Chapter 21
THE EXPEDITION
It was a cheerless morning when they got into the street; blowing and raining hard; and the clouds looking dull and stormy. The night had been very wet: large pools of water had collected in the road: and the kennels were overflowing. There was a faint glimmering of the coming day in the sky; but it rather aggravated than relieved the gloom of the scene: the sombre light only serving to pale that which the street lamps afforded, without shedding any warmer or brighter tints upon the wet house-tops, and dreary streets. There appeared to be nobody stirring in that quarter of the town; the windows of the houses were all closely shut; and the streets through which they passed, were noiseless and empty.
By the time they had turned into the Bethnal Green Road, the day had fairly begun to break. Many of the lamps were already extinguished; a few country waggons were slowly toiling on, towards London; now and then, a stage-coach, covered with mud, rattled briskly by: the driver bestowing, as he passed, and admonitory lash upon the heavy waggoner who, by keeping on the wrong side of the road, had endangered his arriving at the office, a quarter of a minute after his time. The public-houses, with gas-lights burning inside, were already open. By degrees, other shops began to be unclosed, and a few scattered people were met with. Then, came straggling groups of labourers going to their work; then, men and women with fish-baskets on their heads; donkey-carts laden with vegetables; chaise-carts filled with live-stock or whole carcasses of meat; milk-women with pails; an unbroken concourse of people, trudging out with various supplies to the eastern suburbs of the town. As they approached the City, the noise and traffic gradually increased; when they threaded the streets between Shoreditch and Smithfield, it had swelled into a roar of sound and bustle. It was as light as it was likely to be, till night came on again, and the busy morning of half the London population had begun.
Turning down Sun Street and Crown Street, and crossing Finsbury square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chiswell Street, into Barbican: thence into Long Lane, and so into Smithfield; from which latter place arose a tumult of discordant sounds that filled Oliver Twist with amazement.
It was market-morning. The ground was covered, nearly ankle-deep, with filth and mire; a thick steam, perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary pens as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep; tied up to posts by the gutter side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a mass; the whistling of drovers, the barking dogs, the bellowing and plunging of the oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides; the ringing of bells and roar of voices, that issued from every public-house; the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping and yelling; the hideous and discordant dim that resounded from every corner of the market; and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng; rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite confounded the senses.
Mr. Sikes, dragging Oliver after him, elbowed his way through the thickest of the crowd, and bestowed very little attention on the numerous sights and sounds, which so astonished the boy. He nodded, twice or thrice, to a passing friend; and, resisting as many invitations to take a morning dram, pressed steadily onward, until they were clear of the turmoil, and had made their way through Hosier Lane into Holborn.
'Now, young 'un!' said Sikes, looking up at the clock of St. Andrew's Church, 'hard upon seven! you must step out. Come, don't lag behind already, Lazy-legs!'
Mr. Sikes accompanied this speech with a jerk at his little companion's wrist; Oliver, quickening his pace into a kind of trot between a fast walk and a run, kept up with the rapid strides of the house-breaker as well as he could.
They held their course at this rate, until they had passed Hyde Park corner, and were on their way to Kensington: when Sikes relaxed his pace, until an empty cart which was at some little distance behind, came up. Seeing 'Hounslow' written on it, he asked the driver with as much civility as he could assume, if he would give them a lift as far as Isleworth.
'Jump up,' said the man. 'Is that your boy?'
'Yes; he's my boy,' replied Sikes, looking hard at Oliver, and putting his hand abstractedly into the pocket where the pistol was.
'Your father walks rather too quick for you, don't he, my man?' inquired the driver: seeing that Oliver was out of breath.
'Not a bit of it,' replied Sikes, interposing. 'He's used to it.
Here, take hold of my hand, Ned. In with you!'
Thus addressing Oliver, he helped him into the cart; and the driver, pointing to a heap of sacks, told him to lie down there, and rest himself.
As they passed the different mile-stones, Oliver wondered, more and more, where his companion meant to take him. Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Kew Bridge, Brentford, were all passed; and yet they went on as steadily as if they had only just begun their journey. At length, they came to a public-house called the Coach and Horses; a little way beyond which, another road appeared to run off. And here, the cart stopped.
Sikes dismounted with great precipitation, holding Oliver by the hand all the while; and lifting him down directly, bestowed a furious look upon him, and rapped the side-pocket with his fist, in a significant manner.
'Good-bye, boy,' said the man.
