Mercantile Jack is having his brains slowly knocked out by penny-weights, aboard the brig Beelzebub, or the barque Bowie-knife — when he looks his last at that infernal craft, with the first officer’s iron boot-heel in his remaining eye, or with his dying body towed overboard in the ship’s wake, while the cruel wounds in it do ‘the multitudinous seas incarnadine’?
Is it unreasonable3 to entertain a belief that if, aboard the brig Beelzebub or the barque Bowie-knife, the first officer did half the damage to cotton that he does to men, there would presently arise from both sides of the Atlantic so vociferous4 an invocation of the sweet little cherub who sits calculating aloft, keeping watch on the markets that pay, that such vigilant5 cherub would, with a winged sword, have that gallant6 officer’s organ of destructiveness out of his head in the space of a flash of lightning?
If it be unreasonable, then am I the most unreasonable of men, for I believe it with all my soul.
This was my thought as I walked the dock-quays7 at Liverpool, keeping watch on poor Mercantile Jack. Alas8 for me! I have long outgrown9 the state of sweet little cherub; but there I was, and there Mercantile Jack was, and very busy he was, and very cold he was: the snow yet lying in the frozen furrows10 of the land, and the north-east winds snipping11 off the tops of the little waves in the Mersey, and rolling them into hailstones to pelt12 him with. Mercantile Jack was hard at it, in the hard weather: as he mostly is in all weathers, poor Jack. He was girded to ships’ masts and funnels13 of steamers, like a forester to a great oak, scraping and painting; he was lying out on yards, furling sails that tried to beat him off; he was dimly discernible up in a world of giant cobwebs, reefing and splicing14; he was faintly audible down in holds, stowing and unshipping cargo15; he was winding16 round and round at capstans melodious17, monotonous18, and drunk; he was of a diabolical19 aspect, with coaling for the Antipodes; he was washing decks barefoot, with the breast of his red shirt open to the blast, though it was sharper than the knife in his leathern girdle; he was looking over bulwarks20, all eyes and hair; he was standing21 by at the shoot of the Cunard steamer, off to-morrow, as the stocks in trade of several butchers, poulterers, and fishmongers, poured down into the ice-house; he was coming aboard of other vessels22, with his kit23 in a tarpaulin24 bag, attended by plunderers to the very last moment of his shore-going existence. As though his senses, when released from the uproar25 of the elements, were under obligation to be confused by other turmoil26, there was a rattling27 of wheels, a clattering28 of hoofs29, a clashing of iron, a jolting30 of cotton and hides and casks and timber, an incessant31 deafening32 disturbance33 on the quays, that was the very madness of sound. And as, in the midst of it, he stood swaying about, with his hair blown all manner of wild ways, rather crazedly taking leave of his plunderers, all the rigging in the docks was shrill34 in the wind, and every little steamer coming and going across the Mersey was sharp in its blowing off, and every buoy35 in the river bobbed spitefully up and down, as if there were a general taunting36 chorus of ‘Come along, Mercantile Jack! Ill-lodged, ill-fed, ill-used, hocussed, entrapped37, anticipated, cleaned out. Come along, Poor Mercantile Jack, and be tempest-tossed till you are drowned!’
The uncommercial transaction which had brought me and Jack together, was this:— I had entered the Liverpool police force, that I might have a look at the various unlawful traps which are every night set for Jack. As my term of service in that distinguished38 corps39 was short, and as my personal bias40 in the capacity of one of its members has ceased, no suspicion will attach to my evidence that it is an admirable force. Besides that it is composed, without favour, of the best men that can be picked, it is directed by an unusual intelligence. Its organisation43 against Fires, I take to be much better than the metropolitan44 system, and in all respects it tempers its remarkable45 vigilance with a still more remarkable discretion46.
Jack had knocked off work in the docks some hours, and I had taken, for purposes of identification, a photograph-likeness47 of a thief, in the portrait-room at our head police office (on the whole, he seemed rather complimented by the proceeding), and I had been on police parade, and the small hand of the clock was moving on to ten, when I took up my lantern to follow Mr. Superintendent48 to the traps that were set for Jack. In Mr. Superintendent I saw, as anybody might, a tall, well-looking, well-set-up man of a soldierly bearing, with a cavalry49 air, a good chest, and a resolute50 but not by any means ungentle face. He carried in his hand a plain black walking-stick of hard wood; and whenever and wherever, at any after-time of the night, he struck it on the pavement with a ringing sound, it instantly produced a whistle out of the darkness, and a policeman. To this remarkable stick, I refer an air of mystery and magic which pervaded51 the whole of my perquisition among the traps that were set for Jack.
