His mate, Elias Goddedaal, was a huge viking of a man, six feet three and of proportionate mass, strong, sober, industrious15, musical, and sentimental16. He ran continually over into Swedish melodies, chiefly in the minor17. He had paid nine dollars to hear Patti; to hear Nilsson, he had deserted18 a ship and two months’ wages; and he was ready at any time to walk ten miles for a good concert, or seven to a reasonable play. On board he had three treasures: a canary bird, a concertina, and a blinding copy of the works of Shakespeare. He had a gift, peculiarly Scandinavian, of making friends at sight: an elemental innocence19 commended him; he was without fear, without reproach, and without money or the hope of making it.
Holdorsen was second mate, and berthed20 aft, but messed usually with the hands.
Of one more of the crew, some image lives. This was a foremast hand out of the Clyde, of the name of Brown. A small, dark, thickset creature, with dog’s eyes, of a disposition21 incomparably mild and harmless, he knocked about seas and cities, the uncomplaining whiptop of one vice22. “The drink is my trouble, ye see,” he said to Carthew shyly; “and it’s the more shame to me because I’m come of very good people at Bowling23, down the wa’er.” The letter that so much affected24 Nares, in case the reader should remember it, was addressed to this man Brown.
Such was the ship that now carried joy into the bosoms25 of the castaways. After the fatigue26 and the bestial27 emotions of their night of play, the approach of salvation28 shook them from all self-control. Their hands trembled, their eyes shone, they laughed and shouted like children as they cleared their camp: and some one beginning to whistle Marching Through Georgia, the remainder of the packing was conducted, amidst a thousand interruptions, to these martial29 strains. But the strong head of Wicks was only partly turned.
“Boys,” he said, “easy all! We’re going aboard of a ship of which we don’t know nothing; we’ve got a chest of specie, and seeing the weight, we can’t turn to and deny it. Now, suppose she was fishy30; suppose it was some kind of a Bully31 Hayes business! It’s my opinion we’d better be on hand with the pistols.”
Every man of the party but Hemstead had some kind of a revolver; these were accordingly loaded and disposed about the persons of the castaways, and the packing was resumed and finished in the same rapturous spirit as it was begun. The sun was not yet ten degrees above the eastern sea, but the brig was already close in and hove to, before they had launched the boat and sped, shouting at the oars32, towards the passage.
It was blowing fresh outside, with a strong send of sea. The spray flew in the oarsmen’s faces. They saw the union Jack33 blow abroad from the Flying Scud, the men clustered at the rail, the cook in the galley34 door, the captain on the quarter-deck with a pith helmet and binoculars35. And the whole familiar business, the comfort, company, and safety of a ship, heaving nearer at each stroke, maddened them with joy.
Wicks was the first to catch the line, and swarm36 on board, helping37 hands grabbing him as he came and hauling him across the rail.
“Captain, sir, I suppose?” he said, turning to the hard old man in the pith helmet.
“Captain Trent, sir,” returned the old gentleman.
“Well, I’m Captain Kirkup, and this is the crew of the Sydney schooner38 Currency Lass, dismasted at sea January 28th.”
“Ay, ay,” said Trent. “Well, you’re all right now. Lucky for you I saw your signal. I didn’t know I was so near this beastly island, there must be a drift to the south’ard here; and when I came on deck this morning at eight bells, I thought it was a ship afire.”
It had been agreed that, while Wicks was to board the ship and do the civil, the rest were to remain in the whaleboat and see the treasure safe. A tackle was passed down to them; to this they made fast the invaluable39 chest, and gave the word to heave. But the unexpected weight brought the hand at the tackle to a stand; two others ran to tail on and help him, and the thing caught the eye of Trent.
“‘Vast heaving!” he cried sharply; and then to Wicks: “What’s that? I don’t ever remember to have seen a chest weigh like that.”
“It’s money,” said Wicks.
“It’s what?” cried Trent.
“Specie,” said Wicks; “saved from the wreck40.”
Trent looked at him sharply. “Here, let go that chest again, Mr. Goddedaal,” he commanded, “shove the boat off, and stream her with a line astern.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” from Goddedaal.
“What the devil’s wrong?” asked Wicks.
“Nothing, I daresay,” returned Trent. “But you’ll allow it’s a queer thing when a boat turns up in mid-ocean with half a ton of specie — and everybody armed,” he added, pointing to Wicks’s pocket. “Your boat will lay comfortably astern, while you come below and make yourself satisfactory.”
“O, if that’s all!” said Wicks. “My log and papers are as right as the mail; nothing fishy about us.” And he hailed his friends in the boat, bidding them have patience, and turned to follow Captain Trent.
“This way, Captain Kirkup,” said the latter. “And don’t blame a man for too much caution; no offence intended; and these China rivers shake a fellow’s nerve. All I want is just to see you’re what you say you are; it’s only my duty, sir, and what you would do yourself in the circumstances. I’ve not always been a ship-captain: I was a banker once, and I tell you that’s the trade to learn caution in. You have to keep your weather- eye lifting Saturday nights.” And with a dry, business-like cordiality, he produced a bottle of gin.
The captains pledged each other; the papers were overhauled41; the tale of Topelius and the trade was told in appreciative42 ears and cemented their acquaintance. Trent’s suspicions, thus finally disposed of, were succeeded by a fit of profound thought, during which he sat lethargic43 and stern, looking at and drumming on the table.
“Anything more?” asked Wicks.
“What sort of a place is it inside?” inquired Trent, sudden as though Wicks had touched a spring.
“It’s a good enough lagoon44 — a few horses’ heads, but nothing to mention,” answered Wicks.
“I’ve a good mind to go in,” said Trent. “I was new rigged in China; it’s given very bad, and I’m getting frightened for my sticks. We could set it up as good as new in a day. For I daresay your lot would turn to and give us a hand?”
“You see if we don’t!” said Wicks.
“So be it, then,” concluded Trent. “A stitch in time saves nine.”
They returned on deck; Wicks cried the news to the Currency Lasses; the foretopsail was filled again, and the brig ran into the lagoon lively, the whaleboat dancing in her wake, and came to single anchor off Middle Brooks45 Island before eight. She was boarded by the castaways, breakfast was served, the baggage slung46 on board and piled in the waist, and all hands turned to upon the rigging. All day the work continued, the two crews rivalling each other in expense of strength. Dinner was served on deck, the officers messing aft under the slack of the spanker, the men fraternising forward. Trent appeared in excellent spirits, served out grog to all hands, opened a bottle of Cape wine for the after-table, and obliged his guests with many details of the life of a financier in Cardiff. He had been forty years at sea, had five times suffered shipwreck47, was once nine months the prisoner of a pepper rajah, and had seen service under fire in Chinese rivers; but the only thing he cared to talk of, the only thing of which he was vain, or with which he thought it possible to interest a stranger, was his career as a money-lender in the slums of a seaport48 town.
The afternoon spell told cruelly on the Currency Lasses. Already exhausted49 as they were with sleeplessness50 and excitement, they did the last hours of this violent employment on bare nerves; and when Trent was at last satisfied with the condition of his rigging, expected eagerly the word to put to sea. But the captain seemed in no hurry. He went and walked by himself softly, like a man in thought. Presently he hailed Wicks.
“You’re a kind of company, ain’t you, Captain Kirkup?” he inquired.
“Yes, we’re all on board on lays,” was the reply.
“Well, then, you won’t mind if I ask the lot of you down to tea in the cabin?” asked Trent.
Wicks was amazed, but he naturally ventured no remark; and a little after, the six Currency Lasses sat down with Trent and Goddedaal to a spread of marmalade, butter, toast, sardines51, tinned tongue, and steaming tea. The food was not very good, and I have no doubt Nares would have reviled52 it, but it was manna to the castaways. Goddedaal waited on them with a kindness far before courtesy, a kindness like that of some old, honest countrywoman in her farm. It was remembered afterwards that Trent took little share in these attentions, but sat much absorbed in thought, and seemed to remember and forget the presence of his guests alternately.
Presently he addressed the Chinaman.
“Clear out!” said he, and watched him till he had disappeared in the stair. “Now, gentlemen,” he went on, “I understand you’re a joint-stock sort of crew, and that’s why I’ve had you all down; for there’s a point I want made clear. You see what sort of a ship this is — a good ship, though I say it, and you see what the rations53 are — good enough for sailor-men.”
There was a hurried murmur54 of approval, but curiosity for what was coming next prevented an articulate reply.
“Well,” continued Trent, making bread pills and looking hard at the middle of the table, “I’m glad of course to be able to give you a passage to ‘Frisco; one sailor-man should help another, that’s my motto. But when you want a thing in this world, you generally always have to pay for it.” He laughed a brief, joyless laugh. “I have no idea of losing by my kindness.”
