March 28. — AT daylight we moved on, every one walking, even the youngest boy could not ride now, as the horses were so weak and jaded8. Soon after leaving the camp, one of them laid down, although the weight upon his back was very light; we were consequently obliged to distribute the few things he carried among the others, and let him follow loose. Our route lay along the beach, as the dense9 scrub inland prevented us from following any other course; we had, therefore, to go far out of our way, tracing round every point, and following along every bay, whilst the sea-weed frequently obstructed10 our path, and drove us again to the loose sands, above high water mark, causing extra fatigue11 to our unfortunate horses. At other times we were forced to go between these banks of sea-weed and the sea, into the sea itself, on which occasions it required our utmost vigilance to prevent the wretched horses from drinking the salt water, which would inevitably12 have destroyed them. In order to prevent this we were obliged to walk ourselves in the water, on the sea-side of them, one of the party being in advance, leading one horse, another being behind to keep up the rear, and the other three being at intervals13 along the outside of the line, to keep them from stopping for an instant until the danger was past.
We had scarcely advanced six miles from our last night’s camp when the little Timor pony I had purchased at Port Lincoln broke down completely; for some time it had been weak, and we were obliged to drive it loose, but it was now unable to proceed further, and we were compelled to abandon it to a miserable14 and certain death, that by pushing on, we might use every exertion16 in our power to relieve the others, though scarcely daring to hope that we could save even one of them. It was, indeed, a fearful and heart-rending scene to behold17 the noble animals which had served us so long and so faithfully, suffering the extremity19 of thirst and hunger, without having it in our power to relieve them. Five days of misery20 had passed over their heads since the last water had been left, and one hundred and twelve miles of country had been traversed without the possibility of procuring21 food for them, other than the dry and sapless remains22 of last year’s grass, and this but rarely to be met with. No rains had fallen to refresh them, and they were reduced to a most pitiable condition, still they travelled onwards, with a spirit and endurance truly surprising. Whenever we halted, they followed us about like dogs wherever we went, appearing to look to us only for aid, and exhibiting that confidence in us which I trust we all reposed25 in the Almighty26, for most truly did we feel, that in His mercy and protection alone our safety could now ever be hoped for.
About ten o’clock the tide became too high for us to keep the beach, and we were compelled to halt for some hours. Our horses were nearly all exhausted27, and I dreaded28 that when we next moved on many of them would be unable to proceed far, and that, one by one, they would all perish, overcome by sufferings which those, who have not witnessed such scenes, can have no conception of. We should then have been entirely29 dependent upon our own strength and exertions30, nearly midway between Adelaide and King George’s Sound, with a fearful country on either side of us, with a very small supply of provisions, and without water.
The position we were in, frequently forced sad forebodings with respect to the future, and though I by no means contemplated32 with apathy33 the probable fate that might await us, yet I was never for a moment undecided as to the plan it would be necessary to adopt, in such a desperate extremity — at all hazards, I was determined35 to proceed onwards.
The country we had already passed through, precluded36 all hope of our recrossing it without the horses to carry water for us, and without provisions to enable us to endure the dreadful fatigue of forced marches, across the desert. The country before us was, it is true, quite unknown, but it could hardly be worse than that we had traversed, and the chance was that it might be better. We were now pushing on for some sand-hills, marked down in Captain Flinders’ chart at about 126 1/2 degrees of east longitude37; I did not expect to procure water until we reached these, but I felt sure we should obtain it on our arrival there. After this point was passed, there appeared to be one more long push without any likelihood of procuring water, as the cliffs again became the boundary of the ocean; but beyond Cape38 Arid39, the change in the character and appearance of the country, as described by Flinders, indicated the existence of a better and more practicable line of country than we had yet fallen in with.
