Such a spectacle gives the stranger fitting introduction to Gloucester, for from earliest times the men of the gray old town have been followers17 of the sea. It was three years after the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth that the first Englishman settled on Cape18 Ann, at the place now called Gloucester, which took its name from the old English cathedral city whence many of its settlers had come. America's Gloucester doubtless seems young to the mother town, which is of British origin and was built before the Romans crossed from Gaul; but, despite the great cathedral in the English town and the importance in the clerical world of the prelates and church [Pg 3]dignitaries who found livings there, the Yankee town was for many years a place of more consequence in the world of trade and profit than the English Gloucester has ever been.
Founded as a rendezvous19 where fishermen could cure their fish and fit out for their trips, in the old days Gloucester in Massachusetts had fishing and whaling fleets, and her boats not only went out on the Banks in search of cod21, but to the far limits of the North and South Seas they sailed to bring back rich cargoes22 of whale oil. Her fleets ventured into every sea from which profit could be brought, and boys born in the town or its neighbors three or four generations agone all looked forward to a half dozen cruises as a matter of course, just as the modern boy knows that he must go to school and learn to read and write. It was a rough school to which the youth of Gloucester and Cape Ann went, but it was a good one. They learned there to be brave and manly23, and seafaring broadened the minds of men who had they stayed at[Pg 4] home would have been sadly provincial24 and narrow.
Thus the history of Gloucester centers in the fisheries. The yarns25 most often told at her firesides are of hairbreadth escapes at sea; her legends and romances have a flavor of the salt waves about them; her rugged26 granite27 shore is marked with the scenes of memorable28 shipwrecks29 and storms; her town records are the records of fleets that have gone down on the Banks, of pinks and schooners that have foundered31 on the Georges, of heroes that have toiled32 for their families and fought the grim battle of life with the fogs, the lightning and the swooping33 billows of the sou'wester, and with the ice, the hail and the short, savage34 cross seas and terrible blast of the raging nor'wester, while their children have cried for their absent fathers and their wives have lain awake through long, dreary35 nights, burning the light in the window and straining their eyes to see through the gloom of the storm the long expected vessel36[Pg 5] and the beloved forms that perhaps have already gone down at sea.
The discovery of petroleum37 struck the Gloucester whaling industry a blow from which it has never recovered, but the town's fisheries are still in thriving condition. Four hundred fishing vessels38 of sufficient consequence to be registered hail at the present time from Gloucester. The number of men employed in these vessels, the majority of which are as speedy and well built as pleasure yachts, is upward of 5,000. Many of the fishermen are from the British provinces and make excellent skippers and sailors, while Sweden, Norway and the Azore Islands contribute a large number, who are, as a rule, orderly, capable and industrious39. They fare well as compared with the fishermen of other days or with men now before the mast of the merchant service, and fresh pies, biscuits, fowls40, eggs and like delicacies41 are frequently seen in the forecastle of a Gloucester banker.
The mackerel fishermen bound for the Georges Banks usually leave Gloucester as[Pg 6] early as the last of February, but those bound to other waters with the cod, halibut and haddock fishermen do not start until later. The cod are caught chiefly on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, where the watch lights of the Gloucester men twinkle in the midnight gloom in company with those of the French fishers of Miquelon and St. Pierre. Mackerel are also caught in the Bay of St. Lawrence, off Cape North, Sidney and the Magdalen Islands, where the fishermen often linger until late in the fall and are sometimes assailed43 by heavy gales44 among those inhospitable shores, without sea room, on a lee shore and no safe port to run to. The haddock and halibut are oftener caught on Brown's Bank and within the waters of New England. There are several modes of fitting out for the fisheries, but the one most often followed is for the owner of a vessel to charter her to ten or fifteen men on shares, he finding the stores and the nets and the men paying for the provisions, hooks and lines and for the salt necessary to cure their proportion of the fish.
