We must now change the scene, and beg our readers to accompany us once more to Covelly, where, not long after the events narrated3 in the last chapter, an interesting ceremony was performed, which called out the inhabitants in vast numbers. This was the presentation of a new lifeboat to the town, and the rewarding of several men who had recently been instrumental in saving life in circumstances of peculiar5 danger.
The weather was propitious6. A bright sun and a calm sea rejoiced the eyes of the hundreds who had turned out to witness the launch. The old boat, which had saved our heroine years before, and had rescued many more since that day from the angry sea, was worn out, and had to be replaced by one of the magnificent new boats built on the self-righting principle, which had but recently been adopted by the Lifeboat Institution. A lady of the neighbourhood, whose only daughter had been saved by the old boat some time before, had presented the purchase-money of the new one (400 pounds) to the Institution; and, with the promptitude which characterises all the movements of that Society, a fine self-righting lifeboat, with all the latest improvements, had been sent at once to the port.
High on her carriage, in the centre of the town, the new lifeboat stood—gay and brilliant in her blue and white paint, the crew with their cork7 lifebelts on, and a brass8 band in front, ready to herald9 her progress to the shore. The mayor of the town, with all the principal men, headed the procession, and a vast concourse of people followed. At the shore the boat was named the Rescue by the young lady whose life had been saved by the old one, and amid the acclamations of the vast multitude, the noble craft was shot off her carriage into the calm sea, where she was rowed about for a considerable time, and very critically examined by her crew; for, although the whole affair was holiday-work to most of those who looked on, the character of the new boat was a matter of serious import to those who manned her, and who might be called on to risk their lives in her every time their shores should be lashed10 by a stormy sea.
Our hero, Harry11 Boyns, held the steering13 oar14. He had been appointed by the parent Institution to the position of “Local Secretary of the Covelly Lifeboat Branch,” and, of course, was anxious to know the qualities of his vessel15.
Harry, we may remark in passing, having lost his situation, and finding that his mother’s health was failing, had made up his mind to stay on shore for a year or two, and seek employment in his native town. Being a well-educated man, he obtained this in the office of a mercantile house, one of the partners of which was related to his mother.
The rowing powers of the new boat were soon tested. Then Harry steered16 to the pier17, where a tackle had been prepared for the purpose of upsetting her. This was an interesting point in the proceedings18, because few there had seen a self-righting boat, and, as usual, there was a large sprinkling in the crowd of that class of human beings who maintain the plausible19, but false, doctrine20, that “seeing is believing!”
Considerable difficulty was experienced in getting the boat to overturn. The operation was slowly accomplished21; and all through there appeared to be an unwillingness22 on the part of the boat to upset!—a symptom which gave much satisfaction to her future crew, who stood ready on her gunwale to leap away from her. At last she was raised completely on one side, then she balanced for a moment, and fell forward, keel up, with a tremendous splash, while the men, not a moment too soon, sprang into the sea, and a wild cheer, mingled23 with laughter, arose from the spectators.
If the upsetting was slow and difficult, the self-righting was magically quick and easy. The boat went right round, and, almost before one could realise what had occurred, she was again on an even keel. Of course she was nearly full of water at the moment of rising; but, in a few seconds, the discharging holes in her bottom had cleared the water completely away. The whole operation of self-righting and self-emptying, from first to last, occupied only seventeen seconds! If there was laughter mingled with the shouts when she overturned and threw her crew into the sea, there was nothing but deep-toned enthusiasm in the prolonged cheer which hailed her on righting, for then it was fully24 realised, especially by seafaring men, what genuine and valuable qualities the boat possessed25, and the cheers became doubly enthusiastic when the crew, grasping the lifelines which were festooned round her sides, clambered on board again, and were reseated at the oars26 in less than two minutes thereafter.
This done, the boat was hauled up on her carriage, and conveyed to the house near the beach which had been prepared for her reception, there to wait, in constant readiness, until the storm should call her forth27 to display her peculiar qualities in actual service.
But another, and, if possible, a still more interesting ceremony remained to be performed. This was the presentation of the gold and silver medals of the Institution to several men of the town, who, in a recent storm, had rendered signal service in the saving of human life.
The zealous28 and indefatigable30 secretary of the Institution had himself come down from London to present these.
The presentation took place in the new town hall, a large building capable of containing upwards31 of a thousand people, which, on the occasion, was filled to overflowing32.
The mayor presided, of course, and opened proceedings, as many chairmen do, by taking the wind out of the sails of the principal speaker! That is to say, he touched uninterestingly on each topic that was likely to engage the attention of the meeting, and stated many facts and figures in a loose and careless way, which every one knew the secretary would, as a matter of course, afterwards state much better and more correctly than himself. But the mayor was a respected, well-meaning man, and, although his speech was listened to with manifest impatience33, his sitting down was hailed with rapturous applause.
At this point—the mayor having in his excitement forgotten to call upon the secretary to speak—a stout34 man on the platform took advantage of the oversight35 and started to his feet, calling from a disgusted auditor36 the expression, “Oh, there’s that bore Dowler!” It was indeed that same Joseph who had, on a memorable37 occasion long past, signed himself the “humble” friend of Mr Webster. Before a word could escape his lips, however, he was greeted with a storm of yells and obliged to sit down. But he did so under protest, and remained watchful38 for another favourable39 opportunity of breaking in. Dowler never knew when he was “out of order;” he never felt or believed himself to be “out of order!” In fact, he did not know what “out of order” meant when applied40 to himself. He was morally a rhinoceros41. He could not be shamed by disapprobation; could not be cowed by abuse; never was put out by noise—although he frequently was by the police; nor put down by reason—though he sometimes was by force; spoke42 everywhere, on all subjects, against the opinions (apparently) of everybody; and lived a life of perpetual public martyrdom and protest.
Silence having been obtained, the secretary of the Lifeboat Institution rose, and, after a few complimentary43 remarks on the enthusiasm in the good cause shown by the town, and especially by the lady who had presented the boat, he called Captain Harry Boyns to the platform, and presented him with the gold medal of the Institution in an able speech, wherein he related the special act of gallantry for which it was awarded—telling how that, during a terrible gale45, on a dark night in December, the gallant44 young captain, happening to walk homewards along the cliffs, observed a vessel on the rocks, not twenty yards from the land, with the green seas making clean breaches46 over her; and how that—knowing the tide was rising, and that before he could run to the town, three miles distant, for assistance, the vessel would certainly be dashed to pieces—he plunged47 into the surf, at the imminent48 risk of his life, swam to the vessel, and returned to the shore with a rope, by which means a hawser49 was fixed50 to the cliffs, and thirty-nine lives were rescued from the sea!
Well did every one present know the minute details of the heroic deed referred to, but they were glad to hear the praises of their townsman re-echoed by one who thoroughly51 understood the merits of the case, and whose comments thereon brought out more clearly to the minds of many the extent of the danger which the gallant captain had run, so that, when Harry stepped forward to receive the medal, he was greeted with the most enthusiastic cheers. Thereafter, the secretary presented silver medals to two fishermen of the Cove1, namely, Old Jacobs and Robert Gaston, both of whom had displayed unusual daring at the rescue of the young lady who was the donor52 of the lifeboat. He then touched on the value of lifeboats in general, and gave an interesting account of the origin of the Society which he represented; but as this subject deserves somewhat special treatment, we shall turn aside from the thread of our tale for a little, to regard the Work and the Boats of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, assuring our reader that the subject is well worthy53 the earnest consideration of all men.
The first lifeboat ever launched upon the stormy sea was planned and built by a London coach-builder, named Lionel Lukin, who took out a patent for it in November 1785, and launched it at Bamborough, where it was the means of saving many lives the first year. Although Lukin thus demonstrated the possibility of lives being saved by a boat which could live under circumstances that would have proved fatal to ordinary boats, he was doomed54 to disappointment. The Prince of Wales (George the Fourth) did indeed befriend him, but the Lords of Admiralty were deaf, and the public were indifferent. Lukin went to his grave unrewarded by man, but stamped with a nobility which can neither be gifted nor inherited, but only won—the nobility which attaches to the character of “national benefactor55.”
The public were aroused from their apathy56 in 1789 by the wreck57 of the Adventure of Newcastle, the crew of which perished in the presence of thousands, who could do nothing to save them. Models of lifeboats were solicited58, and premiums59 offered for the best. Among those who responded, William Wouldhave, a painter, and Henry Greathead, a boat-builder of South Shields, stood pre-eminent. The latter afterwards became a noted60 builder and improver of lifeboats, and was well and deservedly rewarded for his labours. In 1803 Greathead had built thirty-one boats—eighteen for England, five for Scotland, and eight for other countries. This was, so far, well, but it was a wretchedly inadequate61 provision for the necessities of the case. It was not until 1822 that a great champion of the lifeboat cause stood forth in the person of Sir William Hillary, Baronet.
Sir William, besides being a philanthropist, was a hero! He not only devised liberal things and carried them into execution, but he personally shared in the danger of rescuing life from the sea. He dwelt on the shores of the Isle62 of Man, where he established a Sailors’ Home at Douglas. He frequently embarked63 in the boats that went off to rescue lives from the wrecks64 that were constantly occurring on the island. Once he had his ribs65 broken in this service, and was frequently in imminent danger of being drowned. During his career he personally assisted in the saving of 305 human lives! He was the means of stirring up public men, and the nation generally, to a higher sense of their duty towards those who, professionally and otherwise, risk their lives upon the sea; and eventually, in conjunction with two Members of Parliament—Mr Thomas Wilson and Mr George Herbert—was the founder66 of “The Royal National Institution for the Preservation67 of Life from Shipwreck68.” This Institution—now named The Royal National Lifeboat Institution—was founded on the 24th of March 1824, and has gone on progressively, doing its noble work of creating and maintaining a lifeboat fleet, rescuing the shipwrecked, and rewarding the rescuers, from that day to this. When life does not require to be saved, and when opportunity offers, the Society allows its boats to save property, of which we shall have something more to say presently.
At the founding of the Institution in 1824, the Archbishop of Canterbury of the day filled the chair; the great Wilberforce, Lord John Russell, and other magnates, were present; the Dukes of Kent, Sussex, and other members of the Royal family, became vice-patrons; the Duke of Northumberland its vice-president, and George the Fourth its patron. In 1850 the much-lamented Prince Albert—whose life was a continual going about doing good—became its vice-patron, and Her Majesty70 the Queen became, and still continues, a warm supporter and an annual contributor.
Now, this is a splendid array of names and titles; but it ought ever to be borne in remembrance that the Institution is dependent for its continued existence on the public—on you and me, good reader—for it is supported almost entirely71 by voluntary contributions. That it will always find warm hearts to pray for it, and open hands to give, as long as its boats continue, year by year, to pluck men, women, and children from the jaws72 of death, and give them back to gladdened hearts on shore, is made very apparent from the records published quarterly in The Lifeboat Journal of the Society, a work full of interesting information. Therein we find that the most exalted73 contributor is Queen Victoria—the lowliest, a sailor’s orphan74 child!
Here are a few of the gifts to the Institution selected very much at random:— One gentleman leaves it a legacy75 of 10,000 pounds. Some time ago a sum of 5000 pounds was sent anonymously76 by “a friend.” There comes 100 pounds as a second donation from a sailor’s daughter, and 50 pounds from a British admiral. Five shillings are sent as “the savings77 of a child”; 1 shilling, 6 pence from another little child, in postage-stamps; 15 pounds from “three fellow-servants”; 10 pounds from “a shipwrecked pilot,” and 10 shillings 6 pence from “an old salt.” Indeed, we can speak from personal experience on this subject, because, among others, we received a letter, one day, in a cramped78 and peculiar hand, which we perused79 with deep interest, for it had been written by a blind youth, whose eyes, nevertheless, had been thoroughly opened to see the great importance of the lifeboat cause, for he had collected 100 pounds for the Institution! On another occasion, at the close of a lecture on the subject, an old woman, who appeared to be among the poorest of the classes who inhabit the old town of Edinburgh, came to us and said, “Hae, there’s tippence for the lifeboat!”
It cannot be doubted that these sums, and many, many others that are presented annually80, are the result of moral influences which elevate the soul, and which are indirectly81 caused by the lifeboat service. We therefore hold that the Institution ought to be regarded as a prolific82 cause of moral good to the nation. And, while we are on this subject, it may be observed that our lifeboat influence for good on other nations is very considerable. In proof of this we cite the following facts:— Finland sends 50 pounds to our Institution to testify its appreciation83 of the good done by us to its sailors and shipping84. The late President Lincoln of the United States, while involved in all the anxieties of the great civil war, found time to send 100 pounds to our Lifeboat Institution, in acknowledgement of the services rendered to American ships in distress85. Russia and Holland send naval86 men to inspect our lifeboat management. France, in generous emulation87 of ourselves, starts a Lifeboat Institution of its own; and last, but not least, it has been said, that “foreigners know when they are wrecked69 on the shores of Britain by the persevering88 and noble efforts that are made to save their lives!”
But there are some minds which do not attach much value to moral influence, and to which material benefit is an all-powerful argument. Well, then, to these we would address ourselves, but, in passing, would remark that moral influence goes far to secure for us material advantage. It is just because so many hundreds of human living souls are annually preserved to us that men turn with glowing gratitude89 to the rescuers and to the Institution which organises and utilises the latent philanthropy and pluck of our coast heroes. On an average, 800 lives are saved every year; while, despite our utmost efforts, 600 are lost. Those who know anything about our navy, and our want of British seamen90 to man our ships, cannot fail to see that the saving of so many valuable lives is a positive material benefit to the nation. But to descend91 to the lowest point, we maintain that the value of the lifeboats to the nation, in the mere92 matter of saving property, is almost incredible. In regard to these things, it is possible to speak definitely.
For instance, during stormy weather, it frequently happens that vessels93 show signals of distress, either because they are so badly strained as to be in a sinking condition, or so damaged that they are unmanageable, or the crews have become so exhausted94 as to be no longer capable of working for their own preservation. In such cases, the lifeboat puts off with the intention, in the first instance, of saving life. It reaches the vessel in distress; the boat’s crew spring on board and find, perhaps, that there is some hope of saving the ship. Knowing the locality well, they steer12 her clear of rocks and shoals. Being fresh and vigorous, they work the pumps with a will, manage to keep her afloat, and finally steer her into port, thus saving ship and cargo95 as well as crew.
Now, let it be observed that what we have here supposed is not imaginary—it is not even of rare occurrence. It happens every year. Last year thirty-eight ships were thus saved by lifeboats. The year before, twenty-eight were saved. The year before that, seventeen. Before that, twenty-one. As surely and regularly as the year comes round, so surely and regularly are ships and property thus saved to the nation.
It cannot be too well understood that a wrecked ship is not only an individual, but a national loss. Insurance protects the individual, but insurance cannot, in the nature of things, protect the nation. If you drop a thousand sovereigns in the street, that is a loss to you, but not to the nation. Some lucky individual will find the money and circulate it. But if you drop it in the sea, it is lost, not only to you, but to the nation to which you belong—ay, lost to the world itself for ever! If a lifeboat, therefore, saves a ship worth 1000 pounds from destruction, it literally96 presents that sum as a free gift to the nation. We say a free gift, because the lifeboats are supported for the purpose of saving life, not property.
A few remarks on the value of loaded ships will throw additional light on this subject, and make more apparent the value of the Lifeboat Institution. Take, first, the case of a ship which was actually saved by a lifeboat. She was a large Spanish ship, which grounded on a bank off the south coast of Ireland. The captain and crew forsook97 her, and escaped to shore in their boats, but one man was inadvertently left on board. Soon after, the wind moderated and shifted, the ship slipped off the bank into deep water, and drifted to the northward98. The crew of the Cahore lifeboat were on the look-out, observed the vessel passing, launched their boat, and after a long pull against wind and sea, boarded the vessel, and rescued the Spanish sailor. But they did more. Finding seven feet of water in the hold, they rigged the pumps, trimmed the sails, carried the ship into port, and handed her over to an agent for the owners. This vessel and cargo were valued at 20,000 pounds, and we think we are justified99 in saying that England, through the instrumentality of her Lifeboat Institution, presented that handsome sum to Spain upon that occasion!
But many ships are much more costly100 than that was. Some time ago a ship named the Golden Age was lost upon our shores; it was valued at 200,000 pounds. If that single ship had been one of the thirty-eight saved last year (and it might have been), the sum thus saved to the nation would have been more than sufficient to buy up all the lifeboats in the kingdom twice over! But that ship was not amongst the saved. It was lost. So was the Ontario of Liverpool, which was wrecked in October 1864, and valued at 100,000 pounds. Also the Assaye, wrecked on the Irish coast, and valued at 200,000 pounds. Here are 500,000 pounds lost for ever by the wreck of these three ships alone in one year! Do you know, reader, what such sums represent? Are you aware that the value of the Ontario alone is equal to the income for one year of the London Missionary101 Society, wherewith it supports its institutions at home and abroad, and spreads the blessed knowledge of gospel truth over a vast portion of the globe?
But we have only spoken of three ships—no doubt three of the largest size—yet only three of the lost. Couple the above figures with the fact that the number of ships lost, or seriously damaged, every year, on the shores of the United Kingdom is above two thousand, and you will have some idea of one of the reasons why taxation102 is so heavy; and if you couple them with the other fact, that, from twenty to thirty ships, great and small, are saved by lifeboats every year, you will perceive that, whatever amount may be given to the Lifeboat Institution, it gives back to the nation far more than it receives in material wealth, not to mention human lives at all.
Its receipts in 1868 from all sources were 31,668 pounds, and its expenditure103 31,585 pounds. The lives saved by its own boats last year were 603, in addition to which other 259 were saved by shore boats, for which the Institution rewarded the crews with thirteen medals, and money to the extent of above 6573 pounds, for all services.
The Lifeboat Institution has a little sister, whom it would be unjust, as well as ungracious, not to introduce in passing, namely, the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society. They do their blessed work hand in hand. Their relative position may be simply stated thus:— The Lifeboat Institution saves life. Having dragged the shipwrecked sailor from the sea, its duty is done. It hands him over to the agent of the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society, who takes him by the hand, sees him housed, warmed, clad and fed, and sends him home rejoicing, free of expense, and with a little cash in his pocket. Formerly104, shipwrecked sailors had to beg their way to their homes. At first they were sympathised with and well treated. Thereupon uprose a host of counterfeits105. The land was overrun by shipwrecked-mariner-beggars, and as people of the interior knew not which was which, poor shipwrecked Jack106 often suffered because of these vile107 impostors. But now there is not a port in the kingdom without its agent of the Society. Jack has, therefore, no need to beg his way. “The world” knows this; the deceiver knows it too, therefore his occupation is gone! Apart from its benignant work, the mere fact that the “little sister” has swept such vagrants108 off the land entitles her to a strong claim on our gratitude. She, also, is supported by voluntary contributions.
Turning now to another branch of our subject, let us regard for a little the boats of the Lifeboat Institution.
“What is a lifeboat? Wherein does it differ from other boats?” are questions sometimes put. Let us attempt a brief reply.
A lifeboat—that is to say, the present lifeboat—differs from all other boats in four particulars:— 1. It is almost indestructible. 2. It is insubmergible. 3. It is self-righting. 4. It is self-emptying. In other words, it can hardly be destroyed; it cannot be sunk; it rights itself if upset; it empties itself if filled. Let us illustrate109 these points in succession. Here is evidence on the first point.
On a terrible night in 1857 a Portuguese110 brig struck on the Goodwin Sands. The noble, and now famous, Ramsgate lifeboat was at once towed out when the signal-rocket from the lightship was seen, indicating “a wreck on the sands.” A terrific battle with the winds and waves ensued. At length the boat was cast off to windward of the sands, and bore down on the brig through the shoal water, which tossed her like a cork on its raging surface. They reached the brig and lay by her for some time in the hope of getting her off, but failed. The storm increased, the vessel began to break up, so her crew were taken into the boat, which—having previously111 cast anchor to windward of the wreck, and eased off the cable until it got under her lee—now tried to pull back to its anchor. Every effort was fruitless, owing to the shifting nature of the sands and the fury of the storm. At last nothing was left for it but to hoist112 the sail, cut the cable, and make a desperate effort to beat off the sands. In this also they failed; were caught on the crest113 of a breaking roller, and borne away to leeward114. Water and wind in wildest commotion115 were comparatively small matters to the lifeboat, but want of water was a serious matter. The tide happened to be out. The sands were only partially116 covered, and over them the breakers swept in a chaotic117 seething118 turmoil119 that is inconceivable by those who have not witnessed it. Every one has seen the ripples120 on the seashore when the tide is out. On the Goodwins these ripples are great banks, to be measured by yards instead of inches. From one to another of these sand-banks this boat was cast. Each breaker caught her up, hurled121 her onward122 a few yards, and let her down with a crash that well-nigh tore every man out of her, leaving her there a few moments, to be caught up again and made sport with by the next billow. The Portuguese sailors, eighteen in number, clung to the thwarts123 in silent despair, but the crew of the boat did not lose heart. They knew her splendid qualities, and hoped that, if they should only escape being dashed against the portions of wreck which strewed124 the sands, all might yet be well. Thus, literally fathom125 by fathom, with a succession of shocks that would have knocked any ordinary boat to pieces, was this magnificent lifeboat driven, during two hours in the dead of night, over two miles of the Goodwin Sands! At last she drove into deep water on the other side; the sails were set, and soon after, through God’s mercy, the rescued men were landed safely in Ramsgate Harbour. So, we repeat, the lifeboat is almost indestructible.
That she is insubmergible has been proved by what has already been written, and our space forbids giving further illustration, but a word about the cause of this quality is necessary. Her floating power is due to air-chambers fitted round the sides under the seats and in the bow and stern; also to empty space and light wood or cork ballast under her floor. If thrust forcibly deep under water with as many persons in her as could be stowed away, she would, on being released, rise again to the surface like a cork.
The self-righting principle is one of the most important qualities of the lifeboat. However good it may be in other respects, a boat without this quality is a lifeboat only so long as it maintains its proper position on the water. If upset it is no better than any other boat. It is true that, great stability being one of the lifeboat’s qualities, such boats are not easily overturned. Nevertheless they sometimes are so, and the results have been on several occasions disastrous126. Witness the case of the Liverpool boat, which in January 1865 upset, and the crew of seven men were drowned. Also the Point of Ayr lifeboat, which upset when under sail at a distance from the land, and her crew, thirteen in number, were drowned. Two or three of the poor fellows were seen clinging to the keel for twenty minutes, but no assistance could be rendered. Now, both of these were considered good lifeboats, but they were not self-righting. Numerous cases might be cited to prove the inferiority of the non-self-righting boats, but one more will suffice. In February 1858 the Southwold boat—a large sailing boat, esteemed127 one of the finest in the kingdom, but not self-righting—went out for exercise, and was running before a heavy surf with all sail set, when she suddenly ran on the top of a sea, broached128-to and upset. The crew in this case being near shore, and having on cork lifebelts, were rescued, but three gentlemen who had gone off in her without lifebelts were drowned. This case, and the last, occurred in broad daylight.
In contrast to these we give an instance of the action of the self-righting lifeboat when overturned. It occurred on a dark stormy night in October 1858. On that night a wreck took place off the coast near Dungeness, three miles from shore. The small lifeboat belonging to that place put off to the rescue. Eight stout men of the coastguard composed her crew. She belonged to the National Lifeboat Institution—all the boats of which are now built on the self-righting principle. The wreck was reached soon after midnight, and found to have been deserted129 by her crew; the boat therefore returned to the shore. While crossing a deep channel between two shoals she was caught up and struck by three heavy seas in succession. The coxswain lost command of the rudder, and she was carried away before a sea, broached to and upset, throwing the men out of her. Immediately she righted herself, cleared herself of water, and the anchor having fallen out she was brought up by it. The crew, meanwhile, having on lifebelts, regained130 the boat, got into her by means of the lifelines hung round her sides, cut the cable, and returned to the shore in safety!
The means by which the self-righting is accomplished are—two large air-cases, one in the bow, the other in the stern, and a heavy iron keel. These air-cases are rounded on the top and raised so high that a boat, bottom up, resting on them, would be raised almost quite out of the water. Manifestly, to rest on these pivots131 is an impossibility; the overturned boat must fall on its side, in which position the heavy iron keel comes into play and drags the bottom down, thus placing the boat violently and quickly in her proper position. The simple plan here described was invented by the Reverend James Bremner, of Orkney, and exhibited at Leith, near Edinburgh, in the year 1800. Mr Bremner’s aircases were empty casks in the bow and stern, and his ballast was three hundredweight of iron attached to the keel.
This plan, however, was not made practically useful until upwards of fifty years later, when twenty out of twenty-four men were lost by the upsetting of the non-self-righting lifeboat of South Shields. After the occurrence of that melancholy132 event, the late Duke of Northumberland—who for many years was one of the warmest supporters and patrons of the Lifeboat Institution—offered a prize of 100 pounds for the best self-righting lifeboat. It was gained by Mr Beeching, whose boat was afterwards considerably133 altered and improved by Mr Peak.
The self-emptying principle is of almost equal importance with the self-righting, for, in every case of putting off to a wreck, a lifeboat is necessarily filled again and again with water—sometimes overwhelmed by tons of it; and a boat full of water, however safe it may be, is necessarily useless. Six large holes in the bottom of the boat effect the discharge of water. There is an air-tight floor to the lifeboat, which is so placed that when the boat is fully manned and loaded with passengers it is a very little above the level of the sea. On this fact the acting134 of the principle depends. Between this floor and the bottom of the boat, a space of upwards of a foot in depth, there is some light ballast of cork or wood, and some parts of the space are left empty. The six holes above mentioned are tubes of six inches diameter, which extend from the floor through the bottom of the boat. Now, it is one of nature’s laws that water must find its level. For instance, take any boat and bore large holes in its bottom, and suppose it to be held up in its ordinary floating position, so that it cannot sink, then fill it suddenly quite full of water, it will be found that the water inside will run out until it is on a level with the water outside. Water poured into a lifeboat will of course act in the same way, but when that which has been poured into it reaches the level of the water outside, it has also reached the floor: in other words, there is no more water left to run out.
Such are the principal qualities of the splendid lifeboat now used on our coasts, and of which it may be said that it has almost reached the state of absolute perfection.
The Lifeboat Institution, which has been the means in God’s hands of saving so many thousands of human lives, is now in a high state of efficiency and of well-deserved prosperity; both of which conditions are due very largely to the untiring exertions135 and zeal29 of its present secretary, Richard Lewis, Esquire, of the Inner Temple. Success is not dependent on merit alone. Good though the lifeboat cause unquestionably is, we doubt whether the Institution would have attained136 its present high position so soon, had it not been guided thereto by the judicious137 management of its committee—the members of which bestow138 laborious139 and gratuitous140 service on its great and national work—aided by the able and learned secretary and an experienced inspector141 of lifeboats (Captain J.R. Ward4, R.N.) both whose judgement and discretion142 have often been the themes of deserved praise by the public.
That the claims of the Institution are very strong must be admitted by all who reflect that during upwards of forty years it has been engaged in the grand work of saving human lives. Up to the present date, it has plucked 18,225 human beings from the waves, besides an incalculable amount of valuable property. It is a truly national blessing143, and as such deserves the support of every man and woman in the kingdom. (See footnote.)
But, to return from this prolonged yet by no means unnecessary digression,—let us remind the reader that we left him at the meeting in the town-hall of Covelly, of which, however, we will only say further, that it was very enthusiastic and most successful. That the mayor, having been stirred in spirit by the secretary’s speech, redeemed144 himself by giving vent2 to a truly eloquent145 oration146, and laying on the table a handsome contribution towards the funds of the Society. That many of the people present gladly followed his lead, and that the only interruption to the general harmony was the repeated attempts made by Mr Joseph Dowler—always out of order—to inflict147 himself upon the meeting; an infliction148 which the meeting persistently149 declined to permit!
Thereafter the new lifeboat was conveyed to its house on the shore, where, however, it had not rested many weeks before it was called into vigorous action.
For the sake of those who sympathise with us, and desire to give substantial evidence of their goodwill150, we would suggest that contributions may be sent to the secretary, Richard Lewis, Esquire, 14 John Street, Adelphi, London.
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4 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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5 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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6 propitious | |
adj.吉利的;顺利的 | |
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7 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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8 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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9 herald | |
vt.预示...的来临,预告,宣布,欢迎 | |
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10 lashed | |
adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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11 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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12 steer | |
vt.驾驶,为…操舵;引导;vi.驾驶 | |
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13 steering | |
n.操舵装置 | |
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14 oar | |
n.桨,橹,划手;v.划行 | |
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15 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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16 steered | |
v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 );操纵;控制;引导 | |
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17 pier | |
n.码头;桥墩,桥柱;[建]窗间壁,支柱 | |
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18 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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19 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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20 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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21 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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22 unwillingness | |
n. 不愿意,不情愿 | |
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23 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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24 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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25 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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26 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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27 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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28 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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29 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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30 indefatigable | |
adj.不知疲倦的,不屈不挠的 | |
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31 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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32 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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33 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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35 oversight | |
n.勘漏,失察,疏忽 | |
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36 auditor | |
n.审计员,旁听着 | |
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37 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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38 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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39 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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40 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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41 rhinoceros | |
n.犀牛 | |
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42 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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43 complimentary | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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44 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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45 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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46 breaches | |
破坏( breach的名词复数 ); 破裂; 缺口; 违背 | |
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47 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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48 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
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49 hawser | |
n.大缆;大索 | |
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50 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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51 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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52 donor | |
n.捐献者;赠送人;(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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53 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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54 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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55 benefactor | |
n. 恩人,行善的人,捐助人 | |
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56 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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57 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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58 solicited | |
v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 );(指娼妇)拉客;索求;征求 | |
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59 premiums | |
n.费用( premium的名词复数 );保险费;额外费用;(商品定价、贷款利息等以外的)加价 | |
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60 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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61 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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62 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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63 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
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64 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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65 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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66 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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67 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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68 shipwreck | |
n.船舶失事,海难 | |
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69 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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70 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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71 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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72 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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73 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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74 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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75 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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76 anonymously | |
ad.用匿名的方式 | |
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77 savings | |
n.存款,储蓄 | |
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78 cramped | |
a.狭窄的 | |
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79 perused | |
v.读(某篇文字)( peruse的过去式和过去分词 );(尤指)细阅;审阅;匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览(某篇文字) | |
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80 annually | |
adv.一年一次,每年 | |
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81 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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82 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
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83 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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84 shipping | |
n.船运(发货,运输,乘船) | |
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85 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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86 naval | |
adj.海军的,军舰的,船的 | |
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87 emulation | |
n.竞争;仿效 | |
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88 persevering | |
a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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89 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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90 seamen | |
n.海员 | |
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91 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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92 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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93 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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94 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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95 cargo | |
n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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96 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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97 forsook | |
forsake的过去式 | |
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98 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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99 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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100 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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101 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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102 taxation | |
n.征税,税收,税金 | |
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103 expenditure | |
n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出;使用,消耗 | |
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104 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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105 counterfeits | |
v.仿制,造假( counterfeit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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106 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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107 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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108 vagrants | |
流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 ); 无业游民; 乞丐; 无赖 | |
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109 illustrate | |
v.举例说明,阐明;图解,加插图 | |
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110 Portuguese | |
n.葡萄牙人;葡萄牙语 | |
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111 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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112 hoist | |
n.升高,起重机,推动;v.升起,升高,举起 | |
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113 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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114 leeward | |
adj.背风的;下风的 | |
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115 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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116 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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117 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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118 seething | |
沸腾的,火热的 | |
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119 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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120 ripples | |
逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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121 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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122 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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123 thwarts | |
阻挠( thwart的第三人称单数 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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124 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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125 fathom | |
v.领悟,彻底了解 | |
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126 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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127 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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128 broached | |
v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 );打开并开始用;用凿子扩大(或修光);(在桶上)钻孔取液体 | |
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129 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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130 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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131 pivots | |
n.枢( pivot的名词复数 );最重要的人(或事物);中心;核心v.(似)在枢轴上转动( pivot的第三人称单数 );把…放在枢轴上;以…为核心,围绕(主旨)展开 | |
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132 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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133 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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134 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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135 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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136 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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137 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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138 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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139 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
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140 gratuitous | |
adj.无偿的,免费的;无缘无故的,不必要的 | |
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141 inspector | |
n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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142 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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143 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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144 redeemed | |
adj. 可赎回的,可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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145 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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146 oration | |
n.演说,致辞,叙述法 | |
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147 inflict | |
vt.(on)把…强加给,使遭受,使承担 | |
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148 infliction | |
n.(强加于人身的)痛苦,刑罚 | |
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149 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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150 goodwill | |
n.善意,亲善,信誉,声誉 | |
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