Everything depends upon taste, as the monkey remarked when it took to nibbling2 the end of its own tail! If you like a thing, you take one view of it; if you don’t like it, you take another view. Either view, if detailed3, would be totally irreconcilable4 with the other.
The lower part of the river Shire, into which our travellers had now entered, is a vast swamp. There are at least two opinions in regard to that region. To do justice to those with whom we don’t sympathise, we give our opponent’s view first. Our opponent, observe, is an honest and competent man; he speaks truly; he only looks at it in another light from Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer.
He says of the river Shire, “It drains a low and exceedingly fertile valley of from fifteen to twenty miles in breadth. Ranges of wooded hills bound this valley on both sides. After the first twenty miles you come to Mount Morambala, which rises with steep sides to 4000 feet in height. It is wooded to the top, and very beautiful. A small village peeps out about half-way up the mountain. It has a pure, bracing5 atmosphere, and is perched above mosquito range. The people on the summit have a very different climate and vegetation from those on the plains, and they live amidst luxuriant vegetation. There are many species of ferns, some so large as to deserve the name of trees. There are also lemon and orange trees growing wild, and birds and animals of all kinds.” Thus far we agree with our opponent but listen to him as he goes on:—
“The view from Morambala is extensive, but cheerless past description. Swamp, swamp-reeking, festering, rotting, malaria-pregnant swamp, where poisonous vapours for several months in the year are ever bulging6 up and out into the air,—lies before you as far as the eye can reach, and farther. If you enter the river at the worst seasons of the year, the chances are you will take the worst type of fever. If, on the other hand, you enter it during the best season, when the swamps are fairly dried up, you have everything in your favour.”
Now, our opponent gives a true statement of facts undoubtedly7, but his view of them is not cheering.
Contrast them with the view of Disco Lillihammer. That sagacious seaman8 had entered the Shire neither in the “best” nor the “worst” of the season. He had chanced upon it somewhere between the two.
“Git up your steam an’ go ’longside,” he said to Jumbo one afternoon, as the two canoes were proceeding9 quietly among magnificent giant-reeds, sedges, and bulrushes, which towered high above them—in some places overhung them.
“I say, Mister Harold, ain’t it splendid?”
“Magnificent!” replied Harold with a look of quiet enthusiasm.
“I does enjoy a swamp,” continued the seaman, allowing a thin cloud to trickle10 from his lips.
“So do I, Disco.”
“There’s such a many outs and ins an’ roundabouts in it. And such powerful reflections o’ them reeds in the quiet water. W’y, sir, I do declare w’en I looks through ’em in a dreamy sort of way for a long time I get to fancy they’re palm-trees, an’ that we’re sailin’ through a forest without no end to it; an’ when I looks over the side an’ sees every reed standin’ on its other self, so to speak, an’ follers the under one down till my eyes git lost in the blue sky an’ clouds below us, I do sometimes feel as if we’d got into the middle of fairy-land,—was fairly afloat on the air, an’ off on a voyage through the univarse! But it’s them reflections as I like most. Every leaf, an’ stalk, an’ flag is just as good an’ real in the water as out of it. An’ just look at that there frog, sir, that one on the big leaf which has swelled11 hisself up as if he wanted to bust12, with his head looking up hopefully to the—ah! he’s down with a plop like lead, but he wos sittin’ on his own image which wos as clear as his own self. Then there’s so much variety, sir—that’s where it is. You never know wot you’re comin’ to in them swamps. It may be a openin’ like a pretty lake, with islands of reeds everywhere; or it may be a narrow bit like a canal, or a river; or a bit so close that you go scrapin’ the gun’les on both sides. An’ the life, too, is most amazin’. Never saw nothin’ like it nowhere. All kinds, big an’ little, plain an’ pritty, queer an’ ’orrible, swarms14 here to sitch an extent that I’ve got it into my head that this Shire valley must be the great original nursery of animated15 nature.”
“It looks like it, Disco.”
The last idea appeared to furnish food for reflection, as the two friends here relapsed into silence.
Although Disco’s description was quaint16, it could scarcely be styled exaggerated, for the swamp was absolutely alive with animal life. The principal occupant of these marshes17 is the elephant, and hundreds of these monster animals may be seen in one herd18, feeding like cattle in a meadow. Owing to the almost impenetrable nature of the reedy jungle, however, it is impossible to follow them, and anxious though Disco was to kill one, he failed to obtain a single shot. Buffaloes19 and other large game were also numerous in this region, and in the water crocodiles and hippopotami sported about everywhere, while aquatic20 birds of every shape and size rendered the air vocal21 with their cries. Sometimes these feathered denizens22 of the swamp arose, when startled, in a dense24 cloud so vast that the mighty25 rush of their wings was almost thunderous in character.
The crocodiles were not only numerous but dangerous because of their audacity26. They used to watch at the places where native women were in the habit of going down to the river for water, and not unfrequently succeeded in seizing a victim. This, however, only happened at those periods when the Shire was in flood, when fish were driven from their wonted haunts, and the crocodiles were reduced to a state of starvation and consequent ferocity.
One evening, while our travellers were proceeding slowly up stream, they observed the corpse28 of a negro boy floating past the canoe; just then a monstrous29 crocodile rushed at it with the speed of a greyhound, caught it and shook it as a terrier does a rat. Others dashed at the prey30, each with his powerful tail causing the water to churn and froth as he tore off a piece. In a few seconds all was gone. (Livingstone’s Zambesi and its Tributaries31, page 452.) That same evening Zombo had a narrow escape. After dusk he ran down to the river to drink. He chanced to go to a spot where a crocodile was watching. It lay settled down in the mud with its head on a level with the water, so that in the feeble light it could not be seen. While Zombo was busy laving the water into his mouth it suddenly rushed at him and caught him by the hand. The limb of a bush was fortunately within reach, and he laid hold of it. There was a brief struggle. The crocodile tugged32 hard, but the man tugged harder; at the same time he uttered a yell which brought Jumbo to his side with an oar33, a blow from which drove the hideous34 reptile35 away. Poor Zombo was too glad to have escaped with his life to care much about the torn hand, which rendered him hors de combat for some time after that.
Although Disco failed to get a shot at an elephant, his hopeful spirit was gratified by the catching36 of a baby elephant alive. It happened thus:—
One morning, not very long after Zombo’s tussle37 with the crocodile, Disco’s canoe, which chanced to be in advance, suddenly ran almost into the midst of a herd of elephants which were busy feeding on palm-nuts, of which they are very fond. Instantly the whole troop scattered38 and fled. Disco, taken completely by surprise, omitted his wonted “Hallo!” as he made an awkward plunge39 at his rifle, but before he could bring it to bear, the animals were over the bank of the river and lost in the dense jungle. But a fine little elephant, at that period of life which, in human beings, might be styled the toddling40 age, was observed to stumble while attempting to follow its mother up the bank. It fell and rolled backwards41.
“Give way for your lives!” roared Disco.
The boat shot its bow on the bank, and the seaman flew rather than leaped upon the baby elephant!
The instant it was laid hold of it began to scream with incessant42 and piercing energy after the fashion of a pig.
“Queek! come in canoe! Modder come back for ’im,” cried Jumbo in some anxiety.
Disco at once appreciated the danger of the enraged43 mother returning to the rescue, but, resolved not to resign his advantage, he seized the vicious little creature by the proboscis45 and dragged it by main force to the canoe, into which he tumbled, hauled the proboscis inboard, as though it had been the bite of a cable, and held on.
“Shove off! shove off! and give way, lads! Look alive!”
The order was promptly46 obeyed, and in a few minutes the baby was dragged into the boat and secured.
This prize, however, was found to be more of a nuisance than an amusement and it was soon decided47 that it must be disposed of. Accordingly, that very night, much to the regret of the men who wanted to make a meal of it, Disco led his baby squealing48 into the jungle and set it free with a hearty49 slap on the flank, and an earnest recommendation to make all sail after its venerable mother, which it did forthwith, cocking its ears and tail, and shrieking51 as it went.
Two days after this event they made a brief halt at a poor village where they were hospitably52 received by the chief, who was much gratified by the liberal quantity of calico with which the travellers paid for their entertainment. Here they met with a Portuguese53 half-caste who was reputed one of the greatest monsters of cruelty in that part of the country. He was, however, not much more villainous in aspect than many other half-castes whom they saw. He was on his way to the coast in a canoe manned by slaves. If Harold and Disco had known that this was his last journey to the coast they would have regarded him with greater interest. As it was, having learned his history from the chief through their interpreter, they turned from him with loathing54.
As this half-caste’s career illustrates55 the depths to which humanity may fall in the hot-bed of slavery, as well as, to some extent, the state of things existing under Portuguese rule on the east coast of Africa, we give the particulars briefly56.
Instead of the whip, this man used the gun, which he facetiously57 styled his “minister of justice,” and, in mere58 wantonness, he was known to have committed murder again and again, yet no steps were taken by the authorities to restrain, much less to punish him. Men heard of his murders, but they shrugged59 their shoulders and did nothing. It was only a wild beast of a negro that was killed, they said, and what was that! They seemed to think less of it than if he had shot a hippopotamus61. One of his murders was painfully notorious, even to its minutest particulars. Over the female slaves employed in a house and adjacent lands there is usually placed a head-woman, a slave also, chosen for such an office for her blind fidelity62 to her master. This man had one such woman, one who had ever been faithful to him and his interests, who had never provoked him by disobedience or ill-conduct, and against whom, therefore, he could have no cause of complaint. One day when half drunk he was lying on a couch in his house; his forewoman entered and made herself busy with some domestic work. As her master lay watching her, his savage64 disposition65 found vent1 in a characteristic joke: “Woman,” said he, “I think I will shoot you.” The woman turned round and said, “Master, I am your slave; you can do what you will with me. You can kill me if you like; I can do nothing. But don’t kill me, master, for if you do, who is there to look after your other women? they will all run away from you.”
She did not mean to irritate her master, but instantly the man’s brutal66 egotism was aroused. The savage jest became a fearful reality, and he shouted with rage:—
“Say you that! say you that! fetch me my gun. I will see if my women will run away after I have killed you.”
Trained to implicit67 obedience63, the poor woman did as she was bid. She brought the gun and handed him powder and ball. At his command she knelt down before him, and the wretch68 fired at her breast. In his drunken rage he missed his mark—the ball went through her shoulder. She besought69 him to spare her. Deaf to her entreaties70, he ordered her to fetch more powder and ball. Though wounded and in agony, she obeyed him. Again the gun was loaded, again levelled and fired, and the woman fell dead at his feet. (The above narrative71 is quoted almost verbatim from The Story of the Universities’ Mission to Central Africa, pages 78 and 79, the author of which vouches72 for its accuracy.)
The facts of this case were known far and wide. The Portuguese Governor was acquainted with them, as well as the ministers of justice, but no one put forth50 a hand to punish the monster, or to protect his slaves.
But vengeance73 overtook him at last. On his way down the Zambesi he shot one of his men. The others, roused to irresistible74 fury, sprang upon him and strangled him.
Then, indeed, the Governor and Magistrates75 were roused to administer “justice!” They had allowed this fiend to murder slaves at his will, but no sooner had the slaves turned on and killed their master than ceaseless energy and resolution were displayed in punishing those who slew76 him. Soldiers were sent out in all directions; some of the canoe-men were shot down like wild beasts, the rest were recaptured and publicly whipped to death!
Reader, this is “domestic slavery.” This is what Portugal and Zanzibar claim the right to practise. This is what Great Britain has for many years declined to interfere77 with. This is the curse with which Africa is blighted78 at the present day in some of her fairest lands, and this is what Portugal has decreed shall not terminate in what she calls her African dominions79 for some years to come. In other words, it has been coolly decreed by that weakest of all the European nations, that slavery, murder, injustice80, and every other conceivable and unmentionable vice81 and villainy shall still, for some considerable time, continue to be practised on the men, women, and children of Africa!
Higher up the Shire river, the travellers saw symptoms of recent distress82 among the people, which caused them much concern. Chimbolo, in particular, was rendered very anxious by the account given of the famine which prevailed still farther up the river, and the numerous deaths that had taken place in consequence.
The cause of the distress was a common one, and easily explained. Slave-dealers had induced the Ajawa, a warlike tribe, to declare war against the people of the Manganja highlands. The Ajawa had done this before, and were but too ready to do it again. They invaded the land, captured many of the young people, and slew the aged44. Those who escaped to the jungle found on their return that their crops were destroyed. Little seed remained in their possession, and before that was planted and grown, famine began to reduce the ranks, already thinned by war.
Indications of this sad state of things became more numerous as the travellers advanced. Few natives appeared to greet them on the banks of the river as they went along, and these few resembled living skeletons. In many places they found dead bodies lying on the ground in various stages of decomposition83, and everywhere they beheld84 an aspect of settled unutterable despair on the faces of the scattered remnant of the bereaved85 and starving people.
It was impossible, in the circumstances, for Harold Seadrift to give these wretched people more than very slight relief. He gave them as much of his stock of provisions as he could spare, and was glad when the necessity of continuing the journey on foot relieved him from such mournful scenes by taking him away from the river’s bank.
Hiring a party of the strongest men that he could find among them, he at length left his canoes, made up his goods, food, and camp-equipage into bundles of a shape and size suitable to being carried on the heads of men, and started on foot for the Manganja highlands.
“Seems to me, sir,” observed Disco, as they plodded86 along together on the first morning of the land journey—“seems to me, sir, that Chimbolo don’t stand much chance of findin’ his wife alive.”
“Poor fellow,” replied Harold, glancing back at the object of their remarks, “I fear not.”
Chimbolo had by that time recovered much of his natural vigour87, and although not yet able to carry a man’s load, was nevertheless quite capable of following the party. He walked in silence, with his eyes on the ground, a few paces behind Antonio, who was a step or two in rear of his leader, and who, in virtue88 of his position as “bo’s’n” to the party, was privileged to walk hampered89 by no greater burden than his gun.
“We must keep up his sperrits, tho’, poor chap,” said Disco, in the hoarse90 whisper with which he was wont27 to convey secret remarks, and which was much more fitted to attract attention than his ordinary voice. “It ’ud never do to let his sperrits down; ’cause w’y? he’s weak, an’ if he know’d that his wife was dead, or took off as a slave, he’d never be able to go along with us, and we couldn’t leave him to starve here, you know.”
“Certainly not, Disco,” returned Harold. “Besides, his wife may be alive, for all we know to the contrary.—How far did he say the village was from where we landed, Antonio?”
“’Bout two, t’ree days,” answered the bo’s’n.
That night the party encamped beside the ruins of a small hamlet where charred91 sticks and fragments of an African household’s goods and chattels92 lay scattered on the ground.
Chimbolo sat down here on the ground, and, resting his chin on his knees, gazed in silence at the ruin around him.
“Come, cheer up, old fellow,” cried Disco, with rather an awkward effort at heartiness93, as he slapped the negro gently on the shoulder; “tell him, Antonio, not to let his heart go down. Didn’t he say that what-dee-call-the-place—his village—was a strong place, and could be easily held by a few brave men?”
“True,” replied Chimbolo, through the interpreter, “but the Manganja men are not very brave.”
“Well, well, never mind,” rejoined the sympathetic tar23, repeating his pat on the back, “there’s no sayin’. P’raps they got courage w’en it came to the scratch. P’raps it never came to the scratch at all up there. Mayhap you’ll find ’em all right after all. Come, never say die s’long as there’s a shot in the locker94. That’s a good motto for ’ee, Chimbolo, and ought to keep up your heart even tho’ ye are a nigger, ’cause it wos inwented by the great Nelson, and shouted by him, or his bo’s’n, just before he got knocked over at the glorious battle of Trafalgar. Tell him that, Antonio.”
Whether Antonio told him all that, is extremely doubtful, although he complied at once with the order, for Antonio never by any chance declined at least to attempt the duties of his station, but the only effect of his speech was that Chimbolo shook his head and continued to stare at the ruins.
Next morning they started early, and towards evening drew near to Zomba.
The country through which, during the previous two days, they had travelled, was very beautiful, and as wild as even Disco could desire—and, by the way, it was no small degree of wildness that could slake95 the thirst for the marvellous which had been awakened96 in the breast of our tar, by his recent experiences in Africa. It was, he said—and said truly—a real out-and-out wilderness97. There were villages everywhere, no doubt but these were so thickly concealed98 by trees and jungle that they were not easily seen, and most of them were at that time almost depopulated. The grass was higher than the heads of the travellers, and the vegetation everywhere was rankly luxuriant. Here and there open glades99 allowed the eye to penetrate101 into otherwise impenetrable bush. Elsewhere, large trees abounded102 in the midst of overwhelmingly affectionate parasites103, whose gnarled lower limbs and twining tendrils and pendant foliage104 gave a softness to the landscape, which contrasted well with the wild passes and rugged60 rocks of the middle distance, and the towering mountains which rose, range beyond range, in the far distance.
But as the party approached the neighbourhood of Zomba mountains, few of them were disposed to give much heed105 to the beauties of nature. All being interested in Chimbolo, they became more or less anxious as to news that awaited him.
On turning a spur of one of the mountains which had hitherto barred their vision, they found themselves suddenly face to face with a small band of Manganja men, whose woe-begone countenances106 told too eloquently107 that the hand of the destroyer had been heavy upon them.
Of course they were questioned by Chimbolo, and the replies they gave him were such as to confirm the fears he had previously108 entertained.
The Ajawa, they said, had, just the day before, burnt their villages, stolen or destroyed their property, killed many of their kinsmen109, and carried off their wives and children for slaves. They themselves had escaped, and were now on their way to visit their chief, who was at that time on the banks of the Zambesi, to beg of him to return, in order that he might bewitch the guns of the Ajawa, and so render them harmless!
“Has a woman of your tribe, named Marunga, been slain110 or captured?” asked Chimbolo eagerly.
To this the men replied that they could not tell. Marunga, they said, was known well to them by name and sight. They did not think she was among the captives, but could not tell what had become of her, as the village where she and her little boy lived had been burnt, and all who had not been killed or captured had taken to the bush. Marunga’s husband, they added, was a man named Chimbolo—not a Manganja man, but a friend of the tribe—who had been taken by the slavers, under command of a Portuguese half-caste named Marizano, about two years before that time.
Chimbolo winced111 as though he had been stung when Marizano’s name was mentioned, and a dark frown contracted his brows when he told the Manganja men that he was Chimbolo, and that he was even then in search of Marunga and her little boy.
When all this had been explained to Harold Seadrift he told the men that it was a pity to waste time in travelling such a long way to see their chief, who could not, even if he wished, bewitch the guns of the Ajawa, and advised them to turn back and guide him and his men to the place where the attack had been made on the Manganja, so that a search might be made in the bush for those of the people who had escaped.
This was agreed to, and the whole party proceeded on their way with increased speed, Chimbolo and Harold hoping they might yet find that Marunga had escaped, and Disco earnestly desiring that they might only fall in with the Ajawa and have a brush with them, in which case he assured the negroes he would show them a way of bewitching their guns that would beat their chief’s bewitchment all to sticks and stivers!
The village in which Marunga had dwelt was soon reached. It was, as they had been told by their new friends, a heap of still smouldering ashes; but it was not altogether destitute112 of signs of life. A dog was observed to slink away into the bush as they approached.
The moment Chimbolo observed it he darted113 into the bush after it.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Disco in surprise; “that nigger seems to have took a sudden fancy to the cur?—Eh, Antonio, wot’s the reason of that, think ’ee?”
“Dunno; s’pose where dog be mans be?”
“Ah! or womans,” suggested Disco.
“Or womans,” assented114 Antonio.
Just then they heard Chimbolo’s shout, which was instantly followed by a succession of female shrieks115. These latter were repeated several times, and sounded as though the fugitives116 were scattering117.
“Hims find a nest of womins!” exclaimed Jumbo, throwing down his load and dashing away into the bush.
Every individual of the party followed his example, not excepting Harold and Disco, the latter of whom was caught by the leg, the moment he left the track, by a wait-a-bit thorn—most appropriately so-called, because its powerful spikes118 are always ready to seize and detain the unwary passer-by. In the present instance it checked the seaman’s career for a few seconds, and rent his nether119 garments sadly; while Harold, profiting by his friend’s misfortune, leaped over the bush, and passed on. Disco quickly extricated120 himself, and followed.
They were not left far behind, and overtook their comrades just as they emerged on an open space, or glade100, at the extremity121 of which a sight met their eyes that filled them with astonishment122, for there a troop of women and one or two boys were seen walking towards them, with Chimbolo in front, having a child on his left shoulder, and performing a sort of insane war-dance round one of the women.
“He’s catched her!” exclaimed Disco, with excited looks, just as if Chimbolo had been angling unsuccessfully for a considerable time, and had hooked a stupendous fish at last.
And Disco was right. A few of the poor creatures who were so recently burnt out of their homes, and had lost most of those dearest to them, had ventured, as if drawn123 by an irresistible spell, to return with timid steps to the scene of their former happiness, but only to have their worst fears confirmed. Their homes, their protectors, their children, their hopes, all were gone at one fell swoop124. Only one among them—one who, having managed to save her only child, had none to mourn over, and no one to hope to meet with—only one returned to a joyful125 meeting. We need scarcely say that this was Marunga.
The fact was instantly made plain to the travellers by the wild manner in which Chimbolo shouted her name, pointed126 to her, and danced round her, while he showed all his glistening127 teeth and as much of the whites of his eyes as was consistent with these members remaining in their orbits.
Really it was quite touching128, in spite of its being ludicrous, the way in which the poor fellow poured forth his joy like a very child,—which he was in everything except years; and Harold could not help remembering, and recalling to Disco’s memory, Yoosoof’s observations touching the hardness of negroes’ hearts, and their want of natural affection, on the morning when his dhow was captured by the boat of the “Firefly.”
The way in which, ever and anon, Chimbolo kissed his poor but now happy wife, was wondrously129 similar to the mode in which white men perform that little operation, except that there was more of an unrefined smack130 in it. The tears which would hop13 over his sable131 cheeks now and then sparkled to the full as brightly as European tears, and were perhaps somewhat bigger; and the pride with which he regarded his little son, holding him in both hands out at arms’-length, was only excelled by the joy and the tremendous laugh with which he received a kick on the nose from that undutiful son’s black little toes.
But Yoosoof never chanced to be present when such exhibitions of negro feeling and susceptibility took place. How could he, seeing that men and women and children—if black—fled from him, and such as he, in abject132 terror? Neither did Yoosoof ever chance to be present when women sat down beside their blackened hearths133, as they did that night, and quietly wept as though their hearts would burst at the memory of little voices and manly134 tones—not silent in death, but worse than that—gone, gone for ever! Doubtless they felt though they never heard of, and could not in words express, the sentiment—
“Oh for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still.”
Yoosoof knew not of, and cared nothing for, such feelings as these. We ask again, how could he? His only experience of the negro was when cowering135 before him as a slave, or when yelling in agony under his terrible lash136, or when brutalised and rendered utterly137 apathetic138 by inhuman139 cruelty.
Harold learned, that night on further conversation with the Manganja men, that a raid had recently been made into those regions by more than one band of slavers, sent out to capture men and women by the Portuguese half-castes of the towns of Senna and Tette, on the Zambesi, and that they had been carrying the inhabitants out of the country at the rate of about two hundred a week.
This however was but a small speck140, so to speak, of the mighty work of kidnapping human beings that was going on—that is still going on in those regions. Yoosoof would have smiled—he never laughed—if you had mentioned such a number as being large.
But in truth he cared nothing about such facts, except in so far as they represented a large amount of profit accrueing to himself.
The result of Harold Seadrift’s cogitations on these matters was that he resolved to pass through as much of the land as he could within a reasonable time, and agreed to accompany Chimbolo on a visit to his tribe, which dwelt at some distance to the north of the Manganja highlands.
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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irreconcilable
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| adj.（指人）难和解的，势不两立的 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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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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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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17
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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18
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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19
buffaloes
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| n.水牛（分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种）( buffalo的名词复数 )；（南非或北美的）野牛；威胁；恐吓 | |
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aquatic
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| adj.水生的，水栖的 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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22
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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23
tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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24
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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25
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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26
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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27
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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28
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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29
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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30
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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31
tributaries
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| n. 支流 | |
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32
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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33
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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34
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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35
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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36
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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37
tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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38
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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39
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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40
toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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41
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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42
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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43
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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44
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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45
proboscis
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| n.（象的）长鼻 | |
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46
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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47
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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48
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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49
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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50
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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51
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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52
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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53
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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54
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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55
illustrates
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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56
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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57
facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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58
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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59
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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60
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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61
hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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62
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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63
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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64
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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65
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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66
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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67
implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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68
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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69
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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70
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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71
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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72
vouches
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| v.保证( vouch的第三人称单数 )；担保；确定；确定地说 | |
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73
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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74
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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75
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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76
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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77
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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78
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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79
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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80
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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81
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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82
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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83
decomposition
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| n. 分解, 腐烂, 崩溃 | |
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84
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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85
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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86
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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87
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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88
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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89
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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91
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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92
chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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93
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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94
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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95
slake
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| v.解渴，使平息 | |
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96
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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97
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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98
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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99
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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100
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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101
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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102
abounded
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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104
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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105
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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106
countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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107
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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108
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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109
kinsmen
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| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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110
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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111
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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113
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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114
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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116
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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117
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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118
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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119
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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120
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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122
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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123
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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124
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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125
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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126
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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127
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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128
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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129
wondrously
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| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
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130
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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131
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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132
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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133
hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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134
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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135
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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136
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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137
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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138
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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139
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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140
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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