This, at first, we did not worry about, thinking that at any moment it might spring up again. But the whole day went by; then two days; then a week,—ten days, and the wind grew no stronger. The Curlew just dawdled3 along at the speed of a toddling4 babe.
I now saw that the Doctor was becoming uneasy. He kept getting out his sextant (an instrument which tells you what part of the ocean you are in) and making calculations. He was forever looking at his maps and measuring distances on them. The far edge of the sea, all around us, he examined with his telescope a hundred times a day.
“But Doctor,” I said when I found him one afternoon mumbling5 to himself about the misty6 appearance of the sky, “it wouldn’t matter so much, would it, if we did take a little longer over the trip? We’ve got plenty to eat on board now; and the Purple Bird-of-Paradise will know that we have been delayed by something that we couldn’t help.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said thoughtfully. “But I hate to keep her waiting. At this season of the year she generally goes to the Peruvian mountains—for her health. And besides, the good weather she prophesied7 is likely to end any day now and delay us still further. If we could only keep moving at even a fair speed, I wouldn’t mind. It’s this hanging around, almost dead still, that gets me restless—Ah, here comes a wind—Not very strong—but maybe it’ll grow.”
A gentle breeze from the Northeast came singing through the ropes; and we smiled up hopefully at the Curlew’s leaning masts.
“We’ve only got another hundred and fifty miles to make, to sight the coast of Brazil,” said the Doctor. “If that wind would just stay with us, steady, for a full day we’d see land.”
But suddenly the wind changed, swung to the East, then back to the Northeast—then to the North. It came in fitful gusts8, as though it hadn’t made up its mind which way to blow; and I was kept busy at the wheel, swinging the Curlew this way and that to keep the right side of it.
Presently we heard Polynesia, who was in the rigging keeping a look-out for land or passing ships, screech9 down to us,
“Bad weather coming. That jumpy wind is an ugly sign. And look!—over there in the East—see that black line, low down? If that isn’t a storm I’m a land-lubber. The gales10 round here are fierce, when they do blow—tear your canvas out like paper. You take the wheel, Doctor: it’ll need a strong arm if it’s a real storm. I’ll go wake Bumpo and Chee-Chee. This looks bad to me. We’d best get all the sail down right away, till we see how strong she’s going to blow.”
Indeed the whole sky was now beginning to take on a very threatening look. The black line to the eastward11 grew blacker as it came nearer and nearer. A low, rumbly, whispering noise went moaning over the sea. The water which had been so blue and smiling turned to a ruffled12 ugly gray. And across the darkening sky, shreds13 of cloud swept like tattered14 witches flying from the storm.
I must confess I was frightened. You see I had only so far seen the sea in friendly moods: sometimes quiet and lazy; sometimes laughing, venturesome and reckless; sometimes brooding and poetic15, when moonbeams turned her ripples16 into silver threads and dreaming snowy night-clouds piled up fairy-castles in the sky. But as yet I had not known, or even guessed at, the terrible strength of the Sea’s wild anger.
When that storm finally struck us we leaned right over flatly on our side, as though some invisible giant had slapped the poor Curlew on the cheek.
After that things happened so thick and so fast that what with the wind that stopped your breath, the driving, blinding water, the deafening17 noise and the rest, I haven’t a very clear idea of how our shipwreck18 came about.
I remember seeing the sails, which we were now trying to roll up upon the deck, torn out of our hands by the wind and go overboard like a penny balloon—very nearly carrying Chee-Chee with them. And I have a dim recollection of Polynesia screeching19 somewhere for one of us to go downstairs and close the port-holes.
In spite of our masts being bare of sail we were now scudding20 along to the southward at a great pace. But every once in a while huge gray-black waves would arise from under the ship’s side like nightmare monsters, swell21 and climb, then crash down upon us, pressing us into the sea; and the poor Curlew would come to a standstill, half under water, like a gasping22, drowning pig.
While I was clambering along towards the wheel to see the Doctor, clinging like a leech23 with hands and legs to the rails lest I be blown overboard, one of these tremendous seas tore loose my hold, filled my throat with water and swept me like a cork24 the full length of the deck. My head struck a door with an awful bang. And then I fainted.
点击收听单词发音
1 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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2 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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3 dawdled | |
v.混(时间)( dawdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 toddling | |
v.(幼儿等)东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 );蹒跚行走;溜达;散步 | |
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5 mumbling | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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6 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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7 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 gusts | |
一阵强风( gust的名词复数 ); (怒、笑等的)爆发; (感情的)迸发; 发作 | |
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9 screech | |
n./v.尖叫;(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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10 gales | |
龙猫 | |
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11 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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12 ruffled | |
adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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13 shreds | |
v.撕碎,切碎( shred的第三人称单数 );用撕毁机撕毁(文件) | |
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14 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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15 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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16 ripples | |
逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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17 deafening | |
adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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18 shipwreck | |
n.船舶失事,海难 | |
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19 screeching | |
v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 );发出粗而刺耳的声音;高叫 | |
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20 scudding | |
n.刮面v.(尤指船、舰或云彩)笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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21 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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22 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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23 leech | |
n.水蛭,吸血鬼,榨取他人利益的人;vt.以水蛭吸血;vi.依附于别人 | |
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24 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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