Kabanata Kabanata 9 · 第9章

The next day an incident served to confirm Billy Budd in his incredulity

as to the Dansker’s strange summing-up of the case submitted.

The ship at noon going large before the wind was rolling on her course,

and he, below at dinner and engaged in some sportful talk with the

members of his mess, chanced in a sudden lurch to spill the entire

contents of his soup-pan upon the new-scrubbed deck. Claggart, the

master-at-arms, official ratan in hand, happened to be passing along the

battery in a bay of which the mess was lodged, and the greasy liquid

streamed just across his path. Stepping over it, he was proceeding on

his way without comment, since the matter was nothing to take notice of

under the circumstances, when he happened to observe who it was that had

done the spilling. His countenance changed. Pausing, he was about to

ejaculate something hasty at the sailor, but checked himself, and

pointing down to the streaming soup, playfully tapped him from behind

with his ratan, saying, in a low musical voice, peculiar to him at

times, ‘Handsomely done, my lad! And handsome is as handsome did it,

too!’ and with that passed on. Not noted by Billy as not coming within

his view was the involuntary smile, or rather grimace, that accompanied

Claggart’s equivocal words. Aridly it drew down the thin corners of his

shapely mouth. But everybody taking his remark as meant for humorous,

and at which therefore as coming from a superior they were bound to

laugh, ‘with counterfeited glee,’ acted accordingly; and Billy, tickled,

it may be, by the allusion to his being the Handsome Sailor, merrily

joined in; then addressing his messmates exclaimed, ‘There, now, who

says that Jemmy Legs is down on me!’

‘And who said he was, Beauty?’ demanded one Donald with some surprise.

Whereat the foretopman looked a little foolish, recalling that it was

only one person, Board-her-in-the-smoke, who had suggested what to him

was the smoky idea that this pleasant master-at-arms was in any peculiar

way hostile to him. Meantime that functionary resuming his path must

have momentarily worn some expression less guarded than that of the

bitter smile and, usurping the face from the heart, some distorting

expression perhaps, for a drummer-boy heedlessly frolicking along from

the opposite direction, and chancing to come into light collision with

his person, was strangely disconcerted by his aspect. Nor was the

impression lessened when the official, impulsively giving him a sharp

cut with the ratan, vehemently exclaimed, ‘Look where you go!’

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