When the tumult5 and the shouts of departing regiments6 had died away from the home towns in the North and the flags that were flying from every house had begun to fade under the hot rays of the advancing summer, the patriotic8 orators9 and editors began to demand of their President why his grand army of seventy-five thousand lingered at the Capital. When he mildly suggested the necessity of drilling, equipping and properly arming them he was laughed at by the wise, and scoffed10 at as a coward by the brave.
Mutterings of discontent grew deeper and more threatening. They demanded a short, sharp, decisive campaign. Let the army wheel into line, march straight into Richmond, take Jefferson Davis a prisoner, hang him and a few leaders of the "rebellion," and the trouble would be over. This demand became at length the maddened cry of a mob:
"On to Richmond!"
Every demagogue howled it. Every newspaper repeated it. As city after city, and State after State took up the cry, the pressure on the man at the helm of Government became resistless. It was a political necessity to fight a battle and fight at once or lose control of the people he had been called to lead.
The Abolitionists only sneered11 at this cry. They demanded an answer to a single insistent12 question:
"What are you going to fight about?"
A battle which does not settle the question of Slavery they declared to be a waste of blood and treasure. If the slave was not the issue, why fight? The South would return to the union which they had always ruled if let alone. Why fight them for nothing?
Gilbert Winter, their spokesman at Washington, again confronted the President with his uncompromising demand:
"An immediate13 proclamation of emancipation14!"
And the President with quiet dignity refused to consider it.
"Why?" again thundered the Senator.
His answer was always the same:
"I am not questioning the right or wrong of Slavery. If Slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. But the Constitution, which I have sworn to uphold in the Border States of Maryland, Missouri and Kentucky, guarantees to their people the right to hold slaves if they choose. We have already eleven Southern States solidly arrayed against us. Add the Border States by such a proclamation, and the contest is settled before a blow is struck. I know the power of State loyalty15 in the South. I was born there. Many a mother in Richmond wept the days the stars and stripes were lowered from their Capitol. And well they might—for their sires created this Republic. But they brushed their tears away and sent their sons to the front next day to fight that flag in the name of Virginia. So would thousands of mothers in these remaining Slave States if I put them to the test. I'm going to save them for the union. In God's own time Slavery will be destroyed."
Against every demand of the heart of the party which had given him power, he stood firm in the position he had taken.
But there was no resisting the universal demand for a march on Richmond. The cry was literally16 from twenty millions. He must heed17 it or yield the reins18 of power to more daring hands.
To add to the President's burden, his Secretary of State was still dreaming of foreign wars. He had drawn19 up a letter of instruction to our Minister to Great Britain which would have provoked an armed conflict. When the backwoodsman from Southern Illinois read this document he was compelled to lay aside his other duties and practically rewrite it. His work showed a freedom of mind, a balance of judicial20 temperament21, an insight into foreign affairs, a skill in the use of language, a delicacy22 of criticism, a mastery of the arts of diplomacy23 which placed him among the foremost statesmen of any age, and all the ages.
He saved the Nation from a second disastrous24 war, as a mere25 matter of the routine of his office, and at once turned to the pressing work of the approaching battle.
John Vaughan had joined the army as correspondent for his paper, and Betty had been his companion on many tours of inspection26 through camp, hospitals and drill grounds. Her quick wit and brilliant mind were an inspiring stimulus27. She was cool and self-possessed and it rested him to be near her. She was the only restful woman he had ever encountered at short range. He was delighted that she seemed content without love-making. There was never a moment when he could catch the challenge of sex in a word or attitude. He might have been her older brother, so perfect and even, so free and simple her manner.
Betty had watched him with the keenest caution. The first glance at John's handsome face had convinced her of his boundless28 vanity and beneath it a streak29 of something cruel. She would have liked him instantly but for this. His vanity she could forgive. All good-looking men are vain. His character was a study of which she never tired. He strangely distressed30 and disturbed her—and this kept puzzling and piquing31 her curiosity. Every time she determined32 to end their association this everlasting33 question of the man's inner character came to torment34 her imagination.
