Bermuda, as all the world knows, is a British colony at which we maintain a convict establishment. Most of our outlying convict establishments have been sent back upon our hands from our colonies, but here one is still maintained. There is also in the islands a strong military fortress7, though not a fortress looking magnificent to the eyes of civilians8, as do Malta and Gibraltar. There are also here some six thousand white people and some six thousand black people, eating, drinking, sleeping, and dying.
The convict establishment is the most notable feature of Bermuda to a stranger, but it does not seem to attract much attention from the regular inhabitants of the place. There is no intercourse9 between the prisoners and the Bermudians. The convicts are rarely seen by them, and the convict islands are rarely visited. As to the prisoners themselves, of course it is not open to them — or should not be open to them — to have intercourse with any but the prison authorities.
There have, however, been instances in which convicts have escaped from their confinement10, and made their way out among the islands. Poor wretches11! As a rule, there is but little chance for any that can so escape. The whole length of the cluster is but twenty miles, and the breadth is under four. The prisoners are, of course, white men, and the lower orders of Bermuda, among whom alone could a runagate have any chance of hiding himself, are all negroes; so that such a one would be known at once. Their clothes are all marked. Their only chance of a permanent escape would be in the hold of an American ship; but what captain of an American or other ship would willingly encumber13 himself with an escaped convict? But, nevertheless, men have escaped; and in one instance, I believe, a convict got away, so that of him no farther tidings were ever heard.
For the truth of the following tale I will not by any means vouch14. If one were to inquire on the spot one might probably find that the ladies all believe it, and the old men; that all the young men know exactly how much of it is false and how much true; and that the steady, middle-aged15, well-to-do islanders are quite convinced that it is romance from beginning to end. My readers may range themselves with the ladies, the young men, or the steady, well-to- do, middle-aged islanders, as they please.
Some years ago, soon after the prison was first established on its present footing, three men did escape from it, and among them a certain notorious prisoner named Aaron Trow. Trow’s antecedents in England had not been so villanously bad as those of many of his fellow-convicts, though the one offence for which he was punished had been of a deep dye: he had shed man’s blood. At a period of great distress16 in a manufacturing town he had led men on to riot, and with his own hand had slain17 the first constable18 who had endeavoured to do his duty against him. There had been courage in the doing of the deed, and probably no malice19; but the deed, let its moral blackness have been what it might, had sent him to Bermuda, with a sentence against him of penal20 servitude for life. Had he been then amenable21 to prison discipline — even then, with such a sentence against him as that — he might have won his way back, after the lapse22 of years, to the children, and perhaps, to the wife, that he had left behind him; but he was amenable to no rules — to no discipline. His heart was sore to death with an idea of injury, and he lashed23 himself against the bars of his cage with a feeling that it would be well if he could so lash24 himself till he might perish in his fury.
And then a day came in which an attempt was made by a large body of convicts, under his leadership, to get the better of the officers of the prison. It is hardly necessary to say that the attempt failed. Such attempts always fail. It failed on this occasion signally, and Trow, with two other men, were condemned25 to be scourged26 terribly, and then kept in solitary27 confinement for some lengthened28 term of months. Before, however, the day of scourging29 came, Trow and his two associates had escaped.
I have not the space to tell how this was effected, nor the power to describe the manner. They did escape from the establishment into the islands, and though two of them were taken after a single day’s run at liberty, Aaron Trow had not been yet retaken even when a week was over. When a month was over he had not been retaken, and the officers of the prison began to say that he had got away from them in a vessel30 to the States. It was impossible, they said, that he should have remained in the islands and not been discovered. It was not impossible that he might have destroyed himself, leaving his body where it had not yet been found. But he could not have lived on in Bermuda during that month’s search. So, at least, said the officers of the prison. There was, however, a report through the islands that he had been seen from time to time; that he had gotten bread from the negroes at night, threatening them with death if they told of his whereabouts; and that all the clothes of the mate of a vessel had been stolen while the man was bathing, including a suit of dark blue cloth, in which suit of clothes, or in one of such a nature, a stranger had been seen skulking31 about the rocks near St. George. All this the governor of the prison affected32 to disbelieve, but the opinion was becoming very rife33 in the islands that Aaron Trow was still there.
A vigilant34 search, however, is a task of great labour, and cannot be kept up for ever. By degrees it was relaxed. The warders and gaolers ceased to patrol the island roads by night, and it was agreed that Aaron Trow was gone, or that he would be starved to death, or that he would in time be driven to leave such traces of his whereabouts as must lead to his discovery; and this at last did turn out to be the fact.
There is a sort of prettiness about these islands which, though it never rises to the loveliness of romantic scenery, is nevertheless attractive in its way. The land breaks itself into little knolls36, and the sea runs up, hither and thither, in a thousand creeks37 and inlets; and then, too, when the oleanders are in bloom, they give a wonderfully bright colour to the landscape. Oleanders seem to be the roses of Bermuda, and are cultivated round all the villages of the better class through the islands. There are two towns, St. George and Hamilton, and one main high-road, which connects them; but even this high-road is broken by a ferry, over which every vehicle going from St. George to Hamilton must be conveyed. Most of the locomotion40 in these parts is done by boats, and the residents look to the sea, with its narrow creeks, as their best highway from their farms to their best market. In those days — and those days were not very long since — the building of small ships was their chief trade, and they valued their land mostly for the small scrubby cedar41-trees with which this trade was carried on.
As one goes from St. George to Hamilton the road runs between two seas; that to the right is the ocean; that on the left is an inland creek38, which runs up through a large portion of the islands, so that the land on the other side of it is near to the traveller. For a considerable portion of the way there are no houses lying near the road, and, there is one residence, some way from the road, so secluded42 that no other house lies within a mile of it by land. By water it might probably be reached within half a mile. This place was called Crump Island, and here lived, and had lived for many years, an old gentleman, a native of Bermuda, whose business it had been to buy up cedar wood and sell it to the ship-builders at Hamilton. In our story we shall not have very much to do with old Mr. Bergen, but it will be necessary to say a word or two about his house.
It stood upon what would have been an island in the creek, had not a narrow causeway, barely broad enough for a road, joined it to that larger island on which stands the town of St. George. As the main road approaches the ferry it runs through some rough, hilly, open ground, which on the right side towards the ocean has never been cultivated. The distance from the ocean here may, perhaps, be a quarter of a mile, and the ground is for the most part covered with low furze. On the left of the road the land is cultivated in patches, and here, some half mile or more from the ferry, a path turns away to Crump Island. The house cannot be seen from the road, and, indeed, can hardly be seen at all, except from the sea. It lies, perhaps, three furlongs from the high road, and the path to it is but little used, as the passage to and from it is chiefly made by water.
Here, at the time of our story, lived Mr. Bergen, and here lived Mr. Bergen’s daughter. Miss Bergen was well known at St. George’s as a steady, good girl, who spent her time in looking after her father’s household matters, in managing his two black maid-servants and the black gardener, and who did her duty in that sphere of life to which she had been called. She was a comely43, well-shaped young woman, with a sweet countenance44, rather large in size, and very quiet in demeanour. In her earlier years, when young girls usually first bud forth45 into womanly beauty, the neighbours had not thought much of Anastasia Bergen, nor had the young men of St. George been wont47 to stay their boats under the window of Crump Cottage in order that they might listen to her voice or feel the light of her eye; but slowly, as years went by, Anastasia Bergen became a woman that a man might well love; and a man learned to love her who was well worthy48 of a woman’s heart. This was Caleb Morton, the Presbyterian minister of St. George; and Caleb Morton had been engaged to marry Miss Bergen for the last two years past, at the period of Aaron Trow’s escape from prison.
Caleb Morton was not a native of Bermuda, but had been sent thither by the synod of his church from Nova Scotia. He was a tall, handsome man, at this time of some thirty years of age, of a presence which might almost have been called commanding. He was very strong, but of a temperament49 which did not often give him opportunity to put forth his strength; and his life had been such that neither he nor others knew of what nature might be his courage. The greater part of his life was spent in preaching to some few of the white people around him, and in teaching as many of the blacks as he could get to hear him. His days were very quiet, and had been altogether without excitement until he had met with Anastasia Bergen. It will suffice for us to say that he did meet her, and that now, for two years past, they had been engaged as man and wife.
Old Mr. Bergen, when he heard of the engagement, was not well pleased at the information. In the first place, his daughter was very necessary to him, and the idea of her marrying and going away had hardly as yet occurred to him; and then he was by no means inclined to part with any of his money. It must not be presumed that he had amassed50 a fortune by his trade in cedar wood. Few tradesmen in Bermuda do, as I imagine, amass51 fortunes. Of some few hundred pounds he was possessed52, and these, in the course of nature, would go to his daughter when he died; but he had no inclination53 to hand any portion of them over to his daughter before they did go to her in the course of nature. Now, the income which Caleb Morton earned as a Presbyterian clergyman was not large, and, therefore, no day had been fixed54 as yet for his marriage with Anastasia.
But, though the old man had been from the first averse55 to the match, his hostility56 had not been active. He had not forbidden Mr. Morton his house, or affected to be in any degree angry because his daughter had a lover. He had merely grumbled57 forth an intimation that those who marry in haste repent58 at leisure — that love kept nobody warm if the pot did not boil; and that, as for him, it was as much as he could do to keep his own pot boiling at Crump Cottage. In answer to this Anastasia said nothing. She asked him for no money, but still kept his accounts, managed his household, and looked patiently forward for better days.
Old Mr. Bergen himself spent much of his time at Hamilton, where he had a woodyard with a couple of rooms attached to it. It was his custom to remain here three nights of the week, during which Anastasia was left alone at the cottage; and it happened by no means seldom that she was altogether alone, for the negro whom they called the gardener would go to her father’s place at Hamilton, and the two black girls would crawl away up to the road, tired with the monotony of the sea at the cottage. Caleb had more than once told her that she was too much alone, but she had laughed at him, saying that solitude59 in Bermuda was not dangerous. Nor, indeed, was it; for the people are quiet and well-mannered, lacking much energy, but being, in the same degree, free from any propensity60 to violence.
“So you are going,” she said to her lover, one evening, as he rose from the chair on which he had been swinging himself at the door of the cottage which looks down over the creek of the sea. He had sat there for an hour talking to her as she worked, or watching her as she moved about the place. It was a beautiful evening, and the sun had been falling to rest with almost tropical glory before his feet. The bright oleanders were red with their blossoms all around him, and he had thoroughly61 enjoyed his hour of easy rest. “So you are going,” she said to him, not putting her work out of her hand as he rose to depart.
“Yes; and it is time for me to go. I have still work to do before I can get to bed. Ah, well; I suppose the day will come at last when I need not leave you as soon as my hour of rest is over.”
“Come; of course it will come. That is, if your reverence62 should choose to wait for it another ten years or so.”
“I believe you would not mind waiting twenty years.”
“Not if a certain friend of mine would come down and see me of evenings when I’m alone after the day. It seems to me that I shouldn’t mind waiting as long as I had that to look for.”
“You are right not to be impatient,” he said to her, after a pause, as he held her hand before he went. “Quite right. I only wish I could school myself to be as easy about it.”
“I did not say I was easy,” said Anastasia. “People are seldom easy in this world, I take it. I said I could be patient. Do not look in that way, as though you pretended that you were dissatisfied with me. You know that I am true to you, and you ought to be very proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, Anastasia —” on hearing which she got up and courtesied to him. “I am proud of you; so proud of you that I feel you should not be left here all alone, with no one to help you if you were in trouble.”
“Women don’t get into trouble as men do, and do not want any one to help them. If you were alone in the house you would have to go to bed without your supper, because you could not make a basin of boiled milk ready for your own meal. Now, when your reverence has gone, I shall go to work and have my tea comfortably.” And then he did go, bidding God bless her as he left her. Three hours after that he was disturbed in his own lodgings63 by one of the negro girls from the cottage rushing to his door, and begging him in Heaven’s name to come down to the assistance of her mistress.
When Morton left her, Anastasia did not proceed to do as she had said, and seemed to have forgotten her evening meal. She had been working sedulously64 with her needle during all that last conversation; but when her lover was gone, she allowed the work to fall from her hands, and sat motionless for awhile, gazing at the last streak65 of colour left by the setting sun; but there was no longer a sign of its glory to be traced in the heavens around her. The twilight66 in Bermuda is not long and enduring as it is with us, though the daylight does not depart suddenly, leaving the darkness of night behind it without any intermediate time of warning, as is the case farther south, down among the islands of the tropics. But the soft, sweet light of the evening had waned67 and gone, and night had absolutely come upon her, while Anastasia was still seated before the cottage with her eyes fixed upon the white streak of motionless sea which was still visible through the gloom. She was thinking of him, of his ways of life, of his happiness, and of her duty towards him. She had told him, with her pretty feminine falseness, that she could wait without impatience68; but now she said to herself that it would not be good for him to wait longer. He lived alone and without comfort, working very hard for his poor pittance69, and she could see, and feel, and understand that a companion in his life was to him almost a necessity. She would tell her father that all this must be brought to an end. She would not ask him for money, but she would make him understand that her services must, at any rate in part, be transferred. Why should not she and Morton still live at the cottage when they were married? And so thinking, and at last resolving, she sat there till the dark night fell upon her.
