In these hot and healthy islands winter is but a name. The rain had not refreshed, nor could the wind invigorate, the dwellers5 of Tai-o-hae: away at one end, indeed, the commandant was directing some changes in the residency garden beyond Prison Hill; and the gardeners, being all convicts, had no choice but to continue to obey. All other folks slumbered6 and took their rest: Vaekehu, the native queen, in her trim house under the rustling8 palms; the Tahitian commissary, in his beflagged official residence; the merchants, in their deserted9 stores; and even the club-servant in the club, his head fallen forward on the bottle-counter, under the map of the world and the cards of navy officers. In the whole length of the single shoreside street, with its scattered10 board houses looking to the sea, its grateful shade of palms and green jungle of puraos, no moving figure could be seen. Only, at the end of the rickety pier11, that once (in the prosperous days of the American rebellion) was used to groan12 under the cotton of John Hart, there might have been spied upon a pile of lumber7 the famous tattooed13 white man, the living curiosity of Tai-o-hae.
His eyes were open, staring down the bay. He saw the mountains droop14, as they approached the entrance, and break down in cliffs; the surf boil white round the two sentinel islets; and between, on the narrow bight of blue horizon, Ua-pu upraise the ghost of her pinnacled15 mountain tops. But his mind would take no account of these familiar features; as he dodged16 in and out along the frontier line of sleep and waking, memory would serve him with broken fragments of the past: brown faces and white, of skipper and shipmate, king and chief, would arise before his mind and vanish; he would recall old voyages, old landfalls in the hour of dawn; he would hear again the drums beat for a man-eating festival; perhaps he would summon up the form of that island princess for the love of whom he had submitted his body to the cruel hands of the tattooer17, and now sat on the lumber, at the pier-end of Tai-o-hae, so strange a figure of a European. Or perhaps from yet further back, sounds and scents18 of England and his childhood might assail19 him: the merry clamour of cathedral bells, the broom upon the foreland, the song of the river on the weir20.
It is bold water at the mouth of the bay; you can steer21 a ship about either sentinel, close enough to toss a biscuit on the rocks. Thus it chanced that, as the tattooed man sat dozing22 and dreaming, he was startled into wakefulness and animation23 by the appearance of a flying jib beyond the western islet. Two more headsails followed; and before the tattooed man had scrambled24 to his feet, a topsail schooner, of some hundred tons, had luffed about the sentinel and was standing25 up the bay, close-hauled.
The sleeping city awakened26 by enchantment27. Natives appeared upon all sides, hailing each other with the magic cry “Ehippy” — ship; the Queen stepped forth28 on her verandah, shading her eyes under a hand that was a miracle of the fine art of tattooing29; the commandant broke from his domestic convicts and ran into the residency for his glass; the harbour master, who was also the gaoler, came speeding down the Prison Hill; the seventeen brown Kanakas and the French boatswain’s mate, that make up the complement30 of the war-schooner, crowded on the forward deck; and the various English, Americans, Germans, Poles, Corsicans, and Scots — the merchants and the clerks of Tai-o-hae — deserted their places of business, and gathered, according to invariable custom, on the road before the club.
So quickly did these dozen whites collect, so short are the distances in Tai-o-hae, that they were already exchanging guesses as to the nationality and business of the strange vessel31, before she had gone about upon her second board towards the anchorage. A moment after, English colours were broken out at the main truck.
“I told you she was a Johnny Bull — knew it by her headsails,” said an evergreen32 old salt, still qualified33 (if he could anywhere have found an owner unacquainted with his story) to adorn34 another quarter-deck and lose another ship.
“She has American lines, anyway,” said the astute35 Scots engineer of the gin-mill; “it’s my belief she’s a yacht.”
“That’s it,” said the old salt, “a yacht! look at her davits, and the boat over the stern.”
“A yacht in your eye!” said a Glasgow voice. “Look at her red ensign! A yacht! not much she isn’t!”
“You can close the store, anyway, Tom,” observed a gentlemanly German. “Bon jour, mon Prince!” he added, as a dark, intelligent native cantered by on a neat chestnut36. “Vous allez boire un verre de biere?”
But Prince Stanilas Moanatini, the only reasonably busy human creature on the island, was riding hot-spur to view this morning’s landslip on the mountain road: the sun already visibly declined; night was imminent37; and if he would avoid the perils38 of darkness and precipice39, and the fear of the dead, the haunters of the jungle, he must for once decline a hospitable40 invitation. Even had he been minded to alight, it presently appeared there would be difficulty as to the refreshment41 offered.
“Beer!” cried the Glasgow voice. “No such a thing; I tell you there’s only eight bottles in the club! Here’s the first time I’ve seen British colours in this port! and the man that sails under them has got to drink that beer.”
The proposal struck the public mind as fair, though far from cheering; for some time back, indeed, the very name of beer had been a sound of sorrow in the club, and the evenings had passed in dolorous42 computation.
“Here is Havens43,” said one, as if welcoming a fresh topic. “What do you think of her, Havens?”
“I don’t think,” replied Havens, a tall, bland44, cool-looking, leisurely45 Englishman, attired46 in spotless duck, and deliberately47 dealing48 with a cigarette. “I may say I know. She’s consigned49 to me from Auckland by Donald & Edenborough. I am on my way aboard.”
“What ship is she?” asked the ancient mariner50.
“Haven’t an idea,” returned Havens. “Some tramp they have chartered.”
With that he placidly51 resumed his walk, and was soon seated in the stern-sheets of a whaleboat manned by uproarious Kanakas, himself daintily perched out of the way of the least maculation, giving his commands in an unobtrusive, dinner-table tone of voice, and sweeping53 neatly54 enough alongside the schooner.
A weather-beaten captain received him at the gangway.
“You are consigned to us, I think,” said he. “I am Mr. Havens.”
“That is right, sir,” replied the captain, shaking hands. “You will find the owner, Mr. Dodd, below. Mind the fresh paint on the house.”
Havens stepped along the alley-way, and descended55 the ladder into the main cabin.
“Mr. Dodd, I believe,” said he, addressing a smallish, bearded gentleman, who sat writing at the table. “Why,” he cried, “it isn’t Loudon Dodd?”
“Myself, my dear fellow,” replied Mr. Dodd, springing to his feet with companionable alacrity56. “I had a half-hope it might be you, when I found your name on the papers. Well, there’s no change in you; still the same placid52, fresh-looking Britisher.”
“I can’t return the compliment; for you seem to have become a Britisher yourself,” said Havens.
“I promise you, I am quite unchanged,” returned Dodd. “The red tablecloth57 at the top of the stick is not my flag; it’s my partner’s. He is not dead, but sleepeth. There he is,” he added, pointing to a bust58 which formed one of the numerous unexpected ornaments59 of that unusual cabin.
Havens politely studied it. “A fine bust,” said he; “and a very nice-looking fellow.”
“Yes; he’s a good fellow,” said Dodd. “He runs me now. It’s all his money.”
“He doesn’t seem to be particularly short of it,” added the other, peering with growing wonder round the cabin.
“His money, my taste,” said Dodd. “The black-walnut bookshelves are Old English; the books all mine — mostly Renaissance60 French. You should see how the beach-combers wilt61 away when they go round them looking for a change of Seaside Library novels. The mirrors are genuine Venice; that’s a good piece in the corner. The daubs are mine — and his; the mudding mine.”
“Mudding? What is that?” asked Havens.
“These bronzes,” replied Dodd. “I began life as a sculptor62.”
“Yes; I remember something about that,” said the other. “I think, too, you said you were interested in Californian real estate.”
“Surely, I never went so far as that,” said Dodd. “Interested? I guess not. Involved, perhaps. I was born an artist; I never took an interest in anything but art. If I were to pile up this old schooner to-morrow,” he added, “I declare I believe I would try the thing again!”
“Insured?” inquired Havens.
“Yes,” responded Dodd. “There’s some fool in ‘Frisco who insures us, and comes down like a wolf on the fold on the profits; but we’ll get even with him some day.”
“Well, I suppose it’s all right about the cargo,” said Havens.
“O, I suppose so!” replied Dodd. “Shall we go into the papers?”
“We’ll have all to-morrow, you know,” said Havens; “and they’ll be rather expecting you at the club. C’est l’heure de l’absinthe. Of course, Loudon, you’ll dine with me later on?”
Mr. Dodd signified his acquiescence63; drew on his white coat, not without a trifling64 difficulty, for he was a man of middle age, and well-to-do; arranged his beard and moustaches at one of the Venetian mirrors; and, taking a broad felt hat, led the way through the trade-room into the ship’s waist.
The stern boat was waiting alongside — a boat of an elegant model, with cushions and polished hard-wood fittings.
“You steer,” observed Loudon. “You know the best place to land.”
“I never like to steer another man’s boat,” replied Havens.
“Call it my partner’s, and cry quits,” returned Loudon, getting nonchalantly down the side.
Havens followed and took the yoke65 lines without further protest. “I am sure I don’t know how you make this pay,” he said. “To begin with, she is too big for the trade, to my taste; and then you carry so much style.”
“I don’t know that she does pay,” returned Loudon. “I never pretend to be a business man. My partner appears happy; and the money is all his, as I told you — I only bring the want of business habits.”
“You rather like the berth66, I suppose?” suggested Havens.
“Yes,” said Loudon; “it seems odd, but I rather do.”
While they were yet on board, the sun had dipped; the sunset gun (a rifle) cracked from the war-schooner, and the colours had been handed down. Dusk was deepening as they came ashore67; and the Cercle Internationale (as the club is officially and significantly named) began to shine, from under its low verandas68, with the light of many lamps. The good hours of the twenty-four drew on; the hateful, poisonous day-fly of Nukahiva, was beginning to desist from its activity; the land-breeze came in refreshing69 draughts70; and the club men gathered together for the hour of absinthe. To the commandant himself, to the man whom he was then contending with at billiards71 — a trader from the next island, honorary member of the club, and once carpenter’s mate on board a Yankee war-ship — to the doctor of the port, to the Brigadier of Gendarmerie, to the opium72 farmer, and to all the white men whom the tide of commerce, or the chances of shipwreck73 and desertion, had stranded75 on the beach of Tai-o-hae, Mr. Loudon Dodd was formally presented; by all (since he was a man of pleasing exterior76, smooth ways, and an unexceptionable flow of talk, whether in French or English) he was excellently well received; and presently, with one of the last eight bottles of beer on a table at his elbow, found himself the rather silent centre-piece of a voluble group on the verandah.
Talk in the South Seas is all upon one pattern; it is a wide ocean, indeed, but a narrow world: you shall never talk long and not hear the name of Bully77 Hayes, a naval78 hero whose exploits and deserved extinction79 left Europe cold; commerce will be touched on, copra, shell, perhaps cotton or fungus80; but in a far-away, dilettante81 fashion, as by men not deeply interested; through all, the names of schooners82 and their captains, will keep coming and going, thick as may-flies; and news of the last shipwreck will be placidly exchanged and debated. To a stranger, this conversation will at first seem scarcely brilliant; but he will soon catch the tone; and by the time he shall have moved a year or so in the island world, and come across a good number of the schooners so that every captain’s name calls up a figure in pyjamas83 or white duck, and becomes used to a certain laxity of moral tone which prevails (as in memory of Mr. Hayes) on smuggling84, ship-scuttling, barratry, piracy85, the labour trade, and other kindred fields of human activity, he will find Polynesia no less amusing and no less instructive than Pall86 Mall or Paris.
Mr. Loudon Dodd, though he was new to the group of the Marquesas, was already an old, salted trader; he knew the ships and the captains; he had assisted, in other islands, at the first steps of some career of which he now heard the culmination87, or (vice versa) he had brought with him from further south the end of some story which had begun in Tai-o-hae. Among other matter of interest, like other arrivals in the South Seas, he had a wreck74 to announce. The John T. Richards, it appeared, had met the fate of other island schooners.
“Dickinson piled her up on Palmerston Island,” Dodd announced.
“Who were the owners?” inquired one of the club men.
“O, the usual parties!” returned Loudon — “Capsicum & Co.”
A smile and a glance of intelligence went round the group; and perhaps Loudon gave voice to the general sentiment by remarking, “Talk of good business! I know nothing better than a schooner, a competent captain, and a sound, reliable reef.”
“Good business! There’s no such a thing!” said the Glasgow man. “Nobody makes anything but the missionaries88 — dash it!”
“I don’t know,” said another. “There’s a good deal in opium.”
“It’s a good job to strike a tabooed pearl-island, say, about the fourth year,” remarked a third; “skim the whole lagoon89 on the sly, and up stick and away before the French get wind of you.”
“A pig nokket of cold is good,” observed a German.
“There’s something in wrecks90, too,” said Havens. “Look at that man in Honolulu, and the ship that went ashore on Waikiki Reef; it was blowing a kona, hard; and she began to break up as soon as she touched. Lloyd’s agent had her sold inside an hour; and before dark, when she went to pieces in earnest, the man that bought her had feathered his nest. Three more hours of daylight, and he might have retired91 from business. As it was, he built a house on Beretania Street, and called it for the ship.”
“Yes, there’s something in wrecks sometimes,” said the Glasgow voice; “but not often.”
“As a general rule, there’s deuced little in anything,” said Havens.
“Well, I believe that’s a Christian92 fact,” cried the other. “What I want is a secret; get hold of a rich man by the right place, and make him squeal93.”
“I suppose you know it’s not thought to be the ticket,” returned Havens.
“I don’t care for that; it’s good enough for me,” cried the man from Glasgow, stoutly94. “The only devil of it is, a fellow can never find a secret in a place like the South Seas: only in London and Paris.”
“M’Gibbon’s been reading some dime-novel, I suppose,” said one club man.
“He’s been reading Aurora95 Floyd,” remarked another.
“And what if I have?” cried M’Gibbon. “It’s all true. Look at the newspapers! It’s just your confounded ignorance that sets you snickering. I tell you, it’s as much a trade as underwriting, and a dashed sight more honest.”
The sudden acrimony of these remarks called Loudon (who was a man of peace) from his reserve. “It’s rather singular,” said he, “but I seem to have practised about all these means of livelihood96.”
“Tit you effer vind a nokket?” inquired the inarticulate German, eagerly.
“No. I have been most kinds of fool in my time,” returned Loudon, “but not the gold-digging variety. Every man has a sane97 spot somewhere.”
“Well, then,” suggested some one, “did you ever smuggle98 opium?”
“Yes, I did,” said Loudon.
“Was there money in that?”
“All the way,” responded Loudon.
“And perhaps you bought a wreck?” asked another.
“Yes, sir,” said Loudon.
“How did that pan out?” pursued the questioner.
“Well, mine was a peculiar99 kind of wreck,” replied Loudon. “I don’t know, on the whole, that I can recommend that branch of industry.”
“Did she break up?” asked some one.
“I guess it was rather I that broke down,” says Loudon. “Head not big enough.”
“Ever try the blackmail100?” inquired Havens.
“Simple as you see me sitting here!” responded Dodd.
“Good business?”
“Well, I’m not a lucky man, you see,” returned the stranger. “It ought to have been good.”
“You had a secret?” asked the Glasgow man.
“As big as the State of Texas.”
“And the other man was rich?”
“He wasn’t exactly Jay Gould, but I guess he could buy these islands if he wanted.”
“Why, what was wrong, then? Couldn’t you get hands on him?”
“It took time, but I had him cornered at last; and then ——”
“What then?”
“The speculation101 turned bottom up. I became the man’s bosom102 friend.”
“The deuce you did!”
“He couldn’t have been particular, you mean?” asked Dodd pleasantly. “Well, no; he’s a man of rather large sympathies.”
“If you’re done talking nonsense, Loudon,” said Havens, “let’s be getting to my place for dinner.”
Outside, the night was full of the roaring of the surf. Scattered lights glowed in the green thicket103. Native women came by twos and threes out of the darkness, smiled and ogled104 the two whites, perhaps wooed them with a strain of laughter, and went by again, bequeathing to the air a heady perfume of palm-oil and frangipani blossom. From the club to Mr. Havens’s residence was but a step or two, and to any dweller4 in Europe they must have seemed steps in fairyland. If such an one could but have followed our two friends into the wide-verandahed house, sat down with them in the cool trellised room, where the wine shone on the lamp-lighted tablecloth; tasted of their exotic food — the raw fish, the breadfruit, the cooked bananas, the roast pig served with the inimitable miti, and that king of delicacies105, palm-tree salad; seen and heard by fits and starts, now peering round the corner of the door, now railing within against invisible assistants, a certain comely106 young native lady in a sacque, who seemed too modest to be a member of the family, and too imperious to be less; and then if such an one were whisked again through space to Upper Tooting, or wherever else he honored the domestic gods, “I have had a dream,” I think he would say, as he sat up, rubbing his eyes, in the familiar chimney-corner chair, “I have had a dream of a place, and I declare I believe it must be heaven.” But to Dodd and his entertainer, all this amenity107 of the tropic night and all these dainties of the island table, were grown things of custom; and they fell to meat like men who were hungry, and drifted into idle talk like men who were a trifle bored.
The scene in the club was referred to.
“I never heard you talk so much nonsense, Loudon,” said the host.
“Well, it seemed to me there was sulphur in the air, so I talked for talking,” returned the other. “But it was none of it nonsense.”
“Do you mean to say it was true?” cried Havens — “that about the opium and the wreck, and the blackmailing108 and the man who became your friend?”
“Every last word of it,” said Loudon.
“You seem to have been seeing life,” returned the other.
“Yes, it’s a queer yarn109,” said his friend; “if you think you would like, I’ll tell it you.”
Here follows the yarn of Loudon Dodd, not as he told it to his friend, but as he subsequently wrote it.
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1
shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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6
slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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7
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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pinnacled
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| 小尖塔般耸立的，顶处的 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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tattooer
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| 文身师，黥墨师 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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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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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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tattooing
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| n.刺字，文身v.刺青，文身( tattoo的现在分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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40
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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dolorous
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| adj.悲伤的；忧愁的 | |
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43
havens
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| n.港口，安全地方( haven的名词复数 )v.港口，安全地方( haven的第三人称单数 ) | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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piracy
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| n.海盗行为，剽窃，著作权侵害 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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culmination
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| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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95
aurora
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| n.极光 | |
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livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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smuggle
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| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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100
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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101
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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102
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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103
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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104
ogled
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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106
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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107
amenity
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| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
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108
blackmailing
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| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的现在分词 ) | |
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109
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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