Kitabı oku: «Скотный двор / Animal Farm», sayfa 8

Chapter IV

By the late summer the news of the Animal Farm spread across half the county. Every day Snowball and Napoleon sent out flights of pigeons whose instructions were to mingle with the animals on neighbouring farms, tell them the story of the Rebellion, and teach them the tune of ‘Beasts of England’.

Most of this time Mr. Jones spent in the taproom of the Red Lion at Willingdon. He was complaining to anyone who listened of the monstrous injustice he suffered. A pack of good-for-nothing animals turned him out of his property. The other farmers listened to him, but they did give him much help. It was lucky that the owners of the two farms which adjoined Animal Farm were on permanently bad terms. One of them, which was named Foxwood, was a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm, with all its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition. Its owner, Mr. Pilkington, was aneasy-going¹⁷ gentleman farmer who spent most of his time in fishing or hunting.

The other farm, which was called Pinchfield, was smaller. Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd man, perpetually involved in lawsuits. These two disliked each other so much that it was difficult for them to come to any agreement.

Nevertheless, they were both thoroughly frightened by the rebellion on Animal Farm, and very anxious to prevent their own animals from learning too much about it. At first they laughed to scorn the idea of animals managing a farm for themselves. The whole thing will be over in a fortnight. The Manor Farm (they insisted on calling it the Manor Farm; they hated the name «Animal Farm») will rapidly starve to death. When time passed and the animals did not evidently starve to death, Frederick and Pilkington changed their tune and began to talk of the terrible wickedness that now flourished on Animal Farm. The animals there practised cannibalism, tortured one another with red-hot horseshoes, and had their females in common. This was against the laws of Nature, Frederick and Pilkington said.

However, the people did not believe these stories. Rumours of a wonderful farm, where the animals managed their own affairs, continued to circulate. Throughout that year a wave of rebelliousness ran through the countryside. Bulls which were always tractable suddenly turned savage, sheep broke down hedges and devoured the clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot their riders on to the other side. Above all, the tune and even the words of ‘Beasts of England’ were known everywhere. It spread with astonishing speed. The human beings could not contain their rage when they heard this song, though they thought it merely ridiculous. And yet the song was irrepressible. The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges, the pigeons cooed it in the elms. And when the human beings listened to it, they secretly trembled.

Early in October, when the corn was cut and stacked and some of it was already threshed, a flight of pigeons alighted in the yard of Animal Farm in the wildest excitement. Jones and all his men, with half a dozen others from Foxwood and Pinchfield, entered the five-barred gate and were coming up the track that led to the farm. They were all carrying sticks, except Jones, who was marching ahead with a gun in his hands. Obviously they were going to attempt the recapture of the farm.

The animals were ready. All preparations have been made. Snowball, who had studied an old book of Julius Caesar’s campaigns which he found in the farmhouse, was in charge of the defensive operations. He gave his orders quickly, and in a couple of minutes every animal was at his post.

As the human beings approached the farm buildings, Snowball launched his first attack. All the pigeons flew to and fro over the men’s heads and muted upon them. While the men were dealing with this, the geese rushed out and pecked viciously at the calves of their legs. However, this was only a light manoeuvre, intended to create a little disorder. The men easily drove the geese off with their sticks.

Snowball now launched his second line of attack. Muriel, Benjamin, and all the sheep, with Snowball at the head of them, rushed forward and prodded and butted the men from every side. Benjamin turned around and lashed at them with his small hoofs. But once again the men, with their sticks and their hobnailed boots, were too strong for them. Suddenly, at a squeal from Snowball, which was the signal for retreat, all the animals turned and fled through the gateway into the yard.

The men gave a shout of triumph. They rushed after their enemies. This was just what Snowball wanted. As soon as they were inside the yard, the three horses, the three cows, and the rest of the pigs, who were lying in ambush in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their rear. Snowball gave the signal. He himself dashed straight for Jones. Jones raised his gun and fired. The pellets scored bloody streaks along Snowball’s back, and a sheep dropped dead.

Snowball flung against Jones’s legs. Jones was hurled into a pile of dung and his gun flew out of his hands. But the most terrifying spectacle of all was Boxer. He was rearing up on his hind legs and striking out with his great iron-shod hoofs like a stallion. His very first blow took astable-lad¹⁸ on the skull and stretched him lifeless in the mud.