MANGAIA, where we next stopped, proved quite an exciting place. You cannot land upon Mangaia in the ordinary way: the reef that surrounds it is unbroken, and girdles the whole island in a fortress1 moat of its own. The only way to land is to get into one of the numberless native canoes that crowd about the ship, and let the copper-coloured owner take you over the reef in his own way, which is the determined2 and decisive way of a steeplechaser at a fence. It is most excellent fun and a new thing in sensations. As the little dug-out—made of nothing more elaborate than a hollowed mango log, with an outrigger at one side—rushes shoreward on the crest3 of a foaming4 roller, you watch with rather anxious interest the movements of the dusky boatman, who poises6 his paddle in the air, waits, looks, and strikes the water, always at exactly the right moment—usually when you are just beginning to think of kicking off your shoes.
There is the reef right in front, a pearly shadow in the blue, with up-springing spears of ivory, bared like the teeth of a tiger, when the wave rolls back. Are we going to jump that? We are indeed. The boatman lifts his paddle—we sweep upwards7 on the sloping blue satin neck of a curling wave. No no, that will not do—not this time. He backs water—we hang on the crest of the wave—but we are not going to be drowned, or snapped up by the sharks that haunt the reefs, because the boatman is a born islander, and what he does not know about canoeing over a reef, neither you nor I need attempt to teach him. Another wave, a monster this time, swinging us up into the air as if we were a couple of grasshoppers8 out paddling in a walnut9 shell. That will do: here she goes! The wave roars with us; the wicked white fangs10 gleam on either hand: our rough thick keel scrapes agonisingly on the coral, and there is a smother11 of foam5 and tumbling blue and bursting green all about the cranky little craft. Bump! we have struck—we strike again, but it does not seem to matter in the least: over we go, and we are in the smooth, safe, shallow green water inside, and across the reef. And here are a dozen men of Mangaia, splashing’ about in the lagoon12, ready to pick up the visitor in their powerful arms as soon as the canoe grounds in the shallow* water, and carry her ashore13.
That is how one lands on Mangaia.
This island is of a good size, being some thirty mile? in circumference14. Its formation is very notable, being indeed rather celebrated15 among geologists16. It is supposed to be of volcanic17 origin, like most of the “high” islands. From the sea, it looks much like any other place of the same size. But, going inland, one is astonished to find that a mere18 strip of land close round the coast terminates the ground available for walking on. A high irregular cliff wall, from fifty to a hundred feet in height, encloses the whole interior of the island, which thus resembles in shape a very large cup set on a very small saucer. Within the cup lie all fertile lands, the taro19 beds, the yam fields, the pineapple patches, the tangled20 bush, where cotton used to be grown in the days of the American war, the low green shrubberies that produce the finest coffee in the Cook Islands. To reach them, there is only one way—that furnished by a really wonderful rocky staircase, built in prehistoric21 times by the ancestors of the present natives. If one were to find such a work in any other of the Cook Islands one might regard it as proof positive of the existence of an older and more industrious22 race, in the days before the New Zealand Maori took possession of these lands, and grew effeminate and idle in the occupying.
But the people of Mangaia, though identical in descent with incurably23 indolent and sensual Aitutakians and Raratongans, have been moulded by their environment to a degree that amounts to an actual difference in character. The barrier reef has always prevented the free communication enjoyed by other islands, so that they were able to develop along their own lines of character, without modification24 from outside. With an island that possessed25 only a limited amount of fertile land, a matchless fortress in the interior, and a complete barrier about the exterior26, it was a foregone conclusion that the Mangaians should become inhospitable, reserved, and hard-working, as compared with the prodigally27 generous and idle folk of the open and fertile islands. They did so. In the days before the missions, some sixty years ago, the Mangaians were the fiercest cannibals in the group, and determinedly28 hostile to strangers: nor were they ever as pleasure-loving as the other Cook Islanders. To-day they are harder in character than the folk of the other islands; kindly29 to strangers, but hardly gushing30 in their reception of them, and so much more industrious than the Aitutakians or Raratongans that Mangaian men are sought as servants all over the group.