We began by diving into the obscurest streets and lanes of the port. Suddenly pausing in a flow of cheerful discourse52, before a dead wall, apparently53 some ten miles long, Mr. Superintendent struck upon the ground, and the wall opened and shot out, with military salute54 of hand to temple, two policemen — not in the least surprised themselves, not in the least surprising Mr. Superintendent.
‘All right, Sharpeye?’
‘All right, sir.’
‘All right, Trampfoot?’
‘All right, sir.’
‘Is Quickear there?’
‘Here am I, sir.’
‘Come with us.’
‘Yes, sir.’
So, Sharpeye went before, and Mr. Superintendent and I went next, and Trampfoot and Quickear marched as rear-guard. Sharp-eye, I soon had occasion to remark, had a skilful55 and quite professional way of opening doors — touched latches56 delicately, as if they were keys of musical instruments — opened every door he touched, as if he were perfectly58 confident that there was stolen property behind it — instantly insinuated60 himself, to prevent its being shut.
Sharpeye opened several doors of traps that were set for Jack, but Jack did not happen to be in any of them. They were all such miserable61 places that really, Jack, if I were you, I would give them a wider berth62. In every trap, somebody was sitting over a fire, waiting for Jack. Now, it was a crouching63 old woman, like the picture of the Norwood Gipsy in the old sixpenny dream-books; now, it was a crimp of the male sex, in a checked shirt and without a coat, reading a newspaper; now, it was a man crimp and a woman crimp, who always introduced themselves as united in holy matrimony; now, it was Jack’s delight, his (un)lovely Nan; but they were all waiting for Jack, and were all frightfully disappointed to see us.
‘Who have you got up-stairs here?’ says Sharpeye, generally. (In the Move-on tone.)
‘Nobody, surr; sure not a blessed sowl!’ (Irish feminine reply.)
‘What do you mean by nobody? Didn’t I hear a woman’s step go up-stairs when my hand was on the latch57?’
‘Ah! sure thin you’re right, surr, I forgot her! ’Tis on’y Betsy White, surr. Ah! you know Betsy, surr. Come down, Betsy darlin’, and say the gintlemin.’
Generally, Betsy looks over the banisters (the steep staircase is in the room) with a forcible expression in her protesting face, of an intention to compensate64 herself for the present trial by grinding Jack finer than usual when he does come. Generally, Sharpeye turns to Mr. Superintendent, and says, as if the subjects of his remarks were wax-work:
‘One of the worst, sir, this house is. This woman has been indicted65 three times. This man’s a regular bad one likewise. His real name is Pegg. Gives himself out as Waterhouse.’
‘Never had sitch a name as Pegg near me back, thin, since I was in this house, bee the good Lard!’ says the woman.
Generally, the man says nothing at all, but becomes exceedingly round-shouldered, and pretends to read his paper with rapt attention. Generally, Sharpeye directs our observation with a look, to the prints and pictures that are invariably numerous on the walls. Always, Trampfoot and Quickear are taking notice on the doorstep. In default of Sharpeye being acquainted with the exact individuality of any gentleman encountered, one of these two is sure to proclaim from the outer air, like a gruff spectre, that Jackson is not Jackson, but knows himself to be Fogle; or that Canlon is Walker’s brother, against whom there was not sufficient evidence; or that the man who says he never was at sea since he was a boy, came ashore66 from a voyage last Thursday, or sails tomorrow morning. ‘And that is a bad class of man, you see,’ says Mr. Superintendent, when he got out into the dark again, ‘and very difficult to deal with, who, when he has made this place too hot to hold him, enters himself for a voyage as steward67 or cook, and is out of knowledge for months, and then turns up again worse than ever.’
When we had gone into many such houses, and had come out (always leaving everybody relapsing into waiting for Jack), we started off to a singing-house where Jack was expected to muster68 strong.
The vocalisation was taking place in a long low room up-stairs; at one end, an orchestra of two performers, and a small platform; across the room, a series of open pews for Jack, with an aisle69 down the middle; at the other end a larger pew than the rest, entitled SNUG70, and reserved for mates and similar good company. About the room, some amazing coffee-coloured pictures varnished71 an inch deep, and some stuffed creatures in cases; dotted among the audience, in Sung and out of Snug, the ‘Professionals;’ among them, the celebrated72 comic favourite Mr. Banjo Bones, looking very hideous73 with his blackened face and limp sugar-loaf hat; beside him, sipping74 rum-and-water, Mrs. Banjo Bones, in her natural colours — a little heightened.