She was a little disappointed at his not volunteering at the first call as his gallant36 young brother had done. Yet his reasoning was sound.
"What's the use?" he replied to her question. "Five men have already volunteered for every one who can be used. I'm not a soldier by profession or inclination37. A campaign of thirty days, one big battle and the war's over. The President has more men than he can arm or equip. My paper needs me——"
The army encamped along the banks of the Potomac received orders to advance for the long expected battle in the hills of Virginia.
Betty stood with the crowds of sweethearts and wives and sisters and mothers and watched them march away through the dust and heat and grime of the Southern summer, drums throbbing38, banners streaming, bayonets flashing and bands playing.
John Vaughan was in the ranks of a New York regiment7. He pressed Betty's hand with a lingering touch he hadn't intended. She seemed unconscious that he was holding it.
"You are going to march in the ranks?" she asked in surprise.
"Yes. I want to see war as it is. These boys are my friends from New York."
"You will fight with them?"
"No—just see with their eyes—that's all. And then tell you exactly what happened. I can hide behind a barn or a tree without being court-martialed."
She looked at him quickly with a new interest, pressed his hand again and said:
"Good luck!"
"And home again soon!" he cried with a wave of his arms as he hurried to join his marching men.
The army camped at Centreville, seven miles from Beauregard's lines, and spent the 19th and 20th of July resting and girding their loins for the first baptism of fire. The volunteers were eager for the fray39. The first touch of the skirmishers had resulted in fifteen or twenty killed. But the action had been too far away to make any serious impression.
Between the two armies crept the silvery thread of the little stream of Bull Run, its clear beautiful waters flashing in the July sun.
Saturday night, the 20th, orders were issued to John's regiment to be in readiness to advance against the enemy at two o'clock before day on Sunday morning. A thrill of fierce excitement swept the camp. They were loaded down with overcoats, haversacks, knapsacks and baggage, baggage, baggage without end. The single New York regiment to which he had attached himself required forty wagons40 to move its baggage. They had a bakery and cooking establishment that would have done credit to Broadway. They hurriedly packed all they could carry in readiness for the march into battle. What would happen to the rest God only knew, but they hoped for the best. Of course, the battle couldn't last long. It was only necessary for this grand army to make a demonstration41 with its drums throbbing, its fifes screaming, its bayonets flashing and its magnificent uniforms glittering in the sun—the plumes42, the Scotch43 bonnets44, the Turkish fez, the Garibaldi shirts, the blue and grey and gold, the black and yellow, and the red and blue of the fire Zouaves—when the rebel mob saw these things they would take to their heels.
What the boys were really afraid of was that every rebel would escape before they could use their handcuffs and ropes. This would be too bad because the procession through the crowded streets at home would be incomplete without captives as a warning to future traitors45. They were going to have a load to carry with their blanket rolls, haversack and knapsack and the full fighting rounds of cartridges46, but they were not going to leave the handcuffs. If they had to drop anything on the march they might ease up on a blanket or half their heavy cartridges.
John found sleep impossible, and was ready to move at one o'clock. The dust was rising already in parched47 clouds from the dry Virginia roads. He walked to the edge of the woods and gazed over the dark moonlit hills around Centreville. A gentle breeze began to stir the leaves overhead but it was hot and lifeless. He caught the smell of sweating horses in a battery of artillery48, hitched49 for the march. It was going to be a day of frightful50 heat under the clear blazing sun of the South, this Sunday, the 21st of July, 1861. He could see already in his imagination the long lines of sweating half fainting marchers staggering under the strain. Yet not for a moment did he doubt the result.
From a store on the hill at Centreville came the plaintive51 strains of a negro's voice accompanied by a banjo. A crowd of Congressmen had driven out from Washington on a picnic to see the spectacle of the first and last battle of the "Rebellion." They were drinking good whiskey and making merry.
For the first time a little doubt crept into his mind. Were they all too cocksure? It might be a serious business after all. It was only for a moment and his fears vanished. He was glad Ned was not in those grey lines in front. His company had been formed promptly52, and he had been elected first lieutenant53, but they were still in Southern Missouri under General Sterling54 Price. He shouldn't like to come on his brother's body dead or wounded after the battle—the young dare-devil fool!
Promptly at two o'clock the sharp orders rang from the regimental commander:
"Forward march!"
The lines swung carelessly into the powdered dust of the road and moved forward into the fading moonlight, talking, laughing, chatting, joking. War was yet a joke and the contagious55 fire of patriotism56 had flung its halo even over this night's work. Except here and there a veteran of the Mexican War, not one of these men had ever seen a battle or had the remotest idea what it was like.
John was marching with Sherman's brigade of Tyler's division. At six o'clock they reached the stone bridge which crossed Bull Run. On the hills beyond stretched a straggling line of grey figures. It couldn't be an army. Only a few skirmishers thrown out to warn off an attempt to cross the bridge. A white puff57 of smoke flashed on a hill toward the South, and the deep boom of a Confederate cannon58 echoed over the valley. Tyler's guns answered in grim chorus. The men gripped their muskets60 and waited the word of command. John's brigade was deployed61 along the edge of a piece of woods on the right of the Warrenton turnpike and stood for hours. A rumble62 of disgust swept the lines:
"What t'ell are we waitin' for?"
"Why don't we get at 'em?"
"And this is war!"
And no breakfast either. An hour passed and only an occasional crack of a musket59 across the shining thread of silver water and the slow sullen63 echo of the artillery. They seemed to be just practising. The shots all fell short and nobody was hurt.
Another hour—it was eight o'clock and still they stood and looked off into space. Nine o'clock passed and the fierce rays of the climbing July sun drove the men to the shelter of the trees.
"If this is war," yelled a red-breeched, fierce young Zouave, "I'll take firecrackers and a Fourth of July for mine!"
"Keep your shirt on, Sonny," observed a corporal. "We may have some fun yet before night."
At ten o'clock something happened.
Suddenly a thousand grey clad men leaped from their cover over the hills and swept up stream at double quick. A solid mass of dust-covered figures were swarming below the stone bridge.
The regiment's battery dashed into position, its guns were trained and their roar shook the earth. The swarming grey lines below the bridge paid no attention. The shots fell short and Sherman sent for heavier guns.
The men in grey had formed a new line of battle and faced the Sudley and New Market road. Far up this road could now be seen a mighty64 cloud of dust which marked the approach of the main body of McDowell's union army. He had made a wide flank movement, crossed Bull Run at Sudley Ford65 and was attempting to completely turn the Confederate position, while Sherman held the stone bridge with a demonstration of force.
A cheer swept the line as the dust rose higher and denser66 and nearer.
Banks of storm clouds were rising from the horizon. The air was thick and oppressive, as the two armies drew close in tense battle array. The turning movement had only been partly successful. It had been discovered before complete and a grey line had wheeled, gripped their muskets and stood ready to meet the attack.
The dust, cloud suddenly fell. McDowell's two divisions of eighteen thousand men spread out in the woods and made ready for the shock.
The sun burst through the gathering68 clouds for a moment and the edge of the woods flashed with polished steel.
A Federal battery dashed into position and placed one of its big black-wheeled guns in the front yard of a little white-washed farmhouse69. The farmer's wife faced the commander with indignant fury:
"Take that thing outen my front yard!"
The dust-and sweat-covered men paid no attention. They quickly sunk the wheels into the ground and piled their shells in place for work.
The old woman stamped her foot and shouted again: "Take that thing away I tell you—I won't have it here!"
