A DAY or two after leaving Malden we sighted Penrhyn, lying five degrees further south, but for some unexplained reason a very much hotter place than Malden. Penrhyn is an island that is famous all over the South Sea world, and not unknown even in Europe. Its pearl-shell and pearls, its strange, wild, semi-amphibious natives, and its melancholy2 leper station, make it a marked spot upon the Pacific map; and a certain rather fictitious3 value attaching to its stamps has made the name of the island familiar to all stamp collectors at home. The general impression conveyed to the voyager from kinder and fairer islands is that Penrhyn is a place “at the back of God-speed,” a lonely, sultry, windy, eerie4 spot, desolate5 and remote beyond description.
It is an atoll island, consisting merely of a strip of land some couple of hundred yards in width, enclosing a splendid lagoon7 nine miles long. The land is white coral gravel8; nothing grows on it but cocoanut and pandanus and a few insignificant9 creepers. Fruit, vegetables, flowers, there are none. The natives live entirely10 on cocoanut and fish. They are nominally11 Christianised, but the veneer12 of Christianity is wearing uncommonly13 thin in places. They are reckless and daring to a degree, notable even among Pacific Islanders. Any Penrhyn man will attack a shark single-handed in its own element, and kill it with the big knife he usually carries. They are, beyond comparison, the finest swimmers in the world; it is almost impossible to drown a Penrhyn Islander. He will swim all day as easily as he will walk. You may often meet him out fishing, miles from shore, without a boat, pushing in front of him a small plank15 that carries his bait, lines, and catch. Some of the fish he most fancies seldom come to the surface. To catch these he baits his line, dives, and swims about underneath16 the water for a minute or two at a time, trailing the bait after him, and rising to the surface as often as a fish takes it.
Of his pearl-diving exploits I shall speak later. The deadly surf that breaks upon the outer reef has no terrors for him. Among the small boys of the island there is a favourite feat17 known as “crossing a hundred waves,” which consists in diving through ninety-nine great rollers, just as they are about to break, and rushing triumphantly18 to shore on the back of the hundredth. The old warlike, quarrelsome character of the islanders—no doubt originally due to scarcity19 of food—still lurks20 concealed21 under an outward show of civility. Penrhyn was the only South Pacific Island I have visited where I did not care to walk alone in the bush without my little American revolver. The four or five white traders all keep firearms ready to hand in their stores. There has been no actual trouble of recent years, but there are narrow escapes from a free fight every now and then, and every man must hold himself ready for emergencies. It is only eight years since there was such an outbreak of hostilities22 in Penrhyn that a man-of-war had to be sent up to protect the traders.
I was kindly23 offered the use of a house during the week the Duchess spent in Penrhyn lagoon repairing sails and rigging, and generally refitting after the stormy weather that we had experienced on several occasions. But Penrhyn is rotten with undeclared leprosy, the water is not above suspicion, and flies abound24 in myriads25. So I slept on the ship, and by day wandered about the desolate, thin, sun-smitten woods of the island, or flew over the green lagoon in one of the marvellously speedy pearling sloops27 of the traders. These boats are about a couple of tons each, with a boom as big, in proportion, as a grasshopper’s leg. They are as manageable as a motor car, and faster than most yachts. It is a wonderful sight to see them taking cargo29 out to the schooners31, speeding like gulls32 over the water, and turning round in their tracks to fly back again as easily as any gull33 might do. Pearling was almost “off” at the time of the Duchess’s visit, since a good part of the lagoon was tabooed to allow the beds to recover.
The pearls are rather a minor34 consideration at Penrhyn. The shell is of beautiful quality, large and thick, with the much-valued golden edge; but pearls are not plentiful35 in it, and they are generally of moderate size. Some very fine ones have been found, however; and gems36 of ordinary value can always be picked up fairly cheaply from the divers38. The Penrhyn lagoon is the property of the natives themselves, who sell the shell and the pearls to white traders. Christmas Island and some other Pacific pearling grounds are privately39 owned, and in these places there is a great deal of poaching done by the divers. The great buyers of pearls are the schooner30 captains. There are three or four schooners that call at Penrhyn now and then for cargo; and every captain has a nose for pearls like that of a trained hound for truffles. In the Paumotus, about Penrhyn, Christmas Island, and the Scillies (the Pacific Scillies, not those that are so familiarly known to English readers), they flit from island to island, following up the vagrant40 rumours41 of a fine pearl with infinite tact42 and patience, until they run it to ground at last, and (perhaps) clear a year’s income in a day by a lucky deal. San Francisco and Sydney are always ready to buy, and the typical Pacific captain, if he is just a bit of a buccaneer, is also a very keen man of business in the most modern sense of the word, and not at all likely to be cheated. Three native divers, famous for their deepwater feats43, came out in a pearling sloop28 with us one afternoon, and gave a fine exhibition.
