Chapter 46 four six

I did not spend a few days in Tahiti before I met Captain Nichols.One morning I was having breakfast on the terrace of the hotel when he came in and introduced himself.He heard that I was interested in Charles.Strickland was interested, so he offered to come and talk to me about Strickland.The inhabitants of Tahiti are as fond of chatter as the English country folk, and I asked one or two people about Strickland's pictures, and the news soon reached everyone's ears.I asked the strange visitor if he had had breakfast. I've eaten, I've had coffee since I got up, he replied, but I have no objection to a sip of whiskey.

I called the Chinese waiter at the hotel over. Do you think it's a little too early to drink now?said the captain. It's up to you to decide with your own liver.I replied. I'm actually a teetotaler.He said as he poured himself more than half a glass of Canadian Crabbe whiskey. Captain Nichols showed his crooked black teeth when he smiled. He was a thin, dry man of less than medium height, with gray hair cut short and a white beard tangled in disorder.Captain Nichols had not shaved for several days.His face was deeply wrinkled and tanned from years of exposure to the sun.He has a pair of small blue eyes, and his eyes are wandering; following my gestures, his eyes move around quickly, making it obvious that he is an old stick in society.But at this time he was full of enthusiasm and sincerity to me.The khaki suit he was wearing was sloppy, and his hands were long overdue for a good wash.

I knew Strickland well, he said, leaning back in his chair and lighting the cigar I handed him.He came to this place through my connection. Where did you first meet him?I asked. Marseille. what are you doing in marseille He smiled as if trying to please me. Uh, I wasn't on the boat and I was in a bad situation. From the appearance of my friend, he is no better off today than he was then; and I decided to make him my friend.Although there is a small price to pay for getting along with these homeless people in the South Sea Islands, it will never make you suffer.These people are easy to approach and gracious to talk to.They seldom put on airs, as long as they need a glass of water and wine, they will definitely be able to move their hearts.You don't have to walk a hard way to get acquainted with them, you just have to listen to their gossip, and they will not only have a lot of confidence in you, but will also be grateful to you.They regard conversation as the greatest joy of life, and to prove their excellent cultivation.Most of the conversations these guys had were funny.They have a wide range of experience and are good at using their rich imagination.It cannot be said that these people do not have a certain degree of fraud, but as long as the law can be relied on, they are still very tolerant of the law and try to obey it.It is a dangerous business to play with them, but the quickness of their minds adds great excitement to this most amusing game.Before I left Tahiti I had become intimately acquainted with Captain Nichols, and my acquaintance with him only enriched my experience.Although I entertained him with many cigars and whiskey (he never drank a cocktail because he was actually a teetotaler), although he borrowed money from me with a benevolent delicacy, well A few pieces of silver were transferred from my pocket to his, and I still feel that the pleasure he gave me greatly outweighed the price I paid for it.He was my creditor from beginning to end.If I followed the author's conscience, refused to stray from the point, and dismissed Nichols with a few simple lines, I would feel sorry for him.

I do not know why Captain Nichols left England in the first place.It's a subject he's not too shy about; it's not prudent for someone like him to ask such things directly.It can be heard from his words that he has been wronged for no reason.No doubt he sees himself as a victim of a miscarriage of justice.My imagination always likes to connect him with some kind of fraud or outrage.I agree with great sympathy when he speaks of the British authorities being too mechanical in enforcing the law.Happily, his patriotic zeal hasn't been damaged in any way by what he's had in his hometown.He used to tell me that England was the greatest country in the world, and that he felt he was far superior to anyone else, whether it was Americans, Colonists, Dagos, Dutch, or Kanagas. In his eyes.

However, I don't think he's living happily.He suffered from chronic indigestion and often had a pepsin tablet in his mouth.His appetite was poor every morning, but the ailment alone did not damage his spirits.There was a still greater misfortune in his life: eight years before he had married a woman rashly.There are some men whose merciful providence has destined them to be bachelors all their lives, but some of them, out of self-will, and others, because of their inability to cope with circumstances, have disobeyed the will of God.There is nothing more pitiable than such a married bachelor.Captain Nichols was such a man.I have seen his wife; she was not seven or eight, I think, but she is one of those women whose age is never known, who was no younger at twenty than she is now, It doesn't look any older at forty.The impression she gave me was that her skin was tight and her flesh was thin, her unattractive face was tense, her lips were just a thin line, and her whole body was tightly covered with bones.She didn't smile easily, her hair was pulled close to her head, and her clothes were thin, in white twill that looked like a black bonbassine.I can't imagine why Captain Nichols should marry her, or why he didn't get rid of her when he was married.Perhaps he has done this more than once, and his sorrow stems from the fact that he has not succeeded in any of them.However far he ran, however stealthily he hid, Mrs. Nichols, as inescapable as fate, as merciless as conscience, was at his side at once.He can't escape her, just like there must be an effect if there is a cause.

The old man of society is no more of a class than the artist or the gentleman; he is not embarrassed by the rudeness of the vagabond, nor restrained by the formalities of the princes.But Mrs. Nichols belonged to a class of lately gaining renown, what is known as the lower-middle class (for a good name!) class of society.Her father was a policeman, and, I dare say, very capable.I don't know why she clings to the captain, I don't believe it's because of love.I never heard her speak, perhaps a lot when alone with her husband.Anyway, Captain Nichols was terrified of her.Sometimes when he was sitting with me on the hotel terrace, he suddenly realized that his wife was walking on the road outside. She never called him, she didn't seem to know that he was here at all, she just paced up and down the street peacefully.At this moment the captain felt very uneasy; he looked at his watch and sighed.

Alas, I should go.He said. At such times, nothing could hold him back, whether it was jokes or whiskey.You must know that Captain Nichols was a man who would not change his face even through a Category 12 storm. As long as he had a pistol, even if a dozen black men came up, he would have the courage to deal with it.Sometimes Mrs. Nichols also sent their daughter, a pale, drooping seven-year-old, to the hotel. Mom is looking for you.She said with a sobbing sound. Well, well, dear boy.said Captain Nichols. He got up immediately and walked home with his daughter.I think this is an excellent example of the victory of spirit over matter, so although this article of mine is off topic, it still has some teaching significance.