The captain seized his lanyard, trained his piece and the big black lips roared.
With a scream of terror the woman covered her ears, rushed inside and slammed the door. They found her torn and mangled70 body there after the battle. An answering shell had crashed through the roof and exploded.
Sherman's men, standing71 in the woods before the stone bridge waiting orders, saw the white and blue fog of battle rise above the tree tops and felt the earth tremble beneath their feet.
And then came to John's ears the first full crash of musketry fire in close deadly range. As company, regiment and brigade joined in volley after volley, it was like the sound of the continuous ripping of heavy canvas, magnified on the scale of a thousand. As the storm cloud swept over the smoke-choked field the rattle72 of musketry sounded as if an angry God rode somewhere in their fiery73 depths, and with giant hand was ripping the heavens open!
An hour passed and a shout of triumph swept the Federal lines. They charged and drove the Confederate forces back a half mile from their first stand. There was a lull—a strange silence brooded over the flaming woods and the guns opened from their new position—the artillery's deep thunder and the ripping crash of muskets. Another hour and another wild shout of victory. They had driven the Southerners three quarters of a mile further.
The shouts suddenly stopped. They had struck something.
The grim dust-covered figure of a Southern Brigadier General on a little sorrel horse had barred the way. His bulging74 forehead with its sombre blue eyes hung ominously75 over the pommel of his saddle.
General Bee, of South Carolina, rallying his shattered, broken brigade, pointed35 his sword to the strange figure and shouted to his men:
"See Jackson standing like a stone wall—rally to the Virginians!"
A bursting shell struck him dead in the next instant, but the world had heard and the name "Stonewall" became immortal76.
With the last shout, the cry of victory had swept the field to the farthest line of reserves. John Vaughan secured a horse, galloped77 to the nearest telegraph line and sent the thrilling news to his paper. Already the wires were flashing it to the farthest cities of the North and West.
Victory! The first and last battle of the war had been settled. He spurred his horse through the blistering78 heat back to his regiment to join in the pursuit of the flying enemy.
They were just dashing across Bull Run going into action, their battle flag flying and their band playing. They were not long in finding the foe79. The obstruction80 still remained in the path of the advancing hosts. The grim figure on the little sorrel horse had just ordered his brigade to fix bayonets.
In sharp tones his command was snapped:
"Charge and take that battery!"
A low grey cloud rose from the hill, swept over the crack Federal battery of Ricketts and Griffin and captured their guns.
John's regiment reached the field just in time to see the cannoneers fall in their tracks at the first deadly volley from the charging men.
Every horse was down dead or wounded. The pitiful cries of the stricken horses rang over the field above the roar of the battle, pathetic, heartrending, sickening.
The two armies had clinched81 now in the grim struggle which meant defeat or victory. It was incredible that the army which swept the field for four terrible hours should fail. The new regiments formed in line and with a shout of desperation charged Jackson's men and retook the captured battery.
Again the men in grey rallied and tore the guns a second time from the hands of their owners.
John saw a shell explode directly beneath a magnificent horse on which a general sat directing his men. The horse was blown to atoms, the general was hurled82 twenty feet into the air and struck the ground on his feet. He was unhurt, called for another horse, mounted and led the third charge to recover the guns. For a moment the two battle lines mingled83 in deadly hand to hand combat and once more the guns were retaken.
It had scarcely been done before Jackson's men rallied, turned and swift as a bolt of lightning from the smoke-covered hill captured the guns the third time and held them.
And then the unexpected, unimaginable thing happened. A new dust cloud rose over the hill toward Manassas Junction84. The Southerners were hoping against hope that it might be Kirby Smith with his lost regiment from the Shenandoah Valley. The regiment had been expected since noon. It was now half past three o'clock. General McDowell, the union Commander, was hoping against hope that Patterson's army from the Shenandoah would join his.
They were not long in doubt. The fresh troops suddenly swung into position on McDowell's right flank. If they were allies all was well. If they were foes85! Suddenly from this line of battle rose a new cry on the face of the earth. From two thousand dusty throats came a heaven-piercing, soul-shivering shout, the cry of the Southern hunter in sight of his game, a cry that was destined86 to ring over many a field of death—the fierce, wild "Rebel Yell."
They charged McDowell's right flank with resistless onslaught. Kirby Smith fell desperately87 wounded and Elzey took command. Beckham's battery unlimbered and poured into the ranks from the rear a storm of shell. McDowell swung his battle line into a fiery crescent and made his last desperate stand.
Jubal Early, Elzey's brigade, and Stonewall Jackson charged at the same signal—and then—pandemonium!
Blind, unreasoning panic seized the army of the North. They broke and fled. Brave officers cursed and swore in vain. The panic grew. Men rushed pell mell over one another, white with terror. They threw down their muskets, their knapsacks, their haversacks and ran for their lives, every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. In vain the regular army, with splendid discipline, formed a rear guard to effect an orderly retreat. The crack of their guns only made the men run faster.
The wildest rumors88 flew from parched tongue to throbbing ear.
An army of a hundred thousand fresh troops had fallen on their tired, bloody89 ranks. They were led by Jeb Stuart at the head of four thousand Black Horse Cavalry90. If a single man escaped alive it would be for one reason, only they could outrun them. It was a crime for officers to try to round them up for a massacre91. That's all it was—a massacre! With each mad thought of the rushing mob the panic grew. They cut the traces of horses from guns and left them on the field. The frantic92 mob engulfed93 the buggies and carriages of the Congressmen and picnickers from Washington who had come out to see the Rebellion put down at a single blow. The road became a mass of neighing, plunging94 horses, broken and tangled95 wagons, ambulances and riderless artillery teams. Horses neighed in terror more abject96 than that which filled the hearts of men. Men once had reason—the poor horse had never claimed it. The blockades on the road formed no barrier to the flying men on foot. They streamed around and overflowed97 into the woods and fields and pressed on with new terror. God in Heaven! They pitied the poor fools engulfed in those masses of maddened plunging brutes98 and smashing wagons. It was only a question of a few minutes when Stuart's sabres would split every skull99.
John Vaughan was swept to the rear on the crest100 of this wave of terror. Up to the moment it began he had scarcely thought of danger. After the first few minutes of nerve tension under fire his spirit had risen as the combat raged and deepened. It didn't seem real, the falling of men around him. He had no time to realize that they were being torn to pieces by shot and shell and the hail of lead that whistled from those long sheets of flaming smoke-banks before him.
And then the panic had seized him. He had caught its mad unreasoning terror from the men who surged about him. And it was every man for himself. The change was swift, abject, complete from utter unconsciousness of fear to the blindest terror. Some ran mechanically, with their eyes set in front as if stiff with fear, expecting each moment to be struck dead, knowing it was useless to try but going on and on because involuntary muscles were carrying them.
A fat man caught hold of John's coat and held on for half a mile before he could shake him off. He begged piteously for help.
"Don't leave me, partner!" he panted. "I'm a sinful man. I ain't fit to die. You're young and strong—save me!"
The dead weight was pulling him down and John shook the fellow off with an angry jerk.
"To hell with you!"
They suddenly came to a lot of horses hid in the woods, rearing and plunging and neighing madly.
John swerved101 out of their way and an officer rushed up to him crying:
"Why don't you take a horse?"
He looked at him in a dazed way before he could realize his meaning.
"Take a horse!" he yelled. "The rebels will get 'em if you don't——"
The men were too intent on running to try to save horses. Horses would have to look out for themselves.
It suddenly occurred to John that a horse might go faster. Funny he hadn't thought of it at once. He turned, seized one, mounted, and galloped on. There was a quick halt. A panting mob came surging back over the way they had just fled. A ford in front had been blocked, and in the scramble102 the cry was raised that Stuart's cavalry were on them and cutting every soul down in his tracks at the crossing.
John leaped from his horse, turned, and ran straight for the woods. He didn't propose to be captured by Stuart's cavalry, that was sure. He turned to look back and ran into a tree. He climbed it. If he could only get to the top before they saw him. He had been an expert climber when a boy in Missouri and he thanked God now for this. He never paused for breath until he had reached the very top, where he drew the swaying branches close about his body to hide from the coming foe. The sun was yet hanging over the trees in the woods—a ball of sullen red fire lighting103 up the hiding place of the last poor devil for the eyes of the avenging104 hosts who were sweeping105 on. If it were night it would be all right. But this was no place for a man with an ounce of sense in broad daylight. The sharpshooters would see him in that tall tree sure. They couldn't take him prisoner up there—they would shoot him like a squirrel just to see him tumble and, by the Lord Harry106, they would do it, too!
He got down from the tree faster than he climbed up and from the edge of the woods spied a dense67 swamp. He never stopped until he reached the centre of it, and dropped flat on his stomach.
"Thank God, at last!" he sighed.
The Northern army fleeing for Washington had left on the field twenty-eight guns, four thousand muskets, nine regimental flags, four hundred and eighty-one dead, a thousand and eleven wounded and fourteen hundred captured. The road to the rear was literally sown with pistols, knapsacks, blankets, haversacks, wagons, tools and hospital stores.
And saddest of all the wreck107, lay the bright new handcuffs with coils of hang-man's rope scattered108 everywhere.
The Southern army had lost three hundred and eighty-seven killed, including two brigadier generals, Bee and Barton, and fifteen hundred wounded. They were so completely scattered and demoralized by their marvellous and overwhelming victory that any systematic109 pursuit of their foe was impossible.
The strange silent figure on the little sorrel horse turned his blue eyes toward Washington from the last hilltop as darkness fell, lifted his head suddenly toward the sky, and cried:
"Ten thousand fresh troops and I'd be in Washington to-morrow night!"
The troops were not to be had, and Stonewall Jackson ordered his men to bivouac for the night and sent out his details to bury the dead and care for the wounded of both armies.
Monday morning dawned black and lowering and before the sun rose the rain poured in steady torrents110. Through every hour of this desolate111 sickening day the weary, terror-stricken stragglers trailed through the streets of Washington—their gorgeous plumes soaked and drooping112, the Scotch bonnets dripping the rain straight down their necks and across their dirty foreheads, the Garibaldi shirts, the blue and grey, the black and yellow and gold and blazing Zouave uniforms rain-soaked and mud-smeared.
Betty Winter bought out a peddler's cake and lemonade stand on the main line of this ghastly procession and through every bitter hour from sunrise until dark stood there cheering and serving the men without money and without price, while the tears slowly rolled down her flushed cheeks.
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1
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 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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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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orators
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| n.演说者，演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
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scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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piquing
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的现在分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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32
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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33
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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34
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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35
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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36
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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37
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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38
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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39
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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40
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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41
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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42
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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43
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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44
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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45
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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46
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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47
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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48
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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49
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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50
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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51
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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52
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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53
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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54
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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55
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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56
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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57
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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58
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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59
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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60
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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61
deployed
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的过去式和过去分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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62
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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67
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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68
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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69
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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70
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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72
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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74
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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76
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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77
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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78
blistering
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| adj.酷热的；猛烈的；使起疱的；可恶的v.起水疱；起气泡；使受暴晒n.[涂料] 起泡 | |
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79
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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80
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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81
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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82
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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83
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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84
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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85
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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86
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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87
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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88
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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89
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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90
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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91
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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92
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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93
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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95
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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96
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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97
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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98
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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99
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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100
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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101
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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103
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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104
avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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105
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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106
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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107
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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108
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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109
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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110
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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111
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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112
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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