The bed over which we halted was about ninety feet under the surface. Our three divers stripped to a “pareo” apiece, and then, squatting44 down on the gunwale of the boat with their hands hanging over their knees, appeared to meditate45. They were “taking their wind,” the white steersman informed me. After about five minutes of perfect stillness they suddenly got up and dived off the thwart46. The rest of us fidgeted up and down the tiny deck, talked, speculated, and passed away the time for what seemed an extraordinarily47 long period. No one, unfortunately, had brought a watch; but the traders and schooner captains all agree in saying that the Penrhyn diver can stay under water for full three minutes; and it was quite evident that our men were showing off for the benefit of that almost unknown bird, the “wahiné papa.” At last, one after another, the dark heads popped up again, and the divers, each carrying a shell or two, swam back to the boat, got on board, and presented their catch to me with the easy grace and high-bred courtesy that are the birthright of all Pacific islanders—not at all embarrassed by the fact that all the clothes they wore would hardly have sufficed to make a Sunday suit for an equal number of pigeons.
As a general rule, the divers carry baskets, and fill them before coming up. Each man opens his own catch at once, and hunts through the shell for pearls. Usually he does not find any; now and then he gets a small grey pearl, 01 a decent white one, or a big irregular “baroque” pearl of the “new art” variety, and once in a month of Sundays he is rewarded by a large gleaming gem37 worth several hundred pounds, for which he will probably get only twenty or thirty.
Diving dresses are sometimes used in Penrhyn; but in such an irregular and risky48 manner that they are really more dangerous than the ordinary method. The suit is nothing but a helmet and jumper. No boots are worn, no clothing whatever on the legs, and there are no weights to preserve the diver’s balance. It sometimes happens—though wonderfully seldom—that the diver trips, falls, and turns upside down, the heavy helmet keeping him head-downwards until the air all rushes out under the jumper, and he is miserably49 suffocated50. The air pump above is often carelessly worked in any case, and there is no recognised system of signals, except the jerk that means “Pull up.”
“They’re the most reckless devils on the face of the earth,” said a local trader. “Once let a man strike a good bed of shell, and he won’t leave go of it, not for Father Peter. He’ll stick down there all day, grabbin’ away in twenty fathom51 or more till he feels paralysis52 cornin’ on——”
“Paralysis?”
“Yes—they gets it, lots of’em. If you was to go down in twenty fathom—they can do five and twenty, but anything over is touch and go—and stay ’alf the day, you’d come up ’owling like anything, and not able to move. That’s the way it catches them; and then they must get some one to come and rub them with sea water all night long, and maybe they dies, and maybe they’re all right by morning. So then down they goes again, just the same as ever. Sometimes a man’ll be pulled up dead at the end of a day. How does that happen? Well, I allow it’s because he’s been workin’ at a big depth all day, and feels all right; and then, do you see, he’ll find somethin’ a bit extra below of him, in a holler like, and down he’ll go after it; and the extra fathom or two does the trick.
“Sharks? Well, I’ve seen you poppin’ at them from the deck of the Duchess, so you know as well as I do how many there are. Didn’t ’it them, even when the fin14 was up? That’s because you ’aven’t greased your bullet, I suppose. You want to, if the water isn’t to turn it aside. But about the divers? Oh! they don’t mind sharks, none of them, when they’ve got the dress on. Sharks is easy scared. You’ve only got to pull up your jumper a bit, and the air bubbles out and frightens them to fits. If you meet a big sting-ray, it’ll run its spine53 into you, and send the dress all to—I mean, spoil the dress, so’s the water comes in, and maybe it’ll stick the diver too. And the big devilfish is nasty; he’ll ’old you down to a rock but you can use your knife on him. The kara mauaa is the worst; the divers don’t like him. He’s not as big as a shark, but he’s downright wicked, and he’s a mouth on him as big as ’alf his body. If one comes along, he’ll bite an arm or leg off the man anyways, and eat ’im outright54 if he’s big enough to do it. Swordfish? Well, they don’t often come into the lagoon; it’s the fishing canoes outside they’ll go for. Yes, they’ll run a canoe and a man through at a blow easy enough: but they don’t often do it. If you wants a canoe, I’ll get you one; and you needn’t mind about the swordfish. As like as not they’ll never come near you.
“About the divin’?—well, I think the naked divin’ is very near as safe as the machine, takin’ all things. Worst of it is, if a kara mauaa comes along, the diver can’t wait his time till it goes. No, he doesn’t stab it—not inside the lagoon, because there’s too many of them there, and the blood would bring a whole pack about. He gets under a ledge55 of rock, and ’opes it’ll go away before his wind gives out. If he doesn’t, he gets eat.”
Did Schiller, or Edgar Allan Poe ever conjure56 up a picture more ghastly than that of a Penrhyn diver, caught like a rat in a trap by some huge, man-eating shark, or fierce kara mauaa—crouching57 in a cleft58 of the overhanging coral, under the dark green gloom of a hundred feet of water, with bursting lungs and cracking eyeballs, while the threatening bulk of his terrible enemy looms59 dark and steady, full in the road to life and air? A minute or more has been spent in the downward journey; another minute has passed in the agonised wait under the rock. Has he been seen? Will the creature move away now, while there is still time to return? The diver knows to a second how much time has passed; the third minute is on its way; but one goes up quicker than one comes down, and there is still hope. Two minutes and a half; it is barely possible now, but——— The sentinel of death glides60 forward; his cruel eyes, phosphorescent in the gloom, look right into the cleft where the wretched creature is crouching, with almost twenty seconds of life still left, but now not a shred61 of hope. A few more beats of the labouring pulse, a gasp62 from the tortured lungs, a sudden rush of silvery air bubbles, and the brown limbs collapse63 down out of the cleft like wreaths of seaweed. The shark has his own.
There is a “Molokai,” or Leper Island, some two miles out in the lagoon, where natives afflicted64 with leprosy are confined. The Resident Agent—one of the traders—broke the rigid65 quarantine of the Molokai one day so far as to let me land upon the island, although he did not allow me to approach nearer than ten or twelve yards to the lepers, or to leave the beach and go inland to the houses that were visible in the distance. Our boatmen ran the sloop close inshore, and carried the captain and myself through the shallow water, carefully setting us down on dry stones, but remaining in the sea themselves. A little dog that had come with the party sprang overboard, and began swimming to the shore. It was hurriedly seized by the scruff of its neck, and flung back into the boat. If it had set paw on the beach it could never have returned, but would have had to stay on the island for good.
Very lovely is the Molokai of Penrhyn; sadly beautiful this spot where so many wretched creatures have passed away from death in life to life in death. As we landed, the low golden rays of the afternoon sun were slanting66 through the pillared palm stems and quaintly67 beautiful pandanus fronds70, across the snowy beach, and its trailing gold-flowered vines. The water of the lagoon, coloured like the gems in the gates of the Heavenly City, lapped softly on the shore; the perpetual trade wind poured through the swaying trees, shaking silvery gleams from the lacquered crests71 of the palms. In the distance, shadowed by a heavy pandanus grove72, stood a few low brown huts. From the direction of these there came, hurrying down to the beach as we landed, four figures—three men and a woman. They had put on their best clothes when they saw the sloop making for the island. The woman wore a gaudy73 scarlet74 cotton frock; two of the men had white shirts and sailor’s trousers of blue dungaree—relics of a happier day, these, telling their own melancholy tale of bygone years of freedom on the wide Pacific. The third man wore a shirt and scarlet “pareo,” or kilt. Every face was lit up with delight at the sight of strangers from the schooner; above all, at the marvellous view of the wonderful “wahiné papa.” Why, even the men who lived free and happy on Penrhyn mainland did not get the chance of seeing such a show once in a lifetime! There she was, with two arms, and two legs, and a head, and a funny gown fastened in about the middle, and the most remarkable75 yellow shoes, and a ring, and a watch, which showed her to be extraordinarily wealthy, and a pale smooth face, not at all like a man’s, and hair that was brown, not black—how odd! It was evidently as good as a theatre, to the lonely prisoners!
Bright as all the faces of the lepers were at that exciting moment, one could not mistake the traces left by a more habitual76 expression of heavy sadness. The terrible disease, too, had set its well-known marks upon every countenance77. None of those who came out to see us had lost any feature; but all the faces had the gross, thickened, unhuman look that leprosy stamps upon its victims. The woman kept her arm up over her head, to hide some sad disfigurement about her neck. One of the men walked slowly and painfully, through an affection of the hip26 and leg. There were nine lepers in all upon the island; but the other five either could not, or did not, wish to leave their huts, and the agent refused to break the quarantine any further than he had already done. What care the wretched creatures are able to give one another, therefore, what their homes are like, and how their lives are passed, I cannot tell. Three of the lepers were accompanied by their faithful dogs. They are all fond of pets, and must have either a dog or a cat. Of course the animals never leave the island. We exchanged a few remarks at the top of our voices, left a case of oranges (brought up from the Cook Islands, a thousand miles away), and returned to our boat. The case of oranges was eagerly seized upon, and conveyed into the bush.
“They will eat them up at once,” I said.
“Not they,” said one of our white men. “They’ll make them into orange beer to-night, and get jolly well drunk for once in their miserable78 lives. Glad to see the poor devils get a chance, say I.” And so—most immorally80, no doubt—said the “wahiné papa” as well.
The lepers are fed from stores furnished by a small Government fund; and the trader who fulfils the very light duties of Resident Government Agent generally sends them over a share of any little luxury, in the way of oranges, limes, or yams, that may reach the island. None the less, their condition is most miserable, and one cannot but regard it as a crying scandal upon the great missionary81 organisations of the Pacific that nothing whatever is done for the lepers of these northern groups. The noble example of the late Father Damien, of Hawaii, and of the Franciscan Sisters who still live upon the Hawaiian Molokai, courting a martyr’s death to serve the victims of this terrible disease, seems to find no imitators in the islands evangelised by British missionaries82. Godless, hopeless, and friendless, the lepers live and die alone. That their lives are immoral79 in the last degree, their religion, in spite of early teaching, almost a dead letter, is only to be expected. Penrhyn is not alone in this terrible scourge83. Rakahanga, Manahiki, and Palmerston—all in the same part of the Pacific—are seriously affected84 by the disease. Palmerston I did not see; but I heard that there is one whole family of lepers there, and some stray cases as well.
The island belongs to the half-caste descendants (about 150 in number) of Masters, a “beachcomber” of the early days, who died a few years ago. These people are much alarmed at the appearance of leprosy, and have segregated85 the lepers on an island in the lagoon. They are anxious to have them removed to the Molokai at Penrhyn, since the family came originally from that island; but no schooner will undertake to carry them. In Rakahanga, the lepers are not quarantined in any way, but wander about among the people. There are only a few cases as yet; but the number will certainly increase. This may also be said of Manahiki, for although very serious cases are isolated86 there, the lepers are allowed, in the earlier stages, to mix freely with every one else, and even to prepare the food of a whole family. The New Zealand Government, it is believed, will shortly pass a law compelling the removal of all these cases to the Molokai at Penrhyn. No Government, however, can alleviate87 the wretched condition of these unfortunate prisoners, once sent to the island. That remains88 for private charity and devotion.
A God-forsaken, God-forgotten-looking place is Penrhyn, all in all. When sunset falls upon the great desolate lagoon, and the tall cocoanuts of the island stand up jet black against the stormy yellow sky in one unbroken rampart of tossing spears, and the endless sweep of shadowy beach is empty of all human life, and clear of every sound save the long, monotonous89, never-ceasing cry of the trade wind in the trees, it needs but little imagination to fancy strange creatures creeping through the gloom of the forest—strange, ghastly stories of murder and despair whispering in the gathering90 night. Death in every form is always near to Penrhyn; death in the dark waters of the lagoon, death from the white terror of leprosy, and death at the hands of men but quarter civilised, whose fingers are always itching91 for the ready knife. And at the lonely sunset hour, when old memories of the life and light of great cities, of welcoming windows shining red and warm through grey, cold northern gloamings come back to the wanderer’s mind in vivid contrast, the very wings of the “Shadow cloaked from head to foot” seem to shake in full sight above these desolate shores. Yet, perhaps, the intolerable blaze of full noon upon the windward beaches strikes a note of even deeper loneliness and distance. The windward side of Penrhyn is uninhabited; the sea that breaks in blinding white foam92 upon the untrodden strand93, wreathed with trailing vines of vivid green, is never broken by a sail. The sun beats down through the palm and pandanus leaves so fiercely that the whole of the seaward bush is but a shadeless blaze of green fire. Nothing stirs, nothing cries; the earth is silent, the sea empty; and a barrier of thousands of long sea miles, steadily94 built up, day by day, through many weeks, and only to be passed again by the slow demolishing95, brick by brick, of the same great wall, lies between us and the world where people live. Here there is no life, only an endless dream; not as in the happy southern islands, a gentle sunrise dream of such surpassing sweetness that the sleeper96 asks nothing more than to dream on thus forever; but a dark-hour dream of loneliness, desolation, and utter remoteness, from which the dreamer cannot awaken97, even if he would. Why do men—white men, with some ability and some education—live in these faraway infertile98 islands? There is no answer to the problem, even from the men themselves. They came, they stayed, they do not go away—why? they do not know. That is all.
The land extent of Penrhyn is only three square miles, though the enclosed lagoon is a hundred. The population is little over four hundred souls; there are three or four white traders, as a rule. There is no resident white missionary. The island is one of those that have been annexed99 by New Zealand, and is therefore British property. It is governed by the Resident Commissioner100 of the Cook group, who visits it about once a year.
Until two or three years ago, the Penrhyn Islanders used to keep their dead in the houses, hanging up the corpse1, wrapped in matting, until it was completely decayed. This hideous101 practice was put an end to by the Representatives of British Government, much to the grief of the natives, who found it hard to part with the bodies of their friends, and leave them away in the graveyard102 they were bidden to choose. As the best substitute for the old practice, they now build little houses, some four feet high, over the tombs of their friends, and live in these houses for many months after a death, sitting and sleeping and even eating on the tomb that is covered by the thatch103 or iron roof of the grave-house. The graveyard is in consequence a strange and picturesque104 sight, almost like a village of some pigmy folk. A few plain concrete graves stand above the remains of white men who have died in the island, and one headstone is carved with the initials—not the name—of a woman. There is a story about that lonely grave; it was told to me as I lingered in the little “God’s Acre” at sunset, with the light falling low between the palms and the lonely evening wind beginning to wail105 from the sea.
The woman was the wife of a schooner captain, a man of good family and connections, who liked the wild roving life of the Pacific, yet managed to retain a number of acquaintances of his own class in Auckland and Tahiti. His wife was young and handsome, and had many friends of her own. On one of the schooner’s visits to Penrhyn, the man was taken suddenly ill, and died in a very short time, leaving his wife alone. It seems that at first she was bewildered by her loss, and stayed on in the island, not knowing what to do, but before many months she had solved the problem after a fashion that horrified106 all the whites—she married a Penrhyn native! good-looking and attractive, but three-quarters savage107, and left the island with him.
Several children were born to the pair, but they were given to the husband’s people. At last he took a native partner, and deserted108 his English wife. She left the islands, and went down to Auckland; but her story had travelled before her, and Auckland society closed its doors. To Tahiti, where morals are easy, and no one frowns upon the union, temporary or permanent, of the white man and the brown woman, she went, hoping to be received as in former days. But even Papeete, “the sink of the Pacific,” would have none of the white woman who had married a brown man. Northwards once more, to lonely Penrhyn, the broken-hearted woman went, wishing only to die, far from the eyes of her own world that had driven her out. A schooner captain, who called there now and then, cast eyes upon her—for she was still young and retained much of her beauty—and asked her, at last, if she would become his wife, and so redeem109 in some degree her position; but she had neither heart nor wish to live longer, so she sent the kindly sailor away, and soon afterwards closed her eyes for ever on the blue Pacific and the burning sands, the brown lover who had betrayed her, and the white lover who came too late. The traders buried her, and kindly left her grave without a name; only the initials of that which she had borne in her first marriage, and the date of her death. So, quiet and forgotten at last, lies in lonely Penrhyn the woman who sinned against her race and found no forgiveness.
It was a relief to leave Penrhyn, with all its gloomy associations, and see the schooner’s head set for the open sea and merry Manahiki. But we seemed to have brought ill-luck away with us, for there was what the captain called “mean weather” before we came within hail of land again, and the Duchess got some more knocking about.
It was on account of this that Neo, our native bo’sun, hit an innocent A.B. over the head with a belaying-pin one afternoon, and offered to perform the same service for any of the rest of the crew who might require it. The men had been singing mission hymns110 as they ran about the deck pulling and hauling—not exactly out of sheer piety111, but because some of the hymns, with good rousing choruses, made excellent chanties. They were hauling to the tune112 of “Pull for the shore, brothers!” when a squall hit the ship, and out of the fifteen agitated113 minutes that followed, the Duchess emerged minus her jib-boom. When things had quieted down, Neo started to work with the belaying-, pin, until he was stopped, when he offered, as a sufficient explanation, the following:
“Those men, they sing something made bad luck, I think, jib-boom he break. Suppose they sing, ‘Pull for ‘em shore’ some other time, I break their head, that I telling them!”
The next time a chanty was wanted, “Hold the Fort!” took the place of the obnoxious114 tune, and Neo’s lessons were not called for.
And so, in a day or two we came to Rakahanga and Manahiki (Reirson and Humphrey Islands), and stopped there for another day or two, before we spread our wings like the swallows, to fleet southward again.
It was certainly globe-trotting, not proper travelling. To flit from group to group, taking in cargo, and then hurrying off again, is the way not to understand the places one sees, and I was more than half inclined to leave the Duchess here, and stop over for a month or two on the chance of another schooner turning up. But the dinner that the solitary115 trader ate when he came on board made me change my mind. He looked like a man half-famished, and he certainly acted like one. There was hardly a thing on the island to eat at present, he said; the natives had only enough fish for themselves, and the turtle weren’t coming and his stores were almost out, and he had been living on biscuit and cocoanuts for weeks. There was leprosy in both islands, and one did not dare to touch native pork or fowl116. On the whole, I thought I would be contented117 to “globe-trot,” on this occasion, and see what I could in a day or two.
The islands are about twenty-five miles apart, and very much like one another. They each own an area of about two square miles, and a population of some four hundred natives. And there is nothing in the whole Pacific prettier.
Coming up to Manahiki, one sees first of all a snowy shore and a belt of green tossing palms, just like any other island. As the ship coasts along, however, making for the village, the palm-trees break and open out here and there, and through the break one sees—paradise! There is a great sheet of turquoise-green water inside, and on the water an archipelago of the most exquisite118 little plumy, palmy islets, each ringed round with its own pearly girdle of coral sand. Every gap in the trees frames in a picture more lovely than the last—and, as we approach the village, the dainty little brown island canoes that all the Pacific wanderers know so well, begin to dot the jewel-bright surface of the inner lake, and gleams of white and rose and scarlet dresses, worn by the rowers of the tiny craft, sparkle on the water like gems. At last the vessel119 comes to anchor before a wide white, sloping beach, with brown-roofed huts clustering behind, and we reached merry Manahiki.
The island has long enjoyed a reputation for peculiar120 innocence121 and simplicity122, coupled with piety of a marked description. Well, one does not care to destroy any one’s illusions, so the less said about Manahiki’s innocence and simplicity the better. The islanders are, at all events, a kindly and a cheerful people, and their home is the neatest and best kept island in the Pacific. A palm-bordered road of finest white sand, beautifully kept, and four miles long, runs without a bend or break from one end of the island to the other—this portion of the atoll forming a separate island, and containing most of the scanty123 population. The village stands about midway—a collection of quaint68 little houses deeply thatched with plaited pan-danus leaf, and walled with small, straight saplings set side by side and admitting a good deal of light and air. The houses are unwindowed as a rule. Rakahanga, the sister island, is extremely like Manahiki in formation and architecture. It, however, enjoys the additional advantage of a jail, which is built of crossed saplings, looks much like a huge bird-cage, and certainly could not confine any one who made the smallest attempt to get out. But, as criminals are unknown in these islands, and petty offences are visited by fine instead of imprisonment124, the jail is not expected to do real service, being merely a bit of “swagger,” like the white-washed stone houses possessed125 by one or two wealthy natives, who, Pacific fashion, never think of living in them.
Within, the ordinary houses are extremely simple. The floor of white coral gravel reflects and intensifies126 the soft diffused127 light that enters through the walls. There may be a native bedstead, laced across with, “sinnet”—plaited cocoanut fibre—and provided with a gay patchwork128 quilt, and a few large soft mats of pandanus leaf, ingeniously split, dried, and plaited. There will certainly be a pile of camphor-wood trunks, containing the clothes of the household; a dozen or so cocoanut shells, for drinking and eating purposes; a few sheath-knives, and a small quantity of much-cherished crockery. In a corner, you may find a heap of flying-fish ready cleaned for baking in the oven-pit outside, and a number of green, unhusked cocoanuts, for drinking. You may possibly see some ship’s biscuits, too, bought from the one white resident of the island, a trader and there will also be some lumps of white, soft pith, shaped like large buns—the “sponge” or kernel129 of the old cocoanut, which grows and fills up the shell after the water has dried away, and the nut commenced to sprout130. But there will be no bananas, no oranges, no mangoes, granadillas, pineapples, yam, taro131 or ti root, bread-fruit or maupei chestnuts132, as in the fertile volcanic133 islands. Manahiki is a coral island, pure and simple, and has no soil at all, nothing but sand and white gravel, out of which the cocoa-palm and a few small timber trees spring, in a manner that seems almost miraculous134 to those accustomed to the rich, fertile soil of Raratonga or Tahiti. Cocoanut and fish are the food of the Manahikian, varied135 by an occasional gorge136 of turtle-meat, and a feast of pig and fowl on very great occasions. There is, therefore, not much work to do in the island, and there are few distractions137 from the outside world, since trading schooners only call two or three times a year at best. Some copra-drying is done and a few toy canoes, baskets, and other curiosities are made, to find a precarious138 sale when a schooner comes in and the captain is inclined to speculate.
But time never hangs heavy on the Manahikian’s hands. He is the most accomplished139 dancer and singer in the whole South Pacific, and the island is inordinately140 vain of this distinction. All South Sea islanders sing constantly, but in Manahiki, the tunes141 are much sweeter and more definite than in most other islands; and the impromptu142 variations of the “seconds” are really wonderful. The voices, too, are exceptionally good. The women’s are rather hard and piercing, but those of the men are often magnificent. The time is as perfect as if beaten out by a metronome, and false notes are almost unknown.
Men and women alike seem incapable143 of fatigue144 when singing. The mere6 white man will feel tired and husky after going through the choruses of The Messiah or The Creation. A Manahikian, if he were acquainted with oratorio145 music, would run through both, and then “take on” Tannhauser, following up with another Wagnerian opera, and perhaps a cantata146 thrown in. By this time, it would be dusk, and the chorus would probably stop to eat a cartload of cocoanuts before beginning on the whole Nibelungen Ring cycle for the night. About midnight the Resident Agent, a clever half-caste, who has European ideas about the value of sleep, would probably send out the village policeman with a stick to induce the singers to go to bed; and, quite unfatigued, they would rise up from their cross-legged squatting posture147 on the ground, and go, remonstrant, but compelled.
Happily for the Resident Agent and the trader, however, European music is not known in Manahiki, and when a singing fit seizes the people, they can generally be stopped after about a day, unless somebody has composed something very new and very screaming. If the two ends of the village have begun one of their musical competitions, there may also be difficulty in bringing it to a period; for the rival choruses will sing against each other with cracking throats and swelling148 veins149, hour after hour, till both sides are completely exhausted150.
Dancing, however, is the Manahikian’s chief reason for existing. The Manahikian dances are infinitely151 superior to those of most other islands, which consist almost altogether of a wriggle152 belonging to the danse du ventre family, and a little waving of the arms. The Manahiki dance has the wriggle for its groundwork, but there are many steps and variations. Some of the steps are so rapid that the eye can hardly follow them, and a camera shutter153 which works up to 1/100 of a second does not give a sharp result. The men are ranged in a long row, with the women opposite; there is a good deal of wheeling and turning about in brisk military style, advancing, retreating, and spinning round. The men dance very much on the extreme tips of their toes (they are, of course, barefooted) and keep up this painful posture for an extraordinary length of time. Every muscle in the whole body seems to be worked in the “fancy” steps; and there is a remarkable effect of general dislocation, due to turning the knees and elbows violently out and in.
The women, like Miss Mercy Pecksniff, seem chiefly to favour the “shape and skip” style of locomotion154. There is a good deal of both these, a great deal of wriggle, and plenty of arm action, about their dancing. They manoeuvre155 their long, loose robes about, not at all ungracefully, and do some neat step-dancing, rather inferior, however, to that of the men.
Both men and women dress specially156 for the dance, so the festival that was organised to greet our arrivals took some time to get up, as all the beaux and belles157 of the village had to hurry home and dress. The women put on fresh cotton loose gowns, of brilliant pink, purple, yellow, white and green, oiled their hair with cocoanut oil scented158 with the fragrant159 white tieré flower, and hung long chains of red and yellow berries about their necks. About their waists they tied the dancing girdle, never worn except on these occasions, and made of twisted green ferns. The men took off their cool, easy everyday costume, of a short cotton kilt and gay coloured singlet, and attired160 themselves in shirts and heavy stuff trousers (bought from the trader at enormous expense, and considered the acme161 of smartness). Both sexes crowned themselves with the curious dancing headdress, which looks exactly like the long-rayed halo of a saint, and is made by splitting a palm frond69 down the middle, and fastening it in a half-circle about the back of the head.
The music then struck up and the dancers began to assemble. The band consisted of two youths, one of whom clicked a couple of sticks together, while the other beat a drum. This does not sound attractive; but as a matter of fact, the Manahiki castanet and drum music is curiously162 weird163 and thrilling, and arouses a desire for dancing even in the prosaic164 European. On board our schooner, lying half a mile from shore, the sound of the measured click and throb165 used to set every foot beating time on deck, while the native crew frankly166 dropped whatever they were at, and began to caper167 wildly. Close at hand, the music is even more impressive; no swinging waltz thundered out by a whole Hungarian band gets “into the feet” more effectively than the Manahiki drum.
A much-cherished possession is this drum. It is carved and ornamented168 with sinnet, and topped with a piece of bladder; it seems to have been hollowed out of a big log, with considerable labour. The skill of the drummers is really remarkable. No drumsticks are used, only fingers, yet the sound carries for miles. While drumming, the hands rise and fall so fast as to lose all outline to the eye; the drummer nods and beats with his foot in an ecstasy169 of delight at his own performance; the air is full of the throbbing170, rhythmical171, intensely savage notes. The dancers at first hesitate, begin and stop, and begin again, laugh and retreat and come forward undecidedly. By-and-by the dancing fervour seizes one or two; they commence to twirl and to stamp wildly, winnowing172 the air with their arms. Others join in, the two rows are completed, and Manahiki is fairly started for the day. Hour after hour they dance, streaming with perspiration173 in the burning sun, laughing and singing and skipping. The green fern girdles wither174 into shreds175 of crackling brown, the palm haloes droop176, the berry necklaces break and scatter177, but on they go. The children join in the dance now and then, but their small frames weary soon; the parents are indefatigable178.
Perhaps both ends of the settlement are dancing; if that is so, the competitive element is sure to come in sooner or later, for the feeling between the two is very like that between the collegers and oppidans at Eton, each despising the other heartily179, and ready on all occasions to find a cause for a fight. They will dance against each other now, striving with every muscle to twinkle the feet quicker, stand higher on the tips of the toes, wriggle more snakily, than their rivals. Evening comes, and they are still dancing. With the night, the dance degenerates180 into something very like an orgy, and before dawn, to avoid scandal, a powerful hint from the native pastor181 and the agent causes the ball to break up.
Do the dancers go to bed now, lie down on their piled up sleeping mats, and compose themselves to slumber182? By no means. Most of them get torches, and go out on the reef in the dark to spear fish. Cooking fires are lighted, and there is a hurried gorge in the houses; everywhere, in the breaking dawn, one hears the chuck-chuck of the husking-stick preparing cocoanuts, and smells the savoury odour of cooking fish. The dancers have not eaten for at least twenty-four hours, perhaps more. But this feast does not last long, for just as the sun begins to shoot long scarlet rays up through the palm trees, some one begins to beat the drum again. Immediately the whole village pours out into the open, and the dance is all on again, as energetic as ever. The trading schooner is three weeks over-due, and the copra on which the island income depends is not half dried; there is not a fancy basket or a pandanus hat ready for the trader; the washing of every house is hopelessly behind, and nobody has had a decent meal since the day before yesterday. No matter: the Manahikians are dancing, and it would take an earthquake to stop them.
Late in the second day, they will probably give out and take a night’s rest. But it is about even chances that they begin again the next morning. In any case, no day passes in Manahiki or Rakahanga without a dance in the evening. Regularly at sunset the drum begins to beat, the fern girdles are tied on (relics, these, of heathen days when girdles of grass or fern were all that the dancers wore), and palm haloes are twisted about the glossy183 black hair, and the island gives itself up to enjoyment184 for the evening.
There is a dancing-master in Manahiki, a most important potentate185, who does nothing whatever but invent new dances, and teach the youth of the village both the old dances and the new.
We stopped overnight at the island, so I had time for a good walk along the beautiful coral avenue, which is indeed one of the loveliest things in the island world. It was Sunday, and all the natives were worshipping in the exceedingly ugly and stuffy186 concrete church, under the guidance of the native pastor, so I had the place almost to myself. Far away from everywhere, sitting in a ruinous little hut under the trees by the inner lagoon, I found a lonely old man, crippled and unable to walk. He was waiting until the others came back from church, staring solemnly into the lagoon the while, and playing with a heap of cocoanut shells. By-and-by he would probably rouse up, drag himself into the hut, and busy himself getting ready the dinner for the family against their return home, for he was an industrious187 old man, and liked to make himself useful so far as he could, and his relatives were very glad of what small services he could render in washing and cooking.
What was the matter with the poor old man? He was a leper!
That is the way of the islands, and no white rule can altogether put a stop to it. The half-caste who acts as agent for the Government of New Zealand had hunted out a very bad case of leprosy a year or two before, and insisted on quarantining it in a lonely part of the bush. This was all very well, but the leper had a pet cock, which he wanted to take with him, and the agent’s heart was not hard enough to refuse. Now the leper, being fed without working, and having nothing to do, found the time hanging heavy on his hands, so he taught the cock to dance—report says, to dance the real Manahiki dances—and the fame of the wondrous188 bird spread all over the island, and as far as Rakahanga, so that the natives made continual parties to see the creature perform, and quarantine became a dead letter. Still the agent had not the heart to take the cock away, but when he saw the leper’s end was near, he watched, and as soon as he heard the man was dead, he hurried to the quarantined hut, set it on fire, and immediately slaughtered189 the cock. An hour later, half the island was out at the hut, looking for the bird—but they came too late.
We have been two days at merry Manahiki, and the cargo is in, and the Captain has ordered the Duchess—looking shockingly cock-nosed without her great jib-boom—to be put under sail again. As the booms begin to rattle190, and the sails to rise against the splendid rose and daffodil of the Pacific sunset, Shalli, our Cingalese steward191, leans sadly over the rail, listening to the thrilling beat of the drum that is just beginning to throb across the still waters of the lagoon, now that evening and its merrymaking are coming on once more.
“He plenty good place, that,” says Shalli mournfully. “All the time dancing, singing, eating, no working—he all same place as heaven. O my God, I plenty wish I stopping there, I no wanting any heaven then!”
With this pious192 aspiration193 in our ears, we spread our white wings once more—for the last time. Raratonga lies before us now, and from Raratonga the steamers go, and the mails and tourists come, and the doors of the great world open for us again. So, good-bye to the life of the schooner.
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1
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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3
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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4
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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5
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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10
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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11
nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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14
fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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15
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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16
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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18
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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19
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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20
lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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22
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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23
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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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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sloops
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| n.单桅纵帆船( sloop的名词复数 ) | |
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sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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32
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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34
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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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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45
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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48
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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49
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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50
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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52
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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53
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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54
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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56
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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57
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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58
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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59
looms
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| n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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60
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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61
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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64
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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67
quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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69
frond
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| n.棕榈类植物的叶子 | |
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70
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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71
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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72
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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73
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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74
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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75
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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76
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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77
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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78
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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79
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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80
immorally
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| adv.淫荡地；不正经地；不道德地；品行不良地 | |
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81
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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82
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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83
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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84
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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85
segregated
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| 分开的； 被隔离的 | |
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86
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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87
alleviate
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| v.减轻，缓和，缓解(痛苦等) | |
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88
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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89
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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90
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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91
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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92
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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93
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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94
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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95
demolishing
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| v.摧毁( demolish的现在分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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96
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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97
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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98
infertile
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| adj.不孕的；不肥沃的，贫瘠的 | |
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99
annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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100
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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101
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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102
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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103
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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104
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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105
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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106
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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107
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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108
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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109
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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110
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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111
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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112
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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113
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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114
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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115
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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116
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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117
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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118
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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119
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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120
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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121
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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122
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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123
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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124
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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125
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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126
intensifies
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| n.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的名词复数 )v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的第三人称单数 ) | |
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127
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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128
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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129
kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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130
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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131
taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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132
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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133
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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134
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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135
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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136
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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137
distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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138
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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139
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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140
inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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141
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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142
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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143
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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144
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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145
oratorio
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| n.神剧，宗教剧，清唱剧 | |
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146
cantata
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| n.清唱剧，大合唱 | |
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147
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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148
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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149
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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150
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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151
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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152
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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153
shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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154
locomotion
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| n.运动，移动 | |
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155
manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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156
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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157
belles
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| n.美女( belle的名词复数 )；最美的美女 | |
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158
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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159
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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160
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161
acme
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| n.顶点，极点 | |
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162
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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163
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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164
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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165
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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166
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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167
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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168
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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170
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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171
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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172
winnowing
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| v.扬( winnow的现在分词 )；辨别；选择；除去 | |
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173
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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174
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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175
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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176
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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177
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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178
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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179
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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180
degenerates
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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181
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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182
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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183
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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184
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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185
potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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186
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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187
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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188
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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189
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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191
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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192
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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193
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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