(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
Our story today is called "The Open Boat." It was written by Stephen Crane and is based on what really happened to him in eighteen ninety-six. Crane was traveling from the United States to Cuba as a newspaper reporter. One night, his ship hit a sandbar. It sank in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Florida. Most of the people on board got into lifeboats. Crane was among the last to leave. There were three others with him: the ship's captain, the cook, and a sailor. These four men climbed into the only remaining lifeboat. The boat was so small that no one believed it could stay afloat for very long. None of the four men thought he would ever reach the shore. But the men fought the seas bravely, with all their strength. Would they finally reach land? Here is Shep O'Neal with the first part of the story. The small lifeboat bounced from wave to wave in the rough seas of the Atlantic. The four men in the boat could not see the sky. The waves rose too high.
The waves with their white tops pushed at the open boat with angry violence. Every man thought each wave would be his last. Surely, the boat would sink and he would drown. The men thought that most adults would need a bathtub larger than the boat they were sailing. The waves were huge, and each created a problem in guiding the direction of the boat. For two days, since the ship sank, the four men had been struggling to reach land. But there was no land to be seen. All the men saw were violent waves which rose and came fiercely down on them. The men sat in the boat, wondering if there was any hope for them. The ship's cook sat in the bottom of the boat. He kept looking at the fifteen centimeters which separated him from the ocean. The boat had only two wooden oars. They were so thin – it seemed as if they would break against the waves. The sailor, named Billie, directed the boat's movement with one of the oars. The newspaper reporter pulled the second oar. He wondered why he was there in the boat. The fourth man was the captain of the ship that had sunk. He lay in the front of the small boat. His arm and leg were hurt when the ship sank. The captain's face was sad. He had lost his ship and many of his sailors. But he looked carefully ahead, and he told Billie when to turn the boat.
"Keep her a little more south, Billie," he said. "A little more south, sir," the sailor repeated. Sitting in the boat was like sitting on a wild horse. As each wave came, the boat rose and fell, like a horse starting toward a fence too high to jump. The problem was that after successfully floating over one wave you find that there is another one behind it just as strong and ready to flood your boat. As each wall of water came in, it hid everything else that the men could see. The waves came in silence; only their white tops made threatening noises. In the weak light, the faces of the men must have looked gray. Their eyes must have shone in strange ways as they looked out at the sea. The sun rose slowly into the sky. The men knew it was the middle of the day because the color of the sea changed from slate gray to emerald green, with gold lights. And the white foam on the waves looked like falling snow. As the lifeboat bounced from the top of each wave, the wind tore through the hair of the men. As the boat dropped down again the water fell just past them. The top of each wave was a hill, from which the men could see, for a brief period, a wide area of shining sea.
The cook said the men were lucky because the wind was blowing toward the shore. If it started blowing the other way, they would never reach land. The reporter and the sailor agreed. But the captain laughed in a way that expressed humor and tragedy all in one. He asked: "Do you think we've got much of a chance now, boys?" This made the others stop talking. To express any hope at this time they felt to be childish and stupid. But they also did not want to suggest there was no hope. So they were silent. "Oh, well," said the captain, "We'll get ashore all right." But there was something in his voice that made them think, as the sailor said: "Yes, if this wind holds!" Seagulls flew near and far. Sometimes the birds sat down on the sea in groups, near brown seaweed that rolled on the waves. The anger of the sea was no more to them than it was to a group of chickens a thousand miles away on land. Often the seagulls came very close and stared at the men with black bead-like eyes. The men shouted angrily at them, telling them to be gone. The sailor and the reporter kept rowing with the thin wooden oars. Sometimes they sat together, each using an oar. Sometimes one would pull on both oars while the other rested. Brown pieces of seaweed appeared from time to time. They were like islands, bits of earth that did not move. They showed the men in the boat that it was slowly making progress toward land.
