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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
42.
The remedy to all problems, as always, was work. Hard, sweaty, nonstop labor1, that was what theHills had to offer, and plenty of it, and I couldn’t get enough. The harder I worked, the less I feltthe heat, and the easier it was to talk—or not talk—around the supper table.
But this wasn’t merely work. Being a jackaroo required stamina2, to be sure, but it alsodemanded a certain artistry. You had to be a whisperer with the animals. You had to be a reader ofthe skies, and the land.
You also had to possess a superior level of horsemanship. I’d come to Australia thinking Iknew my way around horses, but the Hills were Huns, each born in a saddle. Noel was the son of aprofessional polo player. (He’d been Pa’s former polo coach.) Annie could stroke a horse’s noseand tell you what that beast was thinking. And George climbed into a saddle more easily than mostpeople get into their beds.
A typical working day began in the middle of the night. Hours before dawn George and Iwould stumble outside, tackle the first chores, trying to get as much done as possible before thesun ascended3. At first light we’d saddle up, gallop4 to the edges of the Hills’ forty thousand acres(double the size of Balmoral) and begin to muster5. That is, move the herd6 of cattle from here tothere. We’d also search for individual cows that had strayed overnight, and drive them back intothe herd. Or load some onto a trailer and take them to another section. I rarely knew exactly whywe were moving these cows or those, but I got the bottom line:
Cows need their space.
I felt them.
Whenever George and I found a group of strays, a rebellious7 little cattle cabal8, that wasespecially challenging. It was vital to keep them together. If they scattered9, we’d be proper fucked.
It would take hours to round them up and then the day would be wrecked10. If one darted11 off, into astand of trees, say, George or I would have to ride full speed after it. Every now and then, mid-chase, you’d get whipped out of the saddle by a low-hanging branch, maybe knocked cold. Whenyou came to, you’d do a check for broken bones, internal bleeding, while your horse stoodmorosely over you.
The trick was never letting a chase last too long. Long chases wore out the cow, reduced itsbody fat, slashed12 its market value. Fat was money, and there was no margin13 for error with Aussiecattle, which had so little fat to begin with. Water was scarce, grass was scarce, and what littlethere was often got grubbed by kangaroos, which George and his family viewed as other peopleview rats.
I always flinched14, and chuckled15, at the way George spoke16 to errant cattle. He harangued17 them,abused them, cursed them, favoring one curse word in particular, a word many people go alifetime without using. George couldn’t go five minutes. Most people dive under a table when theyhear this word, but for George it was the Swiss Army knife of language—endless applications anduses. (He also made it sound almost charming, with his Aussie accent.)It was merely one of dozens of words in the complete George lexicon18. For instance, a fat was aplump cow ready for slaughter19. A steer20 was a young bull that should’ve been castrated but hadn’tbeen yet. A weaner was a calf21 newly split from its mother. A smoko was a cigarette break. Tuckerwas food. I spent a lot of late 2003 sitting high in the saddle, watching a weaner while sucking asmoko and dreaming of my next tucker.
Sometimes hard, sometimes tedious, mustering22 could be unexpectedly emotional. Youngfemales were easier, they went where you nudged them, but young males didn’t care for beingbossed around, and what they really didn’t like was being split from their mums. They cried,moaned, sometimes charged you. A wildly swung horn could ruin a limb or sever23 an artery24. But Iwasn’t afraid. Instead…I was empathetic. And the young males seemed to know.
The one job I wouldn’t do, the one piece of hard work I shied from, was snipping25 balls. Everytime George brought out that long shiny blade I’d raise my hands. No, mate, can’t do it.
Suit yourself.
At day’s end I’d take a scalding shower, eat a gargantuan26 supper, then sit with George on theporch, rolling cigarettes, sipping27 cold beers. Sometimes we’d listen to his small CD player, whichmade me think of Pa’s wireless28. Or Henners. He and the other boy went to borrow another CDplayer…Often we’d just sit gazing into the distance. The land was so tabletop flat you could seethunderstorms brewing29 hours ahead of when they arrived, the first spidery bolts flicking30 the far-offland. As the bolts got thicker, and closer, wind would race through the house, ruffling31 the curtains.
Then the rooms would flutter with white light. The first thunderclaps would shake the furniture.
Finally, the deluge32. George would sigh. His parents would sigh. Rain was grass, rain was fat. Rainwas money.
If it didn’t rain, that also felt like a blessing33, because after a windstorm the clear sky would bepeppered with stars. I’d point out to George what the gang in Botswana had pointed34 out to me. Seethat bright one next to the moon? That’s Venus. And over there, that’s Scorpius—best place to seeit is the southern hemisphere. And there’s Pleiades. And that’s Sirius—brightest star in the sky.
And there’s Orion: the Hunter. All comes down to hunting, doesn’t it? Hunters, hunted…What’s that, Harry35?
Nothing, mate.
The thing I found endlessly mesmerizing36 about the stars was how far away they all were. Thelight you saw was born hundreds of centuries ago. In other words, looking at a star, you werelooking at the past, at a time long before anyone you knew or loved had lived.
Or died.
Or disappeared.
George and I usually hit the sack about eight thirty. Often we were too tired to take off ourclothes. I was no longer afraid of the dark, I craved37 it. I slept as if dead, woke as if reborn. Sore,but ready for more.
