On the morning of her last crossing, Iolanthe reached the pier at twenty to six, as she had done for twenty-six years. The harbor was grey, and a thin mist lay on the water between the island and the mainland. She walked the length of the ferry, touched the rail near the stern, as always, and said nothing about it to Benno.
最后一次摆渡的那天早上，约兰特像二十六年来的每一天一样，五点四十分到了码头。海港灰蒙蒙的，岛和大陆之间的水面上浮着一层薄雾。她从渡轮的这头走到那头，像往常一样摸了摸船尾附近的栏杆，对本诺只字未提。
Benno had worked under her for two years and had been told, officially, that he would take over the wheel after the summer. He had also been told, unofficially, by almost everyone, that she could never be replaced. Every evening he had practiced docking in the empty bay, and every evening he had gone home less sure of himself.
本诺在她手下干了两年，官方告诉他，夏天之后由他接掌舵轮。而私下里，几乎每个人都对他说，她是不可取代的。每天傍晚，他都在空荡荡的港湾里练习靠岸，每天傍晚，他回家时都更没了把握。
At ten to seven, he had his hand on the ramp lever when a young man ran onto the pier, his suitcase bouncing behind him. The timetable said departure at six-fifty. Benno began to raise the ramp.
六点五十分，他刚把手放在跳板的操纵杆上，一个年轻男人跑上了码头，身后的行李箱一路颠簸。时刻表上写的是六点五十分开船。本诺开始升起跳板。
"Hold it," Iolanthe called from the cabin window.
“等一下，”约兰特从驾驶室的窗口喊道。
"It's already ten to seven, Captain."
“已经六点五十了，船长。”
"I know what time it is. Nobody has ever been wrecked by forty seconds."
“我知道几点了。从来没有谁是被四十秒给毁掉的。”
The young man tumbled aboard, gasping and apologizing to everyone. The regulars, meanwhile, were behaving strangely. Normally they waved at the cabin as they boarded. Today they kept their eyes on the deck. A large sheet of paper was being passed from hand to hand, as quietly as a secret in a classroom.
年轻男人跌跌撞撞地上了船，气喘吁吁，对每个人连声道歉。而那些常客，此刻行为古怪。平时他们上船时都会向驾驶室挥手。今天他们的目光只盯着甲板。一大张纸正在人们手里传来传去，悄无声息，像课堂上传递的一个秘密。
Halfway across, Iolanthe stepped away from the wheel. "Take her," she said. "Out here, she's yours." Benno's palms were damp against the wood. Behind him, from the stern, came the sound of a cello. Its owner had caught the early boat every morning for eleven years, and he played a slow tune that nobody had announced.
渡船行到一半，约兰特离开了舵轮。“接手吧，”她说，“在这海上，她是你的了。”本诺的手心贴着木头，湿漉漉的。他身后，从船尾传来了大提琴的声音。琴的主人十一年来每天都赶早班船，此刻他拉着一支缓慢的曲子，谁也没有事先通知。
The baker put the sheet of paper into the captain's hands. Sixty names covered it, some in pencil and some in pen. Iolanthe read it for a long time, and then she wiped her face with her sleeve and blamed the spray.
面包师把那张纸放进了船长手里。上面写满了六十个名字，有的用铅笔，有的用钢笔。约兰特读了很久，然后用袖子擦了擦脸，说是被浪花溅到的。
She told Benno later that she had known for a week. "Nothing happens on this boat without my hearing about it," she said. "But they had been so secretive that it would have been unkind to spoil it."
后来她对本诺说，其实她一个星期前就知道了。“这条船上有什么事，不可能没传到我耳朵里，”她说，“可他们保密得那么认真，要是我戳穿了，就太不近人情了。”
As the mainland pier came into view, she joined him at the wheel. "One piece of advice, and then I'll leave you alone," she said. "Everyone will teach you the engine and the tides. If I were you, I would worry less about those. Wait for the runner."
大陆的码头渐渐出现在眼前时，她来到他身边的舵轮旁。“给你一条建议，然后我就不打扰你了，”她说，“大家都会教你引擎和潮汐。要是我是你，我就不会太担心那些。要等那个奔跑的人。”
"The runner?"
“奔跑的人？”
"Every boat has one. Somebody who is late for something that matters. Forty seconds, every time. The timetable can spare it, and they never forget it."
“每条船上都有一个。一个为了重要的事而迟到的人。每次四十秒。时刻表担得起这点时间，而他们永远不会忘记。”
He brought the ferry in slowly, with the engine barely a murmur. The hull touched the fender so softly that the cellist, still playing, did not miss a note. Nobody clapped. The regulars simply nodded to him as they went ashore, one by one, as if he had always been the one at the wheel.
他驾着渡轮缓缓靠岸，引擎只发出几乎听不见的低鸣。船体碰到护舷时那么轻，连仍在演奏的大提琴手都没有漏掉一个音符。没有人鼓掌。常客们下船时只是一个接一个地向他点头，仿佛站在舵轮后面的一直就是他。
When the last passenger had left, Iolanthe handed him the logbook. "You write the final entry," she said.
最后一位乘客离开后，约兰特把航海日志递给他。“最后一条记录，你来写，”她说。
Benno wrote the time, the wind and the visibility. Under "Remarks", he hesitated, and then he wrote, "Waited for a runner. Forty seconds."
本诺写下了时间、风力和能见度。在“备注”一栏，他迟疑了一下，然后写道：“等了一位奔跑的人。四十秒。”
