Mr. Van Wyk, the white man of Batu Beru, an exnaval officer who, for reasons best known to himself, had thrown away the promise of a brilliant career to become the pioneer of tobacco-planting on that remote part of the coast, had learned to like Captain Whalley. The appearance of the new skipper had attracted his atten- tion. Nothing more unlike all the diverse types he had seen succeeding each other on the bridge of the Sofala could be imagined.
At that time Batu Beru was not what it has become since: the center of a prosperous tobacco-growing dis- trict, a tropically suburban-looking little settlement of bungalows1 in one long street shaded with two rows of trees, embowered by the flowering and trim luxuriance of the gardens, with a three-mile-long carriage-road for the afternoon drives and a first-class Resident with a fat, cheery wife to lead the society of married estate- managers and unmarried young fellows in the service of the big companies.
All this prosperity was not yet; and Mr. Van Wyk prospered3 alone on the left bank on his deep clearing carved out of the forest, which came down above and below to the water’s edge. His lonely bungalow2 faced across the river the houses of the Sultan: a restless and melancholy4 old ruler who had done with love and war, for whom life no longer held any savor5 (except of evil forebodings) and time never had any value. He was afraid of death, and hoped he would die before the white men were ready to take his country from him. He crossed the river frequently (with never less than ten boats crammed6 full of people), in the wistful hope of extracting some information on the subject from his own white man. There was a certain chair on the veranda7 he always took: the dignitaries of the court squatted8 on the rugs and skins between the furniture: the inferior people remained below on the grass plot between the house and the river in rows three or four deep all along the front. Not seldom the visit began at daybreak. Mr. Van Wyk tolerated these inroads. He would nod out of his bedroom window, tooth-brush or razor in hand, or pass through the throng9 of courtiers in his bathing robe. He appeared and disappeared hum- ming a tune10, polished his nails with attention, rubbed his shaved face with eau-de-Cologne, drank his early tea, went out to see his coolies at work: returned, looked through some papers on his desk, read a page or two in a book or sat before his cottage piano leaning back on the stool, his arms extended, fingers on the keys, his body swaying slightly from side to side. When abso- lutely forced to speak he gave evasive vaguely11 soothing12 answers out of pure compassion13: the same feeling per- haps14 made him so lavishly15 hospitable16 with the aerated17 drinks that more than once he left himself without soda- water for a whole week. That old man had granted him as much land as he cared to have cleared: it was neither more nor less than a fortune.
Whether it was fortune or seclusion18 from his kind that Mr. Van Wyk sought, he could not have pitched upon a better place. Even the mail-boats of the subsidized company calling on the veriest clusters of palm-thatched hovels along the coast steamed past the mouth of Batu Beru river far away in the offing. The contract was old: perhaps in a few years’ time, when it had expired, Batu Beru would be included in the service; meantime all Mr. Van Wyk’s mail was addressed to Malacca, whence his agent sent it across once a month by the Sofala. It followed that whenever Massy had run short of money (through taking too many lottery20 tickets), or got into a difficulty about a skipper, Mr. Van Wyk was deprived of his letter and newspapers. In so far he had a personal interest in the fortunes of the Sofala. Though he considered himself a hermit21 (and for no passing whim22 evidently, since he had stood eight years of it already), he liked to know what went on in the world.
Handy on the veranda upon a walnut23 etagere (it had come last year by the Sofala — everything came by the Sofala) there lay, piled up under bronze weights, a pile of the Times’ weekly edition, the large sheets of the Rotterdam Courant, the Graphic24 in its world-wide green wrappers, an illustrated25 Dutch publication with- out a cover, the numbers of a German magazine with covers of the “Bismarck malade” color. There were also parcels of new music — though the piano (it had come years ago by the Sofala in the damp atmosphere of the forests was generally out of tune. It was vexing26 to be cut off from everything for sixty days at a stretch sometimes, without any means of knowing what was the matter. And when the Sofala reappeared Mr. Van Wyk would descend27 the steps of the veranda and stroll over the grass plot in front of his house, down to the water- side, with a frown on his white brow.
“You’ve been laid up after an accident, I presume.”
He addressed the bridge, but before anybody could answer Massy was sure to have already scrambled28 ashore29 over the rail and pushed in, squeezing the palms of his hands together, bowing his sleek30 head as if gummed all over the top with black threads and tapes. And he would be so enraged31 at the necessity of having to offer such an explanation that his moaning would be posi- tively pitiful, while all the time he tried to compose his big lips into a smile.
“No, Mr. Van Wyk. You would not believe it. I couldn’t get one of those wretches32 to take the ship out. Not a single one of the lazy beasts could be induced, and the law, you know, Mr. Van Wyk. . .”
He moaned at great length apologetically; the words conspiracy33, plot, envy, came out prominently, whined34 with greater energy. Mr. Van Wyk, examining with a faint grimace35 his polished finger-nails, would say, “H’m. Very unfortunate,” and turn his back on him.
Fastidious, clever, slightly skeptical36, accustomed to the best society (he had held a much-envied shore appoint- ment at the Ministry37 of Marine38 for a year preceding his retreat from his profession and from Europe), he possessed39 a latent warmth of feeling and a capacity for sympathy which were concealed40 by a sort of haughty41, arbitrary indifference42 of manner arising from his early training; and by a something an enemy might have called foppish43, in his aspect — like a distorted echo of past elegance44. He managed to keep an almost mili- tary discipline amongst the coolies of the estate he had dragged into the light of day out of the tangle45 and shadows of the jungle; and the white shirt he put on every evening with its stiff glossy46 front and high collar looked as if he had meant to preserve the decent ceremony of evening-dress, but had wound a thick crim- son sash above his hips47 as a concession48 to the wilderness49, once his adversary50, now his vanquished51 companion.
Moreover, it was a hygienic precaution. Worn wide open in front, a short jacket of some airy silken stuff floated from his shoulders. His fluffy52, fair hair, thin at the top, curled slightly at the sides; a carefully ar- ranged mustache, an ungarnished forehead, the gleam of low patent shoes peeping under the wide bottom of trowsers cut straight from the same stuff as the gossa- mer coat, completed a figure recalling, with its sash, a pirate chief of romance, and at the same time the ele- gance of a slightly bald dandy indulging, in seclusion, a taste for unorthodox costume.
It was his evening get-up. The proper time for the Sofala to arrive at Batu Beru was an hour before sunset, and he looked picturesque54, and somehow quite cor- rect too, walking at the water’s edge on the background of grass slope crowned with a low long bungalow with an immensely steep roof of palm thatch19, and clad to the eaves in flowering creepers. While the Sofala was being made fast he strolled in the shade of the few trees left near the landing-place, waiting till he could go on board. Her white men were not of his kind. The old Sultan (though his wistful invasions were a nuisance) was really much more acceptable to his fastidious taste. But still they were white; the periodical visits of the ship made a break in the well-filled sameness of the days without disturbing his privacy. Moreover, they were necessary from a business point of view; and through a strain of preciseness in his nature he was irritated when she failed to appear at the appointed time.
The cause of the irregularity was too absurd, and Massy, in his opinion, was a contemptible57 idiot. The first time the Sofala reappeared under the new agree- ment swinging out of the bend below, after he had almost given up all hope of ever seeing her again, he felt so angry that he did not go down at once to the landing-place. His servants had come running to him with the news, and he had dragged a chair close against the front rail of the veranda, spread his elbows out, rested his chin on his hands, and went on glaring at her fixedly58 while she was being made fast opposite his house. He could make out easily all the white faces on board. Who on earth was that kind of patriarch they had got there on the bridge now?
At last he sprang up and walked down the gravel59 path. It was a fact that the very gravel for his paths had been imported by the Sofala. Exasperated60 out of his quiet superciliousness61, without looking at anyone right or left, he accosted62 Massy straightway in so determined63 a manner that the engineer, taken aback, began to stammer64 unintelligibly65. Nothing could be heard but the words: “Mr. Van Wyk . . . Indeed, Mr. Van Wyk . . . For the future, Mr. Van Wyk”— and by the suffusion66 of blood Massy’s vast bilious67 face acquired an unnatural68 orange tint69, out of which the disconcerted coal-black eyes shone in an extraordinary manner.
“Nonsense. I am tired of this. I wonder you have the impudence70 to come alongside my jetty as if I had it made for your convenience alone.”
Massy tried to protest earnestly. Mr. Van Wyk was very angry. He had a good mind to ask that German firm — those people in Malacca — what was their name?— boats with green funnels71. They would be only too glad of the opening to put one of their small steamers on the run. Yes; Schnitzler, Jacob Schnitzler, would in a moment. Yes. He had decided72 to write without delay.
In his agitation73 Massy caught up his falling pipe.
“You don’t mean it, sir!” he shrieked74.
“You shouldn’t mismanage your business in this ridiculous manner.”
Mr. Van Wyk turned on his heel. The other three whites on the bridge had not stirred during the scene. Massy walked hastily from side to side, puffed75 out his cheeks, suffocated76.
“Stuck up Dutchman!”
And he moaned out feverishly77 a long tale of griefs. The efforts he had made for all these years to please that man. This was the return you got for it, eh? Pretty. Write to Schnitzler — let in the green-funnel boats — get an old Hamburg Jew to ruin him. No, really he could laugh. . . . He laughed sobbingly78. . . . Ha! ha! ha! And make him carry the letter in his own ship presumably.
He stumbled across a grating and swore. He would not hesitate to fling the Dutchman’s correspondence overboard — the whole confounded bundle. He had never, never made any charge for that accommodation. But Captain Whalley, his new partner, would not let him probably; besides, it would be only putting off the evil day. For his own part he would make a hole in the water rather than look on tamely at the green funnels overrunning his trade.
He raved79 aloud. The China boys hung back with the dishes at the foot of the ladder. He yelled from the bridge down at the deck, “Aren’t we going to have any chow this evening at all?” then turned violently to Captain Whalley, who waited, grave and patient, at the head of the table, smoothing his beard in silence now and then with a forbearing gesture.
“You don’t seem to care what happens to me. Don’t you see that this affects your interests as much as mine? It’s no joking matter.”
He took the foot of the table growling80 between his teeth.
“Unless you have a few thousands put away somewhere. I haven’t.”
Mr. Van Wyk dined in his thoroughly81 lit-up bunga- low, putting a point of splendor82 in the night of his clearing above the dark bank of the river. Afterwards he sat down to his piano, and in a pause he became aware of slow footsteps passing on the path along the front. A plank83 or two creaked under a heavy tread; he swung half round on the music-stool, listening with his finger- tips at rest on the keyboard. His little terrier barked violently, backing in from the veranda. A deep voice apologized gravely for “this intrusion.” He walked out quickly.
At the head of the steps the patriarchal figure, who was the new captain of the Sofala apparently84 (he had seen a round dozen of them, but not one of that sort), towered without advancing. The little dog barked unceasingly, till a flick85 of Mr. Van Wyk’s handkerchief made him spring aside into silence. Captain Whalley, opening the matter, was met by a punctiliously86 polite but determined opposition87.
They carried on their discussion standing88 where they had come face to face. Mr. Van Wyk observed his visitor with attention. Then at last, as if forced out of his reserve —
“I am surprised that you should intercede89 for such a confounded fool.”
This outbreak was almost complimentary90, as if its meaning had been, “That such a man as you should intercede!” Captain Whalley let it pass by without flinching91. One would have thought he had heard nothing. He simply went on to state that he was personally interested in putting things straight between them. Personally. . .
But Mr. Van Wyk, really carried away by his disgust with Massy, became very incisive92 —
“Indeed — if I am to be frank with you — his whole character does not seem to me particularly estimable or trustworthy. . .”
Captain Whalley, always straight, seemed to grow an inch taller and broader, as if the girth of his chest had suddenly expanded under his beard.
“My dear sir, you don’t think I came here to discuss a man with whom I am — I am — h’m — closely asso- ciated.”
A sort of solemn silence lasted for a moment. He was not used to asking favors, but the importance he at- tached to this affair had made him willing to try. . . . Mr. Van Wyk, favorably impressed, and suddenly mol- lified by a desire to laugh, interrupted —
“That’s all right if you make it a personal matter; but you can do no less than sit down and smoke a cigar with me.”
A slight pause, then Captain Whalley stepped forward heavily. As to the regularity56 of the service, for the future he made himself responsible for it; and his name was Whalley — perhaps to a sailor (he was speaking to a sailor, was he not?) not altogether unfamiliar93. There was a lighthouse now, on an island. Maybe Mr. Van Wyk himself. . .
“Oh yes. Oh indeed.” Mr. Van Wyk caught on at once. He indicated a chair. How very interesting. For his own part he had seen some service in the last Acheen War, but had never been so far East. Whalley Island? Of course. Now that was very interesting. What changes his guest must have seen since.
“I can look further back even — on a whole half- century.”
Captain Whalley expanded a bit. The flavor of a good cigar (it was a weakness) had gone straight to his heart, also the civility of that young man. There was something in that accidental contact of which he had been starved in his years of struggle.
The front wall retreating made a square recess94 fur- nished like a room. A lamp with a milky95 glass shade, suspended below the slope of the high roof at the end of a slender brass96 chain, threw a bright round of light upon a little table bearing an open book and an ivory paper-knife. And, in the translucent97 shadows beyond, other tables could be seen, a number of easy-chairs of various shapes, with a great profusion98 of skin rugs strewn on the teakwood planking all over the veranda. The flowering creepers scented99 the air. Their foliage100 clipped out between the uprights made as if several frames of thick unstirring leaves reflecting the lamp- light in a green glow. Through the opening at his elbow Captain Whalley could see the gangway lantern of the Sofala burning dim by the shore, the shadowy masses of the town beyond the open lustrous101 darkness of the river, and, as if hung along the straight edge of the projecting eaves, a narrow black strip of the night sky full of stars — resplendent. The famous cigar in hand he had a moment of complacency.
“A trifle. Somebody must lead the way. I just showed that the thing could be done; but you men brought up to the use of steam cannot conceive the vast importance of my bit of venturesomeness to the Eastern trade of the time. Why, that new route reduced the average time of a southern passage by eleven days for more than half the year. Eleven days! It’s on record. But the remarkable102 thing — speaking to a sailor — I should say was. . .”
He talked well, without egotism, professionally. The powerful voice, produced without effort, filled the bungalow even into the empty rooms with a deep and limpid103 resonance104, seemed to make a stillness outside; and Mr. Van Wyk was surprised by the serene105 quality of its tone, like the perfection of manly106 gentleness. Nursing one small foot, in a silk sock and a patent leather shoe, on his knee, he was immensely entertained. It was as if nobody could talk like this now, and the overshadowed eyes, the flowing white beard, the big frame, the serenity107, the whole temper of the man, were an amazing survival from the prehistoric108 times of the world coming up to him out of the sea.
Captain Whalley had been also the pioneer of the early trade in the Gulf109 of Pe-tchi-li. He even found occasion to mention that he had buried his “dear wife” there six-and-twenty years ago. Mr. Van Wyk, impassive, could not help speculating in his mind swiftly as to the sort of woman that would mate with such a man. Did they make an adventurous110 and well-matched pair? No. Very possible she had been small, frail111, no doubt very feminine — or most likely commonplace with do- mestic instincts, utterly112 insignificant113. But Captain Whalley was no garrulous114 bore, and shaking his head as if to dissipate the momentary115 gloom that had settled on his handsome old face, he alluded116 conversationally117 to Mr. Van Wyk’s solitude118.
Mr. Van Wyk affirmed that sometimes he had more company than he wanted. He mentioned smilingly some of the peculiarities119 of his intercourse120 with “My Sultan.” He made his visits in force. Those people damaged his grass plot in front (it was not easy to obtain some approach to a lawn in the tropics, and the other day had broken down some rare bushes he had planted over there. And Captain Whalley remembered immediately that, in ‘forty-seven, the then Sultan, “this man’s grandfather,” had been notorious as a great pro- tector of the piratical fleets of praus from farther East. They had a safe refuge in the river at Batu Beru. He financed more especially a Balinini chief called Haji Daman. Captain Whalley, nodding significantly his bushy white eyebrows121, had very good reason to know something of that. The world had progressed since that time.
Mr. Van Wyk demurred122 with unexpected acrimony. Progressed in what? he wanted to know.
Why, in knowledge of truth, in decency123, in justice, in order — in honesty too, since men harmed each other mostly from ignorance. It was, Captain Whalley con- cluded quaintly124, more pleasant to live in.
Mr. Van Wyk whimsically would not admit that Mr. Massy, for instance, was more pleasant naturally than the Balinini pirates.
The river had not gained much by the change. They were in their way every bit as honest. Massy was less ferocious125 than Haji Daman no doubt, but. . .
“And what about you, my good sir?” Captain Whalley laughed a deep soft laugh. “YOU are an im- provement, surely.”
He continued in a vein126 of pleasantry. A good cigar was better than a knock on the head — the sort of wel- come he would have found on this river forty or fifty years ago. Then leaning forward slightly, he became earnestly serious. It seems as if, outside their own sea- gypsy tribes, these rovers had hated all mankind with an incomprehensible, bloodthirsty hatred127. Meantime their depredations128 had been stopped, and what was the consequence? The new generation was orderly, peace- able, settled in prosperous villages. He could speak from personal knowledge. And even the few survivors129 of that time — old men now — had changed so much, that it would have been unkind to remember against them that they had ever slit130 a throat in their lives. He had one especially in his mind’s eye: a dignified131, venerable headman of a certain large coast village about sixty miles sou’west of Tampasuk. It did one’s heart good to see him — to hear that man speak. He might have been a ferocious savage132 once. What men wanted was to be checked by superior intelligence, by superior knowledge, by superior force too — yes, by force held in trust from God and sanctified by its use in accordance with His declared will. Captain Whalley believed a dis- position for good existed in every man, even if the world were not a very happy place as a whole. In the wisdom of men he had not so much confidence. The dis- position had to be helped up pretty sharply sometimes, he admitted. They might be silly, wrongheaded, unhappy; but naturally evil — no. There was at bottom a complete harmlessness at least. . .
“Is there?” Mr. Van Wyk snapped acrimoniously133.
Captain Whalley laughed at the interjection, in the good humor of large, tolerating certitude. He could look back at half a century, he pointed55 out. The smoke oozed134 placidly135 through the white hairs hiding his kindly136 lips.
“At all events,” he resumed after a pause, “I am glad that they’ve had no time to do you much harm as yet.”
This allusion137 to his comparative youthfulness did not offend Mr. Van Wyk, who got up and wriggled138 his shoulders with an enigmatic half-smile. They walked out together amicably139 into the starry140 night towards the river-side. Their footsteps resounded141 unequally on the dark path. At the shore end of the gangway the lantern, hung low to the handrail, threw a vivid light on the white legs and the big black feet of Mr. Massy waiting about anxiously. From the waist upwards142 he remained shadowy, with a row of buttons gleaming up to the vague outline of his chin.
“You may thank Captain Whalley for this,” Mr. Van Wyk said curtly143 to him before turning away.
The lamps on the veranda flung three long squares of light between the uprights far over the grass. A bat flitted before his face like a circling flake144 of velvety145 blackness. Along the jasmine hedge the night air seemed heavy with the fall of perfumed dew; flower- beds bordered the path; the clipped bushes uprose in dark rounded clumps146 here and there before the house; the dense147 foliage of creepers filtered the sheen of the lamplight within in a soft glow all along the front; and everything near and far stood still in a great im- mobility148, in a great sweetness.
Mr. Van Wyk (a few years before he had had occasion to imagine himself treated more badly than anybody alive had ever been by a woman) felt for Captain Whalley’s optimistic views the disdain149 of a man who had once been credulous150 himself. His disgust with the world (the woman for a time had filled it for him com- pletely) had taken the form of activity in retirement151, because, though capable of great depth of feeling, he was energetic and essentially152 practical. But there was in that uncommon153 old sailor, drifting on the outskirts154 of his busy solitude, something that fascinated his skepticism. His very simplicity155 (amusing enough) was like a delicate refinement156 of an upright character. The striking dignity of manner could be nothing else, in a man reduced to such a humble157 position, but the expression of something essentially noble in the character. With all his trust in mankind he was no fool; the seren- ity of his temper at the end of so many years, since it could not obviously have been appeased158 by success, wore an air of profound wisdom. Mr. Van Wyk was amused at it sometimes. Even the very physical traits of the old captain of the Sofala, his powerful frame, his re- poseful mien159, his intelligent, handsome face, the big limbs, the benign160 courtesy, the touch of rugged161 severity in the shaggy eyebrows, made up a seductive person- ality. Mr. Van Wyk disliked littleness of every kind, but there was nothing small about that man, and in the exemplary regularity of many trips an intimacy162 had grown up between them, a warm feeling at bottom under a kindly stateliness of forms agreeable to his fastidious- ness.
They kept their respective opinions on all worldly matters. His other convictions Captain Whalley never intruded163. The difference of their ages was like another bond between them. Once, when twitted with the uncharitableness of his youth, Mr. Van Wyk, running his eye over the vast proportions of his interlocutor, re- torted in friendly banter164 —
“Oh. You’ll come to my way of thinking yet. You’ll have plenty of time. Don’t call yourself old: you look good for a round hundred.”
But he could not help his stinging incisiveness165, and though moderating it by an almost affectionate smile, he added —
“And by then you will probably consent to die from sheer disgust.”
Captain Whalley, smiling too, shook his head. “God forbid!”
He thought that perhaps on the whole he deserved something better than to die in such sentiments. The time of course would have to come, and he trusted to his Maker166 to provide a manner of going out of which he need not be ashamed. For the rest he hoped he would live to a hundred if need be: other men had been known; it would be no miracle. He expected no miracles.
The pronounced, argumentative tone caused Mr. Van Wyk to raise his head and look at him steadily167. Captain Whalley was gazing fixedly with a rapt expression, as though he had seen his Creator’s favorable decree written in mysterious characters on the wall. He kept perfectly168 motionless for a few seconds, then got his vast bulk on to his feet so impetuously that Mr. Van Wyk was startled.
He struck first a heavy blow on his inflated169 chest: and, throwing out horizontally a big arm that remained steady, extended in the air like the limb of a tree on a windless day —
“Not a pain or an ache there. Can you see this shake in the least?”
His voice was low, in an awing170, confident contrast with the headlong emphasis of his movements. He sat down abruptly171.
“This isn’t to boast of it, you know. I am nothing,” he said in his effortless strong voice, that seemed to come out as naturally as a river flows. He picked up the stump172 of the cigar he had laid aside, and added peace- fully53, with a slight nod, “As it happens, my life is necessary; it isn’t my own, it isn’t — God knows.”
He did not say much for the rest of the evening, but several times Mr. Van Wyk detected a faint smile of assurance flitting under the heavy mustache.
Later on Captain Whalley would now and then consent to dine “at the house.” He could even be induced to drink a glass of wine. “Don’t think I am afraid of it, my good sir,” he explained. “There was a very good reason why I should give it up.”
On another occasion, leaning back at ease, he remarked, “You have treated me most — most humanely173, my dear Mr. Van Wyk, from the very first.”
“You’ll admit there was some merit,” Mr. Van Wyk hinted slyly. “An associate of that excellent Massy. . . . Well, well, my dear captain, I won’t say a word against him.”
“It would be no use your saying anything against him,” Captain Whalley affirmed a little moodily174. “As I’ve told you before, my life — my work, is necessary, not for myself alone. I can’t choose” . . . He paused, turned the glass before him right round. . . . “I have an only child — a daughter.”
The ample downward sweep of his arm over the table seemed to suggest a small girl at a vast distance. “I hope to see her once more before I die. Meantime it’s enough to know that she has me sound and solid, thank God. You can’t understand how one feels. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh; the very image of my poor wife. Well, she. . .”
Again he paused, then pronounced stoically the words, “She has a hard struggle.”
And his head fell on his breast, his eyebrows remained knitted, as by an effort of meditation175. But generally his mind seemed steeped in the serenity of boundless176 trust in a higher power. Mr. Van Wyk wondered sometimes how much of it was due to the splendid vitality177 of the man, to the bodily vigor178 which seems to impart something of its force to the soul. But he had learned to like him very much.
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bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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haps
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| n.粗厚毛披巾；偶然，机会，运气( hap的名词复数 ) | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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aerated
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| v.使暴露于空气中，使充满气体( aerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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19
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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20
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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21
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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22
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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23
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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24
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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25
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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26
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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27
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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28
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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29
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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30
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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31
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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32
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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33
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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34
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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35
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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36
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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37
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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38
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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39
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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40
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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41
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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42
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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43
foppish
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| adj.矫饰的，浮华的 | |
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44
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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45
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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46
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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47
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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48
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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49
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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50
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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51
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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52
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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53
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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54
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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55
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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56
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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57
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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58
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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59
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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60
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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61
superciliousness
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| n.高傲，傲慢 | |
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62
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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63
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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64
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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65
unintelligibly
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| 难以理解地 | |
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66
suffusion
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| n.充满 | |
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67
bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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68
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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69
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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70
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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71
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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72
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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73
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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74
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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76
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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77
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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78
sobbingly
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| 啜泣地，呜咽地，抽抽噎噎地 | |
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79
raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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80
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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81
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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82
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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83
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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84
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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85
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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86
punctiliously
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87
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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88
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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89
intercede
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| vi.仲裁，说情 | |
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90
complimentary
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|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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91
flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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92
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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93
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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94
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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95
milky
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|
| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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96
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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97
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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98
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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99
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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100
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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101
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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102
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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103
limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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104
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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105
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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106
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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107
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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108
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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109
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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110
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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111
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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112
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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113
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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114
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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115
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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116
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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118
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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119
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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120
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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121
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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122
demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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124
quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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125
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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126
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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127
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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128
depredations
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| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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129
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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130
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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131
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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132
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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133
acrimoniously
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| adv.毒辣地，尖刻地 | |
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134
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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135
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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136
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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137
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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138
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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139
amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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140
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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141
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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142
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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143
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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144
flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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145
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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146
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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147
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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148
mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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149
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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150
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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151
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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152
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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153
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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154
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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155
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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156
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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157
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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158
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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159
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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160
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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162
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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163
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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164
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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165
incisiveness
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| n.敏锐，深刻 | |
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166
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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167
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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168
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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169
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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170
awing
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| adj.& adv.飞翔的[地]v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的现在分词 ) | |
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171
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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172
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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173
humanely
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| adv.仁慈地；人道地；富人情地；慈悲地 | |
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174
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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175
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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176
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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177
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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178
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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