I was worried and oppressed by a sort of heaviness of spirits. I had acted a cheerful part at dinner, but there was little of my heart in the tongue I wagged. The recollection of the motionless figure seated upon the wreck, and darker yet, the memory of that bloated, long-haired phantom8 face sliding in the space of a breath across the gape9 in the shattered deck, with the sobbing10 wash of the black water on which it floated to put a dreadful meaning of its own into the livid, nimble vision went for something—nay, went for a good deal, no doubt; but it was the hail that had come from the wreck[148] which mainly occasioned my perplexity and agitation11, and, I may add, my depression. Twice now had syllables13 sounding from where there were no lips to pronounce them reached my ears. Had I alone heard them I should have been alarmed for my reason, not doubting an hallucination, though never for an instant believing in the reality of the utterance14; but the voices had been audible to others, they were consequently real, and for that reason oppressive to reflect upon. The shadow of Wilfrid’s craziness lay on his ship; the voyage was begun in darkness, and was an aimless excursion, as I thought, with no more reasonable motive15 for it than such as was to be found in the contending passions of a bleeding heart. Hence it was inevitable16 that any gloomy incident which occurred during such an adventure as this should gather in the eye of the imagination a very much darker tincture than the complexion17 it would carry under sunnier and more commonplace conditions of an ocean run.
Whilst I lay over the rail lost in thought, I was accosted18 by Finn.
‘Beg pardon, Mr. Monson; couldn’t make sure in this here gloom whether it was you or Sir Wilfrid. May I speak a word with ’ee, sir?’
‘Certainly, Finn.’
‘Well now, sir, if that there old Jacob Crimp ain’t gone and took on so joyful19 a frame of mind that I’m a land-crab if his sperrits ain’t downright alarming in a man whose weins runs lime-juice!’
‘Old Crimp!’ cried I, ‘what’s the matter with him?’
‘Why, he comes up to me and says, “Capt’n,” he says, “there’s Joe Cutbill, Jemmy Smithers, that funeral chap Muffin, and the t’others who was in the boat that went to the wreck this afternoon, all a-swearing that they heard a voice in the air!” and so saying, he bursts out a laughing like a parrot. “A woice!” says he. “So me and Mr. Monson aren’t the only ones, d’ye see. Damme,” says he, “if it don’t do my heart good to think on’t. There’s the whole bloomin’ boiling of us now,” says he, “to laugh at, capt’n; not Jacob Crimp only,” and here he bursts into another laugh.’
‘What does the old chap want to convey?’ said I.
‘Why, sir, joyfulness21 as that he no longer stands alone as having heard a woice, for though to be sure you was with him that night, and some sound like to a cuss rose up off yon quarter, he feels like being alone in the hearing of it, for, ye see, a man in his position can’t comfortably hitch23 on to a gent like you, and it was the harder for him, for that the man at the wheel swore that he never heard the cry.’
‘He is superstitious24, like most old lobscousers, no doubt,’ said I. ‘Have the others been talking about this mysterious hail from the wreck?’
‘Ay, sir; ’tis a pity. It’s raised an uneasiness ’mongst the men. There’s that Irish fool O’Connor, him that foundered25 the “Dago,”[149] going about with his face as long as a wet hammock and swearing that ’taint lucky.’
‘I don’t know about it’s being unlucky,’ said I, ‘but it certainly is most confoundedly curious, Captain Finn.’
I saw him peering hard at me in the dusk. ‘But surely your honour’s not going to tell me there was a woice?’ said he.
‘As we were shoving off,’ said I, ‘We were hailed in God’s name to return. Every man of us in the boat heard it. There were but two bodies in the wreck, as stone dead as if they had died before the days of the flood. What say you to that, Captain Finn?’
He pulled off his hat to scratch his head. After a pause he exclaimed slowly, ‘Well, I’m for leaving alone what isn’t to be understood. There was ghosts maybe afore I was born, but none since; and the dead h’aint talked, to my knowledge, since New Testament26 times. Old Jamaicy rum isn’t to be had by dropping a bucket over the side, and if a truth lies too deep to be fished up by creeps, better drop it, says I, and fix the attention on something else.’