There is, therefore, no difficulty in understanding how the people of Mangaia found energy and time to construct the staircases that span the great wall of “Makatea,” enclosing the inner part of the island. Being obliged day after day to climb with infinite pains the sharp rocky heights of the cliff, in order to get from the fishing grounds to the plantations32, they would certainly not be long in devising some means of lessening33 this inconvenience. The staircases which are the result must have taken many years and much labour in constructing, and it is difficult to understand how a people unacquainted with the use of any mechanical contrivance could have placed so many large blocks of stone in the positions which they occupy. The steps are very high and irregular, and on an extremely torrid afternoon it is not exactly the walk one would choose for pure enjoyment34. However, our time in Mangaia was short, so I explained to a native girl that I wanted to see the Makatea, and she at once called up half the village to join the procession.
Attended, therefore, by my young guide and the inevitable35 following, I went up the mighty36 stairs, and across the tract37 of level land lying at the top. It is nearly a mile before one comes upon the cup-like valley in the centre of the island, so it must be allowed that the rim38 of the cup is a thick one. After a pleasant walk through groves39 of cocoanut and guava, we came upon the inner side of the wall, and stood on the edge of a great grey circular cliff, spiked40, spired41, and towered with extraordinary eccentricity42, and splendidly garlanded with falling masses of sea-green creeper. At one point, a huge split in the rock had evidently provided a foundation for the second staircase, which was rougher than the first, made of great blocks of stone irregularly laid here and there so as to fill up the split in part, and give a foothold to the climber. Still, it was a big piece of work, and must have taken a good many years—generations, perhaps—to complete. Down in the valley below, which seemed to be two or three miles across, were all the native plantations and gardens, and as we jumped down from block to block, we met hard-faced muscular women toiling43 upwards with heavy loads of vegetables and fruit. In the taro fields, terraced so as to let a little stream trickle44 through and create an artificial swamp, the workers seemed to be women only. They dug and scraped in the thick mud under the burning sun, leaving off their tasks long enough to stare and question a little, and then setting stolidly45 to work again. The men were probably out fishing or pigeon shooting. In spite of Christianity, the island woman always carries the heavy end of the load, where there is one to carry; the man is the hunter, the woman the labourer and beast of burden, as in the cannibal times of long ago.
There are some remarkable46 caves in the island, and I went into them for a mile or so, in company with the local missionary47, who kindly offered to act as guide.
Caves, however—as most people will allow—are much alike in all parts of the earth, and there is nothing to differentiate48 the long, dark, dripping passages, half-glimpsed halls, gloomy crevasses49, and dimly sparkling stalactite candelabra of a South Sea Island cave, from those of a cave near Brighton or the Land’s End. There is no need, therefore, to describe the caves of Mangaia further than to say that they were quite up to the usual pattern, and that at all events, they gave a touch of “Swiss Family Robinson” to the island atmosphere that was pleasing to the imagination.
It had, of course, nothing to do with Mangaia, but I wondered as we walked back from the caves towards the top of Makatea, how it was that the interesting shipwrecked people who live in caves as described in fiction, never seem to be troubled with damp? I have, personally, never seen a cave—out of a book—that was not first cousin to a showerbath, and I should be surprised if any One else had. Who ever saw a genuine cave roof that was not covered with stalactites, large or small? and what makes stalactites but endless drip? If I were a shipwrecked person, I should certainly prefer the temporary house the “useful” character always puts up in half an hour with the aid of four growing trees and the ship’s mainsail, to the cave that is invariably discovered in the second chapter. I should know for certain that the former was the driest—even when it rained.
I cannot leave the subject of the strange Makatea, without telling yet a little more about it, for it has not often been described or mentioned. Geologists say that it is the product of a double volcanic upheaval50. The first convulsion threw up the island itself, and, in the course of ages, the usual encircling reef of coral was built up round it by the busy coral insects, working under the water. Then came a second upheaval, and the island and reef together were cast up two hundred feet. The Makatea is thus the ancient reef that once surrounded the original small island which is represented by a crown of heights in the middle of the cup of the crater51, and by the sunk-down valley about it. The narrow strip of land that edges the beach to-day is a later formation.
One cannot mistake the character of the great coral cliff, which is quite unlike any kind of stone, or indeed anything but itself. The passing ages have turned it to rock, but to rock which is hollowed in every direction with caves, small and great, and filled with fossil shells as a pudding is filled with plums. No unprotected foot can tread the surface of these heights, which are simply a mass of serried52 grey spears, sharp and cruel as the top of a wall protected by broken glass. The natives, if convenience leads them to cross any part of the Makatea other than the staircases, usually protect their feet with thick sandals of woven coir fastened on with cords. One can imagine how much this peculiar53 protection must have added to the safety of the interior of the island, in the old predatory days.
The caves were often used for burying places in time gone by, and it is only a few years since a “find” of skulls54 of a type differing in several particulars from those of the present day, was made in one of the largest caves by a schooner55 captain. Rumour56 says that he sold them for a good price, but the purchasers were not known.
Another use of the coral caves in the old days (over fifty years ago) was a shelter for fugitives57 of various kinds. The Mangaians were not a pleasant people, in those times, either to strangers or each other. The outsider was cooked and eaten for the mere offence of presuming to exist. The Mangaian was never sure that some one who had a spite against him would not murder him—probably by poison, in the use of which these people were as expert as the Borgias themselves. Under these circumstances, the caves were never without their occupants, living in secret, and creeping out at night to pick up a little food. Many and romantic are the stories told by the missionaries58 and traders of these stirring times, if I had space to relate them.
Mangaia is a beautiful island, but that goes without saying, in the exquisite59 Cook Group. It has about half a dozen white people, and the native population is said to number something under two thousand.
Though a pleasant island and a healthy one, it cannot be recommended to planters, as there is not an inch of land available for rent. The natives themselves are keen traders and bargainers, and export much of their fruit and copra direct to Auckland. Most of what they make is spent in trade-finery, for which they have an uncontrollable passion. On Sundays, the churches are a very flower-garden of frippery, the men turning out in the most brilliant of shirts, ties, and suits, the women decking themselves in long loose robes of muslin, sateen, or cheap silk, coloured in the most screaming hues—pea-green, royal blue, scarlet60, and orange being all strong favourites. Their hats, made by themselves out of silky arrowroot fibre, are often trimmed with the costliest61 ribbons and artificial flowers, and even with ostrich62 plumes63 to the value of two or three pounds. It is somewhat puzzling, I was told, to see several entire families got up in the same extraordinary style, unless you know the reason, which is, that these various households have joined together in a club, putting all the money they have made into one purse, and sending it down to Auckland on their own account for a bale of gorgeous clothing, all alike. Thus you will see twenty or thirty women, on a Sunday morning, dressed alike in robes of vermilion satinette, and wearing huge hats, crowned by three ostrich feathers, red, yellow, and blue, arranged after the fashion of the Prince of Wales’s crest.
This is one of the clubs, and there are sure to be others that vie with them in startling attire64. Such are the weaknesses—after all, venial65 ones indeed—of the sturdy-souled Mangaian.
Atiu was our next stop, and here the reef-jumping process had to be repeated in another form. The ship’s whale-boat, steered66 by our captain, who was the cleverest hand at the big sixteen-foot steer-oar of any white man I have ever seen, approached the edge of the reef, and danced about in front of it, until the passengers found an opportunity of leaping out on to it. Then, rather wetfooted (but no one minded that, in a temperature like the hot room of a Turkish bath) we were picked up by natives waiting on the shallow side, and carried through the lagoon, which was not more than a foot or two deep.