'He's sulky,' replied Sikes, giving him a shake; 'he's sulky. A young dog! Don't mind him.'
'Not I!' rejoined the other, getting into his cart. 'It's a fine day, after all.' And he drove away.
Sikes waited until he had fairly gone; and then, telling Oliver he might look about him if he wanted, once again led him onward on his journey.
They turned round to the left, a short way past the public-house; and then, taking a right-hand road, walked on for a long time: passing many large gardens and gentlemen's houses on both sides of the way, and stopping for nothing but a little beer, until they reached a town. Here against the wall of a house, Oliver saw written up in pretty large letters, 'Hampton.' They lingered about, in the fields, for some hours. At length they came back into the town; and, turning into an old public-house with a defaced sign-board, ordered some dinner by the kitchen fire.
The kitchen was an old, low-roofed room; with a great beam across the middle of the ceiling, and benches, with high backs to them, by the fire; on which were seated several rough men in smock-frocks, drinking and smoking. They took no notice of Oliver; and very little of Sikes; and, as Sikes took very little notice of them, he and his young comrade sat in a corner by themselves, without being much troubled by their company.
They had some cold meat for dinner, and sat so long after it, while Mr. Sikes indulged himself with three or four pipes, that Oliver began to feel quite certain they were not going any further. Being much tired with the walk, and getting up so early, he dozed a little at first; then, quite overpowered by fatigue and the fumes of the tobacco, fell asleep.
It was quite dark when he was awakened by a push from Sikes. Rousing himself sufficiently to sit up and look about him, he found that worthy in close fellowship and communication with a labouring man, over a pint of ale.
'So, you're going on to Lower Halliford, are you?' inquired Sikes.
'Yes, I am,' replied the man, who seemed a little the worse--or better, as the case might be--for drinking; 'and not slow about it neither. My horse hasn't got a load behind him going back, as he had coming up in the mornin'; and he won't be long a-doing of it. Here's luck to him. Ecod! he's a good 'un!'
'Could you give my boy and me a lift as far as there?' demanded Sikes, pushing the ale towards his new friend.
'If you're going directly, I can,' replied the man, looking out of the pot. 'Are you going to Halliford?'
'Going on to Shepperton,' replied Sikes.
'I'm your man, as far as I go,' replied the other. 'Is all paid, Becky?'
'Yes, the other gentleman's paid,' replied the girl.
'I say!' said the man, with tipsy gravity; 'that won't do, you know.'
'Why not?' rejoined Sikes. 'You're a-going to accommodate us, and wot's to prevent my standing treat for a pint or so, in return?'
The stranger reflected upon this argument, with a very profound face; having done so, he seized Sikes by the hand: and declared he was a real good fellow. To which Mr. Sikes replied, he was joking; as, if he had been sober, there would have been strong reason to suppose he was.
After the exchange of a few more compliments, they bade the company good-night, and went out; the girl gathering up the pots and glasses as they did so, and lounging out to the door, with her hands full, to see the party start.
The horse, whose health had been drunk in his absence, was standing outside: ready harnessed to the cart. Oliver and Sikes got in without any further ceremony; and the man to whom he belonged, having lingered for a minute or two 'to bear him up,' and to defy the hostler and the world to produce his equal, mounted also. Then, the hostler was told to give the horse his head; and, his head being given him, he made a very unpleasant use of it: tossing it into the air with great disdain, and running into the parlour windows over the way; after performing those feats, and supporting himself for a short time on his hind-legs, he started off at great speed, and rattled out of the town right gallantly.
The night was very dark. A damp mist rose from the river, and the marshy ground about; and spread itself over the dreary fields. It was piercing cold, too; all was gloomy and black. Not a word was spoken; for the driver had grown sleepy; and Sikes was in no mood to lead him into conversation. Oliver sat huddled together, in a corner of the cart; bewildered with alarm and apprehension; and figuring strange objects in the gaunt trees, whose branches waved grimly to and fro, as if in some fantastic joy at the desolation of the scene.
As they passed Sunbury Church, the clock struck seven. There was a light in the ferry-house window opposite: which streamed across the road, and threw into more sombre shadow a dark yew-tree with graves beneath it. There was a dull sound of falling water not far off; and the leaves of the old tree stirred gently in the night wind. It seemed like quiet music for the repose of the dead.
Sunbury was passed through, and they came again into the lonely road. Two or three miles more, and the cart stopped. Sikes alighted, took Oliver by the hand, and they once again walked on.
They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the weary boy had expected; but still kept walking on, in mud and darkness, through gloomy lanes and over cold open wastes, until they came within sight of the lights of a town at no great distance. On looking intently forward, Oliver saw that the water was just below them, and that they were coming to the foot of a bridge.
Sikes kept straight on, until they were close upon the bridge; then turned suddenly down a bank upon the left.
'The water!' thought Oliver, turning sick with fear. 'He has brought me to this lonely place to murder me!'
He was about to throw himself on the ground, and make one struggle for his young life, when he saw that they stood before a solitary house: all ruinous and decayed. There was a window on each side of the dilapidated entrance; and one story above; but no light was visible. The house was dark, dismantled: and the all appearance, uninhabited.
Sikes, with Oliver's hand still in his, softly approached the low porch, and raised the latch. The door yielded to the pressure, and they passed in together.
他们来到街上。这是一个令人扫兴的早晨，风疾雨猛，漫天阴云，像是要来一场暴风雨。夜里雨下得很猛，路上积起了无数的大水洼，水沟也都满了。天空透出一道隐隐可见的微光，预示着新的一天即将来临，而这一道亮光非但没有减轻反倒加重了景物的幽暗，使街灯射出的光芒变得一片苍白，没有在湿漉漉的屋顶和凄凉的街道上洒下一丝温暖、明亮的色彩。这一带街区似乎还没有人起床，房屋的窗户全都关得紧紧的，他们经过的街道也是一片沉寂，空无一人。
直到他们拐进贝丝勒尔草地大道，天色才总算亮起来了。灯光大多已经熄灭，几辆乡间的大车朝伦敦缓缓驶去，时而有一辆糊满泥污的公共马车咔哒咔哒地飞驰而过，车把式在赶到前边去的时候，总要惩戒性地照着呆头呆脑的大车老板来一鞭子，他们占错了车道，很可能会害得他比规定时间迟十几秒钟到站。点着煤气灯的酒馆已经开堂，别的商号也一家接一家开始营业，路上有了零零星星的行人。接着，络绎不绝地涌来了一群群上班的工人，头上顶着鱼筐的男男女女，装有各种蔬菜的驴车，满载活畜或是宰好的全猪全羊的双轮马车，手提牛奶桶的妇人――一股源源不断的人流携带着各种食品，艰难地向东郊移动着。到了商业中心区附近，喧闹声与车辆行人的往来更是有增无已。当赛克斯拉着奥立弗挤过肖狄奇区和伦敦肉市场之间的街道时，这种车水马龙的景象终于汇成一片喧嚣与奔忙。天已经完全亮了，同往日没什么两样，大概一直要持续到黑夜重新来临。伦敦城一半的市民迎来了他们繁忙的早晨。
赛克斯先生带着奥立弗拐进太阳街，克朗街，穿过芬斯伯雷广场，沿着契士韦尔路急步闪人望楼街，又溜进长巷否证科学理论系统的任何一个部分，主张用“有用”，“有，来到伦敦肉市场，这个地方传出一片纷乱的喧闹，使奥立弗退斯特大为惊讶。
这天早晨正逢赶集。地面覆盖着几乎漫过脚踝的污泥浊水，浓浊的水气不断地从刚刚宰杀的牲畜身上腾起，与仿佛是驻留在烟囱顶上的雾混合起来，沉甸甸地垂挂在市场上空。在这一大片平地的中心，所有的畜栏，连同许许多多还可以往这片空地里挤一挤的临时棚圈，都关满了羊，水沟边的木桩上拴着三四排菜牛和枯牛。乡下人、屠户、家畜经纪人、沿街叫买的小贩、顽童小偷、看热闹的，以及各个社会底层中的流氓无赖，密密麻麻挤成一团。家畜经纪人打着日哨，狗狂吠乱叫，公牛边蹬蹄子边吼，羊咩咩地叫，猪嗯叽嗯叽地哼哼；小贩的叫卖声、四面八方的呼喊、咒骂、争吵；一家家酒馆里钟鸣铃响，人声喧哗；拥挤推拉，追的追，打的打，叫好的，吆喝的；市场的每一个角落都响荡着这种震耳欲聋的噪音。一些蓬头垢面、衣衫褴楼的角色，在人群中不断跑进跑出，时隐时现，这一切构成了一副令人头晕目眩，手足无措的纷扰场面。
赛克斯先生拖着奥立弗往前走，他用胳膊肘从密集的人群中拨开一条路，对那些弄得奥立弗大为惊异的场面和声音毫不在意。他有两三次跟偶然相遇的朋友点点头，对于来一番清晨小饮的多次邀请通通予以拒绝，管自头也不回地向前走着，直到他们摆脱这个旋涡，两人穿过袜子巷，朝霍尔本山走去。
“喂，小家伙，”赛克斯抬眼看了看圣安德鲁教堂的大钟，说道，“快七点了。你得走快点。走啊体”乃是与上帝相联系的个人时，才能摆脱空虚孤独之感，消，别再落在后头啦，懒虫。”
说着，赛克斯先生在小伙伴的手腕上狠命扭了一把，奥立弗加快步伐，变成一种介乎于快走与飞奔之间的小跑，尽力跟上这个大步流星的强盗。
他们一路上保持着这种速度，转过海德公园拐角，向肯辛顿走去，这时赛克斯放慢了脚步，等着后边不远处一辆没拉货的马车赶上来。赛克斯见车上写着“杭斯洛”字样，便尽量装出客客气气的样子，问车把式可不可以帮忙捎个脚，带他们到艾尔沃斯。
“上来吧，”车把式说道，“这是你儿子？”
“是啊，是我儿子。”赛克斯说话时眼睛盯着奥立弗，一只手下意识地插进放有手枪的衣袋里。
“你爸爸走得太快了一点，是不是啊，小伙子？”车把式见奥立弗累得上气不接下气，开口问道。
“没有的事，”赛克斯插话说，“他习惯了。来，勒德，抓住我的手，上去吧＿”
赛克斯嘴里这样说，扶着奥立弗上了马车，车把式指了指一堆麻袋，要他在那儿躺下来，歇一会儿。
马车驶过一块又一块路牌，奥立弗越来越感到纳闷，不知道同伴到底要把自己带到什么地方去。肯辛顿、海姆士密斯、契息克、植物园桥、布伦福德都丢到后边去了，马车依然载着他们不紧不慢地往前开，就好像刚刚开始这趟旅行一样。最后，他们到了一家叫做“车马”的小酒馆前边，再走一程就要拐上另一条大路了。马车停了下来。
赛克斯莽里莽撞地跳下马车，依旧抓住奥立弗的手不放，随即又将他抱起来放到地上，同时投过去一道狠巴巴的眼色，意味深长地用拳头在侧边衣袋上嘭嘭地拍了两下。
“再会，孩子。”车把式说。
“他在闹别扭，”赛克斯摇了摇奥立弗，答道，“闹别扭了。这狗崽子。你别见怪。”
“我才不哩。”那人一边说，一边爬上马车。“一句话，天气可真不赖。”他赶着车走了。
赛克斯眼看着马车走远了，这才告诉奥立弗，他可以前后左右看看，如果他有这份兴致的话，说罢又领着他上路了。
过酒店不远，他们向左拐了个弯，又折上右边一条路，他们走了很长时间，把道路两侧的许多大花园和豪华住宅甩到身后，只间或停下来喝一点啤酒，一径来到一座小镇。奥立弗看见，有一所房子的墙上写着“汉普敦”几个相当醒目的大字。他们到野外游荡了几个小时，末了又回到镇子里，进了一家客栈兼营餐饮的老店，店门口挂着的招牌已无法辨认，叫厨房炒了几样菜，就在炉灶旁边吃。
厨房是一间顶棚低矮的旧屋子，一根巨大的房梁从天花板正中横穿而过，炉子旁边放着几张高青长凳，几个身穿长罩衫的鲁莽汉子正坐在那里喝酒抽烟。他们略略打量了一下赛克斯，简直就没把奥立弗看在眼见赛克斯没大理会他们，他和小伙伴在一个角落里坐下来，并没有因有人在场而感到不便。
他们吃了些冷向当晚饭，饭后又坐了很久，赛克斯先生自得其乐，吸了四管烟斗，奥立弗认定他们再也不会赶路了。起了一个大早，又走了那么远路，他真累坏了，开始他只是在打盹，随后就被疲劳和烟草的香味所制服，不知不觉睡着了。
当赛克斯一把将他推醒的时候，天已经黑尽了。他赶走睡意，坐起来，看了看四周，发现这位知名人士和一个庄稼汉模样的人正在喝一品脱啤酒，谈得正投机。
“那么说，你这就要去下哈利佛德，是不是？”赛克斯问。
“是啊，这就去，”那人好像已经带上了一点醉意，但也可能因此更来劲了。“再说也慢不到哪儿去。我的马回去是拉空车，不像早晨出来拉得那样重，老这么着可不行啊。祝它走运。哦喀。真是头好牲口。”
“你能不能把我和这孩子顺路捎到那儿去？”赛克斯一边问，一边把啤酒推到新朋友面前。
“你要是马上就走，我包了，”那人从啤酒缸后面望着他，答道。“你是要去哈利佛德？”
“去西普顿。”赛克斯回答。
“你尽管吩咐，我也走这一路，”另一位答道，“蓓姬，算账？”
“账都算过了，是那位先生会的钞。”女仆应声说道。
“我说，”那汉子带着酒后的庄重说，“这可不行。”
“干吗不行？”赛克斯答道，“你帮了我们的忙，就不兴我请你喝一品脱啤酒什么的，表示个心意？”
陌生人摆出一副老成持重的神色，将这句话推敲了一下，然后，他一把抓住赛克斯的手，说他真够朋友。赛克斯先生回答说对方是在开玩笑，因为，除非是他喝醉了，他有的是理由去证明自己是在说笑话。
两人又客套了几句，跟别的客人道过晚安，便走了出去。女仆借这功夫把杯盘碗盏收拢来，双手捧得满满的，走到门日，目送他们离去。
主人背地里已经为它的健康祝过酒的那匹马就在门外，马具也都套好了。奥立弗和赛克斯不再客气，管自上了马车。马的主人溜达了一两分钟，说是“替它打打气”，同时也向旅店的那个骡马夫和全世界示威，量他们也找不出同样的马，这才上了车。接着，骡马夫奉命放松马疆。僵绳松开了，那匹马却把缰绳派上了一种非常令人讨厌的用场：大大咧咧地把缰绳甩到空中，直飞进马路对过的会客室窗户。等这一揽子绝技表演完毕，马又前蹄腾空，来了个瞬间直立，然后飞一般地跑起来，马车咔哒咔哒地响着，神气活现地出了城。
这一夜黑得出奇，湿漉漉的雾气从河上、从周围的沼泽地里升起来，在沉寂的原野上铺展开去。寒意料峭，一切都显得阴森而幽暗。路途中谁也不说一句话，车把式不停地打瞌睡，赛克斯也没有心思引他搭话。奥立弗在大车角落里缩成一团，心中充满恐惧和疑虑，揣摸着枯树丛中一定有好些怪物，那些树枝恶狠狠地摇来摇去，像是面对这副凄凉的场面有着说不出的高兴似的。
当他们走过桑伯雷教堂时，钟正好敲七点。对面渡口窗户里亮着一盏灯，灯光越过大路，将一棵黑黝黝的杉树连同树下的一座座坟墓投入更昏暗的阴影之中。不远的地方传来刻板的流水声，老树的叶片在晚风中微微颤动，这幅景色真像是了却尘缘时那种无声的乐章。
桑伯雷过去了，他们重新驶上荒凉的大路。又走了两三英里，马车停住了。两个人跳下车来。赛克斯抓住奥立弗的手，又一次徒步朝前走去。
他们在西普顿没有逗留，这有点出乎疲惫不堪的奥立弗的猜测，而是趁着夜色，趟过泥浆，继续往前走，插进黑沉沉的小路，越过寒冷广袤的荒野，一直走到能够看见前边不远处一座市镇的点点灯火。奥立弗探头仔细看了看，发现下边就是河，他们正朝桥墩走过去。
赛克斯头也不回地走着，眼看就要到桥边了，突然又转向左边，朝河岸走下去。
“那边是河。”一个念头从奥立弗脑子里闪过，吓得他头都大了。“他带我到这个没有人的地方，是想杀死我。”
他正准备躺倒在地，为保住自己的生命作一番挣扎，却发现他俩的面前是一所孤零零的房子。这房子东倒西歪，一片破败。大门摇摇欲坠，两边各有一扇窗户，上面还有一层楼，可是一点亮光也看不见。房于里边一片漆黑，空空如也，怎么看也找不出有人居住的痕迹。
赛克斯依然紧抓着奥立弗的手，轻轻走近低矮的门廊，把插销提起来。门推开了，他们一起走了进去。