My overseer, however, was now unfortunately beginning to take up an opposite opinion, and though he still went through the duty devolving upon him with assiduity and cheerfulness, it was evident that his mind was ill at ease, and that he had many gloomy anticipations40 of the future. He fancied there were no sand-hills ahead, that we should never reach any water in that direction, and that there was little hope of saving any of the horses. In this latter idea I rather encouraged him than otherwise, deeming it advisable to contemplate31 the darker side of the picture, and by accustoming41 ourselves to look forward to being left entirely dependent upon our own strength and efforts, in some measure to prepare ourselves for such an event, should it unfortunately befal us. In conversing42 with him upon our prospects, and the position we should be in if we lost all our horses, I regretted extremely to find that his mind was continually occupied with thoughts of returning, and that he seemed to think the only chance of saving our lives, would be to push on to the water ourselves, and then endeavour again to return to Fowler’s Bay, where we had buried a large quantity of provisions. Still it was a gratification to find that the only European with me, did not altogether give way to despondency, and could even calmly contemplate the prospect2 before us, considering and reasoning upon the plan it might be best to adopt, in the event of our worst forebodings being realized. In discussing these subjects, I carefully avoiding irritating or alarming him, by a declaration of my own opinions and resolutions, rather agreeing with him than otherwise, at the same time, that I pointed43 out the certain risk that would attend any attempt to go back to Fowler’s Bay, and the probability there was of much less danger attending the effort to advance to King George’s Sound. With respect to the native boys, they appeared to think or care but little about the future; they were not sensible of their danger, and having something still to eat and drink, they played and laughed and joked with each other as much as ever.
Whilst waiting for the tide to fall, to enable us to proceed, the overseer dug a hole, and we buried nearly every thing we had with us, saddles, fire-arms, ammunition44, provisions; all things were here abandoned except two guns, the keg with the little water we had left, and a very little flour, tea and sugar. I determined to relieve our horses altogether from every weight (trifling as was the weight of all we had), and by pushing, if possible, on to the water, endeavour to save their lives; after which we could return for the things we had abandoned. Our arrangements being completed, we all bathed in the sea, ate a scanty45 meal, and again moved onwards at half past two o’clock.
The poor horses started better than could have been expected, but it was soon evident that all were fast failing, and many already quite exhausted. At six miles my favourite mare46 could no longer keep up with the rest, and we were obliged to let her drop behind. Her foal, now six months old, we got away with some difficulty from her, and kept it with the other horses; at four miles further another of the horses failed, and I had him tied up, in the hope that if we reached water during the evening, I might send back and recover him.
Towards dark we all imagined we saw a long point stretching to the S. W. and backed by high sandy looking cones47. We hoped that these might be the sand-hills we were pushing for, and our hearts beat high with hope once more. It, however, soon become too dark to discern anything, and at fourteen miles from where we had halted in the morning, we were again obliged by the tide to encamp for the night, as the country behind the shore was densely48 scrubby, and quite impracticable as a line of route. It was nine o’clock when we halted, and we were all very tired, and our feet somewhat inflamed49, from getting so frequently wet with the salt water, whilst endeavouring to keep the horses from it; there was no grass but the coarse wiry kind that bound the sand together, of this the poor animals cropped a little, as a very heavy dew fell, and served to moisten it. As usual, the overseer and myself kept watch upon the horses at night, whilst the natives enjoyed their undisturbed repose24. Two of the boys were young, and none of the three had their frame and muscles sufficiently52 developed to enable them to undergo the fatigue of walking during the day if deprived of their rest at night; still the duty became very hard upon two persons, where it was of constant occurrence, and superadded to the ordinary day’s labour.
March 29. — After calling up the party, I ascended53 the highest sand-hill near me, from which the prospect was cheerless and gloomy, and the point and sandy cones we imagined we had seen last night had vanished. Indeed, upon examining the chart, and considering that as yet we had advanced only one hundred and twenty-six miles from the last water, I felt convinced that we had still very far to go before we could expect to reach the sand-drifts. The supply of water we had brought for ourselves was nearly exhausted, and we could afford none for breakfast to-day; the night, however, had been cool, and we did not feel the want of it so much. Upon moving, I sent one of the natives back to the horse I had tied up, about four miles from our camp to try to bring him on to where we should halt in the middle of the day.
For ten miles we continued along the beach until we came to a bluff54 rocky ridge55, running close into the sea; here we rested until the tide fell, and to give the native boy an opportunity of rejoining us, which he did soon after, but without the horse; the poor animal had travelled about eight miles with him from the place where we had left him, but had then been unable to come any further, and he abandoned him.
Whilst the party were in camp, I sent the overseer to a distant point of land to try and get a view of the coast beyond; but upon his return, after a long walk, he told me his view to the west was obstructed by a point similar to the one I had sent him to. During the day, we had passed a rather recent native encampment, where were left some vessels56 of bark for holding water, or for collecting it from the roots of trees, or the grass. Near where we halted in the middle of the day, the foot-prints of the natives were quite fresh, and shewed that they were travelling the same way as ourselves.
