With all her strength she rejected her son's image, even as she had always rejected Vorski's. But the two images became mingled5 together, whirling around her and dancing before her eyes like those lights which, when we close our eyelids6 tightly, pass and pass again and multiply and blend into one. And it was always one and the same face, cruel, sardonic7, hideously8 grinning.
She did not suffer, as a mother suffers when mourning the loss of a son. Her son had been dead these fourteen years; and the one who had come to life again, the one for whom all the wells of her maternal10 affection were ready to gush11 forth12, had suddenly become a stranger and even worse: Vorski's son! How indeed could she have suffered?
But ah, what a wound inflicted13 in the depths of her being! What an upheaval14, like those cataclysms15 which shake the whole of a peaceful country-side! What a hellish spectacle! What a vision of madness and horror! What an ironical16 jest, a jest of the most hideous9 destiny! Her son killing17 her father at the moment when, after all these years of separation and sorrow, she was on the point of embracing them both and living with them in sweet and homely18 intimacy19! Her son a murderer! Her son dispensing20 death and terror broadcast! Her son levelling that ruthless weapon, slaying21 with all his heart and soul and taking a perverse22 delight in it!
The motives23 which might explain these actions interested her not at all. Why had her son done these things? Why had his tutor, Stéphane Maroux, doubtless an accomplice24, possibly an instigator25, fled before the tragedy? These were questions which she did not seek to solve. She thought only of the frightful26 scene of carnage and death. And she asked herself if death was not for her the only refuge and the only ending.
"Madame Véronique," whispered Honorine.
"Don't you hear?"
"What?"
"A ring at the bell below. They must be bringing your luggage."
She sprang to her feet.
"But what am I to say? How can I explain? . . . If I accuse that boy . . ."
"Not a word, please. Let me speak to them."
"You're very weak, my poor Honorine."
"No, no, I'm feeling better."
Véronique went downstairs, crossed a broad entrance-hall paved with black and white flags and drew the bolts of a great door.
It was, as they expected, one of the sailors:
"I knocked at the kitchen-door first," said the man. "Isn't Marie Le Goff there? And Madame Honorine?"
"Honorine is upstairs and would like to speak to you."
The sailor looked at her, seemed impressed by this young woman, who looked so pale and serious, and followed her without a word.
"Ah, it's you, Corréjou? . . . Now listen to me . . . and no silly talk, please."
"What's the matter, M'ame Honorine? Why, you're wounded! What is it?"
She stepped aside from the doorway29 and, pointing to the two bodies under their winding-sheets, said simply:
"Monsieur Antoine and Marie Le Goff . . . both of them murdered."
"Murdered . . . you don't say so . . . . Why?"
"I don't know; we arrived after it happened."
"But . . . young François? . . . Monsieur Stéphane? . . ."
"Gone . . . . They must have been killed too."
"But . . . but . . . Maguennoc?"
"Maguennoc? Why do you speak of Maguennoc?"
"I speak of Maguennoc, I speak of Maguennoc . . . because, if he's alive . . . this is a very different business. Maguennoc always said that he would be the first. Maguennoc only says things of which he's certain. Maguennoc understands these things thoroughly31."
Honorine reflected and then said:
"Maguennoc has been killed."
This time Corréjou lost all his composure: and his features expressed that sort of insane terror which Véronique had repeatedly observed in Honorine. He made the sign of the cross and said, in a low whisper:
"Then . . . then . . . it's happening, Ma'me Honorine? . . . Maguennoc said it would . . . . Only the other day, in my boat, he was saying, 'It won't be long now . . . . Everybody ought to get away.'"
And suddenly the sailor turned on his heel and made for the staircase.
"Stay where you are, Corréjou," said Honorine, in a voice of command.
"We must get away. Maguennoc said so. Everybody has got to go."
"Stay where you are," Honorine repeated.
Corréjou stopped, undecidedly. And Honorine continued:
"We are agreed. We must go. We shall start to-morrow, towards the evening. But first we must attend to Monsieur Antoine and to Marie Le Goff. Look here, you go to the sisters Archignat and send them to keep watch by the dead. They are bad women, but they are used to doing that. Say that two of the three must come. Each of them shall have double the ordinary fee."
"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?"
"You and all the old men will see to the coffins33; and at daybreak we will bury the bodies in consecrated34 ground, in the cemetery35 of the chapel36."
"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?"
"After that, you will be free and the others too. You can pack up and be off."
"But you, Ma'me Honorine?"
"I have the boat. That's enough talking. Are we agreed?"
"Yes, we're agreed. It means one more night to spend here. But I suppose that nothing fresh will happen between this and to-morrow? . . ."
"Why no, why no . . . Go, Corréjou. Hurry. And above all don't tell the others that Maguennoc is dead . . . or we shall never keep them here."
"That's a promise, Ma'me Honorine."
The man hastened away.
An hour later, two of the sisters Archignat appeared, two skinny, shrivelled old hags, looking like witches in their dirty, greasy37 caps with the black-velvet bows. Honorine was taken to her own room on the same floor, at the end of the left wing.
And the vigil of the dead began.
Véronique spent the first part of the night beside her father's body and then went and sat with Honorine, whose condition seemed to grow worse. She ended by dozing38 off and was wakened by the Breton woman, who said to her, in one of those accesses of fever in which the brain still retains a certain lucidity39:
"François must be hiding . . . and M. Stéphane too . . . The island has safe hiding-places, which Maguennoc showed them. We shan't see them, therefore; and no one will know anything about them."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite. So listen to me. To-morrow, when everybody has left Sarek and when we two are alone, I shall blow the signal with my horn and he will come here."
"But I don't want to see him!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "I loathe41 him! . . . Like my father, I curse him! . . . Have you forgotten? He killed my father, before our eyes! He killed Marie Le Goff! He tried to kill you! . . . No, what I feel for him is hatred42 and disgust! The monster!"
The Breton woman took her hand, as she had formed a habit of doing, and murmured:
"What do you mean? He didn't know? Why, I saw his eyes, Vorski's eyes!"
"He did not know . . . he was mad."
"Mad? Nonsense!"
"Yes, Madame Véronique. I know the boy. He's the kindest creature on earth. If he did all this, it was because he went mad suddenly . . . he and M. Stéphane. They must both be weeping in despair now."
"It's impossible. I can't believe it."
"You can't believe it because you know nothing of what is happening . . . and of what is going to happen . . . . But, if you did know . . . Oh, there are things . . . there are things!"
Her voice was no longer audible. She was silent, but her eyes remained wide open and her lips moved without uttering a sound.
Nothing occurred until the morning. At five o'clock Véronique heard them nailing down the coffins; and almost immediately afterwards the door of the room in which she sat was opened and the sisters Archignat entered like a whirlwind, both greatly excited.
They had heard the truth from Corréjou, who, to give himself courage, had taken a drop too much to drink and was talking at random44:
"Maguennoc is dead!" they screamed. "Maguennoc is dead and you never told us! Give us our money, quick! We're going!"
The moment they were paid, they ran away as fast as their legs would carry them; and, an hour later, some other women, informed by them, came hurrying to drag their men from their work. They all used the same words:
"We must go! We must get ready to start! . . . It'll be too late afterwards. The two boats can take us all."
Honorine had to intervene with all her authority and Véronique was obliged to distribute money. And the funeral was hurriedly conducted. Not far away was an old chapel, carefully restored by M. d'Hergemont, where a priest came once a month from Pont-l'Abbé to say mass. Beside it was the ancient cemetery of the abbots of Sarek. The two bodies were buried here; and an old man, who in ordinary times acted as sacristan, mumbled45 the blessing46.
All the people seemed smitten47 with madness. Their voices and movements were spasmodic. They were obsessed48 with the fixed49 idea of leaving the island and paid no attention to Véronique, who knelt a little way off, praying and weeping.
It was all over before eight o'clock. Men and women made their way down across the island. Véronique, who felt as though she were living in a nightmare world where events followed upon one another without logic50 and with no connected sequence, went back to Honorine, whose feeble condition had prevented her from attending her master's funeral.
"I'm feeling better," said the Breton woman. "We shall go to-day or to-morrow and we shall go with François."
Véronique protested angrily; but Honorine repeated:
"With François, I tell you, and with M. Stéphane. And as soon as possible. I also want to go . . . and to take you with me . . . and François too. There is death in the island. Death is the master here. We must leave Sarek. We shall all go."
Véronique did not wish to thwart51 her. But at nine o'clock hurried steps were heard outside. It was Corréjou, coming from the village. On reaching the door he shouted:
"They've stolen your motor-boat, Ma'me Honorine! She's disappeared!"
"Impossible!" said Honorine.
But the sailor, all out of breath, declared:
"She's disappeared. I suspected something this morning early. But I expect I had had a glass too much; I did not give it another thought. Others have since seen what I did. The painter has been cut . . . . It happened during the night. And they've made off. No one saw or heard them."
The two women exchanged glances; and the same thought occurred to both of them: François and Stéphane Maroux had taken to flight.
Honorine muttered between her teeth:
"Yes, yes, that's it: he understands how to work the boat."
Véronique perhaps felt a certain relief at knowing that the boy had gone and that she would not see him again. But Honorine, seized with a renewed fear, exclaimed:
"Then . . . then what are we to do?"
"You must leave at once, Ma'me Honorine. The boats are ready . . . everybody's packing up. There'll be no one in the village by eleven o'clock."
Véronique interposed:
"Honorine's not in a condition to travel."
"Yes, I am; I'm better," the Breton woman declared.
"No, it would be ridiculous. Let us wait a day or two . . . . Come back in two days, Corréjou."
She pushed the sailor towards the door. He, for that matter, was only too anxious to go:
"Very well," he said, "that'll do: I'll come back the day after to-morrow. Besides, we can't take everything with us. We shall have to come back now and again to fetch our things . . . . Good-bye, Ma'me Honorine; take care of yourself."
And he ran outside.
"Corréjou! Corréjou!"
Honorine was sitting up in bed and calling to him in despair:
"No, no, don't go away, Corréjou! . . . Wait for me and carry me to your boat."
She listened; and, as the man did not return, she tried to get up:
"I'm frightened," she said. "I don't want to be left alone."
Véronique held her down:
"You're not going to be left alone, Honorine. I shan't leave you."
There was an actual struggle between the two women; and Honorine, pushed back on her bed by main force, moaned, helplessly:
"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . . The island is accursed . . . . It's tempting52 Providence53 to remain behind . . . . Maguennoc's death was a warning . . . . I'm frightened . . . ."
She was more or less delirious54, but still retained a half-lucidity which enabled her to intersperse55 a few intelligible56 and reasonable remarks among the incoherent phrases which revealed her superstitious57 Breton soul.
She gripped Véronique by her two shoulders and declared:
"I tell you, the island's cursed. Maguennoc confessed as much himself one day: 'Sarek is one of the gates of hell,' he said. 'The gate is closed now,but, on the day when it opens, every misfortune you can think of will be upon it like a squall.'"
She calmed herself a little, at Véronique's entreaty58, and continued, in a lower voice, which grew fainter as she spoke59:
"He loved the island, though . . . as we all do. At such times he would speak of it in a way which I did not understand: 'The gate is a double one, Honorine, and it also opens on Paradise.' Yes, yes, the island was good to live in . . . . We loved it . . . . Maguennoc made flowers grow on it . . . . Oh, those flowers! They were enormous: three times as tall . . . and as beautiful . . ."
The minutes passed slowly. The bedroom was at the extreme left of the house, just above the rocks which overhung the sea and separated from them only by the width of the road.
Véronique sat down at the window, with her eyes fixed on the white waves which grew still more troubled as the wind blew more strongly. The sun was rising. In the direction of the village she saw nothing except a steep headland. But, beyond the belt of foam60 studded with the black points of the reefs, the view embraced the deserted61 plains of the Atlantic.
"They say that the gate is a stone . . . and that it comes from very far away, from a foreign country. It's the God-Stone. They also say that it's a precious stone . . . the colour of gold and silver mixed . . . . The God-Stone . . . . The stone that gives life or death . . . . Maguennoc saw it . . . . He opened the gate and put his arm through . . . . And his hand . . . his hand was burnt to a cinder63."
Véronique felt oppressed. Fear was gradually overcoming her also, like the oozing64 and soaking of stagnant65 water. The horrible events of the last few days, of which she had been a terrified witness, seemed to evoke66 others yet more dreadful, which she anticipated like an inevitable67 hurricane that is bound to carry off everything in its headlong course.
She expected them. She had no doubt that they would come, unloosed by the fatal power which was multiplying its terrible assaults upon her.
"Don't you see the boats?" asked Honorine.
"No," she said, "you can't see them from here."
"Yes, you can: they are sure to come this way. They are heavy boats: and there's a wider passage at the point."
The next moment, Véronique saw the bow of a boat project beyond the end of the headland. The boat lay low in the water, being very heavily laden68, crammed69 with crates70 and parcels on which women and children were seated. Four men were rowing lustily.
"That's Corréjou's," said Honorine, who had left her bed, half-dressed. "And there's the other: look."
The second boat came into view, equally burdened. Only three men were rowing, with a woman to help them.
Both boats were too far away—perhaps seven or eight hundred yards—to allow the faces of the occupants to be seen. And no sound of voices rose from those heavy hulls71 with their cargoes72 of wretchedness, which were fleeing from death.
"Oh dear, oh dear!" moaned Honorine. "If only they escape this hell!"
"What can you be afraid of, Honorine? They are in no danger."
"Yes, they are, as long as they have not left the island."
"But they have left it."
"But the sea is not rough."
"There's more than the sea. It's not the sea that's the enemy."
"Then what is?"
"I don't know . . . . I don't know . . . ."
The two boats veered74 round at the southern point. Before them lay two channels, which Honorine pointed75 out by the name of two reefs, the Devil's Rock and the Sarek Tooth.
It at once became evident that Corréjou had chosen the Devil's Channel.
"Ah, all the devil's machinations will be thwarted78, Madame Véronique! I really believe that we shall be saved, you and I and all the people of Sarek."
Véronique remained silent. Her depression continued and was all the more overwhelming because she could attribute it only to vague presentiments79 which she was powerless to fight against. She had drawn80 an imaginary line up to which the danger threatened, would continue to threaten, and where it still persisted; and this line Corréjou had not yet reached.
Honorine was shivering with fever. She mumbled:
"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . ."
"Nonsense," declared Véronique, pulling herself together, "It's absurd! Where can the danger come from?"
"Oh," cried the Breton woman, "what's that? What does it mean?"
"What? What is it?"
They had both pressed their foreheads to the panes81 and were staring wildly before them. Down below, something had so to speak shot out from the Devil's Rock. And they at once recognized the motor-boat which they had used the day before and which according to Corréjou had disappeared.
"François! François!" cried Honorine, in stupefaction. "François and Monsieur Stéphane!"
Véronique recognized the boy. He was standing in the bow of the motor-boat and making signs to the people in the two rowing-boats. The men answered by waving their oars82, while the women gesticulated. In spite of Véronique's opposition83, Honorine opened both halves of the window; and they could hear the sound of voices above the throbbing84 of the motor, though they could not catch a single word.
"What does it mean?" repeated Honorine. "François and M. Stéphane! . . . Why did they not make for the mainland?"
"Perhaps," Véronique explained, "they were afraid of being observed and questioned on landing."
"No, they are known, especially François, who often used to go with me. Besides, the identity-papers are in the boat. No, they were waiting there, hidden behind the rock."
"But, Honorine, if they were hiding, why do they show themselves now?"
"Ah, that's just it, that's just it! . . . I don't understand . . . and it strikes me as odd . . . . What must Corréjou and the others think?"
The two boats, of which the second was now gliding85 in the wake of the first, had almost stopped. All the passengers seemed to be looking round at the motor-boat, which came rapidly in their direction and slackened speed when she was level with the second boat. In this way, she continued on a line parallel with that of the two boats and fifteen or twenty yards away.
"I don't understand . . . . I don't understand," muttered Honorine.
The motor had been cut off and the motor-boat now very slowly reached the space that separated the two fish-boats.
And suddenly the two women saw François stoop and then stand up again and draw his right arm back, as though he were going to throw something.
And at the same time Stéphane Maroux acted in the same way.
Then the unexpected, terrifying thing happened.
"Oh!" cried Véronique.
She hid her eyes for a second, but at once raised her head again and saw the hideous sight in all its horror.
Two things had been thrown across the little space, one from the bow, flung by François, the other from the stern, flung by Stéphane Maroux.
And two bursts of fire at once shot up from the two boats, followed by two whirls of smoke.
The explosions re-echoed. For a moment, nothing of what happened amid that black cloud was visible. Then the curtain parted, blown aside by the wind, and Véronique and Honorine saw the two boats swiftly sinking, while their occupants jumped into the sea.
The sight, the infernal sight, did not last long. They saw, standing on one of the buoys86 that marked the channel, a woman holding a child in her arms, without moving: then some motionless bodies, no doubt killed by the explosion; then two men fighting, mad perhaps. And all this went down with the boats.
Honorine and Véronique, struck dumb with terror, had not uttered a single word. The thing surpassed the worst that their anguished90 minds could have conceived.
When it was all over, Honorine put her hand to her head and, in a hollow voice which Véronique was never to forget, said:
"My head's bursting. Oh, the poor people of Sarek! They were my friends, the friends of my childhood; and I shall never see them again . . . . The sea never gives up its dead at Sarek: it keeps them. It has its coffins all ready: thousands and thousands of hidden coffins . . . . Oh, my head is bursting! . . . I shall go mad . . . mad like François, my poor François!"
Véronique did not answer. She was grey in the face. With clutching fingers she clung to the balcony, gazing downwards91 as one gazes into an abyss into which one is about to fling oneself. What would her son do? Would he save those people, whose shouts of distress92 now reached her ears, would he save them without delay? One may have fits of madness; but the attacks pass away at the sight of certain things.
The motor-boat had backed at first to avoid the eddies. François and Stéphane, whose red cap and white cap were still visible, were standing in the same positions at the bow and the stern; and they held in their hands . . . what? The two women could not see clearly, because of the distance, what they held in their hands. It looked like two rather long sticks.
"Poles, to help them," suggested Véronique.
"Or guns," said Honorine.
The black specks were still floating. There were nine of them, the nine heads of the survivors93, whose arms also the two women saw moving from time to time and whose cries for help they heard.
Some were hurriedly moving away from the motor-boat, but four were swimming towards it; and, of those four, two could not fail to reach it.
Suddenly François and Stéphane made the same movement, the movement of marksmen taking aim.
There were two flashes, followed by the sound of a single report.
The heads of the two swimmers disappeared.
"Oh, the monsters!" stammered Véronique, almost swooning and falling on her knees.
Honorine, beside her, began screaming:
"François! François!"
Her voice did not carry, first because it was too weak and then the wind was in her face. But she continued:
"François! François!"
She next stumbled across the room and into the corridor, in search of something, and returned to the window, still shouting:
"François! François!"
She had ended by finding the shell which she used as a signal. But, on lifting it to her mouth, she found that she could produce only dull and indistinct sounds from it:
"Oh, curse the thing!" she cried, flinging the shell away. "I have no strength left . . . . François! François!"
She was terrible to look at, with her hair all in disorder94 and her face covered with the sweat of fever. Véronique implored95 her:
"Please, Honorine, please!"
"But look at them, look at them!"
The motor-boat was drifting forward down below, with the two marksmen at their posts, holding their guns ready for murder.
The survivors fled. Two of them hung back in the rear.
These two were aimed at. Their heads disappeared from view.
"But look at them!" Honorine said, explosively, in a hoarse96 voice. "They're hunting them down! They're killing them like game! . . . Oh, the poor people of Sarek! . . ."
Véronique was writhing97 in despair. She shook the rails of the balcony, as she might have shaken the bars of a cage in which she was imprisoned98.
Suddenly she felt herself seized by the throat and saw, close to her own face, the distorted face of the Breton woman.
"He's your son!" spluttered Honorine. "Curse you! You are the monster's mother and you shall be punished for it!"
"The cross, yes, the cross! You shall be crucified, with nails through your hands! . . . What a punishment, nails through your hands!"
She was mad.
Véronique released herself and tried to hold the other motionless: but Honorine, filled with malicious101 rage, threw her off, making her lose balance, and began to climb into the balcony.
She remained standing outside the window, lifting up her arms and once more shouting:
"François! François!"
The first floor was not so high on this side of the house, owing to the slope of the ground. Honorine jumped into the path below, crossed it, pushed her way through the shrubs102 that lined it and ran to the ridge103 of rocks which formed the cliff and overhung the sea.
She stopped for a moment, thrice called out the name of the child whom she had reared and flung herself headlong into the deep.
In the distance, the man-hunt drew to a finish.
Then the motor-boat with François and Stéphane on board fled towards the coast of Brittany, towards the beaches of Beg-Meil and Concarneau.
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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cataclysms
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| n.（突然降临的）大灾难( cataclysm的名词复数 ) | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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motives
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accomplice
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instigator
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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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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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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32
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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33
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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34
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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35
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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36
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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37
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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38
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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39
lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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40
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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41
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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42
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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43
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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45
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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50
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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51
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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52
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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53
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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intersperse
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| vt.散布，散置，点缀 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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58
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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59
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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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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hulls
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| 船体( hull的名词复数 )； 船身； 外壳； 豆荚 | |
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cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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75
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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76
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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77
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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78
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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79
presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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80
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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81
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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82
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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83
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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84
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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85
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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86
buoys
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| n.浮标( buoy的名词复数 )；航标；救生圈；救生衣v.使浮起( buoy的第三人称单数 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
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87
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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88
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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89
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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90
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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91
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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92
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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93
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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97
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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98
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
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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100
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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101
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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102
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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103
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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104
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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