陌生人與戒指

The Stranger and the Ring

old drew many to South Africa and it was gold that has just reaffirmed my faith in this 1）muddled， mosaic nation.

As a Briton living in 2）Cape Town， I recently received the call that nobody wants. My father had passed away. After the funeral in England， my mother showed me dad’s will. It mostly went to her with one named item for me—a gold ring， worn for decades by dad and before him， by his own father.

I’ve never really been into jewellery， yet when I slipped the ring on my left 3）pinky it felt somehow right. Consoled in my grief by dad’s beloved bling， I flew home to South Africa.

All was well until a wintry Saturday when I walked on our local beach. As so often in the Cape， it was fiercely windy， a blur of sand and 4）spindrift. When I got home and lit the fire， I looked at my left hand. The ring wasn’t there.

An emotional tsunami washed over me—shock， horror， 5）remorse， anger， powerlessness. And when it pulled back， all that was really left was guilt—a potential life sentence of guilt. 6）Hoping against hope that it had not been dropped on the beach， I looked everywhere else. Maybe the car？ I stripped it 7）to no avail. Maybe the 8）veranda where I dried off the dog？ No luck. Maybe the house？ Nothing.

It must have been the beach， an area stretching 200m from the car park—the ring， a very small needle in a very large and tidally wet haystack.

I was out at first light the next day but with no luck， spirits dimming. My only hope was this—the wind had been so strong the ring could have been buried. It might just still be there， somewhere.

I contacted local metal detector users. Two came to help， one even lending me his gear. “Take as long as you need，” he said. Days of searching passed 9）forlornly. I found an old mobile phone， a 50 cent coin and a lot of bottle tops.

I rang mum that long week but was not brave enough to confess. If I had to tell her I had lost dad’s ring， I had to be able to say I had done everything humanly possible to find it.

With my hopes failing， a third detectionist offered to drive from an hour away to help， “I have only one condition，” he said： “I don’t want payment even if I find something.”

When things look too good to be true， surely life teaches us that is exactly what they are.

So late on Sunday， eight days after the ring was lost， Alan and his kids arrived. Fluid dynamics of wet sand being what they are， by now the ring could have burrowed anything up to 50cm down. Was this 10）the last throw of the dice？

Alan surveyed the search area. He talked about the wind， the tide， the currents and then he got to work. Up and down he ploughed， earphones on， criss-crossing dry sand， wet sand and even the approaching surf.

His gear was so good； he was picking up something every three or four paces， ring pulls and other metallic junk so I rather gave up watching closely every time he started to dig.

And then， a miracle. From a hole 40cm down， Alan had heaped wet sand and his eye， tempered by years of peering into 11）briny 12）swill， had seen something. Calling out for me to come over， calmly he said the best of words： “There’s your ring， Tim.”

This could not be happening. My eyes， 13）prickly with tears and blurry with expectation， couldn’t see straight to begin with. And then there it was， dad’s ring， his dad’s ring， 90 years of accompanying them on life’s journey and lost by me on a beach in Africa after a few weeks’ 14）custody.

Alan grinned， the kids capered， the dog joined in and for a moment all was madness. I hugged this big， bearded stranger.

And there was a greater miracle at work. My saviour refused all reward. He was firm， he was insistent. No he would not accept a fee， no he did not want petrol money， no he did not want a celebratory drink nor fish and chips to drive home with. He wanted nothing more than to give something back.

I went down to that beach that day to find a ring. What I actually found was more valuable still—that there remain some decent souls out there. Now， at last， I can call mum.

金子吸引了很多人到南非，也是金子讓我在這個紛亂而多樣化的國家再次堅定我的信仰。

我是一個住在開普敦的英國人，我最近接到了一個任何人都不想接到的電話。我的父親去世了。在英國參加完葬禮后，母親給我看了父親的遺囑。大部分遺產都歸母親所有，我得到了一樣指定物品——一個金戒指，這個戒指父親已經戴了幾十年了，在他之前，他的父親也戴了幾十年。

我從未佩戴過真正意義上的珠寶，然而當我把這個戒指穿入左手尾指時，不知為何，我覺得很合適。父親這件心愛的珠寶撫慰了我內心的痛苦，我戴著這個戒指飛回了南非的家。

一切都安好無事，直到一個寒冷的星期六，當時我在當地一個沙灘上散步。那時的開普敦和平時沒什么兩樣，風很大，沙子與飛濺的浪花讓人視線模糊。我回到家，點燃壁爐，看向我的左手。戒指不見了。

霎時，我心里翻江倒海，震驚、恐懼、懊惱、憤怒、無力等情緒在內心翻騰。各種情緒平復后，我只感到深深的愧疚——也許將背負一生的愧疚。抱著一線希望，但愿戒指沒有掉到沙灘上，我找遍了其他地方。也許是掉在了車上？我把車子翻遍了也沒找到。也許是掉在了走廊？我曾在那里吹干狗狗身上的毛。沒找到。也許在房子里？一無所獲。

一定是掉在了沙灘里，以停車場為起點，延伸200米以內的區域——要找一個戒指，就像大海撈針一樣。

第二天，天剛亮我就出去找了，但依然一無所獲，我感到很灰心。我唯一的希望就是——那時的風很大，戒指可能被埋起來了。……