For the last two or three days, we had passed many pieces of wreck4 upon the beach, oars50, thwarts58 of boats, fragments of masts, spars, etc. strewed59 about in every direction; none of them, however, appeared to have been recently deposited there, and many of the oars, and lighter60 spars, were stuck up on their ends in the sand above high water mark, probably so placed by the natives, but with what object I know not. One oar51 was stuck up upon a high sand ridge, some distance from the shore, and I spent some time in examining the place, in the vain hope that it might be an indication of our vicinity to water.
In the afternoon we all had a little tea; and after a bathe in the sea, again moved onwards; fortunately the beach was firm and hard, and the evening cool; the horses advanced slowly and steadily61, and in a way that quite surprised me. After travelling for thirteen miles, we encamped under the coast ridge late in the evening, all very much exhausted, having made several ineffectual searches for water, among the sandy ridges62, as we passed along.
In our route along the shore, we had seen immense numbers of fish in the shallow waters, and among the reefs lying off the coast; several dead ones had been picked up, and of these the boys made a feast at night. Our last drop of water was consumed this evening, and we then all lay down to rest, after turning the horses behind the first ridge of the coast, as we could find no grass; and neither the overseer nor I were able to watch them, being both too much worn out with the labours of the day, and our exertions, in searching for water.
March 30. — Getting up as soon as the day dawned, I found that some of the horses had crossed the sand ridge to the beach, and rambled63 some distance backwards64. I found, too, that in the dark, we had missed a patch of tolerable grass among the scrub, not far from our camp. I regretted this the more, as during the night a very heavy dew had fallen, and the horses might perhaps have fed a little.
Leaving the overseer to search for those that had strayed, I took a sponge, and went to try to collect some of the dew which was hanging in spangles upon the grass and shrubs65; brushing these with the sponge, I squeezed it, when saturated66, into a quart pot, which, in an hour’s time, I filled with water. The native boys were occupied in the same way; and by using a handful of fine grass, instead of a sponge, they collected about a quart among them. Having taken the water to the camp, and made it into tea, we divided it amongst the party, and never was a meal more truly relished67, although we all ate the last morsel68 of bread we had with us, and none knew when we might again enjoy either a drink of water, or a mouthful of bread. We had now demonstrated the practicability of collecting water from the dew. I had often heard from the natives that they were in the habit of practising this plan, but had never before actually witnessed its adoption69. It was, however, very cold work, and completely wet me through from head to foot, a greater quantity of water by far having been shaken over me, from the bushes, than I was able to collect with my sponge. The natives make use of a large oblong vessel57 of bark, which they hold under the branches, whilst they brush them with a little grass, as I did with the sponge; the water thus falls into the trough held for it, and which, in consequence of the surface being so much larger than the orifice of a quart pot, is proportionably sooner filled. After the sun once rises, the spangles fall from the boughs70, and no more water can be collected; it is therefore necessary to be at work very early, if success is an object of importance.
The morning was very hazy71, and at first nothing could be seen of the country before us; but as the mist gradually cleared away a long point was seen to the south-west, but so very distant that I felt certain our horses never would get there if it lay between us and the water. To our astonishment72 they kept moving steadily along the beach, which was tolerably firm near the sea, in which were many reefs and shelves of rocks, covered with muscles below low water mark. As we progressed, it was evident that the country was undergoing a considerable change; the sea shore dunes73 and the ridges immediately behind them were now of a pure white sand, and steep, whilst those further back were very high and covered with low bushes. Upon ascending74 one of the latter I had a good view around, and to my inexpressible pleasure and relief saw the high drifts of sand we were looking for so anxiously, in the corner between us and the more distant point of land first seen. The height of the intervening ridges and the sand-drifts being in the angle prevented us from noticing them sooner.
We had now travelled ten miles, and the sand-hills were about five miles further. The horses were, however, becoming exhausted, and the day was so hot that I was compelled to halt, and even now, in sight of our long-expected goal, I feared we might be too late to save them. Leaving the boys to attend to the animals, I took the overseer up one of the ridges to reconnoitre the country for the purpose of ascertaining75 whether there was no place near us where water might be procured76 by digging. After a careful examination a hollow was selected between the two front ridges of white sand, where the overseer thought it likely we might be successful. The boys were called up to assist in digging, and the work was anxiously commenced; our suspense77 increasing every moment as the well was deepened. At about five feet the sand was observed to be quite moist, and upon its being tasted was pronounced quite free from any saline qualities. This was joyous78 news, but too good to be implicitly79 believed, and though we all tasted it over and over again, we could scarcely believe that such really was the case. By sinking another foot the question was put beyond all doubt, and to our great relief fresh water was obtained at a depth of six feet from the surface, on the seventh day of our distress80, and after we had travelled one hundred and sixty miles since we had left the last water. Words would be inadequate81 to express the joy and thankfulness of my little party at once more finding ourselves in safety, and with abundance of water near us. A few hours before hope itself seemed almost extinguished, and those only who have been subjeet to a similar extremity of distress can have any just idea of the relief we experienced. The mind seemed to have been weighed down by intense anxiety and over-wrought feelings. At first the gloomy restlessness of disappointment or the feverish82 impatience83 of hope had operated upon our minds alternately, but these had long since given way to that calm settled determination of purpose, and cool steady vigour84 of action which desperate circumstances can alone inspire. Day by day our prospects of success had gradually diminished; our horses had become reduced to so dreadful a state that many had died, and all were likely to do so soon; we ourselves were weak and exhausted by fatigue, and it appeared impossible that either could have gone many miles further. In this last extremity we had been relieved. That gracious God, without whose assistance all hope of safety had been in vain, had heard our earnest prayers for his aid, and I trust that in our deliverance we recognized and acknowledged with sincerity85 and thankfulness his guiding and protecting hand. It is in circumstances only such as we had lately been placed in that the utter hopelessness of all human efforts is truly felt, and it is when relieved from such a situation that the hand of a directing and beneficent Being appears most plainly discernible, fulfilling those gracious promises which he has made, to hear them that call upon him in the day of trouble.
27
27 “When the poor and needy86 seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake87 them.”
“I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys: I will make the wilderness88 a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.” — Isa. xli. 17, 18.
As soon as each had satisfied his thirst the pots were filled and boiled for tea, and some bread was baked, whilst the overseer and natives were still increasing the size of the well to enable us to water the horses. We then got a hasty meal that we might the better go through the fatigue of attending to the suffering animals. Our utmost caution now became necessary in their management; they had been seven days without a drop of water, and almost without food also, and had suffered so much that with abundance of water near us, and whilst they were suffering agonies from the want of it, we dared not give it to them freely. Having tied them up to some low bushes, we gave each in turn about four gallons, and then driving them away for half a mile to where there was a little withered89 grass, we watched them until the evening, and again gave each about four gallons more of water.
“I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” — Isa. xliii. 19.
Whilst thus engaged, a very fine looking native with his wife and family, passed us and halted for a few moments to observe us, and procure a drink from the well we had made. This man did not seem at all alarmed, and made signs that he was going to sleep, a little further along the coast, where there was also water, pointing to the white sandhills about five miles from us. The language he spoke90 seemed to be the same as that of the other natives we had met with along the Great Bight, nor did the King George’s Sound native understand him a bit better than he had done the others.
At night one of our two remaining sheep was killed, and the overseer and myself proceeded to watch the horses for the night. The poor creatures were scarcely able to crawl, yet were restless and uneasy, and fed but little, they had tasted water and they were almost mad for it, so that it was a severe task to both myself and the overseer to keep them from returning to the well. The single sheep now left had also given us a good deal of trouble, it was frightened at being alone, and frustrated91 all our efforts to yard it, preferring to accompany and remain with the horses, — an arrangement we were obliged to acquiesce92 in.
March 31. — The morning broke wild and lowering, and the sand blew fearfully about from the drifts among which the water was. Our well had tumbled in during the night, and we had to undergo considerable labour before we could water the horses. After clearing it out, we gave each of them seven gallons, and again sent them away to the grass, letting the native boys watch them during the day, whilst we rested for a few hours, shifted our camp to a more sheltered place, weighed out a week’s allowance of flour at half a pound each per day, and made sundry93 other necessary arrangements.
Fearful of losing our only remaining sheep, if left to wander about, we made a strong yard to put it into at nights, for a long time, however, we could not get it to go near the yard, and only succeeded at last by leading in a horse first, behind which it walked quite orderly.
April 1. — The last night had been bitterly cold and frosty, and as we were badly clad, and without the means of making a large or permanent fire, we all felt acutely the severity of the weather. After breakfast, I left the overseer and natives to clear out the well, which had again fallen in, and water the horses, whilst I walked five miles along the beach to the westward94, and then turned inland to examine the sand-drifts there and search for grass. Behind the drifts I found some open sandy plains, with a coarse kind of dry grass upon them, and as they were not far from where the natives had dug wells for water, I thought the place might suit us to encamp at for a time when we left our present position. In returning to the camp, through the scrub behind the coast, I shot a fine wallabie, and saw several others; but having only cartridges95 with me, I did not like to cut up the balls for ammunition.
April 2. — Another severe cold frosty night made us fully18 sensible that the winter was rapidly closing in upon us, notwithstanding the ill-provided and unprotected state we were in to encounter its inclemencies. Our well had again tumbled in, and gave us a good deal of trouble, besides, each successive clearing out deepened it considerably96, and this took us to a level where the brackish97 water mixed with the fresh; from this cause the water was now too brackish to be palatable98, and we sunk another well apart from that used for the horses, at which to procure any water we required for our own use. During the afternoon I shot a wallabie behind the camp, but the place being densely scrubby, and the animal not quite dead, I did not get it.
On the 3rd, I sent the overseer out in one direction and I went myself out in another, to examine the country and try to procure wallabies for food. We both returned late, greatly fatigued99 with walking through dense scrubs and over steep heavy sand ridges, but without having fired a shot.
Our mutton (excepting the last sheep) being all used on the 4th, we were reduced to our daily allowance of half a pound of flour each, without any meat.
On the 5th, the overseer and one of the native boys got ready to go back for some of the stores and other things we had abandoned, forty-seven miles away. As they were likely to have severe exercise, and to be away for four days, I gave them five pounds extra of flour above their daily allowance, together with the wallabie which I had shot, and which had not yet been used; they drove before them three horses to carry their supply of water, and bring back the things sent for.
As soon as they were gone, with the assistance of the two native boys who were left, I removed the camp to the white sand-drifts, five miles further west. Being anxious to keep as near to the grass as I could, I commenced digging at some distance away from where the natives procured their water, but at a place where there were a great many rushes. After sinking to about seven feet, I found the soil as dry as ever, and removing to the native wells, with some little trouble opened a hole large enough to water all the horses. The single sheep gave us a great deal of trouble and kept us running about from one sand hill to another, until we were tired out, before we could capture it; at last we succeeded, and I tied him up for the night, resolved never to let him loose again.
In the evening I noticed the native boys looking more woe-begone and hungry than usual. Heretofore, since our mutton was consumed, they had helped out their daily half-pound of flour, with the roasted roots of the gum-scrub, but to-day they had been too busy to get any, and I was obliged to give to each a piece of bread beyond the regular allowance. It was pitiable to see them craving100 for food, and not to have the power of satisfying them; they were young and had large appetites, and never having been accustomed to any restraint of this nature, scarcity101 of food was the more sensibly felt, especially as they could not comprehend the necessity that compelled us to hoard102 with greater care than a miser15 does his gold, the little stock of provisions which we yet had left.
April 6. — The severe frost and intense cold of last night entirely deprived me of sleep, and I was glad when the daylight broke, though still weary and unrefreshed. After clearing out the well, and watering the horses, I sent one of the boys out to watch them, and gave the other the gun to try and shoot a wallabie, but after expending103 the only two charges of slugs I had left, he returned unsuccessful. At night we all made up our supper with the bark of the young roots of the gum-scrub. It appears to be extensively used for food by the natives in this district, judging from the remnants left at their encamping places. The bark is peeled off the young roots of the eucalyptus104 dumosa, put into hot ashes until nearly crisp, and then the dust being shaken off, it is pounded between two stones and ready for use. Upon being chewed, a farinaceous powder is imbibed105 from between the fibres of the bark, by no means unpleasant in flavour, but rather sweet, and resembling the taste of malt; how far a person could live upon this diet alone, I have no means of judging, but it certainly appeases106 the appetite, and is, I should suppose, nutritious107.
April 7. — Another sleepless108 night from the intense cold. Upon getting up I put a mark upon the beach to guide the overseer to our camp on his return, then weighed out flour and baked bread for the party, as I found it lasted much better when used stale than fresh. I tried to shoot some pigeons with small gravel109, having plenty of powder but no shot. My efforts were, however, in vain, for though I several times knocked them over, and tore feathers out, I killed none. The day being very clear, I ascended the highest sand-hill to obtain a view of what had appeared to us to be a long point of land, stretching to the south-west. It was now clearly recognisable as the high level line of cliffs forming the western boundary of the Great Bight, and I at once knew, that when we left our present position, we could hope for no water for at least 140 or 150 miles beyond.
The weather on the 8th and 9th suddenly became mild and soft, with the appearance of rain, but none fell. I was becoming anxious about the return of my overseer and native boy, who had been absent nine tides, when they ought to have returned in eight, and I could not help fearing some mischance had befallen them, and frequently went back wards23 and forwards to the beach, to look for them. The tenth tide found me anxiously at my post on the look out, and after watching for a long time I thought I discerned some dark objects in the distance, slowly advancing; gradually I made out a single horse, driven by two people, and at once descended110 to meet them. Their dismal111 tale was soon told. After leaving us on the 5th, they reached their destination on the 7th; but in returning one of the horses became blind, and was too weak to advance further, when they had barely advanced thirteen miles; they were consequently obliged to abandon him, and leave behind the things he had been carrying. With the other two horses they got to within five miles of the place we first procured water at on the 30th March. Here a second horse had become unable to proceed, and the things he had carried were also obliged to be left behind. They then got both horses to the first well at the sand-hills and watered them, and after resting a couple of hours came on to join me. Short as this distance was, the jaded horse could not travel it, and was left behind a mile and a half back. Having shewn the overseer and boy the camp, I sent the other two natives to fetch up the tired horse, whilst I attended to the other, and put the solitary112 sheep in for the night. By a little after dark all was arranged, and the horse that had been left behind once more with the others.
From the overseer I learnt, that during the fifty miles he had retraced114 our route to obtain the provisions we had left, he had five times dug for water: four times he had found salt water, and once he had been stopped by rock. The last effort of this kind he had made not far from where we found water on the 30th of March, and I could not but be struck with the singular and providential circumstance of our first halting and attempting to dig for water on that day in all our distress, at the very first place, and at the only place, within the 160 miles we had traversed, where water could have been procured. It will be remembered, that in our advance, we had travelled a great part of the latter portion of this distance by night, and that thus there was a probability of our having passed unknowingly some place where water might have been procured. The overseer had now travelled over the same ground in daylight, with renovated115 strength, and in a condition comparatively strong, and fresh for exertion. He had dug wherever he thought there was a chance of procuring water, but without success in any one single instance.
After learning all the particulars of the late unlucky journey, I found that a great part of the things I had sent for were still thirty-eight miles back, having only been brought twelve miles from where they had originally been left; the rest of the things were ten miles away, and as nearly all our provisions, and many other indispensable articles were among them, it became absolutely necessary that they should be recovered in some way or other, but how that was to be accomplished116 was a question which we could not so easily determine. Our horses were quite unfit for service of any kind, and the late unfortunate attempt had but added to the difficulties by which we were surrounded, and inflicted117 upon us the additional loss of another valuable animal. Many and anxious were the hours I spent in contemplating118 the circumstances we were in, and in revolving119 in my mind the best means at our command to extricate120 ourselves from so perilous121 a situation. We were still 650 miles from King George’s Sound, with an entirely unknown country before us. Our provisions, when again recovered, would be barely sufficient to last us for three weeks and a half, at a very reduced rate of allowance. Our horses were jaded and miserable beyond all conception; they could literally122 scarcely crawl, and it was evident they would be unable to move on again at all without many days’ rest where we were. On the other hand we had still the prospect of another of those fearful pushes without water to encounter, as soon as we left our present encampment, and had first to recover the provisions and other things yet so far away. Nothing could be more disheartening than our situation, and it was also one in which it was difficult to decide what was best to be done. Aware that a single false step would now be fatal to us all, I saw that our circumstances required promptness and decision. With every thing depending upon my sole judgment123, and the determination I arrived at, I felt deeply and anxiously the over-whelming responsibility that devolved upon me.
We were now about half way between Fowler’s Bay and King George’s Sound, located among barren sand-drifts, and without a drop of water beyond us on either side, within a less distance than 150 miles. Our provisions were rapidly decreasing, whilst we were lying idle and inactive in camp; and yet it would be absolutely necessary for us thus to remain for some time longer, or at once abandon the horses, and endeavour to make our way without them. To the latter, however, there were many objections, one of which was, that I well knew from the experience we had already had, that if we abandoned the horses, and had those fearful long distances to travel without water, we never could accomplish them on foot, if compelled at the same time to live upon a very low diet, to carry our arms, ammunition, and provisions, and in addition to these, a stock of water, sufficient to last six or seven days. The only thing that had enabled us to get through so far on our journey in safety, had been the having the horses with us, for though weak and jaded, they had yet carried the few things, which were indispensable to us, and which we never could have carried ourselves under the circumstances.
There was another inducement to continue with the horses, which had considerable weight with me, and however revolting the idea might be at first, it was a resource which I foresaw the desperate circumstances we were in must soon compel us to adopt. It was certainly horrible to contemplate the destruction of the noble animals that had accompanied us so far, but ere long I well knew that such would be the only chance of saving our own lives, and I hoped that by accustoming the mind to dwell upon the subject beforehand, when the evil hour did arrive, the horror and disgust would be in some degree lessened124. Upon consulting the overseer, I was glad to find that he agreed with me fully in the expediency125 of not abandoning the horses until it became unavoidable, and that he had himself already contemplated the probability of our being very shortly reduced to the alternative of using them for food.
It remained now only to decide, which way we would go when we agan moved on, whether to prosecute126 our journey to the Sound, or try to retrace113 our steps to Fowler’s Bay. On this point my own opinion never wavered for an instant. My conviction of the utter impossibility of our ever being able to recross the fearful country we had passed through with such difficulty, under circumstances so much more favourable127 than we were now in, was so strong that I never for a moment entertained the idea myself. I knew the many and frightful128 pushes without water we should have to make in any such attempt, and though the country before us was unknown, it could not well be worse than that we had passed through, whilst the probability was, that after the first long stage was accomplished, and which would take us beyond the western boundary of the Great Bight, we should experience a change in the character of the country, and be able to advance with comparative ease and facility. Unhappily my overseer differed from me in opinion upon this point.
The last desperate march we had made, had produced so strong an impression upon his mind, that he could not divest129 himself of the idea that the further we went to the westward the more arid the country would be found, and that eventually we should all perish from want of water; on the other hand, the very reduced allowance of food we were compelled to limit ourselves to, made his thoughts always turn to the depot131 at Fowler’s Bay, where we had buried a large supply of provisions of all kinds. In vain I pointed out to him the certain difficulties we must encounter in any attempt to return, the little probability there was of a single horse surviving even the first of those dreadful stages we should have to make, and the utter impossibility of our getting successfully through without the horses; and, on the other hand, the very cheering prospect there was of all our most serious difficulties being terminated as soon as we had turned the western extremity of the Bight (to accomplish which, would not occupy more than six or seven days at the furthest when we moved on,) and the strong hopes that we might then reasonably entertain of falling in with some vessel, sealing or whaling upon the coast, and from which we might obtain a fresh supply of provisions. All my arguments were fruitless. With the characteristic obedience132 and fidelity133 with which he had ever served me, he readily acquiesced134 in any plan I might decide upon adopting; but I perceived, with pain, that I could not convince him that the view I took was the proper one, and that the plan I intended to follow was the only one which held out to us even the remotest hopes of eventual130 safety and success.
Finding that I made little progress in removing his doubts on the question of our advance, I resolved to pursue the subject no further, until the time for decision came, hoping that in the interim135, his opinions and feelings might in some degree be modified, and that he might then accompany me cheerfully. The important and pressing duty of recovering at once the stores we had left behind, now claimed my attention. The overseer, with his usual anxiety to save me from any extra labour, kindly136 offered to attempt this object again; but as he had just returned from a severe, though unfortunately unsuccessful journey for the same purpose, I decided34 upon doing it myself, and at once made my preparations for leaving the camp.
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1 pony | |
adj.小型的;n.小马 | |
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2 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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3 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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4 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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5 wrecks | |
n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 );(事故中)遭严重毁坏的汽车(或飞机等);(身体或精神上)受到严重损伤的人;状况非常糟糕的车辆(或建筑物等)v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 );使(船舶)失事,使遇难,使下沉 | |
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6 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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7 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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8 jaded | |
adj.精疲力竭的;厌倦的;(因过饱或过多而)腻烦的;迟钝的 | |
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9 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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10 obstructed | |
阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 ); 堵塞; 阻碍; 阻止 | |
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11 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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12 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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13 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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14 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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15 miser | |
n.守财奴,吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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16 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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17 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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18 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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19 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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20 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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21 procuring | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的现在分词 );拉皮条 | |
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22 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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23 wards | |
区( ward的名词复数 ); 病房; 受监护的未成年者; 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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24 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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25 reposed | |
v.将(手臂等)靠在某人(某物)上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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27 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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28 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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29 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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30 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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31 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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32 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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33 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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34 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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35 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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36 precluded | |
v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 );排除;妨碍;使…行不通 | |
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37 longitude | |
n.经线,经度 | |
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38 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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39 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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40 anticipations | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
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41 accustoming | |
v.(使)习惯于( accustom的现在分词 ) | |
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42 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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43 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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44 ammunition | |
n.军火,弹药 | |
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45 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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46 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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47 cones | |
n.(人眼)圆锥细胞;圆锥体( cone的名词复数 );球果;圆锥形东西;(盛冰淇淋的)锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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48 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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49 inflamed | |
adj.发炎的,红肿的v.(使)变红,发怒,过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 oars | |
n.桨,橹( oar的名词复数 );划手v.划(行)( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51 oar | |
n.桨,橹,划手;v.划行 | |
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52 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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53 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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55 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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56 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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57 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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58 thwarts | |
阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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59 strewed | |
v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 );散落于;点缀;撒满 | |
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60 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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61 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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62 ridges | |
n.脊( ridge的名词复数 );山脊;脊状突起;大气层的)高压脊 | |
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63 rambled | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
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64 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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65 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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66 saturated | |
a.饱和的,充满的 | |
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67 relished | |
v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 );从…获得乐趣;渴望 | |
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68 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
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69 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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70 boughs | |
大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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71 hazy | |
adj.有薄雾的,朦胧的;不肯定的,模糊的 | |
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72 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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73 dunes | |
沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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74 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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75 ascertaining | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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76 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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77 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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78 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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79 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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80 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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81 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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82 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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83 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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84 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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85 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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86 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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87 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
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88 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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89 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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90 spoke | |
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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91 frustrated | |
adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
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92 acquiesce | |
vi.默许,顺从,同意 | |
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93 sundry | |
adj.各式各样的,种种的 | |
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94 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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95 cartridges | |
子弹( cartridge的名词复数 ); (打印机的)墨盒; 录音带盒; (唱机的)唱头 | |
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96 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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97 brackish | |
adj.混有盐的;咸的 | |
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98 palatable | |
adj.可口的,美味的;惬意的 | |
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99 fatigued | |
adj. 疲乏的 | |
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100 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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101 scarcity | |
n.缺乏,不足,萧条 | |
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102 hoard | |
n./v.窖藏,贮存,囤积 | |
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103 expending | |
v.花费( expend的现在分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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104 eucalyptus | |
n.桉树,桉属植物 | |
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105 imbibed | |
v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 );喝;吸取;吸气 | |
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106 appeases | |
安抚,抚慰( appease的第三人称单数 ); 绥靖(满足另一国的要求以避免战争) | |
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107 nutritious | |
adj.有营养的,营养价值高的 | |
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108 sleepless | |
adj.不睡眠的,睡不著的,不休息的 | |
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109 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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110 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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111 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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112 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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113 retrace | |
v.折回;追溯,探源 | |
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114 retraced | |
v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 );回忆;回顾;追溯 | |
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115 renovated | |
翻新,修复,整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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117 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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119 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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120 extricate | |
v.拯救,救出;解脱 | |
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121 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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122 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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123 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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124 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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125 expediency | |
n.适宜;方便;合算;利己 | |
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126 prosecute | |
vt.告发;进行;vi.告发,起诉,作检察官 | |
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127 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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128 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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129 divest | |
v.脱去,剥除 | |
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130 eventual | |
adj.最后的,结局的,最终的 | |
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131 depot | |
n.仓库,储藏处;公共汽车站;火车站 | |
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132 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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133 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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134 acquiesced | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135 interim | |
adj.暂时的,临时的;n.间歇,过渡期间 | |
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136 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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