Unit-11-The-Story-of-an-Eyewitness课文翻译综合教程四.doc

Unit 11The Story of an EyewitnessJack London1 The earthquake shook down in San Francisco hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of walls and chimneys. But the conflagration that followed burned up hundreds of millions of dollars worth of property. There is no estimating within hundreds of millions the actual damage wrought.2 Not in history has a modern imperial city been so completely destroyed. San Francisco is gone. Nothing remains of it but memories and fringe of dwelling houses on its outskirts. Its industrial section is wiped out. Its business section is wiped out. Its social and residential section is wiped out. The factories and warehouses, the great stores and newspaper buildings, the hotels and the palaces of the nabobs, are all gone. Remains only the fringe of dwelling houses on the outskirts of what was once San Francisco.3 Within an hour after the earthquake shock, the smoke of San Franciscos burning was a lurid tower visible a hundred miles away. And for three days and nights this lurid tower swayed in the sky, reddening the sun, darkening the day, and filling the land with smoke.4 On Wednesday morning at quarter past five came the earthquake. A minute later the flames were leaping upward. In a dozen different quarters south of Market Street, in the working class ghetto and in the factories, fires started. There was no opposing the flames. There was no organization, no communication. All the cunning adjustments of a twentieth-century city had been smashed by the earthquake. The streets were humped into ridges and depressions, and piled with the debris of fallen walls. The steel rails were twisted into perpendicular and horizontal angles. The telephone and telegraph systems were disrupted. And the great water mains had burst. All the shrewd contrivances and safeguards of man had been thrown out of gear by thirty seconds twitching of the earth-crust.5 By Wednesday afternoon, inside of twelve hours, half the heart of the city was gone. At that time I watched the vast conflagration from out on the bay. It was dead calm. Not a flicker of wind stirred. Yet from every side wind was pouring in upon the city. East, west, north, and south, strong winds were blowing upon the doomed city. The heated air rising made an enormous suck. Thus did the fire of itself build its own colossal chimney through the atmosphere. Day and night this dead calm continued, and yet, near to the flames, the wind was often half a gale, so mighty was the suck.6 Wednesday night saw the destruction of the very heart of the city. Dynamite was lavishly used, and many of San Franciscos proudest structures were crumbled by man himself into ruins, but there was no withstanding the onrush of the flames. Time and again successful stands were made by the firefighters and every time the flames flanked around on either side, or came up from the rear, and turned to defeat the hard won victory.7 An enumeration of the buildings destroyed would be a directory of San Francisco. An enumeration of the buildings undestroyed would be a line and several addresses. An enumeration of the deeds of heroism would stock a library and bankrupt the Carnegie medal fund. An enumeration of the dead will never be made. All vestiges of them were destroyed by the flames. The number of the victims of the earthquake will never be known. South of Market Street, where the loss of life was particularly heavy, was the first to catch fire.8 Remarkable as it may seem, Wednesday night, while the whole city crashed and roared into ruin, was a quiet night. There were no crowds. There was no shouting and yelling. There was no hysteria, no disorder. I passed Wednesday night in the path of the advancing flames, and in all those terrible hours I saw not one woman who wept, not one man who was excited, not one person who was in the slightest degree panic-stricken.9 Before the flames, throughout the night, fled tens of thousands of homeless ones. Some were wrapped in blankets. Others carried bundles of bedding and dear household treasures. Sometimes a whole family was harnessed to a carriage or delivery wagon that was weighted down with their possessions. Baby buggies, toy wagons and go-carts were used as trucks, while every other person was dragging a trunk. Yet everybody was gracious. The most perfect courtesy obtained. Never, in all San Franciscos history, were her people so kind and courteous as on this night of terror.10 All night these tens of thousands fled before the flames. Many of them, the poor people from the labor ghetto, had fled all day as well. They had left their homes burdened with possessions. Now and again they lightened up, flinging out upon the street clothing and treasures they had dragged for miles.11 They held on longest to their trunks, and over these trunks many a strong man broke his heart that night. The hills of San Francisco are steep, and up these hills, mile after mile, were the trunks dragged. Everywhere were trunks, with across them lying their exhausted owners, men and women. Before the march of the flames were flung picket lines of soldiers. And a block at a time, as the flames advanced, these pickets retreated. One of their tasks was to keep the trunk-pullers moving. The exhausted creatures, stirred on by the menace of bayonets, would arise and struggle up the steep pavements, pausing from weakness every five or ten feet.12 Often, after surmounting a heart-breaking hill, they would find another wall of flame advancing upon them at right angles and be compelled to change anew the line of their retreat. In the end, completely played out, after toiling for a dozen hours like giants, thousands of them were compelled to abandon their trunks. Here the shop-keepers and soft members of the middle class were at a disadvantage. But the working-men dug holes in vacant lots and backyards and buried their trunks.13 At nine oclock Wednesday evening, I walked down through the very heart of the city. I walked through miles and miles of magnificent buildings and towering skyscrapers. There was no fire. All was in perfect order. The people patrolled the streets. Every building had its watchman at the door. And yet it was doomed, all of it. There was no water. The dynamite was giving out. And at right angles two different conflagrations were sweeping down upon it.14 At one oclock in the morning I walked down the same section. Everything still stood intact. There was no fire. And yet there was a change. A rain of ashes was falling. The watchmen at the doors were gone. The police had been withdrawn. There were no firemen, no fire-engines, no men fighting with dynamite. The district had been absolutely abandoned.15 I stood at the corner of Kearney and Market, in the very innermost heart of San Francisco. Kearney Street was deserted. Half a dozen blocks away it was burning on both sides. The street was a wall of flame. And against this wall of flame, silhouetted sharply, were two United States cavalrymen sitting their horses, calmly watching. That was all. Not another person was in sight. In the intact heart of the city two troopers sat their horses and watched.16 Surrender was complete. There was no water. The sewers had long since been pumped dry. There was no dynamite. Another fire had broken out farther uptown, and now from the three sides conflagrations were sweeping down. The fourth side had been burned earlier in the day. In that direction stood the tottering walls of the Examiner Building, the burned out Call Building, the smouldering ruins of Grand Hotel, and the gutted, devastated, dynamited Palace Hotel. 证人亲历杰克伦敦1 旧金山的地震摧毁了不少墙壁和烟囱，价值成千上万美元。而随后的大火更是烧毁了价值上亿的财产。实际损失纵使以亿计仍难以估算。2 这样一座现代化的宏伟城市被摧毁殆尽，史无前例。旧金山消失了。啥也没留下，只留下记忆和城郊残破的民宅。城市的工业区被夷为平地，商业区被夷为平地，社交区和居民区也被夷为平地。工厂、仓库、大商店、报社大楼、旅馆，还有富豪名流的豪华宅邸统统不见了。剩下的只有残破的民宅留在曾经叫做旧金山的城市的郊区。3 地震发生一小时之内，旧金山燃烧的可怕浓烟直上云霄，一百英里以外都能看见。足足三天三夜，这可怕的烟尘巨柱在空中摇晃，使太阳更红，使白昼昏暗，使大地蒙尘。4 地震发生在周三凌晨五点一刻。一分钟之后，烈焰腾空。在市场街以南十几处不同区域内，在工人阶级的贫民窟中和工厂里，火灾发生了。大火肆虐，人群束手。没有组织，没有联络。一座20世纪城市里的一切精巧的调节构造都被地震摧毁殆尽。街道拱起状如山脊或峡谷，到处是堆满残垣断壁的瓦砾场。钢轨歪七扭八。电话电报系统中断。巨大的输水网络爆裂。地壳30秒的震动使人类一切巧夺天工的创造和防护设施统统失灵。5 到了周三下午，在地震发生12小时之内，城市的中心区域已经消失了一半。那时，我从海湾眺望烈焰火海。周围是死一般的寂静。一丝风都没有。然而从四面八方大风都在向这座城市涌来。从东面、西面、北面和南面，强风劲吹，涌向这座万劫不复的城市。炽热蒸腾的气体形成强大的吸力，于是大火在空中造就了自己巨大的烟囱。这死一般的沉寂从白天持续到黑夜。然而，靠近烈火的地方，风声猎猎，吸力强劲。6 周三晚上，城市的中心区域被摧毁殆尽。人们使用大量炸药，旧金山许多最令人自豪的建筑被人们自己夷为废墟，但火焰仍然四处蔓延，势不可挡。消防员不时成功地暂时遏制了火势，但每次四面的火焰又卷土重来，或从后面猛扑上来，使来之不易的胜利付之东流。7 要记录被烧毁的建筑那将是整个旧金山的所有在册房屋，而要记录没有被烧毁的建筑可能只需要一行字加几个地址。如果记下所有英勇的事迹，肯定会塞满整个图书馆，耗尽全部卡内基奖章基金。死亡人数的记录则将永远无法获得。他们的一切都已灰飞烟灭。这场地震的受害者人数将永远无从得知。死亡最为惨重的市场街以南地区是首先着火的地方。8 这个周三晚上可能看起来非同凡响，因为虽然整个城市天崩地裂、排山倒海般沦为一片废墟，但却是个平静的夜晚。没有聚集的人群。没有大呼小叫。没有歇斯底里，没有混乱无序。周三晚上，我走在熊熊烈焰不断推进的路上，在那恐怖的时段里，我没看见一个痛哭流涕的女人，没看见一个情绪激动的男人，没看见任何人有一丝的惊慌失措。9 大火当前，整个夜晚，数万名无家可归的群众四散逃离。有些人裹着毯子。其他人携带着铺盖和值钱的家当。有时整家人带上行李坐上一辆载客或载货马车，把车子压得沉甸甸的。童车、玩具车和手推车都派上了用场，一半的人都拖着一个箱子。然而所有人都依然彬彬有礼，风度完美。在整个旧金山的历史上，人们都没有像在这个可怕的