On the morning of April fourth, we took leave of the navigation company and, having purchased tickets on the afternoon steamer to Tuticorin, set out to bid farewell to our acquaintances in the city. The hour of sailing was close at hand when Haywood, the much-wanted, burst in upon us at Almeida’s.
“I hear,” he shouted, “that you fellows are off for India.”
We nodded.
“I’m going along,” he announced.
Naturally, we scowled7. But on what ground could we protest? One does not choose his fellow-passengers on an ocean voyage. Moreover, I owed the erstwhile resident of Sing Sing some consideration. For a week before, as we were leaving the favorite shop in Pettah, after a midnight lunch, a Singhalese, mad with hasheesh smoking, had sought a quarrel with us. Knowing the weakness of a native fist, I made no attempt to ward8 off a threatened blow. Before it fell, Haywood suddenly flung the screaming fellow into the gutter9, and only then did I note that the hand I had thought empty clutched a long, thin knife.
We held our peace, therefore, resolving to shake off our unwelcome companion at the first opportunity, and, marching down to the quarantine 290station, tumbled with a multitude of Indian coolies into a barge10 that soon set us on board the S. S. Kasara.
“You see,” said Haywood, two hours later, pointing away to Ceylon hovering11 on the evening horizon, “if I’d hung round that joint12 another week, I’d been pinched sure. I got to get out of British territory, and with no show to ship out of Colombo, the only chance was to make a break through India. If I’d come alone, I’d ’ave been spotted13. But with three of us I won’t be noticed half as quick.”
Suddenly a cabin door within reach of our hands opened, and into our midst stepped Bobby, in full uniform.
“What the devil!” I gasped14, “Thought your beat was between the clock tower and the Gardens?”
Over Haywood’s face had spread the hue15 of a shallow sea, and his lower jaw16 hung loose on its hinges.
“Aha! Bobs,” grinned Marten, “doin’ a skip act, eh? Well, I’m mum.”
“Skip bloody17 ’ell,” snorted Bobby, “I’m h’off to Madras to snake back a forger18 they’ve rounded up there.”
“Sure that’s all?” demanded my partner.
“Yep,” smiled Bobs.
Haywood drew a deep breath and rose to his feet.
“By God, Bobs,” he muttered, “do you want to give me heart-failure? Thought sure you was campin’ on my trail.”
“Naw,” answered the policeman, “none o’ the toffs in Colombo ayn’t seen them notices yet. But you’d best keep on the move.”
The rumor19 that there were three white men “on deck with the niggers” soon found its way to the cabin, and brought down upon us a visitation that poor Jack20 Tar21 must often suffer in the Orient. He was a missionary22 from Kansas, stationed in the hills of Mysore. Marten and I, refusing to admit his assertion that, as sailors, we were, ex officio, drunken, dissolute, ambitionless louts, were cruelly abandoned to future damnation. But Haywood, who had been wondering till then where he could “raise the dust for an eye-opener in the morning,” pleaded guilty to every charge and, in the course of a half-hour, was duly “converted.”
“Do you men know why you have no money; why you must travel on deck with natives?” demanded the missionary, in parting. “It’s because you’re not Christians23.”
We might have pointed24 out that the Lascars chattering25 about the deck drew a monthly wage because they were Hindus. But why prolong 291the argument? Haywood had already pocketed the two rupees that made our toleration worth while.
We landed with Bobby in the early morning and bade him farewell sooner than we had expected. For a native on the wharf26 handed him a telegram announcing that the forger was already en route for Colombo in charge of a Madras officer. Tuticorin was an uninspiring collection of mud huts and reeking27 bazaars28. Our halt there was brief. It would have been briefer had we not chanced to run across Askins. The erudite wanderer had stranded29 sooner than he had anticipated. I took pleasure in setting him afloat again, and caught the last glimpse of his familiar figure, beginning to bend a bit now under the weight of twenty years of “knocking about,” as the train bearing us northward30 rumbled31 through the village.
Even the beachcomber does not walk in India. To ride is cheaper. Third-class fare ranges from two-fifths to a half a cent a mile, and on every train is a compartment32 reserved for “Europeans and Eurasians only,” into which no native may enter on penalty of being frightened out of his addled33 wits by a bellowing34 official.
Descending35 at the first station to quench37 a tropical thirst, I was astonished to see Bobby peering out of a second-class window.
“I couldn’t read the bloody wire without me glasses,” he confided38, as I drew near, “an’ I don’t think I’ll be able to find ’em before this ’ere ticket’s run out. We don’t git h’off fer a run up to Madras every fortn’ght, an’ I ayn’t goin’ to miss this one.”
As I turned back to join my companions, the missionary from Kansas appeared at the door of the same compartment. Evidently he had thought better of his heartless decision to leave me to perdition, for he flung the door wide open.
“Come and ride with me to the next station,” he commanded; “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m third-class,” I answered.
“Never mind,” said the padre, “I know the guard.”
Having no other plausible39 excuse to offer, I complied, and endured a half-hour sermon. Through it all, Bobby sat stiffly erect40 in his corner, for to my amazement41 the minister did not once address him.
“How’s this?” I demanded, as we drew into the first station. The Kansan was choosing some tracts42 from his luggage in the next compartment. “Why don’t he try to convert you, being so good a subject?”