She was at last disturbed by feeling a man’s hand upon her shoulder. She jumped from her chair and faced him — not screaming, for it was especially within her power to control herself, and to make no utterance70 except with forethought. Perhaps it might have been better for her had she screamed, and sent a shrill71 shriek72 down the shore of that inland sea. She was silent, however, and with awe- struck face and outstretched hands gazed into the face of him who still held her by the shoulder. The night was dark; but her eyes were now accustomed to the darkness, and she could see indistinctly something of his features. He was a low-sized man, dressed in a suit of sailor’s blue clothing, with a rough cap of hair on his head, and a beard that had not been clipped for many weeks. His eyes were large, and hollow, and frightfully bright, so that she seemed to see nothing else of him; but she felt the strength of his fingers as he grasped her tighter and more tightly by the arm.
“Who are you?” she said, after a moment’s pause.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
“Know you! No.” But the words were hardly out of her mouth before it struck her that the man was Aaron Trow, of whom every one in Bermuda had been talking.
“Come into the house,” he said, “and give me food.” And he still held her with his hand as though he would compel her to follow him.
She stood for a moment thinking what she would say to him; for even then, with that terrible man standing74 close to her in the darkness, her presence of mind did not desert her. “Surely,” she said, “I will give you food if you are hungry. But take your hand from me. No man would lay his hands on a woman.”
“A woman!” said the stranger. “What does the starved wolf care for that? A woman’s blood is as sweet to him as that of a man. Come into the house, I tell you.” And then she preceded him through the open door into the narrow passage, and thence to the kitchen. There she saw that the back door, leading out on the other side of the house, was open, and she knew that he had come down from the road and entered on that side. She threw her eyes around, looking for the negro girls; but they were away, and she remembered that there was no human being within sound of her voice but this man who had told her that he was as a wolf thirsty after her blood!
“Give me food at once,” he said.
“And will you go if I give it you?” she asked.
“I will knock out your brains if you do not,” he replied, lifting from the grate a short, thick poker76 which lay there. “Do as I bid you at once. You also would be like a tiger if you had fasted for two days, as I have done.”
She could see, as she moved across the kitchen, that he had already searched there for something that he might eat, but that he had searched in vain. With the close economy common among his class in the islands, all comestibles were kept under close lock and key in the house of Mr. Bergen. Their daily allowance was given day by day to the negro servants, and even the fragments were then gathered up and locked away in safety. She moved across the kitchen to the accustomed cupboard, taking the keys from her pocket, and he followed close upon her. There was a small oil lamp hanging from the low ceiling which just gave them light to see each other. She lifted her hand to this to tare78 it from its hook, but he prevented her. “No, by Heaven!” he said, “you don’t touch that till I’ve done with it. There’s light enough for you to drag out your scraps79.”
She did drag out her scraps and a bowl of milk, which might hold perhaps a quart. There was a fragment of bread, a morsel80 of cold potato-cake, and the bone of a leg of kid. “And is that all?” said he. But as he spoke81 he fleshed his teeth against the bone as a dog would have done.
“It is the best I have,” she said; “I wish it were better, and you should have had it without violence, as you have suffered so long from hunger.”
“Bah! Better; yes! You would give the best no doubt, and set the hell hounds on my track the moment I am gone. I know how much I might expect from your charity.”
“I would have fed you for pity’s sake,” she answered.
“Pity! Who are you, that you should dare to pity me! By — my young woman, it is I that pity you. I must cut your throat unless you give me money. Do you know that?”
“Money! I have got no money.”
“I’ll make you have some before I go. Come; don’t move till I have done.” And as he spoke to her he went on tugging82 at the bone, and swallowing the lumps of stale bread. He had already finished the bowl of milk. “And, now,” said he, “tell me who I am.”
“I suppose you are Aaron Trow,” she answered, very slowly. He said nothing on hearing this, but continued his meal, standing close to her so that she might not possibly escape from him out into the darkness. Twice or thrice in those few minutes she made up her mind to make such an attempt, feeling that it would be better to leave him in possession of the house, and make sure, if possible, of her own life. There was no money there; not a dollar! What money her father kept in his possession was locked up in his safe at Hamilton. And might he not keep to his threat, and murder her, when he found that she could give him nothing? She did not tremble outwardly, as she stood there watching him as he ate, but she thought how probable it might be that her last moments were very near. And yet she could scrutinise his features, form, and garments, so as to carry away in her mind a perfect picture of them. Aaron Trow — for of course it was the escaped convict — was not a man of frightful73, hideous83 aspect. Had the world used him well, giving him when he was young ample wages and separating him from turbulent spirits, he also might have used the world well; and then women would have praised the brightness of his eye and the manly46 vigour84 of his brow. But things had not gone well with him. He had been separated from the wife he had loved, and the children who had been raised at his knee — separated by his own violence; and now, as he had said of himself, he was a wolf rather than a man. As he stood there satisfying the craving85 of his appetite, breaking up the large morsels86 of food, he was an object very sad to be seen. Hunger had made him gaunt and yellow, he was squalid with the dirt of his hidden lair87, and he had the look of a beast; — that look to which men fall when they live like the brutes89 of prey90, as outcasts from their brethren. But still there was that about his brow which might have redeemed91 him — which might have turned her horror into pity, had he been willing that it should be so.
“And now give me some brandy,” he said.
There was brandy in the house — in the sitting-room92 which was close at their hand, and the key of the little press which held it was in her pocket. It was useless, she thought, to refuse him; and so she told him that there was a bottle partly full, but that she must go to the next room to fetch it him.
“We’ll go together, my darling,” he said. “There’s nothing like good company.” And he again put his hand upon her arm as they passed into the family sitting-room.
“I must take the light,” she said. But he unhooked it himself, and carried it in his own hand.
Again she went to work without trembling. She found the key of the side cupboard, and unlocking the door, handed him a bottle which might contain about half-a-pint of spirits. “And is that all?” he said.
“There is a full bottle here,” she answered, handing him another; “but if you drink it, you will be drunk, and they will catch you.”
“By Heavens, yes; and you would be the first to help them; would you not?”
“Look here,” she answered. “If you will go now, I will not say a word to any one of your coming, nor set them on your track to follow you. There, take the full bottle with you. If you will go, you shall be safe from me.”
“What, and go without money!”
“I have none to give you. You may believe me when I say so. I have not a dollar in the house.”
Before he spoke again he raised the half empty bottle to his mouth, and drank as long as there was a drop to drink. “There,” said he, putting the bottle down, “I am better after that. As to the other, you are right, and I will take it with me. And now, young woman, about the money?”
“I tell you that I have not a dollar.”
“Look here,” said he, and he spoke now in a softer voice, as though he would be on friendly terms with her. “Give me ten sovereigns, and I will go. I know you have it, and with ten sovereigns it is possible that I may save my life. You are good, and would not wish that a man should die so horrid93 a death. I know you are good. Come, give me the money.” And he put his hands up, beseeching94 her, and looked into her face with imploring95 eyes.
“On the word of a Christian96 woman I have not got money to give you,” she replied.
“Nonsense?” And as he spoke he took her by the arm and shook her. He shook her violently so that he hurt her, and her breath for a moment was all but gone from her. “I tell you you must make dollars before I leave you, or I will so handle you that it would have been better for you to coin your very blood.”
“May God help me at my need,” she said, “as I have not above a few penny pieces in the house.”
“And you expect me to believe that! Look here! I will shake the teeth out of your head, but I will have it from you.” And he did shake her again, using both his hands and striking her against the wall.
“Would you — murder me?” she said, hardly able now to utter the words.
“Murder you, yes; why not? I cannot be worse than I am, were I to murder you ten times over. But with money I may possibly be better.”
“I have it not.”
“Then I will do worse than murder you. I will make you such an object that all the world shall loathe97 to look on you.” And so saying he took her by the arm and dragged her forth from the wall against which she had stood.
Then there came from her a shriek that was heard far down the shore of that silent sea, and away across to the solitary houses of those living on the other side — a shriek, very sad, sharp, and prolonged — which told plainly to those who heard it of woman’s woe98 when in her extremest peril99. That sound was spoken of in Bermuda for many a day after that, as something which had been terrible to hear. But then, at that moment, as it came wailing100 through the dark, it sounded as though it were not human. Of those who heard it, not one guessed from whence it came, nor was the hand of any brother put forward to help that woman at her need.
“Did you hear that?” said the young wife to her husband, from the far side of the arm of the sea.
“Hear it! Oh Heaven, yes! Whence did it come?” The young wife could not say from whence it came, but clung close to her husband’s breast, comforting herself with the knowledge that that terrible sorrow was not hers.
But aid did come at last, or rather that which seemed as aid. Long and terrible was the fight between that human beast of prey and the poor victim which had fallen into his talons102. Anastasia Bergen was a strong, well-built woman, and now that the time had come to her when a struggle was necessary, a struggle for life, for honour, for the happiness of him who was more to her than herself, she fought like a tigress attacked in her own lair. At such a moment as this she also could become wild and savage103 as the beast of the forest. When he pinioned104 her arms with one of his, as he pressed her down upon the floor, she caught the first joint105 of the forefinger106 of his other hand between her teeth till he yelled in agony, and another sound was heard across the silent water. And then, when one hand was loosed in the struggle, she twisted it through his long hair, and dragged back his head till his eyes were nearly starting from their sockets107. Anastasia Bergen had hitherto been a sheer woman, all feminine in her nature. But now the foam108 came to her mouth, and fire sprang from her eyes, and the muscles of her body worked as though she had been trained to deeds of violence. Of violence, Aaron Trow had known much in his rough life, but never had he combated with harder antagonist109 than her whom he now held beneath his breast.
“By — I will put an end to you,” he exclaimed, in his wrath110, as he struck her violently across the face with his elbow. His hand was occupied, and he could not use it for a blow, but, nevertheless, the violence was so great that the blood gushed111 from her nostrils112, while the back of her head was driven with violence against the floor. But she did not lose her hold of him. Her hand was still twined closely through his thick hair, and in every move he made she clung to him with all her might. “Leave go my hair,” he shouted at her, but she still kept her hold, though he again dashed her head against the floor.
There was still light in the room, for when he first grasped her with both his hands, he had put the lamp down on a small table. Now they were rolling on the floor together, and twice he had essayed to kneel on her that he might thus crush the breath from her body, and deprive her altogether of her strength; but she had been too active for him, moving herself along the ground, though in doing so she dragged him with her. But by degrees he got one hand at liberty, and with that he pulled a clasp knife out of his pocket and opened it. “I will cut your head off if you do not let go my hair,” he said. But still she held fast by him. He then stabbed at her arm, using his left hand and making short, ineffectual blows. Her dress partly saved her, and partly also the continual movement of all her limbs; but, nevertheless, the knife wounded her. It wounded her in several places about the arm, covering them both with blood; — but still she hung on. So close was her grasp in her agony, that, as she afterwards found, she cut the skin of her own hands with her own nails. Had the man’s hair been less thick or strong, or her own tenacity113 less steadfast114, he would have murdered her before any interruption could have saved her.
And yet he had not purposed to murder her, or even, in the first instance, to inflict115 on her any bodily harm. But he had been determined116 to get money. With such a sum of money as he had named, it might, he thought, be possible for him to win his way across to America. He might bribe117 men to hide him in the hold of a ship, and thus there might be for him, at any rate, a possibility of escape. That there must be money in the house he had still thought when first he laid hands on the poor woman; and then, when the struggle had once begun, when he had felt her muscles contending with his, the passion of the beast was aroused within him, and he strove against her as he would have striven against a dog. But yet, when the knife was in his hand, he had not driven it against her heart.
Then suddenly, while they were yet rolling on the floor, there was a sound of footsteps in the passage. Aaron Trow instantly leaped to his feet, leaving his victim on the ground, with huge lumps of his thick clotted118 hair in her hand. Thus, and thus only, could he have liberated119 himself from her grasp. He rushed at the door, and there he came against the two negro servant-girls who had returned down to their kitchen from the road on which they had been straying. Trow, as he half saw them in the dark, not knowing how many there might be, or whether there was a man among them, rushed through them, upsetting one scared girl in his passage. With the instinct and with the timidity of a beast, his impulse now was to escape, and he hurried away back to the road and to his lair, leaving the three women together in the cottage. Poor wretch12! As he crossed the road, not skulking in his impotent haste, but running at his best, another pair of eyes saw him, and when the search became hot after him, it was known that his hiding-place was not distant.
It was some time before any of the women were able to act, and when some step was taken, Anastasia was the first to take it. She had not absolutely swooned, but the reaction, after the violence of her efforts, was so great, that for some minutes she had been unable to speak. She had risen from the floor when Trow left her, and had even followed him to the door; but since that she had fallen back into her father’s old arm-chair, and there sat gasping120 not only for words, but for breath also.
At last she bade one of the girls to run into St. George, and beg Mr. Morton to come to her aid. The girl would not stir without her companion; and even then, Anastasia, covered as she was with blood, with dishevelled hair, and her clothes half torn from her body, accompanied them as far as the road. There they found a negro lad still hanging about the place, and he told them that he had seen the man cross the road, and run down over the open ground towards the rocks of the sea-coast. “He must be there,” said the lad, pointing in the direction of a corner of the rocks; “unless he swim across the mouth of the ferry.” But the mouth of that ferry is an arm of the sea, and it was not probable that a man would do that when he might have taken the narrow water by keeping on the other side of the road.
At about one that night Caleb Morton reached the cottage breathless with running, and before a word was spoken between them, Anastasia had fallen on his shoulder and had fainted. As soon as she was in the arms of her lover, all her power had gone from her. The spirit and passion of the tiger had gone, and she was again a weak woman shuddering121 at the thought of what she had suffered. She remembered that she had had the man’s hand between her teeth, and by degrees she found his hair still clinging to her fingers; but even then she could hardly call to mind the nature of the struggle she had undergone. His hot breath close to her own cheek she did remember, and his glaring eyes, and even the roughness of his beard as he pressed his face against her own; but she could not say whence had come the blood, nor till her arm became stiff and motionless did she know that she had been wounded.
It was all joy with her now, as she sat motionless without speaking, while he administered to her wants and spoke words of love into her ears. She remembered the man’s horrid threat, and knew that by God’s mercy she had been saved. And he was there caressing122 her, loving her, comforting her! As she thought of the fate that had threatened her, of the evil that had been so imminent123, she fell forward on her knees, and with incoherent sobs124 uttered her thanksgivings, while her head was still supported on his arms.
It was almost morning before she could induce herself to leave him and lie down. With him she seemed to be so perfectly125 safe; but the moment he was away she could see Aaron Trow’s eyes gleaming at her across the room. At last, however, she slept; and when he saw that she was at rest, he told himself that his work must then begin. Hitherto Caleb Morton had lived in all respects the life of a man of peace; but now, asking himself no questions as to the propriety126 of what he would do, using no inward arguments as to this or that line of conduct, he girded the sword on his loins, and prepared himself for war. The wretch who had thus treated the woman whom he loved should be hunted down like a wild beast, as long as he had arms and legs with which to carry on the hunt. He would pursue the miscreant127 with any weapons that might come to his hands; and might Heaven help him at his need as he dealt forth punishment to that man, if he caught him within his grasp. Those who had hitherto known Morton in the island, could not recognise the man as he came forth on that day, thirsty after blood, and desirous to thrust himself into personal conflict with the wild ruffian who had injured him. The meek128 Presbyterian minister had been a preacher, preaching ways of peace, and living in accordance with his own doctrines129. The world had been very quiet for him, and he had walked quietly in his appointed path. But now the world was quiet no longer, nor was there any preaching of peace. His cry was for blood; for the blood of the untamed savage brute88 who had come upon his young doe in her solitude, and striven with such brutal131 violence to tear her heart from her bosom132.
He got to his assistance early in the morning some of the constables133 from St. George, and before the day was over, he was joined by two or three of the warders from the convict establishment. There was with him also a friend or two, and thus a party was formed, numbering together ten or twelve persons. They were of course all armed, and therefore it might be thought that there would be but small chance for the wretched man if they should come upon his track. At first they all searched together, thinking from the tidings which had reached them that he must be near to them; but gradually they spread themselves along the rocks between St. George and the ferry, keeping watchman on the road, so that he should not escape unnoticed into the island.
Ten times during the day did Anastasia send from the cottage up to Morton, begging him to leave the search to others, and come down to her. But not for a moment would he lose the scent134 of his prey. What! should it be said that she had been so treated, and that others had avenged135 her? He sent back to say that her father was with her now, and that he would come when his work was over. And in that job of work the life-blood of Aaron Trow was counted up.
Towards evening they were all congregated136 on the road near to the spot at which the path turns off towards the cottage, when a voice was heard hallooing to them from the summit of a little hill which lies between the road and the sea on the side towards the ferry, and presently a boy came running down to them full of news. “Danny Lund has seen him,” said the boy, “he has seen him plainly in among the rocks.” And then came Danny Lund himself, a small negro lad about fourteen years of age, who was known in those parts as the idlest, most dishonest, and most useless of his race. On this occasion, however, Danny Lund became important, and every one listened to him. He had seen, he said, a pair of eyes moving down in a cave of the rocks which he well knew. He had been in the cave often, he said, and could get there again. But not now; not while that pair of eyes was moving at the bottom of it. And so they all went up over the hill, Morton leading the way with hot haste. In his waist-band he held a pistol, and his hand grasped a short iron bar with which he had armed himself. They ascended138 the top of the hill, and when there, the open sea was before them on two sides, and on the third was the narrow creek over which the ferry passed. Immediately beneath their feet were the broken rocks; for on that side, towards the sea, the earth and grass of the hill descended139 but a little way towards the water. Down among the rocks they all went, silently, Caleb Morton leading the way, and Danny Lund directing him from behind.
“Mr. Morton,” said an elderly man from St. George, “had you not better let the warders of the gaol35 go first; he is a desperate man, and they will best understand his ways?”
In answer to this Morton said nothing, but he would let no one put a foot before him. He still pressed forward among the rocks, and at last came to a spot from whence he might have sprung at one leap into the ocean. It was a broken cranny on the sea-shore into which the sea beat, and surrounded on every side but the one by huge broken fragments of stone, which at first sight seemed as though they would have admitted of a path down among them to the water’s edge; but which, when scanned more closely, were seen to be so large in size, that no man could climb from one to another. It was a singularly romantic spot, but now well known to them all there, for they had visited it over and over again that morning.
