At the landing-stage he surrendered himself to a white-robed and barefoot native runner, who claimed to represent Ward’s Anglo-Indian Hotel, and this functionary5 at once bundled him into a ricksha which started off at a trot6. So unfamiliar7 a mode of locomotion8 revived some of Elliott’s primal9 expectations of the East, and the crowds that filled the street from house-front to house-front helped to strengthen them. The populace, as Elliott observed with surprise, were nearly as black as the negroes at home, clad in every variety and colour of costume, brilliant as a garden of tulips, and through the dense10 mass his ricksha man forced a passage by screaming unintelligible11 abuse at the top of his voice. Occasionally a black victoria clove12 its slow way past him, bearing a white-clad Englishman, who gazed unseeingly over the swarming13 mass; and Elliott for the first time breathed the smell of the East, that compound of heat and dust and rancid butter and perspiring14 humanity that somehow strangely suggests the yellow marigold flowers that hang in limp clusters in the marketplaces of all Bengal.
At the hotel, a gigantic and imposing15 structure, he was received by a Eurasian in a frock coat and no shoes, who assigned him to a vast bedroom, cool and darkened and almost large enough to play tennis in. Elliott examined the unfamiliar appurtenances with some curiosity, and then took a delicious dip in the bathroom that opened from his chamber16. He then changed his clothes and went down-stairs, determined17 to lose no time in visiting the United States Consulate19.
The mate of the Clara McClay, as the only surviving officer, was required to report the circumstances of the loss of his ship to the American consul18; and self-interest, as much as law, should equally have impelled20 him to do so. For by reporting the foundering21 of the steamer in deep water he would clear himself of responsibility, and at the same time close the case and check any possible investigation22 into the whereabouts of the wreck23.
But Elliott learned at once that the white man in India is not supposed to exert himself. The manager of the house, to whom he applied24 for information, placed him in a long cane25 chair while a ricksha was being called, and then installed him in the baby-carriage conveyance26, giving elaborate instructions in the vernacular27 to the native motor. And again the vivid panorama28 of the streets unrolled before Elliott’s eyes under the blinding sun-blaze,—the closely packed crowd of white head-dresses, the nude29 torsos, bronze and black, the gorgeous silks, and violent-hued cottons rolling slowly over the earthen pavement that was packed hard by millions of bare feet.
The gridiron shield with the eagle looked home-like to Elliott when he set eyes on it, but he found the official representative of the United States to be a brass30-coloured Eurasian, who seemed to have some recollection of the Clara McClay or her mate, but was either unable or unwilling31 to impart any information. He was the consular32 secretary; the consul was out at the moment, but he returned just as Elliot was turning away in disappointment. He was a rubicund33 gentleman of middle age, from Ohio, as Elliott presently learned, and proud of the fact. He wore a broad straw hat of American design—Heaven knows how he had procured34 it in that land—and, to Elliott’s unbounded amazement35, he was accompanied by his own steamer acquaintance, the Alabaman Sevier.
Elliott nodded to Sevier, trying to conceal36 his consternation37, and was for going away immediately, but the secretary was, after all, only too anxious to give assistance.
“Be pleased to wait a moment, sir. This is the consul. Mr. Guiger, this gentleman is asking if we know anything of the position of the mate of the wrecked38 American steamer, called the Clara McClay.”
“His position? By Jupiter, I wish I knew it!” ejaculated the consul, mopping his face, but showing a more than physical warmth. “This other gentleman here has just been asking me the same thing, and I’ve had a dozen wires from the owners in Philadelphia.”
Elliott was thunderstruck at this revelation of Sevier’s interest in the matter, but it was too late to draw back.
“I was asked to make inquiries39 by relatives of one of the crew,” he said, mendaciously40. “Has the mate showed up here at all?”
“Showed up? Of course he did. He had to, by Jupiter! But it was his business to keep in touch with me till the case was gone into and settled. He gave me an address on Malabar Hill,—too swell41 a locality for a sailorman, thinks I,—and, sure enough, when I sent there for him, they had never heard of him. I’ve not set eyes on him since. He’ll lose his ticket, that’s all.”
“What sort of a report did he make?”
“Why, nothing. Said the ship was rotten, and her cargo42 shifted in a gale43 and some of her rivets44 must have drawn45, and she foundered46. Every one went down but himself,—all drunk, I suppose. But he didn’t even make a sworn statement. Said he’d come back next day, and I was in a hurry myself, and I let him go, like a fool.”
“You don’t know whether he’s still in the city?”
“I don’t know anything. I’ve set the police to look for him, but these black-and-tan cops don’t amount to anything. He may be half-way to Australia by this time. Like as not he is.”
“Where did he say his ship foundered?” asked Sevier, speaking for the first time.
“Somewhere in the Mozambique Channel, in deep water. He didn’t know exactly. Along about latitude47 twelve, south, he said. Went down like a lump of lead.”
“Well, if the man can’t be found, I suppose that’s the end of it,” he said, carelessly, and turned away again.
“Sorry I can’t help you, gentlemen,” responded the consul. “If I get any news, I’ll let you know. You don’t happen to have brought out any American newspapers, do you—Chicago ones, for choice?”
Elliott was devoid49 of these luxuries, and Sevier followed him out to the street, where the ricksha was still waiting.
“Is that your perambulator?” inquired the Alabaman. “Let’s walk a little. The streets aren’t so crowded here.”
“It’s undignified for a white man to walk in this country, but I’ll make my ricksha man follow me,” said Elliott. “Besides, I couldn’t find my way back to the hotel without him.”
They walked for several minutes in silence down the side of the street that was shaded by tall buildings of European architecture.
“Were you ever at a New Orleans Mardi Gras? Hanged if this town doesn’t remind me of it!” Sevier suddenly broke silence. “By the way, I didn’t know that you were interested in the Clara McClay.”
“I’m not,” said Elliott, on the defensive50. “I was simply making inquiries on behalf of other people, to get some details about her loss. You seem to have more interest than that in her yourself.”
“Oh, my interest is a purely51 business one,” replied Sevier, lightly. “I know her owners pretty well, and they wired me from Philadelphia to find out something about her. I found the cablegram waiting for me when I got here. Funny thing that the mate should disappear that way. Something crooked52, eh?”
“Possibly. Queer things happen on the high seas. It looks as if he were afraid of something.”
“But the Clara McClay didn’t run ashore,” Elliott reminded him. “She foundered in deep water, you know.”
“Oh, yes, she foundered in deep water,” drawled Sevier. “Have you got the spot marked on your map?”
This attack was so sudden and so unexpected that Elliott floundered.
“That map you have in your pocket, with her course marked in red,” Sevier pursued, relentlessly54.
“That map you saw on the steamer? That wasn’t a chart of the Clara McClay’s course. Or, at least,” Elliott went on, recovering his wind, “I don’t suppose it is, accurately55. I drew it to see if I could make out where she must have sunk, by a sort of dead reckoning. You see, I felt a certain interest in her on account of the inquiries I was commissioned to make. Nobody knows exactly what her course was.”
“Nobody but the mate, and he’s skipped the country. Well, I hope you find him, for the sake of the bereaved56 kinfolk.”
He turned a humourous and incredulous glance at Elliott, and its invitation to frankness was unmistakable. Had Elliott been alone in the affair he might have responded, and taken his companion as a partner. But he had not the right to do that; there were men enough to share the plunder57 already; but he was possessed58 with curiosity to learn what Sevier knew, and, above all, what he wanted. Sevier had learned nothing from Bennett; he could have learned nothing from the mate, else he would not be in pursuit of him. How then could he know what cargo the Clara McClay had carried?
They walked a little further, talking of the features of interest like a pair of Cook’s tourists, while the ricksha man marched stolidly59 behind.
“Queer that Burke didn’t know where she went down!” said Sevier, as if to himself.
“Who’s Burke?” asked Elliott, on the alert this time.
“The mate of the Clara McClay. Didn’t you know his name? I got it from the owners. They’re wild about him; swear they’ll have his certificate taken from him. It seems he hasn’t reported a word to them, and all they know is a newspaper item saying that he was picked up from the wreck.”
“They told me that in Philadelphia, before I left,” Sevier replied, imperturbably61.
This was just possible, but, after a rapid mental calculation of dates, Elliott decided62 that it was unlikely. Besides, why should the owners have cabled, if they had seen their messenger just before he sailed? But he had already arrived at the conviction that Sevier’s explanation of his interest in the treasure-ship was as fictitious63 as his own.
“Isn’t it likely,” he said, easily, “that the mate was drunk and navigated64 her out of her course, and ran her ashore? He knows that he’s responsible for her loss, and he’s afraid to face a court of inquiry65.”
“He’ll sure lose his certificate anyway, if he doesn’t show up. Besides, he didn’t run her ashore. She went down in deep water.”
“Sure enough, she went down in deep water,” Elliott acquiesced66. A strong sense of the futility67 of this fencing stole over him, and he turned abruptly68 and beckoned69 to his ricksha.
“It’s too hot to walk. I’m going back to my hotel—the Anglo-Indian. Come around and look me up. Are you going to search for your lost mate?”
“Oh, dear, no! I’m not paid for doing that. Besides, I’m going up the country in a day or so to get stuff for my articles.”
He watched Elliott into his ricksha, and walked off, Elliott wondered vainly where.
He wondered also whether he ought not to keep close to this smooth-spoken pseudo-journalist, who, he felt sure, was also on the track of the treasure-ship. But this would hamper70 him fatally in his quest for the elusive71 mate Burke, and this quest was to be Elliott’s next affair.
But he had next to no idea just where or how he would look. He was an inlander; he knew little of the ways of seafaring men ashore, and nothing at all of this particular city. He plunged72 boldly into the search, however, and, as a preliminary, he spent a day in roaming about the waterfront of Mazagon Bay, entering into conversation with such white seamen73 as he came across. But he was acutely conscious that he made a bungle74 of this. These men were too far outside his experience for him to enter into easy relations with them. His immaculate white flannels75 were also against him; he received either too much deference76 or too little, and he suspected that he was taken for a detective or a customs officer. He decided that he would have to assume a less respectable appearance.
But every one he met professed77 total ignorance of the Clara McClay and her mate. Most of the men were transient; they had been in Bombay for only a few days or weeks, and the arrival of a single man, even the survivor78 of a wreck, is too slight an episode to leave any mark upon such a port as Bombay, where the shipping79 of a whole world is gathered. But a vessel80 is a different thing, and Elliott learned—it was the whole result of his day’s work—that the Italian steamer Andrea Sforzia, which had picked up Burke’s boat, had sailed a month ago for Cape81 Town.
Had Burke gone with her? No one knew. Elliott thought it most probable; and in that case the rich grave of the gold-ship must be rifled already. A feeling of sick failure spread through Elliott’s system as he realized that the whole quest might have been in vain, even before they left America. But he cabled to Henninger at Zanzibar:
“Steamer Andrea Sforzia sailed Cape Town about April 10th, likely with Burke.”
Still it might be that the mate had not sailed with the Italian steamer, after all, and, while awaiting a reply from Zanzibar, Elliott resumed his detective work. It was good to pass the anxious time, if it led to no other result. He hired a room in a cheap sailors’ hotel in Mazagon, where he went every morning to change his white clothes for a dirty, bluish dungaree slop-suit, which he bought at a low clothing store, and, thus suitably attired82, he was able to pursue his explorations among the tortuous83 ways of the old Portuguese84 settlement and attract no attention so long as he kept his mouth shut. These wanderings he often carried far into the night, returning finally to his dirty room to resume the garb85 of respectability.
He saw many strange things in these explorations among the groggeries, dives, and sailors’ boarding-houses, where the seamen of every maritime86 race on earth herded87 together in their stifling88 quarter. He sat in earthen-floored drinking-shops, where Lascars, Norse, Yankees, Englishmen, and Italians gulped89 down poisonous native liquors like water, and quarrelled in a babel of tongues; he leaned over fan-tan tables in huge, filthy90 rooms that had been the palaces of merchant princes; and nightly he saw the tired dancing-girls from the Hills posture91 obscenely before an audience of white, yellow, and brown sea scum, ferociously92 drunk or stupid with opium93. More than once he saw knives drawn and used, and the blood spurt94 dark in the candle-light; and once he had to run for it to avoid being gathered in by the police along with his companions. But nowhere could he hear anything of what he sought, and he could find no one who would admit having seen the mate of the Clara McClay.
He had received no reply from Henninger, and this, perhaps, illogically reassured95 him. After a week he had ceased to expect any, but by this time he had well ceased to believe that Burke was still in Bombay. If he were there, Elliott did not believe that he could be found, and he regretted anew that he had not obtained a detailed96 description of the man from Bennett. He visited the American consul again, but that official had no further news, and was able to describe the mate only as “a big fellow, with a big beard turning gray,” which was indefinite enough.
After all, Elliott reflected, the man would be likely to change his name and to keep apart from other seamen. Surely, if he had been going to fit out a wrecking97 expedition, he would have done it long since, but such an enterprise would certainly have left memories upon the waterfront. Elliott could not learn that anything of the sort had been done. Possibly Burke had gone elsewhere to launch his expedition; very likely he had no money, and had gone elsewhere to obtain it.
Elliott grew very weary with turning over all these possibilities, and almost disheartened, but he persisted in his perambulations about the sailors’ quarter. He was beginning to feel the deadly lassitude which stealthily grows upon the unacclimated white man in the tropics, and he would probably have given up the quest in another week, but for a lucky chance.
The crush of the crowd had elbowed him into a corner beside a tiny second-hand98 clothes-stall near the landing-place of the coasting steamers, and he gazed idly at the foul-looking seamen’s clothing—caps, oilskins, sea boots, cotton trousers—that almost filled the recess99 in the wall that served for a shop. In the centre lounged the shopman, apparently100 half Eurasian and half English Jew, who looked as if he clothed himself from his own stock in trade.
As Elliott was trying to disengage himself from the crowd, he knocked down a suit of oilskins, and stooped to pick it up. It was an excellent suit, though considerably101 worn, and as he rescued the heavy sou’wester hat, his eye was caught by rude black lettering on the under side of the peak. It had been done in India ink, and read “J. Burke, S. S. Clara McClay.”
Elliott stared at the initials, dazzled by his good luck. They must be the oilskins of the missing mate, who had sold them there. Who else could have brought clothing from the wreck to Bombay? The shopman, scenting102 trade, had crept forward, and was sidling and fawning103 at Elliott’s shoulder.
“Want nice oilskins, Sahib? Ver’ scheap. You shall haf dem for ten rupee.”
“I’ll give you five,” said Elliott, carelessly, hanging up the cap.
“Look here,” said Elliott. “I don’t want the oilskins, but I think they used to belong to a friend of mine, and I’ll give you eight rupees if you’ll tell me where you got them.”
The merchant wrinkled his brows, undoubtedly105 pondering whether he was in danger of compromising any thief of his acquaintance.
“I remember,” he presently announced. “You gif me ten rupee?”
“Ten it is.”
“I buy dem more than two weeks ago from your friend’s kitmatgar, Hurris Chunder.”
Elliott’s heart sank again. “My friend’s a sailorman, and wouldn’t have a servant.”
“Hurris Chunder say his master gif dem to him,” insisted the Jew.
“Can you find Hurris Chunder?”
“Here’s your ten rupees,” said Elliott. “I’ll give you ten more if you’ll manage to have Hurris Chunder here to-night, and he shall have another ten for telling me what he knows. Does it go?”
“Yes,” responded the trader, with lightning comprehension of Western slang. “The Sahib will find Hurris Chunder here to-night. At ten o’clock.”
Elliott had already learned the indefinite notions of the East regarding time, and he did not care to show the impatience107 he felt, so he did not arrive at his appointment till nearly eleven o’clock. The yellow Jew led him to the rear of the tiny shop and introduced him through an unsuspected door into a small chamber littered with rags, old clothes, rubbish of copper108 and brass, and dirty-looking apparatus109. It was here that the merchant ate and slept, and in the middle of the floor a white-clad figure was squatting110, smoking a brass pipe.
“This is Hurris Chunder, Sahib,” said the Jew, eagerly.
The native, a golden-complexioned young man, with a somewhat sleepy Buddha-like face, put down his pipe, and bowed without getting up.
“Very good,” said Elliott. “Here’s your ten rupees, Israel. Now, get out. I want to have a little private talk with our friend.”
“Now, then, Hurris, tell me the truth. Where did you steal those oilskins?”
Hurris Chunder made a deprecating gesture. “May the Presence pardon me,” he said, in soft and excellent English. “I did not steal them. My master, Baker112 Sahib, gave them to me.”
“Baker Sahib, indeed!” Elliott murmured. “Where is your master? What did he look like?”
“He was a tall, lean, strong sahib, and when he first came he had a great gray beard. He lived for many days at the Planters’ Hotel, and I was unworthily his kitmatgar.”
This was another surprise, for the Planters’ was an excellent, quiet, and rather high-priced hotel, and the mate was presumably short of funds.
“He had money, then?”
“He had much money, English money. He was a very generous Sahib.”
“Well, you’ll find me a generous Sahib, too, if you act on the level. Here’s your ten rupees. Baker Sahib is at the Planters’, then?”
“No, Sahib, he went away. He gave me the oilskins when he went. He sailed on a ship, a great black steamer. He went to England.”
“To England? Are you sure it wasn’t Africa?”
“Yes, Sahib, to Africa.”
“What port was she bound for?”
“Sahib, before God, I do not know. I think London.”
“London? You said Africa. Wasn’t it America?”
“The Sahib is right.”
“Or Australia?”
“If the Sahib pleases, it is so,” was the submissive response.
“You old fraud!” said Elliott. “You don’t know where he went. Are you sure he went away at all?”
“Yes, Sahib. He cut off his great beard, and I took his luggage to the ship for him,—a great black steamer, full of English. I do not know the name of the ship.”
“Cut off his beard, eh? And you don’t know what ship it was, or where she went? Well, never mind, I can find that out myself. Your knowledge is distinctly limited, Hurris, but you’re a good boy, and I believe you’ve given me the key to the situation. It’s worth another rupee or two. Good-bye.”
He tossed the native three more rupees, and went to change his clothes, bursting with excited impatience. To-morrow he would know the mate’s destination.
As early as possible the next morning, he sought the Planters’ Hotel, and found that Baker Sahib had indeed been there since the 18th of March. This was the day after the arrival of the Andrea Sforzia at Bombay, and the coincidence of the dates was corroborative113 evidence. He had left on the 27th of March, and his destination was unknown at the hotel.
An examination of the shipping-lists, however, showed that on March 27th three passenger steamers had sailed from Bombay,—the Punjaub, for London; the Imperadora, for Southampton, and the Prince of Burmah for Hongkong. Elliott hastened to the city passenger offices of these lines, and begged permission to inspect the passenger-lists of their ships sailing on that day. The sheets of the Punjaub and of the Imperadora proved devoid of interest, but half-way down the list of the Prince of Burmah’s saloon passengers he came upon the name of Henry Baker. He was booked through to Hongkong.
The amazing improbability of this almost staggered Elliott. If the mate knew the secret of the treasure, why should he fly thus to the very antipodes; and if he knew no guilty secrets, why should he have secreted114 himself in Bombay, and cut off his beard for purposes of disguise?
Were Baker and Burke identical, after all? But the American consul’s brief description of the man tallied115 with that of Hurris Chunder, and Baker had arrived at the Planters’ Hotel the day after Burke had arrived in Bombay. Baker had brought with him oilskins from the wrecked ship, from which he alone had been picked up at that time.
It must be the mate, Elliott thought. In any case, Baker must know things of importance to the gold hunters, and Elliott cabled again to Zanzibar:
“Mate sailed Hongkong. Am following.”
Three days later he sailed for Hongkong himself. Up to the very moment of clearing port he was tormented116 with apprehensions117 that Sevier would appear on board. But, whatever were the researches of the Alabaman, they were evidently being conducted in a different quarter, and the weight gradually lifted from Elliott’s mind as the steamer ploughed slowly down the bay, past the white moored118 monitors and the little rocky islets of the peninsula. The treasure hunt had turned out a man hunt, but he hoped that he was upon the last stage of the long stern chase.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
maze
|
|
| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
minarets
|
|
| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
medley
|
|
| n.混合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
functionary
|
|
| n.官员；公职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
trot
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
locomotion
|
|
| n.运动，移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
primal
|
|
| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
clove
|
|
| n.丁香味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
swarming
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
perspiring
|
|
| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
consul
|
|
| n.领事；执政官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
consulate
|
|
| n.领事馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
foundering
|
|
| v.创始人( founder的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
conveyance
|
|
| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
vernacular
|
|
| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
panorama
|
|
| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
nude
|
|
| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
consular
|
|
| a.领事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
rubicund
|
|
| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
mendaciously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
41
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
cargo
|
|
| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
rivets
|
|
| 铆钉( rivet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
foundered
|
|
| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
latitude
|
|
| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
devoid
|
|
| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
defensive
|
|
| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
relentlessly
|
|
| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
bereaved
|
|
| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
plunder
|
|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
stolidly
|
|
| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
imperturbably
|
|
| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
navigated
|
|
| v.给（船舶、飞机等）引航，导航( navigate的过去式和过去分词 )；（从海上、空中等）横越；横渡；飞跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
acquiesced
|
|
| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
futility
|
|
| n.无用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
hamper
|
|
| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
elusive
|
|
| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
seamen
|
|
| n.海员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
bungle
|
|
| v.搞糟；n.拙劣的工作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
flannels
|
|
| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
survivor
|
|
| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
shipping
|
|
| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
cape
|
|
| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
tortuous
|
|
| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
Portuguese
|
|
| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
garb
|
|
| n.服装，装束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
maritime
|
|
| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
herded
|
|
| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
stifling
|
|
| a.令人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
gulped
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
filthy
|
|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
posture
|
|
| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
ferociously
|
|
| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
opium
|
|
| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
spurt
|
|
| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
detailed
|
|
| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
wrecking
|
|
| 破坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
second-hand
|
|
| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
scenting
|
|
| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
fawning
|
|
| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
Buddha
|
|
| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
avid
|
|
| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
copper
|
|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
apparatus
|
|
| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
squatting
|
|
| 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。 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
scuttled
|
|
| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
baker
|
|
| n.面包师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
corroborative
|
|
| adj.确证（性）的，确凿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
secreted
|
|
| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
tallied
|
|
| v.计算，清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
moored
|
|
| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |