English
Myfather’sfamilynamebeingPirrip,andmyChristiannamePhilip,myinfanttonguecouldmakeofbothnamesnothinglongerormoreexplicitthanPip.
So,IcalledmyselfPip,andcametobecalledPip.
IgivePirripasmyfather’sfamilyname,ontheauthorityofhistombstoneandmysister—Mrs.JoeGargery,whomarriedtheblacksmith.
AsIneversawmyfatherormymother,andneversawanylikenessofeitherofthem(fortheirdayswerelongbeforethedaysofphotographs),myfirstfanciesregardingwhattheywerelike,wereunreasonablyderivedfromtheirtombstones.
Theshapeofthelettersonmyfather’s,gavemeanoddideathathewasasquare,stout,darkman,withcurlyblackhair.
Fromthecharacterandturnoftheinscription,“AlsoGeorgianaWifeoftheAbove,”Idrewachildishconclusionthatmymotherwasfreckledandsickly.
Tofivelittlestonelozenges,eachaboutafootandahalflong,whichwerearrangedinaneatrowbesidetheirgrave,andweresacredtothememoryoffivelittlebrothersofmine—whogaveuptryingtogetaliving,exceedinglyearlyinthatuniversalstruggle—IamindebtedforabeliefIreligiouslyentertainedthattheyhadallbeenbornontheirbackswiththeirhandsintheirtrousers—pockets,andhadnevertakenthemoutinthisstateofexistence.
Ourswasthemarshcountry,downbytheriver,within,astheriverwound,twentymilesofthesea.
Myfirstmostvividandbroadimpressionoftheidentityofthings,seemstometohavebeengainedonamemorablerawafternoontowardsevening.
AtsuchatimeIfoundoutforcertain,thatthisbleakplaceovergrownwithnettleswasthechurchyard;andthatPhilipPirrip,lateofthisparish,andalsoGeorgianawifeoftheabove,weredeadandburied;andthatAlexander,Bartholomew,Abraham,Tobias,andRoger,infantchildrenoftheaforesaid,werealsodeadandburied;andthatthedarkflatwildernessbeyondthechurchyard,intersectedwithdykesandmoundsandgates,withscatteredcattlefeedingonit,wasthemarshes;andthatthelowleadenlinebeyond,wastheriver;andthatthedistantsavagelairfromwhichthewindwasrushing,wasthesea;andthatthesmallbundleofshiversgrowingafraidofitallandbeginningtocry,wasPip.
“Holdyournoise!”criedaterriblevoice,asamanstartedupfromamongthegravesatthesideofthechurchporch.“Keepstill,youlittledevil,orI’llcutyourthroat!”
Afearfulman,allincoarsegrey,withagreatirononhisleg.
Amanwithnohat,andwithbrokenshoes,andwithanoldragtiedroundhishead.
Amanwhohadbeensoakedinwater,andsmotheredinmud,andlamedbystones,andcutbyflints,andstungbynettles,andtornbybriars;wholimped,andshivered,andglaredandgrowled;andwhoseteethchatteredinhisheadasheseizedmebythechin.
“O!Don’tcutmythroat,sir,”Ipleadedinterror.“Praydon’tdoit,sir.”
“Tellusyourname!”saidtheman.“Quick!”
“Pip,sir.”
“Oncemore,”saidtheman,staringatme.“Giveitmouth!”
“Pip.Pip,sir.”
“Showuswhereyoulive,”saidtheman.“Pintouttheplace!”
Ipointedtowhereourvillagelay,ontheflatin—shoreamongthealder—treesandpollards,amileormorefromthechurch.
Theman,afterlookingatmeforamoment,turnedmeupsidedown,andemptiedmypockets.
Therewasnothinginthembutapieceofbread.
Whenthechurchcametoitself—forhewassosuddenandstrongthathemadeitgoheadoverheelsbeforeme,andIsawthesteepleundermyfeet—whenthechurchcametoitself,Isay,Iwasseatedonahightombstone,trembling,whileheatethebreadravenously.
“Youyoungdog,”saidtheman,lickinghislips,“whatfatcheeksyouha’got.”
Ibelievetheywerefat,thoughIwasatthattimeundersizedformyyears,andnotstrong.
“DarnmeifIcouldn’teatem,”saidtheman,withathreateningshakeofhishead,“andifIhan’thalfamindto’t!”
Iearnestlyexpressedmyhopethathewouldn’t,andheldtightertothetombstoneonwhichhehadputme;partly,tokeepmyselfuponit;partly,tokeepmyselffromcrying.
“Nowlookeehere!”saidtheman.“Where’syourmother?”
“There,sir!”saidI.
Hestarted,madeashortrun,andstoppedandlookedoverhisshoulder.
“There,sir!”Itimidlyexplained.“AlsoGeorgiana.That’smymother.”
“Oh!”saidhe,comingback.“Andisthatyourfatheralongeryourmother?”
“Yes,sir,”saidI;“himtoo;lateofthisparish.”
“Ha!”hemutteredthen,considering.“Whod’yelivewith—supposin’you’rekindlylettolive,whichIhan’tmadeupmymindabout?”
“Mysister,sir—Mrs.JoeGargery—wifeofJoeGargery,theblacksmith,sir.”
“Blacksmith,eh?”saidhe.Andlookeddownathisleg.