“In there,” said Danny Lund, keeping well behind Morton’s body, and pointing at the same time to a cavern140 high up among the rocks, but quite on the opposite side of the little inlet of the sea. The mouth of the cavern was not twenty yards from where they stood, but at the first sight it seemed as though it must be impossible to reach it. The precipice141 on the brink142 of which they all now stood, ran down sheer into the sea, and the fall from the mouth of the cavern on the other side was as steep. But Danny solved the mystery by pointing upwards143, and showing them how he had been used to climb to a projecting rock over their heads, and from thence creep round by certain vantages of the stone till he was able to let himself down into the aperture144. But now, at the present moment, he was unwilling145 to make essay of his prowess as a cragsman. He had, he said, been up on that projecting rock thrice, and there had seen the eyes moving in the cavern. He was quite sure of that fact of the pair of eyes, and declined to ascend137 the rock again.
Traces soon became visible to them by which they knew that some one had passed in and out of the cavern recently. The stone, when examined, bore those marks of friction146 which passage and repassage over it will always give. At the spot from whence the climber left the platform and commenced his ascent147, the side of the stone had been rubbed by the close friction of a man’s body. A light boy like Danny Lund might find his way in and out without leaving such marks behind him, but no heavy man could do so. Thus before long they all were satisfied that Aaron Trow was in the cavern before them.
Then there was a long consultation148 as to what they would do to carry on the hunt, and how they would drive the tiger from his lair. That he should not again come out, except to fall into their hands, was to all of them a matter of course. They would keep watch and ward2 there, though it might be for days and nights. But that was a process which did not satisfy Morton, and did not indeed well satisfy any of them. It was not only that they desired to inflict punishment on the miscreant in accordance with the law, but also that they did not desire that the miserable149 man should die in a hole like a starved dog, and that then they should go after him to take out his wretched skeleton. There was something in that idea so horrid in every way, that all agreed that active steps must be taken. The warders of the prison felt that they would all be disgraced if they could not take their prisoner alive. Yet who would get round that perilous150 ledge101 in the face of such an adversary151? A touch to any man while climbing there would send him headlong down among the wave! And then his fancy told to each what might be the nature of an embrace with such an animal as that, driven to despair, hopeless of life, armed, as they knew, at any rate, with a knife! If the first adventurous152 spirit should succeed in crawling round that ledge, what would be the reception which he might expect in the terrible depth of that cavern?
They called to their prisoner, bidding him come out, and telling him that they would fire in upon him if he did not show himself; but not a sound was heard. It was indeed possible that they should send their bullets to, perhaps, every corner of the cavern; and if so, in that way they might slaughter153 him; but even of this they were not sure. Who could tell that there might not be some protected nook in which he could lay secure? And who could tell when the man was struck, or whether he were wounded?
“I will get to him,” said Morton, speaking with a low dogged voice, and so saying he clambered up to the rock to which Danny Lund had pointed130. Many voices at once attempted to restrain him, and one or two put their hands upon him to keep him back, but he was too quick for them, and now stood upon the ledge of rock. “Can you see him?” they asked below.
“I can see nothing within the cavern,” said Morton.
“Look down very hard, Massa,” said Danny, “very hard indeed, down in deep dark hole, and then see him big eyes moving!”
Morton now crept along the ledge, or rather he was beginning to do so, having put forward his shoulders and arms to make a first step in advance from the spot on which he was resting, when a hand was put forth from one corner of the cavern’s mouth — a hand armed with a pistol; — and a shot was fired. There could be no doubt now but that Danny Lund was right, and no doubt now as to the whereabouts of Aaron Trow.
A hand was put forth, a pistol was fired, and Caleb Morton still clinging to a corner of the rock with both his arms was seen to falter154. “He is wounded,” said one of the voices from below; and then they all expected to see him fall into the sea. But he did not fall, and after a moment or two, he proceeded carefully to pick his steps along the ledge. The ball had touched him, grazing his cheek, and cutting through the light whiskers that he wore; but he had not felt it, though the blow had nearly knocked him from his perch155. And then four or five shots were fired from the rocks into the mouth of the cavern. The man’s arm had been seen, and indeed one or two declared that they had traced the dim outline of his figure. But no sound was heard to come from the cavern, except the sharp crack of the bullets against the rock, and the echo of the gunpowder156. There had been no groan157 as of a man wounded, no sound of a body falling, no voice wailing in despair. For a few seconds all was dark with the smoke of the gunpowder, and then the empty mouth of the cave was again yawning before their eyes. Morton was now near it, still cautiously creeping. The first danger to which he was exposed was this; that his enemy within the recess158 might push him down from the rocks with a touch. But on the other hand, there were three or four men ready to fire, the moment that a hand should be put forth; and then Morton could swim — was known to be a strong swimmer; — whereas of Aaron Trow it was already declared by the prison gaolers that he could not swim. Two of the warders had now followed Morton on the rocks, so that in the event of his making good his entrance into the cavern, and holding his enemy at bay for a minute, he would be joined by aid.
It was strange to see how those different men conducted themselves as they stood on the opposite platform watching the attack. The officers from the prison had no other thought but of their prisoner, and were intent on taking him alive or dead. To them it was little or nothing what became of Morton. It was their business to encounter peril, and they were ready to do so; — feeling, however, by no means sorry to have such a man as Morton in advance of them. Very little was said by them. They had their wits about them, and remembered that every word spoken for the guidance of their ally would be heard also by the escaped convict. Their prey was sure, sooner or later, and had not Morton been so eager in his pursuit, they would have waited till some plan had been devised of trapping him without danger. But the townsmen from St. George, of whom some dozen were now standing there, were quick and eager and loud in their counsels. “Stay where you are, Mr. Morton — stay awhile for the love of God — or he’ll have you down.” “Now’s your time, Caleb; in on him now, and you’ll have him.” “Close with him, Morton, close with him at once; it’s your only chance.” “There’s four of us here; we’ll fire on him if he as much as shows a limb.” All of which words as they were heard by that poor wretch within, must have sounded to him as the barking of a pack of hounds thirsting for his blood. For him at any rate there was no longer any hope in this world.
My reader, when chance has taken you into the hunting-field, has it ever been your lot to sit by on horseback, and watch the digging out of a fox? The operation is not an uncommon159 one, and in some countries it is held to be in accordance with the rules of fair sport. For myself, I think that when the brute has so far saved himself, he should be entitled to the benefit of his cunning; but I will not now discuss the propriety or impropriety of that practice in venery. I can never, however, watch the doing of that work without thinking much of the agonising struggles of the poor beast whose last refuge is being torn from over his head. There he lies within a few yards of his arch enemy, the huntsman. The thick breath of the hounds make hot the air within his hole. The sound of their voices is close upon his ears. His breast is nearly bursting with the violence of that effort which at last has brought him to his retreat. And then pickaxe and mattock are plied75 above his head, and nearer and more near to him press his foes161 — his double foes, human and canine162 — till at last a huge hand grasps him, and he is dragged forth among his enemies. Almost as soon as his eyes have seen the light the eager noses of a dozen hounds have moistened themselves in his entrails. Ah me! I know that he is vermin, the vermin after whom I have been risking my neck, with a bold ambition that I might ultimately witness his death-struggles; but, nevertheless, I would fain have saved him that last half hour of gradually diminished hope.
And Aaron Trow was now like a hunted fox, doomed163 to be dug out from his last refuge, with this addition to his misery164, that these hounds when they caught their prey, would not put him at once out of his misery. When first he saw that throng165 of men coming down from the hill top and resting on the platform; he knew that his fate was come. When they called to him to surrender himself he was silent, but he knew that his silence was of no avail. To them who were so eager to be his captors the matter seemed to be still one of considerable difficulty; but, to his thinking, there was no difficulty. There were there some score of men, fully39 armed, within twenty yards of him. If he but showed a trace of his limbs he would become a mark for their bullets. And then if he were wounded, and no one would come to him! If they allowed him to lie there without food till he perished! Would it not be well for him to yield himself? Then they called again and he was still silent. That idea of yielding is very terrible to the heart of a man. And when the worst had come to the worst, did not the ocean run deep beneath his cavern’s month?
But as they yelled at him and hallooed, making their preparations for his death, his presence of mind deserted166 the poor wretch. He had stolen an old pistol on one of his marauding expeditions, of which one barrel had been loaded. That in his mad despair he had fired; and now, as he lay near the mouth of the cavern, under the cover of the projecting stone, he had no weapon with him but his hands. He had had a knife, but that had dropped from him during the struggle on the floor of the cottage. He had now nothing but his hands, and was considering how he might best use them in ridding himself of the first of his pursuers. The man was near him, armed, with all the power and majesty167 of right on his side; whereas on his side, Aaron Trow had nothing — not a hope. He raised his head that he might look forth, and a dozen voices shouted as his face appeared above the aperture. A dozen weapons were levelled at him, and he could see the gleaming of the muzzles168 of the guns. And then the foot of his pursuer was already on the corner stone at the cavern’s mouth. “Now, Caleb, on him at once!” shouted a voice. Ah me! it was a moment in which to pity even such a man as Aaron Trow.
“Now, Caleb, at him at once!” shouted the voice. No, by heavens; not so, even yet! The sound of triumph in those words raised the last burst of energy in the breast of that wretched man; and he sprang forth, head foremost, from his prison house. Forth he came, manifest enough before the eyes of them all, and with head well down, and hands outstretched, but with his wide glaring eyes still turned towards his pursuers as he fell, he plunged169 down into the waves beneath him. Two of those who stood by, almost unconscious of what they did, fired at his body as it made its rapid way to the water; but, as they afterwards found, neither of the bullets struck him. Morton, when his prey thus leaped forth, escaping him for awhile, was already on the verge170 of the cavern — had even then prepared his foot for that onward171 spring which should bring him to the throat of his foe160. But he arrested himself, and for a moment stood there watching the body as it struck the water, and hid itself at once beneath the ripple172. He stood there for a moment watching the deed and its effect, and then leaving his hold upon the rock, he once again followed his quarry173. Down he went, head foremost, right on to the track in the waves which the other had made; and when the two rose to the surface together, each was struggling in the grasp of the other.
It was a foolish, nay174, a mad deed to do. The poor wretch who had first fallen could not have escaped. He could not even swim, and had therefore flung himself to certain destruction when he took that leap from out of the cavern’s mouth. It would have been sad to see him perish beneath the waves — to watch him as he rose, gasping for breath, and then to see to him sinking again, to rise again, and then to go for ever. But his life had been fairly forfeit175 — and why should one so much more precious have been flung after it? It was surely with no view of saving that pitiful life that Caleb Morton had leaped after his enemy. But the hound, hot with the chase, will follow the stag over the precipice and dash himself to pieces against the rocks. The beast thirsting for blood will rush in even among the weapons of men. Morton in his fury had felt but one desire, burned with but one passion. If the Fates would but grant him to fix his clutches in the throat of the man who had ill-used his love; for the rest it might all go as it would.
In the earlier part of the morning, while they were all searching for their victim, they had brought a boat up into this very inlet among the rocks; and the same boat had been at hand during the whole day. Unluckily, before they had come hither, it had been taken round the headland to a place among the rocks at which a government skiff is always moored176. The sea was still so quiet that there was hardly a ripple on it, and the boat had been again sent for when first it was supposed that they had at last traced Aaron Trow to his hiding-place. Anxiously now were all eyes turned to the headland, but as yet no boat was there.
The two men rose to the surface, each struggling in the arms of the other. Trow, though he was in an element to which he was not used, though he had sprung thither as another suicide might spring to certain death beneath a railway engine, did not altogether lose his presence of mind. Prompted by a double instinct, he had clutched hold of Morton’s body when he encountered it beneath the waters. He held on to it, as to his only protection, and he held on to him also as to his only enemy. If there was a chance for a life struggle, they would share that chance together; and if not, then together would they meet that other fate.
Caleb Morton was a very strong man, and though one of his arms was altogether encumbered177 by his antagonist, his other arm and his legs were free. With these he seemed to succeed in keeping his head above the water, weighted as he was with the body of his foe. But Trow’s efforts were also used with the view of keeping himself above the water. Though he had purposed to destroy himself in taking that leap, and now hoped for nothing better than that they might both perish together, he yet struggled to keep his head above the waves. Bodily power he had none left to him, except that of holding on to Morton’s arm and plunging178 with his legs; but he did hold on, and thus both their heads remained above the surface.
But this could not last long. It was easy to see that Trow’s strength was nearly spent, and that when he went down Morton must go with him. If indeed they could be separated — if Morton could once make himself free from that embrace into which he had been so anxious to leap — then indeed there might be a hope. All round that little inlet the rock fell sheer down into the deep sea, so that there was no resting-place for a foot; it but round the headlands on either side, even within forty or fifty yards of that spot, Morton might rest on the rocks, till a boat should come to his assistance. To him that distance would have been nothing, if only his limbs had been at liberty.
Upon the platform of rocks they were all at their wits’ ends. Many were anxious to fire at Trow; but even if they hit him, would Morton’s position have been better? Would not the wounded man have still clung to him who was not wounded? And then there could be no certainty that any one of them would hit the right man. The ripple of the waves, though it was very slight, nevertheless sufficed to keep the bodies in motion; and then, too, there was not among them any marksman peculiar179 for his skill.
Morton’s efforts in the water were too severe to admit of his speaking, but he could hear and understand the words which were addressed to him. “Shake him off, Caleb.” “Strike him from you with your foot.” “Swim to the right shore; swim for it, even if you take him with you.” Yes; he could hear them all; but hearing and obeying were very different. It was not easy to shake off that dying man; and as for swimming with him, that was clearly impossible. It was as much as he could do to keep his head above water, let alone any attempt to move in one settled direction.
For some four or five minutes they lay thus battling on the waves before the head of either of them went down. Trow had been twice below the surface, but it was before he had succeeded in supporting himself by Morton’s arm. Now it seemed as though he must sink again — as though both must sink. His mouth was barely kept above the water, and as Morton shook him with his arm, the tide would pass over him. It was horrid to watch from the shore the glaring upturned eyes of the dying wretch, as his long streaming hair lay back upon the wave. “Now, Caleb, hold him down. Hold him under,” was shouted in the voice of some eager friend. Rising up on the water, Morton made a last effort to do as he was bid. He did press the man’s head down — well down below the surface — but still the hand clung to him, and as he struck out against the water, he was powerless against that grasp.
Then there came a loud shout along the shore, and all those on the platform, whose eyes had been fixed so closely on that terrible struggle beneath them, rushed towards the rocks on the other coast. The sound of oars180 was heard close to them — an eager pressing stroke, as of men who knew well that they were rowing for the salvation181 of a life. On they came, close under the rocks, obeying with every muscle of their bodies the behests of those who called to them from the shore. The boat came with such rapidity — was so recklessly urged, that it was driven somewhat beyond the inlet; but in passing, a blow was struck which made Caleb Morton once more the master of his own life. The two men had been carried out in their struggle towards the open sea; and as the boat curved in, so as to be as close as the rocks would allow, the bodies of the men were brought within the sweep of the oars. He in the bow — for there were four pulling in the boat — had raised his oar77 as he neared the rocks — had raised it high above the water; and now, as they passed close by the struggling men, he let it fall with all its force on the upturned face of the wretched convict. It was a terrible, frightful thing to do — thus striking one who was so stricken; but who shall say that the blow was not good and just? Methinks, however, that the eyes and face of that dying man will haunt for ever the dreams of him who carried that oar!
Trow never rose again to the surface. Three days afterwards his body was found at the ferry, and then they carried him to the convict island and buried him. Morton was picked up and taken into the boat. His life was saved; but it may be a question how the battle might have gone had not that friendly oar been raised in his behalf. As it was, he lay at the cottage for days before he was able to be moved, so as to receive the congratulations of those who had watched that terrible conflict from the shore. Nor did he feel that there had been anything in that day’s work of which he could be proud; — much rather of which it behoved him to be thoroughly ashamed. Some six months after that he obtained the hand of Anastasia Bergen, but they did not remain long in Bermuda. “He went away, back to his own country,” my informant told me; “because he could not endure to meet the ghost of Aaron Trow, at that point of the road which passes near the cottage.” That the ghost of Aaron Trow may be seen there and round the little rocky inlet of the sea, is part of the creed182 of every young woman in Bermuda.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
geographers
|
|
| 地理学家( geographer的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
fortress
|
|
| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
civilians
|
|
| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wretches
|
|
| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
encumber
|
|
| v.阻碍行动，妨碍，堆满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
vouch
|
|
| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
constable
|
|
| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
penal
|
|
| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
amenable
|
|
| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
scourged
|
|
| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
scourging
|
|
| 鞭打( scourge的现在分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
skulking
|
|
| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
rife
|
|
| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
vigilant
|
|
| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
gaol
|
|
| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
knolls
|
|
| n.小圆丘，小土墩( knoll的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
creeks
|
|
| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
locomotion
|
|
| n.运动，移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
cedar
|
|
| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
amassed
|
|
| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
amass
|
|
| vt.积累，积聚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
averse
|
|
| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
repent
|
|
| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
propensity
|
|
| n.倾向；习性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
sedulously
|
|
| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
waned
|
|
| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
pittance
|
|
| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
poker
|
|
| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
oar
|
|
| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
tare
|
|
| n.皮重；v.量皮重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
tugging
|
|
| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
craving
|
|
| n.渴望,热望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
morsels
|
|
| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
lair
|
|
| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
brutes
|
|
| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
redeemed
|
|
| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
imploring
|
|
| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
loathe
|
|
| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
wailing
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
talons
|
|
| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
pinioned
|
|
| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
forefinger
|
|
| n.食指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
sockets
|
|
| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
antagonist
|
|
| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
gushed
|
|
| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
steadfast
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
bribe
|
|
| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
clotted
|
|
| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
liberated
|
|
| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
gasping
|
|
| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
miscreant
|
|
| n.恶棍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
doctrines
|
|
| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
constables
|
|
| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
avenged
|
|
| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
congregated
|
|
| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
ascend
|
|
| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
ascended
|
|
| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
precipice
|
|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
brink
|
|
| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
aperture
|
|
| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
friction
|
|
| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
ascent
|
|
| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
adversary
|
|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
slaughter
|
|
| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
falter
|
|
| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
perch
|
|
| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
gunpowder
|
|
| n.火药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
foe
|
|
| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
foes
|
|
| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
canine
|
|
| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
muzzles
|
|
| 枪口( muzzle的名词复数 )； （防止动物咬人的）口套； （四足动物的）鼻口部； （狗）等凸出的鼻子和口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
quarry
|
|
| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
forfeit
|
|
| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
moored
|
|
| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
encumbered
|
|
| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
plunging
|
|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
oars
|
|
| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
salvation
|
|
| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |