despair that reaches a certain pitch, unbearably acute, then falls by slow graduations of tone into silence and is taken up again. Jones starts, looks up, sees the figures, and throws himself down again to shut out the sight. A shudder of terror shakes his whole body as the wail rises up about him again. But the next time, his voice, as if under some uncanny compulsion, starts with the others. As their chorus lifts he rises to a sitting posture similar to the others, swaying back and forth. His voice reaches the highest pitch of sorrow, of desolation. The light fades out, the other voices cease, and only darkness is left. Jones can be heard scrambling to his feet and running off, his voice sinking down the scale and receding as he moves farther and farther away in the forest. The tom-tom beats louder, quicker, with a more insistent, triumphant pulsation.) SCENE SEVEN The foot of a gigantic tree by the edge of a great river. A rough structure of boulders, like an altar, is by the tree. The raised river bank is in the nearer background. Beyond this the surface of the river spreads out, brilliant and unruffled in the moonlight, blotted out and merged into a veil of bluish mist in the distance. Jones’ voice is heard from the left rising and falling in the long, despairing wail of the chained slaves, to the rhythmic beat of the tom-tom. As his voice sinks into silence, he enters the open space. The expression on his face is fixed and stony, his eyes have an obsessed glare, he moves with a strange deliberation like a sleepwalker or one in a trance. He looks around at the tree, the rough stone altar, the moonlit surface of the river beyond, and passes his hand over his head with a vague gesture of puzzled bewilderment. Then, as if in obedience to some obscure impulse, he sinks into a kneeling, devotional posture before the altar. Then he seems to come to himself partly, to have an uncertain realization of what he is doing, for he straightens up and stares about him horrifiedly—in an incoherent mumble. 琼斯猛地抬头观望，看到那些人影，又扑倒在地，避开那种景象。那阵嚎啕又在他身边升起时，他惊吓得浑身颤抖。可是接下来，他好象在某种不可思议的强制下，同其他人一道哼哼起来。在这种合声响起时，他爬起来，坐在地上，象那些人一样前后摇摆。他声调达到忧伤而凄凉的最强音。亮光熄灭，其它声音消逝，只剩下一片黑暗，可以听到琼斯爬起来的逃跑声，他的呼喊声随着他在林中越跑越远而渐渐低下来。手鼓咚咚声越来越响，越来越快，节奏敲得更为鲜明欢畅。) 第七场 [大河边上的一棵巨树脚下。树旁有一堆胡乱堆积的卵石，很像个祭坛。背景近处是高起的堤岸。越过它是一片铺开的河面，它在月光下平静而闪闪发光，渐渐同远处一层蓝雾融合。从左方传出那些让铁链锁住的奴隶的长声哀号，琼斯在其中合着手鼓的节拍发出时高时低的声音。他的声音静下来，这时他走进这块空场。脸上的表情僵硬而呆板，眼神困惑，他像梦游者或神志恍惚的人那样跌跌撞撞地走动。他环顾那棵树啦，那个粗糙的祭坛啦，那边月光照耀的河面啦，接着略显迷惑不解地抬手摸摸脑袋。随后，他好象顺从内心某种朦胧的冲动，虔诚地在祭坛前慢慢跪下来。接着，他好象半清醒过来，不大理解自己在干什么，因为他挺直身子，恐惧地向四周望去——语无伦次地嘟嚷。 What—what is I doin? What is—dis place? Seems like—seems 这——我这是在干什么？这儿——这儿like I know dat tree—an’ dem stones—an’ de river. I 是什么地方？