It was a Friday night, and Friday night was considered not a good night for Jack. At any rate, Jack did not show in very great force even here, though the house was one to which he much resorts, and where a good deal of money is taken. There was British Jack, a little maudlin75 and sleepy, lolling over his empty glass, as if he were trying to read his fortune at the bottom; there was Loafing Jack of the Stars and Stripes, rather an unpromising customer, with his long nose, lank77 cheek, high cheek-bones, and nothing soft about him but his cabbage-leaf hat; there was Spanish Jack, with curls of black hair, rings in his ears, and a knife not far from his hand, if you got into trouble with him; there were Maltese Jack, and Jack of Sweden, and Jack the Finn, looming78 through the smoke of their pipes, and turning faces that looked as if they were carved out of dark wood, towards the young lady dancing the hornpipe: who found the platform so exceedingly small for it, that I had a nervous expectation of seeing her, in the backward steps, disappear through the window. Still, if all hands had been got together, they would not have more than half-filled the room. Observe, however, said Mr. Licensed79 Victualler, the host, that it was Friday night, and, besides, it was getting on for twelve, and Jack had gone aboard. A sharp and watchful80 man, Mr. Licensed Victualler, the host, with tight lips and a complete edition of Cocker’s arithmetic in each eye. Attended to his business himself, he said. Always on the spot. When he heard of talent, trusted nobody’s account of it, but went off by rail to see it. If true talent, engaged it. Pounds a week for talent — four pound — five pound. Banjo Bones was undoubted talent. Hear this instrument that was going to play — it was real talent! In truth it was very good; a kind of piano-accordion, played by a young girl of a delicate prettiness of face, figure, and dress, that made the audience look coarser. She sang to the instrument, too; first, a song about village bells, and how they chimed; then a song about how I went to sea; winding up with an imitation of the bagpipes81, which Mercantile Jack seemed to understand much the best. A good girl, said Mr. Licensed Victualler. Kept herself select. Sat in Snug, not listening to the blandishments of Mates. Lived with mother. Father dead. Once a merchant well to do, but over-speculated himself. On delicate inquiry82 as to salary paid for item of talent under consideration, Mr. Victualler’s pounds dropped suddenly to shillings — still it was a very comfortable thing for a young person like that, you know; she only went on six times a night, and was only required to be there from six at night to twelve. What was more conclusive83 was, Mr. Victualler’s assurance that he ‘never allowed any language, and never suffered any disturbance.’ Sharpeye confirmed the statement, and the order that prevailed was the best proof of it that could have been cited. So, I came to the conclusion that poor Mercantile Jack might do (as I am afraid he does) much worse than trust himself to Mr. Victualler, and pass his evenings here.
But we had not yet looked, Mr. Superintendent — said Trampfoot, receiving us in the street again with military salute — for Dark Jack. True, Trampfoot. Ring the wonderful stick, rub the wonderful lantern, and cause the spirits of the stick and lantern to convey us to the Darkies.
There was no disappointment in the matter of Dark Jack; HE was producible. The Genii set us down in the little first floor of a little public-house, and there, in a stiflingly84 close atmosphere, were Dark Jack, and Dark Jack’s delight, his WHITE unlovely Nan, sitting against the wall all round the room. More than that: Dark Jack’s delight was the least unlovely Nan, both morally and physically85, that I saw that night.
As a fiddle86 and tambourine87 band were sitting among the company, Quickear suggested why not strike up? ‘Ah, la’ads!’ said a negro sitting by the door, ‘gib the jebblem a darnse. Tak’ yah pardlers, jebblem, for ’um QUAD-rill.’
This was the landlord, in a Greek cap, and a dress half Greek and half English. As master of the ceremonies, he called all the figures, and occasionally addressed himself parenthetically — after this manner. When he was very loud, I use capitals.
‘Now den41! Hoy! ONE. Right and left. (Put a steam on, gib ’um powder.) LA-dies’ chail. BAL-loon say. Lemonade! TWO. AD-warnse and go back (gib ’ell a breakdown88, shake it out o’ yerselbs, keep a movil). SWING-corners, BAL-loon say, and Lemonade! (Hoy!) THREE. GENT come for’ard with a lady and go back, hoppersite come for’ard and do what yer can. (Aeiohoy!) BAL-loon say, and leetle lemonade. (Dat hair nigger by ’um fireplace ‘hind a’ time, shake it out o’ yerselbs, gib ’ell a breakdown.) Now den! Hoy! FOUR! Lemonade. BAL-loon say, and swing. FOUR ladies meet in ’um middle, FOUR gents goes round ’um ladies, FOUR gents passes out under ’um ladies’ arms, SWING— and Lemonade till ’a moosic can’t play no more! (Hoy, Hoy!)’
The male dancers were all blacks, and one was an unusually powerful man of six feet three or four. The sound of their flat feet on the floor was as unlike the sound of white feet as their faces were unlike white faces. They toed and heeled, shuffled89, double-shuffled, double-double-shuffled, covered the buckle90, and beat the time out, rarely, dancing with a great show of teeth, and with a childish good-humoured enjoyment91 that was very prepossessing. They generally kept together, these poor fellows, said Mr. Superintendent, because they were at a disadvantage singly, and liable to slights in the neighbouring streets. But, if I were Light Jack, I should be very slow to interfere92 oppressively with Dark Jack, for, whenever I have had to do with him I have found him a simple and a gentle fellow. Bearing this in mind, I asked his friendly permission to leave him restoration of beer, in wishing him good night, and thus it fell out that the last words I heard him say as I blundered down the worn stairs, were, ‘Jebblem’s elth! Ladies drinks fust!’
The night was now well on into the morning, but, for miles and hours we explored a strange world, where nobody ever goes to bed, but everybody is eternally sitting up, waiting for Jack. This exploration was among a labyrinth93 of dismal94 courts and blind alleys95, called Entries, kept in wonderful order by the police, and in much better order than by the corporation: the want of gaslight in the most dangerous and infamous97 of these places being quite unworthy of so spirited a town. I need describe but two or three of the houses in which Jack was waited for as specimens99 of the rest. Many we attained100 by noisome101 passages so profoundly dark that we felt our way with our hands. Not one of the whole number we visited, was without its show of prints and ornamental102 crockery; the quantity of the latter set forth103 on little shelves and in little cases, in otherwise wretched rooms, indicating that Mercantile Jack must have an extraordinary fondness for crockery, to necessitate104 so much of that bait in his traps.
Among such garniture, in one front parlour in the dead of the night, four women were sitting by a fire. One of them had a male child in her arms. On a stool among them was a swarthy youth with a guitar, who had evidently stopped playing when our footsteps were heard.
‘Well I how do YOU do?’ says Mr. Superintendent, looking about him.
‘Pretty well, sir, and hope you gentlemen are going to treat us ladies, now you have come to see us.’
‘Order there!’ says Sharpeye.
‘None of that!’ says Quickear.
Trampfoot, outside, is heard to confide59 to himself, ‘Meggisson’s lot this is. And a bad ’un!’
‘Well!’ says Mr. Superintendent, laying his hand on the shoulder of the swarthy youth, ‘and who’s this?’
‘Antonio, sir.’
‘And what does HE do here?’
‘Come to give us a bit of music. No harm in that, I suppose?’
‘A young foreign sailor?’
‘Yes. He’s a Spaniard. You’re a Spaniard, ain’t you, Antonio?’
‘Me Spanish.’
‘And he don’t know a word you say, not he; not if you was to talk to him till doomsday.’ (Triumphantly, as if it redounded105 to the credit of the house.)
‘Will he play something?’
‘Oh, yes, if you like. Play something, Antonio. YOU ain’t ashamed to play something; are you?’
The cracked guitar raises the feeblest ghost of a tune76, and three of the women keep time to it with their heads, and the fourth with the child. If Antonio has brought any money in with him, I am afraid he will never take it out, and it even strikes me that his jacket and guitar may be in a bad way. But, the look of the young man and the tinkling106 of the instrument so change the place in a moment to a leaf out of Don Quixote, that I wonder where his mule107 is stabled, until he leaves off.
I am bound to acknowledge (as it tends rather to my uncommercial confusion), that I occasioned a difficulty in this establishment, by having taken the child in my arms. For, on my offering to restore it to a ferocious108 joker not unstimulated by rum, who claimed to be its mother, that unnatural109 parent put her hands behind her, and declined to accept it; backing into the fireplace, and very shrilly110 declaring, regardless of remonstrance111 from her friends, that she knowed it to be Law, that whoever took a child from its mother of his own will, was bound to stick to it. The uncommercial sense of being in a rather ridiculous position with the poor little child beginning to be frightened, was relieved by my worthy98 friend and fellow-constable, Trampfoot; who, laying hands on the article as if it were a Bottle, passed it on to the nearest woman, and bade her ‘take hold of that.’ As we came out the Bottle was passed to the ferocious joker, and they all sat down as before, including Antonio and the guitar. It was clear that there was no such thing as a nightcap to this baby’s head, and that even he never went to bed, but was always kept up — and would grow up, kept up — waiting for Jack.
Later still in the night, we came (by the court ‘where the man was murdered,’ and by the other court across the street, into which his body was dragged) to another parlour in another Entry, where several people were sitting round a fire in just the same way. It was a dirty and offensive place, with some ragged112 clothes drying in it; but there was a high shelf over the entrance-door (to be out of the reach of marauding hands, possibly) with two large white loaves on it, and a great piece of Cheshire cheese.
‘Well!’ says Mr. Superintendent, with a comprehensive look all round. ‘How do YOU do?’
‘Not much to boast of, sir.’ From the curtseying woman of the house. ‘This is my good man, sir.’
‘You are not registered as a common Lodging113 House?’
‘No, sir.’
Sharpeye (in the Move-on tone) puts in the pertinent114 inquiry, ‘Then why ain’t you?’
‘Ain’t got no one here, Mr. Sharpeye,’ rejoin the woman and my good man together, ‘but our own family.’
‘How many are you in family?’
The woman takes time to count, under pretence115 of coughing, and adds, as one scant116 of breath, ‘Seven, sir.’
But she has missed one, so Sharpeye, who knows all about it, says:
‘Here’s a young man here makes eight, who ain’t of your family?’
‘No, Mr. Sharpeye, he’s a weekly lodger117.’
‘What does he do for a living?’
The young man here, takes the reply upon himself, and shortly answers, ‘Ain’t got nothing to do.’
The young man here, is modestly brooding behind a damp apron118 pendent from a clothes-line. As I glance at him I become — but I don’t know why — vaguely119 reminded of Woolwich, Chatham, Portsmouth, and Dover. When we get out, my respected fellow-constable Sharpeye, addressing Mr. Superintendent, says:
‘You noticed that young man, sir, in at Darby’s?’
‘Yes. What is he?’
‘Deserter, sir.’
Mr. Sharpeye further intimates that when we have done with his services, he will step back and take that young man. Which in course of time he does: feeling at perfect ease about finding him, and knowing for a moral certainty that nobody in that region will be gone to bed.
Later still in the night, we came to another parlour up a step or two from the street, which was very cleanly, neatly120, even tastefully, kept, and in which, set forth on a draped chest of drawers masking the staircase, was such a profusion121 of ornamental crockery, that it would have furnished forth a handsome sale-booth at a fair. It backed up a stout122 old lady — HOGARTH drew her exact likeness more than once — and a boy who was carefully writing a copy in a copy-book.
‘Well, ma’am, how do YOU do?’
Sweetly, she can assure the dear gentlemen, sweetly. Charmingly, charmingly. And overjoyed to see us!
‘Why, this is a strange time for this boy to be writing his copy. In the middle of the night!’
‘So it is, dear gentlemen, Heaven bless your welcome faces and send ye prosperous, but he has been to the Play with a young friend for his diversion, and he combinates his improvement with entertainment, by doing his school-writing afterwards, God be good to ye!’
The copy admonished123 human nature to subjugate124 the fire of every fierce desire. One might have thought it recommended stirring the fire, the old lady so approved it. There she sat, rosily125 beaming at the copy-book and the boy, and invoking126 showers of blessings127 on our heads, when we left her in the middle of the night, waiting for Jack.
Later still in the night, we came to a nauseous room with an earth floor, into which the refuse scum of an alley96 trickled128. The stench of this habitation was abominable129; the seeming poverty of it, diseased and dire42. Yet, here again, was visitor or lodger — a man sitting before the fire, like the rest of them elsewhere, and apparently not distasteful to the mistress’s niece, who was also before the fire. The mistress herself had the misfortune of being in jail.
Three weird130 old women of transcendent ghastliness, were at needlework at a table in this room. Says Trampfoot to First Witch, ‘What are you making?’ Says she, ‘Money-bags.’
‘WHAT are you making?’ retorts Trampfoot, a little off his balance.
‘Bags to hold your money,’ says the witch, shaking her head, and setting her teeth; ‘you as has got it.’
She holds up a common cash-bag, and on the table is a heap of such bags. Witch Two laughs at us. Witch Three scowls131 at us. Witch sisterhood all, stitch, stitch. First Witch has a circle round each eye. I fancy it like the beginning of the development of a perverted132 diabolical halo, and that when it spreads all round her head, she will die in the odour of devilry.
Trampfoot wishes to be informed what First Witch has got behind the table, down by the side of her, there? Witches Two and Three croak133 angrily, ‘Show him the child!’
She drags out a skinny little arm from a brown dustheap on the ground. Adjured134 not to disturb the child, she lets it drop again. Thus we find at last that there is one child in the world of Entries who goes to bed — if this be bed.
Mr. Superintendent asks how long are they going to work at those bags?
How long? First Witch repeats. Going to have supper presently. See the cups and saucers, and the plates.
‘Late? Ay! But we has to ’arn our supper afore we eats it!’ Both the other witches repeat this after First Witch, and take the Uncommercial measurement with their eyes, as for a charmed winding-sheet. Some grim discourse ensues, referring to the mistress of the cave, who will be released from jail to-morrow. Witches pronounce Trampfoot ‘right there,’ when he deems it a trying distance for the old lady to walk; she shall be fetched by niece in a spring-cart.
As I took a parting look at First Witch in turning away, the red marks round her eyes seemed to have already grown larger, and she hungrily and thirstily looked out beyond me into the dark doorway135, to see if Jack was there. For, Jack came even here, and the mistress had got into jail through deluding136 Jack.
When I at last ended this night of travel and got to bed, I failed to keep my mind on comfortable thoughts of Seaman’s Homes (not overdone137 with strictness), and improved dock regulations giving Jack greater benefit of fire and candle aboard ship, through my mind’s wandering among the vermin I had seen. Afterwards the same vermin ran all over my sleep. Evermore, when on a breezy day I see Poor Mercantile Jack running into port with a fair wind under all sail, I shall think of the unsleeping host of devourers who never go to bed, and are always in their set traps waiting for him.
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1
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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2
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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7
quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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10
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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11
snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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splicing
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| n.编接（绳）；插接；捻接；叠接v.绞接( splice的现在分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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21
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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22
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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23
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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24
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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25
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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26
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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27
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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28
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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29
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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30
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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31
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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32
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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33
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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34
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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35
buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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36
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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37
entrapped
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| v.使陷入圈套，使入陷阱( entrap的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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39
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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40
bias
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| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
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41
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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42
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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43
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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44
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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45
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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46
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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47
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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48
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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49
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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50
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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51
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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53
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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54
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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55
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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56
latches
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| n.（门窗的）门闩( latch的名词复数 )；碰锁v.理解( latch的第三人称单数 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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57
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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58
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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59
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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60
insinuated
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| v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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61
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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62
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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63
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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64
compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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65
indicted
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| 控告，起诉( indict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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67
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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68
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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69
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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70
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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71
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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72
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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73
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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74
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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75
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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76
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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77
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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78
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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79
licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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80
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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81
bagpipes
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| n.风笛；风笛( bagpipe的名词复数 ) | |
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82
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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83
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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84
stiflingly
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| adv. 令人窒息地(气闷地，沉闷地) | |
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85
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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86
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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87
tambourine
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓 | |
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88
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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89
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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90
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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91
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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92
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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93
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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94
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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95
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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96
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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97
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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98
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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99
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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100
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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101
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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102
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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103
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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104
necessitate
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| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
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105
redounded
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| v.有助益( redound的过去式和过去分词 )；及于；报偿；报应 | |
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106
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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107
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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108
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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109
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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110
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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111
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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112
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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113
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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114
pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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115
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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116
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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117
lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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118
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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119
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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120
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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121
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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123
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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124
subjugate
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| v.征服；抑制 | |
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125
rosily
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| adv.带玫瑰色地，乐观地 | |
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126
invoking
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| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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127
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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128
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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129
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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130
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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131
scowls
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| 不悦之色，怒容( scowl的名词复数 ) | |
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132
perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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133
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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134
adjured
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| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
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135
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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136
deluding
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的现在分词 ) | |
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137
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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