“But what shall I do?” he asked himself. “The boys haven’t any boat, and I’ve got the eatables.”
It seemed hard that he should fall from one nerve-racking experience into another, with scarcely a breathing space between times.
For the next five minutes or so he studied the surface of the water, hoping that a time would come when the ice ran less thick; but he realized that each minute of waiting was precious daylight lost. Running down the sloping bank of the levee, he tumbled his bundles into the frail3 little boat, unmoored her, and pushed out between two monster river steamboats.
For a minute he paused to pull himself together, saw that all was snug4 on board, settled his cap more firmly on his head, and prepared for the struggle to come.
Then out from the shelter of the huge boats he shot—nerves tense, eyes alert; “His Nibs” was on its best behavior, and obeyed its master’s slightest touch, as if it understood the desperate situation. The rowboat was short, and so could spin around like a top on occasion.
The river seemed bent5 on destroying the boy and his little craft. It hurled6 great chunks7 of sharp-edged ice at him in quick succession, but he always succeeded in dodging8 them somehow. Twisting this way and that, now up stream, now down, he made his way painfully over toward the “Gazelle,” lying so peacefully at anchor in the little cove9 near the other shore. A warning shout told the three boys that the captain they were so anxious about was returning, and they rushed on deck to greet him. It was well they did so, for he had hardly strength enough to throw them “His Nibs’s” painter and climb aboard.
“Boys,” said Ransom10, after he had told of his adventures, “St. Louis is a nice city, but let’s get out. It’s hoodooed for me.”
In spite of Ransom’s determination to leave St. Louis at once, however, it was several days before the ice permitted them to move from their anchorage. Many friends had been made in the meantime, and nothing unpleasant occurred, so that it was with a feeling of regret rather than of joy that the voyagers finally pulled up the mud hook and began in earnest the sail down the Mississippi.
The newspapers had found out that the “Gazelle” and her crew were in port, and many of the inhabitants knew about and were interested in the little craft and her youthful sailors.
The channel followed the city side of the river, and as the “Gazelle” got under way the steamboats lining12 the levee, bow in, stern out, gave her a rousing salute13 on whistles of varying tones. People on deck waved their hands and shouted “Good luck!” and a “God speed!”
The ice was still very much in evidence, and kept the steersman busy on the lookout14; but Kenneth managed in spite of that to enjoy the attention which they received.
“St. Louis is not so bad a place, after all,” he declared with a change of heart.
The ice gave the youngsters a great deal of trouble. It was necessary to keep on the watch continually, and to luff or tack15 every little while to avoid slamming into a jagged-edged piece. The channel was very crooked16, and crossed continually from one side of the stream to the other. The “Father of Waters” had a decided17 mind of his own, and no matter how carefully and laboriously18 a straight channel was dredged, he was quite likely to abandon it and make a new one.
The boys found the course a continual puzzle, and fairly gasped19 when they thought of the 1,200 miles of it still before them. But though the experience was trying, it was valuable, and especially so to Ransom, who learned just what a boat can do under numerous and ever varying circumstances. It was the most intimate sort of experience; their very existence depending upon surmounting20 each difficulty in turn.
The first afternoon’s run was thirty-eight miles, which, considering the many delays on account of ice, the “crossings” and their unfamiliarity21 with the river’s peculiarities22, the boys thought very good. It was a rather trying sail, however, and all hands were glad when a snug little bend opened up—deep enough to give shelter to the yacht.
All four of the boys were by this time well-seasoned sailors. They had had some hard knocks, had been through many close shaves, knew what it was to be cold, hungry, and tired; but as time went on they had become closer and closer friends. They learned to put up with each other’s little peculiarities, and shook down into a harmonious23 ship’s company—a cheerful atmosphere prevailed that promised final success, and was not only an inspiration to themselves but to all who saw it. Their solid friendship was to be sorely tested. Just how solid it was, was shortly to be proved in a most unexpected manner.
Each had his special duties to perform, and as the voyage grew in length each became more and more proficient24. This was especially true of the cook, Clyde. Not that he was a poor one at the start, for he had shipped with the recommendation that in ten minutes he could cook a meal that the four could not eat in ten days. This was a little far-fetched, however, for the “rules and regulations” very plainly stated that any one who could not satisfy his appetite in five hours would be obliged to wait until the next meal. Nevertheless, the cook was very modest, and explained his improvement by saying that it was due to his becoming familiar with his quarters. In proof of which, lie showed some pancakes which were not only round but also flat. In the beginning, owing to the listing of the vessel25 under the pressure of the wind on her sails, the batter26 would run to one side of the pan, and the pancakes were often quite able to stand alone on end.
None of the boys could handle a needle very deftly27 at first, but they soon became very good seamsters. They even progressed so far in the art that they began to openly boast of their skill. Frank returned one night from a hunting trip ashore28 with a number of ducks and a shy look about him which his companions were at a loss to account for, until they discovered an unbecomingly big tear in his trousers. After supper he tackled the gap with a big needle and a couple of yards of linen29 thread. He wanted to have it good and strong, he explained.
Frank did not bother to take his trousers off, but began to sew the rent baseball-seam fashion, and though the result was not elegant as regards mere30 looks, he certainly accomplished31 his object, and he was justly proud of his achievement.
“Any of you fellows want any sewing done?” he remarked airily, as he sawed off the end of the thread. “I am going to paint on the mainsail, in beautiful, gilt32 script letters, ‘Monsieur Chauvet, Modes,’ and rig you fellows up in natty33 sailor uniforms to ferry my customers over to me.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Arthur remarked (he had been busy writing while Frank was embroidering); “I can sew (lo) a little, myself; listen.”
He dodged34 a pillow, a spool35, a ball of tarred twine36 and a book, and then began the following:
Gazelle, Gazelle,
She’ll run pell mell,
With every stitch a-drawing,
O’er waters smooth
And waters rough,
The seas her forefoot spurning37.
Gazelle, Gazelle,
She’s quite a swell38;
But yet there’s no denying,
If needs she must
Do it or bust39,
She’ll be at anchor lying.
Gazelle, Gazelle,
You must do well,
On you depends our winning;
For ’tis our boast,
From lake to coast,
You’ll bring us through a-spinning.
“For the sake of the song we’ll forgive the pun, if you never let it occur again,” said Ransom judicially40.
It was late when they turned in that night, and Ransom was just on the verge41 of dozing42 off when he heard a great rustling43 in Frank’s bunk44 across the cabin. Clyde and Arthur were asleep, so Ransom whispered, “What’s the matter, old man?”
“Oh, Ken1, I’m in trouble.” There was a kind of gurgle in his voice that stilled the captain’s anxiety. “If ever I get toploftical, you just pipe up a song about a fellow that sewed his outer clothes to his underclothes.” Then followed a savage45, ripping sound, which bespoke46 a tragedy, and all was still again.
In spite of their best efforts, it seemed as if the elements were against the young voyagers. One day a heavy mist fell, and made the following of the channel nothing more nor less than a game of blindman’s buff, with the fun excluded, and a few sand bars, rocks and snags thrown in to make it interesting. Another day the snow fell so heavily that they had to tie up, the channel marks being obscured. Here they went ashore and visited the town of Herculaneum, a mining village, where Arthur and Kenneth took in the lead-smelting furnaces, while Frank and Clyde stayed aboard.
Just before dark some river steamers passed and showed them the channel, and the boys gladly took advantage of their lead. The government dredges afforded Kenneth and his friends an opportunity to get acquainted with a new kind of craft, which the young ship designer was especially glad of. The government’s dredging and snag-pulling boats are among the largest and most expensive in the world. It takes an endless amount of money and effort to harness the Mississippi, and the government is making a great fight to keep the river free of obstructions47.
At Wittenberg, Missouri, where the boys tied up for a night, they got some much appreciated information from the usually taciturn river men about the Grand Tower Whirlpool. It was a spot which they had heard of way back in the Illinois River towns, as one of the most dangerous places on the old Mississippi.
It is the graveyard49 of many a fine river packet, and it can hardly be wondered at that our cruisers dreaded50 it greatly. A sharp bend in the river makes an eddy52 that has terrible suction power. To the left the water shoals rapidly, the bottom is covered with rocks, and is the resting place of snags, logs and all the débris that menace navigation. Between this “Scylla and Charybdis” is the narrow channel. It is a spot to make even the experienced steamboat man think of his accident insurance policy, and it seemed almost madness for the young sailors, aided by the wind alone, to attempt to run the dangerous place.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Half a gale53 was blowing straight down stream—that is, straight down stream when the river happened to flow north and south. Little whitecaps were puffed54 up from the brown flood, and streaks55 of ripples56 showed where the wind got a favorable slant57. It looked squally, and it required all the resolution that the boys possessed58 to make the trial, the outcome of which would mean success or destruction. But they knew that indecision went hand in hand with failure, and they took their courage in both hands manfully and prepared for the ordeal59.
“You can keep her going with a wind like this back of you,” a new-found friend shouted as he cast off the line. “You’ll have plenty of steerage way. Follow the marks, and you’re O. K.” The last words grew fainter and fainter as the “Gazelle” fled away before the wind like a bird. Her motion was so swift, so sure, that the sailors she bore took heart and watched eagerly for the marks that would tell of their approach to the dread51 spot.
“There’s the beacon60,” shouted Frank, who was on lookout duty forward.
Kenneth shifted the helm a little and bore nearer to shore.
“There’s the other one,” yelled Frank, “off our port bow.”
Again the tiller was moved, this time a trifle to starboard.
The wind was blowing dead aft, almost a gale, and the “Gazelle” fled before it like a frightened thing. The speed of the current, too, increased. They were going like a race horse. Floating cakes of ice were left behind in a trice; the trees on shore flashed past like spectres. It was a terrible pace. They passed a point, and there in the curve of the bend the whirlpool seethed—a veritable cauldron of tumbling, foaming61, riotous62 water. To the left the water was broken and frothy. The tough roots of uprooted63 trees reached out of the worried stream, and black rocks protruded64 like ugly teeth.
Between the two places of destruction ran a smooth, swift, straight channel, and for this the “Gazelle” headed like a well-aimed arrow. In an instant she was speeding through. To the right the whirlpool twisted and tossed—on the other side gaped65 the rock-toothed shoal. Straight on flew the boat, swifter and swifter, her crew quiet and steady, ready for whatever might come.
In a moment it was over, and the yacht was sailing smoothly66 on the comparatively still waters beyond.
“Good work, old girl!” Kenneth exclaimed half aloud. With each trial the boys had gained confidence in the boat until they had come to have an affection for her that made them wish there was some personal way of showing her their trust and regard.
The channel beyond Grand Tower was straight, deep and broad. The “Gazelle” bounded along, the breeze astern, at such a swift pace that she covered the twelve good miles to Devil’s Island in one hour.
The crew were in high glee now, and enjoyed every minute to the full; but, after all, they merely served to prove the truth of the proverb: “Pride goeth before a fall.”
The water shoaled rapidly, and all at once, without warning of any kind, the yacht stopped as if some giant’s hand had grasped her keel and suddenly stayed her flight. Why it did not shake the masts off from her, the crew could never understand.
“Pull up the board, Clyde!” Kenneth shouted to that member of the company, who was below when the shock came. The boy picked himself up, and pulled at the line which ran through a pulley made fast to the deck beams, and through a corresponding block on the centre-board. He tugged67 and tugged, but the weight of the wind on the sails jammed the board in its trunk, and he could not move it.
The canvas was lowered and then the board came up. Arthur took “His Nibs” and an anchor which he intended to drop overboard some distance from the yacht, when it would serve as a kedge to pull her over the obstruction48, but before the mate got far enough to drop the hook, the sails, which had been raised meantime, caught the strong wind and hurried the yacht over the bar.
The “Gazelle” bounded forward.
“Heave over the anchor, Art!” Kenneth shouted, as he jumped to the tiller. But the iron was so heavy and the speed of the yacht so great that the slack was taken in before the mate could obey the command. In an instant “His Nibs” was capsized and the mate was swimming round in the cold water in company with the cakes of ice. He soon found that the water only reached to his waist, however, and he waded68 quickly to “His Nibs,” bailed69 the boat out, and paddled over to the “Gazelle,” which had meantime come up into the wind and was fast to the anchor dropped when the small boat capsized.
“Well,” said Arthur, as he scrambled70 aboard, “maybe I got excited, but I kept cool all right.” He chuckled71 at his wit, though his teeth chattered72 suggestively, and he had a blue look which his friends did not like to see. A sharp rub down, a change of clothing, and a cup of hot coffee brought him around in short order.
After this experience luck seemed to be with the boys. They sailed down the wide river, crossing from side to side as the channel dictated73, but with favoring winds and bright skies. The great stream was never monotonous74, especially to the crew of a sailing craft. It is full of surprises and interests; its channel turns and twists many times in a mile and changes every day.
But woe75 betide the vessel that depended on a misplaced beacon. It was this that nearly, so very nearly, ended the career of the “Gazelle” and her crew. At Goose Island, on the Missouri side, they ran aground, having laid their course according to a misplaced light.
It was a very serious situation which these youngsters had to face. The boat was caught hard and fast in a stream running from four to five miles an hour, carrying great chunks of ice that struck all obstacles with the force of battering76 rams77. The bar was almost in midstream, too far away from shore to hail. A small boat of “His Nibs’s” strength would not live in the ice ten minutes. It was about as grim a predicament as could be imagined. All the sails were spread, the board raised, and the crew, with the exception of the man at the helm, shoved with oars78 for hours; but the “Gazelle” did not budge79 an inch.
Then they tried to take an anchor out, but “His Nibs” was no sooner put overboard than a big cake of ice came along and gave the light little craft such a terrific thump80 that the boys pulled her in hurriedly—they could not afford to run any risks with the only means they had of reaching shore.
Hour by hour the cold increased, until it got close to the zero mark, and as the weather became colder the streams supplying the Mississippi froze up, and the water of the great stream grew less and less.
The boys worked with desperation—stayed up late at night and rose at daybreak, hoping for a rise of water or a favorable slant of wind. The increased cold made it necessary to keep the oil stove burning, and the fuel began to get low. While sailing along the river, whose banks were lined with towns, the boys did not lay in a great stock of provisions; they thought it better to get them in fresh as frequently as possible.
“Well, Ken,” Clyde remarked the third day of their imprisonment81 on the bar, “we will have to live on raw potatoes and river water pretty soon. My oil is about gone, and everything else is almost eaten up.”
“There is one more thing to do,” the captain said at length. “Throw out our pig iron ballast. I hate to lose it, but it is the only thing left to do.”
All of the boys showed the effects of tremendously hard work, of the fight with cold and ice, with wind and water, but Kenneth was particularly worn. On him fell the responsibility. The others were in his care, and if anything happened to them he knew he would be held accountable. The constant strain, the lack of sleep—he was up all hours of the night—and his anxiety, told on even his rugged82 health. He grew perceptibly thinner in three days, dark rings showed under his eyes, and little things vexed83 him unwarrantably. They were all irritable84, and it speaks well for their closely knit friendship that no words arose between them.
“Well, boys,” Kenneth said, cheerfully enough, “let’s play our last card. Let’s turn to and throw over the ballast.”
It was hard work lugging85 the heavy sash weights that made up the ballast from below and throwing them over the side. There was at least half a ton to be discarded, and by the time the last of it was overboard the boys thought that there must have been tons.
Guess, then, how their hearts leaped with joy when at last, after three weary days, the “Gazelle” floated over the bar and into deeper water. But it was a short-lived triumph, for they speedily found that there was another bar across the channel—the low water almost bared it, and they realized that they were trapped in a little basin a half-mile from shore, with absolutely no protection from the ice, which was running heavier and heavier.
To anchor and wait, trusting to Providence86, was all that they could do. So two anchors were dropped, and the boys faced the situation. The weather continued piercing cold. The oil gave out altogether, and then the crew had to live on cold things and exist as best they could in the cold cabin.
“SAW THE GREAT CAKES OF ICE GO RACING87 BY.”
The strain was even harder to bear than the cold and hunger. Great chunks of ice came sailing down on them continually, and the boys wondered each time if the “Gazelle” would be able to stand another such hard knock.
The bar beyond caught the majority of the larger chunks, and soon an ice gorge88 was formed that hourly grew bigger until the “Gazelle’s” stern was not twenty yards from it. Each new cake added to the heap, and formed new teeth, which were ever moving in the rushing current—teeth which would grind up any living thing in a very few moments.
The second night after the “Gazelle” got afloat the boys were in the cabin, and all but Kenneth had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion—the recurring89 bumps of drifting cakes of ice not disturbing them in the least. But Ransom could not sleep. He could not forget the horrible danger which they were in, nor could he shut his ears to the sound of crunching90 ice just behind the yacht.
Of a sudden there came a jar with a new quality in it. Ransom rushed up the companionway, grabbing his woollen cap as he ran, then forward over the icy deck. He found the ragged91, frayed92 end of the anchor cable hanging overboard. The constant rubbing of the ice had weakened it, and the extra heavy floe93 had completely sundered94 it. There was but one anchor now to depend on; if that should fail them, it would mean instant destruction to the yacht and certain death for her crew.
It was too great a risk to run—that other anchor must be found somehow, and its holding power made good again.
Realizing that his companions would try to deter11 him from the desperate undertaking95 which he had in mind, Ransom did not call his friends, but quietly launched “His Nibs” from the stern, in spite of the current and the remorseless ice, and drawing her forward by the painter he got in at the bow and prepared to feel for the parted anchor cable with a boat hook. He pulled hand over hand on the cable of the other anchor, and finally gained a point where he thought he might begin to reach for the sunken line. It was well past midnight, and so dark that everything had to be done by sense of touch only. Intensely cold, the oars, the line he was holding, and the boat hook—everything, in fact, was coated with a slippery skin of ice.
Holding on by one hand to the anchor cable and the boat hook with the other, Kenneth began to grope for the other line. His right arm ached with the exertion96 of feeling on the bottom with a heavy boat hook, while his left wrist seemed about to break with the strain put upon it; the cold nipped at his exposed face and wet, mittened97 hands. But still he persevered98. At last he felt the touch of the line at the end of his pole; he began to haul in slowly—holding with his elbow the pole as he took a fresh hold further up. Suddenly a huge floe struck the little boat, dragging the anchor line out of his grasp, and pulled him backwards99 into the bottom of the boat. The current swept him back past the “Gazelle” and on toward the gnashing teeth of the gorge.
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1
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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2
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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3
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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4
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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5
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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6
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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7
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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8
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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9
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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10
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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11
deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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12
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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13
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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14
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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15
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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16
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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17
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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19
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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surmounting
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| 战胜( surmount的现在分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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unfamiliarity
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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23
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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proficient
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| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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27
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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spool
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| n.（缠录音带等的）卷盘（轴）；v.把…绕在卷轴上 | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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spurning
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的现在分词 ) | |
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38
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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42
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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43
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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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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bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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47
obstructions
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| n.障碍物( obstruction的名词复数 )；阻碍物；阻碍；阻挠 | |
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48
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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49
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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50
dreaded
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| 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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51
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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52
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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53
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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54
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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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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56
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bailed
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| 保释，帮助脱离困境( bail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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71
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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73
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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rams
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| n.公羊( ram的名词复数 )；(R-)白羊（星）座；夯；攻城槌v.夯实（土等）( ram的第三人称单数 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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oars
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| 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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79
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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80
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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81
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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82
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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83
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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84
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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85
lugging
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| 超载运转能力 | |
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86
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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88
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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90
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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91
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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92
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
floe
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| n.大片浮冰 | |
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94
sundered
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| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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96
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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97
mittened
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| v.（使）变得潮湿，变得湿润( moisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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