It seemed a pity that the new chums for New Zealand didn't have a chance to see Sydney after coming so far and getting so near. It struck them that way too. They saw Melbourne, which seemed another injustice3 to the old city. However, nothing matters much nowadays, and they might see Sydney in happier times.
They looked like new chums, especially the “furst clarsters,” and there were two or three Scotsmen among them who looked like Scots, and talked like it too; also an Irishman. Great Britain and Ireland do not seem to be learning anything fresh about Australia. We had a yarn4 with one of these new arrivals, and got talking about the banks. It turned out that he was a radical5. He spat6 over the side and said:
“It's a something shame the way things is carried on! Now, look here, a banker can rob hundreds of wimmin and children an' widders and orfuns, and nothin' is done to him; but if a poor man only embezzles7 a shilling he gets transported to the colonies for life.” The italics are ours, but the words were his.
We explained to this new chum that transportation was done away with long ago, as far as Australia was concerned, that no more convicts were sent out here—only men who ought to be; and he seemed surprised. He did not call us a liar8, but he looked as if he thought that we were prevaricating9. We were glad that he didn't say so, for he was a bigger man. New chums are generally more robust10 than Australians.
Shortly afterwards another man pointed to another wrong part of the cliffs and observed incidentally:
“That's where the Dunbar was wrecked.”
Pretty soon a third man came along and pointed to a third wrong part of the cliff, and remarked casually14:
“That's where the Dunbar was wrecked.”
We moved aft and met the fourth mate, who jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the cliffs in general, and muttered condescendingly:
“That's where the Dunbar was wrecked.”
It was not long before a woman turned round and asked “Was that the place where the Dunbar was wrecked, please?”
We went for'ard and met an old sailor, who glared at us, jerked his thumb at the coast and growled18:
“That's where the Dunbar went down.”
Then we went below; but we felt a slight relief when he said “went down” instead of “was wrecked.”
It is doubtful whether a passenger boat ever cleared Sydney Heads since the wild night of that famous wreck12 without someone pointing to the wrong part of the cliffs, and remarking:
“That's where the Dunbar was wrecked.”
The Dunbar fiend is inseparable from Australian coasting steamers.
We travelled second-class in the interests of journalism19. You get more points for copy in the steerage. It was a sacrifice; but we hope to profit by it some day.
There were about fifty male passengers, including half a dozen New Zealand shearers, two of whom came on board drunk—their remarks for the first night mainly consisted of “gory.” “Gory” is part of the Australian language now—a big part.
The others were chiefly tradesmen, labourers, clerks and bagmen, driven out of Australia by the hard times there, and glad, no doubt, to get away. There was a jeweller on board, of course, and his name was Moses or Cohen. If it wasn't it should have been—or Isaacs. His christian21 name was probably Benjamin. We called him Jacobs. He passed away most of his time on board in swopping watch lies with the other passengers and good-naturedly spoiling their Waterburys.
One commercial traveller shipped with a flower in his buttonhole. His girl gave it to him on the wharf23, and told him to keep it till it faded, and then press it. She was a barmaid. She thought he was “going saloon,” but he came forward as soon as the wharf was out of sight. He gave the flower to the stewardess25, and told us about these things one moonlight night during the voyage.
There was another—a well-known Sydney man—whose friends thought he was going saloon, and turned up in good force to see him off. He spent his last shilling “shouting,” and kept up his end of the pathetic little farce26 out of consideration for the feelings of certain proud female relatives, and not because he was “proud”—at least in that way. He stood on a conspicuous27 part of the saloon deck and waved his white handkerchief until Miller's Point came between. Then he came forward where he belonged. But he was proud—bitterly so. He had a flower too, but he did not give it to the stewardess. He had it pressed, we think (for we knew him), and perhaps he wears it now over the place where his heart used to be.
When Australia was fading from view we shed a tear, which was all we had to shed; at least, we tried to shed a tear, and could not. It is best to be exact when you are writing from experience.
Just as Australia was fading from view, someone looked through a glass, and said in a sad, tired kind of voice that he could just see the place where the Dunbar was wrecked.
Several passengers were leaning about and saying “Europe! E-u-rope!” in agonized28 tones. None of them were going to Europe, and the new chums said nothing about it. This reminds us that some people say “Asia! Asia! Ak-kak-Asia!” when somebody spills the pepper. There was a pepper-box without a stopper on the table in our cabin. The fact soon attracted attention.
A new chum came along and asked us whether the Maoris were very bad round Sydney. He'd heard that they were. We told him that we had never had any trouble with them to speak of, and gave him another show.
“Did you ever hear of the wreck of the Dunbar?” we asked. He said that he never “heerd tell” of it, but he had heerd of the wreck of the Victoria.
We gave him best.
The first evening passed off quietly, except for the vinously-excited shearers. They had sworn eternal friendship with a convivial29 dude from the saloon, and he made a fine specimen30 fool of himself for an hour or so. He never showed his nose for'ard again.
Now and then a passenger would solemnly seek the steward24 and have a beer. The steward drew it out of a small keg which lay on its side on a shelf with a wooden tap sticking out of the end of it—out of the end of the keg, we mean. The beer tasted like warm but weak vinegar, and cost sixpence per small glass. The bagman told the steward that he could not compliment him on the quality of his liquor, but the steward said nothing. He did not even seem interested—only bored. He had heard the same remark often before, no doubt. He was a fat, solemn steward—not formal, but very reticent—unresponsive. He looked like a man who had conducted a religious conservative paper once and failed, and had then gone into the wholesale31 produce line, and failed again, and finally got his present billet through the influence of his creditors32 and two clergymen. He might have been a sociable33 fellow, a man about town, even a gay young dog, and a radical writer before he was driven to accept the editorship of the aforesaid periodical. He probably came of a “good English family.” He was now, very likely, either a rigid34 Presbyterian or an extreme freethinker. He thought a lot, anyway, and looked as if he knew a lot too—too much for words, in fact.
We took a turn on deck before turning in, and heard two men arguing about the way in which the Dunbar was wrecked.
The commercial travellers, the jeweller, and one or two new chums who were well provided with clothing undressed deliberately35 and retired36 ostentatiously in pyjamas37, but there were others—men of better days—who turned in either very early or very late, when the cabin was quiet, and slipped hurriedly and furtively38 out of their clothes and between the blankets, as if they were ashamed of the poverty of their underwear. It is well that the Lord can see deep down into the hearts of men, for He has to judge them; it is well that the majority of mankind cannot, because, if they could, the world would be altogether too sorrowful to live in; and we do not think the angels can either, else they would not be happy—if they could and were they would not be angels any longer—they would be devils. Study it out on a slate39.
We turned in feeling comfortably dismal40, and almost wishing that we had gone down with the Dunbar.
The intoxicated41 shearers and the dude kept their concert up till a late hour that night—or, rather, a very early hour next morning; and at about midnight they were reinforced by the commercial traveller and Moses, the jeweller, who had been visiting acquaintances aft. This push was encouraged by voices from various bunks42, and enthusiastically barracked for by a sandy-complexioned, red-headed comedian44 with twinkling grey eyes, who occupied the berth45 immediately above our own.
They stood with their backs to the bunks, and their feet braced46 against the deck, or lurched round, and took friendly pulls from whisky flasks48, and chyacked each other, and laughed, and blowed, and lied like—like Australian bushmen; and occasionally they broke out into snatches of song—and as often broke down. Few Englishmen know more than the first verse, or two lines, of even their most popular song, and, where elevated enough to think they can sing, they repeat the first verse over and over again, with the wrong words, and with a sort of “Ta-ra-ra-rum-ti-tooral, ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-rum-ti, ta-ra-ra-rum-tum-ti-rum-rum-tum-ti-dee-e-e,” by way of variation.
Presently—suddenly, it seemed to our drowsy49 senses—two of the shearers and the bagman commenced arguing with drunken gravity and precision about politics, even while a third bushman was approaching the climax50 of an out-back yarn of many adjectives, of which he himself was the hero. The scraps51 of conversation that we caught were somewhat as follow. We leave out most of the adjectives.
First Voice: “Now, look here. The women will vote for men, not principles. That's why I'm against women voting. Now, just mark my—-”
Third Voice (trying to finish yarn): “Hold on. Just wait till I tell yer. Well, this bloomin' bloke, he says—-”
Second Voice (evidently in reply to first): “Principles you mean, not men. You're getting a bit mixed, old man.” (Smothered chuckle52 from comedian over our head.)
Third Voice (seeming to drift round in search of sympathy): “'You will!' sez I. 'Yes, I will,' he sez. 'Oh, you will, will yer?' I sez; and with that I—-”
Second Voice (apparently53 wandering from both subjects) “Blanker has always stuck up for the workin' man, an' he'll get in, you'll see. Why, he's a bloomin' workin' man himself. Me and Blanker—-”
Disgusted voice from a bunk43: “Oh, that's damn rot! We've had enough of lumpers in parliament! Horny hands are all right enough, but we don't want any more blanky horny heads!”
Third Voice (threateningly): “Who's talkin' about 'orny heads? That pitch is meant for us, ain't it? Do you mean to say that I've got a 'orny head?”
Here two men commenced snarling54 at each other, and there was some talk of punching the causes of the dispute; but the bagman interfered55, a fresh flask47 was passed round, and some more eternal friendship sworn to.
We dozed56 off again, and the next time we were aware of anything the commercial and Moses had disappeared, the rest were lying or sitting in their bunks, and the third shearer20 was telling a yarn about an alleged57 fight he had at a shed up-country; and perhaps he was telling it for the benefit of the dissatisfied individual who made the injudicious remark concerning horny heads.
“So I said to the boss-over-the-board, 'you're a nice sort of a thing,' I sez. 'Who are you talkin' to?' he says. 'You, bless yer,' I says. 'Now, look here,' he says, 'you get your cheque and clear! 'All right,' I says, 'you can take that!' and I hauled off and landed him a beauty under the butt22 of the listener. Then the boss came along with two blacklegs, but the boys made a ring, and I laid out the blanks in just five minutes. Then I sez to the boss, 'That's the sort of cove58 I am,' I sez, 'an' now, if you—-”
But just here there came a deep, growling59 voice—seemingly from out of the depths of the forehold—anyway, there came a voice, and it said:
“For the Lord's sake give her a rest!”
The steward turned off the electricity, but there were two lanterns dimly burning in our part of the steerage. It was a narrow compartment60 running across the width of the boat, and had evidently been partitioned off from the top floor of the hold to meet the emigration from Australia to New Zealand. There were three tiers of bunks, two deep, on the far side, three rows of single bunks on the other, and two at each end of the cabin, the top ones just under the portholes.
The shearers had turned in “all standing61;” two of them were lying feet to feet in a couple of outside lower berths62. One lay on his stomach with his face turned outwards63, his arm thrown over the side of the bunk, and his knuckles64 resting on the deck, the other rested on the broad of his back with his arm also hanging over the side and his knuckles resting on the floor. And so they slept the sleep of the drunk.
A fair, girl-faced young Swiss emigrant65 occupied one of the top berths, with his curly, flaxen head resting close alongside one of the lanterns that were dimly burning, and an Anglo-foreign dictionary in his hand. His mate, or brother, who resembled him in everything except that he had dark hair, lay asleep alongside; and in the next berth a long consumptive-looking new chum sat in his pyjamas, with his legs hanging over the edge, and his hands grasping the sideboard, to which, on his right hand, a sort of tin-can arrangement was hooked. He was staring intently at nothing, and seemed to be thinking very hard.
We dozed off again, and woke suddenly to find our eyes wide open, and the young Swiss still studying, and the jackaroo still sitting in the same position, but with a kind of waiting expression on his face—a sort of expectant light in his eyes. Suddenly he lurched for the can, and after awhile he lay back looking like a corpse68.
We slept again, and finally awoke to daylight and the clatter69 of plates. All the bunks were vacated except two, which contained corpses70, apparently.
Wet decks, and a round, stiff, morning breeze, blowing strongly across the deck, abeam71, and gustily72 through the open portholes. There was a dull grey sky, and the sea at first sight seemed to be of a dark blue or green, but on closer inspection73 it took a dirty slate colour, with splashes as of indigo74 in the hollows. There was one of those near, yet far-away horizons.
About two-thirds of the men were on deck, but the women had not shown up yet—nor did they show up until towards the end of the trip.
Some of the men were smoking in a sheltered corner, some walking up and down, two or three trying to play quoits, one looking at the poultry75, one standing abaft76 the purser's cabin with hands in the pockets of his long ragged77 overcoat, watching the engines, and two more—carpenters—were discussing a big cedar78 log, about five feet in diameter, which was lashed79 on deck alongside the hatch.
While we were waiting for the Oroya some of the ship's officers came and had a consultation80 over this log and called up part of the crew, who got some more ropes and a chain on to it. It struck us at the time that that log would make a sensation if it fetched loose in rough weather. But there wasn't any rough weather.
The fore15-cabin was kept clean; the assistant steward was good-humoured and obliging; his chief was civil enough to freeze the Never-Never country; but the bill of fare was monotonous81.
During the afternoon a first-salooner made himself obnoxious82 by swelling83 round for'ard. He was a big bull-necked “Britisher” (that word covers it) with a bloated face, prominent gooseberry eyes, fore 'n' aft cap, and long tan shoes. He seemed as if he'd come to see a “zoo,” and was dissatisfied with it—had a fine contempt for it, in fact, because it did not come up to other zoological gardens that he had seen in London, and on the aw—continong and in the—aw-er—aw—the States, dontcherknow. The fellows reckoned that he ought to be “took down a peg” (dontcherknow) and the sandy-complexioned comedian said he'd do it. So he stepped softly up to the swell84, tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and pointed aft—holding his arm out like a pump handle and his forefinger85 rigid.
The Britisher's face was a study; it was blank at first and then it went all colours, and wore, in succession, every possible expression except a pleasant one. He seemed bursting with indignation, but he did not speak—could not, perhaps; and, as soon as he could detach his feet from the spot to which they had been nailed in the first place by astonishment86, he stalked aft. He did not come to see the zoo any more.
The fellows in the fore-cabin that evening were growling about the bad quality of the grub supplied.
Then the shearer's volcano showed signs of activity. He shifted round, spat impatiently, and said:
“You chaps don't know what yer talkin' about. You want something to grumble87 about. You should have been out with me last year on the Paroo in Noo South Wales. The meat we got there was so bad that it uster travel!”
“What?”
“Yes! travel! take the track! go on the wallaby! The cockies over there used to hang the meat up on the branches of the trees, and just shake it whenever they wanted to feed the fowls88. And the water was so bad that half a pound of tea in the billy wouldn't make no impression on the colour—nor the taste. The further west we went the worse our meat got, till at last we had to carry a dog-chain to chain it up at night. Then it got worse and broke the chain, and then we had to train the blessed dogs to shepherd it and bring it back. But we fell in with another chap with a bad old dog—a downright knowing, thieving, old hard-case of a dog; and this dog led our dogs astray—-demoralized them—corrupted their morals—and so one morning they came home with the blooming meat inside them, instead of outside—and we had to go hungry for breakfast.”
“You'd better turn in, gentlemen. I'm going to turn off the light,” said the steward.
The yarn reminded the Sydney man of a dog he had, and he started some dog lies.
“This dog of mine,” he said, “knowed the way into the best public-houses. If I came to a strange town and wanted a good drink, I'd only have to say, 'Jack67, I'm dry,' and he'd lead me all right. He always knew the side entrances and private doors after hours, and I—”
But the yarn did not go very well—it fell flat in fact. Then the commercial traveller was taken bad with an anecdote89. “That's nothing,” he said, “I had a black bag once that knew the way into public-houses.”
“A what?”
“Yes. A black bag. A long black bag like that one I've got there in my bunk. I was staying at a boarding-house in Sydney, and one of us used to go out every night for a couple of bottles of beer, and we carried the bottles in the bag; and when we got opposite the pub the front end of the bag would begin to swing round towards the door. It was wonderful. It was just as if there was a lump of steel in the end of the bag and a magnet in the bar. We tried it with ever so many people, but it always acted the same. We couldn't use that bag for any other purpose, for if we carried it along the street it would make our wrists ache trying to go into pubs. It twisted my wrist one time, and it ain't got right since—I always feel the pain in dull weather. Well, one night we got yarning90 and didn't notice how the time was going, and forgot to go for the beer till it was nearly too late. We looked for the bag and couldn't find it—we generally kept it under a side-table, but it wasn't there, and before we were done looking, eleven o'clock went. We sat down round the fire, feeling pretty thirsty, and were just thinking about turning in when we heard a thump91 on the table behind us. We looked round, and there was that bag with two full bottles of English ale in it.
“Then I remembered that I'd left a bob in the bottom of the bag, and—-”
The steward turned off the electric light.
There were some hundreds of cases of oranges stacked on deck, and made fast with matting and cordage to the bulwarks92. That night was very dark, and next morning there was a row. The captain said he'd “give any man three months that he caught at those oranges.”
“Wot, yer givin' us?” said a shearer. “We don't know anything about yer bloomin' oranges.... I seen one of the saloon passengers moochin' round for'ard last night. You'd better search the saloon for your blarsted oranges, an' don't come round tacklin' the wrong men.”
It was not necessary to search our quarters, for the “offside” steward was sweeping93 orange peel out of the steerage for three days thereafter.
And that night, just as we were about to fall asleep, a round, good-humoured face loomed94 over the edge of the shelf above and a small, twinkling, grey eye winked95 at us. Then a hand came over, gave a jerk, and something fell on our nose. It was an orange. We sent a “thank you” up through the boards and commenced hurriedly and furtively to stow away the orange. But the comedian had an axe66 to grind—most people have—wanted to drop his peel alongside our berth; and it made us uneasy because we did not want circumstantial evidence lying round us if the captain chanced to come down to inquire. The next man to us had a barney with the man above him about the same thing. Then the peel was scattered96 round pretty fairly, or thrown into an empty bunk, and no man dared growl17 lest he should come to be regarded as a blackleg—a would-be informer.
The men opposite the door kept a look out; and two Australian jokers sat in the top end berth with their legs hanging over and swinging contentedly97, and the porthole open ready for a swift and easy disposal of circumstantial evidence on the first alarm. They were eating a pineapple which they had sliced and extracted in sections from a crate99 up on deck. They looked so chummy, and so school-boyishly happy and contented98, that they reminded us of the days long ago, when we were so high.
The chaps had talk about those oranges on deck next day. The commercial traveller said we had a right to the oranges, because the company didn't give us enough to eat. He said that we were already suffering from insufficient100 proper nourishment101, and he'd tell the doctor so if the doctor came on board at Auckland. Anyway, it was no sin to rob a company.
“But then,” said our comedian, “those oranges, perhaps, were sent over by a poor, struggling orange grower, with a wife and family to keep, and he'll have to bear the loss, and a few bob might make a lot of difference to him. It ain't right to rob a poor man.”
This made us feel doubtful and mean, and one or two got uncomfortable and shifted round uneasily. But presently the traveller came to the rescue. He said that no doubt the oranges belonged to a middleman, and the middleman was the curse of the country. We felt better.
Towards the end of the trip the women began to turn up. There were five grass widows, and every female of them had a baby. The Australian marries young and poor; and, when he can live no longer in his native land, he sells the furniture, buys a steerage ticket to New Zealand or Western Australia, and leaves his wife with her relatives or friends until he earns enough money to send for her. Four of our women were girl-wives, and mostly pretty. One little handful of a thing had a fine baby boy, nearly as big as herself, and she looked so fragile and pale, and pretty and lonely, and had such an appealing light in her big shadowed brown eyes, and such a pathetic droop102 at the corners of her sweet little mouth, that you longed to take her in your manly103 arms—baby and all—and comfort her.
The last afternoon on high seas was spent in looking through glasses for the Pinnacles104, off North Cape105. And, as we neared the land, the commercial traveller remarked that he wouldn't mind if there was a wreck now—provided we all got saved. “We'd have all our names in the papers,” he said. “Gallant conduct of the passengers and crew. Heroic rescue by Mr So-and-so-climbing the cliffs with a girl under his arm, and all that sort of thing.”
The chaps smiled a doleful smile, and turned away again to look at the Promised Land. They had had no anxiety to speak of for the last two or three days; but now they were again face to face with the cursed question, “How to make a living.” They were wondering whether or no they would get work in New Zealand, and feeling more doubtful about it than when they embarked106.
Pity we couldn't go to sea and sail away for ever, and never see land any more—or, at least, not till better and brighter days—if they ever come.
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1
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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5
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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6
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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7
embezzles
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| v.贪污，盗用（公款）( embezzle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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8
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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prevaricating
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| v.支吾( prevaricate的现在分词 )；搪塞；说谎 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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11
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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12
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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14
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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15
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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16
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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18
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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shearer
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| n.剪羊毛的人；剪切机 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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32
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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33
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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34
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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35
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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36
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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37
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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38
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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39
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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40
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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41
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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42
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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43
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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44
comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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45
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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46
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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47
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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48
flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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49
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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50
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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51
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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52
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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53
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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54
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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56
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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58
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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59
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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60
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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61
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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62
berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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63
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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emigrant
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| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
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66
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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67
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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68
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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69
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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70
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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71
abeam
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| adj.正横着(的) | |
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72
gustily
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| adv.暴风地，狂风地 | |
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73
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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74
indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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75
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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76
abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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77
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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78
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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79
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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80
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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81
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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82
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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83
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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84
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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85
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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86
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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87
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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88
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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89
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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90
yarning
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的现在分词形式） | |
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91
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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92
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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93
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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94
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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95
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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96
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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97
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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98
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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99
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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100
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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101
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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102
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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103
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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104
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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105
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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106
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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