My first act was to spring to the open port. The coma5 had lasted hours, for the moon was now low in the west! I ran to the door to sound the alarm. It resisted under my frantic6 hands; would not open. Something fell tinkling7 to the floor. It was the key and I remembered then that Throckmartin had turned it before we began our vigil. With memory a hope died that I had not known was in me, the hope that he had escaped from the cabin, found refuge elsewhere on the ship.
And as I stooped, fumbling8 with shaking fingers for the key, a thought came to me that drove again the blood from my heart, held me rigid9. I could sound no alarm on the Southern Queen for Throckmartin!
Conviction of my appalling10 helplessness was complete. The ensemble11 of the vessel12 from captain to cabin boy was, to put it conservatively, average. None, I knew, save Throckmartin and myself had seen the first apparition13 of the Dweller14. Had they witnessed the second? I did not know, nor could I risk speaking, not knowing. And not seeing, how could they believe? They would have thought me insane — or worse; even, it might be, his murderer.
I snapped off the electrics; waited and listened; opened the door with infinite caution and slipped, unseen, into my own stateroom. The hours until the dawn were eternities of waking nightmare. Reason, resuming sway at last, steadied me. Even had I spoken and been believed where in these wastes after all the hours could we search for Throckmartin? Certainly the captain would not turn back to Port Moresby. And even if he did, of what use for me to set forth16 for the Nan–Matal without the equipment which Throckmartin himself had decided17 was necessary if one hoped to cope with the mystery that lurked18 there?
There was but one thing to do — follow his instructions; get the paraphernalia19 in Melbourne or Sydney if it were possible; if not sail to America as swiftly as might be, secure it there and as swiftly return to Ponape. And this I determined20 to do.
Calmness came back to me after I had made this decision. And when I went up on deck I knew that I had been right. They had not seen the Dweller. They were still discussing the darkening of the ship, talking of dynamos burned out, wires short circuited, a half dozen explanations of the extinguishment. Not until noon was Throckmartin’s absence discovered. I told the captain that I had left him early in the evening; that, indeed, I knew him but slightly, after all. It occurred to none to doubt me, or to question me minutely. Why should it have? His strangeness had been noted21, commented upon; all who had met him had thought him half mad. I did little to discourage the impression. And so it came naturally that on the log it was entered that he had fallen or leaped from the vessel some time during the night.
A report to this effect was made when we entered Melbourne. I slipped quietly ashore22 and in the press of the war news Throckmartin’s supposed fate won only a few lines in the newspapers; my own presence on the ship and in the city passed unnoticed.
I was fortunate in securing at Melbourne everything I needed except a set of Becquerel ray condensers23 — but these were the very keystone of my equipment. Pursuing my search to Sydney I was doubly fortunate in finding a firm who were expecting these very articles in a consignment24 due them from the States within a fortnight. I settled down in strictest seclusion25 to await their arrival.
And now it will occur to you to ask why I did not cable, during this period of waiting, to the Association; demand aid from it. Or why I did not call upon members of the University staffs of either Melbourne or Sydney for assistance. At the least, why I did not gather, as Throckmartin had hoped to do, a little force of strong men to go with me to the Nan–Matal.
To the first two questions I answer frankly26 — I did not dare. And this reluctance27, this inhibition, every man jealous of his scientific reputation will understand. The story of Throckmartin, the happenings I had myself witnessed, were incredible, abnormal, outside the facts of all known science. I shrank from the inevitable28 disbelief, perhaps ridicule29 — nay30, perhaps even the graver suspicion that had caused me to seal my lips while on the ship. Why I myself could only half believe! How then could I hope to convince others?
And as for the third question — I could not take men into the range of such a peril31 without first warning them of what they might encounter; and if I did warn them —
It was checkmate! If it also was cowardice32 — well, I have atoned33 for it. But I do not hold it so; my conscience is clear.
That fortnight and the greater part of another passed before the ship I awaited steamed into port. By that time, between my straining anxiety to be after Throckmartin, the despairing thought that every moment of delay might be vital to him and his, and my intensely eager desire to know whether that shining, glorious horror on the moon path did exist or had been hallucination, I was worn almost to the edge of madness.
At last the condensers were in my hands. It was more than a week later, however, before I could secure passage back to Port Moresby and it was another week still before I started north on the Suwarna, a swift little sloop34 with a fifty-horsepower auxiliary35, heading straight for Ponape and the Nan–Matal.
We sighted the Brunhilda some five hundred miles south of the Carolines. The wind had fallen soon after Papua had dropped astern. The Suwarna’s ability to make her twelve knots an hour without it had made me very fully36 forgive her for not being as fragrant37 as the Javan flower for which she was named. Da Costa, her captain, was a garrulous38 Portuguese39; his mate was a Canton man with all the marks of long and able service on some pirate junk; his engineer was a half-breed China–Malay who had picked up his knowledge of power plants, Heaven alone knew where, and, I had reason to believe, had transferred all his religious impulses to the American built deity41 of mechanism42 he so faithfully served. The crew was made up of six huge, chattering43 Tonga boys.
The Suwarna had cut through Finschafen Huon Gulf44 to the protection of the Bismarcks. She had threaded the maze45 of the archipelago tranquilly46, and we were then rolling over the thousand-mile stretch of open ocean with New Hanover far behind us and our boat’s bow pointed47 straight toward Nukuor of the Monte Verdes. After we had rounded Nukuor we should, barring accident, reach Ponape in not more than sixty hours.
It was late afternoon, and on the demure48 little breeze that marched behind us came far-flung sighs of spice-trees and nutmeg flowers. The slow prodigious49 swells50 of the Pacific lifted us in gentle, giant hands and sent us as gently down the long, blue wave slopes to the next broad, upward slope. There was a spell of peace over the ocean, stilling even the Portuguese captain who stood dreamily at the wheel, slowly swaying to the rhythmic51 lift and fall of the sloop.
There came a whining52 hail from the Tonga boy lookout53 draped lazily over the bow.
“Sail he b’long port side!”
Da Costa straightened and gazed while I raised my glass. The vessel was a scant54 mile away, and must have been visible long before the sleepy watcher had seen her. She was a sloop about the size of the Suwarna, without power. All sails set, even to a spinnaker she carried, she was making the best of the little breeze. I tried to read her name, but the vessel jibed55 sharply as though the hands of the man at the wheel had suddenly dropped the helm — and then with equal abruptness57 swung back to her course. The stern came in sight, and on it I read Brunhilda.
I shifted my glasses to the man at wheel. He was crouching58 down over the spokes59 in a helpless, huddled60 sort of way, and even as I looked the vessel veered61 again, abruptly62 as before. I saw the helmsman straighten up and bring the wheel about with a vicious jerk.
He stood so for a moment, looking straight ahead, entirely63 oblivious64 of us, and then seemed again to sink down within himself. It came to me that his was the action of a man striving vainly against a weariness unutterable. I swept the deck with my glasses. There was no other sign of life. I turned to find the Portuguese staring intently and with puzzled air at the sloop, now separated from us by a scant half mile.
“Something veree wrong I think there, sair,” he said in his curious English. “The man on deck I know. He is captain and owner of the Br-rwun’ild. His name Olaf Huldricksson, what you say — Norwegian. He is eithair veree sick or veree tired — but I do not undweerstand where is the crew and the starb’d boat is gone —”
He shouted an order to the engineer and as he did so the faint breeze failed and the sails of the Brunhilda flapped down inert65. We were now nearly abreast66 and a scant hundred yards away. The engine of the Suwarna died and the Tonga boys leaped to one of the boats.
“You Olaf Huldricksson!” shouted Da Costa. “What’s a matter wit’ you?”
The man at the wheel turned toward us. He was a giant; his shoulders enormous, thick chested, strength in every line of him, he towered like a viking of old at the rudder bar of his shark ship.
I raised the glass again; his face sprang into the lens and never have I seen a visage lined and marked as though by ages of unsleeping misery67 as was that of Olaf Huldricksson!
The Tonga boys had the boat alongside and were waiting at the oars68. The little captain was dropping into it.
“Wait!” I cried. I ran into my cabin, grasped my emergency medical kit69 and climbed down the rope ladder. The Tonga boys bent70 to the oars. We reached the side and Da Costa and I each seized a lanyard dangling71 from the stays and swung ourselves on board. Da Costa approached Huldricksson softly.
“What’s the matter, Olaf?” he began — and then was silent, looking down at the wheel. The hands of Huldricksson were lashed72 fast to the spokes by thongs73 of thin, strong cord; they were swollen75 and black and the thongs had bitten into the sinewy76 wrists till they were hidden in the outraged77 flesh, cutting so deeply that blood fell, slow drop by drop, at his feet! We sprang toward him, reaching out hands to his fetters78 to loose them. Even as we touched them, Huldricksson aimed a vicious kick at me and then another at Da Costa which sent the Portuguese tumbling into the scuppers.
“Let be!” croaked79 Huldricksson; his voice was thick and lifeless as though forced from a dead throat; his lips were cracked and dry and his parched80 tongue was black. “Let be! Go! Let be!”
The Portuguese had picked himself up, whimpering with rage and knife in hand, but as Huldricksson’s voice reached him he stopped. Amazement81 crept into his eyes and as he thrust the blade back into his belt they softened82 with pity.
“Something veree wrong wit’ Olaf,” he murmured to me. “I think he crazee!” And then Olaf Huldricksson began to curse us. He did not speak — he howled from that hideously83 dry mouth his imprecations. And all the time his red eyes roamed the seas and his hands, clenched84 and rigid on the wheel, dropped blood.
“I go below,” said Da Costa nervously85. “His wife, his daughter —” he darted86 down the companionway and was gone.
Huldricksson, silent once more, had slumped87 down over the wheel.
Da Costa’s head appeared at the top of the companion steps.
“There is nobody, nobody,” he paused — then —“nobody — nowhere!” His hands flew out in a gesture of hopeless incomprehension. “I do not understan’.”
Then Olaf Huldricksson opened his dry lips and as he spoke15 a chill ran through me, checking my heart.
“The sparkling devil took them!” croaked Olaf Huldricksson, “the sparkling devil took them! Took my Helma and my little Freda! The sparkling devil came down from the moon and took them!”
He swayed; tears dripped down his cheeks. Da Costa moved toward him again and again Huldricksson watched him, alertly, wickedly, from his bloodshot eyes.
I took a hypodermic from my case and filled it with morphine. I drew Da Costa to me.
“Get to the side of him,” I whispered, “talk to him.” He moved over toward the wheel.
“Where is your Helma and Freda, Olaf?” he said.
Huldricksson turned his head toward him. “The shining devil took them,” he croaked. “The moon devil that spark —”
A yell broke from him. I had thrust the needle into his arm just above one swollen wrist and had quickly shot the drug through. He struggled to release himself and then began to rock drunkenly. The morphine, taking him in his weakness, worked quickly. Soon over his face a peace dropped. The pupils of the staring eyes contracted. Once, twice, he swayed and then, his bleeding, prisoned hands held high and still gripping the wheel, he crumpled88 to the deck.
With utmost difficulty we loosed the thongs, but at last it was done. We rigged a little swing and the Tonga boys slung89 the great inert body over the side into the dory. Soon we had Huldricksson in my bunk90. Da Costa sent half his crew over to the sloop in charge of the Cantonese. They took in all sail, stripping Huldricksson’s boat to the masts and then with the Brunhilda nosing quietly along after us at the end of a long hawser91, one of the Tonga boys at her wheel, we resumed the way so enigmatically interrupted.
I cleansed92 and bandaged the Norseman’s lacerated wrists and sponged the blackened, parched mouth with warm water and a mild antiseptic.
Suddenly I was aware of Da Costa’s presence and turned. His unease was manifest and held, it seemed to me, a queer, furtive93 anxiety.
“What you think of Olaf, sair?” he asked. I shrugged94 my shoulders. “You think he killed his woman and his babee?” He went on. “You think he crazee and killed all?”
“Nonsense, Da Costa,” I answered. “You saw the boat was gone. Most probably his crew mutinied and to torture him tied him up the way you saw. They did the same thing with Hilton of the Coral Lady; you’ll remember.”
“No,” he said. “No. The crew did not. Nobody there on board when Olaf was tied.”
“What!” I cried, startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said slowly, “that Olaf tie himself!”
“Wait!” he went on at my incredulous gesture of dissent95. “Wait, I show you.” He had been standing96 with hands behind his back and now I saw that he held in them the cut thongs that had bound Huldricksson. They were blood-stained and each ended in a broad leather tip skilfully97 spliced98 into the cord. “Look,” he said, pointing to these leather ends. I looked and saw in them deep indentations of teeth. I snatched one of the thongs and opened the mouth of the unconscious man on the bunk. Carefully I placed the leather within it and gently forced the jaws99 shut on it. It was true. Those marks were where Olaf Huldricksson’s jaws had gripped.
“Wait!” Da Costa repeated, “I show you.” He took other cords and rested his hands on the supports of a chair back. Rapidly he twisted one of the thongs around his left hand, drew a loose knot, shifted the cord up toward his elbow. This left wrist and hand still free and with them he twisted the other cord around the right wrist; drew a similar knot. His hands were now in the exact position that Huldricksson’s had been on the Brunhilda but with cords and knots hanging loose. Then Da Costa reached down his head, took a leather end in his teeth and with a jerk drew the thong74 that noosed101 his left hand tight; similarly he drew tight the second.
He strained at his fetters. There before my eyes he had pinioned102 himself so that without aid he could not release himself. And he was exactly as Huldricksson had been!
“You will have to cut me loose, sair,” he said. “I cannot move them. It is an old trick on these seas. Sometimes it is necessary that a man stand at the wheel many hours without help, and he does this so that if he sleep the wheel wake him, yes, sair.”
I looked from him to the man on the bed.
“But why, sair,” said Da Costa slowly, “did Olaf have to tie his hands?”
I looked at him, uneasily.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Do you?”
He fidgeted, avoided my eyes, and then rapidly, almost surreptitiously crossed himself.
“No,” he replied. “I know nothing. Some things I have heard — but they tell many tales on these seas.”
He started for the door. Before he reached it he turned. “But this I do know,” he half whispered, “I am damned glad there is no full moon tonight.” And passed out, leaving me staring after him in amazement. What did the Portuguese know?
I bent over the sleeper103. On his face was no trace of that unholy mingling104 of opposites the Dweller stamped upon its victims.
And yet — what was it the Norseman had said?
“The sparkling devil took them!” Nay, he had been even more explicit105 —“The sparkling devil that came down from the moon!”
Could it be that the Dweller had swept upon the Brunhilda, drawing down the moon path Olaf Huldricksson’s wife and babe even as it had drawn106 Throckmartin?
As I sat thinking the cabin grew suddenly dark and from above came a shouting and patter of feet. Down upon us swept one of the abrupt56, violent squalls that are met with in those latitudes107. I lashed Huldricksson fast in the berth108 and ran up on deck.
The long, peaceful swells had changed into angry, choppy waves from the tops of which the spindrift streamed in long stinging lashes109.
A half-hour passed; the squall died as quickly as it had arisen. The sea quieted. Over in the west, from beneath the tattered110, flying edge of the storm, dropped the red globe of the setting sun; dropped slowly until it touched the sea rim111.
I watched it — and rubbed my eyes and stared again. For over its flaming portal something huge and black moved, like a gigantic beckoning112 finger!
Da Costa had seen it, too, and he turned the Suwarna straight toward the descending113 orb114 and its strange shadow. As we approached we saw it was a little mass of wreckage115 and that the beckoning finger was a wing of canvas, sticking up and swaying with the motion of the waves. On the highest point of the wreckage sat a tall figure calmly smoking a cigarette.
We brought the Suwarna to, dropped a boat, and with myself as coxswain pulled toward a wrecked117 hydroairplane. Its occupant took a long puff118 at his cigarette, waved a cheerful hand, shouted a greeting. And just as he did so a great wave raised itself up behind him, took the wreckage, tossed it high in a swelter of foam119, and passed on. When we had steadied our boat, where wreck116 and man had been was — nothing.
There came a tug40 at the side — two muscular brown hands gripped it close to my left, and a sleek120, black, wet head showed its top between them. Two bright, blue eyes that held deep within them a laughing deviltry looked into mine, and a long, lithe121 body drew itself gently over the thwart122 and seated its dripping self at my feet.
“Much obliged,” said this man from the sea. “I knew somebody was sure to come along when the O’Keefe banshee didn’t show up.”
“The what?” I asked in amazement.
“The O’Keefe banshee — I’m Larry O’Keefe. It’s a far way from Ireland, but not too far for the O’Keefe banshee to travel if the O’Keefe was going to click in.”
I looked again at my astonishing rescue. He seemed perfectly123 serious.
“Have you a cigarette? Mine went out,” he said with a grin, as he reached a moist hand out for the little cylinder124, took it, lighted it.
I saw a lean, intelligent face whose fighting jaw100 was softened by the wistfulness of the clean-cut lips and the honesty that lay side by side with the deviltry in the laughing blue eyes; nose of a thoroughbred with the suspicion of a tilt125; long, well-knit, slender figure that I knew must have all the strength of fine steel; the uniform of a lieutenant126 in the Royal Flying Corps127 of Britain’s navy.
He laughed, stretched out a firm hand, and gripped mine.
“Thank you really ever so much, old man,” he said.
I liked Larry O’Keefe from the beginning — but I did not dream as the Tonga boys pulled us back to the Suwarna bow that liking128 was to be forged into man’s strong love for man by fires which souls such as his and mine — and yours who read this — could never dream.
Larry! Larry O’Keefe, where are you now with your leprechauns and banshee, your heart of a child, your laughing blue eyes, and your fearless soul? Shall I ever see you again, Larry O’Keefe, dear to me as some best beloved younger brother? Larry!
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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7
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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ensemble
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| n.合奏(唱)组；全套服装；整体，总效果 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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condensers
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| n.冷凝器( condenser的名词复数 )；（尤指汽车发动机内的）电容器 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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33
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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auxiliary
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| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
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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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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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50
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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51
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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52
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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53
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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54
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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55
jibed
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| v.与…一致( jibe的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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56
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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57
abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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58
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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59
spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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60
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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61
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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62
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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63
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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64
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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65
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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66
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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67
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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68
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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71
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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72
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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73
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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74
thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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75
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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76
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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77
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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78
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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80
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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81
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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82
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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83
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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84
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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86
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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87
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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88
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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89
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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90
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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91
hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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92
cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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94
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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95
dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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96
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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97
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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98
spliced
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| adj.（针织品）加固的n.叠接v.绞接( splice的过去式和过去分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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99
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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100
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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101
noosed
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| v.绞索，套索( noose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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104
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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105
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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106
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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107
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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108
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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109
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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110
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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111
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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112
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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113
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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114
orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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115
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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116
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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117
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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118
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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119
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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120
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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121
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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122
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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123
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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124
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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125
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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126
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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127
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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128
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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