Chapter 02

CHAPTER II

  SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and
fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if
the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in
every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom
and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond
the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far
enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
  Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a
long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and
a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board
fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a
burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost
plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant
whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed
fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at
the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from
the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but
now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at
the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there
waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting,
skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:
“Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some.”
Jim shook his head and said:
“Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water
an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine
to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own
business--she 'lowed _she'd_ 'tend to de whitewashin'.”
  “Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks.
Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. _She_ won't ever
know.”
“Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me.
'Deed she would.”
“_She_! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her
thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but
talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a
marvel. I'll give you a white alley!”
Jim began to waver.
“White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw.”
“My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful
'fraid ole missis--”
“And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe.”
Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down
his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing
interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he
was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was
whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with
a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.
But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had
planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys
would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and
they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very
thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and
examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange
of _work_, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour
of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and
gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless
moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great,
magnificent inspiration.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in
sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been
dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his
heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and
giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned
ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As
he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned
far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp
and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them:
“Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!” The headway ran almost out, and he
drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.
“Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!” His arms straightened and stiffened
down his sides.
“Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow!
Chow!” His right hand, mean-time, describing stately circles--for it was
representing a forty-foot wheel.
“Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!”
 The left hand began to describe circles.
“Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on
the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling!
Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! _lively_ now! Come--out with
your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump
with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with
the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!” (trying the
gauge-cocks).
Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared
a moment and then said: “_Hi-Yi! You're_ up a stump, ain't you!”
No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then
he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as
before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the
apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said:
“Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?”
Tom wheeled suddenly and said:
“Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing.”
“Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of
course you'd druther _work_--wouldn't you? Course you would!”
Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:
“What do you call work?”
“Why, ain't _that_ work?”
Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:
“Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom
Sawyer.”
“Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you _like_ it?”
The brush continued to move.
“Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a
chance to whitewash a fence every day?”
That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple.
Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the
effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben
watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:
“Say, Tom, let _me_ whitewash a little.”
Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:
“No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful
particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know--but if it
was the back fence I wouldn't mind and _she_ wouldn't. Yes, she's awful
particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon
there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it
the way it's got to be done.”
“No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let
_you_, if you was me, Tom.”
Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do
it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let
Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence
and anything was to happen to it--”
“Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you
the core of my apple.”
“Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--”
“I'll give you _all_ of it!”
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his
heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the
sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by,
dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more
innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every
little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time
Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for
a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in
for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour
after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a
poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in
wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part
of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool
cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a
glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles,
six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a
dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel,
and a dilapidated old window sash.
He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company--and
the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of
whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.
Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He
had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely,
that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary
to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and
wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have
comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is _obliged_ to do,
and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And
this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or
performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing
Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England
who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a
daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable
money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn
it into work and then they would resign.
The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place
in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to
report.

Chapter 2
周六早晨如約而至。夏天的世界明亮、鮮活、生機(jī)勃勃。每顆心里都有一首歌，如果心兒年輕，那首歌便會(huì)脫口而出。每張面孔都是那么愉快，每個(gè)人走路都像踩著彈簧?；被ㄊ⒎?，香氣四溢。越過村莊抬頭望去，綠意盎然的卡迪夫山遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地佇立著，宛如人間天堂，夢(mèng)幻、寧靜、令人向往。

湯姆出現(xiàn)在人行道上，一手拎著桶白漆，一手拿著把長(zhǎng)柄刷。他打量著那道柵欄，快樂煙消云散，愁苦浮上心頭。這是一道三十碼長(zhǎng)、九英尺高的柵欄。人生似乎變得空虛，活著不過是一種負(fù)擔(dān)。湯姆一聲長(zhǎng)嘆，將刷子沾上油漆，劃過頭一道柵欄板，重復(fù)一次這個(gè)動(dòng)作，再重復(fù)一次；他將這一小條微不足道的白印，和一望無際的未完成部分比了比，便一屁股坐到大樹底下的木頭圍欄上，再也提不起勁兒了。吉姆拎著鐵皮桶，哼著《水牛城的姑娘》，連蹦帶跳地從門里出來了。去鎮(zhèn)上打水在湯姆看來一直是個(gè)討厭的活兒。不過那是從前，現(xiàn)在他可不這么想了。他記得水泵那兒有好多小伙伴呢，有黑人、白人還有混血小孩，男孩女孩都在那里排隊(duì)打水。大家優(yōu)哉游哉，要么交換玩具，要么追跑打鬧、玩耍嬉戲。湯姆還記得盡管水泵只有一百五十碼遠(yuǎn)，吉姆卻總要花一個(gè)多小時(shí)才會(huì)拎著水桶回來—那還是在有人跑去催他的情況下。于是湯姆說：
“嘿，吉姆，要是你替我刷會(huì)兒柵欄，我就替你去打水?！?br />吉姆搖搖頭：
“不行的，湯姆少爺。老太太讓我去打水，還說不可以跟別人玩。她說，她知道湯姆少爺會(huì)叫我刷墻，讓我不要跟你講話，還要我管好自己—她說她要盯著你刷?！?br />
“嗨，別聽她的，吉姆。她說話就這樣。把桶給我吧，我去去就回。她根本不會(huì)知道?！?br />
“哎，我可不敢，湯姆少爺。老太太會(huì)把我的腦袋擰下來的。她真的會(huì)的?！?br />
“她！她從來不打人，只不過拿頂針杵一下腦袋，那有什么可害怕的？她嘴上厲害，可說說又不礙事的—反正只要她沒哭就沒事。吉姆，我給你一顆彈珠吧。白色大理石做的彈珠喲！”
吉姆開始動(dòng)搖。
“白色彈珠喲，吉姆！而且還是一顆母彈。”
“乖乖！這彈珠肯定厲害極啦！不過湯姆少爺，我真的很怕老太太……”
“還有，如果你愿意，我就給你看那只發(fā)炎的腳趾頭?！?br />吉姆到底是個(gè)凡人，實(shí)在抵擋不住這樣的誘惑。他放下鐵皮桶，接過白色彈珠，彎下腰，全神貫注地盯著湯姆的腳趾，等他解開繃帶。下一秒鐘，只見吉姆拎著鐵皮桶，帶著發(fā)痛的屁股沿街飛奔而去，湯姆則干勁十足地在粉刷。波麗姨媽手拎拖鞋，洋洋得意，獲得了戰(zhàn)斗的勝利。

不過湯姆的熱情沒能持續(xù)多久。他開始想今天本來打算玩些什么，結(jié)果弄得自己更加難過。很快那幫不必干活的小孩就能踏上各式各樣令人垂涎三尺的探險(xiǎn)之旅了，他們還會(huì)來嘲笑自己，因?yàn)樗仨毟苫顑骸氲竭@里，湯姆心里簡(jiǎn)直是火燒火燎。他掏出自己的全部財(cái)產(chǎn)一一清點(diǎn)：玩具碎片、彈珠還有一點(diǎn)兒垃圾。也許可以換個(gè)工種，但根本換不來半小時(shí)的絕對(duì)自由。湯姆把這點(diǎn)寒磣的財(cái)產(chǎn)放回口袋，放棄了收買的念頭。就在這個(gè)黑暗而絕望的時(shí)刻，他突然靈機(jī)一動(dòng)！真是一個(gè)絕妙的、偉大的點(diǎn)子！

湯姆拿起刷子，心平氣和地開始干活。很快，本·羅杰斯冒了出來—所有人中，恰恰是他的嘲笑最叫湯姆害怕。本走起路來連蹦帶跳，說明他的心情非常放松，很想找點(diǎn)兒樂子。他一邊吃著蘋果，一邊拖長(zhǎng)了音調(diào)，發(fā)出一陣陣唱歌似的嗚嗚聲，后邊跟著一串低沉的“叮—咚—咚、?！恕恕薄Ｔ瓉硭诎缪菀凰艺羝喆?。本越走越近，他開始減速。只見他來到馬路中間，整個(gè)身子偏向右舷，開始笨重地轉(zhuǎn)向。他故意把這套動(dòng)作做得很吃力，因?yàn)樗７碌氖恰按竺芴K里號(hào)”，需要九英尺深的水才能浮起來。他既是輪船，又是船長(zhǎng)，同時(shí)還扮演蒸汽機(jī)和船鈴，所以他得想象自己正站在自己的甲板上，一面發(fā)令，一面執(zhí)行：

“停船，先生們！叮兒—鈴鈴！”船幾乎就要停下，本緩緩靠近人行道。

“停下明輪！叮兒—鈴鈴！”他把手臂伸直，緊貼住身體兩側(cè)。

“右舷后退！叮兒—鈴鈴！咻嗚！咻—咻嗚—嗚！咻嗚！”說話的同時(shí)，他的右手劃出大大的圓—這代表直徑四十英尺12的大明輪13。

“左舷后退！叮兒—鈴鈴！咻嗚—咻—咻嗚—咻嗚?。　弊笫珠_始畫圓。

“右舷停！叮兒—鈴鈴！左舷停！右舷前進(jìn)！停！外邊的明輪慢慢往后倒！?！忊?！咻嗚—嗚—嗚！拿出船頭繩！動(dòng)作快！現(xiàn)在—拿出船尾繩—你在發(fā)什么愣呀！用繩圈把墩子套牢！就這樣穩(wěn)住，現(xiàn)在—放手！關(guān)閉引擎，先生們！叮兒—鈴鈴！噗呲！噗呲！噗呲！”（模仿汽門泄氣的聲音14。）

湯姆繼續(xù)粉刷，壓根不看這艘蒸汽船。本瞧了他一會(huì)兒，開口說道：

“嘿呀！你又倒霉了，是不是！”

沒有回答。湯姆像個(gè)藝術(shù)家似的打量了一番剛刷上的一筆，然后輕輕地補(bǔ)上一點(diǎn)，接著像剛才那樣打量起來。本站到湯姆身邊。雖然被那只蘋果弄得嘴里都是口水，湯姆還是專注于手頭的工作。本說：

“嘿，哥們，你被逼著干活呢，是不是？”

湯姆忽然扭過頭：

“噢，是你啊，本！我都沒注意?！?br />
“跟你說—我呀，要去游泳啦。你也很想去吧？當(dāng)然啦，你得干活，對(duì)不對(duì)？我看是必須得干活！”

湯姆深深地看了他一眼：

“你管這個(gè)叫干活兒?jiǎn)幔俊?br />
“怎么啦，這不是干活是什么？”

湯姆繼續(xù)粉刷，漫不經(jīng)心地答道：

“怎么說呢，也許是，也許不是。我只知道，湯姆·索亞很適合干這個(gè)活兒?！?br />
“得了吧，難道你喜歡干這個(gè)嗎？”

刷子一刻沒停。

“喜歡？有什么道理不喜歡呢？難道刷柵欄的機(jī)會(huì)每天都有嗎？”

這倒是一個(gè)全新的看法。本已經(jīng)不啃蘋果了。湯姆優(yōu)雅地來回?fù)]舞著刷子，不時(shí)后退兩步看看效果，這里那里地補(bǔ)上幾筆，再進(jìn)行一番審視。本瞧著他的一舉一動(dòng)，興趣越來越濃，他已經(jīng)完全被湯姆吸引了。很快他就說：

“我說，湯姆，讓我刷會(huì)兒吧。”

湯姆稍作考慮，幾乎要同意了，但是又改了主意：

“不行，不行，真不能讓你刷，本。你瞧，波麗姨媽非常看重這面柵欄，這面朝著街呢，你懂嗎？要是背面我就讓你刷了，姨媽也不會(huì)說什么。但是，這面她太看重了，刷起來必須非常仔細(xì)。我看一千個(gè)孩子里，不，沒準(zhǔn)兩千個(gè)孩子里才有一個(gè)能把這活兒干好?！?br />
“不是吧。是這樣嗎？好啦，讓我試試嘛。就一小會(huì)兒，湯姆，如果我是你，我一定就同意了?！?br />
“本，講心里話，我特別愿意，但是波麗姨媽—哎，吉姆想干，她都沒讓：希德要做，她也沒同意?，F(xiàn)在你能明白我有多為難了嗎？要是讓你接手這道柵欄，萬一出點(diǎn)什么岔子—”

“我靠，我會(huì)很小心的啦。快讓我試試。這樣吧，我把蘋果核給你。”
“嗯，那好吧—不，本，還是不行。我害怕—”
“整個(gè)蘋果都給你！”

湯姆把刷子遞了過去，臉上顯得不情愿，其實(shí)心里樂翻天。剛才那艘“大密蘇里號(hào)”蒸汽輪船這會(huì)兒在烈日下開始揮汗如雨地工作，咱們退居二線的藝術(shù)家卻坐在一旁樹蔭底下的大木桶上，晃著腿，嚼著蘋果，計(jì)劃再多找?guī)讉€(gè)無辜的孩子下手。傻孩子還真不少，時(shí)不時(shí)就有男孩經(jīng)過。他們本想來諷刺湯姆，結(jié)果卻被留下刷漆。本刷到精疲力盡時(shí)，湯姆已經(jīng)將下一次機(jī)會(huì)以一只風(fēng)箏的價(jià)格賣給了比利·費(fèi)雪，那風(fēng)箏可保養(yǎng)得不錯(cuò)哪。等這位玩兒膩了，強(qiáng)尼·米勒又接著入手，代價(jià)是一只死老鼠，附贈(zèng)一根甩著玩的繩子—如此如此，這般這般，好幾個(gè)小時(shí)過去了。到中午時(shí)分，早上還是個(gè)可憐的窮光蛋的湯姆，這會(huì)兒卻成了貨真價(jià)實(shí)的大富翁。除了之前說過的那幾樣，他還得到了十二顆彈珠、一只破口弦琴、一片透光的藍(lán)玻璃、一門線軸大炮一把什么鎖都打不開的鑰匙、碎粉筆、玻璃瓶塞、小錫兵、一對(duì)蝌蚪、六枚鞭炮、一只獨(dú)眼小貓咪、黃銅門把手、狗項(xiàng)圈—但是沒有狗、小刀的柄、四片橘子皮，還有一副馬上就要四分五裂的舊窗框。

湯姆的這個(gè)下午過得是輕松自在—有很多玩伴，柵欄還上了三道漆！要不是白漆用光了，村里每個(gè)孩子都會(huì)被湯姆搞到破產(chǎn)。

湯姆心想，人世間到底還是不怎么空虛的。不知不覺間，他已經(jīng)發(fā)現(xiàn)了人類行為的一項(xiàng)偉大定律—那就是，要想讓一個(gè)大人或者小孩對(duì)某件事情產(chǎn)生渴望，只要把那件事情變得來之不易。如果湯姆像本書作者一樣，是一位偉大而睿智的哲學(xué)家，那么此刻他應(yīng)該能領(lǐng)悟到，工作是必須要做的事，而玩耍則不是必須要做的事。只要明白這一點(diǎn)，他就能理解為什么組裝塑膠花和拉磨推碾子屬于工作，而打保齡球或者登山卻只是玩耍。在英國(guó)，一些有錢人喜歡在夏天駕著四驅(qū)馬車兜風(fēng)，一天能跑上二三十英里，因?yàn)樗麄冋J(rèn)為這是一項(xiàng)特權(quán)，還會(huì)為此花大錢。不過要是有人給他們發(fā)工資，讓他們提供這項(xiàng)服務(wù)，那么這件事就會(huì)成為一項(xiàng)工作，他們馬上就不愿意干了。
小男孩回味了一陣他的小世界里發(fā)生的這幾件大事，就溜達(dá)回總部領(lǐng)賞去了。