On landing, we found a number of the men standing31 on the shore ready to receive the Commissioner67. They had been fishing, and were clad simply and coolly in a rag and a feather apiece—the latter worn in the hair, over one ear. Their dress, however, did not seem to embarrass them at all, and they came forward and shook hands with every one,’ quite politely. All the Cook islanders are supposed to be Christianised and civilised, but in some parts of the group the civilisation68, at all events, seems to be wearing very thin, and this is notably69 the case in Atiu, an island rather larger than Raratonga, which has no resident missionary, save a very conceited70 and upsetting young native teacher. The Atiuans were of old a wilder and fiercer race than even the Mangaians, and such determined cannibals that they used to make raids on the surrounding islands for the simple purpose of filling their cooking ovens, and enjoying a mighty feast. Great war canoes, laden71 with gory72 corpses73, have many a time been’ drawn74 up on the very stretch of sand where we landed, and the grandfathers of the men who greeted us have sung and danced in fierce exultation75 to see the fat limbs and well-fed bodies of their enemies laid in ghastly heaps upon the snowy beach, ready for the cooking pits that since early morning had been glowing with flame in anticipation76 of the banquet.
“Meek-faced Atiuans” was the nickname bestowed77 upon these islanders, in derision, by those who knew their wiliness and treachery. There is not much that is meekfaced about them to-day. They certainly look rougher and less amiable78 than any others of the Cook Islanders, and they are by no means so amiable and easy-going as the Raratongans, Aitutakians, and people of Mitiaro and Mauke. However, it cannot be said that they are in any way dangerous, and the stray white people who have lived in the island (there was only one at the time of my visit) have always got on well with them. Rough, as I said before, they certainly are. A ring I wore on my hand attracted the attention of one or two of the men, and they crowded round, fingered it, and actually tried to snatch—an attempt very shortly put an end to by the Commissioner, who ordered them off peremptorily79. The incident, although small, illustrates80 a standard of manners that one would certainly not encounter in any other part of the group, or indeed in any one of the Southern or Eastern Pacific groups that I afterwards saw.
There was a good deal of native-manufactured lime-juice to be got away here, and the people (most of them more completely dressed than the party that had received us on the shore) were busy rolling down the casks into the water, where the out-going tide took them, and floated them across the reef to the schooner. It seemed a strange way of taking on cargo81, but I learned, afterwards, that it is not uncommon82 in islands surrounded by a dangerous reef.
The walk up to the settlement proved to be a good three miles, Atiu being one of the very few islands whose natives do not live down on the shore. The scenery was fine—wide rich plains covered with low scrub, or clothed with thick herbage, alternating with heavy forest. There is no better soil in the islands than that of Atiu. Guavas are a common weed; pumpkins83 run wild, trailing their long green vines and heavy fruit right across the track, mangoes, chestnuts84, Pacific cherries, and othér fruits, grow without care or cultivation85. Any tropical product can be raised, and land is exceedingly cheap. The reef has always been a handicap to the island; but I heard that a part had been blown up to admit of a boat passage, some time after my visit, also that the union steamers had begun to call for cargoes—an important event in the history of any island, and one likely to do much for its future.
The people are few in number—only nine hundred—and do not attempt to use more than a very small portion of the thirty-two square miles of their territory. Much is available for letting, and every inch of the island is worth cultivating, although to a stranger’s eye it is hardly as fertile in appearance as other portions of the Cook Group that are much less valuable. Coffee, copra, oranges, bananas, sweet potatoes, could be profitably grown for export. The climate is good and healthy.
The people have not dwindled86 down to their present small numbers through natural decay. Like another more famous island, Atiu is “swarming with absentees.” In the Society Islands, and here and there in other groups, whole villages full of Atiuans are to-day to be seen, who emigrated from their native country twenty or thirty years ago, owing to difficulties with the missionaries, and went to seek an asylum87 in lands where strings88 were drawn somewhat less tightly than they were at home. They never returned, though the island, when I saw it, had no resident white missionary at all, and in consequence their lands have lain idle ever since. The ill wind has blown good to planters and settlers, however, so one need not quarrel with it.
Like Mangaia, Atiu has a cave—only a much larger one, and it has a mystery connected with the cave, which no one has yet attempted to solve.
Sixty years ago or more (I was told—I do not swear to the truth of this or any other island story that I have not had the opportunity of investigating in person), an invading tribe came to Atiu, and in the course of several battles, defeated and put to rout89 one of the lesser90 tribes of the island. The vanquished91 ones, fearing that they would be killed and eaten, plucked up courage to try a desperate expedient92, and hid themselves in the cave, into whose dark recesses93 no native had ever before ventured, for fear of offending the evil spirits that were said to live therein. After waiting for a day or two, the enemies gave up the contest, and went away again. It was now safe for the hunted tribe to come forth94, and the other inhabitants of the island looked to see them return—for after all, it did not seem likely that the evil spirits would destroy so many. They waited in vain. From the unknown depths of the cave—unknown, in its innermost recesses, to the present day—no sign, no message reached them; no living soul ever came forth of the many men, women, and children who had braved the dangers of that dark portal. Lost they were, lost they remained.
What happened to them? No one knows. It is not easy to destroy a whole tribe, and leave no sign. But the one white man who partly explored the cave some years ago, found nothing to hint at the nature of the tragedy. It is true that his candles gave out, and the cord that served him for a guide back among the endless windings95 of the place came to an end, so that he never knew quite how far the place went, or how many ramifications96 it had. Still, it is strange enough that not so much as a single human bone was to be seen. If the tribe had lost their way, and perished of hunger, some traces would certainly have been visible—a spear, a shell ornament97, perhaps a skeleton. If they had fallen in a body over some treacherous98 inner precipice99, the dangerous place would have been discoverable. Perhaps some new explorer will unravel100 the mystery, one of these days. It will not be a steamer passenger, however, for the union boats on their rare calls do not stay long enough for any one to land, and the cave requires two clear days to reach and see.
As we were not even stopping overnight ourselves, I had no opportunity of making an exploration on my own account. Thus the mystery rests unsolved—unless some one may have come to the island in a stray trading schooner since my visit, and found time enough to explore the unknown parts of the haunted cavern101. The natives of Atiu, needless to say, put down the whole thing simply and solely102 to the revenge of the “local demons103.”
The people of the settlement, when we reached it, greeted our party with boisterous104 cheerfulness. The officials went to hold their court, as usual, and I, being as usual quite uninterested in the details of native boundary disputes conducted in an unknown tongue, amused myself with the women of the village. It might be more correct to say that they amused themselves with me. I do not think any white woman had been up to the settlement before I visited it, and the curiosity of the girls was uncontrollable. They crowded round me, they slyly felt my hair to see if the coils were attached to my head in Nature’s own way (by which I conclude that the wearing of false hair is not unknown to themselves), they rubbed my dress material in their fingers, they poked105 me all over to see if I was real, and conducted such searching investigations106 into the quantity and style of my clothing, that I was obliged to speak to one or two as sharply as I knew how (the tongue was alien, but the tone was understood) and make them desist. Withal, they were not ill-natured, though certainly a little ill-mannered. They did not forget the duties of hospitality, but pressed fruit and cocoanut water on me, and one woman insisted on giving me a bottle full of honey to take away—a gift that was much appreciated by my fellow-passengers on the schooner, later on.
I gratified them extremely by loosening the hair of one or two, and putting it up in the latest fashionable style, which proved so popular that the whole feminine half of the island set to hair-dressing at once, and before I left the island that day, a general and complete revolution in coiffure had taken place. We had a good deal of feminine talk among ourselves, before the men came out again: the fact that I did not know anything of the language, save perhaps half a dozen words, was no bar to a certain amount of thought-interchange. How was it done? Signs, for the most part: scraps107, guesses, hints, stray native words made to do double and treble duty. Could I have talked to the husbands and brothers of the women in the same way? No, certainly not. All through my wanderings among the uncivilised folk of the island world, I was constantly interested and amused to see how quick the women were in the language of signs and makeshifts, how very uncomprehending the men. If I wanted to make a request of any kind, on an island where I did not know any of the language, I instinctively108 sought for a woman to interpret my signs for a boat, a guide, a trader’s or missionary’s house, and so forth; and found that the women understood, almost as surely as the men, under the same circumstances, did not. Psychologists may make what they like of the fact. Women, who have talked the “sign-language” to each other, many and many a time, over the innocent thick heads of their unsuspecting better-halves, friends, or brothers, will never doubt it. We are not as clever as men—let the equality brigade shriek109 if they like, “it’s as true as turnips110 is, as true as taxes”—but neither are we as stupid. God forbid!
I had practically the whole day to put in somehow, so, after the delights of hair-dressing had palled111, and the afternoon was passing on, I accepted the invitation of a cheerful, though rather rough-looking pair of girls, whom I found crushing limes for lime juice in a very primitive112 sort of hand press, and followed them in to dinner in one of the native houses.
There was a distinguished113 guest to be entertained—a woman of Atiu who had been away from the island with her husband for many months, and had now returned in the Duchess, quite civilised and chic114 and modern, with the up-to-dateness of far-away Auckland. This celebrity115, regarded as a very Isabella Bird among the island women, scarce any of whom had ever seen the other side of their own reef, was seated on the mats when I entered, her legs folded under her, native fashion; not without evident discomfort116, for the heels of very high-heeled, pointed117 boots are painful under such circumstances, and corsets laced to bursting point are absolutely deadly. Ritia’s dark face was ominously118 empurpled, and perspiration119 due as much to agony as to the heat (which was undeniable) streamed over her forehead and down, her nose, from under the brim of her incredible picture hat. But pride upheld her, for who among the other women of the island owned such magnificent clothes?
The people of the house received me with exultation. Now, the feast was indeed a gorgeous one, and the sea-green envy sure to be the lot of every housewife in settlement with whom I had not dined, shed additional lustre120 on the triumph. The food was just coming in as I entered and folded myself up on the mats—roast sucking-pig, smelling very good; a fat boiled fowl121; some fish from the lagoon, baked like the pig in a ground oven, and done to a turn; arrowroot jelly; young green cocoanuts, with the meat still unset, clinging to the thin shell like transparent122 blanc-mange; breadfruit, smoking and floury; baked pumpkins; bananas, roasted in their skins; sweet potatoes; chestnuts. A large cocoanut, picked at the right stage for drinking, stood at each guest’s right hand, and in the middle was a big bowl of milky123 cocoanut cream, into which each guest was supposed to dip his food as he ate.
Plates there were none, but I have never thought clean, fresh, green leaves, a foot or two across, unpleasant substitutes for delf or china, which is handled and used by hundreds of eaters, and must be washed in greasy124 hot water at the end of every meal. There is a good deal to be said for the native custom, whether the point of view be that of convenience, cleanliness, or simple beauty.
I, as the principal guest, was offered everything first, which obviated125 any unpleasantness that might have arisen from the entire absence of knives and forks. There is no hardship in eating with your fingers, if yours are the first to plunge126 into every dish, and you have your nice fresh leaf to yourself. The little pig I did not touch, because no one who has lived as much as a week in the islands will venture on native pork, good as it looks and smells. When an unfortunate beast is killed by strangulation, and never bled, and when you know that it has lived at its gipsy will, and fed more abominably127 than a land-crab, you are apt to find you are “not hungry” when its crackling little carcase comes to table in cerements of green leaves, and you ask for the breadfruit and the fish instead.
The feast seemed likely to go on all afternoon, since no native thinks he has eaten enough, on such an occasion, until he is as gorged128 and as comatose129 as a stuffed anaconda. There is no obligation to stay longer than one likes, however, so I washed my hands and withdrew, as soon as it seemed good to me to do so.
And by the way, if we of the civilised countries think that we invented fingerbowls, either in form, or in use, we are mistaken. The South Seas invented them, a few hundred years before we found out they were necessary to our own delicate refinement130. A bowl full of water is handed round to every diner in a South Sea house. The water is from the river, pure and fresh; the bowl is of a mould more perfect than the most exquisite models of ancient Greece, delicately hued131 with pale brown in the inner part, and deep sienna brown outside. It is half a cocoanut shell—beautiful, useful, practically unbreakable, yet not of sufficient worth to prevent its being thrown away to-morrow and replaced by a fresh one from the nearest palm. Fresh plates and cups for one’s food are a refinement that our refined civilisation has not attained132 to yet. You must go to savages133 to look for them.
I thanked my hosts for their entertainment, in good English, when I left. They understood the words and tone almost as clearly as if I had spoken in their own language, and gave me a ringing salutation that followed me down the road. That a number of Atiuan men, coming up from the shore, burst out laughing when they saw me, and held on to each other in convulsions of merriment at the sight of my absurd white face and ridiculous clothes, did not detract from the real kindliness134 of the reception the island had given me. The manners of the Atiuan would certainly throw a Tahitian or a courtly Samoan into a fit; but for all that, he is not at bottom a bad sort, and could certainly be made something of with training.
One of the Arikas of Atiu—a woman again: there seemed to be very few male chiefs in the islands—was pointed out to me as I went down to the shore, and I photographed her sitting in her chair. She looked dignified135, and her long descent was visible in the pose of her small head, and the delicacy136 of her hands, but she did not possess much claim to beauty.
The Duchess was standing off and on outside the reef when I came out on the beach again, and the barrels were merrily floating out, rolled down into the water by the hands of bu§y brown men and women. It was a pretty scene in the low yellow sunlight of the waning137 afternoon,’ and I carried it away with me, long after we had sailed; as a pleasant recollection of Atiu.
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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poises
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| 使平衡( poise的第三人称单数 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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14
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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15
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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16
geologists
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| 地质学家，地质学者( geologist的名词复数 ) | |
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17
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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20
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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21
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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22
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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23
incurably
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| ad.治不好地 | |
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24
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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25
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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26
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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27
prodigally
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| adv.浪费地，丰饶地 | |
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28
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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29
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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30
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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31
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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32
plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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33
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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34
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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35
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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36
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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37
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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38
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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39
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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40
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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41
spired
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| v.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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43
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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44
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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45
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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46
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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47
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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48
differentiate
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| vi.(between)区分；vt.区别；使不同 | |
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49
crevasses
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| n.破口，崩溃处，裂缝( crevasse的名词复数 ) | |
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50
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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51
crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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52
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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53
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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54
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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55
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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56
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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57
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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58
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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59
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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60
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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61
costliest
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| adj.昂贵的( costly的最高级 )；代价高的；引起困难的；造成损失的 | |
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62
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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63
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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64
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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65
venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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66
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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67
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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68
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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69
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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70
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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71
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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72
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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73
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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74
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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75
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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76
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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77
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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79
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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80
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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81
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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82
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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83
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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84
chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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85
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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86
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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88
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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89
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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90
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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91
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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92
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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93
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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94
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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95
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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96
ramifications
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| n.结果，后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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97
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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98
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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99
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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100
unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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101
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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102
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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103
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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104
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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105
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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106
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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107
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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108
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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109
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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110
turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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111
palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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113
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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114
chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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115
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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116
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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117
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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118
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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119
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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120
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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121
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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122
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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123
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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124
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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125
obviated
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| v.避免，消除（贫困、不方便等）( obviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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127
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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128
gorged
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 )；作呕 | |
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129
comatose
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| adj.昏睡的，昏迷不醒的 | |
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130
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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131
hued
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| 有某种色调的 | |
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132
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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133
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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134
kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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135
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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136
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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137
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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