湯姆歷險(xiǎn)記Chapter 15 姆回家暗訪，心花怒放返營(yíng)房

 Chapter 15
      
      
        
            
      
   
    A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the
    Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current
    would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining
    hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster
    than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he
    found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his
    piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming
    garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village,
    and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was
    quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes,
    slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did
    "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and
    waited, panting.

    Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A
    minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and
    the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last
    trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and
    Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of
    danger of possible stragglers.

    He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence.
    He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window,
    for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother,
    grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the
    door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and
    the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it
    creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through
    and began, warily.

    "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why,
    that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long
    and shut it, Sid."

    Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for
    a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot.

    "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't bad, so to say --
    only mischeevous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more
    responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that
    ever was" -- and she began to cry.

    "It was just so with my Joe -- always full of his devilment, and up to every kind
    of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be -- and laws bless me, to
    think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed
    it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never,
    never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break.

    "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been
    better in some ways --"

    "Sid!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it.
    "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of him -- never you
    trouble yourself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how
    to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me,
    'most."

    "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away -- Blessed be the name of the Lord!
    But it's so hard -- Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right
    under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon -- Oh, if it
    was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it."

    "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you
    feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of
    Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I
    cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his
    troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach --"

    But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was
    snuffling, now, himself -- and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear
    Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a
    nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his
    aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy -- and the
    theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted
    and lay still.

    He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first
    that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed;
    next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear
    something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and
    decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below,
    presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some
    five or six miles below the village -- and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else
    hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the
    search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have
    occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped
    to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope
    would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered.

    Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the
    two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry,
    and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and
    Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart.

    Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such
    measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears
    again, long before she was through.

    He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted
    ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was
    still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the
    bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was
    full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But
    something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy
    solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and
    kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind
    him.

    He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked
    boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman,
    who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern,
    slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above
    the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the
    landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved
    to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate
    prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end
    in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods.

    He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then
    started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight
    before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was
    well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the
    stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe
    say:

    "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that
    would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to
    something or other. Now I wonder what?"

    "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?"

    Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to
    breakfast."

    "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly
    into camp.

    A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to
    work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful
    company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to
    sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore.