The news spreading to the furthermost parts of the settlement found out Abdulla in the cool recess4 of his godown, where he sat overlooking his Arab clerks and the men loading and unloading the up-country canoes. Reshid, who was busy on the jetty, was summoned into his uncle’s presence and found him, as usual, very calm and even cheerful, but very much surprised. The rumour5 of the capture or destruction of Dain’s brig had reached the Arab’s ears three days before from the sea-fishermen and through the dwellers6 on the lower reaches of the river. It had been passed up-stream from neighbour to neighbour till Bulangi, whose clearing was nearest to the settlement, had brought that news himself to Abdulla whose favour he courted. But rumour also spoke7 of a fight and of Dain’s death on board his own vessel8. And now all the settlement talked of Dain’s visit to the Rajah and of his death when crossing the river in the dark to see Almayer.
They could not understand this. Reshid thought that it was very strange. He felt uneasy and doubtful. But Abdulla, after the first shock of surprise, with the old age’s dislike for solving riddles9, showed a becoming resignation. He remarked that the man was dead now at all events, and consequently no more dangerous. Where was the use to wonder at the decrees of Fate, especially if they were propitious10 to the True Believers? And with a pious11 ejaculation to Allah the Merciful, the Compassionate12, Abdulla seemed to regard the incident as closed for the present.
“There are many lies,” he murmured. “He has been dead once before, and came to life to die again now. The Dutch will be here before many days and clamour for the man. Shall I not believe my eyes sooner than the tongues of women and idle men?”
“They say that the body is being taken to Almayer’s compound,” said Abdulla. “If you want to go there you must go before the Dutch arrive here. Go late. It should not be said that we have been seen inside that man’s enclosure lately.”
Reshid assented16 to the truth of this last remark and left his uncle’s side. He leaned against the lintel of the big doorway17 and looked idly across the courtyard through the open gate on to the main road of the settlement. It lay empty, straight, and yellow under the flood of light. In the hot noontide the smooth trunks of palm trees, the outlines of the houses, and away there at the other end of the road the roof of Almayer’s house visible over the bushes on the dark background of forest, seemed to quiver in the heat radiating from the steaming earth. Swarms18 of yellow butterflies rose, and settled to rise again in short flights before Reshid’s half-closed eyes. From under his feet arose the dull hum of insects in the long grass of the courtyard. He looked on sleepily.
From one of the side paths amongst the houses a woman stepped out on the road, a slight girlish figure walking under the shade of a large tray balanced on its head. The consciousness of something moving stirred Reshid’s half-sleeping senses into a comparative wakefulness. He recognised Taminah, Bulangi’s slave-girl, with her tray of cakes for sale—an apparition19 of daily recurrence20 and of no importance whatever. She was going towards Almayer’s house. She could be made useful. He roused himself up and ran towards the gate calling out, “Taminah O!” The girl stopped, hesitated, and came back slowly.
Reshid waited, signing to her impatiently to come nearer.
When near Reshid Taminah stood with downcast eyes. Reshid looked at her a while before he asked—
“Are you going to Almayer’s house? They say in the settlement that Dain the trader, he that was found drowned this morning, is lying in the white man’s campong.”
“I have heard this talk,” whispered Taminah; “and this morning by the riverside I saw the body. Where it is now I do not know.”
“So you have seen it?” asked Reshid, eagerly. “Is it Dain? You have seen him many times. You would know him.”
The girl’s lips quivered and she remained silent for a while, breathing quickly.
“I have seen him, not a long time ago,” she said at last. “The talk is true; he is dead. What do you want from me, Tuan? I must go.”
Just then the report of the gun fired on board the steam launch was heard, interrupting Reshid’s reply. Leaving the girl he ran to the house, and met in the courtyard Abdulla coming towards the gate.
“The Orang Blanda are come,” said Reshid, “and now we shall have our reward.”
Abdulla shook his head doubtfully. “The white men’s rewards are long in coming,” he said. “White men are quick in anger and slow in gratitude21. We shall see.”
He stood at the gate stroking his grey beard and listening to the distant cries of greeting at the other end of the settlement. As Taminah was turning to go he called her back.
“Listen, girl,” he said: “there will be many white men in Almayer’s house. You shall be there selling your cakes to the men of the sea. What you see and what you hear you may tell me. Come here before the sun sets and I will give you a blue handkerchief with red spots. Now go, and forget not to return.”
He gave her a push with the end of his long staff as she was going away and made her stumble.
“This slave is very slow,” he remarked to his nephew, looking after the girl with great disfavour.
Taminah walked on, her tray on the head, her eyes fixed22 on the ground. From the open doors of the houses were heard, as she passed, friendly calls inviting23 her within for business purposes, but she never heeded24 them, neglecting her sales in the preoccupation of intense thinking. Since the very early morning she had heard much, she had also seen much that filled her heart with a joy mingled25 with great suffering and fear. Before the dawn, before she left Bulangi’s house to paddle up to Sambir she had heard voices outside the house when all in it but herself were asleep. And now, with her knowledge of the words spoken in the darkness, she held in her hand a life and carried in her breast a great sorrow. Yet from her springy step, erect26 figure, and face veiled over by the everyday look of apathetic27 indifference28, nobody could have guessed of the double load she carried under the visible burden of the tray piled up high with cakes manufactured by the thrifty29 hands of Bulangi’s wives. In that supple30 figure straight as an arrow, so graceful31 and free in its walk, behind those soft eyes that spoke of nothing but of unconscious resignation, there slept all feelings and all passions, all hopes and all fears, the curse of life and the consolation32 of death. And she knew nothing of it all. She lived like the tall palms amongst whom she was passing now, seeking the light, desiring the sunshine, fearing the storm, unconscious of either. The slave had no hope, and knew of no change. She knew of no other sky, no other water, no other forest, no other world, no other life. She had no wish, no hope, no love, no fear except of a blow, and no vivid feeling but that of occasional hunger, which was seldom, for Bulangi was rich and rice was plentiful33 in the solitary34 house in his clearing. The absence of pain and hunger was her happiness, and when she felt unhappy she was simply tired, more than usual, after the day’s labour. Then in the hot nights of the south-west monsoon she slept dreamlessly under the bright stars on the platform built outside the house and over the river. Inside they slept too: Bulangi by the door; his wives further in; the children with their mothers. She could hear their breathing; Bulangi’s sleepy voice; the sharp cry of a child soon hushed with tender words. And she closed her eyes to the murmur14 of the water below her, to the whisper of the warm wind above, ignorant of the never-ceasing life of that tropical nature that spoke to her in vain with the thousand faint voices of the near forest, with the breath of tepid36 wind; in the heavy scents38 that lingered around her head; in the white wraiths39 of morning mist that hung over her in the solemn hush35 of all creation before the dawn.
Such had been her existence before the coming of the brig with the strangers. She remembered well that time; the uproar40 in the settlement, the never-ending wonder, the days and nights of talk and excitement. She remembered her own timidity with the strange men, till the brig moored41 to the bank became in a manner part of the settlement, and the fear wore off in the familiarity of constant intercourse42. The call on board then became part of her daily round. She walked hesitatingly up the slanting43 planks44 of the gangway amidst the encouraging shouts and more or less decent jokes of the men idling over the bulwarks45. There she sold her wares46 to those men that spoke so loud and carried themselves so free. There was a throng47, a constant coming and going; calls interchanged, orders given and executed with shouts; the rattle48 of blocks, the flinging about of coils of rope. She sat out of the way under the shade of the awning49, with her tray before her, the veil drawn50 well over her face, feeling shy amongst so many men. She smiled at all buyers, but spoke to none, letting their jests pass with stolid51 unconcern. She heard many tales told around her of far-off countries, of strange customs, of events stranger still. Those men were brave; but the most fearless of them spoke of their chief with fear. Often the man they called their master passed before her, walking erect and indifferent, in the pride of youth, in the flash of rich dress, with a tinkle52 of gold ornaments53, while everybody stood aside watching anxiously for a movement of his lips, ready to do his bidding. Then all her life seemed to rush into her eyes, and from under her veil she gazed at him, charmed, yet fearful to attract attention. One day he noticed her and asked, “Who is that girl?” “A slave, Tuan! A girl that sells cakes,” a dozen voices replied together. She rose in terror to run on shore, when he called her back; and as she stood trembling with head hung down before him, he spoke kind words, lifting her chin with his hand and looking into her eyes with a smile. “Do not be afraid,” he said. He never spoke to her any more. Somebody called out from the river bank; he turned away and forgot her existence. Taminah saw Almayer standing54 on the shore with Nina on his arm. She heard Nina’s voice calling out gaily55, and saw Dain’s face brighten with joy as he leaped on shore. She hated the sound of that voice ever since.
After that day she left off visiting Almayer’s compound, and passed the noon hours under the shade of the brig awning. She watched for his coming with heart beating quicker and quicker, as he approached, into a wild tumult56 of newly-aroused feelings of joy and hope and fear that died away with Dain’s retreating figure, leaving her tired out, as if after a struggle, sitting still for a long time in dreamy languor57. Then she paddled home slowly in the afternoon, often letting her canoe float with the lazy stream in the quiet backwater of the river. The paddle hung idle in the water as she sat in the stern, one hand supporting her chin, her eyes wide open, listening intently to the whispering of her heart that seemed to swell58 at last into a song of extreme sweetness. Listening to that song she husked the rice at home; it dulled her ears to the shrill59 bickerings of Bulangi’s wives, to the sound of angry reproaches addressed to herself. And when the sun was near its setting she walked to the bathing-place and heard it as she stood on the tender grass of the low bank, her robe at her feet, and looked at the reflection of her figure on the glass-like surface of the creek60. Listening to it she walked slowly back, her wet hair hanging over her shoulders; laying down to rest under the bright stars, she closed her eyes to the murmur of the water below, of the warm wind above; to the voice of nature speaking through the faint noises of the great forest, and to the song of her own heart.
She heard, but did not understand, and drank in the dreamy joy of her new existence without troubling about its meaning or its end, till the full consciousness of life came to her through pain and anger. And she suffered horribly the first time she saw Nina’s long canoe drift silently past the sleeping house of Bulangi, bearing the two lovers into the white mist of the great river. Her jealousy61 and rage culminated62 into a paroxysm of physical pain that left her lying panting on the river bank, in the dumb agony of a wounded animal. But she went on moving patiently in the enchanted63 circle of slavery, going through her task day after day with all the pathos64 of the grief she could not express, even to herself, locked within her breast. She shrank from Nina as she would have shrunk from the sharp blade of a knife cutting into her flesh, but she kept on visiting the brig to feed her dumb, ignorant soul on her own despair. She saw Dain many times. He never spoke, he never looked. Could his eyes see only one woman’s image? Could his ears hear only one woman’s voice? He never noticed her; not once.
And then he went away. She saw him and Nina for the last time on that morning when Babalatchi, while visiting his fish baskets, had his suspicions of the white man’s daughter’s love affair with Dain confirmed beyond the shadow of doubt. Dain disappeared, and Taminah’s heart, where lay useless and barren the seeds of all love and of all hate, the possibilities of all passions and of all sacrifices, forgot its joys and its sufferings when deprived of the help of the senses. Her half-formed, savage65 mind, the slave of her body—as her body was the slave of another’s will—forgot the faint and vague image of the ideal that had found its beginning in the physical promptings of her savage nature. She dropped back into the torpor66 of her former life and found consolation—even a certain kind of happiness—in the thought that now Nina and Dain were separated, probably for ever. He would forget. This thought soothed67 the last pangs68 of dying jealousy that had nothing now to feed upon, and Taminah found peace. It was like the dreary69 tranquillity70 of a desert, where there is peace only because there is no life.
And now he had returned. She had recognised his voice calling aloud in the night for Bulangi. She had crept out after her master to listen closer to the intoxicating71 sound. Dain was there, in a boat, talking to Bulangi. Taminah, listening with arrested breath, heard another voice. The maddening joy, that only a second before she thought herself incapable72 of containing within her fast-beating heart, died out, and left her shivering in the old anguish73 of physical pain that she had suffered once before at the sight of Dain and Nina. Nina spoke now, ordering and entreating74 in turns, and Bulangi was refusing, expostulating, at last consenting. He went in to take a paddle from the heap lying behind the door. Outside the murmur of two voices went on, and she caught a word here and there. She understood that he was fleeing from white men, that he was seeking a hiding-place, that he was in some danger. But she heard also words which woke the rage of jealousy that had been asleep for so many days in her bosom75. Crouching76 low on the mud in the black darkness amongst the piles, she heard the whisper in the boat that made light of toil77, of privation, of danger, of life itself, if in exchange there could be but a short moment of close embrace, a look from the eyes, the feel of light breath, the touch of soft lips. So spoke Dain as he sat in the canoe holding Nina’s hands while waiting for Bulangi’s return; and Taminah, supporting herself by the slimy pile, felt as if a heavy weight was crushing her down, down into the black oily water at her feet. She wanted to cry out; to rush at them and tear their vague shadows apart; to throw Nina into the smooth water, cling to her close, hold her to the bottom where that man could not find her. She could not cry, she could not move. Then footsteps were heard on the bamboo platform above her head; she saw Bulangi get into his smallest canoe and take the lead, the other boat following, paddled by Dain and Nina. With a slight splash of the paddles dipped stealthily into the water, their indistinct forms passed before her aching eyes and vanished in the darkness of the creek.
She remained there in the cold and wet, powerless to move, breathing painfully under the crushing weight that the mysterious hand of Fate had laid so suddenly upon her slender shoulders, and shivering, she felt within a burning fire, that seemed to feed upon her very life. When the breaking day had spread a pale golden ribbon over the black outline of the forests, she took up her tray and departed towards the settlement, going about her task purely78 from the force of habit. As she approached Sambir she could see the excitement and she heard with momentary79 surprise of the finding of Dain’s body. It was not true, of course. She knew it well. She regretted that he was not dead. She should have liked Dain to be dead, so as to be parted from that woman—from all women. She felt a strong desire to see Nina, but without any clear object. She hated her, and feared her and she felt an irresistible80 impulse pushing her towards Almayer’s house to see the white woman’s face, to look close at those eyes, to hear again that voice, for the sound of which Dain was ready to risk his liberty, his life even. She had seen her many times; she had heard her voice daily for many months past. What was there in her? What was there in that being to make a man speak as Dain had spoken, to make him blind to all other faces, deaf to all other voices?
She left the crowd by the riverside, and wandered aimlessly among the empty houses, resisting the impulse that pushed her towards Almayer’s campong to seek there in Nina’s eyes the secret of her own misery81. The sun mounting higher, shortened the shadows and poured down upon her a flood of light and of stifling82 heat as she passed on from shadow to light, from light to shadow, amongst the houses, the bushes, the tall trees, in her unconscious flight from the pain in her own heart. In the extremity83 of her distress84 she could find no words to pray for relief, she knew of no heaven to send her prayer to, and she wandered on with tired feet in the dumb surprise and terror at the injustice85 of the suffering inflicted86 upon her without cause and without redress87.
The short talk with Reshid, the proposal of Abdulla steadied her a little and turned her thoughts into another channel. Dain was in some danger. He was hiding from white men. So much she had overheard last night. They all thought him dead. She knew he was alive, and she knew of his hiding-place. What did the Arabs want to know about the white men? The white men want with Dain? Did they wish to kill him? She could tell them all—no, she would say nothing, and in the night she would go to him and sell him his life for a word, for a smile, for a gesture even, and be his slave in far-off countries, away from Nina. But there were dangers. The one-eyed Babalatchi who knew everything; the white man’s wife—she was a witch. Perhaps they would tell. And then there was Nina. She must hurry on and see.
In her impatience88 she left the path and ran towards Almayer’s dwelling89 through the undergrowth between the palm trees. She came out at the back of the house, where a narrow ditch, full of stagnant90 water that overflowed91 from the river, separated Almayer’s campong from the rest of the settlement. The thick bushes growing on the bank were hiding from her sight the large courtyard with its cooking shed. Above them rose several thin columns of smoke, and from behind the sound of strange voices informed Taminah that the Men of the Sea belonging to the warship92 had already landed and were camped between the ditch and the house. To the left one of Almayer’s slave-girls came down to the ditch and bent93 over the shiny water, washing a kettle. To the right the tops of the banana plantation94, visible above the bushes, swayed and shook under the touch of invisible hands gathering95 the fruit. On the calm water several canoes moored to a heavy stake were crowded together, nearly bridging the ditch just at the place where Taminah stood. The voices in the courtyard rose at times into an outburst of calls, replies, and laughter, and then died away into a silence that soon was broken again by a fresh clamour. Now and again the thin blue smoke rushed out thicker and blacker, and drove in odorous masses over the creek, wrapping her for a moment in a suffocating96 veil; then, as the fresh wood caught well alight, the smoke vanished in the bright sunlight, and only the scent37 of aromatic97 wood drifted afar, to leeward98 of the crackling fires.
Taminah rested her tray on a stump99 of a tree, and remained standing with her eyes turned towards Almayer’s house, whose roof and part of a whitewashed100 wall were visible over the bushes. The slave-girl finished her work, and after looking for a while curiously101 at Taminah, pushed her way through the dense102 thicket103 back to the courtyard. Round Taminah there was now a complete solitude104. She threw herself down on the ground, and hid her face in her hands. Now when so close she had no courage to see Nina. At every burst of louder voices from the courtyard she shivered in the fear of hearing Nina’s voice. She came to the resolution of waiting where she was till dark, and then going straight to Dain’s hiding-place. From where she was she could watch the movements of white men, of Nina, of all Dain’s friends, and of all his enemies. Both were hateful alike to her, for both would take him away beyond her reach. She hid herself in the long grass to wait anxiously for the sunset that seemed so slow to come.
On the other side of the ditch, behind the bush, by the clear fires, the seamen105 of the frigate106 had encamped on the hospitable107 invitation of Almayer. Almayer, roused out of his apathy108 by the prayers and importunity109 of Nina, had managed to get down in time to the jetty so as to receive the officers at their landing. The lieutenant110 in command accepted his invitation to his house with the remark that in any case their business was with Almayer—and perhaps not very pleasant, he added. Almayer hardly heard him. He shook hands with them absently and led the way towards the house. He was scarcely conscious of the polite words of welcome he greeted the strangers with, and afterwards repeated several times over again in his efforts to appear at ease. The agitation111 of their host did not escape the officer’s eyes, and the chief confided112 to his subordinate, in a low voice, his doubts as to Almayer’s sobriety. The young sub-lieutenant laughed and expressed in a whisper the hope that the white man was not intoxicated113 enough to neglect the offer of some refreshments114. “He does not seem very dangerous,” he added, as they followed Almayer up the steps of the verandah.
They sat around the table. Almayer with shaking hands made gin cocktails116, offered them all round, and drank himself, with every gulp117 feeling stronger, steadier, and better able to face all the difficulties of his position. Ignorant of the fate of the brig he did not suspect the real object of the officer’s visit. He had a general notion that something must have leaked out about the gunpowder118 trade, but apprehended119 nothing beyond some temporary inconveniences. After emptying his glass he began to chat easily, lying back in his chair with one of his legs thrown negligently120 over the arm. The lieutenant astride on his chair, a glowing cheroot in the corner of his mouth, listened with a sly smile from behind the thick volumes of smoke that escaped from his compressed lips. The young sub-lieutenant, leaning with both elbows on the table, his head between his hands, looked on sleepily in the torpor induced by fatigue121 and the gin. Almayer talked on—
“It is a great pleasure to see white faces here. I have lived here many years in great solitude. The Malays, you understand, are not company for a white man; moreover they are not friendly; they do not understand our ways. Great rascals122 they are. I believe I am the only white man on the east coast that is a settled resident. We get visitors from Macassar or Singapore sometimes—traders, agents, or explorers, but they are rare. There was a scientific explorer here a year or more ago. He lived in my house: drank from morning to night. He lived joyously123 for a few months, and when the liquor he brought with him was gone he returned to Batavia with a report on the mineral wealth of the interior. Ha, ha, ha! Good, is it not?”
He ceased abruptly124 and looked at his guests with a meaningless stare. While they laughed he was reciting to himself the old story: “Dain dead, all my plans destroyed. This is the end of all hope and of all things.” His heart sank within him. He felt a kind of deadly sickness.
“Very good. Capital!” exclaimed both officers. Almayer came out of his despondency with another burst of talk.
“Eh! what about the dinner? You have got a cook with you. That’s all right. There is a cooking shed in the other courtyard. I can give you a goose. Look at my geese—the only geese on the east coast—perhaps on the whole island. Is that your cook? Very good. Here, Ali, show this Chinaman the cooking place and tell Mem Almayer to let him have room there. My wife, gentlemen, does not come out; my daughter may. Meantime have some more drink. It is a hot day.”
The lieutenant took the cigar out of his mouth, looked at the ash critically, shook it off and turned towards Almayer.
“We have a rather unpleasant business with you,” he said.
“I am sorry,” returned Almayer. “It can be nothing very serious, surely.”
“If you think an attempt to blow up forty men at least, not a serious matter you will not find many people of your opinion,” retorted the officer sharply.
“Blow up! What? I know nothing about it,” exclaimed Almayer. “Who did that, or tried to do it?”
“A man with whom you had some dealings,” answered the lieutenant. “He passed here under the name of Dain Maroola. You sold him the gunpowder he had in that brig we captured.”
“How did you hear about the brig?” asked Almayer. “I know nothing about the powder he may have had.”
“An Arab trader of this place has sent the information about your goings on here to Batavia, a couple of months ago,” said the officer. “We were waiting for the brig outside, but he slipped past us at the mouth of the river, and we had to chase the fellow to the southward. When he sighted us he ran inside the reefs and put the brig ashore125. The crew escaped in boats before we could take possession. As our boats neared the craft it blew up with a tremendous explosion; one of the boats being too near got swamped. Two men drowned—that is the result of your speculation126, Mr. Almayer. Now we want this Dain. We have good grounds to suppose he is hiding in Sambir. Do you know where he is? You had better put yourself right with the authorities as much as possible by being perfectly127 frank with me. Where is this Dain?”
Almayer got up and walked towards the balustrade of the verandah. He seemed not to be thinking of the officer’s question. He looked at the body laying straight and rigid128 under its white cover on which the sun, declining amongst the clouds to the westward129, threw a pale tinge130 of red. The lieutenant waited for the answer, taking quick pulls at his half-extinguished cigar. Behind them Ali moved noiselessly laying the table, ranging solemnly the ill-assorted and shabby crockery, the tin spoons, the forks with broken prongs, and the knives with saw-like blades and loose handles. He had almost forgotten how to prepare the table for white men. He felt aggrieved131; Mem Nina would not help him. He stepped back to look at his work admiringly, feeling very proud. This must be right; and if the master afterwards is angry and swears, then so much the worse for Mem Nina. Why did she not help? He left the verandah to fetch the dinner.
“Well, Mr. Almayer, will you answer my question as frankly132 as it is put to you?” asked the lieutenant, after a long silence.
Almayer turned round and looked at his interlocutor steadily133. “If you catch this Dain what will you do with him?” he asked.
The officer’s face flushed. “This is not an answer,” he said, annoyed.
“Are you inclined to bargain?” growled135 the other. “It would be bad policy, I assure you. At present I have no orders about your person, but we expected your assistance in catching136 this Malay.”
“Ah!” interrupted Almayer, “just so: you can do nothing without me, and I, knowing the man well, am to help you in finding him.”
“This is exactly what we expect,” assented the officer. “You have broken the law, Mr. Almayer, and you ought to make amends137.”
“And save myself?”
“Well, in a sense yes. Your head is not in any danger,” said the lieutenant, with a short laugh.
“Very well,” said Almayer, with decision, “I shall deliver the man up to you.”
Both officers rose to their feet quickly, and looked for their side-arms which they had unbuckled. Almayer laughed harshly.
“Steady, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “In my own time and in my own way. After dinner, gentlemen, you shall have him.”
“This is preposterous,” urged the lieutenant. “Mr. Almayer, this is no joking matter. The man is a criminal. He deserves to hang. While we dine he may escape; the rumour of our arrival—”
Almayer walked towards the table. “I give you my word of honour, gentlemen, that he shall not escape; I have him safe enough.”
“The arrest should be effected before dark,” remarked the young sub.
“I shall hold you responsible for any failure. We are ready, but can do nothing just now without you,” added the senior, with evident annoyance138.
Almayer made a gesture of assent15. “On my word of honour,” he repeated vaguely139. “And now let us dine,” he added briskly.
Nina came through the doorway and stood for a moment holding the curtain aside for Ali and the old Malay woman bearing the dishes; then she moved towards the three men by the table.
“Allow me,” said Almayer, pompously140. “This is my daughter. Nina, these gentlemen, officers of the frigate outside, have done me the honour to accept my hospitality.”
Nina answered the low bows of the two officers by a slow inclination141 of the head and took her place at the table opposite her father. All sat down. The coxswain of the steam launch came up carrying some bottles of wine.
“You will allow me to have this put upon the table?” said the lieutenant to Almayer.
“What! Wine! You are very kind. Certainly, I have none myself. Times are very hard.”
The last words of his reply were spoken by Almayer in a faltering142 voice. The thought that Dain was dead recurred143 to him vividly144 again, and he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his throat. He reached for the gin bottle while they were uncorking the wine and swallowed a big gulp. The lieutenant, who was speaking to Nina, gave him a quick glance. The young sub began to recover from the astonishment145 and confusion caused by Nina’s unexpected appearance and great beauty. “She was very beautiful and imposing,” he reflected, “but after all a half-caste girl.” This thought caused him to pluck up heart and look at Nina sideways. Nina, with composed face, was answering in a low, even voice the elder officer’s polite questions as to the country and her mode of life. Almayer pushed his plate away and drank his guest’s wine in gloomy silence.
该作者的其它作品
《Lord Jim 吉姆老爷》
《白水仙号上的黑家伙 The Nigger of the Narcissus》
《The Mirror of the Sea大海的镜子》
该作者的其它作品
《Lord Jim 吉姆老爷》
《白水仙号上的黑家伙 The Nigger of the Narcissus》
《The Mirror of the Sea大海的镜子》
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
monsoon
|
|
| n.季雨，季风，大雨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sojourn
|
|
| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
spat
|
|
| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
rumour
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
dwellers
|
|
| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
riddles
|
|
| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
propitious
|
|
| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
pious
|
|
| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
compassionate
|
|
| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
swarms
|
|
| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
heeded
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
apathetic
|
|
| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thrifty
|
|
| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
plentiful
|
|
| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
tepid
|
|
| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
scents
|
|
| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
wraiths
|
|
| n.幽灵( wraith的名词复数 )；（传说中人在将死或死后不久的）显形阴魂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
uproar
|
|
| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
moored
|
|
| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
planks
|
|
| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
bulwarks
|
|
| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
wares
|
|
| n. 货物, 商品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
awning
|
|
| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
tinkle
|
|
| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
culminated
|
|
| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
enchanted
|
|
| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
torpor
|
|
| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
tranquillity
|
|
| n. 平静, 安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
entreating
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
stifling
|
|
| a.令人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
redress
|
|
| n.赔偿，救济，矫正；v.纠正，匡正，革除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
stagnant
|
|
| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
overflowed
|
|
| 溢出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
warship
|
|
| n.军舰，战舰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
suffocating
|
|
| a.使人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
aromatic
|
|
| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
leeward
|
|
| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
whitewashed
|
|
| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
thicket
|
|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
seamen
|
|
| n.海员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
frigate
|
|
| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
apathy
|
|
| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
importunity
|
|
| n.硬要，强求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
confided
|
|
| 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） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
intoxicated
|
|
| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
refreshments
|
|
| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
knave
|
|
| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
cocktails
|
|
| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
gulp
|
|
| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
gunpowder
|
|
| n.火药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
apprehended
|
|
| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
negligently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
rascals
|
|
| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
joyously
|
|
| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
aggrieved
|
|
| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
heeding
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
growled
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
pompously
|
|
| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
faltering
|
|
| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |