印第安人营地

作者: 海明威 译者: 玉澄
又一条划船拉上了湖岸。两个印第安人站在湖边等待着。
　　尼克和他的父亲跨进了船梢，两个印第安人把船推下水去，其中一个跳上船去划桨。乔治大叔坐在营船的尾部。那年轻的一个把营船推下了水，随即跳进去给乔治大叔划船。
　　两条船在黑暗中划出去。在浓雾里，尼克听到远远地在前面传来另一条船的桨架的声响。两个印第安人一桨接一桨，不停地划着，掀起了一阵阵水波。尼克躺倒下去，偎在父亲的胳膊里。湖面上很冷。给他们划船的那个印第安人使出了大劲，但是另一条船在雾里始终划在前面，而且越来越赶到前面去了。
　　"上哪儿去呀，爸爸？"尼克问道。
　　"上那边印第安人营地去。有一位印第安妇女病势很重。"
　　"噢，"尼克应道。
　　划到海湾的对岸，他们发现那另一条船已靠岸了。乔治大叔正在黑暗中抽雪茄烟。那年轻的印第安人把船推上了沙滩。乔治大叔给两个印第安人每人一支雪茄烟。
　　他们从沙滩走上去，穿过一片露水浸湿的草坪，跟着那个年轻的印第安人走，他手里拿一盏提灯。接着他们进入了林子，沿着一条羊肠小道走去，小道的尽头就是一条伐木的大路。这条路向小山那边折去，到了这里就明亮得多，因为两旁的树木都已砍掉了。年轻的印第安人立停了，吹灭了提灯，他们一起沿着伐木大路往前走去。
　　他们绕过了一道弯，有一只狗汪汪地叫着，奔出来。前面，从剥树皮的印第安人住的棚屋里，有灯光透出来，又有几只狗向他们扑过来了。两个印第安人把这几只狗都打发回棚屋去。最靠近路边的棚屋有灯光从窗口透射出来。一个老婆子提着灯站在门口。
　　屋里，木板床上躺着一个年轻的印第安妇女。她正在生孩子，已经两天了，孩子还生不下来。营里的老年妇女都来帮助她、照应她。男人们跑到了路上，直跑到再听不见她叫喊的地方，在黑暗中坐下来抽烟。尼克，还有两个印第安人，跟着他爸爸和乔治大叔走进棚屋时，她正好又尖声直叫起来。她躺在双层床的下铺，盖着被子，肚子鼓得高高的。她的头侧向一边。上铺躺着她的丈夫。三天以前，他把自己的腿给砍伤了，是斧头砍的，伤势很不轻。他正在抽板烟，屋子里一股烟味。
　　尼克的父亲叫人放些水在炉子上烧，在烧水时，他就跟尼克说话。
　　"这位太太快生孩子了，尼克，"他说。
　　"我知道，"尼克说。
　　"你并不知道，"父亲说。"听我说吧。她现在正在忍受的叫阵痛。婴孩要生下来，她要把婴孩生下来。她全身肌肉都在用劲要把婴孩生下来。方才她大声直叫就是这么回事。"
　　"我明白了，"尼克说道。
　　正在这时候，产妇又叫了起来。
　　"噢，爸爸，你不能给她吃点什么，好让她不这么直叫吗？"尼克问道。
　　"不行，我没有带麻药，"他的父亲说道。"不过让她去叫吧，没关系。我听不见，反正她叫不叫没关系。"
　　那做丈夫的在上铺翻了个身面向着墙壁。
　　厨房间里那个妇女向大夫做了个手势，表示水热了。尼克的父亲走进厨房，把大壶里的水倒了一半光景在盆里。然后他解开手帕，拿出一点药来放在壶里剩下的水里。
　　"这半壶水要烧开，"他说着，就用营里带来的肥皂在一盆热水里把手洗擦了一番。尼克望着父亲的满是肥皂的双手互相擦了又擦。他父亲一面小心地把双手洗得干干净净，一面说道：
　　"你瞧，尼克，按理说，小孩出生时头先出来，但有时却并不这样。不是头先出来。那就要给大家添不少麻烦了。说不定我要给这位女士动手术呢。等会儿就可以知道了。"
　　大夫认为自己的一双手已经洗干净了，于是他进去准备接生了。
　　"把被子掀开好吗，乔治？"他说。"我最好不碰它。"
　　过一会儿，他要动手术了。乔治大叔和三个印第安男人按住了产妇，不让她动。她咬了乔治大叔的手臂，乔治大叔说："该死的臭婆娘！"那个给乔治大叔划船的年轻的印第安人听了就笑他。尼克给他父亲端着盆，手术做了好长一段时间。
　　他父亲拎起了孩子，拍拍他，让他透过气来，然后把他递给了那个老妇人。
　　"瞧，是个男孩，尼克，"他说道。"做个实习大夫，你觉得怎么样？"
　　尼克说，"还行。"他把头转过去，不敢看他父亲在干什么。
　　"好吧，这就可以啦，"他父亲说着，把什么东西放进了盆里。
　　尼克看也不去看一下。
　　"现在，"他父亲说，"要缝上几针，看不看随便你，尼克。我要把切开的口子缝起来。"
　　尼克没有看。他的好奇心早就没有了。
　　他父亲做完手术，站起身来。乔治大叔和那三个印第安男人也站立起来。尼克把盆端到厨房去。
　　乔治大叔看看自己的手臂。那个年轻的印第安人想起什么，笑了起来。
　　"我要在你那伤口上放些过氧化物，乔治，"大夫说。
　　他弯下腰去看看印第安产妇，这会儿她安静下来了，她眼睛紧闭，脸色灰白。孩子怎么样，她不知道--她什么都不知道。
　　"一清早我就回去，"大夫站起身来说。"到中午时分会有护士从圣依格那斯来，我们需要些什么东西她都会带来。"
　　这当儿，他的劲头来了，喜欢说话了，就象一场比赛后足球运动员在更衣室里的那股得意劲儿。
　　"这个手术真可以上医药杂志了，乔治，"他说。"用一把大折刀做剖腹产手术，再用九英尺长的细肠线缝起来。"
　　乔治大叔靠墙站着，看着自己的手臂。
　　"噢，你是个了不起的人物，没错的。"他说道。
　　"该去看看那个洋洋得意的爸爸了。在这些小事情上做爸爸的往往最痛苦，"大夫说。"我得说，他倒是真能沉得住气。"
　　他把蒙着那个印第安人的头的毯子揭开来。他这么往上一揭，手湿漉漉的。他踏着下铺的床边，一只手提着灯，往上铺一看，只见那印第安人脸朝墙躺着。他的脖子贴两个耳根割开了一道大口子。鲜血直冒，使躺在床铺上的尸体全汪在血泊里。
　　他的头枕在左臂上。一把剃刀打开着，锋口朝上，掉在毯子上。
　　"快把尼克带出棚屋去，乔治，"大夫说。
　　其实用不到多此一举了。尼克正好在厨房门口，把上铺看得清清楚楚，那时他父亲正一手提着灯，一手把那个印第安人的脑袋轻轻推过去。
　　父子两个沿着伐木道走回湖边的时候，天刚刚有点亮。
　　"这次我真不该带你来，尼克，"父亲说，他做了手术后的那种得意的劲儿全没了。"真是糟透了--拖你来从头看到底。"
　　"女人生孩子都得受这么大罪吗？"尼克问道。
　　"不，这是很少、很少见的例外。"
　　"他干吗要自杀呀，爸爸？"
　　"我说不出，尼克。他这人受不了一点什么的，我猜想。"
　　"自杀的男人有很多吗，爸爸？"
　　"不太多，尼克。"
　　"女人呢，多不多？"
　　"难得有。"
　　"有没有呢？"
　　"噢，有的。有时候也有。"
　　"爸爸？"
　　"是呀。"
　　"乔治大叔上哪儿去呀？"
　　"他会来的，没关系。"
　　"死，难不难？爸爸？"
　　"不，我想死是很容易的吧。尼克。要看情况。"
　　他们上了船，坐了下来，尼克在船梢，他父亲划桨。太阳正从山那边升起来。一条鲈鱼跳出水面，在水面上弄出一个水圈。尼克把手伸进水里，让手跟船一起在水里滑过去。清早，真是冷飕飕的，水里倒是很温暖。
　　清早，在湖面上，尼克坐在船梢，他父亲划着船，他满有把握地相信他永远不会死。
     Indian Camp by Ernest Hemingway
    At the lake shore there was another rowboat drawn up. The two Indians stood waiting.
    Nick and his father got in the stern of the boat and the Indians shoved it off and one of them got in to row. Uncle George sat in the stern of the camp rowboat. The young Indian shoved the camp boat off and got in to row Uncle George.
    The two boats started off in the dark. Nick heard the oarlocks of the other boat quite a way ahead of them in the mist. The Indians rowed with quick choppy strokes. Nick lay back with his father's arm around him. It was cold on the water. The Indian who was rowing them was working very hard, but the other boat moved further ahead in the mist all the time.
    "Where are we going, Dad?" Nick asked.
    "Over to the Indian camp. There is an Indian lady very sick."
    "Oh," said Nick.
    Across the bay they found the other boat beached. Uncle George was smoking a cigar in the dark. The young Indian pulled the boat way up on the beach. Uncle George gave both the Indians cigars.
    They walked up from the beach through a meadow that was soaking wet with dew, following the young Indian who carried a lantern. Then they went into the woods and followed a trail that led to the logging road that ran back into the hills. It was much lighter on the logging road as the timber was cut away on both sides. The young Indian stopped and blew out his lantern and they all walled on along the road.
    They came around a bend and a dog came out barking. Ahead were the lights of the shanties where the Indian bark-peelers lived. More dogs rushed out at them. The two Indians sent them back to the shanties. In the shanty nearest the road there was a light in the window. An old woman stood in the doorway holding a lamp.
    Inside on a wooden bunk lay a young Indian woman. She had been trying to have her baby for two days. All the old women in the camp had been helping her. The men had moved off up the road to sit in the dark and smoke cut of range of the noise she made. She screamed just as Nick and the two Indians followed his father and Uncle George into the shanty. She lay in the lower bunk, very big under a quilt. Her head was turned to one side. In the upper bunk was her husband. He had cut his foot very badly with an ax three days before. He was smoking a pipe. The room smelled very bad.
    Nick's father ordered some water to be put on the stove, and while it was heating he spoke to Nick.
    "This lady is going to have a baby, Nick," he said.
    "I know," said Nick.
    "You don't know," said his father. "Listen to me. What she is going through is called being in labor. The baby wants to be born and she wants it to be born. All her muscles are trying to get the baby born. That is what is happening when she screams."
    "I see," Nick said.
    Just then the woman cried out.
    "Oh, Daddy, can't you give her something to make her stop screaming?" asked Nick.
    "No. I haven't any anaesthetic," his father said. "But her screams are not important. I don't hear them because they are not important."
    The husband in the upper bunk rolled over against the wall.
    The woman in the kitchen motioned to the doctor that the water was hot. Nick's father went into the kitchen and poured about half of the water out of the big kettle into a basin. Into the water left in the kettle he put several things he unwrapped from a handkerchief.
    "Those must boil," he said, and began to scrub his hands in the basin of hot water with a cake of soap he had brought from the camp. Nick watched his father's hands scrubbing each other with the soap. While his father washed his hands very carefully and thoroughly, he talked.
    "You see, Nick, babies are supposed to be born head first but sometimes they're not. When they're not they make a lot of trouble for everybody. Maybe I'll have to operate on this lady. We'll know in a little while."
    When he was satisfied with his hands he went in and went to work.
    "Pull back that quilt, will you, George?" he said. "I'd rather not touch it."
    Later when he started to operate Uncle George and three Indian men held the woman still. She bit Uncle George on the arm and Uncle George said, "Damn squaw bitch!" and the young Indian who had rowed Uncle George over laughed at him. Nick held the basin for his father. It all took a long time.
    His father picked the baby up and slapped it to make it breathe and handed it to the old woman.
    "See, it's a boy, Nick," he said. "How do you like being an interne?"
    Nick said. "All right." He was looking away so as not to see what his father was doing.
    "There. That gets it," said his father and put something into the basin.
    Nick didn't look at it.
    "Now," his father said, "there's some stitches to put in. You can watch this or not, Nick, just as you like. I'm going to sew up the incision I made."
    Nick did not watch. His curiosity had been gone for a long time.
    His father finished and stood up. Uncle George and the three Indian men stood up. Nick put the basin out in the kitchen.
    Uncle George looked at his arm. The young Indian smiled reminiscently.
    "I'll put some peroxide on that, George," the doctor said.
    He bent over the Indian woman. She was quiet now and her eyes were closed. She looked very pale. She did not know what had become of the baby or anything.
    "I'll be back in the morning." the doctor said, standing up.
    "The nurse should be here from St. Ignace by noon and she'll bring everything we need."
    He was feeling exalted and talkative as football players are in the dressing room after a game.
    "That's one for the medical journal, George," he said. "Doing a Caesarian with a jack-knife and sewing it up with nine-foot, tapered gut leaders."
    Uncle George was standing against the wall, looking at his arm.
    "Oh, you're a great man, all right," he said.
    "Ought to have a look at the proud father. They're usually the worst sufferers in these little affairs," the doctor said. "I must say he took it all pretty quietly."
    He pulled back the blanket from the Indian's head. His hand came away wet. He mounted on the edge of the lower bunk with the lamp in one hand and looked in. The Indian lay with his face toward the wall. His throat had been cut from ear to ear. The blood had flowed down into a pool where his body sagged the bunk. His head rested on his left arm. The open razor lay, edge up, in the blankets.
    "Take Nick out of the shanty, George," the doctor said.
    There was no need of that. Nick, standing in the door of the kitchen, had a good view of the upper bunk when his father, the lamp in one hand, tipped the Indian's head back.
    It was just beginning to be daylight when they walked along the logging road back toward the lake.
    "I'm terribly sorry I brought you along; Nickie," said his father, all his post-operative exhilaration gone. "It was an awful mess to put you through."
    "Do ladies always have such a hard time having babies?" Nick asked.
    "No, that was very, very exceptional."
    "Why did he kill himself, Daddy?"
    "I don't know, Nick. He couldn't stand things, I guess."
    "Do many men kill themselves, Daddy?"
    "Not very many, Nick."
    "Do many women?"
    "Hardly ever."
    "Don't they ever?"
    "Oh, yes. They do sometimes."
    "Daddy?"
    "Yes."
    "Where did Uncle George go?"
    "He'll turn up all right."
    "Is dying hard, Daddy?"
    "No, I think it's pretty easy, Nick. It all depends."
    They were seated in the boat. Nick in the stern, his father rowing. The sun was coming up over the hills. A bass jumped, making a circle in the water. Nick trailed his hand in the water. It felt warm in the sharp chill of the morning.
    In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing; he felt quite sure that he would never die.
    1924