我好象认识这棵树——还有那些 remember—seems like I been heah befo’. (tremblingly) Oh, Gorry, 石头——这条河。我记得——我好象到过这I’se skeered in dis place! I’se skeered! Oh, Lawd, pertect dis sinner! 里。(颤抖地)哦，老天爷，这地方真叫我害怕！ 真叫我害怕！哦，主啊，庇护我这个罪人吧！ (Crawling away from the altar, he cowers close to the ground, his face hidden, his shoulders heaving with sobs of hysterical fright. [他爬离那个祭坛，畏缩在地上，埋着头，From behind the trunk of the tree, as if he had sprung out of it, the 两肩随着歇斯底里的惊恐抽泣而一起一伏。从figure of the Congo witch-doctor appears. He is wizened and old, 那棵树后面，刚果巫医好象一下子蹦出来似的，naked except for the fur of some small animal tied about his waist, 出现在台上。他衰老，干瘪，除了腰间围着一its bushy tail hanging down in front. His body is stained all over a 块小兽皮之外，全身赤裸，身前还耷拉着那个bright red. Antelope horns are on each side of his head, branching 动物的毛茸茸的尾巴，他浑身涂抹着鲜红色，upward. In one hand he carries a bone rattle, in the other a charm 头上插着两根向上翘着的羚羊角，他一手拿着stick with a bunch of white cockatoo feathers tied to the end. A great 一个骨头作的拨浪棍，另一只手拄着一根顶端number of glass beads and bone ornaments are about his neck, ears, 捆着一把白鹦羽毛的魔杖。他脖子、耳朵、手wrists, and ankles. He struts noiselessly with a queer prancing step
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to a position in the clear ground between Jones and the altar. Then with a preliminary, summoning stamp of his foot on the earth, he begins to dance and to chant. As if in response to his summons the beating of the tom-tom grows to a fierce, exultant boom whose throbs seem to fill the air with vibrating rhythm. Jones looks up, starts to spring to his feet, reaches a half kneeling, half-squatting position and remains rigidly fixed there, paralyzed with awed fascination by this new apparition. The witch-doctor sways, stamping with his foot, his bone rattle clicking the time. His voice rises and falls in a weird, monotonous croon, without articulate word divisions. Gradually his dance becomes clearly one of a narrative in pantomime, his croon is an incantation, a charm to allay the fierceness of some implacable deity demanding sacrifice. He flees, he is pursued by devils, he hides, he flees again. Ever wilder and wilder becomes his flight, nearer and nearer draws the pursuing evil, more and more the spirit of terror gains possession of him. His croon, rising to intensity, is punctuated by shrill cries. Jones has become completely hypnotized. His voice joins in the incantation, in the cries, he beats time with his hands and sways his body to and fro from the waist. The whole spirit and meaning of the dance has entered into him, has become his spirit. Finally the theme of the pantomime halts on a howl of despair, and is taken up again in a note of savage hope. There is a salvation. The forces of evil demand sacrifice. They must be appeased. The witch-doctor points with his wand to the sacred tree, to the river beyond, to the altar, and finally to Jones with a ferocious command. Jones seems to sense the meaning of this. It is he who must offer himself for sacrifice. He beats his forehead abjectly to the ground, moaning hysterically) Mercy, Oh Lawd! Mercy! Mercy on dis po’ sinner. (The witch-doctor springs to the river bank. He stretches out his arms and calls to some God within its depths. Then he starts backward slowly, his arms remaining out. A huge head of a crocodile appears over the bank and its eves, glittering greenly, fasten upon Jones. He stares into them fascinatedly. The witch-doctor prances up to him, touches him with his wand, motions with hideous command toward the waiting monster. Jones squirms on his belly nearer and nearer, moaning continually) Mercy, Lawd! Mercy! (The crocodile heaves more of his enormous hulk onto the land. Jones squirms toward him. The witch-doctor’s voice shrills out in furious exultation, the tom-tom beats madly. Jones cries out in a fierce, exhausted spasm of anguished pleading) Lawd, save me! Lawd Jesus, hear my prayer! (Immediately, in answer to his prayer, comes the thought of the one bullet left him. He snatches at his hip, shouting defiantly)
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腕和脚踝上都挂着一大堆玻璃珠和骨制的装饰品。他跨着古怪的腾跃步子，神气活现而无声地走到祭坛和琼斯之间的那块地方。然后，他先用脚跺地鼓劲儿，接着又唱又舞起来。手鼓好象应答他的召唤，敲得猛烈而欢跃，声震云霄。琼斯抬头一看，猛地蹦起来，达到半跪半蹲的姿势就僵呆在那里了，让这种新出现的神奇现象吓瘫了。巫医晃动着身子，跺着脚，那根骨头作的拨浪棍格格响，打着拍子。他那离奇而单调的哼声时起时落，字眼不清。他那种舞蹈显然渐渐成为一种哑剧式的叙述，那种哼声是一种咒语，一种为了减轻某个难以安抚的神灵索要祭品那般凶恶劲儿而施的魔法。他逃跑，一群魔鬼在后面追赶，他躲藏一阵，又继续逃跑。他跑得越来越野，恶魔追得越来越近，恐怖的心情越来越支配着他，他那哼哼唧唧的声音加剧，不时被尖声叫喊打断。琼斯完全恍惚了。他自己的声音同那种咒语的尖叫声掺合在一起了，他用手打着拍子，上身左右摇摆晃动。那种舞蹈的精神意义，已经全部渗入了他的体内，成为他自己的精神。最后哑剧的主题在一阵绝望的吼叫声中终止，接着又被一种怀有强烈希望的情调所取代。有一种解救的办法了。恶势力索取祭品，他们必须给以满足。巫医用魔杖指一下那棵圣树，指一下远方的河流，指一下祭坛，最后凶恶而命令式地指向琼斯。琼斯好象理解这种意思，是他本人必须当作祭品。他可怜巴巴地连连磕头，歇斯底里地哽咽。 饶了我吧，主啊！饶了我吧！饶了我这个可怜的罪人吧。 [巫医跳到河堤上。他张开两臂，呼唤河流深处的某个神灵。然后，他慢慢向后退，两只胳臂依然大张着。河堤上冒出一条鳄鱼的大脑袋，两只眼睛闪着绿光，紧盯着琼斯。他惊惶失措地呆视着那两只眼睛。巫医腾跃到他的面前，用魔杖触他一下，可怕地示意他朝那个等待他的巨兽凑过去。琼斯腹贴地面，一点点向前蠕动，不断地哽咽。 饶了我吧，主啊！饶了我吧！ [鳄鱼把它那庞大的身躯朝陆地延伸过来一些。琼斯朝它慢慢蠕动过去。巫医狂喜地尖叫，手鼓敲得更加疯狂了，琼斯声嘶力竭地阵阵哀求呼叫。 主啊，救救我啊！耶稣主啊，听听我的祈祷吧！ [这样一阵祈祷之后，他顿时想起自己还剩下一颗子弹，他便伸手抓枪，挑衅地嚷叫着。] De silver bullet! You don’t git me yit! (He fires at the green eyes in front of him. The head of the crocodile sinks back behind the river bank, the witch-doctor springs behind the sacred tree and disappears. Jones lies with his face to the ground, his arms outstretched, whimpering with fear as the throb of the tom-tom fills the silence about him with a somber pulsation, a baffled but revengeful power.) SCENE EIGHT Dawn. Same as Scene Two, the dividing line of forest and plain. The nearest tree trunks are dimly revealed but the forest behind them is still a mass of glooming shadow. The tom-tom seems on the very spot, so loud and continuously vibrating are its beats. Lem enters from the left, followed by a small squad of his soldiers, and by the Cockney trader, Smithers. Lem is a heavy-set, ape-faced old savage of the extreme African type, dressed only in a loin cloth. A revolver and cartridge belt are about his waist. His soldiers are in different degrees of rag-concealed nakedness. All wear broad palm leaf hats. Each one carries a rifle. Smithers is the same as in Scene One. One of the soldiers, evidently a tracker, is peering about keenly on the ground. He grunts and points to the spot where Jones entered the forest. Lem and Smithers come to look. SMITHERS—(after a glance, turns away in disgust) That’s where ‘e went in right enough. Much good it’ll do yer. ‘E’s miles orf by this an’ safe to the Coast damn ‘S ‘ide! I tole yer yer’d lose ‘im, didn’t I?—wastin’ the ‘ole bloomin’ night beatin’ yer bloody drum and castin’ yer silly spells! Gawd blimey, wot a pack! LEM—(gutturally) We cotch him. You see. (He makes a motion to his soldiers who squat down on their haunches in a semi-circle.) SMITHERS—(exasperatedly) Well, ain’t yer goin ‘in an’ ‘unt ‘im in the woods? What the ‘ell’s the good of waitin’? LEM—(imperturbably—squatting down himself) We cotch him. SMITHERS—(turning away from him contemptuously) Aw! Garn! ‘E’s a better man than the lot o’ you put together. I ‘ates the sight o’ ‘im but I’ll say that for ‘im. (A sound of snapping twigs comes from the forest. The soldiers jump to their feet, cocking their rifles alertly. Lem remains sitting with an imperturbable expression, but listening intently. The sound from the woods is repeated. Lem makes a quick signal with his hand. His followers creep quickly but noiselessly into the forest, scattering so that each enters at a different spot.) SMITHERS—(in the silence that follows—a contemptuous whisper) You ain’t thinkin’ that would be ‘im, I ‘ope?
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那颗银子弹！你还没难倒我呢！ [他朝身前那一对绿眼睛射去，鳄鱼头缩回去，沉入河里。巫医跳回那棵圣树后面，消逝不见了。琼斯脸朝下趴在地上，两臂大张着，吓得呜咽啜泣，这时阵阵沉郁的鼓声，带着一股困惑的复仇的力量，响彻在他的四周。 第八场 [黎明。景与第二场同，森林和平原的分界处。最前面的树干依稀显露，后面的森林仍然是一片朦胧阴影。手鼓声好象就在那里，擂得震天价响。兰姆从左方上，后面跟着一小队他的士兵，还有那个伦敦佬气派的商人斯密泽斯。兰姆是个典型非洲人那样的土老汉，一张猿脸，体格粗壮，身上只裹一块腰布。他腰间插着一杆手枪，围着一排子弹。他的士兵裹有零碎破布，一个个不同程度地赤裸着。他们都戴着棕榈叶作的宽帽子。每个人都扛着一支步枪。斯密泽斯的打扮和第一场一样。其中一名士兵，显然是个追踪者，正敏锐地四下里察看。他朝琼斯进入森林的地点指去。兰姆和斯密泽斯走过去看看。 斯密泽斯：(瞥了一眼。厌恶地转身)他就是打这儿进去的，没错儿。这对你们又有多大用呢。他眼下早跑了好几里路，平安到达那边的海岸了。那个该死的混蛋！我告诉你，你们抓不住他啦，我不是说过了吗？——白白浪费了一整夜，没完没了地敲你们那面破鼓，傻念你们那套咒文，我的老天爷，这么一大群人！ 兰姆：(发出不清的喉音)我们抓得着他。你们瞧。(他朝士兵打个手势，他们就蹲下，形成一个半圆形。) 斯密泽斯：(绝望地)嗯，难道你们还不进入森林去追捕他吗？你们在这儿耗着，又有什么用？ 兰姆：(沉着地——自己也蹲下)我们抓得着他。 斯密泽斯：(蔑视地转身)哦！算了吧！他比你们这帮人加起来都要强。我一瞧见他就恶心，可我还是替他说这句话。 [从森林里传出一阵响声。士兵们跳起来，机警地举起枪。兰姆仍然无动于衷地坐着，不过仔细地倾听着。他迅速打个手势。他的随从急忙弯身潜入树林，向四下里散开，各就各位。] 斯密泽斯：：(一阵沉默然后是——轻蔑的低声说)我估计你不会认为那是他吧？ LEM—(calmly) We cotch him. 兰姆：(镇静地)我们抓得着他。 斯密泽斯：该死的倔脑袋瓜子！(又琢磨一下— SMITHERS—Blarsted fat ‘eads! (then after a second’s —纳闷地)不过，毕竟也可能发生。他要是在thought—wonderingly) Still an’ all, it ‘might ‘appen. If ‘e lost ‘is 这个臭树林里迷了路，很可能自己一点也没bloody way in these stinkin’ woods ‘e’d likely turn in a circle 察觉出，绕一个弯子又回到原处。 without ‘is knowin’ it. They all does. 兰姆：(断然地)嘘！(从森林里传出几声枪响，没多大会儿，紧跟着传出几声粗野的欢叫声。 LEM—(peremptorily) Sssh! (The reports of several rifles sound 手鼓声嘎然终止。兰姆咧嘴一笑，满意地抬from the forest, followed a second later by savage, exultant yells. 头望着那个白人)我们把他抓住了。他死了。 The beating of the tom-tom abruptly ceases. Lem looks up at the 斯密泽斯：(粗暴地)你怎么知道是他，你又怎么white man with a grin of satisfaction.) We cotch him. Him dead. 知道他已经死了？ 兰姆：我的部下用银子弹打中了他。铅子弹打不 SMITHERS—(with a snarl) ‘Ow d’yer know it’s ‘im an’ ‘ow d’yer 死他，他有强大的魔力。我花了钱，做了银know ‘e’s dead? 子弹，也有强大的魔力。 斯密泽斯：(惊讶地)原来你整宵在干这事呐！是 LEM—My mens dey got ‘urn silver bullets. Dey kill him shore. 吗？你没制成银子弹之前不敢追捕他，对不对？ SMITHERS—(astonished) They got silver bullets? 兰姆：(简单地道出事实)对，他有强大的魔力，铅子弹没用场。 LEM—Lead bullet no kill him. He got urn strong charm. I cook 斯密泽斯：(拍着大腿狂笑)哈，哈！你恐怕不容urn money, make urn silver bullet, make urn strong charm, too. 易致胜那个家伙！(恢复常态——轻蔑地)我敢打赌，他们根本没打中他，你这个大傻瓜！ SMITHERS—(light breaking upon him) So that’s wot you was up to all night, wot? You was scared to put after ‘im till you’d moulded 兰姆：(镇静地)他们现在把他扛出来了。(士兵们抬着琼斯软绵绵的身体从树林里走出来。他silver bullets, eh? 死了。他们把他抬到兰姆的面前，后者十分满意地检查那个尸体。 LEM—(simply stating a fact) Yes. Him got strong charm. Lead no 斯密泽斯：(探身在兰姆肩后瞧了一眼)哎呀，他good. 们到底还是把你逮住了，琼西㈡，我的小伙 SMITHERS—(slapping his thigh and guffawing) Haw-haw! If yer 子！的确已经僵挺了！(讥讽地)你那股庄严don’t beat all ‘ell! (then recovering himself—scornfully) I’ll bet yer 的派头哪儿去啦，神气活现的陛下？(接着咧it ain’t ‘im they shot at all, yer bleedin’ looney! 嘴一笑)银子弹！老天爷，不过你死得还是蛮有气派！ LEM—(calmly) Dey come bring him now. (The soldiers come out [幕落] of the forest, carrying Jones’ limp body. There is a little reddish purple hole under his left breast. He is dead. They carry him to Lem who examines his body with great satisfaction.) ㈠、马提尼克：拉丁美洲一岛国。 SMITHERS—(leans over his shoulder—in a tone of frightened awe) ㈡、琼西：琼斯的爱称。 Well, they did for yer fight enough, Jonsey, me lad! Dead as a ‘erring! (mockingly) Where’s yer ‘igh an’ mighty airs now, yer bloornin’ Majesty? (then with a grin) Silver bullets! Gawd blimey, but yer died in the ‘eighth o’ style, any’ow! (Curtain) 24