“’E did,” growled43 Bobby, “bloody ’ell, ’e did. But I shut ’im off. 292Told ’im I was one o’ the shinin’ lights o’ the Salvation44 Army in Colombo. Blawst me h’eyes, why can’t these padres sing their song to the niggers an’ let h’onest Englishmen alone! One of ’em gits to wind’ard o’ me every time I breaks h’out fer a little holidye.”
Armed with the tracts, I returned to my solicitous45 companions and settled down to view the passing landscape. It bore small resemblance to that of Ceylon. On either hand stretched treeless flat-lands, parched46 and brown as Sahara, a desert blazed at by an implacable sun and unwatered for months. A few native husbandmen, remnant of the workers in abundant season, toiled47 on in the face of frustrated48 hopes, scratching with worthless wooden plows49 the arid50 soil, that refused to give back the seed intrusted to it. There is no sadder, more forlorn, more hopeless of human creatures than this man of the masses in India. His clothing in childhood consists of a string around his belly51 and a charm-box on his left arm. Grown to man’s estate, he adds to this a narrow strip of cotton, tied to the string behind and hanging over it in front. Regularly, each morning, he draws forth52 a preparation of coloring matter and cow-dung—for the cow is a sacred animal—and daubs on his forehead the sign of his caste, but the strip of cotton he renews only when direst necessity demands. His home is a wretched mud hut, too low to stand in, where he burrows53 by night and squats54 on his heels by day. With the buoyant Singhalese he has little in common. Sad-faced ever, if he smiles there is no joy in the grimace56. Enchained and bound down by an inexorable system of caste, held in the bondage57 of an enforced habit of mind, habitually58 overcome with a sense of his own inferiority, he is disgusting in his groveling.
A hundred miles north of the seacoast, we halted to visit the famous Brahmin temple of Madura. Haywood’s interest in architecture was confined to such details as the strength and resistance of window bars, but he had developed a quaking fear of daytime solitude61 and would not be separated from us.
The temple served well as an introduction to the fantastic extravagance of Oriental building. Its massive outer walls inclosed a vast plot of ground. In the center, surrounded by a chaos62 of smaller edifices64, rose the inner temple, its cone-shaped roof and slender domes65 a great field of burnished66 gold before which the eye quailed67 in the cutting sunlight. Above all, the four gateways68 to the inclosure challenged attention. Identical in form, yet vastly different in minor70 detail, they towered twelve stories above the lowly huts and swarming71 293bazaars of the city that radiates from the sacred area. Four thousand statues of Hindu gods—to quote mathematical experts—adorned each gateway69, hideous-faced idols73, each pouring down from four pairs of hands his blessing74 on the groveling humans who starved beneath.
Within the gates, under vaulted75 archways, swarmed76 multitudes; pilgrims in the rags of contrition77, shopkeepers shrieking78 the virtues79 of their wares80 from their open booths, screaming vendors81 of trinkets, abject83 coolies cringing84 before their countrymen of higher caste, loungers seeking relief from the sunshine outside. A sunken-eyed youth wormed his way through the throng85 and offered us guidance at two annas. We accepted, and followed him down a branch passageway to the lead-colored pond in which unfastidious pilgrims washed away their sins; then out upon an open space for a nearer view of the golden roofs. High up within, whispered the youth, while Marten interpreted, dwelt a god; but we, as white men, dared not enter to verify the assertion.
We turned back instead to the quarters of the sacred elephants. Here seven of the jungle monsters, chained by a foot, thrashed about over their supper of hay in a roofless stable. They were as ready to accept a tuft of fodder86 from a heathen sahib as from the dust-clad faquir who had tramped many a burning mile to perform this holy act for the acquiring of merit. Children played in and out among the animals. The largest was amusing himself by setting the urchins87, one by one, on his back. But in the far corner stood another that even the clouted88 keepers shunned89. The most sacred of a holy troop, our guide assured us, for he was mad, and wreaked90 a furious vengeance91 on whomsoever came within reach of his writhing92 trunk. Yet—if the sunken-eyed youth spoke truly—it was no misfortune to have life crushed out by this holiest of animals. The coolie suffering that fate was reborn a farmer, the peasant a shopkeeper, the merchant a warrior93. Was it satisfaction with their station in life or a weakness of faith? We noted94 that even the despised sudras avoided the far corner.
“And how about a white man?” asked Haywood.
“A sahib,” said our guide, “when he dies, becomes a crow. Therefore are white men afraid to die.”
We turned out again into the bazaars. Naked girls, carrying baskets, were quarreling over the offal of passing beasts. The fa?ade of every hut was decorated with splashes of manure95, each bearing the imprint96 of a hand. For fuel is there none in this treeless land, save bois de vache.
294With nightfall, Haywood, promising97 to return quickly, set out to visit the missionaries98 of Madura, to each of whom the Kansan had given him a note. Before he rejoined us at the station he had succeeded in “raising the wind” to the sum of three full fares to the next city. Yet he sneered99 at our extravagance in purchasing tickets for a night ride, and, tucking away the “convert money” in the band of his tropical helmet, followed us out upon the platform. The train was crowded. A band of coolies, whom the station master, in the absence of white travelers, had thrust into the European compartment, tumbled out as rats scurry100 from a suddenly lighted room, and left us in full possession.
In India, as in Europe, tickets are not taken up on the train; they are punched at various stations en route by local officials, misnamed “collectors.” The collectors, however, are commonly Eurasian youths, deferential102 to white men and no match in wits for beachcombers.
Having turned out the light in the ceiling of our compartment, we stretched out on the two wooden benches and laid plans for the morrow. At each halt Marten kept look-out. If the collector carried no lantern, Haywood had merely to roll under a bench until he had passed. At a whisper of “bull’s-eye” our unticketed companion slipped through the opposite door, and watched the progress of the half-breed by peering under the train at his uniformed legs. Once he was taken red-handed. It was after midnight, and we had all three fallen asleep. Suddenly there came the rapping of a punch on the sill of the open window.
“Tickets, sahibs,” said an apologetic voice.
“Say, mate,” whispered Haywood, “I’m on the rocks. Can’t you slip me? Have a cigar.”
The Eurasian declined the proffered104 stogie with a startled shake of the head, punched our tickets, and passed on without a word. Haywood sat on tenter-hooks for several moments, but the engine screeched105 at last, and he lay down again, vowing107 to wake thereafter at every halt.
We arrived at Trinchinopoly in the small hours and stretched out on a station bench to sleep out the night undisturbed. The chief of Haywood’s difficulties, however, was still to be overcome, for the only exit from the platform was guarded by a Eurasian who was sure to call for tickets. It was Marten, given to sudden inspirations, who saved the day for the New Yorker. As we approached the gate, he ran forward and, to my astonishment108, attempted to force his way through it without producing his ticket.
A Hindu of Madras with caste-mark, of cow-dung and coloring-matter, on his forehead
295“Here! Ticket, please, sahib,” cried the Eurasian.
“Oh! Go to the devil!” growled Marten.
“Ticket! Where is your ticket? Stop!”
Marten pushed the collector aside and stepped out.
“Ah!” screeched the official, “I know! You haven’t any ticket. You stole your ride. Come back, or I’ll call a policeman.”
The man of inspiration sprang at the half-breed with a savage109 snarl110 and grasped him by the collar.
“What in hell do you mean by saying I haven’t any ticket? I’ll break your head.”
“But I know you haven’t,” persisted the collector, though somewhat meekly111.
“Do you think that sahibs travel without tickets?” roared Marten, drawing the bit of cardboard from his pocket. “Take your bloody ticket, but don’t ever tell a sahib again that he’s stealing his rides.”
The Eurasian stretched out a hand to me, mumbling112 an apology, but was so overcome with fear and the dread of accusing another innocent sahib that Haywood stepped out behind us unchallenged.
We were waylaid113 by a peregrinating barber, and took turns in squatting114 on our heels for a quick shave and a slap in the face with a damp cloth. The service cost two pice (one cent). The barber was, perhaps, twelve years old, but an American “tonsorialist” would have gasped at the dexterity115 with which he manipulated his razor, as he would have wondered at several long, slim instruments, not unlike hat pins, which he rolled up in his kit116 as he finished. These were tools rarely employed on sahibs, but no native would consider a shave complete until his ears had been cleaned with one of them.
The city of Trichinopoly was some miles distant from the station. Though we were agreed that such action was the height of extravagance, we hailed a bullock cart and offered four annas for the trip to the town. An anna, let it be understood once for all, is the equivalent of the English penny. The cart was the crudest of two-wheeled vehicles, so exactly balanced on its axle that the attempt of two of us to climb in behind came near suspending the tiny, raw-boned bullock in mid-air. A screech106 from the driver called our attention to the peril117 of his beast, and under his directions we succeeded in boarding the craft by approaching opposite ends and drawing ourselves up simultaneously118. 296The wagon119 was some four feet long and three wide, with an arched roof; too short to lie down in, too low to sit up in. One of us, in turn, crouched120 beside the driver on the knife-like edge of the head-board, with knees drawn121 up on a level with the eyes, clinging desperately122 to the projecting roof. The other two lay in close embrace within, with legs projecting some two feet behind.
The bullock was a true Oriental. After much urging, he set out at the mincing123 gait of a man in a sack-race—a lame124 man, of very limited vitality125. A dozen heavy welts from the driver’s pole and as many shrill126 screams urged him, occasionally, into a trot127. But it lasted always just four paces, at the end of which the animal shook his head slowly from side to side, as though shocked at his unseemly conduct, and fell again into a walk. The cart was innocent of springs, the roadway an excellent imitation of an abandoned quarry128. Our sweltering progress was marked by a series of shocks as from an electric battery.
Marten ordered the driver to conduct us to an eating-shop. The native grinned knowingly and turned his animal into a by-path leading to a sahib hotel. When we objected to this as too high-priced, he shook his head mournfully and protested that he knew of no native shop which white men might enter. We bumped by a score of restaurants, but all bore the sign “For Hindus Only.”
At last, in a narrow alleyway, the bullock fell asleep before a miserable131 hut. The driver screeched, and a startled coolie tumbled out of the shanty132. There ensued a heated debate in the dialect of southern India, in which Marten fully130 held his own. For a time, the coolie refused to run the risk of losing caste through our polluting touch, but the princely offer of three annas each won him over, and we disembarked, to squat55 on his creaking veranda133.
The bullock cart crawled on. The coolie ran screaming into the hut and reappeared with three banana leaves, a wife, and a multitude of naked urchins, all but the youngest of whom carried a cocoanut shell filled with water or curries134. These being deposited within reach, the native spread the leaves before us, and his better half dumped in the center of each a small peck of rice that burned our over-eager fingers. The meal over, we rose to depart; but the native shrieked135 with dismay and insisted that we carry the leaves and shells away with us, as no member of his family dared touch them.
We wandered on through the bazaars towards the towering rock at the summit of which sits Tommy Atkins, puffing136 drowsily137 at his pipe, 297in utter indifference138 to the approach of that day when his soul, in punishment for eating of the flesh of the sacred cow, shall take up its residence in the body of a pig. Our dinner had been more abundant than substantial. Within an hour I caught myself eyeing the food spread out in the open booths on either side. There were coils of rope-like pastry139 fried in oil, lumps, balls, cakes of sweetmeats, chappatties—bread-sheets smaller and more brittle140 than those of the Arab—pans of dark red chillies, potatoes cut into small cubes and covered with a green curry101 sauce. The Hindu is as much given to nibbling141 as the Mohammedan. By choice, perhaps, he would eat seldom and heartily142, but he lives the most literally143 from hand to mouth of any human creature, and no sooner earns a half-anna than he hurries away to sacrifice it to his ever-unsatisfied hunger. The coolie is rarely permitted to enter a Hindu restaurant, the white man never; and brief were the intervals144 during my wanderings in India that I lived on other fare than that of the low-caste native. The prices could not have been lower, but to eat of the messes displayed under the ragged145 awnings146 of Indian shops requires an imperturbable147 temperament148, an unrestrainable appetite, and a taste for edible149 fire acquired only by Oriental residence.
There are caste rules, too, of which I was supremely150 ignorant when I dropped behind my companions and aroused a shopkeeper asleep among his pots and pans. For months I had been accustomed, in my linguistic151 ignorance, to pick out my own food; but no sooner had I laid hand on a sweetmeat than the merchant shot into the air with an agonized152 scream that brought my fellow-countrymen running back upon me.
“What’s the nigger bawling153 about, Marten?” demanded Haywood.
“Oh, Franck’s gone and polluted his pan of sweets.”
“But I only touched the one I picked up,” I protested, “and I’m going to eat that.”
“These fool niggers won’t see it that way,” replied Marten; “if you put a finger on one piece, the whole dish is polluted. He’s sending for a low-caste man now to carry the panful away and dump it. Nobody’ll buy anything while it stays here.”
The keeper refused angrily to enter into negotiations154 after this disaster and we moved on to the next booth. Under the tutelage of Marten, I stood afar off and pointed a respectful finger from one dish to another. The proprietor155, obeying my orders of “ek annika do, cheh pisika da” (one anna of that, six pice of this) filled several canoe-shaped 298sacks made of leaves sewn together with thread-like weeds, and, motioning to me to stand aloof156, dropped the bundles into my hands, taking care to let go of each before it had touched my palm.
Go where we would, the cry of pollution preceded us. The vendor82 of green cocoanuts entreated157 us to carry away the shells when we had drunk the milk; passing natives sprang aside in terror when we tossed a banana skin on the ground. The seller of water melons would have been compelled to sacrifice his entire stock if one seed of the slice in our hands had fallen on the extreme edge of the banana leaf that covered his stand.
As we turned a corner in the crowded market place, Haywood, who was smoking, accidentally spat158 on the flowing gown of a turbaned passer-by.
“Oh! sahib!” screamed the native, in excellent English, “See what you have done! You have made me lose caste. For weeks I may not go among my friends nor see my family. I must stop my business, and wear rags, and sit in the street, and pour ashes on my head, and go often to the temple to purify myself.”
“Tommy-rot,” said Haywood.
But was it? Certainly not to the weeping Hindu, who turned back the way he had come.
These strange superstitions159 make India a land of especial hardship to the white vagabond “on the road.” He is, in the natural course of events, as safe from violence as in England; but once off the beaten track he finds it difficult to obtain not only food and lodging160, but the sine qua non of the tropics—water. In view of this fact the rulers of India have established a system which, should it come to his ears, would fill the American “hobo” with raging envy. The peninsula, as the world knows, is divided into districts, each governed by a commissioner161 and a deputy commissioner. Except in isolated162 cases, these executives are Englishmen, of whom the senior commonly dwells in the most important city of his territory, and the deputy in the second in size. The law provides that any penniless European shall, upon application to any one of these governors, be provided with a third-class railway ticket to the capital of the next district, and also with “batter129”—money with which to buy food—to the amount of one rupee a day. The beachcomber who wanders inland, therefore, is relayed from one official to another, at the expense of the government, to any port which he may select. This ideal state of affairs is well known to every white vagrant163 in India, who takes it duly into account, like every published charity, in summing up the ways and means of a projected journey.
Hindus of all castes now travel by train
“Haywood” snaps me as I am getting a shave in Trichinopoly
299Not many hours after our arrival in Trichinopoly, Marten had “gone broke.” The four rupees a day of a tally clerk was a princely income in the Orient; but the ex-pearl-fisher was imbued164 with the adventurer’s philosophy that “money is made to spend,” and as the final act of a day of extravagance had tossed his last anna to an idiot roaming through the bazaars. Haywood was anxious to “salt down” the rupees in his hat band, I to make the acquaintance of so important a personage as a district commissioner. Thus it happened that as noonday fell over Trichinopoly, three cotton-clad Americans emerged from the native town and turned northward towards the governor’s bungalow165.
Heat waves hovered166 like fog before us. Here and there a pathetic tree cast its slender shadow, like a splash of ink, across the white highway. A few coolies, their skins immune to sunburn, shuffled167 through the sand on their way to the town. We accosted168 one to inquire our way, but he sprang with a side jump to the extreme edge of the roadway, in terror of our polluting touch.
“Commissioner sahib keh bungalow kéhdereh?” asked Marten.
“Hazur hum malum neh, sahib (I don’t know, sir),” stammered169 the native, backing away as we approached.
“Stand still, you fellows,” shouted Marten; “you’re scaring him so he can’t understand. Every nigger knows where the commissioner lives. Commissioner sahib keh bungalow kéhdereh?”
“Far down the road, oh, protector of the unfortunate.”
We came upon the low rambling170 building in a grove60 among rocky hillocks. Along the broad veranda crouched a dozen punkah-wallahs, pulling drowsily at the cords that moved the great velvet171 fans within. Under the punkahs, at their desks, sat a small army of native officials, mere103 secretaries and clerks, most of them, yet quite majestic172 of appearance in the flowing gowns, great black beards, and brilliant turbans of the high-class Hindu. Servants swarmed about the writers, groveling on their knees each time a social superior deigned173 to issue a command. White men were there none.
The possessor of the most regal turban rose from his cushions as we entered and addressed us in English:—
“Can I be of service to you, sahibs?”
“We want to see the commissioner,” said Marten.
“The commissioner sahib,” replied the Hindu, “is at his bungalow. 300He will perhaps come here for a half hour at three o’clock.”
“But we want tickets for the one o’clock train,” Haywood blurted174 out.
“I am the assistant commissioner,” answered the native. “What the commissioner sahib can do I can do. But it is a very long process to draw upon the funds of the district, and you cannot, perhaps, catch the one o’clock train. Still, I shall hurry as much as possible.”
In his breathless haste he resumed his seat, carefully folded his legs, rolled a cigarette with great deliberation, blew smoke at the punkahs for several moments, and, pulling out the drawers of his desk, examined one by one the ledgers176 and documents within them. The object of his search was not forthcoming. He rose gradually to his feet, made inquiry177 among his hirsute178 colleagues, returned to his cushions, and, calling a dozen servants around him, despatched them on as many errands.
“It’s the ledger175 in which we enter the names of those who apply for tickets,” he explained, “it will soon be found”; and he lighted another cigarette.
A servant came upon the book at last—plainly in sight on the top of the assistant’s desk. That official opened the volume with unnecessary reverence179, read half the entries it contained, and, choosing a native pen, prepared to write. He was not amusing himself at our expense. He was fully convinced that he was moving with all possible celerity.
Slowly his sputtering180 pen rendered into the crippled orthography181 of his native tongue comprehensive biographies of the two mythological182 beings whom Marten and Haywood chose to represent; and the writer turned to me. I protested that I intended to buy my own ticket; but the assistant, regarding me, evidently, as an accessory before the fact, insisted that the story of my life must also adorn72 the pages of his ledger. The entry completed, he laid the book away in a drawer, locked it, and called for a time-table.
“The third-class fare to Tanjore,” he mused183, “is twelve annas. Two tickets will be one and eight. Batter for a half-day for two, one rupee. Total, two rupees and eight annas. I shall now draw upon the treasurer184 for that amount,” and he dragged forth another gigantic tome.
“Tanjore?” cried Marten. “Why, that ain’t fifty miles from here! Is that as far as you’re going to ship us?”
“A commissioner lives there,” replied the Hindu, “and he will send 301you on. Each district is allowed to spend only enough for a ticket to the next one.”
“If we have to go through this every forty miles,” groaned185 Marten, “we’ll die before we get anywhere.”
“Let’s try the commish,” suggested Haywood; “where’s his joint?”
The assistant pointed at the back door, and we struck off through the rock-strewn grove. On the way, Marten fell victim to another inspiration.
“I’ve got it!” he crowed, as we came in sight of the bodyguard186 of servants, flitting in and out among the plants and vines of the commissioner’s veranda, “Just watch my smoke.”
A native conducted us into a broad, low room, richly furnished and cooled by rhythmically187 moving punkahs. The governor of the district was a very young man, the junior, perhaps, of some of our trio. He bade us be seated, ordered a servant to bring us cooling drinks, and, when they were served, signified his readiness to hear our story. Marten stepped forward and, assuming the attitude of an orator188 on whose word hangs the fate of nations, proceeded to trot out the inspiration.
“We have come to you, Mr. Commissioner,” he began, “because we must be in Madras to-morrow morning, and we can’t make it unless we go through on the one o’clock train. We’re seamen189, sir, from a tramp that tied up in Colombo last month. A couple of nights ago we got shore leave and went for a cruise around the city. The skipper told us to be on board at midnight. We landed on the wharf at eleven, an’ paid off our ’rickshaws an’ yelled for a sampan. But blast me eyes, sir, if she wasn’t gone! She’d pulled ’er mud-hook at ten o’clock, sir, we found out, an’ was off two hours before the skipper told us to come back, an’ we was left on the beach. We knowed she was makin’ fer Madras, so we comes over to Tuticorin an’ started to catch ’er. She’ll be off to-morrow morning for ’ome, an’ if we don’t make ’er we’ll be left on the beach, an’ all our clothes is on board, sir. One of us”—pointing at me—“’as dibs enough to take ’im through, but the assistant commissioner won’t give us two tickets only to Tanjore, an’ eight annas batter, an’ if we stop in every district it’ll take a week to get there, an’ cost the gover’ment a lot o’ batter. Couldn’t you give us a ticket straight through, sir, so’s we can make ’er, an’ all our clothes an’ papers is on board, sir.”
“Are you sure your captain will let you back on board?” asked the commissioner.
302“Sure,” cried Marten and Haywood as one man.
The Englishman snatched an official sheet from a drawer, scrawled190 a few lines on it, and handed it to our spokesman.
“Here’s an order for through tickets and a day’s batter,” he said. “Hurry down to the office and give it to my assistant.”
The Hindu force was dismayed at the note. The assistant scanned the signature suspiciously, while secretaries and clerks crowded around him.
“Why, that will be nearly ten rupees!” gasped an official, perusing191 the time-table.
“I wonder,” mused the assistant, “has the commissioner sahib power to grant such an order?”
The force did not know. There were few things of importance, apparently192, that it did know; but the haste with which it abandoned more irksome duties and fell to pulling out ponderous193 volumes proved that it was eager to learn.
“Yes, here it is,” sighed the senior officer at last, pointing out a page to his colleagues, “‘within the discretion194 of the commissioner.’”
“Well, julty karow!” shouted Marten.
There is, you see, a Hindu equivalent for “hurry up.” Philologists195 have noted it, translators have found it valuable, natives use it to interpret the expression that falls so often from sahib lips. But the records make no mention of a man who has induced a Hindu actually and physically196 to julty karow.
“Come,” urged Haywood, “we want to make the one o’clock train.”
“I will hurry,” promised the assistant, transforming his turban into a sheet and gravely rearranging it. “I shall now make out the order.”
“But give us the tickets and cut out the red tape,” growled Marten.
“Oh, sahib, that is impossible,” gasped the Hindu. “I must make out the order and send it to the secretary to be sealed. Then it will go to the treasurer, who will make a note of it and send it to the auditor197 to be stamped and signed. Then it will be returned to the treasurer, who will file it and make out a receipt to send back to the secretary, who will send it to me to be signed, and the auditor—”
But Marten had fled through the back door and we dashed after him.
“You know,” said the commissioner, as he finished writing a second note, “you can’t hurry the Aryan brown. Kipling has written four 303lines that cover the subject. I’ve told them to give you the tickets at once and look up the law afterward198. But you probably cannot catch the one o’clock train. There is, however, a night express that reaches Madras in the morning, and you may take that, even though there is an excess fare, if they cannot get you off by the other.”
The second note demoralized the force. Urged on by the threat of new expenditures199, the assistant strove bravely for once against his lethargic200 Oriental nature. But hurry he could not, from lack of practice. His pen refused to write smoothly201, the treasurer’s keys were out of place, and, when found, refused to fit the lock of the strong box. The senior gave up at last, and, promising that a secretary would meet us at the station in the evening with the higher-priced tickets, bade us good day.
As we rose to depart, Marten asked for water. The high-caste officials scowled almost angrily at the request; they cried out in horrified202 chorus when Haywood stepped towards a chettie in the corner of the room.
“Don’t touch that, sahib!” shrieked the assistant; “I shall arrange to give you a drink.”
He spoke like a man on whom had suddenly fallen the task of launching a first-class battleship. One can smile with indulgence at the naked, illiterate203 coolie who clings to the silly superstitions of caste. The ignorance and sterility204 of a brain weakened by centuries of habitual59 desuetude205 pardons him. But to see educated, full-grown men among men descend36 to the fanatical childishness of ridiculous customs seems, in this twentieth century, the height of absurdity206.
Among the servants within the building were none low enough in caste to be assigned the task of bringing us water. The assistant sent for a punkah-wallah. One of the great folds of velvet fell motionless and there sneaked207 into the room the most abject of human creatures. A curt208 order sounded. The sudra dropped to a squat, raised his clasped hands to his forehead, and shuffled off towards the chettie. Certainly, had he had a tail it would have been close drawn between his legs.
Picking up a heavy brass209 goblet210, he placed it, not on the table, but on the floor in the middle of the room. The officials nearest the blighted211 spot abandoned their desks, and the entire company formed a circle around us. Haywood stepped forward to pick up the cup.
“No, no,” cried the force, “stand back!”
The coolie slunk forward with the chettie and, holding it fully two 304feet above the goblet, filled the vessel, and drew back several paces.
“Now you may drink,” said the assistant.
“Do you want more?” he asked, when the cup was empty.
“Yes.”
“Then leave the lota on the floor and stand back.”
The punkah-wallah filled it as before.
“Good day,” repeated the assistant, when we acknowledged ourselves satisfied, “but you must carry the lota away with you.”
“But it costs a good piece of money,” suggested Haywood.
“Yes,” sighed the Hindu, “but no one dares touch it any more.”
A native clerk met us on the station platform at nightfall, with tickets and “batter.” On the express that thundered in a moment later were two European compartments212; but Haywood was roused to the virile213 profanity of the Bowery at finding one of them occupied by natives. At the climax214 of an aria215 that displayed to advantage his remarkable216 vocabulary of execrations, a deep, solemn bass217 sounded from the next compartment:—
“Young man! Have you no fear of the fires of hell?”
“Oh! Lord!” gasped Marten, “Another padre!”
“Will you drive these niggers out of here!” screamed Haywood to a passing guard.
“Take the next compartment behind,” answered the official, over his shoulder; “There’s only one man in it.”
“Yes! But he’s a missionary!” bawled218 Marten.
The guard was gone. The station master gave the signal for departure and we boarded the express with a sigh of resignation. Haywood swore to wait for the next train rather than endure a sermon; but the fear of being left behind fell upon him, and, as the engine screeched, he scrambled219 through the door after us.
The sermon was immediately forthcoming, and the information we gleaned220 anent the future dwelling-place of blasphemous221 seamen was more voluminous than encouraging. Luckily, towards midnight the missionary exhausted222 both his text and his voice, and left us to enjoy such sleep as the ticket punchers permitted.
The Hindu affects many strange coiffures. Natives of Madras
A Hindu basket-weaver of Madras
In Haywood, as in others of his ilk, neither the Hindu nor his institutions awakened223 any noticeable degree of respect. To him all natives, from Brahmins to sudras, were “niggers,” and such of their customs as did not conform to the standards set up in the vicinity of Mulberry Bend he branded “damn nonsense.” He was a graduate of a school in which differences of opinion are decided224 in favor of the 305disputant first able to crawl to his feet at the end of the controversy225. Nay226, more: he had won public recognition in that brand of oratory227, and had long since outgrown228 the notion that there was any court of last appeal other than a “knock-out.” There were several little points on which Marten and I should have been convinced in spite of our better judgment229 had not a cruel fate enrolled230 the New Yorker in the welter-weight class.
Now the Hindu has never been able to see what advantage or satisfaction arises from marring the visage of an enemy. He takes great joy in giving a foe231 unpleasant information concerning the doings of his ancestors back to the sixth generation, in carrying off his wife, or in gathering232 together a band of friends to accuse him in court of some atrocious crime. But his anger rarely expresses itself in muscular activity.
“When a sahib becomes angry,” a babu once confided to me, “he goes insane. He loses his mind and makes his hands hard and pushes them often and swiftly into the face or the stomach of the other man, or makes his feet go against him behind. It is because he is crazy that he does such foolish things, that have not something to do with the thing that has made him angry.”
Having no fear, therefore, of being repaid in his own coin, Haywood had contracted the pleasant little habit of “beating up” a native on the slightest provocation233. Such conduct, of course, is not confined to beachcombers. Many a European hotel in the Orient displays conspicuous234 placards politely requesting guests not to beat or kick the servants; but to make their complaints to the manager.
Beyond the shadow of a doubt, the Hindu heartily deserves an occasional chastisement235. The subtle ways in which he can annoy a white man without committing an act that can legally be punished, transcend236 the imagination of the Western mind. For centuries past, too, the sahib has been permitted to defend himself against such persecution237 after the orthodox manner of the Occident238. But the good old days, alas239, are gone. A very few years ago an act was passed making assault upon a native a crime. The world outside credited it to the humanity of Lord Curzon. Residents within the country whisper that an overwhelming desire to win the good will of the natives had its rise at the moment when a certain great European power began to gaze longingly240 from its bleak241 steppes in the north upon this vast peninsula below the Himalayas. The Hindu, of course, has not been slow to realize his new power. Slap a native lightly 306in the face, and the probability is that he will appear in court to-morrow with a lacerated and bleeding countenance242 and a score of friends prepared to swear on anything from the Vedas to the ashes of a sacred bull that you inflicted243 the injury.
Haywood was fully cognizant of this state of affairs. Certainly it would have been wisdom, too, on the part of one anxious to pass through India as unostentatiously as possible to have endured an occasional petty annoyance244, rather than to attract attention by resenting it. But endurance was not Haywood’s strong point, and a score of times we felt called upon to warn him that his belligerency would bring him to grief.
In the early morning after our departure from Trichinopoly, the prophecy was fulfilled. The express stopped at a suburban245 station of Madras, and Haywood beckoned246 to a vendor of bananas on the platform. Now the youths of India are wont247 to gamble with bananas, because matches are too costly248, and we were not surprised that the New Yorker blazed up wrathfully when the hawker demanded two annas for four.
He paid the exorbitant249 price under protest, and settled down to break his fast. The fruit, however, proved to be long past the stage when it could appeal to a sahib taste, and the purchaser rose to shake his fist at the deceitful vendor. The shadow of a derisive250 grin played on the features of the native; the thumb of his outspread hand hovered, entirely251 by accident, around the end of his nose; and he fell to chanting a ditty that a man ignorant of the tongue of Madras would have considered quite harmless.
“He says,” interpreted Marten, “that your grandfather was the son of a pig, and fed your father on the entrails of a yellow dog; that your grandmother gave birth to seven puppies, and your mo—”
But Haywood had snatched open the door, and, before the terrified native could move, he “made his foot go against him behind” in no uncertain manner. The Hindu shrieked like a lost soul thrown into the bottomless pit, abandoned his basket, and ran screaming down the platform.
Barely had the New Yorker regained252 his seat when a native officer appeared at the window.
“What for you strike the coolie?” he stammered, angrily; “You come with me! I arrest you,” and he attempted to step into the compartment.
307“Oh, rot!” shouted Marten, “you arrest a white man! Get out of here or I’ll break your neck.”
The policeman tumbled out precipitately253.
“Don’t let him bother you, Haywood,” went on my partner. “Make him get a white cop if he wants to arrest you.”
“Huh! Don’t imagine for a minute any nigger is going to pinch me,” snorted the New Yorker, settling down and lighting254 his pipe.
“I’ll get you a white policeman,” screamed the officer, “down at the Beach station, and I’ll ride there with you.”
He stepped up on the running board once more.
“You’ll ride with the rest of the niggers,” roared Marten. “This compartment is reserved for Europeans.”
The officer was fully aware of that fact. He stepped into the next compartment and, ordering the natives who had been peering at us over the top of the partition to sit down, glued his eyes upon us. The train went on. As far as the next station, Haywood laughed at the threat of arrest on so slight a charge. Before we had reached the second, he had grown serious, and, as we drew near the third, he addressed us in an undertone:—
“Say! I’m going to let this fellow pinch me.”
“What!” whispered Marten, “you’re a fool! A nigger policeman can’t arrest a white man!”
“He can if the white man lets him,” retorted Haywood. “There’s always a bunch of Bobbies at the Beach station and any white cop in Madras would recognize me, an’ they’d hand me out about five years of the lock-step. One of you claim my bundle’s yours, an’ take it an’ this note from the padre to the Christer it’s addressed to, an’ leave ’em there.”
“Heh, you,” he called to the officer above us; “if you want to run me in I’ll go along.”
The officer came near smiling. What native would not have envied him the honor of conducting a sahib to a police station? I swung the New Yorker’s bundle over my shoulder and we stepped out. The policeman walked at a respectful distance from his prisoner and led the way across the Maidan. Three furlongs from the railway, he entered the yard of a small, brick cottage, framed in shrubbery and flowers, and, opening the door for Haywood, closed it in our faces.
We turned away towards the Y. M. C. A. building, an imposing255 modern edifice63 that housed the addressee of Haywood’s note.
308“I’ll pick you up again in a day or two,” said Marten, at the foot of the steps. “I’ve got an uncle living in town with a nigger wife, and I always touch him for a few good meals when I land here.”
The association manager consented to take charge of Haywood’s bundle, and offered me one night’s lodging until I could “look around.” I accepted gladly, though there were still four sovereigns in the band of my trousers. Force of habit led me down to the harbor; but, as I anticipated, I ran no danger of employment in that quarter. The boarding-houses swarmed with native seamen, and the shipping256 master had not signed on a white sailor in so long that he had concluded the type was extinct. I drifted away into the bazaars and, turning up at the association building at nightfall, retreated to a veranda of the second story with a blanket supplied by the manager.
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1
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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3
tally
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| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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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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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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forger
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| v.伪造；n.（钱、文件等的）伪造者 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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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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21
tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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24
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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25
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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26
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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27
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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28
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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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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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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addled
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| adj.（头脑）糊涂的，愚蠢的；（指蛋类）变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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34
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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35
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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37
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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38
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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39
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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40
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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41
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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42
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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43
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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44
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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45
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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46
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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47
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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48
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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49
plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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50
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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51
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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52
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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53
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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54
squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；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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55
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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56
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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57
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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58
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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59
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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60
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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61
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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62
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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63
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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64
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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66
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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67
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
gateways
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| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
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69
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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70
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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71
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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72
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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73
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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74
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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75
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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76
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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77
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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78
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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79
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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80
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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81
vendors
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| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
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82
vendor
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| n.卖主；小贩 | |
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83
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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84
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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85
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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86
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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87
urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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88
clouted
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| adj.缀补的，凝固的v.（尤指用手）猛击，重打( clout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
wreaked
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| 诉诸（武力），施行（暴力），发（脾气）( wreak的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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92
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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93
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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94
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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95
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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96
imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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97
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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98
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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99
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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101
curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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102
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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103
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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104
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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106
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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107
vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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108
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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109
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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110
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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111
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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112
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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113
waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
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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115
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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116
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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117
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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118
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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119
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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120
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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122
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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123
mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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124
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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125
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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126
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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127
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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128
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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129
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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130
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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131
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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132
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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133
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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134
curries
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| n.咖喱食品( curry的名词复数 ) | |
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135
shrieked
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|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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137
drowsily
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|
| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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138
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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139
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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140
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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141
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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142
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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143
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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144
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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145
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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146
awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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147
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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148
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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149
edible
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| n.食品，食物；adj.可食用的 | |
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150
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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151
linguistic
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| adj.语言的，语言学的 | |
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152
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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153
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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154
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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155
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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156
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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157
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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159
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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160
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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161
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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162
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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163
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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164
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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165
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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166
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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167
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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168
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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169
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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170
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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171
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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172
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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173
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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176
ledgers
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| n.分类账( ledger的名词复数 ) | |
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177
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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178
hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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179
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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180
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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181
orthography
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| n.拼字法，拼字式 | |
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182
mythological
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| adj.神话的 | |
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183
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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184
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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185
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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186
bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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187
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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188
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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189
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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190
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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191
perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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192
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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193
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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194
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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195
philologists
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| n.语文学( philology的名词复数 ) | |
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196
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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197
auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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198
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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expenditures
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| n.花费( expenditure的名词复数 )；使用；（尤指金钱的）支出额；（精力、时间、材料等的）耗费 | |
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lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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201
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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202
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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203
illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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204
sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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desuetude
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| n.废止，不用 | |
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206
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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207
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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208
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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209
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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211
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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212
compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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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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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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226
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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228
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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232
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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233
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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235
chastisement
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| n.惩罚 | |
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236
transcend
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| vt.超出，超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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237
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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238
occident
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| n.西方；欧美 | |
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239
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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240
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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241
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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242
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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243
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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244
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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245
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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246
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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247
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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248
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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249
exorbitant
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| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
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250
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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251
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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252
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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253
precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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254
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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255
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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256
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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