‘You tell me the men are uneasy?’
‘Ay, sir.’
‘Do you mean all hands?’
‘Well, your honour knows what sailors are. When they’re housed together under one deck they’re like a box of them patent lucifer lights—if one catches, the whole mass is aflame.’
‘It’s a passing fit of superstition,’ said I. ‘Give it time. Best say nothing about it to Sir Wilfrid.’
‘Bless us, no, sir. Sorry it’s raised so much satisfaction in that there old Jacob, though. A laugh in Jacob don’t sound natural. Any sort o’ joyfulness in such a constitution is agin nature.’
At this point Miss Jennings arrived on deck, and Finn, with a shadowy fist mowing27 at his brow, stepped to the opposite rail, where his figure was easily distinguished28 by the stars he blotted29 out.
‘I hope your spirits are better,’ said Miss Laura.
‘I should be glad to turn the silent sailor of that wreck out of my memory; but my spirits are very well.’
‘Wilfrid noticed your depression at table, but he attributed it entirely30 to the dreadful sight you witnessed on the wreck.’ She passed her hand through my arm with a soft impulse that started me into a walk, but there was so much real unconsciousness in her way of doing this—a childlike intimation of her wish to walk without proposing it, and so breaking the flow of our speech at the moment—that for some little while I was scarce sensible that I held her arm, and that I was pacing with her. ‘But I think there is more the matter with you, Mr. Monson,’ she continued, with her face glimmering32 like pearl in the dusk, as she looked up at me, ‘than meets the ear—I will not say the eye.’
‘The fact is, Miss Jennings,’ said I abruptly33, ‘I am bothered.’
‘By what?’
‘Well, what think you of the suspicion which grows in me that this yacht carries along with her, in the atmosphere that enfolds[150] her, some sort of Ariel, whose mission it is to bewilder out of its invisibility the sober senses of men of plain, practical judgment34, like your humble35 servant?’
‘You want to frighten me by pretending that you are falling a little crazy.’
‘No!’
‘Or are you creating an excuse to return home.’
‘No again. How can I return home?’
‘Why, by the first convenient ship we happen to sight and speak. Is this some stratagem36 to prepare Wilfrid’s mind for your bidding us farewell when the chance happens?’
She spoke37 with a subdued38 note and a tremble of fretfulness in it.
‘Suffer me to justify39 myself,’ said I, and with that I led her to the captain, who stood with folded arms leaning against the rail near the main rigging. ‘Finn!’ He dropped his hands and stood bold upright. ‘Be so good as to tell Miss Jennings what the men are talking about forward.’
‘You mean the woice, sir?’
‘What the men are talking about,’ said I.
‘Well, miss,’ said Finn, ‘as the boat that Mr. Monson had charge of this afternoon was a-leaving the wreck, the men heard themselves hailed by a woice that begged ’em, in God’s name, not to leave the party as called behind. Mr. Monson, sir, you heard it likewise.’
‘I did,’ I answered.
‘Another mystery,’ exclaimed Miss Laura, ‘quite as dismal40 and astonishing as Muffin’s phosphoric warning.’
‘Thanks, Finn; that’s all I wanted to ask you,’ said I, and we left him to resume our walk.
‘Tell me about this voice,’ said the girl.
I did so, putting plenty of colour into the picture, too, for I wanted her to sympathise with my superstitious mood, whilst up to now there was nothing but incredulity and a kind of coquettish pique41 in her voice and manner.
‘And you are afraid of this voice, Mr. Monson? I wonder at you!’
‘You should have my full consent to wonder,’ said I, ‘if it were the first time; but there was the other night, you know, with solid, sour, uncompromising old Crimp to hear me witness, and now again to-day, with a boatful of men for evidence.’
‘Really, Mr. Monson, what do you want to make yourself believe?’ she asked, with a tone like a half-laugh in her speech; ‘the dead cannot speak.’
‘So ’tis said,’ I grumbled42, sucking hard at my cigar to kindle44 it afresh.
‘Human syllables cannot be delivered save by human lips. What, then, could have spoken out of the darkness of the sea the other night?’
[151]
‘Does not Milton tell of airy tongues that syllable12 men’s names?’ said I gloomily.
‘Mr. Monson, I repeat that I wonder at you. How can you suffer your imagination to be cheated by some trick of the senses?’ she laughed. ‘Pray, be careful. You may influence me. Then what a morbid45 company shall we make? I am sure you would like me to believe in this mysterious voice of yours. But, happily, we Colonials are too young, as a people, to be superstitious. We must wait for our ruined castles, and our moated granges, and our long, echoing, tapestry46-lined corridors. Then, like you English, we may tremble when we hear a mysterious voice.’
She started violently as she said this, giving my arm so smart a pull that it instantly brought me to a halt, whilst in a voice of genuine alarm she exclaimed, ‘Good gracious! what is that?’
Her face was turned up towards the weather yardarm of the square topsail, where, apparently47 floating a little above the studdingsail-boom iron, like to a flame in the act of running down the smoke of an extinguished candle ere firing the wick, shone a pendulous48 bubble of greenish fire, but of a luminosity sufficiently49 powerful to distinctly reveal the extremity50 of the black spar pointing finger-like into the darkness ahead, whilst a large space of the curve of the topgallant-sail above showed in the lustre51 with something of the glassy, delicate greenness you observe in a midsummer leaf in moonshine. The darkness, with its burden of stars, seemed to press to the yacht the deeper for that mystic light, and much that had been distinguishable outlines before melted out upon the sight.
‘What is it?’ exclaimed Miss Jennings in a voice of consternation52, and I felt her hand tighten53 upon my arm with her fears thrilling through the involuntary pressure.
‘Figure an echoing corridor hung with aged54 tapestry stirring to cold draughts55 which seem to come like blasts from a graveyard56, a noise as of the distant clanking of chains, and then the apparition57 of a man in armour58, holding up such a lantern as that yonder, approaching you who are spell-bound and cannot move for horror.’ I burst out laughing.
‘What is that light, Mr. Monson?’ she cried petulantly59.
‘Why, Miss Jennings,’ I answered, ‘’tis a saint, not a light; a reverend old chap called St. Elmo who transforms himself at pleasure into a species of snapdragon for the encouragement of poor Jack60.’
‘See that corposant, sir?’ rumbled43 Finn out of the darkness.
‘Very well, indeed,’ I answered. ‘Finn has explained,’ I continued; ‘that light is what sailors call a corpusant—sometimes compreesant. If we were Catholics of the Columbian period we should tumble down upon our knees and favour it with a litany or oblige it with a hymn61; but being bleak-minded Protestants all that we can do is to wonder how the deuce it happens to be burning on such a night as this, for I have seen scores of these corposants in[152] my time, but always either in dead calms or in gales62 of wind. But there it is, Miss Jennings, an atmospheric64 exhalation as commonplace as lightning, harmless as the glow-worm, though in its way one of the most poetic65 of old ocean’s hundred suggestions; for how easy to imagine some giant figure holding that mystic lamp, whose irradiation blends the vast spirit shape with the gloom and blinds the sight to it, though by watching with a little loving coaxing66 of fancy one should be able after a bit to catch a glimpse of a pair of large sorrowful eyes or the outline of some wan20 giant face.’
‘It is gone,’ she exclaimed with a shudder67.
‘Hush!’ I exclaimed, ‘we may hear the rustling68 of pinions69 by listening.’
‘Mr. Monson, you are ungenerous,’ she cried with an hysterical70 laugh.
Suddenly the light glanced and then flamed at the foretopmast head, where it threw out, though very palely, the form of the lookout71 man on the topgallantyard, whose posture72 showed him to be crouching73 with his arm over his eyes.
‘I dare say that poor devil up there,’ I exclaimed, ‘fully believes the fire-bubble to be a man’s ghost.’
‘It is a startling thing to see,’ exclaimed Miss Jennings.
‘But Colonials are too young as a people to be superstitious,’ said I. ‘It is only we of the old country, you know, with our moated granges——’
‘What is the hour, Mr. Monson?’
‘I say, Charles, are you on deck?’ shouted Wilfrid from the companion hatch.
‘Ay; here I am with Miss Jennings. What’s the time, Wilfrid, d’ye know?’
As I spoke two silver chimes, and then a third, came floating and ringing from the forecastle—three bells, half-past nine.
‘See that corposant?’ bawled74 Wilfrid. And he came groping up to us. ‘An omen31, by George!’ he cried with an odd hilarious75 note in his voice. ‘Laura, mark me, that flame isn’t shining for nothing. ’Tis a signal light fired by fortune to advise us of some great event at hand.’
‘Quarterdeck there!’ came down the voice of the lookout man, falling from sail to sail, as it seemed, in an echo that made the mysterious flame a wild thing to the imagination for a moment by its coming direct from it.
‘Hallo?’ roared Finn.
‘Can I lay down till this here blasted light’s burnt out? ’Tain’t right to be all alone with it up here.’
‘It is burnt out,’ cried Finn, in a way which showed he sympathised with the fellow. In fact, as the sailor called, the light vanished, and, though we stood looking awhile waiting for its reappearance, we saw no more of it.
That ocean corpse76 candle had shone at the right moment. Likely enough I should have made myself a bit merry over my[153] tender and beautiful companion’s fears in revenge for her pouting77, pettish78 wonderment at the uneasiness which the mysterious voices had raised in me. But Wilfrid remained with us for the rest of the evening, and, as I was anxious that he should know nothing about the strange sound, I forbore all raillery. It was midnight when we went to bed. Our talk had been very sober, indeed somewhat philosophical79 in its way, with references to electrical phenomena80. Wilfrid chatted with excitement, which he increased by two or three fuming81 glasses of seltzer and spirits. He told us a wild story of a ship that he was on board of somewhere down off the New Zealand coast, ploughing through an ocean of fire on a pitch-black night with a gale63 of wind blowing and a school of whales keeping pace with the rushing fabric82, spouting83 vast feather-like fountains of burning water as they stormed through it. He talked like a man reciting a dream or delivering an imagination, and there was a passion in his speech due to excitement and old Cognac, along with a glow in his large peering eyes and a play of flushed features that persuaded me of a very defined mood of craziness passing over his mind. His fancy seemed to riot in the roaring, fiery84 scene he figured; the ship, plunging85 into hollows, which flashed about her bows like volcanic86 vomitings of flame, the heavens above black as soot87, the ocean waving like sheet lightning to its confines, and the huge body of the whales crushing the towering surges as they rolled headlong through them into a moonlike brilliance88, flinging on high their delicate emerald-green sparkling spouts89 of water, which floated comet-like over them against the midnight of the heavens.
On eight-bells striking we went to bed. All was quiet on deck; a pleasant breeze blowing under the hovering90 prisms and crystals of the firmament91, the yacht leaning over in a pale shadow in the dusk and seething92 pleasantly along with a noise rising up from round about her like the rippling93 of a flag in a summer breeze. I fell asleep and slept soundly, and when I awoke it was to the beating of somebody’s knuckles94 upon my cabin-door. The day had broken, and my first glance going to the scuttle95, I spied through the thick glass of it a windy sunrise with smoky crimson96 flakes97 and a tint98 of tarnished99 pink upon the atmosphere.
‘Hallo! Hallo there! Who’s that knocking?’
‘’Tis me, sir, Capt’n Finn. Can I have a word with your honour?’ exclaimed the skipper, who had subdued his voice to a note that was alarming with its suggestion of physical effort.
‘Come in, Finn. What is it now?’
The handle was turned, and the captain entered cap in hand. He closed the door carefully, and instantly said, ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but baste100 me for an old duckling, Mr. Monson, if I don’t believe the “Shark” to be in sight.’
‘What?’ I shouted, sitting bolt upright and flinging my legs over the edge of the bunk101.
He glanced at the door, looking an intimation to me to make[154] no noise. ‘I thought I’d consult with ’ee first, sir, before reporting to Sir Wilfrid.’
‘Is she in sight from the deck?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Have you seen her?’
‘Ay, Mr. Monson, I’m just off the t’gallant-yard, where I’ve been inspecting her ever since she was first reported, and that’ll be drawing on for five and twenty minutes.’
‘But she is hull102 down?’
‘Yes, sir, and still a schooner103-yacht at that,’ said he emphatically. ‘Mind, I don’t say she is the “Shark.” All I want to report is a schooner with a yacht’s canvas—not American cotton. No, sir, canvas like ourn, nothen square forrards, and sailing well she looks.’
‘How heading?’
‘Why to the south’ard and west’ard as we are. I’m in your hands, sir. It’ll be a fearful excitement for Sir Wilfrid and a terrible blow if it’s another vessel104.’
‘Oh, but you have to give him the news, happen what will! Wait, however, till I have had a look, will you? I shall be with you in a minute or two.’
He left the berth105, and in red-hot haste with a heart beating with excitement I plunged106 into my clothes and ran on deck, passing softly, however, through the cabin; for, though I know not why it should be, yet I have observed that at sea there is something almost electrical in a time full of startling significance like this, an influence that, act as softly and be as hushed as you may, will yet arouse sleeping people and bring them about you in a dreaming way, wondering what on earth has happened. Pale and windy as the sunrise was, there was dazzle enough in the soaring luminary to stagger my sight on my first emergence107. I stepped clear of the companion and stood whilst I fetched a few breaths gazing round me. The sea was a dull, freckled108 blue with a struggling swell109 underrunning it athwart the course of the wind as though the coming breeze was to be sought northwards. The horizon astern was gloomy and vague in the shadow of a long bank of clouds, a heap of sullen110 terraces of vapour rising from flint to saffron and then to a faint wet rose where the ragged111 sky-line of the compacted body caught the eastern colour. All was clear water, turn where the gaze would. On the topgallant-yard the fellow on the look-out lay over the spar with a telescope at his eye; his figure, as it swung through the misty112 radiance against the pale blue of the morning sky that south-east looked to be kindling113 into whiteness, was motionless with the intentness of his stare. If what the tubes were revealing to him was the ‘Shark,’ then, as he had been the first to sight her, that glittering heavy five-guinea piece nailed to the mainmast was his. It was as much the thought of this reward going from them as curiosity that had sent the watch on deck aloft too to have a look. The last of them was coming down[155] hand over hand as I went forward. Discipline was forgotten in the excitement of such a moment as this, and swabs and squiligees had been flung down without a word of rebuke114 from Cutbill, whose business it was to superintend the washing of the decks.
I sprang into the foreshrouds, and was presently alongside the lookout fellow. ‘Give me hold of that glass,’ said I. To the naked eye up here the sail hung transparently115 visible upon the edge of the sea, a point of lustrous116 white like the head of a marble obelisk117 lustrous with the silver of sunrise. But the telescope made a deal more of that dash of light than this. I threw a leg over the yard, steadied the glass against the mast, and instantly witnessed the white canvas of what seemed unquestionably a large schooner-yacht risen to her rail upon the horizon where the thin black length of her swam like an eel22 with the fluctuations118 of the refractive atmosphere; but all above was the steady brilliant whiteness of the cloths of the pleasure ship mounting from boom to gaff; a wide and handsome spread with a flight of triangular119 canvas hovering between jibboom and topmast, as though a flock of seafowl were winging past just there.
‘Do you know the “Shark”?’ said I to the man.
‘I’ve seen her once or twice at Southampton, sir.’
‘Is that she, think you?’
‘Ay, sartin as that there water’s salt.’
‘Well, there’ll be good pickings for you on the mainmast,’ said I, handing him back the glass.
His face seemed to wither120 up between his whiskers to the incredible wrinkles of the smile which shrunk it to the aspect of an old dried apple. I got into the rigging and descended121 to the deck. The sailors stared hard at me as I went out. I suppose they imagined that I was well acquainted with the ‘Shark,’ and they eyed my countenance122 with a solicitude123 that was almost humorous. Finn stood near the main rigging perspiring124 with impatience125 and anxiety, fanning his long face with his cap and sending glances in the direction of the sea, where presently those two alabaster-like spires126 now hidden would be visible.
‘Is it the “Shark,” think ’ee, sir?’ he cried in a breathless way.
‘My good Finn, how the dickens should I know? I know no more of the “Shark” than of Noah’s Ark. But, seeing that the vessel we want is a schooner of some two hundred tons, of a fore2 and aft rig, bound our way, and a yacht to boot, then, if yonder little ship be not the chap we are in search of, this meeting with her will be an atrociously strange coincidence.’
‘Just what I think, sir,’ he cried, still breathless.
‘Do you mean to shift your helm for her?’
‘She was abeam127 when first sighted, sir. I have brought her on the bow since then, as ye can see. But I’ll head straight if ye should think proper,’ he exclaimed with a look aloft and around.
[156]
‘Oh, by all means go slap for her, captain!’ said I. ‘That you know will be my cousin’s first order.’
‘Trim sail, the watch!’ he bawled out.
The helm was put over and the yacht’s head fell off till you saw by the line of the flashing glass through which the fellow aloft continued to peer that the hidden sail had been brought about two points on the lee bow. All was now bustle128 on deck with trimming canvas, setting studdingsails, and the like. The dawn had found us close hauled with the topgallantsail lifting and every sheet flat aft, and now we were carrying the wind abaft129 the beam with a subdued stormy heave of the yacht over the sulky swell. Indeed, Finn should have made sail to the first shift of helm; but the poor fellow seemed to have lost his head till he had talked with me, scarce knowing how to settle his mind as to the right course to be instantly adopted in the face of that unexpected apparition which was showing like a snow-flake from aloft. For my part, I thought, I could not better employ the leisure that yet remained than by preparing for what was to come by a cold brine bath. So down I went, telling Finn that I would rout130 out Sir Wilfrid as I passed through the cabin and give him the news.
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1
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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luminary
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| n.名人，天体 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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5
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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6
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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gape
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| v.张口，打呵欠，目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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joyfulness
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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33
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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34
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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35
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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36
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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37
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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38
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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39
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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40
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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41
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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42
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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43
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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44
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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45
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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46
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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47
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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48
pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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49
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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50
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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51
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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52
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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53
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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54
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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55
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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56
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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57
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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58
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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59
petulantly
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60
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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61
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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62
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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63
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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atmospheric
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| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
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65
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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66
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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67
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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68
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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69
pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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70
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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71
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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72
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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73
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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74
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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75
hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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76
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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77
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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78
pettish
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| adj.易怒的，使性子的 | |
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79
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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80
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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81
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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82
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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83
spouting
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| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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84
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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85
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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86
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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87
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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88
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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89
spouts
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| n.管口( spout的名词复数 )；（喷出的）水柱；（容器的）嘴；在困难中v.（指液体）喷出( spout的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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90
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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91
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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92
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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93
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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94
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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95
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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96
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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97
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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98
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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99
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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100
baste
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| v.殴打，公开责骂 | |
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101
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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102
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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103
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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104
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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105
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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106
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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107
emergence
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| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
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108
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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110
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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111
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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112
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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113
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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114
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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115
transparently
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| 明亮地，显然地，易觉察地 | |
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116
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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117
obelisk
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| n.方尖塔 | |
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118
fluctuations
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| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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119
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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120
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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121
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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122
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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123
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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124
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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125
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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126
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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127
abeam
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| adj.正横着(的) | |
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128
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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129
abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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130
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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