Afterdarklylookingathislegandmeseveraltimes,hecameclosertomytombstone,tookmebybotharms,andtiltedmebackasfarashecouldholdme;sothathiseyeslookedmostpowerfullydownintomine,andminelookedmosthelplesslyupintohis.
“Nowlookeehere,”hesaid,“thequestionbeingwhetheryou’retobelettolive.Youknowwhatafileis?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Andyouknowwhatwittlesis?”
“Yes,sir.”
Aftereachquestionhetiltedmeoveralittlemore,soastogivemeagreatersenseofhelplessnessanddanger.
“Yougetmeafile.”Hetiltedmeagain.“Andyougetmewittles.”Hetiltedmeagain.“Youbring‘embothtome.”Hetiltedmeagain.“OrI’llhaveyourheartandliverout.”Hetiltedmeagain.
Iwasdreadfullyfrightened,andsogiddythatIclungtohimwithbothhands,andsaid,“Ifyouwouldkindlypleasetoletmekeepupright,sir,perhapsIshouldn’tbesick,andperhapsIcouldattendmore.”
Hegavemeamosttremendousdipandroll,sothatthechurchjumpedoveritsownweather—cock.
Then,heheldmebythearms,inanuprightpositiononthetopofthestone,andwentoninthesefearfulterms:
“Youbringme,to—morrowmorningearly,thatfileandthemwittles.
Youbringthelottome,atthatoldBatteryoveryonder.
Youdoit,andyouneverdaretosayawordordaretomakeasignconcerningyourhavingseensuchapersonasme,oranypersonsumever,andyoushallbelettolive.
Youfail,oryougofrommywordsinanypartickler,nomatterhowsmallitis,andyourheartandyourlivershallbetoreout,roastedandate.
Now,Iain’talone,asyoumaythinkIam.
There’sayoungmanhidwithme,incomparisonwithwhichyoungmanIamaAngel.ThatyoungmanhearsthewordsIspeak.
Thatyoungmanhasasecretwaypecooliartohimself,ofgettingataboy,andathisheart,andathisliver.
Itisinwainforaboytoattempttohidehimselffromthatyoungman.
Aboymaylockhisdoor,maybewarminbed,maytuckhimselfup,maydrawtheclothesoverhishead,maythinkhimselfcomfortableandsafe,butthatyoungmanwillsoftlycreepandcreephiswaytohimandtearhimopen.
Iama—keepingthatyoungmanfromharmingofyouatthepresentmoment,withgreatdifficulty.
Ifinditweryhardtoholdthatyoungmanoffofyourinside.Now,whatdoyousay?”
IsaidthatIwouldgethimthefile,andIwouldgethimwhatbrokenbitsoffoodIcould,andIwouldcometohimattheBattery,earlyinthemorning.
“SayLordstrikeyoudeadifyoudon’t!”saidtheman.
Isaidso,andhetookmedown.
“Now,”hepursued,“yourememberwhatyou’veundertook,andyourememberthatyoungman,andyougethome!”
“Goo—goodnight,sir,”Ifaltered.
“Muchofthat!”saidhe,glancingabouthimoverthecoldwetflat.“IwishIwasafrog.Oraeel!”
Atthesametime,hehuggedhisshudderingbodyinbothhisarms—claspinghimself,asiftoholdhimselftogether—andlimpedtowardsthelowchurchwall.
AsIsawhimgo,pickinghiswayamongthenettles,andamongthebramblesthatboundthegreenmounds,helookedinmyyoungeyesasifhewereeludingthehandsofthedeadpeople,stretchingupcautiouslyoutoftheirgraves,togetatwistuponhisankleandpullhimin.
Whenhecametothelowchurchwall,hegotoverit,likeamanwhoselegswerenumbedandstiff,andthenturnedroundtolookforme.
WhenIsawhimturning,Isetmyfacetowardshome,andmadethebestuseofmylegs.
ButpresentlyIlookedovermyshoulder,andsawhimgoingonagaintowardstheriver,stillhugginghimselfinbotharms,andpickinghiswaywithhissorefeetamongthegreatstonesdroppedintothemarsheshereandthere,forstepping—placeswhentherainswereheavy,orthetidewasin.
Themarsheswerejustalongblackhorizontallinethen,asIstoppedtolookafterhim;andtheriverwasjustanotherhorizontalline,notnearlysobroadnoryetsoblack;andtheskywasjustarowoflongangryredlinesanddenseblacklinesintermixed.
OntheedgeoftheriverIcouldfaintlymakeouttheonlytwoblackthingsinalltheprospectthatseemedtobestandingupright;oneofthesewasthebeaconbywhichthesailorssteered—likeanunhoopedcaskuponapole—anuglythingwhenyouwerenearit;theotheragibbet,withsomechainshangingtoitwhichhadonceheldapirate.
Themanwaslimpingontowardsthislatter,asifhewerethepiratecometolife,andcomedown,andgoingbacktohookhimselfupagain.
ItgavemeaterribleturnwhenIthoughtso;andasIsawthecattleliftingtheirheadstogazeafterhim,Iwonderedwhethertheythoughtsotoo.
Ilookedallroundforthehorribleyoungman,andcouldseenosignsofhim.
But,nowIwasfrightenedagain,andranhomewithoutstopping.
Share this article to
FINISH