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The crew of a banker is usually composed of a dozen to eighteen men, including the skipper, or captain, who exercises no direct control over the others, but is recognized by them as the principal personage on board. The average Gloucester fisherman is a splendid though rough specimen46 of an American. You may know him by his free-and-easy manner and his swinging gait. His costume when at work is a red or blue flannel47 shirt of the thickest material, admirably adapted to absorb and exclude the chilling fogs in which he passes so much of his time, a heavy tarpaulin48 or sou'wester, generally his own handiwork, pilot-cloth trousers and heavy cowhide boots completing his attire49. His face bespeaks50 a serious but cheerful and contented51 spirit, the result of a philosophical52, half careless dependence53 upon luck.
Generous and fearless in his address, he is of simple and economical habits and, like most men of large stature54, almost peculiar55 in a placid56 good humor which seldom leaves him. Always ready for any fortune, the fisherman[Pg 8] tries to look upon the bright side of life and draw whatever there may be of pleasure from his hazardous57 calling. But among the bankers are occasional roystering, devil-may-care fellows, whose never ending practical jokes and offhand58 manner serve to enliven the little vessel and dispel59 the tedium60 of the voyage to the Banks.
The Grand Bank extends north and south about six hundred miles and east and west some two hundred, lying to the southeast of Newfoundland. Its shape cannot be easily defined, but the form denoted by the soundings give it somewhat the resemblance of New Holland. To the southward it narrows to a point, presenting abrupt62 edges, which in some places drop into almost fathomless63 water. This, as well as the adjacent banks of St. Pierre, Bank Querau and the Flemish Cap, abound64 with fish of various kinds, which at stated seasons adopt this as a shoaling place or grand rendezvous. The most numerous of these are the cod, which thrive here so amazingly that the unceasing industry of many[Pg 9] hundreds of vessels through two centuries has in no way diminished their numbers. The fishery is not confined to the Banks, but extends to the shores and harbors of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and Cape Breton. The fish affect sandy bottom. In winter they retire into deep water, but in March and April reappear and fatten65 rapidly from the time of their arrival on the Banks.
Fishing begins as soon as the smacks66 reach the Banks. In other years all cod were caught by means of handlines, and some fish are still taken that way. The most, however, are now taken by trawls, which were introduced about 1860 and were first used by the French. A trawl consists of a line some 3,000 feet in length, to which are attached short ones about a yard long, on each of which is a hook. The short lines are placed about six feet apart, so that each trawl has about 500 hooks. Attached to each end of the line by a rope is a buoy68, sometimes only an empty powder keg or a mackerel kit69. In the head of the buoy is a pole three feet long, upon which is a small[Pg 10] flag to attract the attention of the owner when in search of it. To each end of the line is fastened a small anchor.
The hooks are baited with squid, herring or other small fish, if they can be secured. To bait a trawl requires from an hour and a half to two hours. When it is ready it is placed in a tub made of a half barrel. The long line is coiled up in the center and the bait lies next to the sides of the tub. One man uses from two to six trawls, which are usually visited in a dory very early each morning and once or twice during the day. When one buoy is reached the end of the trawl to which it is attached is drawn70 up, the hooks examined and the fish taken off. By means of trawls a man may catch more in a single night than by a week's hard work with hand lines.
Each man keeps tally71 of his fish as he hauls them in to the dory by cutting out the tongues—the number of tongues giving the account of the fish taken. As soon as the day's catch has been taken aboard the schooner5 the crew divide themselves into throaters, headers,[Pg 11] splitters, salters and packers, and the operation known as splitting and salting begins. The business of the throater is to cut with a sharp pointed72 knife across the throat of the fish to the bone and rip open the bowels73. He then passes it quickly to the header, who with a sudden wrench74 pulls off the head and tears out the entrails, passing the fish instantly to the splitter. At the same time separating the liver, he throws the entrails overboard. The splitter with one cut lays the fish open from head to tail and with another cut takes out the backbone75. After separating the sounds, which are placed with the tongues and packed in barrels as a great delicacy76, the backbone follows the entrails overboard. Such is the amazing quickness of the operations of heading and splitting that a good workman will often decapitate and take out the entrails and backbone of six fish in a minute. After the catch has been washed off with buckets of pure water from the ocean the fish are passed to the salters and thence to the packers in the hold. The task of the salters is a most [Pg 12]important one, as the value of the voyage depends upon their care and judgment77. They take the fish one by one, spread them, back uppermost, in layers, distributing a proper quantity of salt between each. Packing in bulk, or "kench," as the fishermen term it, is intrusted only to the most experienced hands.
When the day's catch has been cared for in the manner just described the watch is set and all but two men turn in. These watches are regulated in such a manner that every man is on deck his part of the night hours. Breakfast is served at 3 o'clock in the morning, and off the men go again to their trawls. If it is foggy dinner is announced by the report of a ten-pound gun from the schooner. It is then about 10 o'clock. After dinner the fishers are away again and back about 4, when the fish which have been caught are split and salted as on the previous day. The only thing that relieves the monotony on board a Gloucester fishing smack67 is stormy weather or the coming of Sunday. This day is kept holy.
Leaving the Grand Banks, let us cross over[Pg 13] to the Georges Banks, where in the months of spring and summer we shall find Gloucester hand-liners, with crews of from eight to ten men fishing for mackerel. Every man is at the rail, as he fishes from the deck of the vessel. The tide runs so strong that nine-pound leads are necessary. Attached to each lead is a horse, a slingding, or spreader, and a pair of large hooks. Sometimes when fishing in thirty fathoms78 of water the great strength of the tide forces the men to pay out from sixty to ninety fathoms of line before the lead touches bottom. In front of each man, driven into the rail, is a wooden pin. This is termed the soldier, and it has an important duty. Every inch of the line is hauled across it. Were it not for these rail pins the lines would continually be fouled79 with one another.
When a smack's crew chance upon a fresh school of mackerel their hooks have only to touch the water to be seized and swallowed. No time is lost in unhooking, but each fisherman hauls as fast as his hands can move until the fish appears in sight, when with one[Pg 14] motion he is swung quickly over the rail into a barrel or heap and so dexterously80 that the hook disengages itself. When the fish continue plentiful81 the scene is a most exciting one. The long, lithe82 bodies of the fishermen eagerly bending over their work, the quick, nervous twitching83 at the line, followed by the steady strain, the rapid hand-over-hand haul that brings the prize to the surface, the easy swing with which he describes a circle in the air as the victor slaps him into his barrel and the flapping of the captives about deck, mingling84 with the merry laughter of the excited crew, make it a sport to which the efforts of the trout85 angler or the fowler with his double-barreled shotgun are but puny86 and insignificant87 in comparison.
Time was when the use of the hook and line made mackerel catching the very poetry of fishing, but in recent years the purse seine has come into general use. Mackerel seining, however, is an interesting process. A large seine is two hundred and fifty fathoms in length and about fifteen or twenty fathoms[Pg 15] deep. The school is sighted from the masthead and the direction in which the fish are swimming is noted61. A boat is manned and sets out to head off the school. Two men in a dory hold one end of the purse line which runs through rings at the bottom of the seine. A circle is described by the boat, the seine being thrown out at the same time. When the boat meets the dory the other end of the line is taken into the boat. Then the seines are drawn together, forming a large bag. The fish are inside and it is necessary to gather as much of the net into the boat as possible. The fish are then in what is termed the bunt. This is the strongest part of the seine. The vessel sails up close to the boat, picks up the outside corks88 and the bailing89 begins, a dip net that will hold a barrel being used for this purpose, after which the fish are cleaned, salted and stowed in the hold. Vessels have been known to take 300 barrels in one haul, but the average catch nowadays is about twenty-five barrels.
When the mackerel fleet fished with hand[Pg 16] lines the pursuit of this industry was exciting in the extreme. Often when massed together in great fleets the vessels carried away their mainbooms, bowsprits, jibbooms and sails by collision in what was really a hand-to-hand encounter and when the maneuver90 of lee-bowing was the order of the day. A fleet of sixty odd sail descry91 a schooner whose crew are heaving and pulling their lines. The glistening92 scales of the fish sparkle in the sunlight. The fleet as one vessel turns quickly on its heel and there is a neck-and-neck race for the school. The first that arrives rounds to under the lee of the fortunate craft, the crew heaving the toll93 bait with lavish94 hands.
