It took such a very little while for Courage to feel perfectly1 contented2 and at home on the boat, that she was more than half inclined to take herself to task for a state of things which would seem to imply disloyalty to Mary Duff. As for Sylvia, she felt at home from the very first minute, and was constantly brimming over with delight. Nor was Larry far below the general level of happiness, for work seemed almost play with Courage ever at his side. As for Larry's boy, Dick, of a naturally mournful turn of mind, he too seemed carried along, quite in spite of himself, on the tide of prevailing3 high spirits. On more than one occasion he was known to laugh outright4 at some of Sylvia's remarkable5 performances, though always, it must be confessed, in deprecatory fashion, as though conscious of a perceptible loss of dignity. And who would not have been happy in that free, independent life they were leading! To be sure, there were discomforts8. Sometimes, when the lighter9 was tied to a steaming Wharf10 all day, the sun would beat mercilessly down upon them, but then they could always look forward to the cool evening-out upon the water; and so happily it seemed to be in everything—a hundred delights to offset11 each discomfort7. Even for Larry and Dick, when work was hardest and weather warmest, there was a sure prospect12 of the yellow pitcher13 of iced tea, which Courage never failed to bring midway in the long morning, and then at the end of the day the leisurely14, comfortable dinner, for they were quite aristocratic in their tastes, this little boat's company.
No noon dinner for them, with Larry in workaday clothes and the stove in the tiny kitchen piping its hottest at precisely15 the hour when its services could best be dispensed16 with, but a leisurely seven-o'clock dinner, with the lighter anchored off shore, and when, as a rule, Dick also had had time to “tidy up,” and could share the meal with them. And in this, you see, they were not aristocratic at all. Even little black Sylvia had a seat at one side of the table, which she occupied as continuously as her culinary duties would admit.
One night, when Larry stood talking to a friend on the wharf, Courage and Sylvia overheard him say, “They're a darned competent little pair, I can tell you.” Now, of course, this was rather questionable18 English for a respectable old man like Larry, but he intended it for the highest sort of praise, and the children could hardly help being pleased.
“Larry oughtn't to use such words,” said Courage.
“But den6 I specs he only mean dat we jes' knows how to do tings,” said Sylvia apologetically; and as that was exactly what Larry did mean, we must forgive him the over-expressive word; besides they were, in point of fact, the most competent pair imaginable.
Early every morning, when near the city, Dick would bring the lighter alongside a wharf, and Courage and Sylvia would set off for the nearest market, Sylvia carrying a basket, and always wearing a square of bright plaid gingham knotted round her head. There was no remembrance for her of father or of mother, or of much that would have proved dear to her warm little heart, but tucked away in a corner of her memory were faint recollections of a Southern fish market, with the red snapper sparkling in the morning sunlight, and the old mammies, in bandana turbans, busy about their master's marketing20; and as though to make the best of this shadowy recollection, Sylvia insisted upon the turban accompaniment to the basket.
Then, after the marketing, came the early breakfast; and after that, for Courage, the many nameless duties of every housekeeper21, whether big or little; and for Sylvia the homelier tasks of daily recurrence22; but fortunately she did not deem them homely23. Why should she, when pretty Miss Sylvester, as perfect a lady as could be, herself had taught her how to do them, every one? Nor was this work, so dignified24 by the manner and method of teaching, performed in silence. Every household task had its appropriate little song, and the occasions were rare on which Sylvia did not make use of them.=
``"Washing dishes, washing dishes, suds are hot, suds are hot,
``Work away briskly, work away briskly, do not stop, do not stop,"=
was the refrain that would greet the ear first thing after breakfast, followed by=
```If you do them nicely, all can tell, all can tell,"=
and so on ad infinitum.
Then, after everything had been gotten into “ship-shape” condition, came the mending, of which there seemed to be an unending supply. Tarry and Dick were certainly very hard on their clothes, and when, once a week, Dick brought the heaping basketful aboard from the washer-woman, who lived at the Battery, Courage and Sylvia knew that needles and thimbles would need to be brought into active requisition.
Then, in odd hours, there was studying and reading, and whenever they could manage it, a little visit to be paid to Mary Duff. In addition to all this, Courage had taken upon herself one other duty, for big, fifteen-year-old Dick did not so much as know his letters. He one day blushingly confessed the fact to Courage, who indeed had long suspected it, with tears in his honest blue eyes. Dick's mother—for that is what she was, though most unworthy of the name—had shoved him out of the place he called home when he was just a mere27 slip of a lad, and since then it had been all he could manage simply to make a living for himself, with never a moment for schooling28. But a happier day had dawned. No sooner was Courage assured of his benighted30 condition than she won his everlasting31 gratitude32 by setting about to mend it. Their first need, of course, was a primer, and they immediately found one ready to the hand, or rather to the eye, for it could not be treated after the fashion of ordinary primers.
There were only seven letters in it, five capitals and two small ones, and the large letters were fully33 ten feet high. It did not even commence with an A, but C came first, and then R; then another R, followed by a little o and a a little f; and after that a large N and a large J. Indeed, C. R. R. of N. J. was all there was to it, for the letters were painted on a depot34 roof that happened to be in full sight on the evening when Dick commenced his lessons. And so Dick finally mastered the entire alphabet by the aid of the great signs in the harbor, and do you think they ever rendered half such worthy26 service?
This, then, was the story of the uneventful days as they dawned one after the other, until at last May yielding place to June, and June to July, Saturday, the first day of August, came in by the calendar, ran through its midsummer hours, and then sank to rest in the cradle of a wonderful sunset. It was such a sunset as sometimes glorifies35 the bay and the river, and will not be overlooked. Long rays of gold and crimson36 shot athwart even the narrowest and darkest cross streets of the city, compelling every one who had eyes to see and feet to walk upon to come out and enjoy its beauty; while a blaze of light, falling full upon the myriad37 windows of Brooklyn Heights, suggested the marvellous golden city of the Revelation. Full in the wake of all this glory, and just to the southeast of Bedloe's Island, Larry had moored38 the lighter. It was a favorite anchorage with all the little boat's company.
“The Statue of Liberty”, standing39 out so grandly against the western sky, and with the light of her torch shining down all night upon them, seemed always a veritable friend and protector.
To-morrow, perhaps, they would touch at Staten Island, and locking the cabin, “all hands” repair to a little church they loved well at New Brighton; or, should it prove a very warm day, they might have a little service of their own on board instead, sailing quite past the church and as far down the bay as the Bell Buoy40.
But for the present there was nothing to be done but watch the sun set, so they sat together in the lee of the cabin, silently thinking their own thoughts as the sun went down. Courage had on the blue coat and hat, and from the wistful look in her eyes, might easily have been thinking of Miss Julia. Larry sat looking at Courage more, perhaps, than at the sunset, and his face was grave and sad. Courage had noticed that it had often been so of late, and wondered what could be the trouble. After awhile Larry slowly strolled off by himself to the bow of the boat, and Courage gazed anxiously after him; then, turning to Dick, she said with a sigh, “We had better have a lesson now, Dick.”
“Ay, ay,” answered Dick, always glad of the chance.
“It's too dark for a book,” Courage added, “but there's a good sign;” whereupon Dick set himself to master two large-lettered words over on the Jersey41 shore, one of which looked rather formidable.
“Begin with the last word, Dick. You've had it before.”
“D-o-c-k—dock, of course.”
“Now the first word. Try to make it out yourself.”
Dick shrugged42 his shoulders, for it was rather a jump to a word of three syllables43, but success at last crowned his efforts. “National Docks!” he exclaimed, with the delight of unaided discovery, feeling as though the attainment44 had added a good square inch to his height. Then came another sign with the one word Storage, but that was easy, for “Prentice Stores” had been achieved the day before off the Brooklyn warehouses45, and it was only a step from one word to the other. Finally, when there were no new signs to conquer, Courage began a sort of review, from memory, of all they had been over. In the midst of it Sylvia suddenly ran to the side of the boat, arched one black hand over her eyes that she might see the more clearly, and then flew back again.
“Dat horrid46 statue boy is comin',” she cried excitedly; “I thought it looked like him, an' if onct he gets a foot on dis boat he'll keep comin', he will; I knowed him.”
“I don't see that you can help it, though,” laughed Courage; “you can't tell him that we just don't want to have anything to do with him.”
Sylvia looked perplexed47, but only for a moment; then, indulging in one of those remarkable pirouettes with which she was accustomed to announce the advent48 of a happy thought, she ran back again to the boat's edge.
Meanwhile every dip of the oars49 was bringing the objectionable boy nearer, and a horrid boy he was, if one may be permitted to speak quite honestly. Dick and Sylvia had made his undesirable50 acquaintance one evening when Larry had sent them to the island to learn the right time. He was the son of one of the men employed to care for the statue, and was, alas51! every whit52 as disagreeable in manners as in looks, which is not to put the case mildly.
“Hello, Miss Woolly-head!” he called, bringing his boat to the lighter's side, and tossing a rope aboard, which Miss Woolly-head was supposed to catch, but didn't, so that the boat veered53 off again.
“What's the name of your little missus?” called the boy, apparently54 not in the least nonplussed55 by his rather chilling reception. The knowledge that Sylvia had a little “missus” had been obtained by means of several leading questions which had characterized the young gentleman's first interview with Sylvia and Dick, and which they had regarded as the very epitome56 of rudeness.
“Dis yere lighter is called for my missus,” said Sylvia, “so you kin17 jes' read her name dere on de do' plate,” pointing to the lettering at the bow of the boat, “an den again, mebbe you can't,” she chuckled57.
It looked as though the statue boy “couldn't,” for he did not so much as glance toward the bow, as he added, “Well, it's your missus I want to see, and not you, you little black pickaninny.”
“Dat's all right, sah,” and Sylvia folded her arms aggressively, “but you can't see her.”
“Ain't she in?”
“Yes, she's in, but she begs to be excuged.” This last in the most impressive manner possible.
Dick and Courage, who were sitting just out of sight, looked at each other and almost laughed outright. What remarkable phrases Sylvia seemed always to have at her tongue's end! Indeed, Dick did not know at all what was meant by the fine phrase, but fortunately the statue boy did—that is after a moment or two of reflection.
“So she don't want to see me,” he said, sullenly58 adjusting his oars with considerable more noise than was necessary; “well, no more then do I want to see her. I ain't no mind to stay where I ain't wanted, but I reckon it's the last time you'll be 'lowed to anchor your old scow over the line without there being a row about it,” and with this parting rejoinder their would-be caller beat a welcome retreat.
“Oh, Sylvia, how did you happen to think to say that?” laughed Courage.
“Why, dat's what you must allers say when anybody calls. Dey teached it in a game in de Kitchen Garden. We all stood up in a ring, an' a girl came an' knocked on yer back and axed, 'Is Mis' Brown to home?' Den you turn roun' an' say, 'Mis' Brown are to home, but begs to be excuged,' and den it was yer turn to be de caller and knock on some other girl's back.”
“But, Sylvia, if Mrs. Brown wanted to see the caller what would you say?”
“I don' prezachly recommember. I mos'ly likes de excuged one de bes'.”
Meantime Dick made his way to Larry.
“Did you know we were anchored inside the line?” he said. Larry stood up to take his bearings. “Why, so we are,” with evident annoyance59, for Larry prided himself on his observance of harbor rules.
“And I guess we've done it before,” added Dick; “the boy from the island there said it would be the last time we'd be 'lowed to do it.”
“And it ought to be,” for Larry was thoroughly60 out of patience with himself; “we'll show 'em we meant to obey orders anyway. Let go her anchor, Dick,” and then in a moment the big sail, that had been furled for the night, was spread to the wind once more, and the Courage Masterson was running out upon the bay, that she might swing in again and anchor at the proper distance from the island.
“What's up, I wonder,” said Sylvia, starting to her feet when she felt the lighter in motion. “Oh, I know; Dick's told Larry we were anchored too near,” and she settled down again in the most comfortable position imaginable, on the rug beside Courage.
“Tell me, Sylvia, what is your other name?” Courage asked after a little pause; “I've been meaning to ask you this ever so long. I think it was on the medal, but I do not remember it.”
“Sylvester,” said Sylvia complacently61, smoothing out her gingham apron62. “Sylvy Sylvester; dose two names hitch63 togedder putty tol'ble, don't dey, Miss Courage?”
“Yes, they go beautifully together; that's why you're named Sylvia, of course.”
Sylvia shook her head. “No, dat's why I'se named Sylvester.” Courage looked puzzled. “I'se named arter Miss Sylvester, one ob de Kitchen Garden ladies.”
“But, Sylvia, children can only have their first names given to them; they're born to their last names.”
“Dis chile wa'nt, Miss Courage; leastways nobody didn't know at de 'sylum what name I was bawn to, cep'n jes' Sylvy, so I picked mine out mysel'. One day I went to Miss Sylvester an' sez, kind o' mischievous64, 'How do yer like yer namesake?' 'Ain't got none, Sylvy,' sez she. 'Yes you hab,' I done told her. 'It's ten year old an' its black, but I hope yer don't mind, 'case it's me.' An' she didn't mind a bit, jes' as I knowed she wouldn't, and she sez some beautiful 'things 'bout19 as I mus' 'allers be a honor to the name, an' arter dat she gimme two books, wid Sylvy Sylvester wrote into 'em, from her everlastin' friend an' well-wisher, Mary Sylvester. Youse done seen dose two books on my table, Miss Courage. One's called—” but the sentence was not finished. Something happened just then that made both children spring to their feet and hold their breath for fear of what was coming. A few minutes before they had noticed that one of the large Sandy Hook boats seemed to be bearing down upon them, and that to all appearances they were directly in her track. But their faith in Larry was supreme65. He would surely manage to get out of the way in time, but alas! they were mistaken, for the great boat came looming66 up like a mountain beside them, and in another second there was a deafening67, heart-sickening crash, and splintering of timbers. Sylvia gave one piercing, terrified scream, while she and Courage clung as for their lives to the coping of the cabin roof. And indeed it was a terrible moment. The force of the collision sent the lighter careening so much to one side that it seemed for an instant hopeless that she could possibly right herself; and oh! low frightful68 to go down, down into that cruel dark water; but then in another instant she swung violently to the other side, and they knew that the danger of capsizing was over, though the boat was still rocking like a cradle. Then they saw the captain of the St. Johns come hurrying to the deck-rail, and heard him angrily call out, “Man alive there, are you drunk?”
“No, I'm not drunk,” Larry answered, from where he stood, pale and trembling, leaning heavily against the tiller.
“Not drunk? Then you're too green a hand to be minding a helm in salt water. Only for our reversed engines you'd not have a shingle69 under you.”
Larry made no reply; Courage, still holding Sylvia by the hand, looked daggers70 at the man. To think of any one daring to speak like that to good old Larry. Of course he was not the one to blame, and but that the two boats were fast drifting apart, she would then and there have told the St. Johns' captain what she thought of him. Just at this moment Courage noticed a lady and gentleman on the rear deck of the steamer. She saw the lady give a start of surprise and speak hurriedly to the gentleman, who immediately called in as loud a voice as he could command, “What is your name, little girl? Tell me quickly.” He meant Courage, and Courage knew that he did; but Sylvia not so understanding it, a confusion of sounds smote71 the air, of which a shrill72 little Syl was all that could by any chance be distinguished73; then in a second they were all hopelessly out of hearing of each other, and the big boat steamed on to her pier29, none the worse for the encounter save for a great ugly scar on her white-painted bow.
But alas! for Larry's lighter. Although she was still sound as a nut below the water's edge, above it she looked as though a cyclone74 had struck her. And so it was a subdued75 though a thankful little company that stowed themselves away in their berths76 an hour or so later, after the boat had again been brought to anchor, and they had had time to talk everything over. But there was one pillow that lay unpressed that night. With his mind full of anxiety, bed was out of the question for Larry, and for hours he slowly paced the deck; at least, it seemed hours to Courage, as she lay awake in her little state-room, counting his steps as he went up and down, until she knew precisely at just what number he would turn. She had first tried very hard to go to sleep. She had listened to the water quietly lapping the boat's side, imagining it a lullaby, but the lullaby proved ineffectual. At last she pulled back the curtain from the little window over her berth77, so that the light from the statue might stream in upon her, entertaining a childish notion that she might perhaps sort of blink herself to sleep; but all in vain. Finally she heard Larry come into the cabin and apparently stop there. Why didn't he go on into his state-room, she wondered. When she could stand it no longer, she put on her wrapper and slippers78, and stole out into the cabin. The little room, lighted by Liberty's torch, was bright as her own, and Larry sat at the table, his head bowed upon his folded arms. Courage went close to him, and putting out one little hand, began softly to stroke his gray hair. Larry did not start as she touched him, so she knew he must have heard her coming.
“Do you feel so very sorry about the lighter, Larry?” she asked anxiously; “will it take such a great lot of money to mend it?”
Larry did not raise his head, but it seemed to Courage that a sob79, as real as any child's, shook his strong frame.
“Please, Larry, speak to me,” Courage pleaded, and feeling her two hands against his face, Larry suffered her to lift it up. Yes, there were tears in his eyes. Courage saw them and looked right away—even to the child there was something sacred in a strong man's tears—but she slipped on to his knee, nestled her head on his shoulder, and then said, in the tenderest little voice, “It isn't just the accident, is it, Larry? Something's been troubling you this long while. Please tell me what it is. Don't forget about my name being Courage, and that p'r'aps I can help you.”
The words fell very sweetly upon Larry's ear, and he drew her closer to him, but she could feel him slowly move his head from side to side, as though it were hopeless to look for help from any quarter. Suddenly a dreadful possibility flashed itself across her mind, and sitting upright, she said excitedly, “You're not going to die, Larry? Say it isn't that, quick, Larry!”
“No, darling, it isn't that,” Larry hastened to answer, deeply touched by the agony in her voice, “but it's almost worse than dying; I'm going—” and then the word failed him, and he passed his hand significantly across his eyes.
“Not blind, Larry?” yet instantly recalling, as she spoke80, many a little incident that confirmed her fears.
“Yes, blind, Courage; that's the way it happened to-night. It was all my fault. I couldn't rightly see.”
“But, Larry, hardly any one could see, it was getting so dark.”
“Courage, darling,” Larry said tenderly, “it's been getting dark for me for a year. I shall never sail a boat again. They told me in the spring that I wasn't fit for it, but then I found you'd set your heart on being on the water with me, and so, with Dick's eyes to help, I thought I could manage just for the summer; but it's all over now, and it's plain enough that I've got to give in.”
And so Larry has done all this for her. At first Courage cannot speak, but at last she contrives81 to say, in a tearful, trembling voice, “Try not to mind, Larry. If you'll only let me take care of you, it won't matter at all whether we live on the water or not. I can be happy any-where with you.”
And Larry is in no small degree comforted. How could it be otherwise with that loyal child-heart standing up to him so bravely in his trial! And finally he tells Courage of a plan, that has come into his mind, to spend the remainder of the summer in the queerest little place that ever was heard of, and he proceeds to describe the little place to her. Courage is delighted with the scheme, and they talk quietly about it for ever so long, till after awhile, right in the midst of a sentence, Courage drops asleep on Larry's shoulder. Then, rather than disturb her, Larry sits perfectly motionless, and at last the noble gray head, drooping82 lower and lower, rests against the red-brown curls, and Larry is also asleep, while across them both slants83 a band of marvellous light from the torch of the island statue.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
prevailing
|
|
| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
outright
|
|
| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
discomforts
|
|
| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
offset
|
|
| n.分支，补偿；v.抵消，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
pitcher
|
|
| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
dispensed
|
|
| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
questionable
|
|
| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
bout
|
|
| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
marketing
|
|
| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
recurrence
|
|
| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rinse
|
|
| v.用清水漂洗，用清水冲洗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
schooling
|
|
| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
pier
|
|
| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
benighted
|
|
| adj.蒙昧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
depot
|
|
| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
glorifies
|
|
| 赞美( glorify的第三人称单数 )； 颂扬； 美化； 使光荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
myriad
|
|
| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
moored
|
|
| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
buoy
|
|
| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
jersey
|
|
| n.运动衫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
syllables
|
|
| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
warehouses
|
|
| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
oars
|
|
| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
undesirable
|
|
| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
whit
|
|
| n.一点，丝毫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
veered
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
nonplussed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的，陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
epitome
|
|
| n.典型，梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hitch
|
|
| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mischievous
|
|
| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
looming
|
|
| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
deafening
|
|
| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
shingle
|
|
| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
daggers
|
|
| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
smote
|
|
| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
cyclone
|
|
| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
berths
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
berth
|
|
| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
contrives
|
|
| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的第三人称单数 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
drooping
|
|
| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
slants
|
|
| （使）倾斜，歪斜( slant的第三人称单数 )； 有倾向性地编写或报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |