Three men in a boat / Трое в лодке, не считая собаки. Книга для чтения на английском языке

2. How does the narrator know about his illness?

3. Why is the narrator a good gift for a medical class?

4. Where does the narrator go after visiting the library? Why?

5. Can the chemist help the narrator? Why / why not?

6. What is the general symptom of the narrator’s disease? How did his relatives help him to cure the disease in his childhood?

7. What remedy do the friends find to cure their diseases?

8. Why is the narrator against a sea trip?

9. Who isn’t inspired by the common decision to go up the river? Why?

10. Who is Montmorency?

10. Retell the chapter for the persons of Harris, the doctor, the narrator’s brother-in-law, Montmorency.

CHAPTER II

We pulled out the maps, and discussed plans. We arranged to start next Saturday from Kingston. Harris and I would go down the river in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and George, who would not be able to get away from the City till the afternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day, except Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two), would meet us there.

Should we “camp out” or sleep at inns? George and I were for camping out. We said it would be so wild and free.

Slowly the golden memory of the dead sun fades from the hearts of the cold, sad clouds. Silent, like disappointed children, the birds have stopped their song. From the dim woods on the both banks, Night’s ghostly army, the grey shadows, creep out with noiseless steps; and Night, upon her gloomy throne, spreads her black wings[14 - to spread the wings – расправить крылья] above the darkening world, and, from her phantom palace, lit by the pale stars, reigns in calmness.

Then we run our little boat into some quiet bay, and the tent is set up, and the supper cooked and eaten. Then the big pipes are filled and lighted, and the pleasant chat goes round like quiet music; while, in the pauses of our talk, the river, playing round the boat, whispers strange old tales and secrets, sings low the old child’s song that it has sung so many thousand years – will sing so many thousand years to come, before its voice grows harsh and old – a song that we think, somehow, we understand.

And we sit there, by its bank, while the moon, who loves it too, bends down to kiss it with a sister’s kiss, and throws her silver arms around it[15 - and throws her silver arms around it – и обнимает ее своими серебряными руками]; and we watch it as it flows, ever singing, ever whispering, out to meet its king, the sea – till our voices die away in silence, and the pipes go out – till we, common, everyday young men enough, feel strangely full of thoughts, half sad, half sweet, and do not care or want to speak – till we laugh, and, rising, knock the ashes from our burnt-out pipes, and say “Good-night,” and, lulled by the splashing water and the rustling trees[16 - lulled by the splashing water and the rustling trees – убаюканные плеском воды и шелестом деревьев], we fall asleep under the great, still stars, and dream that the world is young again.

Harris said: “How about when it rained?”

You can never inspire Harris. There is no poetry about Harris. Harris never “cries, he knows not why.” If Harris’s eyes fill with tears, you can bet it is because Harris has been eating raw onions, or has put too much Worcester[17 - Worcester = Worcester sauce – Вустерский соус (кисло-сладкий, пикантный английский соус на основе уксуса, сахара и рыбы)] over his chop.

If you were to[18 - if you were to – если бы вам довелось] stand at night by the sea-shore with Harris, and say:

“Listen! Do you not hear? Is it but the mermaids singing deep below the waving waters; or sad spirits?” Harris would take you by the arm, and say:

“I know what it is, old man; you’ve got a cold. Now, you come along with me. I know a place round the corner here, where you can get a drop of the finest Scotch whisky you ever tasted – put you right in less than no time.”

Harris always knows a place round the corner where you can get something brilliant in the drinking line. I believe that if you met Harris up in Paradise (supposing such a thing likely), he would immediately greet you with:

“So glad you’ve come, old fellow; I’ve found a nice place round the corner here, where you can get some really first-class nectar.”

In the present instance, however, as for the camping out, his practical view of the matter was just in time. Camping out in rainy weather is not pleasant. It is evening. You are wet through, and there is a good two inches[19 - inch – дюйм (1 дюйм = 2,54 см)] of water in the boat, and all the things are damp. You find a place on the banks that is not quite so wet as other places you have seen, and you land, and two of you start to fix the tent.

It is wet and heavy, and it flops about, and falls down on you, and clings round your head and makes you mad. The rain is pouring steadily down all the time. It is difficult enough to fix a tent in dry weather: in wet, the task becomes extremely difficult. Instead of helping you, it seems to you that the other man is simply playing the fool[20 - to play the fool – паясничать, валять дурака]. Just as you get your side beautifully fixed, he lifts it from his end, and spoils it all.

“Here! what are you up to[21 - to be up to – замышлять что-то, намереваться что-то сделать]?” you call out.

“What are you up to?” he objects; “let it go, can’t you?”

“Don’t pull it; you’ve got it all wrong, you stupid fool!” you shout.

“No, I haven’t,” he yells back; “let go your side!”

“I tell you you’ve got it all wrong!” you roar, wishing that you could get at him; and you pull your ropes that all his pegs are out.

“Ah, the idiot!” you hear him mutter to himself; and then comes a savage haul, and your side goes away. You start to go round and tell him what you think about the whole business, and, at the same time, he starts round in the same direction to come and explain his views to you. And you follow each other round and round, swearing at one another, until the tent falls down, and leaves you looking at each other across its ruins, when you both indignantly exclaim, in the same breath:

“There you are! What did I tell you?”

Meanwhile the third man, who has been baling out[22 - to bale out – вычерпывать воду (из лодки)] the boat, and who has spilled the water down his sleeve, and has been cursing away to himself steadily for the last ten minutes, wants to know why the tent isn’t up yet.

At last, somehow or other, it does get up, and you land the things. It is hopeless attempting to make a wood fire, so you light the methylated spirit stove[23 - methylated spirit stove – спиртовка], and crowd round that.

Rainwater is the chief component of diet at supper. The bread is two-thirds rainwater, the beefsteak-pie is extremely rich in it, and the jam, and the butter, and the salt, and the coffee have all combined with it to make soup. After supper, you find your tobacco is damp, and you cannot smoke. Luckily you have a bottle of the stuff that cheers, if taken in right quantity, and you go to bed.

There you dream that an elephant has suddenly sat down on your chest, and that the volcano has exploded and thrown you down to the bottom of the sea – the elephant still sleeping peacefully on your chest. You wake up and realize that something terrible really has happened. Your first impression is that the end of the world has come; and then you think that this cannot be, and that it is thieves and murderers, or else fire, and this opinion you express in the usual method. No help comes, however, and all you know is that thousands of people are kicking you, and you are being suffocated.

Somebody else seems in trouble, too. You can hear his faint cries coming from underneath your bed. Being determined to sell your life expensively, you fight, hitting out right and left with arms and legs, and yelling, and at last something gives way, and you find your head in the fresh air. Two feet off[24 - two feet off – в двух футах (1 фут = 0,3 м)], you see a half-dressed hooligan, waiting to kill you, and you are preparing for a life-and-death struggle with him, when you realize that it’s Jim.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he says, recognizing you at the same moment.

“Yes,” you answer, rubbing your eyes; “what’s happened?”

“The tent’s blown down, I think,” he says. “Where’s Bill?”

Then you both raise up your voices and shout for “Bill!” and the ground beneath you heaves, and the faint voice that you heard before replies from out the ruin:

“Get off my head, can’t you?”

And Bill struggles out in an aggressive mood – he believes that the whole thing has been done on purpose.

In the morning you are all three speechless, having to catch severe colds at night; you also feel very quarrelsome, and you swear at each other in hoarse whispers during the whole of breakfast time.

We therefore decided that we would sleep out at fine nights and in hotel, or inn, like respectable people, when it was wet, or when we wanted a change.

Montmorency greeted this compromise with much approval. He does not enjoy romantic loneliness. To look at Montmorency you would imagine that he was an angel sent upon the earth, for some reason in the shape of a small fox-terrier. There is a sort of Oh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-so-mething-to-make-it-better-and-nobler expression about Montmorency that has been known to bring the tears into the eyes of old ladies and gentlemen.

When first he came to live at my expense[25 - at my expense – за мой счет], I never thought I should be able to get him to stop long[26 - I never thought I should be able to get him to stop long – я даже не думал, что мне удастся задержать его надолго]. I used to sit down and look at him, as he sat on the rug and looked up at me, and think: “Oh, that dog will never live. He will be taken to the bright skies that is what will happen to him.” But, when I had paid for about a dozen chickens that he had killed; and had dragged him, growling and kicking, by the scruff of his neck, out of a hundred and fourteen street fights; and an angry woman, who called me a murderer, had brought me a dead cat, then I began to think that maybe they’d let him remain on earth for a bit longer, after all.

Having thus settled the sleeping arrangements to the satisfaction of all four of us, the only thing left to discuss[27 - the only thing left to discuss – единственным, что оставалось обсудить] was what we should take with us; and this we had begun to argue, when Harris said he’d had enough oratory for one night, and proposed that we should go out and have a smile[28 - to have a smile = (сленг) to have a drink], saying that he had found a place, round by the square, where you could really get a drop of Irish worth drinking.

George said he felt thirsty (I never knew George when he didn’t); and the debate was, by common agreement, postponed till the following night; and the assembly put on its hats and went out.

Exercises