们从哪里来？”

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“我们都走了两个多月了，”她说，在经历了无数次的失望后，她变得非常淡定，“我们必须住进战俘营，不然我们都要死掉。路上已经死了七个人。原来被俘的时候，我们有三十二个人，现在只有二十五个。我们不能一直这样走下去。我们必须住进新加坡的战俘营。您必须理解。”

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他说：“不能再有战俘去新加坡。很抱歉，但这是严格的命令。太多战俘在新加坡。”

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她说：“但是，二须井大尉，那不可能指女囚犯，那肯定说的是男战俘。”

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“不能再有战俘去新加坡，”他说，“严格命令。”

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“那好吧，那我们可以在这里留下来，给自己建一个战俘营，并请你们给我们派一个医生吗？”

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他眯起眼：“没有战俘留在这里。”

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“但是我们要怎么做？我们可以去哪里？”

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“很可怜，”他说，“明天我告诉你们去哪里。”

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他走后，她回去找她的同伴。“你们都听见了，”她平静地说，“他说无论如何不会让我们去新加坡。”

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这个消息对于他们而言几乎没有意义。他们已经习惯了这种单调的生活，永远与新加坡隔着千山万水。“看起来哪儿都不想要我们。”普莱斯太太沉重地说，“波比，如果再让我看到你挑逗艾米，我就像你老爸那样揍你一顿。马上，我说到做到。”

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弗里思太太说：“如果他们不管我们，我们就可以去找一个小村庄，在那里生活，等这一切结束。”

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琴盯着她。“他们不可能养活我们，”她慢慢地说，“我们跟着日本兵才有食物。”但这个想法萌芽后，一直留在她的脑海里。

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“多么珍贵稀有的食物！”弗里思太太说，“有生之年我都不会忘记淡边这个可怕的地方。”

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第二天，二须井大尉来了。“你们现在去关丹，”他说，“关丹的女士战俘营。很好。你们会高兴的。”

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琴不知道关丹在哪里。她问：“关丹在哪里？远吗？”

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“关丹在海边，”他说，“你们现在去那里。”

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后面有人说：“有好几百英里远。在东海岸。”

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“好吧，”二须井大尉说，“在东海岸。”

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“我们可以坐火车去那里吗？”琴询问道。

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“抱歉，没有火车。你们走，十，十五英里每天。你们很快到那里。你们会很高兴。”

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她轻轻地说：“已经有七个人在这次长途跋涉中去世了，大尉。如果您强迫我们从这里走去关丹，会有更多人死去。我们可以坐卡车去那里吗？”

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“对不起，没有卡车，”他说，“你们很快去到那里。”

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他想让他们马上动身，但已是早上十一点了，他们誓死不从。通过耐心的谈判，琴迫使他同意第二天黎明再起程，这是她能做的最大限度的争取了。但是，她确实说服了他当天晚上给他们提供一顿丰盛的晚饭——肉炖米饭，外加每人一根香蕉。

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从金马士到关丹有大约一百七十英里，没有直达的路。五月最后一周，他们离开了金马士。按照之前的速度计算，琴想，他们去到那里需要六周。此前他们从未连续走过那么远的路。之前每走五十英里就有希望可以坐上交通工具，而现在他们要连续走六周，而且还不知道到达目的地后有没有喘息的机会。没有人真的相信关丹有战俘营。

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“你犯了一个错误，亲爱的，”弗里思太太说，“居然求他让我们留在这里，并给我们建个战俘营。看得出来他不喜欢这个主意。”

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“他只是想甩掉我们，”琴疲倦地说，“他们不想我们在这里碍手碍脚——只是想把我们打发走。”

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第二天早上，一个中士和另一个士兵看守押送他们上路。金马士是一个铁路枢纽，东海岸的铁路经过这里，连接向北走的铁路。铁路那时闲置着。有传言说日本军队将拆除这条铁路，把铁路材料运送到北方一个秘密战略目的地。女人们并不关心这种事，她们满心在想的是，她们要在一天大部分时间里走在烈日之下，没有火车捎她们一程。

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他们每隔一天走上十英里。一个星期后，许多孩子都发烧了。她们永远都不知道那到底是什么病。是从小艾米·普莱斯开始的。她出了疹子，体温飙升，还流鼻涕。可能是麻疹。当时的条件不可能允许她们把孩子们隔离开来。接下来几周孩子们全部被传染了。艾米·普莱斯慢慢康复了，但等她好到能走路的时候，另外七个孩子又倒下了。她们一筹莫展，只能不断擦洗这些汗流如注的小脸庞，给疲倦的孩子们降温，并不断把衣服洗净晒干，将他们身上湿透的衣服换掉。疾病在一个叫作马口的地方达到高潮。他们住在车站里，在售票处、候车厅和月台。很不巧地，在他们到达的三天前，马口有一个日本军医，但他坐卡车朝瓜拉基亚旺的方向去了。她们请首领派人跑去追他，但没追上。没有人能帮助她们。

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在马口，四个小孩去世了：哈里·科勒德，苏珊·弗莱彻，只有三岁的多丽丝·西蒙斯，还有弗雷迪·霍兰。琴自然最关心弗雷迪，但她也无能为力。在他发烧的第一天，她就猜到他会去世，那时她已经积累起许多悲伤的经验。在有些人——甚至包括幼小的孩子——对待自身所患疾病的态度里，似乎隐藏着某种信息，预示死亡即将降临。大约是一种萎靡不振的状态，仿佛在说他们已经太累，没有气力为生存作斗争。那个时候，她们已经变得很坚强，能够面对死亡的现实。她们不再深陷于悲伤和哀悼之中，明白到死亡是一个事实，必须避开它，或者和它作斗争，但是当它降临的时候——好吧，它不过是那些不得不去面对的事实之一。一个人死了以后，有一些事情要做：伸直四肢，挖坟墓，做十字架，在日记里记载死者姓名和坟墓的确切位置。也就是这样了，她们没有力量再回头细想。

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琴现在更关心霍兰太太的情况。埋葬了弗雷迪之后，她尝试把婴儿交给艾琳照顾，最近几周琴一直负责给罗宾喂食，照顾他，把他背在臀上，她觉得自己离不开这个小宝贝儿了。在两个更年长的孩子去世后，琴将他交还给艾琳照料。这么做不是因为她想甩掉他，而是因为她觉得艾琳·霍兰需要一个精神寄托，她想这个孩子应该可以让她提起精神来。但这个试验并不成功。艾琳那个时候已经虚弱到无法抱着小孩走路，也无法召集起足够的力气和他玩耍了。更重要的是，比起自己母亲，这个婴儿明显更喜欢这位年轻的女士，因为他在她背上度过了如此多的光阴。

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“他仿佛已经不再属于我了，”霍兰太太有一次说，“你带着他吧，亲爱的，他喜欢跟你待在一起。”从那时起，她们一起照顾他，艾琳给他喂食，琴陪他玩耍。

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他们继续上路，把四个小坟墓留在马口的铁路信号房后面。她们抬着两个竹竿担架走在铁路上，把最虚弱的孩子轮流放在上面。跟从前一样，她们发现这两个日本看守也很人道，很讲道理。他们习惯粗野，完全不能理解西方人的思维方式，但他们对虚弱的女人很宽容，也为孩子们付出了很多。一连几个小时，中士步履沉重地走着，肩上扛一个孩子，手里抓住担架的一头，把来复枪放在担架上，孩子的旁边。和往常一样，他们遇到了语言不通的问题。她们那时学会了一些日本单字，但只有琴能够说流利的马来语。正是她负责向村子里的人问路，并不时为日本人做翻译。

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弗里思太太使琴非常惊讶。她年过五十，是一个衰老的小个子女人，总是一副半死不活的样子。远行初期，她非常虚弱，并没完没了地作邪恶的预言，使她们非常厌烦。她们平常已经麻烦缠身，前路的艰辛，她们不愿去想。但自从弗里思太太接替了庄妮·霍斯福尔太太的角色之后，仿佛重获新生。她的健康改善了，现在她的步履和其他人一样有力。她在马来亚住了十五年左右，只能说几个马来单字，但她对于这个国度及其疾病的知识非常丰富。她很开心大家能走去关丹。“那里很不错，”她说，“比在西部健康多了，那里的人也好一些。我们一到那儿就会没事的。相信我。”

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随着时间的流逝，琴越来越频繁地求助于弗里思太太，请她提出一些建议，好让他们在困境里过得舒服一些。

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在亚逸克宁，霍兰太太的力气用尽了。她在路上倒下了两次，她们轮流搀扶着她走。把她放到竹轿上去是不可能的，因为即使她现在已经大大消瘦了下去，依然重八英石。那时大家都疲惫不堪，没有人可以抬着那么大的负重走远路。而且，把她放在竹轿上就意味着要把一个孩子挤下来，这个想法本身就让她无法接受。她咬着牙踉踉跄跄地走到村子里，整个人都变了颜色，就像之前的科勒德太太一样。那是一个不祥的征兆。

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亚逸克宁是火车站附近的一个小村庄，没有车站大楼。经过交涉，首领把一个屋子腾出来给他们住，就像之前好几回那样。她们把霍兰太太安置在一个阴凉的角落里，给她做了一个枕头，并帮她洗脸。她们没有白兰地或者其他酒可以给她喝了。她无法躺下来休息，只好强坐着，所以她们把她留在角落里，让她靠着墙。她当天晚上喝了一点汤，但吃不下任何食物。她知道自己的生命已经到了尽头。

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“我很抱歉，亲爱的，”夜深人静的时候，她轻声说，“抱歉给你添了这么多麻烦。我替比尔感到伤心。如果你再看见他，请告诉他不要苦恼。告诉他，如果他能找到一个好人，不要介意再婚。他还年轻。”

53
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过了一两个小时，她又说：“我真的觉得，你这样背着宝宝很可爱。他真幸运，不是吗？”

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早上的时候，她仍然活着，但已经失去了意识。她们用尽了一切办法——当然她们也没有多少办法可以用了，但她的呼吸越来越微弱，差不多到中午的时候，她去世了。她们当晚把她葬在村子的穆斯林墓地里。

55
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在亚逸克宁，他们进入了一路走来最不健康的地区。马来亚中部的大山目前在他们左边，也就是西边，因为他们正在往北走。他们来到彭亨河上游地区，这是一条向东流入东海岸的河流。在这里，它分成数不清的支流，如孟旷河，巴塘河，白浪鼓河，等等。这些支流流经地势平坦的农村地区，形成一个长满灌木和红树林的沼泽区，沿着他们的步行路线绵延四十英里。这是一个蛇和鳄鱼丛生的区域，蚊子多得无法想象。白天的时候，这里潮湿翳闷，热得让人窒息；晚上却笼罩在湿冷无情的浓雾中，冷得让人发抖。

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进入这个地区的第二天，有几个人发起了烧。跟以往由疟疾引起的那种烧不一样，体温不会升到很高，可能是登革热。那个时候她们几乎没有办法对付它，并不是因为她们没有钱，而是因为在那种热带丛林的村子里，根本就没有药。琴咨询了中士，他建议他们加快步伐，尽快走出这个鬼地方。琴自己也发起了烧，所有东西都在她面前模糊地摇晃着。她头痛欲裂，无法集中精神看东西。她咨询了出奇健康的弗里思太太。

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“他说得对，宝贝儿，”弗里思太太宣称，“不走出这个沼泽地带，你们就不会好起来。我想我们应该每天都往前走，如果你问我的话。”

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琴强迫自己集中精神：“西蒙斯太太怎么办？”

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“如果她的情况恶化，也许可以请士兵们背着她。——不知道，我也拿不准。这确实艰难，但我们必须走。我们最好走，走出去。这就是我的看法。我们在这个糟糕的地方逗留绝对没有什么好处。”

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那之后他们不再隔天休息，而是每天上路，踉踉跄跄地，生着病，发着烧，虚弱不堪。琴背着的那个婴儿，罗宾·霍兰也发了烧，这是他第一次得病。她让门里村的首领看看他，首领的妻子用一种树皮制作了一剂热腾腾的溶液，盛在一个肮脏的椰子壳里拿给她。琴尝了尝，觉得很苦，所以她觉得那里面含有奎宁。她给婴儿喝了一点儿，自己也喝了一些，当天晚上就起效了。第二天上路之前，另外几个女士也喝了一些，这对她们的病情很有帮助。

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他们花了十一天才走出沼泽地，过了淡马鲁，来到一个更高的地带。他们把西蒙斯太太和弗莱彻太太留在后面，还有小吉莲·汤姆逊。当他们进入了这个更健康的地区，终于敢停留一天稍事休息的时候，琴已经虚弱不堪，但烧总算是退了。婴儿还活着，不过明显生了病，醒着时哭个不停。

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现在是弗里思太太在鼓舞着他们，就像早些时候她使大家沮丧一样。“从现在起一切都会好起来，”她告诉他们，“我们越靠近海岸，就会变得越精神。东海岸很舒服，有漂亮的沙滩，总是海风习习，而且很健康。”

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他们不久来到山顶上一个隐藏在丛林深处的村庄。他们从来都不晓得它叫什么名字。它在增卡河上方。此时他们已经离开了铁路，在一条丛林小路上往东走，这条小路很可能会接上通向关丹的大路。这个村子很凉快，空气清新，村民善良好客。他们给女士们一间屋子歇息，还提供食物和新鲜水果。相同的树皮溶液也能治疗发烧。他们在那里待了六天，陶醉于新鲜清冽的微风和清爽宜人的夜晚。他们终于再次踏上行程的时候，状态比之前好多了。他们留了一个小胸针给首领，作为对村民们提供食物和照顾的报酬。它原来属于弗莱彻太太，他们想这位逝者应该不会提出反对意见。

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四天后的晚上，他们来到了马兰。一条横穿马来半岛的柏油路穿过马兰，连接关丹和吉宁。这个村子可能有五十间屋子，一所学校，和几间当地商店。他们在马路上走了大概一英里半，去到村子的北边。在铁轨和丛林小路上走了五周之后，这条马路上的现代文明迹象使他们欣喜若狂。他们迈着轻快的步子走向村子。突然，他们看见前面停着两辆卡车。有两个白人男人在修理它们，日本看守在旁监视。

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他们快步向卡车走去，发现那上面装满铁轨和枕木。卡车面朝关丹方向停着。其中一辆被从车上搬下来的枕木顶了起来，两个白人男人躺在车底下修理后轴。他们穿着短裤和军靴，没穿袜子，皮肤被太阳晒得黝黑，身上被后轴上的泥巴弄得脏兮兮的。但他们都是肌肉发达的健壮男士，尽管精瘦精瘦，但身体状况良好。他们都是白人，这是女人们五个月来第一次见到白人男性。

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他们把卡车团团围住。他们的看守开始用断断续续的日语和卡车看守说话。其中一个白人男人面朝上躺在车轴底下，手里摆弄着螺丝扳手，瞥眼看着视野范围内的赤脚和纱笼，一边慢悠悠地说：“告诉那些脏兮兮的日本人让那些脏兮兮的女人挪开一点，给我们透点光。”

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一些女人笑了，弗里思太太说：“不许那样跟我说话，年轻人。”

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男人们从卡车底下翻出来，坐到地上，盯着女人们和孩子们看，看棕色的皮肤，纱笼和赤脚。“刚才是谁在说话？”拿着螺丝扳手的人问，“你们谁会说英语？”他慢悠悠地拉长调子说话，每两个单词之间都好像有停顿。

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琴笑道：“我们都是英国人。”

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他盯着她看，注意到编成马尾的黑发，棕色的手臂和双脚，纱笼，以及背在臀上的棕色婴儿。她穿着脏兮兮的衬衫，开领处有一道白色的皮肤。“海峡土生白人？”他冒昧地问道。

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“不是，真正的英国人——我们全是，”她说，“我们是俘虏。”

72
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他站起来。他是一个金发青年，很健壮，二十七八岁。“真的？”他说。

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她听不懂他说的话。“你也是战俘吗？”她问。

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他慢慢地微笑了。“我们是战俘吗？”他重复了一遍，“哦，老天！”

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这个男人身上有一种什么东西是她从来没有碰到过的。“你是英国人吗？”她问。

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“当然不是，”他拖着那种慢条斯理的调子说，“我们是澳洲人。”

77
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她说：“你们住在这里的战俘营吗？”

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他摇头。“我们从关丹来，”他说，“但我们整天都在开车，把这些东西运到海边去。”

79
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她说：“我们要去关丹，去那里的女子战俘营。”

80
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他盯着她看。“那一开始就是一个骗局，”他慢悠悠地说，“关丹那里没有什么女子战俘营。只有一个给我们建造的临时战俘营，因为我们是卡车司机。谁告诉你关丹有一个女子战俘营的？”

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“日本人告诉我们的。他们负责把我们送去那里，”她叹了一口气，“那只是又一个谎言。”

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“那些可恶的日本人信口开河，”他慢慢地微笑了，“我还以为你们是一大群土著呢，”他说，“你说你们是英国人，真的？一路从英国来？”

83
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她点点头。“是的。我们有些人已经在马来亚待了十到十五年，但我们都是英国人。”

84
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“还有这些孩子们——他们也都是英国人？”

85
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“全部都是。”她说。

86
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他慢悠悠地笑了：“我从来没有想过会与一个长成你这样的英国女士说话。”

87
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“你长得也不怎么样。”琴说。

88
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另一个男人正在和另一群女人聊天。弗里思太太、普莱斯太太和琴在一起。他转向琴她们。“你们从哪里来？”他问道。

89
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弗里思太太说：“我们在西海岸那头的帕农被抓住了，在等船接我们离开的时候。”

90
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“但是，你们现在从什么地方来？”

91
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琴说：“日本兵要送我们去关丹。”

92
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“不是一路从帕农来？”

93
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她立刻笑道：“我们到处去——瑞天咸港，波德申——到处走来走去。没有人想要我们。我想我们走了差不多有五百英里了。”

94
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“哦，老天，”他说，“那听起来像一个骗局。要是你们没待在战俘营里，上哪儿找‘塔克’？”

95
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她没听懂。“塔克？”

96
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“你们吃什么？”

97
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“每天晚上我们都在村子里过夜，”她说，“我们必须找个歇脚的地方。可能就在这样一个地方，也可能是在学校里。我们从村子里找到什么就吃什么。”

98
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“看在上帝的分上，”他说，“等我一下，我去告诉我哥们儿。”他猛地转向他的同伴。“你听到他们遇到的那个骗局了吗？”他说，“被抓后就一直被迫走来走去。从来没有进过战俘营。”

99
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“她们跟我讲的就是这个，”另一个说，“这些可恶的日本人就是这么做事。让人作呕。”

100
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第一个男人回身问琴：“你们生了病的话怎么办？”

101
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她嘲讽地说：“如果生病了，要不就好起来，要不就死掉。我们过去三个月里没有见到过一个医生，我们实际上也没有药了。所以我们差不多全死了。我们被抓的时候有三十二个人，现在只剩下十七个了。”

102
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澳洲人轻轻地说：“哦，老天！”

103
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琴说：“你们今天晚上会在这里过夜吗？”

104
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他说：“你们呢？”

105
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“我们会留在这里，”她说，“我们明天也还会留在这里，除非他们让我们坐你们的卡车。我们不能让孩子们每天都走，得走一天歇一天。”

106
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他说：“如果你们留下来，土著太太，那我们也留下来。我们可以修理修理这根可恶的轴，让它再也转不起来，如果有需要的话。”他停下来，缓慢地思索着。“你们没有药吗？”他说，“你们想要什么？”

107
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她很快地说：“你们有芒硝吗？”

108
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他摇摇头，说：“那就是你们想要的？”

109
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“我们一点芒硝都没有了，”她说，“我们想要奎宁，还有可以治疗这些孩子身上所有皮肤病的药物。这里有吗？”

110
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他慢慢地说：“我去试着找一下。你们有钱吗？”

111
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弗里思太太哼了一声：“在跟着日本人走了六个月之后？他们拿走了我们身上所有的东西。连我们的结婚戒指也不放过。”

112
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琴说：“我们还剩下一点珠宝，如果有人买的话，就有钱了。”

113
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他说：“我先试试，看能做点什么。你们去找地方睡觉吧，回头见。”

114
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“好的。”

115
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她回去找中士，向他鞠了一躬，因为那能使他高兴，这样一来事情就会变得对他们更加有利。她说：“军曹，今晚哪里歇息？孩子们必须歇息。我们去见首领，关于歇息和食物？”

116
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他和她一起去找到首领，交涉借用校舍来安置俘虏的事情，并且请求首领提供大米作为食物。他们没有像过去那样遭到断然拒绝，因为那时候他们有三十人，现在人数变少了，提供住宿和食物就变得容易多了。他们在校舍里安顿下来，开始处理例行琐事，洗洗刷刷，这占据了他们大部分的空余时间。在关丹没有女子战俘营的消息，虽然是他们都早就暗中预料到的，还是不免有点令人失望。但两位澳大利亚男士带来的新鲜感对此作出了补偿，因为他们一直在严格的看管下，过着一成不变的无聊生活。

117
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澳洲小伙们又回去修理卡车。他们在后轴底下交头接耳，刚才和琴说话的金发青年说：“这么下作的骗局真是闻所未闻。我们可以怎样修理这个混账家伙，好让我们今天晚上能够留下来？我跟她们说，我要试着给她们弄点药。”

118
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他们已经修理好刹车卡滞的问题，正是这个问题使得内侧轮毂过热，导致卡车无法前进。另外一个说：“把整个混账的轮毂卸下来瞧一眼，把传动轴从差速器里拉出来。那会弄得脏兮兮的一团糟，并意味着我们要睡在卡车里。”

119
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“我说我要试着搞点药来。”他们又干了一会儿。

120
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“你打算怎么办？”

121
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“汽油，我想。那是最容易的。”

122
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天快黑的时候，他们从后轴里把带着键槽的金属传动轴抽了出来，这个东西有四英尺长，非常沉。他们把滴着黑油的传动轴拿给负责看守他们的日本下士看，作为他们辛勤工作的证据。“今晚在这里休息。”他们说。下士心下怀疑，但还是同意了。实际上他也只能同意。他走开去给他们安排晚饭，让跟着他的士兵留下来看守他们。

123
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金发青年借口上厕所离开了卡车，趁着夜色后撤到一座房子的后面，迅速在一排房子后溜了下去，来到大街上。他在大街上跑了几千码，去到村子另一头。这里有一个中国人，开一辆破旧的公共汽车。澳洲人定期地在这条路上开车来回跑，在多次穿过马兰的旅途中注意到了这个地方。

124
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澳洲人用慢悠悠的语气轻声地说：“哥们儿，买不买汽油？你出多少钱？”语言不通所造成的障碍，在一个有心买的人和一个有心卖的人之间，竟然是如此的小。在谈判中，他们一度通过写字来交流，澳洲人用大写字母在一张包装纸的碎片上写道：“芒硝和奎宁和皮肤病药膏”。

125
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他带着三个两加仑的罐子和一条橡胶管溜回房子背后，把这些东西藏在公共厕所后面。不久他就回到卡车去，招摇地扣上短裤上的纽扣。

126
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大约十点钟，趁尚未夜深人静，他摸黑找到校舍。本应有一个日本士兵整晚值勤看管他们，但在过去五周里面，妇女们并没有在两名看守面前表现出最轻微的逃跑倾向，所以这两位看守早就放弃了晚上的监视。澳洲人弄清楚他们的确切位置，待看见那两个日本兵和卡车看守蹲到一起，他马上悄无声息地来到了学校。

127
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门开着，他站在门口，轻声问道：“下午是哪位女士和我聊天来着？背着婴儿的那个。”

128
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琴睡着了。她们把她摇醒，她套进纱笼，套上上衣，出来到门前。他给她带了几个小包裹。“那是奎宁，”他说，“如果你还有需要的话，我可以再去弄一些。我找不到芒硝，但中国人用这种东西治疗痢疾。上面都是中文，按他的意思，每隔四小时用三片这种叶子泡温水喝。那是一个成年人的量。如果有效，把标签留好，在其他中国药店也可以买到。还有这个青草膏是用来涂的。如果你还想要的话，还有很多。”

129
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她感激地把药收下。“真是太棒了，”她温柔地说，“花了多少钱？”

130
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“没关系，”他慢条斯理地说，“日本人付的账，但他们不知道。”

131
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她又谢谢他。“你在这里干什么？”她问，“你们要开车去哪里？”

132
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“关丹，”他说，“本来我们今晚就应该到达那里，但是本·莱格特——我哥们儿——他把卡车拆碎了，只好作罢。明天下午再去。不过，如果方便的话，我们还可以多留一天，虽然我觉得需要冒点险。”他告诉她，他们有六个人，为日本人开着六辆卡车。他们定期从关丹开去内地，跑上大约一百三十英里，到铁路沿线一个叫而连突的地方。花一天时间到达而连突后，他们拆下铁路的枕木和铁轨，装满卡车，第二天再开回关丹。在关丹，他们把铁路材料卸在码头周围，有船来把东西运到一个未知的目的地。“我想他们是要在另一个地方建一条新铁路吧。”他说。一百三十英里很远，在这种热带条件下开着满载的卡车，一天勉强能走完。如果无法在天黑之前赶到关丹，就找一个村庄过夜。关丹的日本兵不会注意到他们缺席。

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他在柔佛被俘后，一直在做这项工作，大概已经有两个月了。“比待在战俘营好。”他说。通往学校的台阶有三级，她坐在最上面一级，他在她面前的地上坐下来。她觉得他的坐姿很有意思，因为他像本地人一样一条腿坐在脚后跟上，但却伸出左腿。“你是澳大利亚的卡车司机吗？”她问道。

134
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“才不是呢，”他说，“我是个套环。”

135
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她说：“‘套环’是什么？”

136
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“我是个牧工，”他说，“我在昆士兰出生，就在克朗克里后面，我全家都是昆士兰人。我爸从伦敦来，来自一个叫作哈默斯密斯的地方。他过去是开出租的，但他很懂马，所以就出来到昆士兰，为科布马车公司工作，并遇到了我妈。但我很久没回克朗克里了。我在它西边的北领地工作，在一个叫作沃拉华的农场。那里大概离斯普林斯西南一百一十英里。”

137
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她笑道：“那斯普林斯在哪里？”

138
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“爱丽丝，”他说，“爱丽丝斯普林斯。在澳大利亚正中央，达尔文和阿德莱德中间。”

139
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她说：“我还以为澳大利亚中部都是沙漠呢。”

140
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她的无知引起了他的关心。“哦，老天，”他慢悠悠地说，“爱丽丝是个很棒的地方。那里水源充足，人们整晚开着水龙头，给草地浇水。就是那样，他们整晚开着水龙头。不过当然了，北领地大部分地区都很干旱，但小河边的牧草通常很茂盛。只要你找一找，就会发现河边到处都有水。虽然只有在雨季的时候河里才有水，但即使是在干涸的时候，只要你往下挖不到一英尺，就一定能找到水源。就是那样，即使是在干旱地带的中央也一样。”不知道为什么，他说话的调子又慢又平，听起来非常舒服。“你去到一个类似的地方，就能看见沙地上满是小洞，那是袋鼠和岩大袋鼠挖来找水喝的。它们知道上哪儿找水喝。内地到处都有水，但你要知道去哪里找。”

141
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“你在这个叫作沃拉华的地方做什么？”她问道，“看羊吗？”

142
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他摇摇头。“在爱丽丝地区，你是找不着绵羊的，”他说，“那里对它们来讲太热了。沃拉华是一个牛场。”

143
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“你们有几头牛？”

144
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“我离开的时候，大概有一万八千头吧，”他说，“数量上上下下的，根据湿度情况。”

145
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“一万八千头？有多大啊？”

146
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“沃拉华？大概两千七百吧。”

147
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“两千七百英亩啊，”她说，“真够大的。”

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他盯着她看。“不是英亩，”他说，“是平方英里。沃拉华有两千七百平方英里大。”

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她惊呆了。“但那全是一个地方吗——我是说，一个牧场？”

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“是一个牛场，”他回答，“归一个人单独所有。”

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“但那要多少人才能经营得了它啊？”

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他满怀感情地任思绪在记忆犹新的场景中驰骋。“有杜维恩先生，汤米·杜维恩——他是经理，然后是我——我是牧工头，或者以前是。汤米说，他会留一个位置给我，等我回去的。我希望能再回到沃拉华，在未来某一天……”他沉思了一会儿。“我们还有另外三个牧工——都是白人，”他说，“然后有快乐、月光、金块儿、雪白和柏油路……”他想了想。“我们有九个土著，”他说，“就那么多了。”

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“九个什么？”

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“长得很黑的家伙——土著牧工。土著。”

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“但那也只有十三个人。”她说。

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“是的，如果你算上杜维恩先生的话就有十四个。”

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“但是十四个人能看得住那么多牛吗？”她问。

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“哦，当然了，”他边想边说，“从某个意义上讲，沃拉华是一个很好管理的牧场，因为它没有篱笆。天然的屏障把它围了起来。北面有帕默河和利维山；西边是沙地，牛不去那里边；南边有科诺特山和奥默罗德山，东边有孖岗山。十四个人足够管理那样一个牧场了。如果多几个白人就更容易了，但是雇不到。那些可恶的土著，他们总是动不动就要去丛林流浪。”

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“那是什么？”她问。

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“丛林流浪？哦，土著牧工总是冷不丁地走到你面前说：‘老板，我现在去丛林流浪。’然后就离开牧场，只穿着短裤，戴着旧帽子，带着枪——要是他们有的话，要不然就拿着矛和飞标，你留不住他们。他们到处乱走，消失两到三个月。”

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“但他们要去哪里？”她问道。

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“就是瞎逛。他们每次都要走很远——哦，老天，”他说，“四百到五百英里。走够了就回到牧场继续工作。土著的麻烦就在于，你永远都不知道他们下周会不会来上班。”

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接下来是一段短暂的沉默。在热带的夜色中，这两位背井离乡的年轻人一起安静地坐在校舍台阶上。狐蝠在他们头上的月光里飞来飞去，像皮革一样的翅膀扇出清脆的沙沙声。“一万八千头牛……”她思考着说。

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“差不多吧，”他说，“水源充足的时候，会升至两万一千或者两万两千头。然后就会迎来干旱的一年，数量直线下降到一万两千或者一万三千。我想我们每年都会因为干旱而损失三千头牛。”

165
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“但你们不能把它们带到有水的地方去吗？”

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他慢慢地笑道：“只靠十四个人是不够的。每年在北领地和北昆士兰死于干渴的牛足以养活整个英格兰。当然了，在沃拉华还有马，所以情况更糟糕。”

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“马？”

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“哦，老天，”他说，“我们有大约三千匹野马，但它们一点用都没有——它们是害虫。沃拉华几年前有一个马场，把马卖给印度军队，但现在你不能卖马了。我们会使用一些马，当然——大约一百匹，和驮马一起。你没法消灭它们，除非把它们射死，但你永远都找不到一个会去射杀马匹的牧工。它们吃掉给牛吃的牧草，并把草地给毁了。牛不喜欢在被马吃过的地方吃草。”

169
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她问：“沃拉华有多大？——多长？多宽？”

170
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他说：“哦，让我说的话，最宽的地方大概东西九十英里，南北四十五到五十英里。但它是一个很容易管理的牧场，因为牧场住宅设在中央附近，往哪个方向走都不会很远。去科诺特山是最远的，大概要走六十英里。”

171
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“从牧场住宅去要六十英里？你就住在牧场住宅里？”

172
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“是的。”

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“其他地方还有住宅吗？”

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他盯着她。“每个牧场只有一处牧场住宅。有的会有分牧场，在上面建个棚屋什么的，牧工们可以在那里放一些毯子和食物，但这种情况不多。”

175
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“那需要多长时间才能去到最远的地方——科诺特山呢？”

176
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“到科诺特山去？哦，好吧，来回需要花一个星期。那是骑马去，如果开越野车去的话，一天半就够了。但骑马最好，虽然有点慢。骑驮马不会比走路快，如果你爱惜它。跟电影里人们策马狂奔到处去的情景完全不一样——哦，老天。要是在北领地这样做的话，不消一会儿就会把马给骑坏了。”

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他们在一起坐了超过一个小时，在校舍入口轻声交谈。最后，牧工从他奇怪的姿势中站起身来，说：“我不能再留在这儿了，不然那些日本人回来后就该气得跳来跳去了。我哥们儿也是——他会以为我出了什么事。我跟他说我去烧水来着。”

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琴站起来。“你人真是太好了，给我们找来这些东西。你不知道它们对我们有多重要。请告诉我，你叫什么名字？”

179
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“乔·哈曼，”他说，“哈曼中士——牧工哈曼，他们有人这么叫我。”他迟疑了一下，说，“对不起，我今天叫你土著太太，”他尴尬地说，“那是个很蠢的笑话。”

180
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她说：“我叫琴·佩吉特。”

181
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“那听起来像一个苏格兰名字。”

182
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“是的，”她说，“我不是苏格兰人，但我母亲来自帕斯。”

183
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“我母亲生于一个苏格兰家庭，”他说，“来自因弗内斯。”

184
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她伸出手。“晚安，中士，”她说，“跟另外一个白人聊天真是太令人愉快了。”

185
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他抓住她的手。他的握手强而有力，给她带来了极大的安慰。“喂，佩吉特太太，”他说，“我会尝试说服日本人让你们坐我们的卡车往南走。如果这些小浑蛋们不同意，我们也没有办法。这样的话，在你们到达关丹之前，我们还会在路上相遇，到时我他妈的一定会给卡车做手脚。你们还想要别的什么东西？”

186
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“肥皂，”她说，“你有可能给我们弄点肥皂吗？”

187
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“应该可以。”他说。

188
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“我们一点肥皂都没有了，”她说，“我们有一个小金盒，是一位过世的女士的，里面有一些头发。我看看能不能把它卖掉换点肥皂。”

189
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“别卖，”他说，“我会帮你找到肥皂。”

190
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“既然你已经帮我们找到了这些药，肥皂就是我们最急需的东西。”她说。

191
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“请放心。”他迟疑了一下，然后说，“抱歉，我太唠叨了，跟你讲了那么多内地的事情，你一定觉得很无聊。只是，有时候不免情绪低落——不能让自己相信，还能再回到那个地方。”

192
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“一点也不无聊，”她温柔地说，“晚安，中士。”

193
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“晚安。”

194
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早上，琴向同伴们展示她拿到的东西。“我听见你跟他谈了很久，”普莱斯太太说，“要我说，他真是个不错的小伙儿。”

195
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“他是个有思乡病的小伙儿，”琴说，“他喜欢谈论他的牛场。”

196
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“思乡病！”普莱斯太太说，“我们所有人都患着思乡病，不是吗？”

197
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澳洲人当天早上和他们的看守进行了一场很聪明的辩论，但日本人断然拒绝了让女人们坐卡车南下的提议。在他们看来，这是有一定道理的，因为两辆卡车已经严重超载，再搭上十七个女人和孩子，增加的重量很可能就会最终把卡车压垮。要是卡车报废，就连看守自己都逃不过上级军官的鞭打。九十点钟的时候，哈曼和莱格特已经把后轴安装好，做好出发的准备。

198
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乔·哈曼说：“让那个小浑蛋忙活一阵，我要把油管接头弄松。”他指那个日本看守。过了一会儿，在哈曼的带领下，他们松开油管接头，让一些汽油漏出来。看守并未注意到这一切。这样一来，卡车没油时，别人不会怀疑到他们身上来，也不会有人知道他们偷走六加仑汽油卖给了那个中国人。

199
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从马兰到关丹有五十五英里。女人们在马兰休息了一天，第二天又开始沿着柏油路前进。当天晚上他们来到了一个叫作布湾的地方。琴一整天都在留心寻找乔·哈曼的卡车，希望能在它往回走的时候看见它。她不知道它因为汽油耗尽而在薄海滞留了一个晚上，耽误了回程。第二天，他们在布湾逗留了一天，住在一间以聂帕榈做屋顶的棚屋中。女人们轮流和琴一起到路边守候那辆卡车。他们的健康稍微有所改善。在经历了铁轨和森林小径之后，走在柏油路上感觉非常轻松，药物也已经开始起效。他们朝地势更高的地方走，环境越来越健康，想象力丰富的人已经在说他们能闻到海的味道了。和两位澳洲人的接触也明显提升了他们的士气。

200
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乔·哈曼开卡车驶过布湾时没有遇到他们。然而，晚上有一个马来女孩给他们送去一个棕色纸的包裹，里面装着六块救生圈牌肥皂，包裹上写着佩吉特太太收，还有留言：

201
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亲爱的女士：

202
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现送上一些肥皂。目前我们只能找到这么多，但稍后我还会再找来一些。很抱歉没能与你见上面，但日本兵不让我们停车，所以我把这个包裹交给了马兰的中国人，他说他会转交给你。注意看我们，我会尝试在回程的时候停下来。

203
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乔·哈曼

204
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女人们都很高兴。“救生圈牌，”沃纳太太说，欣喜若狂地嗅着它们，“你都能闻到石炭的味道！我的乖乖，你想他们是上哪儿找来的？”

205
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“我猜有两种可能性，”琴回答，“要不就是偷来的，要不就是用偷来的东西换来的。”实际上是后者。在薄海，澳洲人的日本看守在村子水井边洗脚时把靴子脱了下来。洗了三十秒后，他转过身来，发现靴子不见了。不可能是澳洲人干的，因为他们俩都马上出现在另外一个方向。这成了一个永久的谜。然而本·莱格特帮了大忙，当天晚上他从一个呼呼大睡的日本兵那里偷了一双靴子交给他们的看守，看守大大松了一口气，给了本一美元。

206
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第二天，女人们走到了薄卡坡。他们进入了一个比从前好得多的地区，环境更宜人，也相对健康。那里的道路蜿蜒曲折，环绕山腰，几乎全部覆盖在树荫里。那天，他们第一次吃上了椰子。普莱斯太太有一双破旧的拖鞋，原来是霍斯福尔太太的，这几周她一直带在身上，从来没有穿过。一到薄卡坡，他们就用它换椰子，每人一个，想着椰汁里的维生素对她们有好处。在薄卡坡他们住在路边一个很大的聂帕榈顶椰子棚里。时近黄昏，两辆熟悉的卡车停在村子前，驾驶员是本·莱格特和乔·哈曼。就跟往常一样，车上装满了枕木和铁轨，目的地是海边。

207
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琴带上几个同伴，和日本中士一起步行穿过马路去迎接他们。日本看守聚在一起说话，乔·哈曼转向琴。“我们不能在而连突及时装车，赶在今晚到达关丹了，”他说，“本找到了一头猪。”

208
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“一头猪？”她们围住本的卡车，看见那头死猪躺在铁路材料上面。它是一头黑色的长鼻东方猪，好像受了点伤，身上盖满了苍蝇。在特卡姆河附近，本的车开在最前面，在路上发现了这头猪，就开车追着它跑了四分之一英里。坐在他身旁的日本看守用来复枪向它开了六枪，都没有打中，第七枪才终于打伤了它，本于是能够用一个前轮轧倒它。他们把车停下来，哈曼也在他们后面停车，两位澳洲人和日本看守七手八脚地把猪抬到铁路材料上面。他们在一位暴怒的中国店主面前发动卡车继续上路——那位中国店主声称那头猪是他的财产。哈曼轻声对琴说：“我们不得不让那些浑蛋日本人先吃个饱，并带走一些。交给我，我去看看能不能弄一些来给你们吃。”

209
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当天晚上，那些女人拿到大约三十五磅煮熟的猪肉，它们被分成好几次偷偷摸摸送给他们。他们在椰子商店后面用椰子壳生火，把猪肉放进日本兵送来的米饭里炖着吃。他们吃得很省，再次出发前还可以吃三顿。吃完饭后，他们在屋里或路边闲坐。他们终于能够饱餐一顿，数月来第一次吃上了真正有营养的晚饭。不久，澳洲人过来找他们聊天。

210
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乔·哈曼走到琴面前。“抱歉我不能再给你们送来更多的猪肉了，”他拖着慢悠悠懒洋洋的昆士兰腔调说，“都让那些混账日本人分没了。”

211
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她说：“已经很棒了，乔。我们一直在吃，还留了很多明天吃呢。我都不记得我们上一次吃得这么好是在什么时候了。”

212
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“我觉得这正是你们需要的，”他说，“要我说，你们身上都没有什么肉了。”

213
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他在他们旁边的地上坐下来，坐到一只脚后跟上，用他那种特别的姿势。

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“我知道我们现在很瘦，”琴说，“但已经比之前好看多了。你给我们用来代替芒硝的中药真的是很有效，它把皮肤病都治好了。”

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“很好，”他说，“说不定我们可以从关丹多弄一些给你们。”

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“那头猪真的是上帝赐予的礼物，”她说，“它，还有水果——我们今天买到了一些青椰子。我们一直都很幸运，没有得脚气病什么的。”

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“那是因为我们有新鲜米饭，”弗里思太太出其不意地说，“在乡下，我们能一直吃上新鲜米饭。吃过时的米饭就会患脚气病。”

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澳大利亚人若有所思地坐在那里，嚼着一根棍子。“对你们女士来讲，这真是一种有趣的生活，”他终于开口说道，“落到这么一个地方，吃得跟土著一样。这些日本人会遭报应的，他们作了那么多的孽，迟早有人找他们算账。”

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他转向琴。“你们在马来亚都做什么？”他问道。

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“我们中的大部分人都已经结婚了，”她说，“丈夫在马来亚工作。”

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弗里思太太说：“我丈夫是铁路的地区工程处处长，我们曾经在加影有一间很漂亮的平房。”

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哈曼说：“我想，所有的丈夫都被一起关在另一处吧？”

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“对的，”普莱斯太太说，“我的亚瑟在新加坡。他在波德申时，我听到过他的消息。我想他们都在新加坡。”

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“你们在这种乡下地方走来走去，他们却舒舒服服地待在战俘营里。”他说。

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“是的，”弗里思太太说，“但是，不管怎样，能知道他们没事就很好。”

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“在我看来，”哈曼说，“他们把你们踢来踢去，只是因为他们不知道该如何处置你们。对你们而言，在一个地方安顿下来，一直住到战争结束，应该不会很困难。比如说留在这里就很好。”

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弗里思太太说：“我们一直就这么想。”

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琴说：“我知道。自从弗里思太太提出这个主意，我就一直在考虑它。问题是，日本人给我们提供食物——或者说他们让村子给我们提供食物，却从来不付钱。如果我们要留在村子里，就必须挣钱养活自己，但我不知道我们要怎样才能做得到。”

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哈曼说：“这只是个想法。”

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过了一会儿他说：“我知道我可以上哪儿去找到几只鸡。如果找着了，后天我往北走的时候就捎给你们。”

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琴说：“我们还没付你肥皂的钱呢。”

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“算了，”他慢慢地说，“我也没有拿现金来买它，我用一双日本人的胶靴换来的。”他慢悠悠地告诉他们关于靴子的事情，就像在讲一个冷笑话。“你们得到肥皂，日本人得到一双新靴子，本得到一美元，”他说，“皆大欢喜。”

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琴说：“你打算用同样的方法，给我们找来一只鸡吗？”

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“我会给你们找来一只鸡的，总有办法的，”他说，“你们这些女士需要补充营养。”

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她说：“别再冒险了。”

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“你只需要管好自己的事情，土著太太，”他说，“有什么就拿什么吧。你别无选择。当你沦为战俘，只能有什么就拿什么。”

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她笑道：“好吧。”事实上他叫她土著太太让她很开心，她和这个陌生男人之间，似乎有一种微妙的联系，好像他天生就该拿她的黑皮肤、她的土著穿着，还有她像马来女人那样将婴儿放在臀上的习惯开玩笑似的。“土著”这个词让她记住了澳大利亚，还有那些土著牧工。然后她想起来要问一个问题，部分是出于好奇，部分是由于她知道跟他聊他的祖国会令他愉快。“请告诉我，”她说，“在澳大利亚是不是很热？在你的家乡，是不是比这里还要热？”

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“很热，”他说，“哦，老天，说热就热。沃拉华的气温可以高达一百一十八度——天热的时候。但跟这儿的热不一样。那是一种干热，不像在这儿的时候出那么多汗。”他想了想。“我有一次从马上摔了下来，”他说，“在试图给一匹野马戴上马鞍的时候。我摔断了大腿，被送往了医院。他们用一种灯照着我的大腿，他们叫它紫外线灯，说是能帮助肌肉康复之类的。你们在英国也有这样的东西吗？”

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她点点头。“你们那里的热，就像被那种灯照着一样，是不是？”

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“是的，”他说，“既温暖又干燥，是那种对你有好处，让你想喝冰镇啤酒的热。”

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“那个国家看起来怎么样？”她问道。跟这个男人谈家乡能令他愉快。她想令他愉快，因为他对他们太好了。

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“是红色的，”他说，“整个爱丽丝都是红色的，还有我的家乡也是。红色的土，红色的山。麦克唐奈，莱维斯，还有科诺特，都是红色的大山，坐落在蓝色的天空下。晚上它们会变紫，变成其他各种颜色。雨季过后，山上一片绿油油的。旱季时，它们有一部分变成银色，因为长了三齿桴。”他顿了顿，又道，“我想每个人都会喜欢自己的家园，”他轻轻地说，“爱丽丝周围的乡下地区就是我的家。人们坐甘号列车从阿德莱德和南方来。他们说爱丽丝是个差劲的地方。我只去过阿德莱德一次，我觉得它才差劲呢。斯普林斯周边的地方，对我来讲都很美。”

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他陷入了沉思。“艺术家从南方过来，尝试把它画下来，”他说，“我只见过一个画得像的，他是一个土著，叫作艾伯特，住在赫曼斯堡。有一次有人给了他一把刷子和一些颜料，他就开始画，画出来比任何人都好。哦，老天，他画得真好。但他是个土著，他在画自己的家园。我想正是这个原因使他的画与众不同。”

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他转向琴。“你的家乡在哪里？”他问，“你从哪里来？”

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她说：“南安普敦。”

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“轮船驶往的地方？”

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“是的，就是那里。”她说。

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“那儿是怎么样的？”他问。

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她将婴儿挪到臀上，在纱笼里轻轻晃动双脚。“很安静，很凉快，很开心，”她边想边说，“不是特别美丽，尽管周围有漂亮的乡村——新森林，还有怀特岛。那里是我的家，就像你的斯普林斯。如果我能够熬过去，我就一定要回去，因为我太喜欢它了。”她顿了顿，“那里有个溜冰场，”她说，“当我还在上学的时候，常常在溜冰场上跳舞。总有一天我会回去，再去溜冰场跳舞。”

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“我从来没有见过溜冰场，”从爱丽丝来的男人说，“我有见过照片，在电影里也见过。”

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她说：“那实在是太有趣了……”

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过了一会儿，他起身要走，她像往常一样把婴儿背在臀上，和他一起穿过马路向卡车走去。“我明天没法跟你见面了，”他说，“我们黎明就要出发。但后天我会沿路返回。”

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“我想那天我们应该走在去薄海的路上。”她说。

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“我会看看能不能给你找来那些鸡。”他说。

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她转过身，面对着他，他站在她旁边，在被月光照得发亮的路中央，在热带夜晚的阵阵声响中。“喂，乔，”她说，“如果那意味着麻烦，我们不需要肉。你能给我们找到那些肥皂已经很了不起了。但你确实大大冒了一次险，偷了那家伙的靴子，让人后怕。”

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“那没什么大不了的，”他慢悠悠地说，“只要你能找到窍门，就可以捉弄这些日本人。”

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“你为我们做了很多了，”她说，“这些猪肉，还有药，还有肥皂。过去这几天我们的生活发生了极大的变化。我知道这些东西都是你冒险得来的。请一定要小心。”

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“不用担心我。”他说，“我会尝试找些鸡肉，但如果我发现事情变得很危险，就会放弃。我不会把脖子伸出去让人砍的。”

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“你发誓？”琴问道。

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“不用担心我，”他说，“你自己已经有一堆麻烦事了，老天。只要我们活下来，就一定能熬过去。我们现在要做的就是活下去。活下去，再等两年，等战争结束。”

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“你认为战争会打那么久吗？”她说。

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“关于战争什么的，本比我在行，”他说，“他觉得大概要两年。”他向她微笑。“你们最好能拿到几只鸡。”

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“请务必小心。”她说，“如果你被抓住，并为此付出生命的代价，我一辈子都不会原谅自己。”

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“我不会有事的。”他说。他伸出手，好像要执起她的手，但又放下了。“晚安，土著太太。”他说。

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她笑道：“你要是再叫我土著太太，我就用椰子打碎你的头。晚安，乔。”

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“晚安。”

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他们第二天早上没有看见他，不过听见了卡车开走的声音。那天他们按照习惯在薄卡坡休息，第二天继续步行去薄海。大约中午的时候，哈曼和莱格特驾驶的两辆卡车从他们身边经过，空车往北驶向而连突，两位司机都向女人们挥手致意，她们也挥手回应。坐在司机旁边的日本看守皱了皱眉头。没有鸡从卡车里掉出来，卡车也没有停下来。琴暂时松了一口气。她现在稍微摸到一点这些男人的脾气了。他们会无端把卡车停下来，不论冒多大的危险，都要获得他们认为对女人们有帮助的东西。没有鸡意味着没有麻烦，那一天余下的时间，她继续步行，踏实舒坦。

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当天晚上，他们投宿于薄海的一座房子。一个马来小男孩拿着一个绿色的帆布袋去找琴，说是甘帮的一个中国人让他送来的。袋子里是五只黑色的小公鸡，全部活着，脚被绑住。在东部，家禽一般都是活着运输的。

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它们的到来使琴左右为难。她找弗里思太太商量。她们不可能瞒过看守，暗地里把这些鸡杀死、拔毛并煮熟。看守发现后会问的第一个问题就是，这些公鸡是从哪里来的？如果琴知道这个问题的答案，编起谎话来就容易多了。她们认为，可以说这是用澳洲人给的钱买的，但如果中士问是从薄海什么地方买的，她们就答不上来了。不幸的是，薄海是一个不怎么友好的村子，让村子腾出一间屋子给女人们住都难上加难，而且她们并不寄希望于通过欺骗手段取得村民们的合作。最后她们决定，说她们用澳洲人给的钱买了这些鸡。在薄卡坡的时候，离马路两到三英里开外有一个叫利茂的小村庄，她们在那里付了钱，请村民把这几只小公鸡送到薄海给她们。这是一个不太经得起推敲的故事，一调查就会穿帮，但她们看不出来为什么有人要去调查它。

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她们万分遗憾地做出了一个决定：分一只小公鸡给看守。牺牲一只公鸡作为礼物可以使得中士变得非常友好，同时把他拖下水，让他放弃对这些鸡的来龙去脉展开仔细认真的调查。于是，琴拿着袋子去找中士。

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她向他鞠了一躬，让他的脾气变得好一点。“军曹，”她说，“今晚有好吃的。我们买了鸡。”她打开袋子，给他看躺在底部的几只小公鸡，并伸手进去拿出来一只。“给你。”她使尽浑身解数，尽量让自己看起来天真纯洁一些，微笑着向他说。

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这对他来讲是一个很大的惊喜。他不知道她们这么有钱，从他监视她们那天起，她们一直除了椰子和香蕉之外什么都买不起。“你们买的？”他问。

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她点点头。“从利茂。我们今晚都有很好的食物。”

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“哪来的钱？”他问道。他并没有起疑心，因为她们以前从来没有欺骗过他，他只是感到好奇。

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刹那间，有一个想法闪过琴的脑子：她可以说她们卖掉了一些珠宝。她突然产生了一种迅速的感觉，像直觉一样，就是不提澳洲人会更好。但她把这个想法放在了一旁。她必须坚持这个故事，因为它是她们从各个角度准备和考虑过的。“男战俘给我们钱买鸡，”她说，“他们说我们太瘦。现在我们晚上有好吃的，日本人和战俘都有。”

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他举起两根手指，说：“两只。”

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她怒火中烧。“一只，不是两只，军曹，”她说，“这是给你的礼物，因为你很好，一直带着孩子，而且批准我们慢慢走。只有五只，五只。”她给他看那个袋子，他仔细地数清楚了。直到那个时候，她才发现这几只公鸡大得出奇，而且浑身乌黑，在东方很少见。“一只给你，四只给我们。”

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他把袋子放下，点点头，向她笑笑，把公鸡塞到腋下，往厨房走去——他正在那里做晚饭。

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那天关丹简直像炸开了锅似的。当地的指挥官是一个渚蒲大尉。1943和1944年期间，这位大尉在泰缅铁路沿线的三〇二战俘营做出了诸多暴行，因此于1946年接受了远东国际军事法庭的审判，并被处死。这个故事发生的时候，他在关丹的职责是拆除马来亚东部铁路，将铁路材料送去海边，装船运往暹罗。他住在前任地区委员的房子里，这位地区委员养了一小批来亨鸡，大约有二十只，是在1939年特地从英国进口的。一天早晨，渚蒲大尉醒来时发现他二十只黑来亨鸡中的五只不见了，随之消失的还有一个绿色的袋子，那原来是用来装地区委员的邮件的，现在用来装家禽饲料。

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渚蒲大尉是一个极易动怒的男人。他召来军事警察，命令他们马上展开调查。澳大利亚的卡车司机马上成为嫌疑对象，因为他们在该地区有一些小偷小摸的记录。而且，他们有很多作案机会，他们的工作性质决定了他们有很多自由时间——卡车的维修和加油一般都在漆黑的晚上进行，那时很难知道每一个人的确切位置。军事警察当天就搜查了卡车司机的战俘营，以期发现泄露秘密的羽毛或者袋子，但除了司机们从军需官仓库那里偷来的罐头食物和香烟之外，军警们一无所获。

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渚蒲大尉很不满意，比以往任何时候都要生气。这演变成关乎面子问题的大事，因为小偷胆敢染指指挥官的财产，这种行为明显是对这个职位，甚至是对日本皇军的侮辱。他下令对整个关丹镇进行搜查。第二天，听令于军事警察的部队搜查了每一座房子，势必要找到黑色羽毛和绿色袋子的踪迹。但也是白费工夫。

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大尉日夜冥思苦想，发誓要洗刷掉泼在他制服上的奇耻大辱。他命令对他手下士兵的兵舍进行搜查，但同样毫无发现。

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还有一条线索。有三辆由澳洲人开的卡车是沿着大路往北走的，或者从而连突开过来。第二天渚蒲派了一辆轻便的卡车，配备了四名军事警察，出发去搜查这些卡车，审讯司机、看守以及任何有可能知情的人。在薄海和布拉特之间，他们遇到一群女人和孩子，这群人正背着包裹沿路往南走。一个日本中士走在最前面，一边肩上挂着来复枪，另一边挂着一个绿色的袋子。卡车尖声刹车，停了下来。

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在接下来的两个小时里，琴坚持说她的故事：她用澳洲人给的钱在利茂买了这些鸡。他们把她赶到路中央，对她进行刑讯逼供，连续不断地问她重复的问题：当他们觉得她走神了，就扇她耳光，踢她小腿，或者穿着军靴踩在她的光脚上。她用绝望的决心坚持讲这个故事，知道它太蹩脚，知道他们不相信她，但她不知道除此之外还可以说什么。最后，由三辆卡车组成的车队沿路开了过来。第二辆车的司机，乔·哈曼，马上被中士认了出来，并被用刺刀押着带到琴面前。军警的中士说：“是这个男人吗？”

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琴绝望地说：“我一直在告诉他们你给了我们四美元，让我们拿去买鸡吃，乔，但是他们不相信我。”

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军警说：“你们从大尉那里偷来这些鸡。这就是那个包。”

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牧工看着那个女子血淋淋的脸和脚。“放开她，你们这些该死的浑蛋，”他用慢腾腾的昆士兰腔调愤怒地说，“是我偷了这些该死的鸡，是我把它们给了她。那又怎么样？”

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黑暗渐渐笼罩住我在伦敦的起居室。那是一个风雨交加的下午，暮色提前降临。雨仍旧打在窗户上。琴坐在那里，凝视着火焰，沉浸在她悲伤的记忆中。“他们残杀了他。”她轻轻地说，“他们把我们全部带到了关丹，把他的手钉在树上，残忍地打死了他。我们被迫站在旁边，看着他们行刑。”

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They stayed in Klang eleven days, not knowing what was to become of them. The food was bad and insufficient, and there were no shops in the vicinity: if there had been shops they could not have done much with them, because their money was now practically gone. On the twelfth day Major Nemu paraded them at half an hour’s notice, allocated one corporal to look after them, and told them to walk to Port Dickson. He said that there might be a ship there to take them down to Singapore; if there was not they would be walking in the general direction of the prison camps.

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That was about the middle of March 1942. From Klang to Port Dickson is about fifty miles, but by this time they were travelling more slowly than ever. It took them till the end of the month; they had to wait several days in one village because Mrs Horsefall went down with malaria and ran a temperature of a hundred and five for some time. She recovered and was walking, or rather tottering, within a week, but she never recovered her vigour and from that time onwards the leadership fell more and more upon Jean’s shoulders.

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By the time they reached Port Dickson their clothes were in a deplorable condition. Very few of the women had a change of any sort, because burdens had been reduced to an absolute minimum. Jean and Mrs Holland had nothing but the thin cotton frocks that they had worn since they were taken; these were now torn and ragged from washing. Jean had gone barefoot since the early stages of the march and intended to go on without shoes: she now took another step towards the costume of the Malay woman. She sold a little brooch for thirteen dollars to an Indian jeweller in Salak, and with two of the precious dollars she bought a cheap sarong.

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A sarong is a skirt made of a tube of cloth about three feet in diameter; you get into it and wrap it round your waist like a towel; the surplus material falling into pleats that permit free movement. When you sleep you undo the roll around your waist and it then lies over you as a loose covering that you cannot roll out of. It is the lightest and coolest of all garments for the tropics, and the most practical, being simple to make and to wash. For a top, she cut down her cotton frock into a sort of tunic which got rid of the most tattered part, the skirt, and from that time she was cooler and more at ease than any of them. At first the other women strongly disapproved of this descent to native dress: later most of them followed her example as their clothes became worn out.

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There was no haven for them at Port Dickson, and no ship. They were allowed to stay there, living under desultory guard in a copra barn, for about ten days; the Japanese commander then decided that they were a nuisance, and put them on the road to Seremban. He reasoned, apparently, that they were not his prisoners and so not his responsibility; it was the duty of those who had captured them to put them into a camp. His obvious course was to get rid of them and get them out of his area before, by their continued presence, they forced him to divert food and troops and medical supplies from the Imperial Japanese Army to sustain them.

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At Siliau, between Port Dickson and Seremban, tragedy touched the Holland family, because Jane died. They had stayed for their day of rest in a rubber-smoking shed: she had developed fever during the day’s march and one of the two Japanese guards they had at that time had carried her for much of the day. Their thermometer had been broken in an accident a few days before and they had now no means of telling the temperature of malaria patients, but she was very hot. They had a little quinine left and tried to give it to her, but they could not get her to take much of it till she grew too weak to resist, and then it was too late. They persuaded the Japanese sergeant to allow them to stay at Siliau rather than to risk moving the child, and Jean and Eileen Holland stayed up with her, sleepless, fighting for her life in that dim, smelly place where the rats scurried round at night and hens walked in and out by day. On the evening of the second day she died.

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Mrs Holland stood it far better than Jean had expected that she would.“It’s God’s will, my dear,”she said quietly,“and He’ll give her Daddy strength to bear it when he hears, just as He’s giving us all strength to bear our trials now.”She stood dry-eyed beside the little grave, and helped to make the little wooden cross. Dry-eyed she picked the text for the cross:“Suffer little children to come unto Me”. She said quietly,“I think her Daddy would like that one.”

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Jean woke that night in the darkness, and heard her weeping.

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Through all this the baby, Robin, throve. It was entirely fortuitous that he ate and drank nothing but food that had been recently boiled; living on rice and soup, that happened automatically, but may have explained his relative freedom from stomach disorders. Jean carried him every day, and her own health was definitely better than when they had left Panong. She had had five days of fever at Klang, but dysentery had not troubled her for some time, and she was eating well. With the continual exposure to the sun she was getting very brown, and the baby that she carried on her hip got browner.

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Seremban lies on the railway, and they had hoped that when they got there there would be a train down to Singapore. They got to Seremban about the middle of April, but there was no train for them; the railway was running in a limited fashion but probably not through to Singapore. Before very long they were put upon the road to Tampin, but not till they had lost another member of the party.

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Ellen Forbes was the unmarried girl who had come out to get married and hadn’t, a circumstance that Jean could well understand by the time she had lived in close contact with her for a couple of months. Ellen was a vacuous, undisciplined girl, good humoured, and much too free with Japanese troops for the liking of the other women. At Seremban they were accommodated in a schoolhouse on the outskirts of the town, which was full of soldiers. In the morning Ellen simply wasn’t there, and they never saw her again.

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Jean and Mrs Horsefall asked to see the officer and stated their case, that a member of their party had disappeared, probably abducted by the soldiers. The officer promised to make inquiries, and nothing happened. Two days later they received orders to march down the road to Tampin, and were moved off under guard.

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They stayed at Tampin for some days, and got so little food there that they practically starved; at their urgent entreaty the local commandant sent them down under guard to Malacca, where they hoped to get a ship. But there was no ship at Malacca and the officer in charge there sent them back to Tampin. They plodded back there in despair; at Alor Gajah Judy Thomson died. To stay at Tampin meant more deaths, inevitably, so they suggested it was better for them to continue down to Singapore on foot, and a corporal was detailed to take them on the road to Gemas.

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In the middle of May, at Ayer Kuning, on the way to Gemas, Mrs Horsefall died. She had never really recovered from her attack of malaria or whatever fever it was that had attacked her two months previously; she had had recurrent attacks of low fever which had made Jean wonder sometimes if it was malaria that she had had at all. Whatever it was it had made her very weak; at Ayer Kuning she developed dysentery again, and died in two days, probably of heart failure or exhaustion. The faded little woman Mrs Frith, who was over fifty and always seemed to be upon the point of death and never quite made it, took over the care of Johnnie Horsefall and it did her a world of good; from that day Mrs Frith improved and gave up moaning in the night.

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They got to Gemas, three days later; here as usual in towns they were put into the schoolhouse. The Japanese town major, a Captain Nisui, came to inspect them that evening; he had known nothing about them till they appeared in his town. This was quite usual and Jean was ready for it; she explained that they were prisoners being marched to camp in Singapore.

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He said,“Prisoner not go Singapore. Strict order. Where you come from?”

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She told him.“We’ve been travelling for over two months,”she said, with the calmness borne of many disappointments.“We must get into a camp, or we shall die. Seven of us have died upon the road already—there were thirty-two when we were taken prisoner. Now there are twenty-five. We can’t go on like this. We must get into camp at Singapore. You must see that.”

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He said,“No more prisoner to Singapore. Very sorry for you, but strict order. Too many prisoner in Singapore.”

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She said,“But, Captain Nisui, that can’t mean women. That means men prisoners, surely.”

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“No more prisoner to Singapore,”he said.“Strict order.”

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“Well, can we stay here and make ourselves a camp, and have a doctor here?”

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His eyes narrowed.“No prisoner stay here.”

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“But what are we to do? Where can we go?”

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“Very sad for you,”he said.“I tell you where you go tomorrow.”

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She went back to the women after he had gone.“You heard all that,”she said calmly.“He says we aren’t to go to Singapore after all.”

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The news meant very little to the women; they had fallen into the habit of living from day to day, and Singapore was very far away.“Looks as if they don’t want us anywhere,”Mrs Price said heavily.“Bobbie, if I see you teasing Amy again I’ll wallop you just like your father. Straight, I will.”

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Mrs Frith said,“If they’d just let us alone we could find a little place like one of them villages and live till it’s all over.”

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Jean stared at her.“They couldn’t feed us,”she said slowly.“We depend upon the Nips for food.”But it was the germ of an idea, and she put it in the back of her mind.

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“Precious little food we get,”said Mrs Frith.“I’ll never forget that terrible place Tampin in all my born days.”

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Captain Nisui came the next day.“You go now to Kuantan,”he said.“Woman camp in Kuantan, very good. You will be very glad.”

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Jean did not know where Kuantan was. She asked,“Where is Kuantan? Is it far away?”

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“Kuantan on coast,”he said.“You go there now.”

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Behind her someone said,“It’s hundreds of miles away. It’s on the east coast.”

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“Okay,”said Captain Nisui.“On east coast.”

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“Can we go there by railway?”Jean inquired.

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“Sorry, no railway. You walk, ten, fifteen miles each day. You get there soon. You will be very happy.”

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She said quietly,“Seven of us are dead already with this marching, Captain. If you make us march to this place Kuantan more of us will die. Can we have a truck to take us there?”

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“Sorry, no truck,”he said.“You get there very soon.”

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He wanted them to start immediately, but it was then eleven in the morning and they rebelled. With patient negotiation Jean got him to agree that they should start at dawn next day; this was the most that she could do. She did, however, get him to provide a good supper for them that night, a sort of meat stew with the rice, and a banana each.

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From Gemas to Kuantan is about a hundred and seventy miles; there is no direct road. They left Gemas in the last week of May; on the basis of their previous rate of progress Jean reckoned that it would take them six weeks to do the journey. It was by far the longest they had had to tackle; always before there had been hope of transport of some sort at the end of fifty miles or so. Now six weeks of travelling lay ahead of them, with only a vague hope of rest at the end. None of them really believed that there were prison camps for them at Kuantan.

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“You made a mistake, dearie,”said Mrs Frith,“saying what you did about us staying and making a camp here. I could see he didn’t like that.”

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“He just wants to get rid of us,”Jean said wearily.“They don’t want to bother with us—just get us out of the way.”

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They left next morning with a sergeant and a private as a guard. Gemas is a railway junction and the East Coast railway runs north from there; the railway was not being used at all at that time, and there was a rumour that the track was being taken up and sent to some unknown strategic destination in the north. The women were not concerned with that; what concerned them was that they had to walk along the railway line, which meant nearly walking in the sun most of each day, and there was no possibility of getting a ride in a train.

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They went on for a week, marching about ten miles every other day; then fever broke out among the children. They never really knew what it was; it started with little Amy Price, who came out in a rash and ran a high temperature, with a running nose. It may have been measles. It was impossible in the conditions of their life to keep the children segregated, and in the weeks that followed it spread from child to child. Amy Price slowly recovered, but by the time she was fit to walk again seven of the other children were down with it. There was nothing they could do except to keep the tired, sweating little faces bathed and cool, and change the soaked clothes for what fresh ones they could muster. They were at a place called Bahau when the sickness was at its height, living at the station in the ticket office and the waiting-room, and on the platform. They had bad luck because there had been a doctor in Bahau three days before they arrived, a Japanese army doctor. But he had gone on in his truck in the direction of Kuala Klawang, and though they got the headman to send runners after him they never made contact with him. So they had no help.

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At Bahau four children died, Harry Collard, Susan Fletcher, Doris Simmonds, who was only three, and Freddie Holland. Jean was most concerned with Freddie, as was natural, but there was so little she could do. She guessed from the first day of fever that he was going to die; by that time she had amassed a store of sad experience. There was something in the attitude of people, even tiny children, to their illness that told when death was coming to them, a listlessness, as if they were too tired to make the effort to live. By that time they had all grown hardened to the fact of death. Grief and mourning had ceased to trouble them; death was a reality to be avoided and fought, but when it came—well, it was just one of those things. After a person had died there were certain things that had to be done, the straightening of the limbs, the grave, the cross, the entry in a diary saying who had died and just exactly where the grave was. That was the end of it; they had no energy for afterthoughts.

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Jean’s care now was for Mrs Holland. After Freddie was buried she tried to get Eileen to care for the baby; for the last few weeks the baby had been left to Jean to feed and tend and carry, and the had grown very much attached to it. With both the older children dead Jean gave the baby, Robin, back to its mother, not so much because she wanted to get rid of it as because she felt that an interest must be found for Eileen Holland, and the baby would supply it. But the experiment was not a great success; Eileen by that time was so weak that she could not carry the baby on the march, and she could not summon the energy to play with it. Moreover, the baby obviously preferred the younger woman to its mother, having been carried by her for so long.

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“Seems as if he doesn’t really belong to me,”Mrs Holland said once.“You take him, dear. He likes being with you.”From that time on they shared the baby; it got its rice and soup from Eileen, but it got its fun from Jean.

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They left four tiny graves behind the signal box at Bahau and went on down the line carrying two litters of bamboo poles; the weakest children took turns in these. As was common on the journey, they found the Japanese guards to be humane and reasonable men, uncouth in their habits and mentally far removed from western ideas, but tolerant to the weaknesses of women and deeply devoted to children. For hours the sergeant would plod along carrying one child piggyback and at the same time carrying one end of the stretcher, his rifle laid beside the resting child. There was the usual language difficulty. The women by that time were acquiring a few words of Japanese, but the only one who could talk Malay fluently was Jean, and it was she who made inquiries at the villages and sometimes acted as interpreter for the Japanese.

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Mrs Frith surprised Jean very much. She was a faded, anaemic little woman of over fifty. In the early stages of the journey she had been very weak and something of a nuisance to them with her continued prognostications of evil; they had trouble enough in the daily round without looking forward and anticipating more. Since she had adopted Johnnie Horsefall Mrs Frith had taken on a new lease of life; her health had improved and she now marched as strongly as any of them. She had lived in Malaya for about fifteen years; she could speak only a few words of the language but she had a considerable knowledge of the country and its diseases. She was quite happy that they were going to Kuantan.“Nice over there, it is,”she said.“Much healthier than in the west, and nicer people. We’ll be all right once we get over there. You see.”

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As time went on, Jean turned to Mrs Frith more and more for comfort and advice in their predicaments.

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At Ayer Kring Mrs Holland came to the end of her strength. She had fallen twice on the march and they had taken turns in helping her along. It was impossible to put her on the litter; even in her emaciated state she weighed eight stone, and they were none of them strong enough by that time to carry such a load very far. Moreover, to put her on a litter meant turning a child off it, and she refused even to consider such a thing. She stumbled into the village on her own feet, but by the time she got there she was changing colour as Mrs Collard had before her, and that was a bad sign.

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Ayer Kring is a small village at a railway station; there were no station buildings here, and by negotiation the headman turned the people out of one house for them, as had been done several times before. They laid Mrs Holland in a shady corner and made a pillow for her head and bathed her face; they had no brandy or any other stimulant to give her. She could not rest lying down and insisted on sitting up, so they put her in a corner where she could be supported by the walls. She took a little soup that evening but refused all food. She knew herself it was the end.

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“I’m so sorry, my dear,”she whispered late in the night.“Sorry to make so much trouble for you. Sorry for Bill. If you see Bill again, tell him not to fret. And tell him not to mind about marrying again, if he can find somebody nice. It’s not as if he was an old man.”

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An hour or two later she said,“I do think it’s lovely the way baby’s taken to you. It is lucky, isn’t it?”

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In the morning she was still alive, but unconscious. They did what they could, which wasn’t very much, but her breathing got weaker and weaker, and at about midday she died. They buried her in the Moslem village cemetery that evening.

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At Ayer Kring they entered the most unhealthy district they had passed through yet. The central mountains of Malaya were now on their left, to the west of them as they marched north, and they were coming to the head waters of the Pahang river, which runs down to the east coast. Here the river spreads out into numerous tributaries, the Menkuang, the Pertang, the Belengu, and many others, and these tributaries running through flat country make a marshy place of swamps and mangroves that stretched for forty miles along their route, a country full of snakes and crocodiles, and infested with mosquitoes. By day it was steamy and hot and breathless; at night a cold wet mist came up and chilled them unmercifully.

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By the time they had been two days in this country several of them were suffering from fever, a fever that did not seen quite like the malaria that they were used to, in that the temperature did not rise so high; it may have been dengue. They had little by that time to treat it with, not so much because they were short of money as because there were no drugs at all in the jungly villages that they were passing through. Jean consulted with the sergeant, who advised them to press on, and get out of this bad country as soon as possible. Jean was running a fever herself at the time and everything was moving about her in a blur; she had a cracking headache and it was difficult to focus her eyes. She consulted with Mrs Frith, who was remarkably well.

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“What he says is right, dearie,”Mrs Frith declared.“We won’t get any better staying in this swampy place. I think we ought to walk each day, if you ask me.”

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Jean forced herself to concentrate.“What about Mrs Simmonds?”

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“Maybe the soldiers would carry her, if she gets any worse. I don’t know, I’m sure. It’s cruel hard, but if we’ve got to go we’d better go and get it over. That’s what I say. We shan’t do any good hanging around here in this nasty place.”

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They marched each day after that, stumbling along in fever, weak, and ill. The baby, Robin Holland, that Jean carried, got the fever; this was the first ailment he had had. She showed him to the headman in the village of Mentri, and his wife produced a hot infusion of some bark in a dirty coconut shell; Jean tasted it and it was very bitter, so she judged it to be a form of quinine. She gave a little to the baby and took some herself; it seemed to do them both good during the night. Before the day’s march began several of the women took it, and it helped.

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It took them eleven days to get through the swamps to the higher ground past Temerloh. They left Mrs Simmonds and Mrs Fletcher behind them, and little Gillian Thomson. When they emerged into the higher, healthier country and dared to stay a day to rest, Jean was very weak but the fever had left her. The baby was still alive, though obviously ill; it cried almost incessantly during its waking hours.

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It was Mrs Frith who now buoyed them up, as she had depressed them in the earlier days.“It should be getting better all the time from now on,”she told them.“As we get nearer to the coast it should get better. It’s lovely on the east coast, nice beaches to bathe on, and always a sea breeze. It’s healthy, too.”

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They came presently to a very jungly village on a hilltop; they never learned its name. It stood above the river Jengka. By this time they had left the railway and were heading more or less eastwards on a jungle track that would at some time join a main road that led down to Kuantan. This village was cool and airy, and the people kind and hospitable; they gave the women a house to sleep in and provided food and fresh fruit, and the same bark infusion that was good for fever. They stayed there for six days revelling in the fresh, cool breeze and the clear, healthy nights, and when they finally marched on they were in better shape. They left a little gold brooch that had belonged to Mrs Fletcher with the headman as payment for the food and kindness that they had received, thinking that the dead woman would not have objected to that.

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Four days later, in the evening, they came to Maran. A tarmac road runs through Maran crossing the Malay peninsula from Kuantan to Kerling. The road runs through the village, which has perhaps fifty houses, a school, and a few native stops. They came out upon the road half a mile or so to the north of the village; after five weeks upon the railway track and jungle paths it overjoyed them to see evidence of civilization in this road. They walked down to the village with a fresher step. And there, in front of them, they saw two trucks and two white men working on them while Japanese guards stood by.

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They marched quickly towards the trucks, which were both heavily loaded with railway lines and sleepers; they stood pointing in the direction of Kuantan. One of them was jacked up on sleepers taken from the load, and both of the white men were underneath it working on the back axle. They wore shorts and army boots without socks; their bodies were brown with sunburn and very dirty with the muck from the back axle. But they were healthy and muscular men, lean, but in good physical condition. And they were white, the first white men that the women had seen for five months.

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They crowded round the trucks; their guard began to talk in staccato Japanese with the truck guards. One of the men lying on his back under the axle, shifting spanner in hand, glanced at the bare feet and the sarongs within his range of vision and said slowly,“Tell the mucking Nip to get those mucking women shifted back so we can get some light.”

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Some of the women laughed, and Mrs Frith said,“Don’t you go using that language to me, young man.”

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The men rolled out from under the truck and sat staring at the women and the children, at the brown skins, the sarongs, the bare feet.“Who said that?”asked the man with the spanner.“Which of you speaks English?”He spoke deliberately in a slow drawl, with something of a pause between each word.

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Jean said laughing,“We’re all English.”

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He stared at her, noting the black hair plaited in a pigtail, the brown arms and feet, the sarong, the brown baby on her hip. There was a line of white skin showing on her chest at the V of her tattered blouse.“Straits-born?”he hazarded.

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“No , real English—all of us,”she said.“We’re prisoners.”

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He got to his feet; he was a fair-haired powerfully built man about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.“Dinky-die?”he said.

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She did not understand that.“Are you prisoners?”she asked.

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He smiled slowly.“Are we prisoners?”he repeated.“Oh my word.”

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There was something about this man that she had never met before.“Are you English?”she asked.

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“No fear,”he said in his deliberate way.“We’re Aussies.”

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She said,“Are you in camp here?”

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He shook his head.“We come from Kuantan,”he said.“But we’re driving trucks all day, fetching this stuff down to the coast.

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She said,“We’re going to Kuantan, to the women’s camp there.”

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He stared at her.“That’s crook for a start,”he said slowly.“There isn’t any women’s camp at Kuantan. There isn’t any regular prisoner camp at all, just a little temporary camp for us because we’re truck drivers. Who told you that there was a women’s camp at Kuantan?”

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“The Japanese told us. They’re supposed to be sending us there.”She sighed.“It’s just another lie.”

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“The bloody Nips say anything.”He smiled slowly.“I thought you were a lot of boongs,”he said.“You say you’re English, dinky-die? All the way from England?”

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She nodded.“That’s right. Some of us have been out here for ten or fifteen years, but we’re all English.”

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“And the kiddies—they all English too?”

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“All of them,”she said.

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He smiled slowly.“I never thought the first time that I spoke to an English lady she’d be looking like you.”

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“You aren’t exactly an oil painting yourself,”Jean said.

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The other man was talking to a group of the women; Mrs Frith and Mrs Price were with Jean. The Australian turned to them.“Where do you come from?”he inquired.

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Mrs Frith said,“We got took in Panong, over on the west coast, waiting for a boat to get away.”

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“But where did you come from now?”

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Jean said,“We’re being marched to Kuantan.”

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“Not all the way from Panong?”

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She laughed shortly.“We’ve been everywhere—Port Swettenham, Port Dickson—everywhere. Nobody wants us. I reckon that we’ve walked nearly five hundred miles.”

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“Oh my word,”he said.“That sounds a crook deal to me. How do you go on for tucker, if you aren’t in a camp?”

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She did not understand him.“Tucker?”

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“What do you get to eat?”

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“We stay each night in a village,”she said.“We’ll have to find somewhere to stay here. Probably in a place like this it’ll be the school. We eat what we can get in the village.”

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“For Christ’s sake,”he said.“Wait while I tell my cobber.”He swung round to the other.“You heard about the crook deal that they got?”he said.“Been walking all the time since they got taken. Never been inside a prison camp at all.”

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“They’ve been telling me,”the other said.“The way these bloody Nips go on. Makes you chunda.”

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The first man turned back to Jean.“What happens if any of you get sick?”

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She said cynically,“When you get sick, you get well or you die. We haven’t seen a doctor for the last three months and we’ve got practically no medicines left, so we mostly die. There were thirty-two of us when we were taken. Now we’re seventeen.”

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The Australian said softly,“Oh my word.”

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Jean said,“Will you be staying here tonight?”

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He said,“Will you?”

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“We shall stay here,”she said.“We shall be here tomorrow too, unless they’ll let us ride down on your trucks. We can’t march the children every day. We walk one day and rest the next.”

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He said,“If you’re staying, Mrs Boong, we’re staying too. We can fix this bloody axle so it will never roll again, if needs be.”He paused in slow thought.“You got no medicines?”he said.“What do you want?”

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She said quickly,“Have you got any Glauber’s salt?”

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He shook his head.“Is that what you want?”

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“We haven’t got any salts at all,”she said“We want quinine, and something for all these skin diseases that the children have got. Can we get those here?”

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He said slowly,“I’ll have a try. Have you got any money?”

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Mrs Frith snorted,“After being six months with the Japs? They took everything we had. Even our wedding rings.”

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Jean said,“We’ve got a few little bits of jewellery left, if we could sell some of those.”

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He said,“I’ll have a go first, and see what I can do. You get fixed up with somewhere to sleep, and I’ll see you later.”

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“All right.”

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She went back to their sergeant and bowed to him because that pleased him and made things easier for them. She said,“Gunso, where yasme tonight? Children must yasme. We see headman about yasme and mishi?”

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He came with her and they found the headman, and negotiated for the loan of the schoolbuilding for the prisoners, and for the supply of rice for mishi. They did not now experience the blank refusals that they formerly had met when the party was thirty strong; the lesser numbers had made accommodation and food much easier for them. They settled into the school building and began the routine of chores and washing that occupied the bulk of their spare time. The news that there was no women prisoners’ camp in Kuantan was what they had all secretly expected, but it was a disappointment, none the less. The novelty of the two Australians made up for this, because by that time they were living strictly from day to day.

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At the trucks the Aussies got back to their work. With heads close together under the axle, the fair-haired man that Jean had talked to said to his cobber,“I never heard such a crook deal. What can we do to fix this bastard so as we stay here tonight? I said I’d try and get some medicines for them.”

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They had already rectified the binding brake that had heated up the near side hub and caused the stoppage. The other said,“Take the whole bloody hub off for a dekko, ’n pull out the shaft from the diff. That makes a good show of dirty bits. Means sleeping in the trucks.”

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“I said I’d try and get some medicines.”They worked on for a little.

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“How you going to do that?”

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“Petrol, I suppose. That’s easiest.”

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It was already growing dark when they extracted four feet of heavy metal shafting, splined at both ends, from the back axle; dripping with black oil they showed it to the Japanese corporal in charge of them as evidence of their industry.“Yasme here tonight,”they said. The guard was suspicious, but agreed; indeed, he could do nothing else. He went off to arrange for rice for them, leaving them in charge of the private. Who was with him.

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On the excuse of a benjo, the fair-haired man left the trucks and in the half light retired behind a house. He slipped quickly down behind a row of houses, and came out into the street a couple of hundred yards down, towards the end of the village. Here there was a Chinaman who ran a decrepit bus; the Australian had noted this place on various journeys through Maran; they plied regularly up and down this road.

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In his deliberate manner he said quietly,“Johnnie, you buy petrol? How much you give?”It is extraordinary how little barrier an unknown language makes between a willing buyer and a willing seller. At one point in the negotiation they resorted to the written word, and the Australian wrote GLAUBER’S SALT and QUININE and SKIN DISEASE OINTMENT in block letters on a scrap of wrapping paper.

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He slunk back behind the houses carrying three two-gallon cans and a length of rubber hose, which he hid behind the latrine. He came back to the trucks presently, ostentatiously buttoning his shorts.

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In the darkness, early in the night, he came to the school-house; it may have been about ten o’clock. One of the Japanese soldiers was supposed to be on guard all night, but in the five weeks that they had been with this pair of guards the women had not shown the slightest inclination to escape, and their guards had long given up watching them at night. The Australian had made sure where they were, however, and when he had seen them squatting with the truck guards he came silently to the school.

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At the open door he paused, and said quietly,“Which of you ladies was I talking to this afternoon? The one with the baby.”

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Jean was asleep; they woke her and she pulled up her sarong and slipped her top on, and came to the door. He had several little packages for her.“That’s quinine,”he said.“I can get more of that if you want it. I couldn’t get Glauber’s, but this is what the Chinese take for dysentery. It’s all written in Chinese, but what he says it means is three of these leaves powdered up in warm water every four hours. That’ll be for a grown-up person. If it’s any good, keep the label and maybe you could get some more in a Chinese drug shop. I got this Zam-Buk for the skin, and there’s more of that if you want it.”

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She took them gratefully from him.“That’s marvellous,”she said softly.“How much did it all cost?”

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“That’s all right,”he said in his deliberate manner.“The Nips paid, but they don’t know it.”

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She thanked him again.“What are you doing here?”she asked.“Where are you going with the trucks?”

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“Kuantan,”he said.“We should be back there tonight, but Ben Leggatt—he’s my cobber—he got the truck in bits so we had to give it away. Get down there tomorrow, or we might stretch it another day if it suits, though it’ld be risky, I think.”He told her that there were six of them driving six trucks for the Japanese; they drove regularly from Kuantan up-country to a place upon the railway called Jerantut, a distance of about a hundred and thirty miles. They would drive up one day and load the truck with sleepers and railway lines taken up from the track, and drive back to Kuantan the next day, where the railway material was unloaded on to the quayside to be taken away by ship to some unknown destination.“Building another railway somewhere, I suppose,”he said. A hundred and thirty miles is a long way to drive a heavily loaded truck in a day in tropical conditions, and they sometimes failed to reach Kuantan before dark; when that happened they spent the night in a village. Their absence would not be remarked particularly at Kuantan.

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He had been taken somewhere in Johore, and had been driving trucks from Kuantan for about two months.“Better than being in a camp,”he said.

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She sat down on the top step of the three that led up to the school, and he squatted down before her on the ground. His manner of sitting intrigued her, because he sat down on one heel somewhat in the manner of a native, but with his left leg extended.“Are you a truck driver in Australia?”she asked.

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“No bloody fear,”he said.“I’m a ringer.”

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She asked,“What’s a ringer?”

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“A stockman,”he said.“I was born in Queensland out behind Cloncurry, and my people, they’re all Queenslanders. My dad, he came from London, from a place called Hammersmith: He used to drive a cab and so he knew about horses, and he came out to Queensland to work for Cobb and Co., and met Ma. But I’ve not been back to the Curry for some time. I was working in the Territory over to the west, on a station called Wollara. That’s about a hundred and ten miles south-west of the Springs.”

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She smiled.“Where’s the Springs, then?”

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“Alice,”he said.“Alice Springs. Right in the middle of Australia, half way between Darwin and Adelaide.”

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She said,“I thought the middle of Australia was all desert?”

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He was concerned at her ignorance.“Oh my word,”he said deliberately.“Alice is a bonza place. Plenty of water in Alice; people living there, they leave the sprinkler on all night, watering the lawn. That’s right, they leave the sprinkler on all night. Course, the Territory’s dry in most parts, but there’s usually good feed along the creeks. Come to that, there’s water all over if you look for it. You take a creek that only runs in the wet, now, say a couple of months in the year, or else not that. You get a sandy billabong, and you’ll get water there by digging not a foot below the surface, like as not—even in the middle of the dry.”His slow, even tones were strangely comforting.“You go to a place like that and you’ll find little diggings all over in the sand, where the kangaroos and euros have dug for water. They know where to go. There’s water all over in the outback, but you’ve got to know where to find it.”

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“What do you do at this place Wollara?”she asked.“Do you look after sheep?”

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He shook his head.“You don’t find sheep around the Alice region,”he said.“It’d be too hot for them. Wollara is a cattle station.”

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“How many cattle have you got?”

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“About eighteen thousand when I come away,”he said.“It goes up and down, according to the wet, you know.”

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“Eighteen thousand? How big is it?”

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“Wollara? About two thousand seven hundred.”

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“Two thousand seven hundred acres,”she said.“That’s a big place.”

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He stared at her.“Not acres,”he said.“Square miles. Wollara’s two thousand seven hundred square miles.”

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She was startled.“But is that all one place—one farm, I mean?”

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“It’s one station,”he replied.“One property.”

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“But however many of you does it take to run it?”

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His mind ran lovingly around the well-remembered scene.“There’s Mr Duveen, Tommy Duveen —he’s the manager, and then me—I’m the head stockman, or I was. Tommy said he’d keep a place for me when I got back. I’d like to get back to Wollara again, one day...”He mused a little.“We had three other ringers—whites,”he said.“Then there was Happy, and Moonlight, and Nugget, and Snowy, and Tarmac...”He thought for a minute.“Nine boongs we had,”he said.“That’s all.”

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“Nine what?”

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“Black boys—black stockmen. Abos.”

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“But that’s only thirteen men,”she said.

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“That’s right. Fourteen if you count Mr Duveen.”

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“But can fourteen men look after all those cattle?”she asked.

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“Oh yes,”he said thoughtfully.“Wollara is an easy station, in a way, because it hasn’t got any fences. It’s fences make the work. We’ve got the Palmer River and the Levi Range to the north, and the sand country over to the west; the cattle don’t go there. Then there’s the Kernot Range to the south and Mount Ormerod and the Twins to the east. Fourteen men is all right for a station like that; it would be easier if we had more whites, but you can’t get them. These bloody boongs, they’re always going walkabout.”

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“What’s that?”she asked.

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“walkabout? Why, an Abo ringer, he’ll come up one day and he’ll say, ‘Boss, I go walkabout now.’ You can’t keep him. He’ll leave the station and go wandering off just in a pair of pants and an old hat with a gun if he’s got one, or a spear and a throwing stick, maybe, and he’ll be away two or three months.”

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“But where does he go to?”she asked.

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“Just travels. They go a long way on a walkabout—oh my word,”he said.“Four or five hundred miles, maybe. Then when he’s had enough, he’ll come back to the station and join up for work again. But the trouble with the boongs is, you never know if they’ll be there next week.”

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There was a short silence; they sat quietly in the tropic night together on the steps of the atap schoolhouse, exiles far from their homes. Over their heads the flying foxes swept in the moonlight with a dry rustling of leathery wings.“Eighteen thousand cattle...”she said thoughtfully.

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“More or less,”he said.“Get a good wet, and it’ll maybe rise to twenty-one or twenty-two thousand. Then you get a dry year, and it’ll go right down to twelve or thirteen thousand. I reckon we lose about three thousand every year by drought.”

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“But can’t you get them to water?”

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He smiled slowly.“Not with fourteen men. There’s enough cattle die of thirst each year in the Territory and Northern Queensland to feed the whole of England. Course, the horses make it worse on Wollara.”

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“Horses?”

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“Oh my word,”he said.“We’ve got about three thousand brumbies, but you can’t do nothing with them—they’re vermin. Wollera used to be a horse station years ago, selling horses to the Indian Army, but you can’t sell horses now. We use a few, of course—maybe a hundred, with packhorses and that. You can’t get rid of them except by shooting, and you’ll never get a ringer to shoot horses. They eat the feed the cattle ought to get, and spoil it, too. Cattle don’t like feeding where a horse has been.”

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She asked,“How big is Wollara—how long, and how wide?”

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He said,“Oh, I’d say about ninety miles from east to west, and maybe forty-five to fifty, north to south, at the widest part. But it’s a good station to manage, because the homestead is near the middle, so it’s not so far in any one way. Over to the Kernot Range is the furthest; that’s about sixty miles.”

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“Sixty miles from the homestead? That’s where you live?”

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“That’s right.”

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“Are there any other homesteads on it?”

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He stared at her.“There’s only the one homestead on each station. Some have an outstation, a shack of some kind where the boys can leave blankets and maybe a little tucker, but not many.”

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“How long does it take you to get to the furthest point, then—to the Kernot Range?”

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“Over to the Range? Oh well, to go there and come back might take about a week. That’s with horses; in a utility you might do it in a day and a half. But horses are best, although they’re a bit slow. You never take a packhorse faster’n a walk, not if you can help it. It isn’t like you see it on the movies, people galloping their horses everywhere—oh my word. You’d soon wear out a horse if you used him that way in the Territory.”

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They sat together for over an hour, talking quietly at the entrance to the schoolhouse. At the end the ringer got up from his strange posture on the ground, and said,“I mustn’t stay any longer, case those Nips come back and start creating. My cobber, too—he’ll be wondering what happened to me. I left him to boil up.”

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Jean got to her feet.“It’s been terribly kind of you to get us these things. You don’t know what they mean to us. Tell me, what’s your name?”

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“Joe Harman,”he said.“Sergeant Harman—Ringer Harman, some of them call me.”He hesitated.“Sorry I called you Mrs Boong today,”he said awkwardly.“It was a silly kind of joke.”

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She said,“My name’s Jean Paget.”

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“That sounds like a Scotch name.”

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“It is,”she said.“I’m not Scotch myself, but my mother came from Perth.”

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“My mother’s family was Scotch,”he said.“They came from Inverness.”

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She put out her hand.“Goodnight, Sergeant,”she said.“It’s been lovely talking to another white person.”

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He took her hand; there was great comfort for her in his masculine handshake.“Look, Mrs Paget,”he said.“I’ll try if I can get the Nips to let your party ride down on the truck with us. If the little bastards won’t wear it, then we’ll have to give it away. In that case I’ll see you on the road again before you get to Kuantan, and I’ll make darn sure there’s something crook with the truck. What else do you want?”

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“Soap,”she said.“Could you possibly get us soap?”

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“Should be able to,”he said.

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“We’ve got no soap at all,”she observed.“I’ve got a little gold locket that one of the women had who died, a thing with a bit of hair in it. I was going to see if I could sell that here, and get some soap.”

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“Keep it,”he said.“I’ll see you get soap.”

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“We want that more than anything, now that you’ve got these medicines for us,”she said.

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“You’ll have it.”He hesitated, and then said,“Sorry I talked so much, boring you with the outback and all that. There’s times when you get down a bit—can’t make yourself believe you’ll ever see it again.”

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“I wasn’t bored,”she said softly.“Goodnight, Sergeant.”

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“Goodnight.”

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In the morning Jean showed the women what she had got.

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“I heard you talking to him ever so long,”Mrs Price said.“Nice young man, I’d say.”

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“He’s a very homesick young man,”Jean said.“He loves talking about the cattle station he comes from.”

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“Homesick!”Mrs Price said.“Aren’t we all?”

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The Australians had a smart argument with their guards that morning, who refused point-blank to let the women ride down on the trucks. There was some reason in this from their point of view, because the weight of seventeen women and children added to two grossly overloaded trucks might well be the last straw that would bring final breakdown, in which case the guards themselves would have been lucky to escape with a flogging at the hands of their officer. Harman and Leggatt had to put the back axle together again; they were finished and ready for the road about the middle of the morning.

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Joe Harman said,“Keep that little bastard busy for a minute while I loose off the union.”He indicated the Jap guard. Presently they started, Harman in the lead, dribbling a little petrol from a loosened pipe joint, unnoticed by the guard. It was just as well to have an alibi when they ran out of fuel, having parted with six gallons to the Chinaman.

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From Maran to Kuantan is fifty-five miles. The women rested that day at Maran, and next day began the march down the tarmac road. They reached a village called Buan that night. Jean had looked for Joe Harman’s truck all day, expecting to see it returning; she was not to know that it had been stranded overnight at Pohoi, short of petrol, and was a day late in the return journey. They stayed next day at Buan in an atap shed; the women took turns with Jean watching for the truck. Their health already was somewhat improved. After the railway track and the jungle paths the tarmac road was easy walking, and the medicines were already having an effect. The country, too, was growing higher and healthier, and the more imaginative of them were already saying they could smell the sea. And finally their contact with the two Australians had had a marked effect on their morale.

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They did not see Joe Harman’s truck as it passed through. Instead, a Malay girl came to them in the evening with a brown paper parcel of six cakes of Lifebuoy soap; it was addressed to Mrs Paget. Written on the parcel was a note which read,

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Dear Lady,

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I send some soap which is all that we can find just at present but I will get more later on. I am sorry not to see you but the Nip won’t let us stop so I have given this to the Chinaman at Maran and he says he will get it to you. Look out for us on the way back and I will try and stop then.

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Joe Harman

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The women were delighted.“Lifebuoy,”said Mrs Warner, sniffing it ecstatically.“You can just smell the carbolic in it! My dear, wherever do you think they got it?”

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“I’d have two guesses,”Jean replied.“Either they stole it, or they stole something to buy it with.”In fact, the latter was correct. At Pohoi their Japanese guard had taken off his boots to wash his feet at the village well; he washed his feet for about thirty seconds and turned round, but the boots had vanished; it could not have been either of the Australians because they both appeared immediately from the other direction. The mystery was never cleared up. Ben Leggatt, however, was most helpful and stole a pair from a sleeping Japanese that evening and gave them to their guard, who was so relieved that he gave Ben a dollar.

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The next day the women marched to Berkapor. They were out into much better country now, a pleasant, relatively healthy part where the road wound round hillsides and was mostly shaded by the overhanging trees. That day for the first time they got coconuts. Mrs Price had an old worn-out pair of slippers that had belonged to Mrs Horsefall; she had carried them for weeks and had never really used them; they traded these at Berkapor as soon as they got in for milk coconuts, one for each member of the party, thinking that the vitamins contained in the fluid would be good for them. At Berkapor they were accommodated in a large atap copra shed beside the road, and just before dusk the two familiar trucks drew up in the village, driven by Ben Leggatt and Joe Harman. As before, they were headed for the coast and loaded high with railway lines and sleepers.

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Jean and several of the others walked across the road to meet them, with the Japanese sergeant; the Japanese guards fell into conversation together. Joe Harman turned to Jean.“We couldn’t get loaded at Jerantut in time to make it down to Kuantan tonight,”he said.“Ben’s got a pig.”

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“A pig?”They crowded round Ben’s truck. The corpse was lying upon the top of the load, a black, long-nosed Oriental pig, somewhat mauled and already covered in flies. Somewhere near the Tekam River Ben, whose truck was in the lead, had found this pig upon the road and had chased it with the truck for a quarter of a mile. The Japanese guard beside him had fired six shots at it from his rifle and had missed it every time till with the seventh he had wounded it and so enabled Ben to run over it with one of the front wheels. They had stopped and Harman coming close behind them had stopped too, and the two Aussies and the Japanese guard had heaved the pig on to the load and got moving again before the infuriated Chinese storekeeper had caught up with them to claim his property. Harman said quietly to Jean,“We’ll have to let the bloody Nips eat all they can and carry away a bit. Leave it to me; I’ll see there’s some for you.”

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That night the women got about thirty-five pounds of boiled pig meat, conveyed to them surreptitiously in several instalments. They made a fire of coconut shells behind the copra store and made a stew with their rice ration, and ate all of this that seemed prudent to them; at that there was enough meat left for the three meals that they would have before they took the road again. They sat about in the shed or at the roadside after they had finished, replete with the first really nourishing meal that they had had for months, and presently the Australians came across to talk to them.

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Joe Harman came to Jean.“Sorry I couldn’t send over more of that pig,”he said in his slow Queensland drawl.“I had to let the bloody Nips have most of it.”

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She said,“It’s been splendid, Joe. We’ve been eating and eating, and there’s still lots left for tomorrow. I don’t know when we last had such a meal.”

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“I’d say that’s what you need,”he observed.“There’s not a lot of flesh on any of you, if I may say so.”

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He squatted down upon the ground beside the women, sitting on one heel in his peculiar way.

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“I know we’re pretty thin,”Jean said.“But we’re a darned sight better than we were. That Chinese stuff you got us as the substitute for Glauber’s salt—that’s doing the trick all right. It’s stopping it.”

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“Fine,”he said.“Maybe we could get some more of that in Kuantan.”

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“The pig was a god-send,”she said.“That, and the fruit—we got some green coconuts today. We’ve been very lucky so far that we’ve had no beriberi, or that sort of thing.”

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“It’s because we’ve had fresh rice,”said Mrs Frith unexpectedly.“Being in the country parts we’ve had fresh rice all through. It’s old rice that gives you beriberi.”

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The Australian sat thoughtful, chewing a piece of stick.“Funny sort of a life for you ladies,”he said at last.“Living in a place like this, and eating like the boongs. These Nips’ll have something coming to them, when it’s all added up.”

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He turned to Jean.“What were you all doing in Malaya?”he asked.

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“Most of us were married,”she said.“Our husbands had jobs here.”

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Mrs Frith said,“My hubby’s District Engineer on the railway. We had ever such a nice bungalow at Kajang.”

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Harman said,“All the husbands got interned separately, I suppose?”

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“That’s right,”said Mrs Price.“My Arthur’s in Singapore. I heard about him when we was in Port Dickson. I think they’re all in Singapore.”

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“All comfortable in a camp while you go walking round the country,”he said.

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“That’s right,”said Mrs Frith.“Still, it’s nice to know that they’re all right, when all’s said and done.”

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“It seems to me,”said Harman,“the way they’re kicking you around, they just don’t know what they can do with you. It might not be too difficult for you to just stay in one place, as it might be this, and live till the war’s over.”

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Mrs Frith said,“That’s what I’ve been thinking.”

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Jean said,“I know. I’ve thought of this ever since Mrs Frith suggested it. The trouble is, the Japs feed us—or they make the village feed us. The village never gets paid. We’d have to earn our keep somehow, and I don’t see how we could do it.”

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Harman said,“It was just an idea.”

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He said presently,“I believe I know where I could get a chicken or two. If I can I’ll drop them off for you when we come up-country, day after tomorrow.”

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Jean said,“We haven’t paid you for the soap yet.”

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“Forget about it,”he said slowly.“I didn’t pay cash for it myself. I swapped it for a pair of Nip rubber boots.”With slow, dry humour he told them about the boots.“You got the soap, the Nip got another pair of boots, and Ben got a dollar,”he said.“Everybody’s happy and satisfied.”

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Jean said,“Is that how you’re going to get the chicken?”

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“I’ll get a chicken for you, one way or another,”he said.“You ladies need feeding up.”

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She said,“Don’t take any risks.”

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“You attend to your own business, Mrs Boong,”he said,“and take what you get. That’s what you have to do when you’re a prisoner, just take what you can get.”

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She smiled, and said,“All right.”The fact that he had called her Mrs Boong pleased her; it was a little tenuous bond between herself and this strange man that he should pull her leg about her sunburn, her native dress, and the baby that she carried on her hip like a Malay woman. The word boong put Australia into her mind, and the aboriginal stockmen, and she asked a question that had occurred to her, partly from curiosity and partly because she knew it pleased him to talk about his own country.“Tell me,”she said,“is it very hot in Australia, the part you come from? Hotter than this?”

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“It’s hot,”he said.“Oh my word, it can be hot when it tries. At Wollara it can go to a hundred and eighteen—that’s a hot day, that is. But it’s not like this heat here. It’s a kind of a dry heat, so you don’t sweat like you do here.”He thought for a minute.“I got thrown once,”he said,“breaking in a brumby to the saddle. I broke my thigh, and after it was set in the hospital they used to point a sort of lamp at it, a sunray lamp they called it, to tone up the muscles or something. Do you have those things in England?”

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She nodded.“It’s like that, is it?”

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“That’s right,”he said.“It’s a kind of warm, dry heat, the sort that does you good and makes you thirsty for cold beer.”

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“What does the country look like?”she inquired. It pleased the man to talk about his own place and she wanted to please him; he had been so very kind to them.

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“It’s red,”he said.“Red around Alice and where I come from, red earth and then the mountains are all red. The Macdonnells and the Levis and the Kernots, great red ranges of bare hills against the blue sky. Evenings they go purple and all sorts of colours. After the wet there’s green all over them. In the dry, parts of them go silvery white with the spinifex.”He paused.“I suppose everybody likes his own place,”he said quietly.“The country round about the Springs is my place. People come up on the ’Ghan from Adelaide and places in the south, and they say Alice is a lousy town. I only went to Adelaide once, and I thought that was lousy. The country round about the Springs is beautiful to me.”

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He mused.“Artists come up from the south and try and paint it in pictures,”he said.“I only met one that ever got it right, and he was an Abo, an Abo called Albert out at Hermannsburg. Somebody gave him a brush and some paints one time, and he started in and got it better than any of them, oh my word, he did. But he’s an Abo, and he’s painting his own place. I suppose that makes a difference.”

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He turned to Jean.“What’s your place?”he asked.“Where do you come from?”

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She said,“Southampton.”

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“Where the liners go?”

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“That’s it,”she said.

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“What’s it like there?”he asked.

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She shifted the baby on her hip, and moved her feet in the sarong.“It’s quiet, and cool, and happy,”she said thoughtfully.“It’s not particularly beautiful, although there’s lovely country round about—the New Forest, and the Isle of Wight. It’s my place, like the Springs is yours, and I shall go back there if I live through this time, because I love it so.”She paused for a moment.“There was an ice rink there,”she said.“I used to dance upon the ice, when I was a girl at school. One day I’ll get back there and dance again.”

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“I’ve never seen an ice rink,”said the man from Alice.“I’ve seen pictures of them, and on the movies.”

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She said,“It was such fun...”

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Presently he got up to go; she walked across the road with him towards the trucks, the baby on her hip, as always.“I shan’t be able to see you tomorrow,”he said.“We start at dawn. But I’ll be coming back up the road the day after.”

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“We shall be walking to Pohoi that day, I think,”she said.

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“I’ll see if I can get you those chickens,”he said.

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She turned and faced him, standing beside her in the moonlit road, in all the noises of the tropic night.“Look, Joe,”she said.“We don’t want meat if it’s going to mean trouble. It was grand of you to get that soap for us, but you did take a fearful risk, pinching that chap’s boots.”

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“That’s nothing,”he said slowly.“You can run rings round these Nips when you learn how.”

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“You’ve done a lot for us,”she said.“This pig, and the medicines, and the soap. It’s made a world of difference to us in these last few days. I know you’ve taken risks to do these things. Do, please, be careful.”

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“Don’t worry about me,”he said.“I’ll try and get the chickens, but if I find things getting hot I’ll give it away. I won’t go sticking out my neck.”

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“You’ll promise that?”she asked.

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“Don’t worry about me,”he said.“You’ve got enough troubles on your own plate, my word. But we’ll come out all right, so long as we just keep alive, that’s all we got to do. Just keep alive another two years, till the war’s over.”

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“You think that it will be as long as that?”she asked.

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“Ben knows a lot more than I do about things like that,”he said.“He thinks about two years.”He grinned down at her.“You’d better have those chickens.”

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“I’ll leave that with you,”she said.“I’d never forgive myself if you got caught in anything, and bought it.”

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“I won’t,”he said. He put out his hand as if to take her own, and then dropped it again.“Goodnight, Mrs Boong,”he said.

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She laughed.“I’ll crack you with a coconut if you say Mrs Boong again. Goodnight, Joe.”

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“Goodnight.”

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They did not see him next morning, though they heard the trucks go off. They rested that day at Berkapor, as was their custom, and the next day they marched on to Pohoi. The two trucks driven by Harman and Leggatt passed them on the road about midday going up empty to Jerantut; each driver waved to the women as they passed, and they waved back. The Japanese guards seated beside the drivers scowled a little. No chickens dropped from the trucks and the trucks did not stop; in one way Jean was rather relieved. She knew something of the temper of these men by now, and she knew very well that they would stop at nothing, would be deterred by no risk, to get what they considered to be helpful for the women. No chickens meant no trouble, and she marched on for the rest of the day with an easy mind.

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That evening, in the house that they had been put into at Pohoi, a little Malay boy came to Jean with a green canvas sack; he said that he had been sent by a Chinaman in Gambang. In the sack were five black cockerels, alive, with their feet tied. Poultry is usually transported in the East alive.

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Their arrival put Jean in a difficulty, and she consulted with Mrs Frith. It was impossible for them to kill, pluck and cook five cockerels without drawing the attention of their guards to what was going on, and the first thing that the guards would ask was, where had the cockerels come from? If Jean had known the answer to that one herself it would have been easier to frame a lie. It would be possible, they thought, to say that they had bought them with money given to them by the Australians, but that was difficult if the sergeant wanted to know where they had bought them in Pohoi. It was unfortunate that Pohoi was a somewhat unfriendly village; it had been genuinely difficult for the village to evacuate a house for the women, and it was not to be expected that they would get much cooperation from the villagers in any deceit. Finally they decided to say that they had bought them with money given to them by the Australians, and that they had arranged at Berkapor for the poultry to be sent to them at Pohoi from a village called Limau, two or three miles off the road. It was a thin tale and one that would not stand up to a great deal of investigation, but they saw no reason why any investigation should take place.

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They decided regretfully that they would have to part with one of the five cockerels to their guards; the gift of a chicken would make the sergeant sweet and involve him in the affair, rendering any serious investigation unlikely. Accordingly Jean took the sack and went to find the sergeant.

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She bowed to him, to put him in a good temper.“Gunso,”she said,“good mishi tonight. We buy chickens.”She opened the sack and showed him the fowls lying in the bottom. Then she reached down and pulled out one.“For you.”She smiled at him with all the innocence that she could muster.

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It was a great surprise to him. He had not known that they had so much money; they had never been able to buy anything but coconuts or bananas before, since he had been with them.“You buy?”he asked.

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She nodded.“From Limau. Very good mishi for us all tonight.”

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“Where get money?”he inquired. Suspicion had not dawned, for they had never deceived him before; he was just curious.

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For one fleeting moment Jean toyed with the idea of saying they had sold some jewellery, with a quick, intuitive feeling that it would be better not to mention the Australians. But she put the idea away; she must stick to the story that they had prepared and considered from all angles.“Man prisoner give us money for chicken,”she said.“They say we too thin. Now we have good mishi tonight, Japanese and prisoner also.”

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He put up two fingers.“Two.”

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She went up in a sheet of flame.“One, not two, gunso,”she said.“This is a present for you, because you have been kind and carried children, and allowed us to walk slowly. Five only, five.”She showed him the sack, and he counted them carefully. It was only then that she took note of the fact that the birds were rather unusually large for the East, and jet black all over.“One for you, four for us.”

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He let the sack fall, and nodded; then he smiled at her, tucked the cockerel under his arm, and walked off with it towards the kitchen where his meal was in preparation.

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That day there was a considerable row in progress at Kuantan. The local commanding officer was a Captain Sugamo, who was executed by the Allied War Crimes Tribunal in the year 1946 after trial for atrocities committed at Camp 302 on the Burma-Siam railway in the years 1943 and 1944: his duty in Kuantan at that time was to see to the evacuation of the railway material from the eastern railway in Malaya and to its shipment to Siam. He lived in the house formerly occupied by the District Commissioner of Kuantan, and the District Commissioner had kept a fine little flock of about twenty black Leghorn fowls, specially imported from England in 1939. When Captain Sugamo woke up that morning, five of his twenty black Leghorns were missing, with a green sack that had once held the mail for the District Commissioner, and was now used to store grain for the fowls.

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Captain Sugamo was a very angry man. He called the Military Police and set them to work; their suspicion fell at once upon the Australian truck drivers, who had a record for petty larceny in that district. Moreover, they had considerable opportunities, because the nature of their work allowed them a great deal of freedom; trucks had to be serviced and refuelled, often in the hours of darkness when it was difficult to ascertain exactly where each man might be. Their camp was searched that day for any sign of telltale feathers, or the sack, but nothing was discovered but a cache of tinned foods and cigarettes stolen from the quartermaster’s store.

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Captain Sugamo was not satisfied and he became more angry than ever. A question of face was now involved, because this theft from the commanding officer was a clear insult to his position, and so to the Imperial Japanese Army. He ordered a search of the entire town of Kuantan: on the following day every house was entered by troops working under the directions of the military Police to look for signs of the black feathers or the green sack. It yielded no result.

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Brooding over the insults levelled at his uniform, the captain ordered the barracks of the company of soldiers under his command to be searched. There was no result from that.

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There remained one further avenue. Three of the trucks, driven by Australians, were up-country on the road to or from Jerantut. Next day Sugamo dispatched a light truck up the road manned by four men of his military police, to search these trucks and to interrogate the drivers and the guards, and anybody else who might have knowledge of the matter. Between Pohoi and Blat they came upon a crowd of women and children walking down the road loaded with bundles; ahead of them marched a Japanese sergeant with his rifle slung over one shoulder and a green sack over the other. The truck stopped with a squeal of brakes.

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For the next two hours Jean stuck to her story, that the Australian had given her money and she had bought the fowls from Limau. They put her through a sort of third degree there on the road, with an insistent reiteration of questions: when they felt that her attention was wandering they slapped her face, kicked her shins, or stamped on her bare feet with army boots. She stuck to it with desperate resolution, knowing that it was a rotten story, knowing that they disbelieved her, not knowing what else she could say. At the end of that time a convoy of three trucks came down the road; the driver of the second one, Joe Harman, was recognized by the sergeant immediately, and brought before Jean at the point of the bayonet. The sergeant of the Military Police said,“Is this man?”

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Jean said desperately,“I’ve been telling them about the four dollars you gave me to buy the chickens with, Joe, but they won’t believe me.”

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The military policeman said,“You steal chickens from the shoko. Here is bag.”

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The ringer looked at the girl’s bleeding face and at her bleeding feet.“Leave her alone, you bloody mucking bastards,”he said angrily in his slow Queensland drawl.“I stole those mucking chickens, and I gave them to her. So what?”

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Darkness was closing down in my London sitting-room, the early darkness of a stormy afternoon. The rain still beat upon the window. The girl sat staring into the fire, immersed in her sad memories.“They crucified him,”she said quietly.“They took us all down to Kuantan, and they nailed his hands to a tree, and beat him to death. They kept us there, and made us look on while they did it.”

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

allocate

['æləkeɪt]

vt.分派;分配;分配额

Singapore

[ˌsiŋgə'pɔ:]

n.新加坡

camped

[kæmp]

露宿的

Jean

[dʒiːn]

n.斜纹布(复数)jeans:牛仔裤.

Holland

['hɔlənd]

n.荷兰

frock

[frɒk]

n.罩袍;僧衣;女上装

rag

[ræɡ]

n.破布;碎布;破衣服;(低劣的)报纸

jeweler

['dʒuːələ]

n.珠宝商;宝石匠

diameter

[daɪ'æmɪtə(r)]

n.直径

surplus

['sɜːpləs]

n.过剩

pleat

[pliːt]

n.褶;褶状物

undo

[ʌn'duː]

v.解开;松开;取消

garment

['ɡɑːmənt]

n.衣服

tropic

['trɒpɪk]

n.回归线;热带

tatter

['tætə]

v.使破烂;变得破烂

cooler

['kuːlə(r)]

n.冷却器

disapprove

[ˌdɪsə'pruːv]

v.不赞成

descent

[dɪ'sent]

n.下降;下坡;家世;血统;侵袭;衰落;继承

haven

['heɪvn]

n.港口;避难所

nuisance

['njuːsns]

n.讨厌的人;讨厌的东西;伤害

Imperial

[ɪm'pɪəriəl]

adj.帝国的;皇帝的

thermometer

[θə'mɒmɪtə(r)]

n.温度计

quinine

[kwɪ'niːn]

n.奎宁

scurry

['skʌri]

v.小步疾走;急赶

Daddy

['dædi]

n.爸爸

weep

[wiːp]

v.流泪;哭泣;悲叹;渗出

Robin

['rɒbɪn]

罗宾(人名)

dysentery

['dɪsəntri]

n.痢疾

continual

[kən'tɪnjuəl]

adj.不断的;频繁的;连续的

railway

['reɪlweɪ]

n.【C】铁路

Ellen

[ˈelən]

n.埃伦(女子名)

unmarried

[ˌʌn'mærid]

adj.未婚的;独身的

abduct

[æb'dʌkt]

vt.诱拐;绑走

starve

[stɑːv]

vi.挨饿;受饿;极度匮乏

plod

[plɒd]

v.沉重地走;辛勤工作;孜孜从事

despair

[dɪ'speə(r)]

n.绝望;失望

recurrent

[rɪ'kʌrənt]

adj.再发生的

exhaustion

[ɪɡ'zɔːstʃən]

n.疲惫;筋疲力尽;竭尽

marches

[mɑːtʃ]

1. n. (尤指英格兰与苏格兰或威尔士的)边界地区, 2.动词march的第三人称单数形式

tease

[tiːz]

n.揶揄者;戏弄

Frith

[frɪθ]

n.狭窄的海岔;河口

Nip

[nɪp]

vt. 夹；钳；掐；捏;

supper

['sʌpə(r)]

n.晚饭

stew

[stjuː]

n.炖汤;焖;烦恼

wearily

['wɪərəli]

adv.疲倦地;厌烦地

junction

['dʒʌŋkʃn]

n.连接;会合处;交叉点

rash

[ræʃ]

n.疹子;大量

measles

['miːzlz]

n.麻疹

segregate

['seɡrɪɡeɪt]

v.分离;隔离;分凝

muster

['mʌstə(r)]

v.集合;鼓起

Harry

['hæri]

vt.不断骚扰;打扰;侵扰;侵掠

Susan

['suːzn]

n.苏珊(女子名)

amass

[ə'mæs]

v.积聚;收集

mourning

['mɔːnɪŋ]

n.悲痛;孝服;服丧期

afterthought

['ɑːftəθɔːt]

n.事后的想法;后来添加的东西

felted

['feltɪd]

v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结)

litter

['lɪtə(r)]

n. 【U】杂乱物；废纸;

bamboo

[ˌbæm'buː]

n.竹子

humane

[hjuː'meɪn]

adj.仁慈的;人道的

tolerant

['tɒlərənt]

adj.宽容的;容忍的

stretcher

['stretʃə(r)]

n.担架;伸张器;横档

interpreter

[ɪn'tɜːprɪtə(r)]

n.口译员;演绎的人;【计算机】解释程序

lease

[liːs]

n.租约

predicament

[prɪ'dɪkəmənt]

n.困境

brandy

['brændi]

n.白兰地酒

Bill

[bɪl]

①帐单；清单;

midday

[ˌmɪd'deɪ]

n.正午;中午

unhealthy

[ʌn'helθi]

adj.不健康的;有害健康的;病态的或不正常的

tributary

['trɪbjətri]

adj.纳贡的;从属的;辅助的;支流的

swamp

[swɒmp]

n.沼泽;湿地;困境

mangrove

['mæŋɡrəʊv]

n.红树

stretchable

[stretʃəbl]

可伸展的;可延伸的

crocodile

['krɒkədaɪl]

n.鳄鱼

infest

[ɪn'fest]

v.侵扰;猖獗;寄生于

breathless

['breθləs]

adj.喘不过气来的

swampy

['swɒmpɪ]

adj.沼泽似的;沼泽地的

nasty

['nɑːsti]

adj.下流的;严重的;令人不快的;难懂的;危害的

infusion

[ɪn'fjuːʒn]

n.注入;灌输;激励;泡制

bark

[bɑːk]

v.(狗)吠;咆哮

coconut

['kəʊkənʌt]

n.椰子

grind

[ɡraɪnd]

v.磨;压迫;碾碎;磨得吱吱响;逐渐停顿

past

[pɑːst]

a. 过去的;

incessant

[ɪn'sesnt]

adj.不断的;无尽的

earlier

['ɜːlɪə]

adj.早的;初期的

revel

['revl]

vi.狂欢作乐;陶醉

peninsula

[pə'nɪnsjələ]

n.半岛

sleeper

['sliːpə(r)]

n.睡眠者;枕木;卧铺;爆冷门;耳环

jack

[dʒæk]

n.杰克(男子名)

axle

['æksl]

n.轮轴;车轴

muscular

['mʌskjələ(r)]

adj.肌肉的;肌肉发达的

spanner

['spænə(r)]

n.扳手

sarong

[sə'rɒŋ]

n.莎笼(马来人及印尼人所穿的围裙)

muck

[mʌk]

n.垃圾;粪肥;污物;淤泥

deliberate

[dɪ'lɪbərət]

adj.深思熟虑的;故意的;从容不迫的

plait

[plæt]

n.辫子;皱褶

crook

[krʊk]

n.钩;曲柄杖;弯曲;骗子

Tucker

['tʌkə(r)]

n.打横褶的人;打褶装置;领布

cynical

['sɪnɪkl]

adj.愤世嫉俗的;悲观的;恶意的

snort

[snɔːt]

vi. 喷鼻息；鼓鼻;

headman

['hedmæn]

n.队长;首领;酋长

refusal

[rɪ'fjuːzl]

n.拒绝;回绝

lesser

['lesə(r)]

adj.较少的;较小的;次要的

accommodation

[əˌkɒmə'deɪʃn]

n.膳宿

chore

[tʃɔː(r)]

n.讨厌的工作;琐事;家务

novelty

['nɒvlti]

n.【C】新奇;小装饰

bastard

['bɑːstəd]

adj.私生的;错误的;混蛋的

rectify

['rektɪfaɪ]

vt.改正;【化】精馏;【电】整流

shaft

[ʃɑːft]

n.轴;柄;竖井;杆状物;

extract

['ekstrækt]

vt.摘录;提取

decrepit

[dɪ'krepɪt]

adj.破旧的;衰老的

QUININE

[kwɪ'niːn]

n.奎宁

OINTMENT

['ɔɪntmənt]

n.药膏;油膏;软膏

scrap

[skræp]

n.碎片;废品;少许;瘦小的人;争斗;打架

slink

[slɪŋk]

v.偷偷溜走;扭捏招摇地走;早产

inclination

[ˌɪnklɪ'neɪʃn]

n.倾向;意愿;趋势;斜坡;倾斜度

squat

[skwɒt]

v.蹲下;蹲坐;擅自占地

unload

[ˌʌn'ləʊd]

vt. & vi. 卸(货)；卸下;

intrigue

[ɪn'triːɡ]

vt.欺骗;激起 ... 的兴趣

ringer

['rɪŋə(r)]

n.振铃器;敲钟人;铁环;套环;冒名顶替者;酷似的人

Curry

['kʌri]

n.咖哩饭菜;咖哩粉

Darwin

['dɑːwɪn]

n.达尔文(英国科学家))

ignorance

['ɪɡnərəns]

n.无知;愚昧

sprinkler

['sprɪŋklə(r)]

n.洒水装置;洒水车

euro

['jʊərəʊ]

n.欧元(符号€)

startle

['stɑːtl]

v.(使)吃惊;(使)惊愕

Tommy

['tɒmi]

n.英国兵;抵作工资的粮食;【机】螺丝旋杆

Muse

[mjuːz]

v.沉思;冥想

stockman

['stɒkmən]

n.畜牧工;仓库管理员

abo

['æbəʊ]

n. 土著; 土著居民

thoughtful

['θɔːtfl]

adj.深思的;体贴的

spear

[spɪə(r)]

n.矛;标枪

walkabout

['wɔːkəbaʊt]

n.1. (澳洲土著的)短期丛林流浪生活,2. 徒步旅行

rustle

['rʌsl]

v.发出沙沙声;沙沙作响地移动;偷(牛马);急速弄到

drought

[draʊt]

n.干旱

thirst

[θɜːst]

vi.渴望;渴求;口渴

furthest

['fɜːðɪst]

adj.最远的

homestead

['həʊmsted]

n.家园;田产;农场

tucker

['tʌkə(r)]

n.打横褶的人;打褶装置;领布

gallop

['ɡæləp]

n.疾驰;飞奔

posture

['pɒstʃə(r)]

n.姿势;态度;情形

Ringer

['rɪŋə(r)]

n.振铃器;敲钟人;铁环;套环;冒名顶替者;酷似的人

Scotch

[skɒtʃ]

n.伤口;刻痕

Sergeant

['sɑːdʒənt]

n.中士;巡佐;军士;警官;(法庭或议会等地的)警卫官

locket

['lɒkɪt]

n.小金盒

bore

[bɔː(r)]

【1】 v.使厌烦 【2】 vt. 钻(孔)；镗(孔)；开凿

Goodnight

[ˌɡʊd'naɪt]

int.晚安;再见

Homesick

['həʊmsɪk]

adj.想家的，思乡的

breakdown

['breɪkdaʊn]

n.崩溃;故障

flogging

['flɒɡɪŋ]

n.鞭打

dribble

['drɪbl]

vt.使 ... 慢慢流下;运球;细流;流口水

loosen

['luːsn]

vt.松开;放松;放宽

gallon

['ɡælən]

n.加仑(容量单位)

morale

[mə'rɑːl]

n.士气;斗志;道德准则

parcel

['pɑːsl]

n.包裹;部分;一块(土地)

Chinaman

[ˈʧaɪnəmən]

n.中国佬(蔑称)

Warner

['wɔːnə]

n.报警器;警告者

sniff

[snɪf]

vi. 用鼻子吸气;

hillside

['hɪlsaɪd]

n.山腰;山坡

overhang

['əʊvəhæŋ]

v.悬于 ... 之上;悬垂;逼近

slipper

['slɪpə(r)]

n.拖鞋

dusk

[dʌsk]

n.黄昏;薄暮;幽暗

conversation

[ˌkɒnvə'seɪʃn]

n.谈话;会话

corpse

[kɔːps]

n.尸体

Oriental

[ˌɔːri'entl]

adj.东方的;东方人的;(宝石)贵重的;优质的

malling

[mɔːl]

n.逛商场

heaving

['hiːvɪŋ]

n.举起;拿起;扔

surreptitious

[ˌsʌrəp'tɪʃəs]

adj.暗中进行的;鬼鬼祟祟的;保密的

ration

['ræʃn]

n.定额;定量;配给

nourish

['nʌrɪʃ]

v.滋养;给营养;培育;怀有

darn

[dɑːn]

v.织补

beriberi

[ˌberi'beri]

n.脚气(病)

intern

['ɪntɜːn]

n.实习生;拘留犯

saddle

['sædl]

n.鞍;车座;山脊;当权

thirsty

['θɜːsti]

adj.口渴的;渴望的

lousy

['laʊzi]

adj.多虱的;可鄙的;差劲的

Albert

[ˈælbət]

n.艾伯特(男子名)

liner

['laɪnə(r)]

n.班轮

rink

[rɪŋk]

n.溜冰场

Presently

['prezntli]

adv.不久;一会儿;现在;目前

fearful

['fɪəfl]

adj.担心的;可怕的;非常的

scowl

[skaʊl]

n.愁容;皱眉

deter

[dɪ'tɜː(r)]

vt.阻止;威慑;威吓

unfriendly

[ʌn'frendli]

adj.不友好的;不利的

villager

['vɪlɪdʒə(r)]

n.村民

regretful

[rɪ'ɡretfl]

adj.惋惜的;遗憾的;后悔的

fowl

[faʊl]

n.禽;禽肉

innocence

['ɪnəsns]

n.无罪;清白;无知;天真无邪

tuck

[tʌk]

v.打摺;卷起;收拢;藏起;大吃

Tribunal

[traɪ'bjuːnl]

n.法庭;法院;法官席;裁决

atrocity

[ə'trɒsəti]

n.暴行;残暴

evacuation

[ɪˌvækju'eɪʃn]

n.撤离;疏散

shipment

['ʃɪpmənt]

n.装运

refuel

[ˌriː'fjuːəl]

v.补给燃料

tin

[tɪn]

n.锡;罐头;听头

theft

[θeft]

n.偷窃

brood

[bruːd]

n.一窝;一伙;一家孩子;一组事物

barracking

['bærək]

n.兵舍;军营

dispatch

[dɪ'spætʃ]

v.派遣;发送;迅速完成;处死

bundle

['bʌndl]

n.捆;束

shin

[ʃɪn]

n. 胫骨

stamp

[stæmp]

【1】 n.邮票; 图章【2】v.盖邮戳,盖印章

disbelieve

[ˌdɪsbɪ'liːv]

v.不信;怀疑

bayonet

['beɪənət]

n.刺刀

bleed

[bliːd]

v.流血;渗色;榨取;放掉(水或气体);给...抽血

angrily

['æŋɡrəli]

adv.气愤地

immerse

[ɪ'mɜːs]

vt.浸;陷入

stormy

['stɔːmi]

adj.暴风雨的;激烈的;粗暴的

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