Hours passed. Then, as the boat was carried to the top of a great wave, the captain looked across the water. He said that he saw the lighthouse at Mosquito Inlet. The cook also said he saw it. The reporter searched the western sky. "See it?" said the captain. "No," said the reporter slowly, "I don't see anything." "Look again," said the captain. He pointed. "It's exactly in that direction." This time the reporter saw a small thing on the edge of the moving horizon. It was exactly like the point of a pin. "Think we'll make it, captain?" he asked. "If this wind holds and the boat doesn't flood, we can't do much else," said the captain. It would be difficult to describe the brotherhood of men that was here established on the sea. Each man felt it warmed him. They were a captain, a sailor, a cook and a reporter. And they were friends. The reporter knew even at the time that this friendship was the best experience of his life. All obeyed the captain. He was a good leader. He always spoke in a low voice and calmly. "I wish we had a sail," he said, "to give you two boys a chance to rest." So they used his coat and one of the oars to make a sail and the boat moved much more quickly.
The lighthouse had been slowly growing larger. At last, from the top of each wave the men in the boat could see land. Slowly, the land seemed to rise from the sea. Soon, the men could see two lines, one black and one white. They knew that the black line was formed by trees, and the white line was the sand. At last, the captain saw a house on the shore. And the lighthouse became even larger. "The keeper of the lighthouse should be able to see us now," said the captain. "He'll notify the life-saving people." Slowly and beautifully, the land rose from the sea. The wind came again. Finally, the men heard a new sound – the sound of waves breaking and crashing on the shore. "We'll never be able to make the lighthouse now," said the captain. "Swing her head a little more north, Billie." "A little more north, sir," said the sailor. The men watched the shore grow larger. They became hopeful. In an hour, perhaps, they would be on land. The men struggled to keep the boat from turning over. They were used to balancing in the boat. Now they rode this wild horse of a boat like circus men. The water poured over them. The reporter thought he was now wet to the skin. But he felt in the top pocket of his coat and found eight cigars. Four were wet, but four were still dry. One of the men found some dry matches. Each man lit a cigar. The four men sailed in their boat with the belief of a rescue shining in their eyes. They smoked their big cigars and took a drink of water.
重点解析
1.look at 看着；注视
Can I have a look at that?
我能不能看一眼那个？
2.no longer 不再；再也
She no longer feared that they should misunderstand her.
她不再害怕他们会误解她了。
3.at last 最后；最终
The case came to an end at last.
这案子终于完结了。
4.struggle to 斗争；抗争
People struggle to get the best piece of land.
人们竞相争夺最好的土地。
参考译文
我们今天要讲述的故事叫做“一叶扁舟”，作者斯蒂芬·克莱恩。该故事根据他在1896年的真实遭遇所写。克莱恩作为一名报社记者从美国前往古巴。一天晚上，他的船撞上了沙洲。船沉没在大西洋，佛罗里达海岸。船上的大多数人都上了救生艇，克莱恩在最后离开的那批人之中。他身边还有三个人：船长、厨师和一名水手。这四个人爬上了仅存的救生艇，那条船太小了，没人相信它能在水上漂浮很长时间。四个人都没想到它能到达岸边，但是他们拼尽全力勇敢地与大海战斗，最终能否到达陆地吗？下面由夏普·奥尼尔讲述故事的第一部分。小救生艇在大西洋波涛汹涌的海面上颠簸着，船上的四个人看不见天空，浪涨得太高了。
浪头洁白，狂暴地冲着敞着的小船。每个人都认为，每个浪都是最后一个浪。当然，船会沉下去，他们会淹死。这些人认为大多数成年人需要一个比他们航行的船大的浴缸。海浪很大，每一个海浪都给船的方向带来问题。自从那艘大船沉没以来，这四个人已经挣扎了两天，要到达陆地了。但还没看到陆地，所有的人看见的都是汹涌的波浪，猛烈地冲击着他们。这几个人坐在船上，想知道他们是否还有希望。船上的厨师坐在船底，他一直看着把他和大海隔开的那十五厘米距离。这艘船只有两个木桨，它们太薄了，好像要被波浪冲破。水手名叫比利，他用一只桨指挥着船的移动。报社记者划动第二只桨，他想知道自己为什么在船上。第四个人是沉船的船长。他躺在小船的前面，船沉没时，他的胳膊和腿受伤了。船长一脸悲伤，他失去了他的船和许多水手。但他仔细地看了看前面，告诉比利何时把船转向。
“让船再往南一点，比利，”他说。“再往南一点，长官，”水手重复道。坐在船上就像坐在一匹野马上，每个浪头打来，小船就起起落落，像一匹马朝着高得跳不动的篱笆跑去。问题是，成功地漂浮在一个波浪上之后，你会发现在它的后面还有另一个波浪也同样强劲，随时准备淹没小船。当每一堵水墙进来时，它隐藏了人们能看到的一切。海浪无声地来了；只有白色的浪尖发出可怕的声音。在微弱的光线下，这些人的脸一定是灰白色的。当他们望向大海时，眼睛一定以奇怪的方式发着光。太阳慢慢升上天空，男人们知道这是中午，因为海水的颜色从石板灰变成了翡翠绿，带着金色的灯光。海浪上的白色泡沫，看起来像是在下雪。当救生艇从每一浪的顶部弹起时，风撕破了人们的头发。当船又往下沉时，水刚好从他们身边流过。每一个浪头的顶端都是一座小山，人们从那能看到一片波光粼粼的大海。
厨师说这些人很幸运，因为风正吹向岸边。如果它开始吹向另一个方向，他们就永远无法到达陆地。记者和水手表示同意，但船长的笑声却把幽默和悲剧融为一体。他问：“孩子们，你们觉得我们现在有机会吗？”这使其他人停止了交谈，他们觉得在这个时候表达任何希望，都显得幼稚而愚蠢。但他们也不想暗示没有希望，所以他们都沉默了。“哦，好吧，”船长说，“我们会上岸的。”但他的声音中有一种东西让他们思考，就像水手说的：“是的，如果风还继续的话！”海鸥飞来飞去。有时，鸟儿成群结队地坐在海面上，靠近波浪上翻滚的棕色海藻。愤怒的大海对他们来说，不比对千里之外陆地上一群小鸡的愤怒更重要。海鸥常常靠得很近，用黑珠子般的眼睛盯着这几个人。这些人愤怒地对它们喊叫，叫它们走开。水手和记者继续用薄木桨划着船。有时，他们坐在一起，每人用桨。有时一个人划桨，另一个人休息。褐色的海藻不时地出现，它们就像一个个岛屿，一点点地不动。他们向船上的人表明，船正在慢慢地向陆地前进。
几个小时过去了。然后，当船被带到巨浪的顶部时，船长望向了水面。他说他看到了蚊子湾的灯塔，厨师说他也看到了。记者在西边的天空查看了一下。“看到了吗？”船长说。“不，”记者慢慢地说，“我什么也没看见。”“再看看，”船长说。他指了指，“就在那个方向。”这一次，记者在移动的地平线上看到一个小东西，就像一根大头针。“上尉，我们能行吗？”他问。船长说：“如果风不停，船不进水，我们就不能再干别的事了。”。很难描述人们在海上建立起来的兄弟情谊，每个人都感觉到大海温暖了他。他们是船长、水手、厨师和记者，他们是朋友。记者当时就知道，这种友谊是他一生中最美好的经历。所有人都服从船长的命令，他是个好领导，说话总是声音低沉而平静。“我希望我们有一个帆，”他说，“给你们两个男孩一个休息的机会。”于是，他们用他的外套和一个桨做了一个帆，船移动得更快了。
灯塔慢慢变大了，最后，船上的人从每一个浪尖都能看到陆地。慢慢地，陆地似乎从海上升起。很快，男人们看到了两条线，一条黑一条白。他们知道，黑线是由树木形成的，白线是沙子。最后，船长看到了岸上的一所房子。灯塔变得更大了。“灯塔的守门人现在应该能看见我们了，”船长说，“他会通知那些救生的人。”陆地从海上缓缓而美丽地升起，风又来了。最后，人们听到了一种新的声音——海浪拍打海岸的声音。“我们现在永远无法到达灯塔了，”船长说，“把船头再往北一点，比利。”“再往北一点，先生，”水手说。人们看着海岸变得越来越大，他们充满希望。也许一个小时后，他们就会到达陆地。这些人竭力防止船翻过来。他们习惯于在船上保持平衡。现在，他们像马戏团的人一样骑着这匹野马，水倾倒在他们身上。记者以为，他现在浑身湿透了。但是，他摸了摸上衣的上口袋，发现了八支雪茄。其中有四根是湿的，但还有四根是干的。其中一个人找到了一些干火柴，每个人都点了一支雪茄。这四个人乘船航行，眼中闪烁着营救的信念，他们抽了根大雪茄，喝了点水。