The new arrival now shakes up into the wind close under the lee bow of the fish-catching vessel. The fish forsake95 the latter and fly at the lines of the newcomer. Now comes up the balance of the fleet, and each vessel on its arrival performs the same maneuver and lee-bows its predecessor96. Those to windward, forsaken97 by the fish, push their way through their neighbors, fill away[Pg 17] and round to under the bows of those to leeward98. The hoarse99 bawling100 of the skippers to their crews, the imprecations of those who have been run down and left disabled, rend20 the air, while the crews, setting and lowering sail and hauling fish, freely exchange with each other language not to be found in any current religious work. In these latter days, however, seines, as before stated, have taken the place of line, and lee-bowing, with its attendant excitement and danger, has passed to the limbo101 of forgotten things.
Fishing smacks bound for the Georges, the Western, or Banks of Newfoundland may be gone three or four weeks, bringing their fish to market on ice, or they may be absent from four to six months, dressing102 and salting their fish on board. But, be the voyage long or short, it is a joyous103 and moving spectacle to see a schooner come into Gloucester from the Banks loaded to the scuppers and packed to the beams with codfish. The wharf104 is lined with eager spectators as she glides105 up to her dock with a leading wind. The foresail comes[Pg 18] in and the mainsail is lowered and handed by a crew weatherbeaten and clumsily limber in heavy Cape Cod seaboots, sou'westers and oiljackets. Then the jib downhaul is manned and a number of boys, longing106 for the day when they can go to the Banks, catch the hawsers107 and make her fast to the pier42 fore8 and aft.
Amidst a storm of questions asked and answered on both sides, the crew range themselves on board and on shore with one-tined pitchforks and proceed to unload with the rapidity and regularity108 of machinery109. The men in the hold heave the fish on deck, whence they are tossed to the wharf. Another turn of the pitchfork lands them under the knife, their heads and tails come off and they are split open in a second and are then salted and spread upon flakes110 to dry. These flakes are frames covered with triangular111 slats and are about seven feet wide and raised three feet above the ground. At Gloucester they may be seen not only upon the wharves112, but also in all vacant places between the houses and[Pg 19] even in the front dooryards, so that at every turn the smell of codfish regales the passerby113.
But there is a sadder, sterner side to the life of the Gloucester fishermen than which I have been describing. Danger is their constant, death their familiar, companion, and each season has its sorrowful story of storm, wreck30 and disaster. Truth to tell, the perils114 of the trawler are even greater than those of the soldier in battle. He is often four or five miles from his vessel, when suddenly the thick fog closes in upon him and he is lost, perhaps to row for days in hopeless search, without food, drink or compass. He may die of exhaustion115 or perhaps be picked up at length by a passing vessel and taken to some distant port. More than thirty lives were lost in this way in the summer of 1894. Although horns are blown in warning, a whole crew is sometimes sunk in an instant by some steamer on its way across the ocean. Of all the men lost on the Banks during the last twenty years more than two-thirds have been out in dories attending trawls.
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Fierce, too, are the storms which sweep the Banks in winter. Then the wind is bitter cold, deck and mast and sails are clad in ice, and many a crew are never heard of more. The Georges in fair weather is not dangerous fishing ground, but in a gale45 it defies both skill and strength. The shallow water is churned into rolling mountain waves which almost sweep the ocean bed. At such times the 125-ton fishing vessels, which usually anchor close together when fishing, are at the mercy of the elements. It is impossible for the anchors to get a firm grip and they are sometimes dragged for miles. This, in fact, is the greatest danger of the business. Not infrequently in a heavy gale two or three vessels will drift together, their cables become tangled116 until they are unmanageable and in short order vessels and crew will be engulfed117. Some years ago thirty schooners, with 150 sailors aboard, were lost in this manner in a single gale on the Georges.
Since 1830 nearly 700 fishing vessels sailing from Gloucester have been lost and upward[Pg 21] of 2,700 men have perished. The winter of 1882 was one long to be remembered in Gloucester, for in less than two months more than a hundred fishermen were lost on the Banks. One of these was Angus McCloud, than whom no braver man ever found a grave at the ocean's bottom. Three years before he had been on the Banks in the same vessel with his brothers, Malcolm and John McCloud. Among their shipmates were the McDonalds—William, Donald, John and Neal. Their vessel was in the gale of 1879 on the Banks—a gale the like of which had rarely before been experienced by the fleet. Thrown over on its beam ends, the little bark still held to its anchor and finally rode out the gale with her crew lashed118 in the rigging. Nearby was another vessel in the same position, and others were being tossed about to windward and to leeward. Two poor fellows, washed from one of the former, were swept between the two vessels that had been knocked down and were not one hundred feet from either. The crews of these vessels, clinging to the icy rigging,[Pg 22] looked anxiously from one to another to see if any one was bold enough to attempt a rescue. Angus McCloud cast off the lashings which bound him, seized a lanyard, made it fast about his waist and stood for a moment poised120 on the shroud121 lashings. Then he sprang boldly into an advancing wave and was carried toward one of the struggling men. Soon he had him by his oilskin coat and soon the crew were hauling them in. Angus assisted in the rescue of another comrade before the gale was spent and his vessel righted.
Time and again other members of the Gloucester fishing fleet have proved themselves worthy122 comrades of Angus McCloud. Several years ago Captain Mark Lane, now dead, but then skipper of the schooner Edwin, while homeward bound from the Banks discovered two shipwrecked men on a half-submerged rock near the Fox Islands, on the Maine coast. It was midwinter and a heavy gale was blowing, but Captain Lane put his wheel hard down, brought his vessel up into the wind, hove to under a close-reefed foresail[Pg 23] and told his men they must rescue the sailors on the rock. It was a perilous123 undertaking124 and, as there appeared to be no chance of a boat living in the sea then running, the crew protested. "Then I'll go myself," said the skipper. "Stand by, there, lads, to lower away a boat from the davits!" But the crew relented when they saw that their captain was determined125 and two stout126 fellows drove a dory over the huge waves to the rock. The men were saved, and a certificate of the Humane127 Society of Massachusetts, still treasured by Captain Lane's family, attests128 that a careful examination into his conduct had proved him worthy the recognition of that admirable body.
The experience of the Gloucester fishermen in the winter of 1882 was by no means an unusual one. In the last twenty years over a thousand of them have laid their bones on the drifting sands of the fishing banks. During a hurricane in 1876 on the Banks almost an entire fleet was disabled or lost and 200 men were drowned. The wind, which had been[Pg 24] blowing a gale from the southeast, veered129 suddenly to west-northwest. Skipper Collins of the schooner Howard, one of the vessels that escaped, had a remarkable130 experience. His vessel was "hawsed" up by the current, which set strongly to the southward and nearly at right angles to the hurricane. He had just time to tie up the clew of his riding sail—a sort of storm trysail—and lash119 the bottom hoops131 together, thus making a "bag reef," when the hurricane burst with terrific force upon the little vessel. A heavy sea boarded the schooner and carried off one of the sailors. Later on, while standing132 on the bit head of the fife rail and grasping the riding-sail halyards ready to let it run if necessary, a ball of lightning burst between the masts and knocked the captain insensible to the deck, whence he was dragged below by his crew. The lightning severely133 burned his right arm and leg and disappeared through his boots.
During the same storm the schooner Burnham was struck so suddenly and with such violence by a sea as to turn her bottom up[Pg 25] and throw her skipper, James Nickerson, and his crew, who were below, upon the ceiling, where they lay sprawling134 for a moment until the vessel righted herself. There was one man on deck when she was struck, Hector McIsaac. He saw the wave coming and leapt into the shrouds135. With his legs locked in the ratlines he went down into the foaming136 sea, and when the crew came on deck there was Hector McIsaac still clinging to the shrouds. Captain Nickerson was subsequently lost in a dory from the Bellerophon on the Banks, and Hector McIsaac went down in the Nathaniel Webster in 1881, together with his brother.
Everybody who lives in Gloucester is interested in the fishing industry, and so it falls out that the city's life is about equally made up of intervals137 of joy and sorrow. When summer opens the general tone of public feeling is bright and hopeful, but at the end of the season, as the fishers come in, some with flags at half-mast, others bearing fateful news, the whole town is depressed138. All the residents show a concern in the sailors who are[Pg 26] lost and in the welfare of their families. Even citizens of fortune who suffer no personal bereavement139 have been brought closely into touch with the poor fishing families through repeated tragedies at sea. The scenes in the fishing quarters during the late fall and winter months when news of death is brought by almost every returning boat are most pathetic. Sometimes the news comes with a shock, at others wives and children wait for weeks in anxiety and never know the details of the fate of their loved ones.
The immediate140 wants of the families of lost sailors are looked after by the Gloucester Relief Association. Almost everybody in the town subscribes141 to this, rich and poor alike, as well as the sailors living along the shore and in Nova Scotia, all of whom sail in the Gloucester vessels. When there is a disaster the nearest relatives of the men lost receive a sum proportionate to the amount which the subscribers have paid into the association. In addition, voluntary subscriptions142 are made by churches and societies in Gloucester and [Pg 27]Boston once a year and distributed at the time of the annual memorial service in February.
This service held in the city hall of Gloucester is unique in its way. Everybody in the city takes an interest in it and, with shops closed and business suspended, the day is one of general mourning. But neither death nor its solemn reminders143 can rob the boy born and bred in Gloucester of hunger for the time when he, too, may hazard life and fortune on the distant fishing grounds; and gray Mother Ocean, kindly144 and cruel by turns, claims him for her own, singing to-day of his hardihood and to-morrow—chanting his requiem145.
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1
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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7
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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8
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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10
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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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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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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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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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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shipwrecks
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| 海难，船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 )； 沉船 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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33
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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34
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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36
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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37
petroleum
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| n.原油，石油 | |
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38
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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39
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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40
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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41
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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42
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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43
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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44
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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45
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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46
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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47
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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48
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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49
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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50
bespeaks
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| v.预定( bespeak的第三人称单数 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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51
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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52
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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53
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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54
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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55
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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56
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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57
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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58
offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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59
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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60
tedium
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| n.单调；烦闷 | |
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61
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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62
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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63
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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64
abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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65
fatten
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| v.使肥，变肥 | |
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66
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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67
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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68
buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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69
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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70
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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71
tally
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| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
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72
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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73
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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74
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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75
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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76
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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77
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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78
fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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79
fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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80
dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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81
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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82
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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83
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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84
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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85
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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86
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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87
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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88
corks
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| n.脐梅衣；软木( cork的名词复数 )；软木塞 | |
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89
bailing
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| （凿井时用吊桶）排水 | |
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90
maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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91
descry
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| v.远远看到；发现；责备 | |
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92
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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93
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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94
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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95
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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96
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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97
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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98
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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99
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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100
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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101
limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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102
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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103
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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104
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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105
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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106
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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107
hawsers
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| n.（供系船或下锚用的）缆索，锚链( hawser的名词复数 ) | |
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108
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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109
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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110
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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111
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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112
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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113
passerby
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| n.过路人，行人 | |
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114
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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115
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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116
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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117
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
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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119
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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120
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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121
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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122
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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123
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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124
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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125
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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127
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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128
attests
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| v.证明( attest的第三人称单数 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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129
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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130
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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131
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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132
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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133
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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134
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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135
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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136
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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137
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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138
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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139
bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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140
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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141
subscribes
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| v.捐助( subscribe的第三人称单数 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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142
subscriptions
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| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
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143
reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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144
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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145
requiem
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| n.安魂曲，安灵曲 | |
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