The southeasterly gale1 blown out, Ortho’s business went forward with a rush. In the second week in January they landed a cargo2 a night to make up for lost time, and met with a minor3 accident—Jacky’s George breaking a leg in saving a gig from being stove. This handicapped them somewhat. Anson was a capable boatsman, but haphazard4 in organization, and Ortho found he had to oversee5 the landings as well as lead the pack-train. Despite his efforts there were hitches6 and bungles7 here and there; the cogs of the machinery8 did not mate as smoothly9 as they had under the cock-sparrow. Nevertheless they got the cargoes10 through somehow and there was not much to fear in the way of outside interruptions; the dragoons seemed to have settled to almost domestic felicity in Penzance and the revenue cutter had holed her garboard strake taking a short cut round the Manacles and was docked at Falmouth. Ortho got so confident that he actually brought his horses home in plain daylight.
Then on the fourteenth of February, when all seemed so secure, the roof fell in.
Mr. William Carmichael was the person who pulled the props11 away. Mr. William Carmichael, despite his name, was an Irishman, seventeen years of age, and, as a newly-joined cornet of dragoons, drawing eight shillings a day, occupied a position slightly less elevated than an earth-worm. However, he was very far from this opinion. Mr. Carmichael, being young and innocent, yearned12 to let blood, and he wasn’t in the least particular whose. Captain Hambro and his two somewhat elderly lieutenants13, on the other hand, were experienced warriors14, and consequently the most pacific of creatures. Nothing but a direct order from a superior would induce them to draw the sword except to poke15 the fire. Mr. Carmichael’s martial16 spirit was in a constant state of effervescence; he hungered and thirsted for gore17—but without avail. Hambro positively18 refused to let him run out and chop anybody. The captain was a kindly19 man; his cornet’s agitation20 distressed21 him and he persuaded one of the dimpled Miss Jagos to initiate22 his subordinate in the gentler game of love (the boy would come into some sort of Kerry baronetcy when his sire finally bowed down to delirium23 tremens, and it was worth her while). But Mr. Carmichael was built of sterner stuff. He was proof against her woman’s wiles24. Line of attack! At ’em! The lieutenants, Messrs. Pilkington and Jope, were also gentle souls, Pilkington was a devotee of chess, Jope of sea-fishing. Both sought to engage the fire-eater in their particular pastimes. It was useless; he disdained25 such trivialities. Death! Glory!
But Hambro, whose battle record was unimpeachable26, knew that in civil police work, such as he was supposed to be doing, there is precious little transient glory to be picked up and much adhesive27 mud. He knew that with the whole population against him he stood small chance of laying the smugglers by the heels, and if he did the county families (who were as deeply implicated28 as any) would never rest until they had got him broken. He sat tight.
This did not suit the martial Carmichael at all. He fumed29 and fretted30, did sword exercise in the privacy of his bedroom till his arm ached, and then gushed31 his heart out in letters to his mother, which had the sole effect of eliciting32 bottles of soothing33 syrup34 by return, the poor lady thinking his blood must be out of order.
But his time was to come.
On the eighth of February Pilkington was called away to Axminster to the bedside of his mother (at least that is what he called her) and Carmichael was given his troop to annoy. On the morning of the fourteenth Hambro left on three days’ leave to shoot partridges at Tehidy, Jope and Carmichael only remaining. Jope blundered in at five o’clock on the same afternoon sneezing fit to split himself. He had been off Low Lee after pollack and all he had succeeded in catching36 was a cold. He growled37 about the weather, which his boatman said was working up for a blow, drank a pint38 of hot rum bumbo and sneezed himself up to bed, giving strict orders that he was not to be roused on any account.
Carmichael was left all alone.
To him, at seven of the clock, came Mr. Richard Curral, riding officer, a conscientious39 but blighted40 man.
He asked for Hambro, Pilkington and Jope in turn, and groaned41 resignedly when he heard they were unavailable.
