He shook his head with mournful regret and threw another handful of fuel on the fire. The burst of clear flame lit up his broad, dark, and pock-marked face, where the big lips, stained with betel-juice, looked like a deep and bleeding gash6 of a fresh wound. The reflection of the firelight gleamed brightly in his solitary7 eye, lending it for a moment a fierce animation8 that died out together with the short-lived flame. With quick touches of his bare hands he raked the embers into a heap, then, wiping the warm ash on his waistcloth — his only garment — he clasped his thin legs with his entwined fingers, and rested his chin on his drawn-up knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his position or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on which they had been fixed9 in dreamy immobility.
“Yes,” went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as if pursuing aloud a train of thought that had its beginning in the silent contemplation of the unstable10 nature of earthly greatness —“yes. He has been rich and strong, and now he lives on alms: old, feeble, blind, and without companions, but for his daughter. The Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and the pale woman — his daughter — cooks it for him, for he has no slave.”
“I saw her from afar,” muttered Lakamba, disparagingly11. “A she-dog with white teeth, like a woman of the Orang-Putih.”
“Right, right,” assented12 Babalatchi; “but you have not seen her near. Her mother was a woman from the west; a Baghdadi woman with veiled face. Now she goes uncovered, like our women do, for she is poor and he is blind, and nobody ever comes near them unless to ask for a charm or a blessing13 and depart quickly for fear of his anger and of the Rajah’s hand. You have not been on that side of the river?”
“Not for a long time. If I go . . . ”
“True! true!” interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly14, “but I go often alone — for your good — and look — and listen. When the time comes; when we both go together towards the Rajah’s campong, it will be to enter — and to remain.”
Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily.
“This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too often it becomes foolish, like the prattle15 of children.”
“Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and have heard the wind of the rainy seasons,” said Babalatchi, impressively.
“And where is your wisdom? It must be with the wind and the clouds of seasons past, for I do not hear it in your talk.”
“Those are the words of the ungrateful!” shouted Babalatchi, with sudden exasperation16. “Verily, our only refuge is with the One, the Mighty17, the Redresser18 of . . . ”
“Peace! Peace!” growled19 the startled Lakamba. “It is but a friend’s talk.”
Babalatchi subsided20 into his former attitude, muttering to himself. After awhile he went on again in a louder voice —
“Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here in Sambir, the daughter of the blind Omar el Badavi has spoken to other ears than mine.”
“Would a white man listen to a beggar’s daughter?” said Lakamba, doubtingly.
“Hai! I have seen . . . ”
“And what did you see? O one-eyed one!” exclaimed Lakamba, contemptuously.
“I have seen the strange white man walking on the narrow path before the sun could dry the drops of dew on the bushes, and I have heard the whisper of his voice when he spoke21 through the smoke of the morning fire to that woman with big eyes and a pale skin. Woman in body, but in heart a man! She knows no fear and no shame. I have heard her voice too.”
He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave himself up to silent musing22, his solitary eye fixed immovably upon the straight wall of forest on the opposite bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring vacantly. Under them Lingard’s own river rippled23 softly amongst the piles supporting the bamboo platform of the little watch-house before which they were lying. Behind the house the ground rose in a gentle swell24 of a low hill cleared of the big timber, but thickly overgrown with the grass and bushes, now withered25 and burnt up in the long drought of the dry season. This old rice clearing, which had been several years lying fallow, was framed on three sides by the impenetrable and tangled26 growth of the untouched forest, and on the fourth came down to the muddy river bank. There was not a breath of wind on the land or river, but high above, in the transparent27 sky, little clouds rushed past the moon, now appearing in her diffused28 rays with the brilliance29 of silver, now obscuring her face with the blackness of ebony. Far away, in the middle of the river, a fish would leap now and then with a short splash, the very loudness of which measured the profundity30 of the overpowering silence that swallowed up the sharp sound suddenly.
Lakamba dozed31 uneasily off, but the wakeful Babalatchi sat thinking deeply, sighing from time to time, and slapping himself over his naked torso incessantly32 in a vain endeavour to keep off an occasional and wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the platform above the swarms33 of the riverside, would settle with a ping of triumph on the unexpected victim. The moon, pursuing her silent and toilsome path, attained35 her highest elevation37, and chasing the shadow of the roof-eaves from Lakamba’s face, seemed to hang arrested over their heads. Babalatchi revived the fire and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and shivering discontentedly.
Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like the murmur38 of a brook39 that runs over the stones: low, monotonous40, persistent41; irresistible42 in its power to wear out and to destroy the hardest obstacles. Lakamba listened, silent but interested. They were Malay adventurers; ambitious men of that place and time; the Bohemians of their race. In the early days of the settlement, before the ruler Patalolo had shaken off his allegiance to the Sultan of Koti, Lakamba appeared in the river with two small trading vessels43. He was disappointed to find already some semblance46 of organization amongst the settlers of various races who recognized the unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and he was not politic47 enough to conceal48 his disappointment. He declared himself to be a man from the east, from those parts where no white man ruled, and to be of an oppressed race, but of a princely family. And truly enough he had all the gifts of an exiled prince. He was discontented, ungrateful, turbulent; a man full of envy and ready for intrigue49, with brave words and empty promises for ever on his lips. He was obstinate50, but his will was made up of short impulses that never lasted long enough to carry him to the goal of his ambition. Received coldly by the suspicious Patalolo, he persisted — permission or no permission — in clearing the ground on a good spot some fourteen miles down the river from Sambir, and built himself a house there, which he fortified51 by a high palisade. As he had many followers52 and seemed very reckless, the old Rajah did not think it prudent53 at the time to interfere54 with him by force. Once settled, he began to intrigue. The quarrel of Patalolo with the Sultan of Koti was of his fomenting55, but failed to produce the result he expected because the Sultan could not back him up effectively at such a great distance. Disappointed in that scheme, he promptly56 organized an outbreak of the Bugis settlers, and besieged57 the old Rajah in his stockade58 with much noisy valour and a fair chance of success; but Lingard then appeared on the scene with the armed brig, and the old seaman’s hairy forefinger59, shaken menacingly in his face, quelled60 his martial61 ardour. No man cared to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, with momentary62 resignation, subsided into a half-cultivator, half-trader, and nursed in his fortified house his wrath63 and his ambition, keeping it for use on a more propitious64 occasion. Still faithful to his character of a prince-pretender, he would not recognize the constituted authorities, answering sulkily the Rajah’s messenger, who claimed the tribute for the cultivated fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it himself. By Lingard’s advice he was left alone, notwithstanding his rebellious67 mood; and for many days he lived undisturbed amongst his wives and retainers, cherishing that persistent and causeless hope of better times, the possession of which seems to be the universal privilege of exiled greatness.
But the passing days brought no change. The hope grew faint and the hot ambition burnt itself out, leaving only a feeble and expiring spark amongst a heap of dull and tepid68 ashes of indolent acquiescence69 with the decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it again into a bright flame. Babalatchi had blundered upon the river while in search of a safe refuge for his disreputable head.
He was a vagabond of the seas, a true Orang-Laut, living by rapine and plunder70 of coasts and ships in his prosperous days; earning his living by honest and irksome toil34 when the days of adversity were upon him. So, although at times leading the Sulu rovers, he had also served as Serang of country ships, and in that wise had visited the distant seas, beheld71 the glories of Bombay, the might of the Mascati Sultan; had even struggled in a pious72 throng73 for the privilege of touching74 with his lips the Sacred Stone of the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom in many lands, and after attaching himself to Omar el Badavi, he affected75 great piety76 (as became a pilgrim), although unable to read the inspired words of the Prophet. He was brave and bloodthirsty without any affection, and he hated the white men who interfered77 with the manly78 pursuits of throat-cutting, kidnapping, slave-dealing, and fire-raising, that were the only possible occupation for a true man of the sea. He found favour in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the leader of Brunei rovers, whom he followed with unquestioning loyalty79 through the long years of successful depredation80. And when that long career of murder, robbery and violence received its first serious check at the hands of white men, he stood faithfully by his chief, looked steadily81 at the bursting shells, was undismayed by the flames of the burning stronghold, by the death of his companions, by the shrieks82 of their women, the wailing83 of their children; by the sudden ruin and destruction of all that he deemed indispensable to a happy and glorious existence. The beaten ground between the houses was slippery with blood, and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks84 were full of sighs of the dying men who were stricken down before they could see their enemy. They died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there was no escape, and their swift praus, in which they had so often scoured85 the coast and the seas, now wedged together in the narrow creek, were burning fiercely. Babalatchi, with the clear perception of the coming end, devoted86 all his energies to saving if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in time. When the end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally blinded, with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:— the sons had fallen earlier in the day, as became men of their courage. Helped by the girl with the steadfast87 heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on board the light prau and succeeded in escaping, but with very few companions only. As they hauled their craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they could hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of-war’s boats dashing to the attack of the rover’s village. Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her father’s blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi. “They shall find only smoke, blood and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living,” she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: “They are very strong. When we fight with them we can only die. Yet,” he added, menacingly —“some of us still live! Some of us still live!”
For a short time he dreamed of vengeance88, but his dream was dispelled89 by the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge at first and who gave them only a contemptuous and grudging90 hospitality. While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi attended industriously91 before the exalted92 Presence that had extended to them the hand of Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi spoke into the Sultan’s ear certain proposals of a great and profitable raid, that was to sweep the islands from Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan was very angry. “I know you, you men from the west,” he exclaimed, angrily. “Your words are poison in a Ruler’s ears. Your talk is of fire and murder and booty — but on our heads falls the vengeance of the blood you drink. Begone!”
There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. So changed that, when a Spanish frigate93 appeared before the island and a demand was sent to the Sultan to deliver Omar and his companions, Babalatchi was not surprised to hear that they were going to be made the victims of political expediency94. But from that sane95 appreciation96 of danger to tame submission97 was a very long step. And then began Omar’s second flight. It began arms in hand, for the little band had to fight in the night on the beach for the possession of the small canoes in which those that survived got away at last. The story of that escape lives in the hearts of brave men even to this day. They talk of Babalatchi and of the strong woman who carried her blind father through the surf under the fire of the warship98 from the north. The companions of that piratical and son-less Aeneas are dead now, but their ghosts wander over the waters and the islands at night — after the manner of ghosts — and haunt the fires by which sit armed men, as is meet for the spirits of fearless warriors99 who died in battle. There they may hear the story of their own deeds, of their own courage, suffering and death, on the lips of living men. That story is told in many places. On the cool mats in breezy verandahs of Rajahs’ houses it is alluded100 to disdainfully by impassive statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the courtyards it is a tale which stills the murmur of voices and the tinkle101 of anklets; arrests the passage of the siri-vessel44, and fixes the eyes in absorbed gaze. They talk of the fight, of the fearless woman, of the wise man; of long suffering on the thirsty sea in leaky canoes; of those who died. . . . Many died. A few survived. The chief, the woman, and another one who became great.
There was no hint of incipient102 greatness in Babalatchi’s unostentatious arrival in Sambir. He came with Omar and Aissa in a small prau loaded with green cocoanuts, and claimed the ownership of both vessel and cargo103. How it came to pass that Babalatchi, fleeing for his life in a small canoe, managed to end his hazardous105 journey in a vessel full of a valuable commodity, is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle the most searching inquiry106. In truth nobody inquired much. There were rumours107 of a missing trading prau belonging to Menado, but they were vague and remained mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which — it must be said in justice to Patalolo’s knowledge of the world — was not believed. When the Rajah ventured to state his doubts, Babalatchi asked him in tones of calm remonstrance108 whether he could reasonably suppose that two oldish men — who had only one eye amongst them — and a young woman were likely to gain possession of anything whatever by violence? Charity was a virtue3 recommended by the Prophet. There were charitable people, and their hand was open to the deserving. Patalolo wagged his aged104 head doubtingly, and Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien109 and put himself forthwith under Lakamba’s protection. The two men who completed the prau’s crew followed him into that magnate’s campong. The blind Omar, with Aissa, remained under the care of the Rajah, and the Rajah confiscated110 the cargo. The prau hauled up on the mud-bank, at the junction111 of the two branches of the Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped112 in the sun, fell to pieces and gradually vanished into the smoke of household fires of the settlement. Only a forgotten plank113 and a rib65 or two, sticking neglected in the shiny ooze114 for a long time, served to remind Babalatchi during many months that he was a stranger in the land.
Otherwise, he felt perfectly115 at home in Lakamba’s establishment, where his peculiar116 position and influence were quickly recognized and soon submitted to even by the women. He had all a true vagabond’s pliability117 to circumstances and adaptiveness to momentary surroundings. In his readiness to learn from experience that contempt for early principles so necessary to a true statesman, he equalled the most successful politicians of any age; and he had enough persuasiveness118 and firmness of purpose to acquire a complete mastery over Lakamba’s vacillating mind — where there was nothing stable but an all-pervading discontent. He kept the discontent alive, he rekindled119 the expiring ambition, he moderated the poor exile’s not unnatural120 impatience121 to attain36 a high and lucrative122 position. He — the man of violence — deprecated the use of force, for he had a clear comprehension of the difficult situation. From the same cause, he — the hater of white men — would to some extent admit the eventual123 expediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be done in a hurry. Whatever his master Lakamba might think, there was no use in poisoning old Patalolo, he maintained. It could be done, of course; but what then? As long as Lingard’s influence was paramount124 — as long as Almayer, Lingard’s representative, was the only great trader of the settlement, it was not worth Lakamba’s while — even if it had been possible — to grasp the rule of the young state. Killing125 Almayer and Lingard was so difficult and so risky126 that it might be dismissed as impracticable. What was wanted was an alliance; somebody to set up against the white men’s influence — and somebody who, while favourable127 to Lakamba, would at the same time be a person of a good standing66 with the Dutch authorities. A rich and considered trader was wanted. Such a person once firmly established in Sambir would help them to oust128 the old Rajah, to remove him from power or from life if there was no other way. Then it would be time to apply to the Orang Blanda for a flag; for a recognition of their meritorious129 services; for that protection which would make them safe for ever! The word of a rich and loyal trader would mean something with the Ruler down in Batavia. The first thing to do was to find such an ally and to induce him to settle in Sambir. A white trader would not do. A white man would not fall in with their ideas — would not be trustworthy. The man they wanted should be rich, unscrupulous, have many followers, and be a well-known personality in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst the Arab traders. Lingard’s jealousy130, said Babalatchi, kept all the traders out of the river. Some were afraid, and some did not know how to get there; others ignored the very existence of Sambir; a good many did not think it worth their while to run the risk of Lingard’s enmity for the doubtful advantage of trade with a comparatively unknown settlement. The great majority were undesirable131 or untrustworthy. And Babalatchi mentioned regretfully the men he had known in his young days: wealthy, resolute132, courageous133, reckless, ready for any enterprise! But why lament134 the past and speak about the dead? There is one man — living — great — not far off . . .
Such was Babalatchi’s line of policy laid before his ambitious protector. Lakamba assented, his only objection being that it was very slow work. In his extreme desire to grasp dollars and power, the unintellectual exile was ready to throw himself into the arms of any wandering cut-throat whose help could be secured, and Babalatchi experienced great difficulty in restraining him from unconsidered violence. It would not do to let it be seen that they had any hand in introducing a new element into the social and political life of Sambir. There was always a possibility of failure, and in that case Lingard’s vengeance would be swift and certain. No risk should be run. They must wait.
Meantime he pervaded135 the settlement, squatting in the course of each day by many household fires, testing the public temper and public opinion — and always talking about his impending136 departure.
At night he would often take Lakamba’s smallest canoe and depart silently to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the other side of the river. Omar lived in odour of sanctity under the wing of Patalolo. Between the bamboo fence, enclosing the houses of the Rajah, and the wild forest, there was a banana plantation137, and on its further edge stood two little houses built on low piles under a few precious fruit trees that grew on the banks of a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind the house, ran in its short and rapid course down to the big river. Along the brook a narrow path led through the dense138 second growth of a neglected clearing to the banana plantation and to the houses in it which the Rajah had given for residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly impressed by Omar’s ostentatious piety, by his oracular wisdom, by his many misfortunes, by the solemn fortitude139 with which he bore his affliction. Often the old ruler of Sambir would visit informally the blind Arab and listen gravely to his talk during the hot hours of an afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would call and interrupt Omar’s repose140, unrebuked. Aissa, standing silently at the door of one of the huts, could see the two old friends as they sat very still by the fire in the middle of the beaten ground between the two houses, talking in an indistinct murmur far into the night. She could not hear their words, but she watched the two formless shadows curiously141. Finally Babalatchi would rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would lead him back to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out quietly. Instead of going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa’s eyes, often sat again by the fire, in a long and deep meditation142. Aissa looked with respect on that wise and brave man — she was accustomed to see at her father’s side as long as she could remember — sitting alone and thoughtful in the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind wandering in the land of memories, or — who knows? — perhaps groping for a road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future.
Babalatchi noted143 the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession to the white men’s strength. Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met Willems one night on the path leading to Omar’s house, and noticed later on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem to be aware of the new white man’s visits to the neighbourhood of his dwelling144. Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied he could see the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side of the brook. That day he watched Aissa pensively145 as she moved about preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly away before sunset, refusing Omar’s hospitable146 invitation, in the name of Allah, to share their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by announcing that the time had come at last to make the first move in their long-deferred game. Lakamba asked excitedly for explanation. Babalatchi shook his head and pointed45 to the flitting shadows of moving women and to the vague forms of men sitting by the evening fires in the courtyard. Not a word would he speak here, he declared. But when the whole household was reposing147, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent amongst sleeping groups to the riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled off stealthily on their way to the dilapidated guard-hut in the old rice-clearing. There they were safe from all eyes and ears, and could account, if need be, for their excursion by the wish to kill a deer, the spot being well known as the drinking-place of all kinds of game. In the seclusion148 of its quiet solitude149 Babalatchi explained his plan to the attentive150 Lakamba. His idea was to make use of Willems for the destruction of Lingard’s influence.
“I know the white men, Tuan,” he said, in conclusion. “In many lands have I seen them; always the slaves of their desires, always ready to give up their strength and their reason into the hands of some woman. The fate of the Believers is written by the hand of the Mighty One, but they who worship many gods are thrown into the world with smooth foreheads, for any woman’s hand to mark their destruction there. Let one white man destroy another.
The will of the Most High is that they should be fools. They know how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards each other they know only deception151. Hai! I have seen! I have seen!”
He stretched himself full length before the fire, and closed his eye in real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, not quite convinced, sat for a long time with his gaze riveted152 on the dull embers. As the night advanced, a slight white mist rose from the river, and the declining moon, bowed over the tops of the forest, seemed to seek the repose of the earth, like a wayward and wandering lover who returns at last to lay his tired and silent head on his beloved’s breast.
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1
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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2
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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3
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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5
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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9
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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10
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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11
disparagingly
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| adv.以贬抑的口吻，以轻视的态度 | |
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12
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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15
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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redresser
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| 改正[修正，调整，补偿]者；解调器 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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spoke
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| 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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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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30
profundity
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| n.渊博；深奥，深刻 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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33
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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34
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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35
attained
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| （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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36
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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37
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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38
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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39
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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40
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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41
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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42
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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43
vessels
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| 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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44
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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45
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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46
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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47
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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48
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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49
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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50
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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51
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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52
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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53
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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54
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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55
fomenting
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| v.激起，煽动（麻烦等）( foment的现在分词 ) | |
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56
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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57
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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59
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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60
quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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62
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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63
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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64
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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65
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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66
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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67
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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68
tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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69
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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70
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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71
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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72
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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73
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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74
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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75
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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76
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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77
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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78
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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79
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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80
depredation
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| n.掠夺，蹂躏 | |
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81
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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82
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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83
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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84
creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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85
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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86
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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87
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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88
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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89
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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91
industriously
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92
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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93
frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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94
expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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95
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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96
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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97
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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98
warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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99
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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100
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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102
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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103
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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104
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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105
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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106
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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107
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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108
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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109
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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110
confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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112
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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113
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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114
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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115
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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116
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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117
pliability
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| n.柔韧性；可弯性 | |
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118
persuasiveness
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| 说服力 | |
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119
rekindled
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| v.使再燃( rekindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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121
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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122
lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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123
eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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124
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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125
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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126
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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127
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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128
oust
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| vt.剥夺，取代，驱逐 | |
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129
meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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130
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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131
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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132
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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133
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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134
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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135
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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137
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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138
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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139
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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140
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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141
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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142
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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143
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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144
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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145
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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146
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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147
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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148
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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149
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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150
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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151
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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152
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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