I have now somewhat to say about the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, which has the entire management and control of our fleet of 273 lifeboats. That Institution has had a glorious history. It was founded by Sir William Hillary, Baronet—a man who deserves a monument in Westminster Abbey, I think; for, besides originating the Lifeboat Institution, he saved, and assisted in saving, 305 lives, with his own hands!
Born in 1824, the Institution has been the means of saving no fewer than 29,608 lives up to the end of 1882.
At its birth the Archbishop of Canterbury presided; 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 Earl of Liverpool its president, and George the Fourth its patron. In 1850 good Prince Albert became its vice-patron, and her Majesty1 the Queen became, and still continues, a warm supporter and annual contributor. This is a splendid array of names and titles, but let me urge the reader never to forget that this noble Institution depends on the public for the adequate discharge of its grand work, for it is supported almost entirely2 by voluntary contributions.
The sole object of the Institution is to provide and maintain boats that shall save the lives of shipwrecked persons, and to reward those who save lives, whether by means of its own or other boats. The grandeur5 of its aim and singleness of its purpose are among its great recommendations.
When, however, life does not require to be saved, and when opportunity offers, it allows its boats to save property.
It saves—and rewards those who assist in saving—many hundreds of lives every year. Last year (1882) the number saved by lifeboats was 741, besides 143 lives saved by shore-boats and other means, for which rewards were given by the Institution; making a grand total of 884 lives saved in that one year. The number each year is often larger, seldom less. One year (1869) the rescued lives amounted to the grand number of 1231, and in the greater number of cases the rescues were effected in circumstances in which ordinary boats would have been utterly6 useless—worse than useless, for they would have drowned their crews. In respect of this matter the value of the lifeboat to the nation cannot be estimated—at least, not until we invent some sort of spiritual arithmetic whereby we may calculate the price of widows’ and orphans’ tears, and of broken hearts!
But in regard to more material things it is possible to speak definitely.
It frequently happens in stormy weather that vessels8 show signals of distress10, 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 exhausted11 as to be no longer capable of working for their own preservation12. In all such cases the lifeboat puts off with the intention in the first instance of saving life. It reaches the vessel9 in distress; some of the boat’s crew spring on board, and find, perhaps, that there is some hope of saving the ship. Knowing the locality well, they steer13 her clear of rocks and shoals. Being comparatively 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 cargo14 as well as crew.
Now let me impress on you that incidents of this sort are not of rare occurrence. There is no play of fancy in my statements; they happen every year. Last year (1882) twenty-three vessels were thus saved by lifeboat crews. Another year thirty-three, another year fifty-three, ships were thus saved. As surely and regularly as the year comes round, so surely and regularly are ships and property saved by lifeboats—saved to the nation! It cannot be too forcibly pointed15 out that a wrecked4 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 into the sea, it is lost not only to you, but to the nation, indeed to the world itself, for ever,—of course taking for granted that our amphibious divers16 don’t fish it up again!
Well, let us gauge17 the value of our lifeboats in this light. If a lifeboat saves a ship worth ten or twenty thousand sovereigns from destruction, it presents that sum literally18 as a free gift to owners and nation. A free gift, I repeat, because lifeboats are provided solely19 to save life—not property. Saving the latter is, therefore, extraneous20 service. Of course it would be too much to expect our gallant21 boatmen to volunteer to work the lifeboats, in the worst of weather, at the imminent22 risk of their lives, unless they were also allowed an occasional chance of earning salvage23. Accordingly, when they save a ship worth, say 20,000 pounds, they are entitled to put in a claim on the owners for 200 pounds salvage. This sum would be divided (after deducting24 all expenses, such as payments to helpers, hire of horses, etcetera) between the men and the boat. Thus—deduct, say, 20 pounds expenses leaves 180 pounds to divide into fifteen shares; the crew numbering thirteen men:—
13 shares to men at 12 pounds each 156 pounds
2 shares to boat 24 pounds
Total 180 pounds
Let us now consider the value of loaded ships.
Not very long ago a large Spanish ship was saved by one of our lifeboats. She had grounded on a bank off the south coast of Ireland. The captain and crew forsook25 her and escaped to land in their boats. One man, however, was inadvertently left on board. Soon after, the wind shifted; the ship slipped off the bank into deep water, and drifted to the northward26. Her doom27 appeared to be fixed28, but the crew of the Cahore lifeboat observed her, launched their boat, and, after a long pull against wind and sea, boarded the ship and found her with seven feet of water in the hold. The duty of the boat’s crew was to save the Spanish sailor, but they did more, they worked the pumps and trimmed the sails and saved the ship as well, and handed her over to an agent for the owners. This vessel and cargo was valued at 20,000 pounds.
Now observe, in passing, that this Cahore lifeboat not only did much good, but received considerable and well-merited benefit, each man receiving 34 pounds from the grateful owners, who also presented 68 pounds to the Institution, in consideration of the risk of damage incurred29 to their boat. No doubt it may be objected that this, being a foreign ship, was not saved to our nation; but, as the proverb says, “It is not lost what a friend gets,” and I think it is very satisfactory to reflect that we presented the handsome sum of 20,000 pounds to Spain as a free gift on that occasion.
This was a saved ship. Let us look now at a lost one. Some years ago a ship named the Golden Age was lost. It was well named though ill-fated, for the value of that ship and cargo was 200,000 pounds. The cost of a lifeboat with equipment and transporting carriage complete is about 650 pounds, and there are 273 lifeboats at present on the shores of the United Kingdom. Here is material for a calculation! If that single ship had been among the twenty-seven saved last year (and it might have been) the sum thus rescued from the sea would have been sufficient to pay for all the lifeboats in the kingdom, and leave 22,550 pounds in hand! But it was not among the saved. It was lost—a dead loss to Great Britain. So was the Ontario of Liverpool, wrecked in October, 1864, and valued at 100,000 pounds. Also the Assage, wrecked on the Irish coast, and valued at 200,000 pounds. Here are five hundred thousand pounds—half a million of money—lost by the wreck3 of these three ships alone. Of course, these three are selected as specimens30 of the most valuable vessels lost among the two thousand wrecks31 that take place each year on our coasts; they vary from a first-rate mail steamer to a coal coffin32, but set them down at any figure you please, and it will still remain true that it would be worth our while to keep up our lifeboat fleet, for the mere33 chance of saving such valuable property.
But after all is said that can be said on this point, the subject sinks into insignificance34 when contrasted with the lifeboat’s true work—the saving of human lives.
There is yet another and still higher sense in which the lifeboat is of immense value to the nation. I refer to the moral influence it exercises among us. If many hundreds of lives are annually35 saved by our lifeboat fleet, does it not follow, as a necessary consequence, that happiness and gratitude36 must affect thousands of hearts in a way that cannot fail to redound37 to the glory of God, as well as the good of man? Let facts answer this question.
We cannot of course, intrude38 on the privacy of human hearts and tell what goes on there, but there are a few outward symptoms that are generally accepted as pretty fair tests of spiritual condition. One of these is parting with money! Looking at the matter in this light, the records of the Institution show that thousands of men, women, and children, are beneficially influenced by the lifeboat cause.
The highest contributor to its funds in the land is our Queen; the lowliest a sailor’s orphan7 child. Here are a few of the gifts to the Institution, culled39 almost at random40 from the Reports. One gentleman leaves it a legacy41 of 10,000 pounds. Some time ago a sum of 5000 pounds was sent anonymously42 by “a friend.” A hundred pounds comes in as a second donation from “a sailor’s daughter.” Fifty pounds come from a British admiral, and five shillings from “the savings43 of a child!” One-and-sixpence is sent by another child in postage-stamps, and 1 pound 5 shillings as the collection of a Sunday school in Manchester; 15 pounds from three fellow-servants; 10 pounds from a shipwrecked pilot, and 10 shillings, 6 pence from an “old salt.” I myself had once the pleasure of receiving twopence for the lifeboat cause from an exceedingly poor but enthusiastic old woman! But my most interesting experience in this way was the receipt of a note written by a blind boy—well and legibly written, too—telling me that he had raised the sum of 100 pounds for the Lifeboat Institution.
And this beneficial influence of our lifeboat service travels far beyond our own shores. Here is evidence of that. Finland sends 50 pounds to our Institution to testify its appreciation45 of the good done by us to its sailors. President Lincoln, of the United States, when involved in all the anxieties of the great war between North and South, found time to send 100 pounds to the Institution in acknowledgment of services rendered to American ships in distress. Russia and Holland send naval46 men to inspect—not our armaments and materiel of hateful war, but—our lifeboat management! France, in generous emulation47, starts a Lifeboat Institution of its own, and sends over to ask our society to supply it with boats—and, last, but not least, it has been said that foreigners, driven far out of their course and stranded48, soon come to know that they have been wrecked on the British coast, by the persevering49 efforts that are made to save their lives!
And now, good reader, let me urge this subject on your earnest consideration. Surely every one should be ready to lend a hand to rescue the perishing! One would think it almost superfluous50 to say more. So it would be, if there were none who required the line of duty and privilege to be pointed out to them. But I fear that many, especially dwellers51 in the interior of our land, are not sufficiently52 alive to the claims that the lifeboat has upon them.
Let me illustrate53 this by a case or two—imaginary cases, I admit, but none the less illustrative on that account.
“Mother,” says a little boy, with flashing eyes and curly flaxen hair; “I want to go to sea!”
He has been reading “Cook’s Voyages” and “Robinson Crusoe,” and looks wistfully out upon the small pond in front of his home, which is the biggest “bit of water” his eyes have ever seen, for he dwells among the cornfields and pastures of the interior of the land.
“Don’t think of it, darling Willie. You might get wrecked,—perhaps drowned.”
But “darling Willie” does think of it, and asserts that being wrecked is the very thing he wants, and that he’s willing to take his chance of being drowned! And Willie goes on thinking of it, year after year, until he gains his point, and becomes the family’s “sailor boy,” and mayhap, for the first time in her life, Willie’s mother casts more than a passing glance at newspaper records of lifeboat work. But she does no more. She has not yet been awakened55. “The people of the coast naturally look after the things of the coast,” has been her sentiment on the subject—if she has had any definite sentiments about it at all.
On returning from his first voyage Willie’s ship is wrecked. On a horrible night, in the howling tempest, with his flaxen curls tossed about, his hands convulsively clutching the shrouds56 of the topmast, and the hissing57 billows leaping up as if they wished to lick him off his refuge on the cross-trees, Willie awakens58 to the dread59 reality about which he had dreamed when reading Cook and Crusoe. Next morning a lady with livid face, and eyes glaring at a newspaper, gasps60, “Willie’s ship—is—wrecked! five lost—thirteen saved by the lifeboat.” One faint gleam of hope! “Willie may be among the thirteen!” Minutes, that seem hours, of agony ensue; then a telegram arrives, “Saved, Mother—thank God,—by the lifeboat.”
“Ay, thank God,” echoes Willie’s mother, with the profoundest emotion and sincerity61 she ever felt; but think you, reader, that she did no more? Did she pass languidly over the records of lifeboat work after that day? Did she leave the management and support of lifeboats to the people of the coast? I trow not. But what difference had the saving of Willie made in the lifeboat cause? Was hers the only Willie in the wide World? Are we to act on so selfish a principle, as that we shall decline to take an interest in an admittedly grand and good and national cause, until our eyes are forcibly opened by “our Willie” being in danger? Of course I address myself to people who have really kind and sympathetic hearts, but who, from one cause or another, have not yet had this subject earnestly submitted to their consideration. To those who have no heart to consider the woes62 and necessities of suffering humanity, I have nothing whatever to say,—except,—God help them!
Let me enforce this plea—that inland cities and towns and villages should support the Lifeboat Institution—with another imaginary case.
A tremendous gale63 is blowing from the south-east, sleet64 driving like needles—enough, almost, to put your eyes out. A “good ship,” under close-reefed topsails, is bearing up for port after a prosperous voyage, but the air is so thick with drift that they cannot make out the guiding lights. She strikes and sticks fast on outlying sands, where the sea is roaring and leaping like a thousand fiends in the wintry blast. There are passengers on board from the Antipodes, with boxes and bags of gold-dust, the result of years of toil65 at the diggings. They do not realise the full significance of the catastrophe66. No wonder—they are landsmen! The tide chances to be low at the time; as it rises, they awake to the dread reality. Billows burst over them like miniature Niagaras. The good ship which has for many weeks breasted the waves so gallantly67, and seemed so solid and so strong, is treated like a cork68, and becomes apparently69 an egg-shell!
Night comes—darkness increasing the awful aspect of the situation tenfold. What are boxes and bags of gold-dust now—now that wild despair has seized them all, excepting those who, through God’s grace, have learned to “fear no evil?”
Suddenly, through darkness, spray, and hurly-burly thick, a ghostly boat is seen! The lifeboat! Well do the seamen70 know its form! A cheer arouses sinking hearts, and hope once more revives. The work of rescuing is vigorously, violently, almost fiercely begun. The merest child might see that the motto of the lifeboat-men is “Victory or death.” But it cannot be done as quickly as they desire; the rolling of the wreck, the mad plunging71 and sheering of the boat, prevent that.
A sturdy middle-aged72 man named Brown—a common name, frequently associated with common sense—is having a rope fastened round his waist by one of the lifeboat crew named Jones—also a common name, not seldom associated with uncommon73 courage. But Brown must wait a few minutes while his wife is being lowered into the boat.
“Oh! be careful. Do it gently, there’s a good fellow,” roars Brown, in terrible anxiety, as he sees her swung off.
“Never fear, sir; she’s all right,” says Jones, with a quiet reassuring74 smile, for Jones is a tough old hand, accustomed to such scenes.
Mrs Brown misses the boat, and dips into the raging sea.
“Gone!” gasps Brown, struggling to free himself from Jones and leap after her, but the grasp of Jones is too much for him.
“Hold on, sir? she’s all right, sir, bless you; they’ll have her on board in a minute.”
“I’ve got bags, boxes, bucketfuls of gold in the hold,” roars Brown. “Only save her, and it’s all yours!”
The shrieking75 blast will not allow even his strong voice to reach the men in the lifeboat, but they need no such inducement to work.
“The gold won’t be yours long,” remarks Jones, with another smile. Neptune’ll have it all to-night. See! they’ve got her into the boat all right, sir. Now don’t struggle so; you’ll get down to her in a minute. There’s another lady to go before your turn comes.
During these few moments of forced inaction the self-possessed Jones remarks to Brown, in order to quiet him, that they’ll be all saved in half an hour, and asks if he lives near that part of the coast.
“Live near it!” gasps Brown. “No! I live nowhere. Bin54 five years at the diggings. Made a fortune. Going to live with the old folk now—at Blunderton, far away from the sea; high up among the mountains.”
“The lifeboats? No, of course not; never think of lifeboats up there.”
“Some of you think of ’em down here, though,” remarks Jones. “Do you help the cause in any way, sir?”
“Me? No. Never gave a shilling to it.”
“Well, never mind. It’s your turn now, sir. Come along. We’ll save you. Jump!” cries Jones.
And they do save him, and all on board of that ill-fated ship, with as much heartfelt satisfaction as if the rescued ones had each been a contributor of a thousand a year to the lifeboat cause.
“Don’t forget us, sir, when you gits home,” whispers Jones to Brown at parting.
And does Brown forget him? Nay77, verily! He goes home to Blunderton, stirs up the people, hires the town-hall, gets the chief magistrate78 to take the chair, and forms a Branch of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution—the Blunderton Branch, which, ever afterwards, honourably79 bears its annual share in the expense, and in the privilege, of rescuing men, women, and little ones from the raging seas. Moreover, Brown becomes the enthusiastic secretary of the Branch. And here let me remark that no society of this nature can hope to succeed, unless its secretary be an enthusiast44.
Now, reader, if you think I have made out a good case, let me entreat80 you to go, with Brown in your eye, “and do likewise.”
And don’t fancy that I am advising you to attempt the impossible. The supposed Blunderton case is founded on fact. During a lecturing tour one man—somewhat enthusiastic in the lifeboat cause—preached the propriety81 of inland towns starting Branches of the Lifeboat Institution. Upwards82 of half a dozen such towns responded to the exhortation83, and, from that date, have continued to be annual contributors and sympathisers.
点击收听单词发音
1 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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2 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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3 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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4 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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5 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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6 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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7 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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8 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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9 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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10 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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11 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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12 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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13 steer | |
vt.驾驶,为…操舵;引导;vi.驾驶 | |
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14 cargo | |
n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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15 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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16 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
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17 gauge | |
v.精确计量;估计;n.标准度量;计量器 | |
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18 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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19 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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20 extraneous | |
adj.体外的;外来的;外部的 | |
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21 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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22 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
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23 salvage | |
v.救助,营救,援救;n.救助,营救 | |
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24 deducting | |
v.扣除,减去( deduct的现在分词 ) | |
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25 forsook | |
forsake的过去式 | |
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26 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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27 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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28 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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29 incurred | |
[医]招致的,遭受的; incur的过去式 | |
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30 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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31 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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32 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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33 mere | |
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34 insignificance | |
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35 annually | |
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36 gratitude | |
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37 redound | |
v.有助于;提;报应 | |
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38 intrude | |
vi.闯入;侵入;打扰,侵扰 | |
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39 culled | |
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40 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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41 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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42 anonymously | |
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43 savings | |
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44 enthusiast | |
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45 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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46 naval | |
adj.海军的,军舰的,船的 | |
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47 emulation | |
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48 stranded | |
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49 persevering | |
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50 superfluous | |
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51 dwellers | |
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52 sufficiently | |
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54 bin | |
n.箱柜;vt.放入箱内;[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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55 awakened | |
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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56 shrouds | |
n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 );寿衣;遮蔽物;覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 );保密 | |
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57 hissing | |
n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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58 awakens | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的第三人称单数 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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59 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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60 gasps | |
v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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61 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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62 woes | |
困境( woe的名词复数 ); 悲伤; 我好苦哇; 某人就要倒霉 | |
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63 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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64 sleet | |
n.雨雪;v.下雨雪,下冰雹 | |
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65 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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66 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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67 gallantly | |
adv. 漂亮地,勇敢地,献殷勤地 | |
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68 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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70 seamen | |
n.海员 | |
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adj.跳进的,突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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72 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
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73 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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74 reassuring | |
a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的,使人放心的 | |
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75 shrieking | |
v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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76 grunts | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说; 石鲈 | |
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77 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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78 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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79 honourably | |
adv.可尊敬地,光荣地,体面地 | |
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80 entreat | |
v.恳求,恳请 | |
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81 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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82 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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83 exhortation | |
n.劝告,规劝 | |
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