“Anything I can do for you?” Carmichael inquired.
Curral considered, tapping his rabbit teeth with his whip handle. Mr. Carmichael was terribly young, the merest babe.
“N-o. I don’t think so; thank you, sir. No, never mind. Pity they’re away, though . . . seems a chance,” he murmured, talking to himself. “Lot of stuff been run that way of late . . . ought to be stopped by rights . . . pity!” he sighed.
“What’s a pity? What are you talking about?” said Mr. Carmichael, his ears pricking42. “Take that whip out of your mouth!”
Mr. Curral withdrew the whip; he was used to being hectored by military officers.
Mr. Carmichael sat upright. “Are they, b’God! How d’you know?”
“An informer has just come in. Gives no name, of course, but says he’s from Gwithian parish; looks like a farmer. Wants no reward.”
Mr. Curral shrugged46 his shoulders. “Some petty jealousy47, I presume; it usually is among these people. I’ve known a man give his brother away because he got bested over some crab-pots. This fellow says he overheard them making their plans in the inn there—lay under the table pretending to be drunk. Says that tall Penhale is the ringleader; I’ve suspected as much for some time. Of course it may only be a false scent48 after all, but the informer seems genuine. What are you doing, sir?”
Mr. Carmichael had danced across the room, opened the door and was howling for his servant. His chance had come. Gore!
“Doing! . . . Why, going to turn a troop out and skewer49 the lot of ’em of course. What d’you think?” shouted that gentleman, returning. “I’d turn out the squadron, only half the nags50 are streaming with strangles. Toss me that map there. Now where is this Monks Cove?”
Mr. Curral’s eyes opened wide. He was not used to this keenness on the part of the military. One horse coughing slightly would have been sufficient excuse for Hambro to refuse to move—leave alone half a squadron sick with strangles. It promised to be a dirty night too. He had expected to meet with a diplomatic but nevertheless definite refusal. It was merely his three-cornered conscience that had driven him round to the billet at all—yet here was an officer so impatient to be off that he was attempting the impossible feat51 of pulling on his boots and buckling52 on his sword at the same time. Curral’s eyes opened wider and wider.
“Ahem!—er—do you mean . . . er . . . are you in earnest, sir?”
“Earnest!” The cornet snorted, his face radiant. “Damn my blood but I am in very proper earnest, Mr. What’syourname—as these dastardly scoundrels shall discover ere we’re many hours older. Earnest, b’gob!”
“But Mr. Jope, sir . . . hadn’t you better consult Mr. Jope? . . . He . . .”
“Mr. Jope be dam . . . Mr. Jope has given orders that he’s not to be disturbed on any account, on any account, sir. I am in command here at the moment, and if you will have the civility to show me where this plaguy Monks Cove hides itself instead of standing53 there sucking your whip you will greatly assist me in forming my plan of action.”
“Here you are, sir, the merest gully.”
“Then I shall charge down the gully,” said Carmichael with that quick grasp of a situation displayed by all great commanders. The riding officer coughed: “Then you’ll have to charge at a walk, sir, and in single file; there’s only a rough pack-track. Further, the track is picketed57 at the head; as soon as you pass a gun will be fired and when you reach the cove there won’t be a cat stirring.”
Carmichael, like all great commanders, had his alternative. “Then I shall charge ’em from the flank. Can I get up speed down this slope?”
Curral nodded. “Yes, sir. You can ride from top to bottom in a moment of time.”
“How d’you mean?”
“Humph!—and this flank?”
“The same, sir.”
Carmichael scratched his ear and for the first time took thought. “Lookee,” he said presently. “If I stop the pack track here and there are precipices59 on either side how can they get their horses out? I’ve got ’em bottled.”
Curral shook his head. “I said practically precipices, sir. Precipices to go down, but not to come up. As you yourself have probably observed, sir, a horse can scramble60 up anything, but he is a fool going down. A horse falling uphill doesn’t fall far, but a horse falling down a slope like that rolls to the bottom. A horse . . .”
“Man,” snapped the cornet, “don’t talk to me about horses. My father keeps twenty. I know.”
Curral coughed. “I beg your pardon, sir. The informer tells me there are a dozen places on either side by which these fellows can get their beasts to the level. Remember it is their own valley; they’re at home there, while we are strangers and in the dark.”
“I wish you could get out of this habit of propounding61 the obvious,” said Carmichael. He dabbed62 his finger down on the map. “Look—supposing we wait for them out here across their line of march?”
“They’d scatter63 all over the moor64, sir. We’d be lucky if we caught a couple on a thick night like this.”
“Well, Mr. Riding Officer, I presume that in the face of these insurmountable difficulties you propose to sit down and do nothing—as usual. Let these damned ruffians run their gin, flout66 the law, do exactly as they like. Now let me tell you I’m of a different kidney, I . . .”
“You will pardon me, sir,” said Curral quietly, “but I haven’t as yet been given the opportunity of proposing anything.”
“What’s your plan then?”
“How many men can you mount, sir?”
“Very good, sir. Send a small detachment to stop the head of the track; not to be there before ten o’clock. The rest, under yourself, with me for guide, will ride to the top of the cliff which overhangs the village from the east and there leave the horses. The informer tells me there is a sheep-track leading down from there and they picket56 the top of it—an old man with a gun to fire if he hears anything. That picket will have to be silenced.”
“Who’s going to do that?” the cornet inquired.
“I’ve got a man of my own I think can do it. He was a great poacher before he got religion.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll creep, single file, down the sheep-track, muster68 behind the pilchard sheds and rush the landing—the goods should be ashore69 by then. I trust that meets with your approval, sir?”
The cornet nodded, sobered. “It does—you seem to be something of a tactician70, Mr. . . . er . . . Curral.”
“I served foreign with Lord Mark Kerr’s Regiment71 of Horse Guards, sir,” said the riding officer, picking up his whip.
Carmichael’s jaw72 dropped. “Horse Guards! . . . Abroad! . . . One of us! Dash my guts73, man, why didn’t you say so before?”
“You didn’t ask me, sir,” said Curral and sucked his whip.
2
Uncle Billy Clemo sat behind a rock at the top of the sheep-path and wished to Heaven the signal would go up. A lantern run three times to the truck of the flag-pole was the signal that the horses were away and the pickets74 could come in. Then he would be rewarded with two shillings and a drop of hot toddy at the Kiddlywink—and so to bed.
He concentrated his thoughts on the hot toddy, imagined it tickling75 bewitchingly against his palate, wafting76 delicious fumes77 up his nostrils78, gripping him by the throat, trickling79, drop by drop, through his chilled system, warm and comforting, trickling down to his very toes. He would be happy then. He had been on duty since seven-thirty; it was now after ten and perishing cold. The wind had gone round suddenly to the northeast and was gaining violence every minute. Before dawn it would be blowing a full gale. Uncle Billy was profoundly thankful he was not a horse leader. While Penhale and Company were buffeting80 their way over the moors81 he would be in bed, praise God, full of toddy. In the meanwhile it was bitter cold. He shifted his position somewhat so as to get more under the lee of the rock and peered downwards82 to see how they were getting on. He could not see much. The valley was a pit of darkness. A few points of light marked the position of the hamlet, window lights only. The fisher-folk knew their own place as rats know their holes and made no unnecessary show of lanterns. A stranger would have imagined the hamlet slept; in reality it was humming like a hive.
A dim half-moon of foam83 marked the in-curve of the Cove; seaward was blank darkness again. Uncle Billy, knowing what to look for and where to look, made out a slightly darker blur84 against the outer murk—the lugger riding to moorings, main and mizzen set. She was plunging85 a goodish bit, even down there under shelter of the cliffs. Uncle Billy reckoned the boat’s crews must be earning their money pulling in against wind and ebb86, and once more gave thanks he was not as other men.
The wind came whimpering over the high land, bending the gorse plumes87 before it, rattling88 the dead brambles, rustling89 the grass. Something stirred among the brambles, something living. He picked up his old Brown Bess. A whiff of scent crossed his nostrils, pungent90, clinging. He put the Bess down again. Fox. He was bitter cold, especially as to the feet. He was a widower91 and his daughter-in-law kept him short in the matter of socks. He stood up—which was against orders—and stamped the turf till he got some warmth back in his toes, sat down again and thought about the hot toddy. The lugger was still there, lunging at her moorings. They were a plaguy time landing a few kegs! Jacky’s George would have finished long before—these boys! Whew! it was cold up there!
The gale’s voice was rising to a steady scream; it broke against Uncle Billy’s rock as though it had been a wave. Shreds92 of dead bracken and grass whirled overhead. The outer darkness, which was the sea, showed momentary93 winks94 of gray—breakers. When the wind lulled95 for a second, a deep melancholy96 bay, like that of some huge beast growling97 for meat, came rolling in from the southwest—the surf on the Twelve Apostles.
There were stirrings and snappings in the brambles. That plaguy fox again, thought Uncle Billy—or else rabbits. His fingers were numb98 now. He put the Bess down beside him, blew on his hands, thrust them well down in his pockets and snuggled back against the rock. The lugger would slip moorings soon whether she had unloaded or not, and then toddy, scalding his throat, trickling down to his . . .
Something heavy dropped on him from the top of the rock, knocking him sideways, away from the gun, pinning him to the ground; hands, big and strong as brass99, took him round the throat, drove cruel thumbs into his jugular100, strangling him.
“Got him, Joe,” said a voice. “Bring rope and gag quick!” He got no hot toddy that night.
3
“Aye,” answered his mate.
“Cast off that shore boat then and let go forward soon’s she’m clear.”
“Aye, aye. Pull clear, you; look lively!”
The moorings buoy104 splashed overboard, the lugger, her mainsail backed, came round before the wind and was gone.
“Give way,” said Anson; “the wind’s getting up a fright.” He turned to Ortho. “You’ll have a trip to-night . . . rather you nor me.”
Ortho spat105 clear of the gunwale. “Have to go, I reckon; the stuff’s wanted, blast it! Has that boat ahead unloaded yet?”
“She haven’t signaled,” the bowman answered.
“No matter, pull in,” said Anson. “We haven’t no more than the leavings here; we can land this li’l’ lot ourselves. Give way, all.”
Four blades bit the water with a will, but the rowers had to bend their backs to wrench106 the gig in against the wind and tide. It was a quarter of an hour before they grounded her nose on the base of the slip.
“Drag her up a bit, boys,” said Anson. “Hell!—what’s that?”
From among the dark huddle107 of houses came a woman’s scream, two—three—and then pandemonium108, shouts, oaths, crashes, horses stamping, the noise of people rushing and struggling, and, above all, a boy’s voice hysterically109 shouting, “Fire! Curse you! Fire!”
“Christ!” said Ortho. “The Riders! Hey, push her off! For God’s sake, push!”
The two bowmen, standing in the water, put their backs to the boat and hove; Ortho and Anson in the stern used their oars pole-wise.
“All together, he-ave!”
Slowly the gig began to make stern-way.
“Heave!”
The gig made another foot. Feet clattered110 on the slip-head and a voice cried, “Here’s a boat escaping! Halt or I fire!”
“Hea-ve!” Ortho yelled. The gig made another foot and was afloat. There was a spurt111 of fire from the slip and a bullet went droning overhead. The bowman turned and dodged112 for safety among the rocks.
There were more shouts from the shore, the boy’s voice crowing shrill114 as a cockerel, a quick succession of flashes and more bullets went wailing115 by. The pair in the boat dragged at their oars, teeth locked, terrified.
Wind and tide swept them up, darkness engulfed116 them. In a couple of minutes the shots ceased and they knew they were invisible. They lay on their oars, panting.
“What now?” said Ortho. “Go after the lugger? We can’t go back.”
“Lugger’s miles away, going like a stag,” said Anson. “Best chance it across the bay to Porthleven.”
“Porthleven?”
“Where else? Wind’s dead nor’east. Lucky if we make that. Throw this stuff out; she’s riding deep as a log.”
They lightened the gig of its entire load and stepped the mast. Anson was at the halliards hoisting117 the close-reefed mainsail. Ortho kept at the tiller until there was a spit of riven air across his cheek and down came the sail on the run.
He called out, “What’s the matter?”
There was no answer for a minute, and then Anson said calmly from under the sail, “Shot, I b’lieve.”
“What is—halliards?”
“Me, b’lieve.”
“You! Shot! What d’you mean? Where?”
“In chest. Stray shot, I reckon; they can’t hit nawthing when they aim. Thee’ll have to take her thyself now. . . . O-ooh. . . .” He made a sudden, surprised exclamation118 as if the pain had only just dawned on him and began to cough.
“Hoist sail . . . thou . . . fool. . . A-ah!”
Ortho sprang forward and hoisted119 the sail; the gig leapt seawards. The coughing began again mingled120 with groans121. They stabbed Ortho to the heart. Instead of running away they should be putting back; it was a doctor they wanted. He would put back at once and get Anson attended to. That he himself would be arrested as the ringleader, tried and either hung or transported did not occur to him. Half his happy boyhood had been spent with Anson; the one thing was to ease his agony.
“You can’t,” came the reply . . . and more coughing.
Of course he couldn’t. If he had thought for a moment he would have known it. Wind and tide would not let him put back. There was nothing for it but the twelve-mile thrash across the open bay to Porthleven; he prayed there might be a doctor there.
He luffed, sheeted home, rounded the great mass of Black Carn, braced124 as sharp as he dared and met a thunder clap of wind and sea. It might have been waiting for him round the corner, so surely did it pounce125. It launched itself at him roaring, a ridge35 of crumbling126 white high overhead, a hill of water toppling over.
The loom127 and bellow101 of it stunned128 his senses, but habit is a strong master. His mind went blank, but his hand acted, automatically jamming the helm hard over. The gig had good way on; she spun129 as a horse spins on its hocks and met the monster just in time. Stood on her stern; rose, seesawed130 on the crest131, three quarters of her keel bare, white tatters flying over her; walloped down into the trough as though on a direct dive to the bottom, recovered and rose to meet the next. The wild soar of the bows sent Anson slithering aft. Ortho heard him coughing under the stroke thwart.
“She’ll never do it,” he managed to articulate. “Veer an’ let . . . let . . . her drive.”
“Where for?” Ortho shouted. “Where for? D’you hear me?”
“Scilly,” came the answer, broken by dreadful liquid chokings.
The waves broke with less violence for a minute or two and Ortho managed to get the Gamecock away before the wind, though she took a couple of heavy dollops going about.
Scilly! A handful of rocks thirty miles away in the open Atlantic, pitch dark, no stars, no compass, the Runnelstone to pass, then the Wolf! At the pace they were going they would be on the Islands long before dawn and then it would be a case of exactly hitting either Crow Sound or St. Mary’s Sound or being smashed to splinters. Still it was the only chance. He would hug the coast as near as he dared till past the Runnelstone—if he ever passed the Runnelstone—and then steer132 by the wind; it was all there was to steer by.
It was dead northeast at present, but if it shifted where would he be then? It did not bear thinking on and he put it from his mind. He must get past the Runnelstone first; after that . . .
He screwed up every nerve as tight as it would go, forced his senses to their acutest, set his teeth—swore to drive the boat to Scilly—but he had no hope of getting there, no hope at all.
The Gamecock, under her rag of canvas, ran like a hunted thing. It was as though all the crazy elements were pouring southwest, out to the open sea, and she went with them, a chip swept headlong in a torrent133 of clamorous134 wind and waters. On his right Ortho could just discern the loom of the coast. Breaker-tops broke, hissing135, astern, abeam136, ahead. Spindrift blew in flat clouds, stinging like hail. Flurries of snow fell from time to time.
He was wet through, had lost all feeling in his feet, while his hands on the sheet and tiller were so numbed137 he doubted if he could loosen them.
On and on they drove into the blind turmoil138. Anson lay in the water at the bottom, groaning139 and choking at every pitch.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
cargo
|
|
| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
haphazard
|
|
| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
oversee
|
|
| vt.监督，管理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
hitches
|
|
| 暂时的困难或问题( hitch的名词复数 )； 意外障碍； 急拉； 绳套 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bungles
|
|
| n.拙劣的工作( bungle的名词复数 )v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的第三人称单数 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
cargoes
|
|
| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
props
|
|
| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
lieutenants
|
|
| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
warriors
|
|
| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
poke
|
|
| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
martial
|
|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
gore
|
|
| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
initiate
|
|
| vt.开始，创始，发动；启蒙，使入门；引入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
delirium
|
|
| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
wiles
|
|
| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
disdained
|
|
| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
unimpeachable
|
|
| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
adhesive
|
|
| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
implicated
|
|
| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
fumed
|
|
| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
fretted
|
|
| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
gushed
|
|
| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
eliciting
|
|
| n. 诱发, 引出 动词elicit的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
syrup
|
|
| n.糖浆，糖水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
pint
|
|
| n.品脱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
blighted
|
|
| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
pricking
|
|
| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
cove
|
|
| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
skewer
|
|
| n.（烤肉用的）串肉杆；v.用杆串好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
nags
|
|
| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
feat
|
|
| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
buckling
|
|
| 扣住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
picket
|
|
| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
picketed
|
|
| 用尖桩围住（picket的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
precipice
|
|
| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
scramble
|
|
| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
propounding
|
|
| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
dabbed
|
|
| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
moor
|
|
| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
flout
|
|
| v./n.嘲弄，愚弄，轻视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
taverns
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
muster
|
|
| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
tactician
|
|
| n. 战术家, 策士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
guts
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pickets
|
|
| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
tickling
|
|
| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
wafting
|
|
| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
fumes
|
|
| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
trickling
|
|
| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
buffeting
|
|
| 振动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
downwards
|
|
| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
blur
|
|
| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
plunging
|
|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
ebb
|
|
| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
plumes
|
|
| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
rattling
|
|
| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
pungent
|
|
| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
widower
|
|
| n.鳏夫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
winks
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
lulled
|
|
| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
growling
|
|
| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
jugular
|
|
| n.颈静脉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
bellow
|
|
| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
bellowed
|
|
| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
oars
|
|
| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
buoy
|
|
| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
spat
|
|
| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
wrench
|
|
| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
huddle
|
|
| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
pandemonium
|
|
| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
hysterically
|
|
| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
clattered
|
|
| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
spurt
|
|
| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
dodged
|
|
| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
exhorted
|
|
| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
wailing
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
engulfed
|
|
| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
hoisting
|
|
| 起重，提升 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
hoisted
|
|
| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
groans
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
thwart
|
|
| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
braced
|
|
| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
pounce
|
|
| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
loom
|
|
| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
spun
|
|
| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
seesawed
|
|
| v.使上下（来回）摇动( seesaw的过去式和过去分词 )；玩跷跷板，上下（来回）摇动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
clamorous
|
|
| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
hissing
|
|
| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
abeam
|
|
| adj.正横着(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
numbed
|
|
| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
turmoil
|
|
| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |