'Well, Cooky?' he began, with a suaveness1 that was cold and of the temper of steel.
'Yes, sir,' the cook eagerly interpolated, with appeasing2 and apologetic servility.
'Don't you think you've stretched that neck of yours just about enough? It's unhealthy, you know. The mate's gone, so I can't afford to lose you, too. You must be very, very careful of your health, Cooky. Understand?'
His last word, in striking contrast with the smoothness of his previous utterance3, snapped like the lash4 of a whip. The cook quailed5 under it.
'Yes, sir,' was the meek6 reply, as the offending head disappeared into the galley7.
At this rebuke8 the rest of the crew became uninterested and fell to work at one task or another. A number of men, however, who were lounging about a companionway between the galley and the hatch, and who did not seem to be sailors, continued talking in low tones with one another. These, I afterward9 learned, were the hunters, the men who shot the seals, and a very superior breed to common sailor-folk.
'Johansen!' Wolf Larsen called out. A sailor stepped forward obediently. 'Get your palm and needle and sew the beggar up. You'll find some old canvas in the sail-locker. Make it do.'
'What'll I put on his feet, sir?' the man asked, after the customary 'Aye, aye, sir.'
'We'll see to that,' Wolf Larsen answered, and elevated his voice in a cal of 'Cooky!'
Thomas Mugridge popped out of his galley like a jack-in-the-box.
'Go below and fill a sack with coal.'
'Any of you fellows got a Bible or prayer-book?' was the captain's next demand, this time of the hunters lounging about the companionway.
They shook their heads, and some one made a jocular remark which I did not catch, but which raised a general laugh.
Wolf Larsen made the same demand of the sailors. Bibles and prayer-books seemed scarce articles, but one of the men volunteered to pursue the quest among the watch below, returning in a minute with the information that 'they ain't none.'
The captain shrugged10 his shoulders. 'Then we'll drop him over without any palavering, unless our clerical-looking castaway has the burial service at sea by heart.'
By this time he had swung fully11 around and was facing me.
'You're a preacher, aren't you?' he asked.
The hunters- there were six of them- to a man turned and regarded me. I was painfully aware of my likeness12 to a scarecrow. A laugh went up at my appearance- a laugh that was not lessened13 or softened14 by the dead man stretched and grinning on the deck before us; a laugh that was as rough and harsh and frank as the sea itself; that arose out of coarse feelings and blunted sensibilities, from natures that knew neither courtesy nor gentleness.
Wolf Larsen did not laugh, though his gray eyes lighted with a slight glint of amusement; and in that moment, having stepped forward quite close to him, I received my first impression of the man himself- of the man as apart from his body and from the torrent16 of blasphemy17 I had heard. The face, with large features and strong lines, of the square order, yet well filled out, was apparently18 massive at first sight; but again, as with the body, the massiveness seemed to vanish and a conviction to grow of a tremendous and excessive mental or spiritual strength that lay behind, sleeping, in the deeps of his being. The jaw19, the chin, the brow rising to a goodly height and swelling20 heavily above the eyes- these, while strong in themselves, unusually strong, seemed to speak an immense vigor21 or virility22 of spirit that lay behind and beyond and out of sight. There was no sounding such a spirit, no measuring, no determining of metes23 and bounds, or neatly24 classifying in some pigeonhole25 with others of similar type.
The eyes- and it was my destiny to know them well- were large and handsome, wide apart, as the true artist's are wide, sheltering under a heavy brow and arched over by thick black eyebrows26. The eyes themselves were of that baffling protean27 gray which is never twice the same; which runs through many shades and colorings like intershot silk in sunshine; which is gray, dark and light, and greenish gray, and sometimes of the clear azure28 of the deep sea. They were eyes that masked the soul with a thousand guises29, and that sometimes opened, at rare moments, and allowed it to rush up as though it were about to fare forth30 nakedly into the world on some wonderful adventure- eyes that could brood with the hopeless somberness of leaden skies; that could snap and crackle points of fire like those that sparkle from a whirling sword; that could grow chill as an arctic landscape, and yet again, that could warm and soften15 and be all adance with love-lights, intense and masculine, luring31 and compelling, which at the same time fascinate and dominate women till they surrender in a gladness of joy and of relief and sacrifice.
But to return. I told him that, unhappily for the burial service, I was not a preacher, when he sharply demanded:
'What do you do for a living?'
I confess I had never had such a question asked me before, nor had I ever canvassed32 it. I was quite taken aback, and, before I could find myself, had sillily stammered33: 'I am a gentleman.'
His lip curled in a swift sneer34.
'I have worked, I do work,' I cried impetuously, as though he were my judge and I required vindication35, and at the same time very much aware of my arrant36 idiocy37 in discussing the subject at all.
'For your living?'
There was something so imperative38 and masterful about him that I was quite beside myself- 'rattled,' as Furuseth would have termed it, like a quaking child before a stern schoolmaster.
'Who feeds you?' was his next question.
'I have an income,' I answered stoutly39, and could have bitten my tongue the next instant. 'All of which, you will pardon my observing, has nothing whatsoever40 to do with what I wish to see you about.'
But he disregarded my protest.
'Who earned it? Eh? I thought so. Your father. You stand on dead men's legs. You've never had any of your own. You couldn't walk alone between two sunrises and hustle41 the meat for your belly42 for three meals. Let me see your hand.'
His tremendous, dormant43 strength must have stirred swiftly and accurately44, or I must have slept a moment, for before I knew it he had stepped two paces forward, gripped my right hand in his, and held it up for inspection45. I tried to withdraw it, but his fingers tightened46, without visible effort, till I thought mine would be crushed. It is hard to maintain one's dignity under such circumstances. I could not squirm or struggle like a schoolboy. Nor could I attack such a creature, who had but to twist my arm to break it. Nothing remained but to stand still and accept the indignity47. I had time to notice that the pockets of the dead man had been emptied on the deck and that his body and his grin had been wrapped from view in canvas, the folds of which the sailor Johansen was sewing together with coarse white twine48, shoving the needle through with a leather contrivance fitted on the palm of his hand.
Wolf Larsen dropped my hand with a flirt49 of disdain50.
'Dead men's hands have kept it soft. Good for little else than dishwashing and scullion-work.'
'I wish to be put ashore51,' I said firmly, for I now had myself in control.
'I shall pay you whatever you judge your delay and trouble to be worth.'
He looked at me curiously52. Mockery shone in his eyes.
'I have a counter-proposition to make, and for the good of your soul. My mate's gone, and there'll be a lot of promotion53. A sailor comes aft to take mate's place, cabin-boy goes for'ard to take sailor's place, and you take the cabin-boy's place, sign the articles for the cruise, twenty dollars per month and found. Now, what do you say? And mind you, it's for your own soul's sake. It will be the making of you. You might learn in time to stand on your own legs and perhaps to toddle54 along a bit.'
But I took no notice. The sails of the vessel55 I had seen off to the southwest had grown larger and plainer. They were of the same rig as the Ghost's, though the hull56 itself, I could see, was smaller. She was a pretty sight, leaping and flying toward us, and evidently bound to pass at close range. The wind had been momentarily increasing, and the sun, after a few angry gleams, had disappeared. The sea had turned a dull leaden gray and grown rougher, and was now tossing foaming57 whitecaps to the sky. We were traveling faster and heeled farther over. Once, in a gust58, the rail dipped under the sea, and the decks on that side were for the moment awash with water that made a couple of the hunters hastily lift their feet.
'That vessel will soon be passing us,' I said, after a moment's pause. 'As she is going in the opposite direction, she is very probably bound for San Francisco.'
'Very probably,' was Wolf Larsen's answer, as he turned partly away from me and cried out, 'Cooky! Oh, Cooky!'
The Cockney popped out of the galley.
'Where's that boy? Tell him I want him.'
'Yes, sir,' and Thomas Mugridge fled swiftly aft and disappeared down another companionway near the wheel. A moment later he emerged, a heavy-set young fellow of eighteen or nineteen, with a glowering59, villainous countenance60, trailing at his heels.
''Ere 'e, is, sir,' the cook said.
But Wolf Larsen ignored that worthy61, turning at once to the cabin-boy.
'What's your name, boy?'
'George Leach62, sir,' came the sullen63 answer, and the boy's bearing showed clearly that he divined the reason for which he had been summoned.
'Not an Irish name,' the captain snapped sharply. 'O'Toole or McCarthy would suit your mug a-sight better.
'But let that go,' he continued. 'You may have very good reasons for forgetting your name, and I'll like you none the worse for it as long as you toe the mark. Telegraph Hill, of course, is your port of entry. It sticks out all over your mug. Tough as they make them and twice as nasty. I know the kind. Well, you can make up your mind to have it taken out of you on this craft. Understand? Who shipped you, anyway?'
'McCready & Swanson.'
'Sir!' Wolf Larsen thundered.
'McCready & Swanson, sir,' the boy corrected, his eyes burning with a bitter light.
'Who got the advance money?'
'They did, sir.'
'I thought as much. And devilish glad you were to let them have it. Couldn't make yourself scarce too quick, with several gentlemen you may have heard of looking for you.'
The boy metamorphosed into a savage64 on the instant. His body bunched together as though for a spring, and his face became as an infuriated beast's as he snarled65, 'It's a-'
'A what?' Wolf Larsen asked, a peculiar66 softness in his voice, as though he were overwhelmingly curious to hear the unspoken word.
The boy hesitated, then mastered his temper. 'Nothin', sir. I take it back.'
'And you have shown me I was right.' This with a gratified smile. 'How old are you?'
'Just turned sixteen, sir.'
'A lie. You'll never see eighteen again. Big for your age at that, with muscles like a horse. Pack up your kit67 and go for'ard into the fo'c's'le. You're a boat-puller now. You're promoted; see?'
Without waiting for the boy's acceptance, the captain turned to the sailor who had just finished the gruesome task of sewing up the body. 'Johansen, do you know anything about navigation?'
'No, sir.'
'Well, never mind; you're mate just the same. Get your traps aft into the mate's berth68.'
'Aye, aye, sir,' was the cheery response, as Johansen started forward.
In the meantime the erstwhile cabin-boy had not moved.
'What are you waiting for?' Wolf Larsen demanded.
'I didn't sign for boat-puller, sir,' was the reply. 'I signed for cabin-boy. An' I don't want no boat-pullin' in mine.'
'Pack up and go for'ard.'
This time Wolf Larsen's command was thrillingly imperative. The boy glowered69 sullenly70, but refused to move.
Then came another vague stirring of Wolf Larsen's tremendous strength. It was utterly71 unexpected, and it was over and done with between the ticks of two seconds. He had sprung fully six feet across the deck and driven his fist into the other's stomach. At the same moment, as though I had been struck myself, I felt a sickening shock in the pit of my stomach. I instance this to show the sensitiveness of my nervous organization at the time and how unused I was to spectacles of brutality72. The cabin-boy- and he weighed one hundred and sixty-five at the very least- crumpled73 up. His body wrapped limply about the fist like a wet rag about a stick. He lifted into the air, described a short curve, and struck the deck on his head and shoulders, where he lay and writhed74 about in agony.
'Well?' Larsen asked of me. 'Have you made up your mind?'
I had glanced occasionally at the approaching schooner75, and it was now almost abreast76 of us and not more than a couple of hundred yards away. It was a very trim and neat little craft. I could see a large black number on one of its sails, and I had seen pictures of pilot-boats.
'What vessel is that?' I asked.
'The pilot-boat Lady Mine,' Wolf Larsen answered grimly. 'Got rid of her pilots and running into San Francisco. She'll be there in five or six hours with this wind.'
'Will you please signal it, then, so that I may be put ashore?'
'Sorry, but I've lost the signal-book overboard,' he remarked, and the group of hunters grinned.
I debated a moment, looking him squarely in the eyes. I had seen the frightful77 treatment of the cabin-boy, and knew that I should very probably receive the same, if not worse. As I say, I debated with myself, and then I did what I consider the bravest act of my life. I ran to the side, waving my arms and shouting:
'Lady Mine, ahoy! Take me ashore! A thousand dollars if you take me ashore!'
I waited, watching two men who stood by the wheel, one of them steering78. The other was lifting a megaphone to his lips. I did not turn my head, though I expected every moment a killing79 blow from the human brute80 behind me. At last, after what seemed centuries, unable longer to stand the strain, I looked around. He had not moved. He was standing81 in the same position, swaying easily to the roll of the ship and lighting82 a fresh cigar.
'What is the matter? Anything wrong?'
This was the cry from the Lady Mine.
'Yes!' I shouted at the top of my lungs. 'Life or death! One thousand dollars if you take me ashore!'
'Too much 'Frisco tanglefoot for the health of my crew!' Wolf Larsen shouted after. 'This one'- indicating me with his thumb- 'fancies sea-serpents and monkeys just now.'
The man on the Lady Mine laughed back through the megaphone. The pilot-boat plunged83 past.
'Give him- for me!' came a final cry, and the two men waved their arms in farewell.
I leaned despairingly over the rail, watching the trim little schooner swiftly increasing the bleak84 sweep of ocean between us. And she would probably be in San Francisco in five or six hours! My head seemed bursting. There was an ache in my throat as though my heart were up in it. A curling wave struck the side and splashed salt spray on my lips. The wind puffed86 strongly, and the Ghost heeled far over, burying her lee rail. I could hear the water rushing down upon the deck.
When I turned around, a moment later, I saw the cabin-boy staggering to his feet. His face was ghastly white, twitching88 with suppressed pain. He looked very sick.
'Well, Leach, are you going for'ard?' Wolf Larsen asked.
'Yes, sir,' came the answer of a spirit cowed.
'And you?' I was asked.
'I'll give you a thousand-' I began, but was interrupted.
'Stow that! Are you going to take up your duties as cabin-boy? Or do I have to take you in hand?'
What was I to do? To be brutally89 beaten, to be killed perhaps, would not help my case. I looked steadily90 into the cruel gray eyes. They might have been granite91 for all the light and warmth of a human soul they contained. One may see the soul stir in some men's eyes, but his were bleak and cold and gray as the sea itself.
'Well?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Say "Yes, sir."'
'Yes, sir,' I corrected.
'What is your name?'
'Van Weyden, sir.'
'First name?'
'Humphrey, sir- Humphrey Van Weyden.'
'Age?'
'Thirty-five, sir.'
'That'll do. Go to the cook and learn your duties.'
And thus it was that I passed into a state of involuntary servitude to Wolf Larsen. He was stronger than I, that was all. But it was very unreal at the time. It is no less unreal now that I look back upon it. It will always be to me as a monstrous92, inconceivable thing, a horrible nightmare.
'Hold on; don't go yet.'
I stopped obediently in my walk toward the galley.
'Johansen, call all hands. Now that we've everything cleaned up, we'll have the funeral and get the decks cleared of useless lumber93.'
While Johansen was summoning the watch below, a couple of sailors, under the captain's direction, laid the canvas-swathed corpse94 upon a hatchcover. On each side the deck, against the rail, and bottoms up, were lashed85 a number of small boats. Several men picked up the hatch-cover with its ghastly freight, carried it to the lee side, and rested it on the boats, the feet pointing overboard. To the feet was attached the sack of coal which the cook had fetched.
I had always conceived a burial at sea to be a very solemn and awe-inspiring event, but I was quickly disillusioned95, by this burial at any rate. One of the hunters, a little dark-eyed man whom his mates called 'Smoke,' was telling stories liberally intersprinkled with oaths and obscenities; and every minute or so the group of hunters gave mouth to a laughter that sounded to me like a chorus of wolves. The sailors trooped noisily aft, some of the watch below running the sleep from their eyes, and talked in low tones together. There was an ominous96 and worried expression on their faces. It was evident that they did not like the outlook of a voyage under such a captain and begun so inauspiciously. From time to time they stole glances at Wolf Larsen, and I could see that they were apprehensive97 of the man.
He stepped up to the hatch-cover, and all caps came off. I ran my eyes over them- twenty men all told, twenty-two, including the man at the wheel and myself. I was pardonably curious in my survey, for it appeared my fate to be pent up with them on this miniature floating world for I knew not how many weeks or months. The sailors, in the main, were English and Scandinavian, and their faces seemed of the heavy, stolid98 order. The hunters, on the other hand, had stronger and more diversified99 faces, with hard lines and the marks of the free play of passions. Strange to say, and I noted100 it at once, Wolf Larsen's features showed no such evil stamp. There seemed nothing vicious in them. True, there were lines, but they were the lines of decision and firmness. It seemed, rather, a frank and open countenance, which frankness or openness was enhanced by the fact that he was smooth-shaven. I could hardly believe, until the next incident occurred, that it was the face of a man who could behave as he had behaved to the cabin-boy.
At this moment, as he opened his mouth to speak, puff87 after puff struck the schooner and pressed her side under. The wind shrieked101 a wild song through the rigging. Some of the hunters glanced anxiously aloft. The whole lee rail, where the dead man lay, was buried in the sea, and as the schooner lifted and righted, the water swept across the deck, wetting us above our shoe-tops. A shower of rain drove down upon us, each drop stinging like a hailstone. As it passed, Wolf Larsen began to speak, the bareheaded men swaying in unison102 to the heave and lunge of the deck.
'I only remember one part of the service,' he said, 'and that is, "And the body shall be cast into the sea." So cast it in.'
He ceased speaking. The men holding the hatch-cover seemed perplexed103, puzzled no doubt by the briefness of the ceremony. He burst upon them in a fury.
'Lift up that end there! What the - 's the matter with you?'
They elevated the end of the hatch-cover with pitiful haste, and, like a dog flung overside, the dead man slid feet first into the sea. The coal at his feet dragged him down. He was gone.
'Johansen,' Wolf Larsen said briskly to the new mate, 'keep all hands on deck now they're here. Get in the topsails and outer jibs. We're in for a sou'easter. Reef the jib and the mainsail, too, while you're about it.'
In a moment the decks were in commotion104, Johansen bellowing105 orders and the men pulling or letting go ropes of various sorts- all naturally confusing to a landsman such as myself. But it was the heartlessness of it that especially struck me. The dead man was an episode that was past, an incident that was dropped, in a canvas covering with a sack of coal, while the ship sped along and her work went on. Nobody had been affected106. The hunters were laughing at a fresh story of Smoke's; the men pulling and hauling, and two of them climbing aloft; Wolf Larsen was studying the clouding sky to windward; and the dead man, buried sordidly107, and sinking down, down-
Then it was that the cruelty of the sea, its relentlessness108 and awfulness, rushed upon me. Life had become cheap and tawdry, a beastly and inarticulate thing, a soulless stirring of the ooze109 and slime. I held onto the weather rail, close by the shrouds110, and gazed out across the desolate111 foaming waves to the low-lying fog-banks that hid San Francisco and the California coast. Rain-squalls were driving in between, and I could scarcely see the fog. And this strange vessel, with its terrible men, pressed under by wind and sea and ever leaping up and out, as for very life, was heading away into the southwest, into the great and lonely Pacific expanse.
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1
suaveness
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| n.suave（和蔼的）的变形 | |
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appeasing
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的现在分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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4
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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virility
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| n.雄劲，丈夫气 | |
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metes
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的第三人称单数 ) | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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pigeonhole
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| n.鸽舍出入口；v.把...归类 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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protean
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| adj.反复无常的；变化自如的 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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guises
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| n.外观，伪装( guise的名词复数 )v.外观，伪装( guise的第三人称单数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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canvassed
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| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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43
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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44
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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45
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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46
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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47
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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48
twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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49
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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50
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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51
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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52
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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53
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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54
toddle
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| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
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55
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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56
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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57
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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58
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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59
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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60
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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61
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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62
leach
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| v.分离，过滤掉；n.过滤；过滤器 | |
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63
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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64
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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65
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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66
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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67
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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68
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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69
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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71
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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72
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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73
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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74
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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76
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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78
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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79
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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80
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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81
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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82
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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83
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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84
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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85
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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86
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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87
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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88
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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89
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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90
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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91
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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92
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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93
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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94
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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95
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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96
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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97
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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98
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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99
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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100
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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101
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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103
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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104
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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105
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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106
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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107
sordidly
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| adv.肮脏地；污秽地；不洁地 | |
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108
relentlessness
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109
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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110
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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111
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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