With the powerful, sweeping5 overhead stroke of a practiced swimmer Emily overtook him on the crest6 of a foaming7 surge. The plaits of her hair had been washed by the sea into a free golden mane. The grace of a Nereid, of the ocean itself, was in her. She might have been borne of the deep. The myth of Thetis must have had such a conception.
As she swung up to him, shoulder to shoulder, Lavelle turned on his side. With a toss of her head she brought it clear of the water. The light of her countenance8 said to him as plainly as words could have done: "I am here! I am thine!" He caught her and drew her face to his. His lips went to hers and clung in a wild, fleeting9 second of union. Then, side by side, they struck out to meet their destiny.
Taking the weather berth10, Paul set the pace toward the strange vessel11. It was already to leeward12 of the island's median line. The send of the swell13, however, more than balanced the craft's swift drift in the swimmers' favor. Yet the half-mile of their turbulent course was a test for the strongest and bravest. The willful, tenacious14 power of love sustained Emily until they came within hail of their goal. Here flesh and blood struck. Her spirit remained undaunted, but the body refused the spirit's demands upon it.
Sensing that Emily was failing, Lavelle put out a hand and turned her on her back. In that moment he realized, too, that he was near exhaustion15. The ridge16 of a gigantic surge lifted them higher than the rail of the bark. Paul could distinguish every fixture17 of her deserted18 decks. The sea dropped away with them. The next instant the vessel's leaden-colored side and half of her copper-painted bottom were reeling over them. They might have been looking up at her from the bottom of the ocean. Her masts appeared to pierce the blue, sun-shot sky.
Although convinced there was no ear aboard the vessel to hear Paul drew on his rapidly waning19 strength to send a yell down to her. The sails flung back a faint, mocking echo. All the while his eyes were searching for some means of boarding. Being an iron vessel the bark's sides presented no chain plates or channels for a hand hold. Deeply laden20 though she was the bights in which her braces21 trailed were far beyond his reach even when she rolled.
The belief that he might be able to climb aboard with the aid of a lee brace22 had been with him when he took to the water. From the island it had seemed that this gear swept the sea with every surge. Not so much as an eyebolt offered a ray of hope. The boomkins were as possible of touching23 as the tops. He turned toward the bows. There might be a chance forward, but he felt certain that Emily's strength would never withstand the mauling of the sea that must follow catching24 hold of the bobstay.
Lost for a moment in the eagerness of his search, the bark had drifted down upon them until a stroke would have brought them together. The sensation of being drawn down made him aware of it. It shocked him into action. Dragging Emily with him, Paul plunged25 away just in time to escape a terrific suction produced by the vessel's laboring26.
Hardly were they clear of this new peril, which he instantly realized must be taken into account, when something wound itself around Paul's legs with a jerk. It clung like the tentacle27 of a monster. It snatched him toward the vessel. The bark was lifting at the moment. He and Emily were falling away in a valley of beryl. Instinctively28 he threw himself on his back, kicking as best he could to free his prisoned limbs. A glance, as his feet came clear of the water, transported him from the depths of fear and hopelessness to the heights of hope. He was entangled29 in a rope's end which was attached to the bark. He caught it just as it was slipping away from him. Overhauling30 it with one hand he found it to be a gauntline which trailed away from a block at the end of the lee main yardarm. To his sailor mind it told how the vessel's small boats had been hoisted31 out of her.
It was with misgiving32 that he drew the line toward him. It came so freely that he was certain that it was but another mockery. At each pull he expected to see its length come darting33 through the block. Presently it held; it sustained his weight. It was fast aboard the vessel. His heart bounded at the discovery. He passed a bight round Emily's waist and darted34 from her side forward. Hurling35 himself into the smothering36 suction under the bows, he clutched the bobstay as it buried itself. Down he went with it, dragged further and further until it seemed that he must let the sea have him. A monster with an hundred beaks37 tore at his lungs. Another clawed at his eyes. Still another gnashed at his heart. A bare glimmer38 of consciousness marked the end of the downward pitch. As the bark rose he continued to climb. At the end of the rise he was clear of the sea and halfway39 to the cap of the bowsprit. The fangs40 which reached for him did not get him again.
Half an hour afterward41 Paul Lavelle found himself lying on a deck with water hissing42 over him and round him. It gurgled in his ears and foamed43 across his throat. It was being spat44 at him out of three or four scuppers and a bulwark45 port on his right. He was in the waist of a vessel. This was a hatch coaming against which his left side was pressed—the coaming of the vessel's main hatch. He sat up and saw Emily lying across the hatch unconscious. The bight of the gauntline was still around her. As he struggled to arise, only to fall back again, his cheek swept one of her feet which dangled46 over the edge of the coaming. Yes, he had torn that woman out of the sea's arms. There she was in evidence of that, but where he had found the strength, how he had done it or when he had done it, he had no idea.
The names Emily and Daphne were mixed in his thoughts. It took a severe mental struggle to identify his own name. He repeated it two or three times before he recognized it. Emily was the name of the woman on the hatch. But Daphne? This name puzzled him until his wandering gaze found a row of deck buckets in a rack on the edge of the forward house. Daphne was painted on each bucket. Then slowly it came to him that he had seen it on the bows of a vessel aboard which he had climbed a long time before.
His senses were bogged47 in the reaction of the despair of exhaustion—that hopeless dejection which follows a supreme48 mental or physical exertion49 and whose poignancy50 is the greater according to the successful degree of the effort. He slipped back to his full length in the water and lay staring up at the sky.
"Paul! Paul!"
His name called in a plaintive51 tone over his head was what finally aroused him to a realization52 of his situation. The voice touched a chord in his being that impelled53 him to action. It sent a wave of emotion through him. He rose to a sitting posture54. Again his cheek brushed the gold woman's feet, and at the touch he bent55 his head quickly and kissed them. It was not the first time he had done this, but it startled him now, for he sensed that she was conscious of what he did. Yet thus on the island he had kissed her reverently56 and sacredly when he had bound her burns.
As he struggled to his feet Emily sat up. Her hair fell across her shoulders and bosom57 and across her limbs in a golden shower.
"Oh, woman of all the world," he murmured, "we still live!"
This woman was his. She had challenged him against the sea—matched him against all its brute58 force—and he had won her.
For a second only Emily met and held Paul's glance. Then, lowering her head and throwing herself in abandon across the hatch, she burst into tears. So did the reaction of all she had passed through come upon her.
Paul turned away, chastened by those tears. He realized that no word he might utter then would assuage59 one drop of them. Action called to him, but he seemed to be unable to put a hand on the situation. A long weather roll caught him unawares. It flung him across the deck and he brought up against the fife rail around the mainmast. His limbs quivered under him; his knees knocked together in weakness. Every muscle of him throbbed60 and twitched61 from the effects of the battle he had waged with the sea. A momentary62 dread63 that he would never recover his strength seized him.
It was in that instant that his gaze snapped a glimpse of the island far up to windward. It appeared very small. He marveled that the bark could have drifted so far. A lee roll cut the bit of land from his view. He started to call Emily, but forbore at the sound of her sobbing64. As if fascinated he waited until the bark lifted on the shoulder of the next swell. Like sugar melting in a teacup the island dissolved in his sight. It stirred him mightily66. It aroused in him the spirit of combativeness67. It made him realize that the sea would stand not on his dalliance. It ordered him to action and to confront the mystery of the ocean's traffic with the abandoned Daphne.
It required but a glance for him to confirm his estimate of the vessel's size which he had formed in his first view of her from the island and while he swam beside her. She was not less than 1,200 tons burden—about 200 feet long and less than forty feet beam—and heavily sparred. Her lower masts and topmasts were of iron or steel. They were pole masts; that is to say, in one continuous piece. The lower and double topsail-yards also were built of iron or steel. Everything bespoke68 the fact that she had been built for driving.
Calling to Emily that he would be gone but a minute, Paul drew an iron belaying pin from the fife rail and started aft. He armed himself against surprise, although he felt instinctively that he and Emily were alone. Still, all to be seen about decks indicated that the bark had not been long abandoned.
A teakwood door was open and hooked back against the cabin's forward bulkhead. A similar door on the starboard side was shut. Through the open door he entered the after-living quarters. A slamming of doors and the familiar sound of the hard woods in the cabin's trim, working in their joinings, answered the invader's hail flung from the threshold. Once inside, he found himself in a white-painted alleyway at the end of which a banging door gave him a glimpse of the forward cabin or saloon. His nostrils70 first caught a stench of lamps which had flickered71 out in oil dregs.
All ships are so ordered in their appointments that a seaman72 is never at a loss to find his way in any. Lavelle could have gone about the Daphne blindfolded73. He did not have to look at the brass74 plate over the first door off the alleyway on his right to tell it was the room of the chief mate. The door was open, but something behind it kept it from swinging more than a couple of inches as the vessel labored75. He gave it a quick shove and stepped inside the room, only to pause with a gasp76 of horror.
At the invader's feet, bathed in the morning sunlight which poured through two ports, lay the stark77 body of a young, lithe-limbed son of the sea. Barely more than a boy he had been. There was a gaping78 bullet wound between his eyes. It was a wound of exit—where the lead which had killed him had sped away from its work. It cried out a story of assassination79 to Lavelle; it shrieked80 to him that the young fellow had been shot from behind, possibly as he slept in his berth with his back toward the door. The rolling of the ship had brought the body to the deck where it lay.
The lockers81 of the room were wrenched82 open. Everywhere were signs of disorder83; the marks of hurrying, marauding hands. Yet the room had been the castle of a man of order and cleanliness. Lavelle looked particularly for the bark's log book which ordinarily should have been on the small desk at the foot of the berth. It was missing.
With a thought of how sweet life must have been to this young fellow and with his wrath84 hot against his slayers, Lavelle stepped across the alleyway to the second and third mates' room. Its door opened at a touch. Here, strangely, the sour, unmistakable odor of the forecastle met him. Instantly the searcher visualized85 the coarse type of men who had occupied these quarters—the rule-of-thumb sort, who may spend a lifetime at sea without ever winning to a rank above second mate. Here disorder was not apparent because disorder was a natural thing.
There was a stateroom abaft86 the mate's. It was empty. A door immediately opposite had been forced. It was another stateroom filled with stores. It was plain that a quick draft had been made upon these supplies.
Darting into the forward cabin, only the echo of his own hail answered him. A red tablecloth87 lay on the deck where it had been swept by some person hurrying by or else in a struggle. A white metal castor rolled under the dining table and made a tinkling88 noise among its broken cruets. The pantry and three more staterooms opened upon this cabin. The staterooms reported only emptiness. They had not been recently occupied. The pantry's cleanliness and order might have been produced by a careful housewife's hands.
The doors leading into the after cabin were open and hooked back. Like the forward compartment89, it was done in Indian teak, bird's-eye maple90, and mahogany. It was furnished with two comfortable easy chairs, a small center table, and a divan91 built into the bulkhead against the starboard side. A tiny piano stood between the forward entrances. Through the after end a companionway led up on to the poop.
There were two more staterooms here. They were empty and gave no signs of recent occupancy. They were on the port side. To starboard was the chart room. A litter of books, charts, and chart pipes covered its floor. The chronometer92 case stood open. A glance told Paul that it had been wound within forty-eight hours. He bent his head and quickly caught a tick of even, smooth escapement.
Hurrying aft from the chart room, the castaway came to what he knew to be the skipper's room. The door to it was shut. Its middle panel was splintered. Something made him turn the knob with gentleness.
Just inside the door to the left a man in pajamas93 sat at a small writing desk, his head cast upon his arms as if sleep had suddenly overtaken him. His head swayed as Paul looked down at him. It was lending itself to the swing of the vessel, but the motion was so natural that, for the moment, Lavelle was deceived. A strange hope sprang into his heart.
"Wake up, old man! Wake up!" he called. He even shook him by the shoulder, but the man at the desk was sleeping a sleep that knows no mortal awakening94.
Under the stiff arms Paul spied the log book which he had missed from the mate's room. He pulled it out and the dead man's head rolled back and compelled his disturber to meet the gaze of his wide-open, staring blue eyes. A pen rolled out from under his right hand and dropped from the desk.
This undoubtedly95 was the Daphne's skipper. He had been a man of powerful build, standing96 in life as tall as Lavelle himself. Even in the laxness of death his jaw97 bespoke indomitable determination. The nose was of a splendid aggressive type. Death had taken him in the beginning of his best years. He could not have been more than forty years of age.
A crimson98 splotch just below the chest line told where the man's life blood had gone out. Measuring its location by sight with the height of the door's splintered panel, Lavelle ventured a deduction99 of how the Daphne's master and mate had been assassinated100. The master had been asleep or, at any rate, he had retired101. His apparel, his disturbed berth told that. He had heard the shot which did for the mate, or, perhaps, he might have gone to the door unsuspectingly to answer a knock or summons. His hand turning the knob had been the signal to the assassin on the other side of the door to send a bullet crashing through it into his midriff.
But how the skipper had come to have the log book in his room it was not possible to surmise102 unless, after being shot, he had had the strength to make his way to the mate's room and back again. Again he might have taken the keeping of the log into his own charge. Could he and the mate have quarreled? Asking himself this question, the searcher's eyes ran down the pages at which the book had lain open and stopped with a shock at three words:
"The second mate——"
That was the final entry.
It was written in a hand which had begun the formation of the letters in a tight style and ended in the scrawling103 of a schoolboy, a blot104 and a splattered dash. Where this dash finished there had death touched the fingers which held the writer's pen.
Whatever had happened aboard the Daphne it was the second mate who was responsible for it. Paul was convinced there was no escape from the indictment105 in those three words.
It was a P.M. entry under date of March 29. According to Paul Lavelle's account of time it was now March 31. Some time during the night of two days before—on the 29th—mutiny had lifted its red hands on the Daphne.
The log was written up to eight o'clock on the evening of the 29th. It must have been the last thing the fair-haired boy now lying cold forward had done before turning his lamp down for his eternal "watch below."
But as startling as was the tragedy which loomed106 so boldly out of the three simple words which have been quoted was the Daphne's position given as of noon of that day: "Latitude107 32:30 north; Longitude108 176:28 east."
This instantly destroyed Paul's idea of the island's position. The bark had drifted up on the island out of the southwest. Then, according to the most reasonable assumption, she had been to the southward of it when she was abandoned. That put the island between three and four hundred miles to the northward109 of where the castaways had believed it to be all the time. Its drift must have been to the north and east instead of the southwest. This explained the absence of the trades; the variable quality of the winds which had prevailed. The island had drifted across the spot, or within a short distance thereto, of where the Cambodia had found her grave.
Paul decided110 to let the observation which he planned to make at noon settle the puzzle of position. The moment demanded that he should give his thoughts to it and the living, and not to the past and its dead. Still as he laid the log down on the desk again he turned to the page which began it and read, in the style of the ancient sea formula:
"Log of the bark Daphne, 1,252 tons burthen, of Liverpool, England, John McGavock, master, on her voyage from Sydney, N. S. W., toward San Francisco, U. S. A."
And with something of boyish pride the keeper of the log—it was not in the skipper's writing—had posted his name with boldness at the head of the list of the ship's company: "William Elston, chief officer." It was the imagination of youth gilding111 the rank. It seemed to speak that the Daphne had given the boy his first berth as mate.
"And they murdered you, William Elston, and you, too, John McGavock," said Paul with a sad bitterness, turning away from the desk.
A frightened cry from Emily, a smothered112 sob65 and the patter of her bare feet carried Paul through the open door, but not quickly enough to cut off her view of the still occupant of the skipper's room. She shrank into his arms shuddering113, and as he pressed her to him she tried to crush her sobs114 against his breast.
"Don't be frightened—don't be frightened, dearheart," he crooned to her. His lips found her brow, her eyes, her mouth.
Paul had not been away from the deck more than five minutes, but the time had seemed to her thrice and thrice again as long.
Brokenly she told him how, as she had entered the door through which she had seen him disappear, her eyes had found the figure of the mate stretched in his room.
"Then—there is another—one—in there!" she went on. "Oh, Paul, never leave me again! Will you, dear! Will you? Not until death comes to take us both?"
Her teeth were chattering116 from cold and nervous exhaustion.
"No, dear; not until death," he answered her pleading, but the kiss which he pressed on her mouth spoke69 in greater reassurance117 to her heart than his words. "Much has happened here—much that I don't understand; much that we may never understand. But just now we must think of ourselves. We must think of living; of fighting on. You're going to fight on with me, aren't you? You're going to be brave and never lose hope? You don't know how brave you've been. You have been the inspiration of the battle all along. Look up at me."
His powerful arms held her away as he spoke and she glanced up at him timidly.
"It is not hard to be brave with you," she said, and he drew her to him so fiercely that she could not help crying out.
He released her in alarm. His arms dropped to his sides.
"I'm a brute; I've hurt you, dear."
"No, no," she protested with a smile of love, but her eyes sought a red mark on her round, gleaming shoulder, and for the first time each of them became conscious of the meagerness of her attire118.
"No, no, Paul. It happened when you were dragging me over the side. The rope did it."
As she spoke she drew the yoke120 of her long white gown higher on her shoulders. Her cheeks mantled121 red with shame and he turned away from her. Yet in the next instant her cheeks crimsoned122 a deeper hue123 in shame of that shame, for it came to her as a truth that in the sight of this man there could be no abasement124.
Paul re?ntered the skipper's room, remembering that he had seen an ulster and a mackintosh hanging in a corner to the right of the desk. He swept them on to his arm in his bewilderment. It was one thing to outfit125 a man; another to garb126 a woman. His eye caught a pair of socks hanging over the edge of a half-open drawer under McGavock's berth. He snatched these. He added a pair of straw sandals, whose toes protruded127 from under the settee across the rear bulkhead, to his collection and also a blanket—a fine white California blanket which lay in a roll at the foot of the berth. It was the best he could think of doing at the moment.
Emily was shivering on the divan when he returned to her.
"Lie down there, dear," he said, "and I'll tuck you in and bring you some coffee—something warm, anyway—and some food."
"No, no, no," she said, starting up. "Don't leave me here—alone. Not now. I know the dead can't hurt one, but—I must go with you. When all's said and done, Paul—I'm only—only a woman——"
She took the ulster from him and slipped it on. It was large enough to have wrapped her round twice. She plunged her feet into the warm woollen socks and gave a little sigh of pleasure.
"I—I feel better already."
"Now put these on."
Paul handed her the sandals, and as she took them she studied them for a second, only to glance up at him with a startled expression.
"These are a woman's, Paul," she whispered. "And that——"
She indicated the mackintosh, and he held it out before him.
"This is a woman's, too," he said in the same breath with her.
"A woman? A woman?" he repeated, and he wondered if here was the key of the mystery of the Daphne.
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1
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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3
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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4
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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5
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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6
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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7
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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8
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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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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11
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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12
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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13
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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14
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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15
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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16
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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fixture
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| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
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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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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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tentacle
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| n.触角，触须，触手 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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29
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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33
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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35
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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36
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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37
beaks
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| n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 )；鹰钩嘴；尖鼻子；掌权者 | |
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38
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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39
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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40
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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41
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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42
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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43
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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44
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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45
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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46
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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47
bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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48
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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49
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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50
poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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51
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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52
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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53
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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55
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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56
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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57
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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58
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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59
assuage
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| v.缓和，减轻，镇定 | |
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60
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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61
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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62
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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63
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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64
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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65
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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66
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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67
combativeness
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| n.好战 | |
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68
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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69
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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70
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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71
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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73
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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74
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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75
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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76
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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77
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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78
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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79
assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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80
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
lockers
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| n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 ) | |
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82
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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83
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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84
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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85
visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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86
abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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87
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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88
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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89
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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90
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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91
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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92
chronometer
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| n.精密的计时器 | |
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93
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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94
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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95
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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96
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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97
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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98
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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99
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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100
assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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101
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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102
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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103
scrawling
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的现在分词 ) | |
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104
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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105
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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106
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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107
latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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108
longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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109
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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110
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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111
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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112
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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113
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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114
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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115
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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116
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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117
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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118
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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119
bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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120
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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121
mantled
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| 披着斗篷的，覆盖着的 | |
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122
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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123
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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124
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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125
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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126
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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127
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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