英文原版

“That noise. That stomping throb. Pounding feet. Listen!”
Arthur listened. The noise echoed round the corridor at them from an indeterminate distance. It was the muffled sound of pounding footsteps, and it was noticeably louder.
“Let’s move,” said Ford sharply. They both moved – in opposite directions.
“Not that way,” said Ford, “that’s where they’re coming from.”
“No it’s not,” said Arthur, “They’re coming from that way.”
“They’re not, they’re…”
They both stopped. They both turned. They both listened intently. They both agreed with each other. They both set off into opposite directions again.
Fear gripped them.
From both directions the noise was getting louder.
A few yards to their left another corridor ran at right angles to the inner wall. They ran to it and hurried along it. It was dark, immensely long and, as they passed down it, gave them the impression that it was getting colder and colder. Other corridors gave off it to the left and right, each very dark and each subjecting them to sharp blasts of icy air as they passed.
They stopped for a moment in alarm. The further down the corridor they went, the louder became the sound of pounding feet.
They pressed themselves back against the cold wall and listened furiously. The cold, the dark and the drumming of disembodied feet was getting to them badly. Ford shivered, partly with the cold, but partly with the memory of stories his favourite mother used to tell him when he was a mere slip of a Betelgeusian, ankle high to an Arcturan Megagrasshopper: stories of dead ships, haunted hulks that roamed restlessly round the obscurer regions of deep space infested with demons or the ghosts of forgotten crews; stories too of incautious travellers who found and entered such ships; stories of… – then Ford remembered the brown hessian wall weave in the first corridor and pulled himself together. However ghosts and demons may choose to decorate their death hulks, he thought to himself, he would lay any money you liked it wasn’t with hessian wall weave. He grasped Arthur by the arm.
“Back the way we came,” he said firmly and they started to retrace their steps.
“就是那个声音，那个砰砰乱蹦的声音，是在跺脚。听！”
阿瑟尖起耳朵听。那声音从一个不太确定的距离传来，回荡在整个走廊里。那是一种被压低了的跺脚走步声，并且越来越响。
“咱们走：”福特断然说。他们同时迈出步子—但却朝着相反的方向。
“不是那边，”福特说，“那边是他们来的方向。”
“不，不是的，”阿瑟说，“他们是从你那边来的。”
“不是，他们－－”
两人都停了下来，两人都转过身，两人都专心地听，两人都同意对方的意见，两人再次朝着相反的方向出发。
恐惧牢牢地抓住了他们俩。
从两个方向，那声音都越来越响。
他们左手边几码以外的地方，另一条走廊和内墙呈直角方向延伸开去。他们跑进去，顺着它匆匆前进。这条走廊很暗，非常长。随着他们的深入，给他们的感觉是变得越来越冷。另一些走廊从它的左边和右边岔开，每一条都很暗，他们经过时，只觉得从里面袭来一阵阵刺骨的寒气。
他们停了一会儿，凝神细听。他们进人这条走廊越深，脚步声就变得越响。
他们靠在冰冷的墙上，专注地倾听着。寒冷、黑暗，加上这种不断敲击的空洞的脚步声，让他们感到非常难受。福特在颤抖，部分是因为冷，还有一部分是因为他想起了亲爱的妈妈曾经讲给他听的那些故事。那时，他还只是参宿四上的一个小屁孩儿，站起来只有大角星微型侦察机那么高。那些故事讲的是死船和神出鬼没的幽灵船，它们永不停止地飘荡在外太空的幽暗区域，上面出没着邪恶的魔鬼和被遗忘了的船员的鬼魂。还有关于那些莽撞的旅行者的故事。他们发现了这样的飞船，进去了：还有其他故事——但就在这时，福特想起了第一条走廊上的褐色粗麻布墙纸，这才振作起来，就算鬼魂和魔鬼有兴致装饰自己的死船，他想，也绝不可能用这种褐色粗麻布墙纸。他敢打这个赌，赌多少钱都愿意。他一把抓住阿瑟的胳膊。
“咱们退回去。”他坚定地说，于是他们开始沿着原来的路线返回。

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