“We have no idea you should, captain,” said Wicks.
“We are ready to pay anything in reason,” added Carthew.
At the words, Goddedaal, who sat next to him, touched him with his elbow, and the two mates exchanged a significant look. The character of Captain Trent was given and taken in that silent second.
“In reason?” repeated the captain of the brig. “I was waiting for that. Reason’s between two people, and there’s only one here. I’m the judge; I’m reason. If you want an advance you have to pay for it”— he hastily corrected himself —“If you want a passage in my ship, you have to pay my price,” he substituted. “That’s business, I believe. I don’t want you; you want me.”
“Well, sir,” said Carthew, “and what IS your price?”
The captain made bread pills. “If I were like you,” he said, “when you got hold of that merchant in the Gilberts, I might surprise you. You had your chance then; seems to me it’s mine now. Turn about’s fair play. What kind of mercy did you have on that Gilbert merchant?” he cried, with a sudden stridency. “Not that I blame you. All’s fair in love and business,” and he laughed again, a little frosty giggle55.
“Well, sir?” said Carthew, gravely.
“Well, this ship’s mine, I think?” he asked sharply.
“Well, I’m of that way of thinking meself,” observed Mac.
“I say it’s mine, sir!” reiterated56 Trent, like a man trying to be angry. “And I tell you all, if I was a driver like what you are, I would take the lot. But there’s two thousand pounds there that don’t belong to you, and I’m an honest man. Give me the two thousand that’s yours, and I’ll give you a passage to the coast, and land every man-jack of you in ‘Frisco with fifteen pounds in his pocket, and the captain here with twenty-five.”
Goddedaal laid down his head on the table like a man ashamed.
“You’re joking,” said Wicks, purple in the face.
“Am I?” said Trent. “Please yourselves. You’re under no compulsion. This ship’s mine, but there’s that Brooks Island don’t belong to me, and you can lay there till you die for what I care.”
“It’s more than your blooming brig’s worth!” cried Wicks.
“It’s my price anyway,” returned Trent.
“And do you mean to say you would land us there to starve?” cried Tommy.
Captain Trent laughed the third time. “Starve? I defy you to,” said he. “I’ll sell you all the provisions you want at a fair profit.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mac, “but my case is by itself I’m working me passage; I got no share in that two thousand pounds nor nothing in my pockut; and I’ll be glad to know what you have to say to me?”
“I ain’t a hard man,” said Trent. “That shall make no difference. I’ll take you with the rest, only of course you get no fifteen pound.”
The impudence57 was so extreme and startling, that all breathed deep, and Goddedaal raised up his face and looked his superior sternly in the eye.
But Mac was more articulate. “And you’re what ye call a British sayman, I suppose? the sorrow in your guts58!” he cried.
“One more such word, and I clap you in irons!” said Trent, rising gleefully at the face of opposition59.
“And where would I be the while you were doin’ ut?” asked Mac. “After you and your rigging, too! Ye ould puggy, ye haven’t the civility of a bug60, and I’ll learn ye some.”
His voice did not even rise as he uttered the threat; no man present, Trent least of all, expected that which followed. The Irishman’s hand rose suddenly from below the table, an open clasp-knife balanced on the palm; there was a movement swift as conjuring61; Trent started half to his feet, turning a little as he rose so as to escape the table, and the movement was his bane. The missile struck him in the jugular62; he fell forward, and his blood flowed among the dishes on the cloth.
The suddenness of the attack and the catastrophe63, the instant change from peace to war and from life to death, held all men spellbound. Yet a moment they sat about the table staring open-mouthed upon the prostrate64 captain and the flowing blood. The next, Goddedaal had leaped to his feet, caught up the stool on which he had been sitting, and swung it high in air, a man transfigured, roaring (as he stood) so that men’s ears were stunned65 with it. There was no thought of battle in the Currency Lasses; none drew his weapon; all huddled66 helplessly from before the face of the baresark Scandinavian. His first blow sent Mac to ground with a broken arm. His second bashed out the brains of Hemstead. He turned from one to another, menacing and trumpeting67 like a wounded elephant, exulting68 in his rage. But there was no counsel, no light of reason, in that ecstasy69 of battle; and he shied from the pursuit of victory to hail fresh blows upon the supine Hemstead, so that the stool was shattered and the cabin rang with their violence. The sight of that post-mortem cruelty recalled Carthew to the life of instinct, and his revolver was in hand and he had aimed and fired before he knew. The ear-bursting sound of the report was accompanied by a yell of pain; the colossus paused, swayed, tottered70, and fell headlong on the body of his victim.
In the instant silence that succeeded, the sound of feet pounding on the deck and in the companion leaped into hearing; and a face, that of the sailor Holdorsen, appeared below the bulkheads in the cabin doorway71. Carthew shattered it with a second shot, for he was a marksman.
“Pistols!” he cried, and charged at the companion, Wicks at his heels, Tommy and Amalu following. They trod the body of Holdorsen underfoot, and flew up-stairs and forth72 into the dusky blaze of a sunset red as blood. The numbers were still equal, but the Flying Scuds73 dreamed not of defence, and fled with one accord for the forecastle scuttle74. Brown was first in flight; he disappeared below unscathed; the Chinaman followed head-foremost with a ball in his side; and the others shinned into the rigging.
A fierce composure settled upon Wicks and Carthew, their fighting second wind. They posted Tommy at the fore1 and Amalu at the main to guard the masts and shrouds75, and going themselves into the waist, poured out a box of cartridges76 on deck and filled the chambers77. The poor devils aloft bleated78 aloud for mercy. But the hour of any mercy was gone by; the cup was brewed79 and must be drunken to the dregs; since so many had fallen all must fall. The light was bad, the cheap revolvers fouled80 and carried wild, the screaming wretches81 were swift to flatten82 themselves against the masts and yards or find a momentary83 refuge in the hanging sails. The fell business took long, but it was done at last. Hardy84 the Londoner was shot on the foreroyal yard, and hung horribly suspended in the brails. Wallen, the other, had his jaw85 broken on the maintop-gallant crosstrees, and exposed himself, shrieking86, till a second shot dropped him on the deck.
This had been bad enough, but worse remained behind. There was still Brown in the forepeak. Tommy, with a sudden clamour of weeping, begged for his life. “One man can’t hurt us,” he sobbed87. “We can’t go on with this. I spoke88 to him at dinner. He’s an awful decent little cad. It can’t be done. Nobody can go into that place and murder him. It’s too damned wicked.”
The sound of his supplications was perhaps audible to the unfortunate below.
“One left, and we all hang,” said Wicks. “Brown must go the same road.” The big man was deadly white and trembled like an aspen; and he had no sooner finished speaking, than he went to the ship’s side and vomited89.
“We can never do it if we wait,” said Carthew. “Now or never,” and he marched towards the scuttle.
“No, no, no!” wailed90 Tommy, clutching at his jacket.
But Carthew flung him off, and stepped down the ladder, his heart rising with disgust and shame. The Chinaman lay on the floor, still groaning91; the place was pitch dark.
“Brown!” cried Carthew, “Brown, where are you?”
His heart smote92 him for the treacherous93 apostrophe, but no answer came.
He groped in the bunks94: they were all empty. Then he moved towards the forepeak, which was hampered95 with coils of rope and spare chandlery in general.
“Brown!” he said again.
“Here, sir,” answered a shaking voice; and the poor invisible caitiff called on him by name, and poured forth out of the darkness an endless, garrulous96 appeal for mercy. A sense of danger, of daring, had alone nerved Carthew to enter the forecastle; and here was the enemy crying and pleading like a frightened child. His obsequious97 “Here, sir,” his horrid98 fluency99 of obtestation, made the murder tenfold more revolting. Twice Carthew raised the pistol, once he pressed the trigger (or thought he did) with all his might, but no explosion followed; and with that the lees of his courage ran quite out, and he turned and fled from before his victim.
Wicks sat on the fore hatch, raised the face of a man of seventy, and looked a wordless question. Carthew shook his head. With such composure as a man displays marching towards the gallows100, Wicks arose, walked to the scuttle, and went down. Brown thought it was Carthew returning, and discovered himself, half crawling from his shelter, with another incoherent burst of pleading. Wicks emptied his revolver at the voice, which broke into mouse-like whimperings and groans101. Silence succeeded, and the murderer ran on deck like one possessed102.
The other three were now all gathered on the fore hatch, and Wicks took his place beside them without question asked or answered. They sat close, like children in the dark, and shook each other with their shaking. The dusk continued to fall; and there was no sound but the beating of the surf and the occasional hiccup103 of a sob14 from Tommy Hadden.
“God, if there was another ship!” cried Carthew of a sudden.
Wicks started and looked aloft with the trick of all seamen104, and shuddered105 as he saw the hanging figure on the royal yard.
“If I went aloft, I’d fall,” he said simply. “I’m done up.”
It was Amalu who volunteered, climbed to the very truck, swept the fading horizon, and announced nothing within sight.
“No odds,” said Wicks. “We can’t sleep . . . ”
“Sleep!” echoed Carthew; and it seemed as if the whole of Shakespeare’s Macbeth thundered at the gallop106 through his mind.
“Well, then, we can’t sit and chitter here,” said Wicks, “till we’ve cleaned ship; and I can’t turn to till I’ve had gin, and the gin’s in the cabin, and who’s to fetch it?”
“I will,” said Carthew, “if any one has matches.”
Amalu passed him a box, and he went aft and down the companion and into the cabin, stumbling upon bodies. Then he struck a match, and his looks fell upon two living eyes.
“Well?” asked Mac, for it was he who still survived in that shambles107 of a cabin.
“It’s done; they’re all dead,” answered Carthew.
“Christ!” said the Irishman, and fainted.
The gin was found in the dead captain’s cabin; it was brought on deck, and all hands had a dram, and attacked their farther task. The night was come, the moon would not be up for hours; a lamp was set on the main hatch to light Amalu as he washed down decks; and the galley lantern was taken to guide the others in their graveyard108 business. Holdorsen, Hemstead, Trent, and Goddedaal were first disposed of, the last still breathing as he went over the side; Wallen followed; and then Wicks, steadied by the gin, went aloft with a boathook and succeeded in dislodging Hardy. The Chinaman was their last task; he seemed to be light-headed, talked aloud in his unknown language as they brought him up, and it was only with the splash of his sinking body that the gibberish ceased. Brown, by common consent, was left alone. Flesh and blood could go no further.
All this time they had been drinking undiluted gin like water; three bottles stood broached109 in different quarters; and none passed without a gulp110. Tommy collapsed111 against the mainmast; Wicks fell on his face on the poop ladder and moved no more; Amalu had vanished unobserved. Carthew was the last afoot: he stood swaying at the break of the poop, and the lantern, which he still carried, swung with his movement. His head hummed; it swarmed112 with broken thoughts; memory of that day’s abominations flared113 up and died down within him like the light of a lamp in a strong draught114. And then he had a drunkard’s inspiration.
“There must be no more of this,” he thought, and stumbled once more below.
The absence of Holdorsen’s body brought him to a stand. He stood and stared at the empty floor, and then remembered and smiled. From the captain’s room he took the open case with one dozen and three bottles of gin, put the lantern inside, and walked precariously115 forth. Mac was once more conscious, his eyes haggard, his face drawn116 with pain and flushed with fever; and Carthew remembered he had never been seen to, had lain there helpless, and was so to lie all night, injured, perhaps dying. But it was now too late; reason had now fled from that silent ship. If Carthew could get on deck again, it was as much as he could hope; and casting on the unfortunate a glance of pity, the tragic117 drunkard shouldered his way up the companion, dropped the case overboard, and fell in the scuppers helpless.
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cape
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retired
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suburban
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annex
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recondite
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extraordinarily
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proceedings
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mutual
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banking
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entirely
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appalling
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scud
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sob
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industrious
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sentimental
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minor
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deserted
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innocence
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berthed
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disposition
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vice
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bowling
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affected
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bosoms
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fatigue
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bestial
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salvation
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martial
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fishy
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bully
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oars
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jack
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galley
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binoculars
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36
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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37
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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38
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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39
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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40
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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41
overhauled
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| v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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42
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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43
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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44
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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45
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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46
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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47
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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48
seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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49
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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50
sleeplessness
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| n.失眠，警觉 | |
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51
sardines
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| n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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52
reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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54
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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55
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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56
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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58
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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59
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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60
bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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61
conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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62
jugular
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| n.颈静脉 | |
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63
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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64
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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66
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
trumpeting
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
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68
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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69
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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70
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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71
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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72
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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73
scuds
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的第三人称单数 ) | |
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74
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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75
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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76
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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78
bleated
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的过去式和过去分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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79
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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81
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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82
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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83
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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84
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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85
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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86
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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87
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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88
spoke
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| 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 | |
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89
vomited
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90
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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92
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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93
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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94
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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95
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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97
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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98
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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99
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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100
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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101
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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102
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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103
hiccup
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| n.打嗝 | |
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104
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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105
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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106
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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107
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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108
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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109
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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110
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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111
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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112
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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113
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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114
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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115
precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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116
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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117
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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