it was a rimy morning, and very damp. i had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief. now, i saw the damp lying on the bare hedges and spare grass, like a coarser sort of spiders' webs; hanging itself from twig to twig and blade to blade. on every rail and gate, wet lay clammy; and the marsh-mist was so thick, that the wooden finger on the post directing people to our village - a direction which they never accepted, for they never came there - was invisible to me until i was quite close under it. then, as i looked up at it, while it dripped, it seemed to my oppressed conscience like a phantom devoting me to the hulks.
the mist was heavier yet when i got out upon the marshes, so that instead of my running at everything, everything seemed to run at me. this was very disagreeable to a guilty mind. the gates and dykes and banks came bursting at me through the mist, as if they cried as plainly as could be, `a boy with somebody-else's port pie! stop his!' the cattle came upon me with like suddenness, staring out of their eyes, and steaming out of their nostrils, `holloa, young thief!' one black ox, with a white cravat on - who even had to my awakened conscience something of a clerical air - fixed me so obstinately with his eyes, and moved his blunt head round in such an accusatory manner as i moved round, that i blubbered out to him, `i couldn't help it, sir! it wasn't for myself i took it!' upon which he put down his head, blew a could of smoke out of his nose, and vanished with a kick-up of his hind-legs and a flourish of his tail.
all this time, i was getting on towards the river; but however fast i went, i couldn't warm my feet, to which the damp cold seemed riveted, as the iron was riveted to the leg of the man i was running to meet. i knew my way to the battery, pretty straight, for i had been down there on a sunday with joe, and joe, sitting on an old gun, had told me that when i was 'prentice to him regularly bound, we would have such larks there! however, in the confusion of the mist, i found myself at last too far to the right, and consequently had to try back along the river-side, on the bank of loose stones above the mud and the stakes that staked the tide out. making my way along here with all despatch, i had just crossed a ditch which i knew to be very near the battery, and had just scrambled up the mound beyond the ditch, when i saw the man sitting before me. his back was towards me, and he had his arms folded, and was nodding forward, heavy with sleep.
i thought he would be more glad if i came upon him with his breakfast, in that unexpected manner, so i went forward softly and touched him on the shoulder. he instantly jumped up, and it was not the same man, but another man!
and yet this man was dressed in coarse grey, too, and had a great iron on his leg, and was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was everything that the other man was; except that he had not the same face, and had a flat broad-brimmed low-crowned felt that on. all this, i saw in a moment, for i had only a moment to see it in: he swore an oath at me, made a hit at me - it was a round weak blow that missed me and almost knocked himself down, for it made him stumble - and then he ran the mist, stumbling twice as he went, and i lost him.
`it's the young man!' i thought, feeling my heart shoot as i identified him. i dare say i should have felt a pain in my liver, too, if i had known where it was.
i was soon at the battery, after that, and there was the right man-hugging himself and limping to and fro, as if he had never all night left off hugging and limping - waiting for me. he was awfully cold, to be sure. i half expected to see him drop down before my face and die of deadly cold. his eyes looked so awfully hungry, too, that when i handed him the file and he laid it down on the grass, it occurred to me he would have tried to eat it, if he had not seen my bundle. he did not turn me upside down, this time, to get at what i had, but left me right side upwards while i opened the bundle and emptied my pockets.
`what's in the bottle, boy?' said he.
`brandy,' said i.
he was already handing mincemeat down his throat in the most curious manner - more like a man who was putting it away somewhere in a violent hurry, than a man who was eating it - but he left off to take some of the liquor. he shivered all the while, so violently, that it was quite as much as he could do to keep the neck of the bottle between his teeth, without biting it off.
`i think you have got the ague,' said i.
`i'm much of your opinion, boy,' said he.
`it's bad about here,' i told him. `you've been lying out on the meshes, and they're dreadful aguish. rheumatic too.'
`i'll eat my breakfast afore they're the death of me,' said he. `i'd do that, if i was going to be strung up to that there gallows as there is over there, directly afterwards. i'll beat the shivers so far, i'll bet you.'
he was gobbling mincemeat, meatbone, bread, cheese, and pork pie, all at once: staring distrustfully while he did so at the mist all round us, and often stopping - even stopping his jaws - to listen. some real or fancied sound, some clink upon the river or breathing of beast upon the marsh, now gave him a start, and he said, suddenly:
`you're not a deceiving imp? you brought no one with you?'
`no, sir! no!'
`nor giv' no one the office to follow you?'
`no!'
`well,' said he, `i believe you. you'd be but a fierce young hound indeed, if at your time of life you could help to hunt a wretched warmint, hunted as near death and dunghill as this poor wretched warmint is!'
something clicked in his throat, as if has works in him like a clock, and was going to strike. and he smeared his ragged rough sleeve over his eyes.
pitying his desolation, and watching him as he gradually settled down upon the pie, i made bold to say, `i am glad you enjoy it.'
`did you speak?'
`i said i was glad you enjoyed it.'
`thankee, my boy. i do.'
i had often watched a large dog of ours eating his food; and i now noticed a decided similarity between the dog's way of eating, and the man's. the man took strong sharp sudden bites, just like the dog. he swallowed, or rather snapped up, every mouthful, too soon and too fast; and he looked sideways here and there while he ate, as if he thought there was danger in every direction, of somebody's coming to take the pie away. he was altogether too unsettled in his mind over it, to appreciate it comfortably, i thought, or to have anybody to dine with him, without making a chop with his jaws at the visitor. in all of which particulars he was very like the dog.
`i am afraid you won't leave any of it for him,' said i, timidly; after a silence during which i had hesitated as to the politeness of making the remark. `there's no more to be got where that came from.' it was the certainty of this fact that impelled me to offer the hint.
`leave any for him? who's him?' said my friend, stopping in his crunching of pie-crust.
`the young man. that you spoke of. that was hid with you.'
`oh ah!' he returned, with something like a gruff laugh. `him? yes, yes! he don't want no wittles.'
`i thought he looked as if he did,' said i.
the man stopped eating, and regarded me with the keenest scrutiny and the greatest surprise.
`looked? when?'
`just now.'
`where?'
`yonder,' said i, pointing; `over there, where i found him nodding asleep, and thought it was you.'
he held me by the collar and stared at me so, that i began to think his first idea about cutting my throat had revived.
`dressed like you, you know, only with a hat,' i explained, trembling; `and - and' - i was very anxious to put this delicately - `and with - the same reason for wanting to borrow a file. didn't you hear the cannon last night?'
`then, there was firing!' he said to himself.
`i wonder you shouldn't have been sure of that,' i returned, `for we heard it up at home, and that's further away, and we were shut in besides.'
`why, see now!' said he. `when a man's alone on these flats, with a light head and a light stomach, perishing of cold and want, he hears nothin' all night, but guns firing, and voices calling. hears? he sees the soldiers, with their red coats lighted up by the torches carried afore, closing in round him. hears his number called, hears himself challenged, hears the rattle of the muskets, hears the orders """make ready! present! cover him steady, men!" and is laid hands on - and there's nothin'! why, if i see one pursuing party last night - coming up in order, damn 'em, with their tramp, tramp - i see a hundred. and as to firing! why, i see the mist shake with the cannon, arter it was broad day - but this man;' he had said all the rest, as if he had forgotten my being there; `did you notice anything in him?'
`he had a badly bruised face,' said i, recalling what i hardly knew i knew.
`not here?' exclaimed the man, striking his left cheek mercilessly, with the flat of his hand.
`yes, there!'
`where is he?' he crammed what little food was left, into the breast of his grey jacket. `show me the way he went. i'll pull him down, like a bloodhound. curse this iron on my sore leg! give us hold of the file, boy.'
i indicated in what direction the mist had shrouded the other man, and he looked up at it for an instant. but he was down on the rank wet grass, filing at his iron like a madman, and not minding me or minding his own leg, which has an old chafe upon it and was bloody, but which he handled as roughly as if it had no more feeling in it than the file. i was very much afraid of him again, now that he had worked himself into this fierce hurry, and i was likewise very much afraid of keeping away from home any longer. i told him i must go, but he took no notice, so i thought the best thing i could do was to slip off. the last i saw of him, his head was bent over his knee and he was working hard at his fetter, muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. the last i heard of him, i stopped in the mist to listen, and the file was still going.
这是一个结满白霜的早晨，相当潮湿。一早起来我就曾见到在我小窗的外侧布了一层湿气，仿佛有一个魔鬼，终夜在那儿嚎哭，并且用我的窗子作为手帕，擦拭着他的眼泪。现在我又看到，在一无枝叶的篱笆和稀稀疏疏的草地上也布了一层湿气，就好像用粗丝织成的蜘蛛网，把所有的枝头和所有的草尖连成一片。家家户户的栅栏上、大门上都有一层粘粘糊糊的水汽。沼泽地上空的雾太浓了，如果不是因为走到了近前，我是根本无法看清那个指着我们村庄的木制手指的。其实人们也不会去看这个手指，因为他们从不会来到这里。我仰首观看这正滴着水珠的手指，对我受到压抑的良心来说，它就像一个妖怪，一心一意地把我引向监狱船。
待我抵达沼泽地时，雾气更为浓厚。在迷氵蒙雾气中好像不是我朝着前面的目标走去，而是前面的一切景象都正向着我飞奔过来。对于怀有犯罪感的我来说，这种情形是令人讨厌的。看那一扇扇闸门、一道道水坝和河岸都突然地冲破了氵蒙氵蒙雾气出现在我面前，仿佛都在清清楚楚、直截了当地喊叫着：“有一个孩子偷了人家的猪肉馅饼！捉住他 2”牛儿也忽然在我面前显现出来，睁着它们的大眼睛，鼻孔中喷出团团白气，似乎也在对我说：“喂，你这个小贼！”一头颈项上长着一圈白毛的黑牛用一双圆眼死死地盯住我，好像一名牧师，试图唤起我良心上的自责。然后，它又转动起那只愚钝粗鲁的大头，那个架势肯定是在责备我。我走过去时不禁用带着哽咽的声音对它说：“牛先生，我完全是身不由己！我偷猪肉馅饼不是为了自己！”它听了我的解释才低下了头，从鼻孔中喷射出一圈雾气，抬起后腿踢了一下，又一甩它的尾巴，向别处走去。
我一路向着河边赶过去。不管我奔得多么快，我的脚始终是冰凉的，暖和不起来。潮湿的冷气似乎根深蒂固地留在了我的脚上，就像铁镣死死地铐在那个我正赶去会见的人的腿上一样。我心中有数，只要一直走下去就是炮台，因为有一个星期天我曾经和乔到那里去过。我记得，那一次乔坐在一尊老古炮身上对我说，要是我当了他的徒弟，签好了合同，那我们有多高心（兴）啊！我走着走着，发现厚厚的浓雾使我走错了路，偏向了右边，所以不得不沿河又向回走。河岸上的这条路是用石头堆在泥浆上砌成的，打了一些木桩用来防汛。我火急地顺着河堤向前跑，跳过了一条小沟，知道这里离炮台已很近了。接着，我爬上了沟那边的土丘。一上土丘，我便看到那人坐在我前面。他的背朝向我，两只臂膀交叉在胸前，头微微点动着，睡得非常香甜。
我思忖着，如果我出其不意地把早餐放在他面前，他一定快活得不得了。于是，我轻手轻脚地走到他面前，拍了一下他的肩膀。他立刻跳了起来。我一看，他并不是那个我要见的人，而是另一个人。
这个人穿的也是粗制的灰布国服，腿上也系着一根粗大的脚镣，走路也是一瘸一拐的，语音也是粗声粗气、有点刺耳，身子也是冷得直发抖。除掉一张脸和他头上戴着的一顶低顶宽边毡帽以外，两个人无论从哪里看都是一模一样。我所描述的这一切只是我一刹那之间的印象，因为也就在这时刻，他对我破口大骂，同时向我挥出了一拳。幸好这一拳是弯着膀子打来的，力量不大，而且没有打中。他自己倒差点儿被冲力带倒，接着就踉踉跄跄地逃进了氵蒙氵蒙大雾之中。他跌倒了两次，然后便在前面消失了。
“这就是那个年轻人！”我想。我认出了他，这使我的心好像中了弹一样地疼痛。要是知道我的肝长在什么地方，我肯定也会感到肝病的。
很快我就到达了炮台，而且看到了那个人，一点没有错。他紧紧地抱着自己的身体，一瘸一拐地来回走着，好像整夜都没有睡觉，整夜都紧抱着身体，拐着来拐着去地专心等着我来。他肯定是实在太冷了。我几乎预感到他会在我面前倒下来，在寒气中冻僵而死。从他的眼神中可以看出他饿急了。我把锉子递给他时，他随手便向草地上一丢。我想，如果他没有看到我手中提着的食品包，一定连锉子也会吃下肚的。这回他没有把我倒拎起来，也没有把我身上的东西搜个干净，而是让我端正地站在那里。我打开食品包，又把口袋中装的东西全部交给他。
“孩子，瓶子里装的是什么？”他问道。
“白兰地酒。”我答道。
他正在把碑肉送进嘴巴塞人喉管。他吃东西的姿态是最奇特的，与其说他在吃碎肉，不如说他在狂暴而又匆忙地把它装进什么容器中。这时他听说有白兰地，又丢下碎肉，立刻装进几口酒。他全身一直在战栗着，总算还能把瓶颈咬在牙齿之间，没有把瓶子咬成两半。
“你在打摆子吧。”我说道。
“孩子，多半你的话是对的。”他答道。
“这里环境很差，”我告诉他，“而且你一直躺在沼泽地上，这不仅容易使人打摆子，而且也会使人患风湿症。”
“我可管不了这些。就是打摆子会要我的命，我也要先把早饭吃完再说，”他说道，“就是马上我要被带到那边的绞刑架去，被吊死，我也要先吃早饭。不要担心，我敢保证，我会战胜这打摆子病的。”
他狼吞虎咽地把碎肉、肉骨头上的肉、面包、奶酪、猪肉馅饼同时往肚子里装，一边还疑神疑鬼地注视着我们四周的迷雾，时常停下来，甚至停下他的嘴巴，静听四周的声音。究竟是真实的，还是他幻想中的声音；究竟是河上的咔哒声，还是沼地上野兽的呼吸声。忽然，他大吃一惊，对我问道：
“你是不是一个骗我上当的小鬼？你带没带人来？”
“没有，先生，我什么人也没有带。”
“也没有暗示什么人跟你来吗？”
“没有。”
“好吧，”他说道，“我相信你。如果在你这个年纪就帮着别人来追捕一条可怜的小毛虫，那你无疑就是一条凶狠可恶的小猎大了。像我这样可怜而又受苦受难的小毛虫离死期已经不远，就会变成一堆臭屎了。”
不知什么东西在他喉咙管里咯嗒响了一下，仿佛他的体内有一个类似闹钟的装置，正要敲响报时。他用破烂的粗布衣袖擦了擦他的眼睛。
他如此凄凉落魄，我内心十分同情。注视着他慢慢地又开始吃起猪肉馅饼，我壮着胆子说道：“看到你喜欢吃馅饼，我太高兴了。”
“你在说什么？”
“我说，你喜欢吃这饼我大高兴了。”
“谢谢你，我的孩子。我真喜欢这饼。”
过去我时常观看我们家的一条大狗吃食，现在，我发现狗的吃相和这个人的吃相是多么明显地相似啊！这个人左一口右一口不停地拼命咬着，和狗的吃法没有两样。与其说他在把食物吞进去，不如说他是把食物一把一把地装进去，快得无法形容。他一面吃着，一面斜着眼看看这里，又看看那里，似乎无处不埋伏着危险，说不定哪里会跑出一个人来，把他的肉馅饼一把夺走。看上去他的心绪太不安定了，以至于不可能舒舒服服地把饼嚼出滋味来。我思忖着，要是有人和他同食，他不咬下一块对方的肉才怪呢。从所有的这些情况看，他太像我们家那条狗了。
“恐怕你不会留点什么给他吃了。”我胆怯地说道。说后我迟疑了片刻，考虑这话是不是会惹他生气。“真的，我只能弄到这么多，无法再多弄了。”因为这是大实话，我不得不让他知道。
“留点儿给他吃？他是谁？”我的朋友反而问我，停止了啃嚼肉馅饼的皮。
“就是那个年轻人啊。是你告诉我的，你说他和你躲在一起。”
“噢，噢！”他恍然大悟地答道，似乎还带着粗鲁的笑声。“是他啊！你说得对，对，不过他是不吃东西的。”
“我想，看他的样子他也是要吃东西的。”我说道。
这个人停止了啃嚼，用锐利的目光和惊异的神情打量着我，审视着我。
“看他的样子？你什么时候看到他的样子的？”
“刚才。”
“在什么地方？”
“在那边，”我指着方向说道，“就那里，我看到他在那儿打着瞌睡，还以为是你呢。”
他突然一把抓住我的领子，紧紧地瞪着我。我开始以为他又想要勒死我了，因为这是他最初的打算。
“你知道，他穿的衣服和你的一样，只多了一顶帽子，”我全身发抖地向他解释说，“而且他也，他也，”我不知道该怎么样才能把下面的词句说得体面些，“有一副什么东西系在脚上，也该要个锉子。昨天夜里你听到放炮的声音了吗？”
“那的确是放炮喽？”他对自己说着。
“你怎么会不能肯定是放炮呢？”我答道，“我们家离得很远，而且门又关着，我们都听到了。”
“唉，瞧我！”他说道，“当时我独自一人睡在这沼泽地上，沉闷的头脑，全空的肚皮，身上冷得发抖，缺食缺衣，整夜除了炮声人声外，其他还能听到什么？不仅听见，我还看见了士兵呢。他们手持火炬，火光映照着红色的军服，正向我包抄而来。他们叫着我的号，向我挑战，听到他们毛瑟枪咔哒咔哒的响声，听到他们所下的号令声，‘弟兄们，现在注意：各就各位，举枪，对他瞄准！’接着捉住了——他们也消失了！是啊，昨夜我看到有一批搜捕队，他们整队而来，咔嚓咔嚓地踏着草地，他妈的，哪是一批啊，而是一百批。至于放炮嘛，我看到炮声把雾气都震动得战栗起来，那时天已经很亮了。不过这个人，”他说了半天都忘记了我在这里，现在才记起来，“你注意到他有什么特点吗？”
“我看到他脸上肿了一大块。”我答道。回想当时，很难说我看得很正确。
“是不是这里？”他大声地问我，用手掌狠狠地打在自己的左脸上。
“对，就是这里。”
“现在他在哪里？”说着他把仅剩下的一点儿食物塞进他那件灰色上衣的胸口。“告诉我他去的地方。我要像一条猎犬，一定要追到他。这根脚镣真可恨，脚痛得不好走。孩子，替我把锉子拿过来。”
我把方向指给他看，告诉他另一个人就在那里的大雾包围之中。他举首朝着那里望了一会儿，然后便坐在发着恶臭的潮湿草地上，用锉子锉他的脚镣。他那个劲儿简直像个疯子，对身旁的我和他自己的脚毫不在意。他腿上有个老伤口，现在被弄得血糊糊的，可是他却粗鲁地挂着，仿佛他的腿和锉刀一样是没有感觉的。现在我心中对他又害怕起来。他这么心急冲冲的样子，不由得我不害怕；再说，我出来已够久了，不能再耽搁。我告诉他我要回家，他好像没有听到。我想，我还是溜之大吉吧。我记得我最后一眼看到他的景象是，他冲着膝盖低着头，正拼着老命在锉脚镣，不耐烦地对锉刀和腿骂骂咧咧地说着什么。我站在氵蒙氵蒙雾气中听到他最后的声音是他不停地锉着脚镣的声音。
