Pulleys and a Tilted Bobber on the Frosty Pier - 適合進階的英文短篇故事，含中譯與發音

Seth watched June lower the bait bucket on a rope that ran over two pulleys. The small wheels turned; the rope changed angle; the bucket rose, water streaming in a steady ribbon through the perforated lid. “Neat little wheels,” June said, and the metal taste of the morning sat on Seth’s tongue, as if the railing’s chill had rubbed off there. Last night’s sleet had left a thin frost along the rail, a pale rind he could have traced with a fingernail, and the boards below showed a darker band where the tide had licked them and receded.

He set the rod’s butt into the notch and closed his hand around the cork. The cork tasted faintly of salt when he licked a wind-dried lip, a briny aftertaste that matched the green-brown water. The line remembered its coil, a lazy series of curls the current slowly ironed straight; the float, painted red and white, rocked with the pier’s slow rhythm and then steadied. Far out, a cormorant dove, and the air carried a metallic tang as if the cold polished everything to the palate. An apprehensive tremor reached his fingers before the surface said anything; the tip gave a thin shiver that died away, and the float tipped, recovered, and sat like a period that hadn’t decided to end a sentence.

A scrape of bucket against plank broke the stillness; the handle had rolled to the verge of the railing. Seth slid the rod into the notch and stepped over. He caught the cold metal handle, lifted it back, and a splash from the lid brushed his chin with clean, salty water. “It’s fine,” June said, already pinching a new piece of bait in damp fingers. A gull’s shadow crossed his shoes and went on. Somewhere beyond the pilings, a short clang sounded and stopped, like a bell that had only one word to say.

When he returned, the frost had softened to wet; the sun had warmed the cork; the float rode lower, as if it had taken in a drop or two. He raised the rod a thumb’s width and the line slid through the guides with a dry whisper; the rings changed the angle, and the float drifted sideways, on the verge of slipping under. He half-lifted, then held still, breath pinched at the back of his throat; the tip bent, straightened, and a slick green thread came up with the weight of a damp leaf. He turned the handle of the reel once, twice, and the eelgrass unspooled off the hook like a ribbon that had lost interest in clinging. Salt lingered at the corner of his mouth as he wiped his lip with the back of his hand, and he set his fingers back on the warm cork grip.

塞斯看著瓊用兩個滑輪吊起誘餌桶。小輪子一轉，繩子的角度一變，裝滿水的桶就輕輕升起，水從打洞的蓋子流成一條穩定的細帶。瓊說：「這小輪子真妙。」清晨在塞斯的舌尖上留下金屬般的味道，彷彿欄杆的冷意也沾了上來。昨夜的霰在欄杆上留下一層薄霜，像一圈蒼白的邊緣，可以用指甲輕輕描出；下方的木板則多了一道較深的潮痕，顯示潮水親吻過又退去。

他把竿尾卡進缺口，手掌握住軟木握把。風把嘴唇吹得乾，他舔了一下，舌尖嚐到淡淡的鹹味，和綠褐色的水面相呼應。釣線還記得線軸的彎曲，懶懶的圈在水面上，隨著水流慢慢被拉直；紅白相間的浮標跟著碼頭的慢節奏搖幾下，又安定下來。遠處有隻鸕鶿潛下去，空氣帶著像金屬拋光過的味道。還沒等水面顯示任何訊息，一絲帶著遲疑的顫動先傳到他的指尖；竿梢輕抖了一下便歸於平，浮標傾了傾，又彈回去，像一句還沒決定要畫上的句點。

一聲桶子磨著木板的刮音打斷了靜度；把手滾到欄杆邊緣。塞斯把魚竿插回缺口，跨一步過去。他抓住冰涼的金屬把手，把桶提回來，蓋子濺起的水沫輕點他的下巴，留下乾淨的鹹味。「沒事。」瓊說，她已經用潮濕的手指捏好新的餌。海鷗的影子掠過他的鞋尖，又飛遠。樁腳外傳來短短一聲鈴響，立刻收住，像只說了一個字。

他回到位置時，薄霜已化成濕痕，陽光把軟木握把烘得暖；浮標下沉得更低一些，彷彿多喝了幾滴水。他把魚竿抬高一個拇指的距離，釣線在導環裡發出乾澀的輕聲；環改了線的角度，浮標便側著滑行，幾乎要沒入水面。他剛要提竿，又定住，喉間悄悄收緊；竿梢彎了一下又直回來，一條濕亮的綠絲自鉤上提起，只有一片濕葉的重量。他轉動捲線器一圈、再一圈，海草像失去興致的緞帶一樣滑落。當他用手背抹過嘴角，鹽味還留著，他把手指重新扣在溫熱的軟木握把上。