There were no days off. Between the relentless38 work, the relentless heat, the relentless cows, Icould feel myself being whittled39 down, lighter40 each morning by a kilo, quieter by a few dozenwords. Even my British accent was being pared away. After six weeks I sounded nothing likeWilly and Pa. I sounded more like George.
And dressed a bit like him as well. I took to wearing a slouchy felt cowboy hat like his. Icarried one of his old leather whips.
Finally, to go with this new Harry, I acquired a new name. Spike41.
It happened like this. My hair had never fully42 recovered after I’d let my Eton schoolmatesshave it. Some strands43 shot up like summer grass, some lay flat, like lacquered hay. George oftenpointed at my head and said: You look a right mess! But on a trip to Sydney, to see the RugbyWorld Cup, I’d made an official appearance at the Taronga Zoo, and I’d been asked to pose for aphoto with something called an echidna. A cross between a hedgehog and an anteater, it had hardspiky hair, which was why the zookeepers named it Spike. It looked, as George would say, a rightmess.
More to the point, it looked like me. A lot like me. And when George happened to see a photoof me posing with Spike, he yelped44.
Haz—that thing’s got your hair!
Thereafter, he never called me anything but Spike. And then my bodyguards46 took up thechorus. Indeed, they made Spike my code name on the radio. Some even printed up T-shirts,which they wore while guarding me: Spike 2003.
Soon enough my mates at home got wind of this new nickname, and adopted it. I becameSpike, when I wasn’t Haz, or Baz, or Prince Jackaroo, or Harold, or Darling Boy, or Scrawny, anickname given me by some Palace staff. Identity had always been problematic, but with a halfdozen formal names and a full dozen nicknames it was turning into a hall of mirrors.
Most days I didn’t care what people called me. Most days I thought: Don’t care who I am, solong as it’s someone new, someone other than Prince Harry. But then an official package wouldarrive from London, from the Palace, and the old me, the old life, the royal life, would comeracing back.
The packet usually arrived in the everyday mail, though sometimes it was under the arm of anew bodyguard45. (There was a constant changing of the guard, every couple of weeks, to keep themfresh and let them see their families.) Inside the packet would be letters from Pa, office paperwork,plus some briefs about charities in which I was involved. All stamped: Att HRH Prince Henry ofWales.
One day the package contained a series of memos47 from the Palace comms team about adelicate matter. Mummy’s former butler had penned a tell-all, which actually told nothing. It wasmerely one man’s self-justifying, self-centering version of events. My mother once called thisbutler a dear friend, trusted him implicitly48. We did too. Now this. He was milking herdisappearance for money. It made my blood boil. I wanted to fly home, confront him. I phoned Pa,announced that I was getting on a plane. I’m sure it was the one and only conversation I had withhim while I was in Australia. He—and then, in a separate phone call, Willy—talked me out of it.
All we could do, they both said, was issue a united condemnation49.
So we did. Or they did. I had nothing to do with the drafting. (Personally, I’d have gone muchfurther.) In measured tones it called out the butler for his treachery, and publicly requested ameeting with him, to uncover his motives50 and explore his so-called revelations.
The butler answered us publicly, saying he welcomed such a meeting. But not for anyconstructive purpose. To one newspaper he vowed51: “I’d love to give them a piece of my mind.”
He wanted to give us a piece of his mind?
I waited anxiously for the meeting. I counted the days.
Of course it didn’t happen.
I didn’t know why; I assumed the Palace quashed it.
I told myself: Shame.
I thought of that man as the one errant steer that got away that summer.
1 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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2 stamina | |
n.体力;精力;耐力 | |
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3 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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5 muster | |
v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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6 herd | |
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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7 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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8 cabal | |
n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
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9 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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10 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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11 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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12 slashed | |
v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 );鞭打;割破;削减 | |
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13 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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14 flinched | |
v.(因危险和痛苦)退缩,畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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17 harangued | |
v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 lexicon | |
n.字典,专门词汇 | |
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19 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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20 steer | |
vt.驾驶,为…操舵;引导;vi.驾驶 | |
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21 calf | |
n.小牛,犊,幼仔,小牛皮 | |
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22 mustering | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的现在分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
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23 sever | |
v.切开,割开;断绝,中断 | |
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24 artery | |
n.干线,要道;动脉 | |
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25 snipping | |
n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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26 gargantuan | |
adj.巨大的,庞大的 | |
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27 sipping | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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28 wireless | |
adj.无线的;n.无线电 | |
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29 brewing | |
n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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30 flicking | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的现在分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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31 ruffling | |
弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 ); 弄乱; 激怒; 扰乱 | |
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32 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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33 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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34 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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35 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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36 mesmerizing | |
adj.有吸引力的,有魅力的v.使入迷( mesmerize的现在分词 ) | |
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37 craved | |
渴望,热望( crave的过去式 ); 恳求,请求 | |
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38 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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39 whittled | |
v.切,削(木头),使逐渐变小( whittle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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41 spike | |
n.长钉,钉鞋;v.以大钉钉牢,使...失效 | |
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42 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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43 strands | |
n.(线、绳、金属线、毛发等的)股( strand的名词复数 );缕;海洋、湖或河的)岸;(观点、计划、故事等的)部份v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44 yelped | |
v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 bodyguard | |
n.护卫,保镖 | |
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46 bodyguards | |
n.保镖,卫士,警卫员( bodyguard的名词复数 ) | |
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47 memos | |
n.备忘录( memo的名词复数 );(美)内部通知 | |
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48 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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49 condemnation | |
n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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50 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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51 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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