Balthamos felt the death of Baruch the moment it happened. He cried aloud and soared into the night air over the tundra1, flailing2 his wings and sobbing3 his anguish4 into the clouds; and it was some time before he could compose himself and go back to Will, who was wide awake, knife in hand, peering up into the damp and chilly5 murk. They were back in Lyra's world.
"What is it?" said Will as the angel appeared trembling beside him. "Is it danger? Get behind me...”
"Baruch is dead," cried Balthamos, "my dear Baruch is dead...”
"When? Where?"
But Balthamos couldn't tell; he only knew that half his heart had been extinguished. He couldn't keep still: he flew up again, scouring6 the sky as if to seek out Baruch in this cloud or that, calling, crying, calling; and then he'd be overcome with guilt7, and fly down to urge Will to hide and keep quiet, and promise to watch over him tirelessly; and then the pressure of his grief would crush him to the ground, and he'd remember every instance of kindness and courage that Baruch had ever shown, and there were thousands, and he'd forgotten none of them; and he'd cry that a nature so gracious could never be snuffed out, and he'd soar into the skies again, casting about in every direction, reckless and wild and stricken, cursing the very air, the clouds, the stars.
Finally Will said, "Balthamos, come here."
The angel came at his command, helpless. Shivering inside his cloak, in the hitter cold gloom of the tundra, the boy said to him, "You must try to keep quiet now. You know there are things out there that'll attack if they hear a noise. I can protect you with the knife if you're nearby, but if they attack you up there, I won't be able to help. And if you die, too, that'll be the end for me. Balthamos, I need you to help guide me to Lyra. Please don't forget that. Baruch was strong, be strong, too. Be like him for me."
At first Balthamos didn't speak, but then he said, "Yes. Yes, of course I must. Sleep now, Will, and I shall stand guard, I shan't fail you."
Will trusted him; he had to. And presently he fell asleep again.
When he woke up, soaked with dew and cold to his bones, the angel was standing8 nearby. The sun was just rising, and the reeds and the marsh9 plants were all tipped with gold.
Before Will could move, Balthamos said, "I've decided10 what I must do. I shall stay with you day and night, and do it cheerfully and willingly, for the sake of Baruch. I shall guide you to Lyra, if I can, and then I shall guide you both to Lord Asriel. I have lived thousands of years, and unless I am killed, I shall live many thousands of years more; but I never met a nature that made me so ardent12 to do good, or to be kind, as Baruch's did. I failed so many times, but each time his goodness was there to redeem14 me. Now it's not, I shall have to try without it. Perhaps I shall fail from time to time, but I shall try all the same."
"Then Baruch would be proud of you," said Will, shivering.
"Shall I fly ahead now and see where we are?"
"Yes," said Will, "fly high, and tell me what the land's like farther on. Walking on this marshland is going to take forever."
Balthamos took to the air. He hadn't told Will everything he was anxious about, because he was trying to do his best and not worry him; but he knew that the angel Metatron, the Regent, from whom they'd escaped so narrowly, would have Will's face firmly imprinted15 on his mind. And not only his face, but everything about him that angels were able to see, including parts of which Will himself was not aware, such as that aspect of his nature Lyra would have called his daemon. Will was in great danger from Metatron now, and at some time Balthamos would have to tell him; but not quite yet. It was too difficult.
Will, reckoning that it would be quicker to get warm by walking than by gathering16 fuel and waiting for a fire to catch, simply slung17 the rucksack over his shoulders, wrapped the cloak around everything, and set off toward the south. There was a path, muddy and rutted and potholed, so people did sometimes come this way; but the flat horizon was so far away on every side that he had little sense of making progress.
Sometime later, when the light was brighter, Balthamos's voice spoke18 beside him.
"About half a day's walk ahead, there is a wide river and a town, where there's a wharf19 for boats to tie up. I flew high enough to see that the river goes a long way directly south and north. If you could get a passage, then you could move much more quickly."
"Good," said Will fervently20. "And does this path go to the town?"
"It goes through a village, with a church and farms and orchards21, and then on to the town."
"I wonder what language they speak. I hope they don't lock me up if I can't speak theirs."
"As your daemon," said Balthamos, "I shall translate for you. I have learned many human languages; I can certainly understand the one they speak in this country."
Will walked on. The toil22 was dull and mechanical, but at least he was moving, and at least every step took him closer to Lyra.
The village was a shabby place: a huddle23 of wooden buildings, with paddocks containing reindeer24, and dogs that barked as he approached. Smoke crept out of the tin chimneys and hung low over the shingled25 roofs. The ground was heavy and dragged at his feet, and there had obviously been a recent flood: walls were marked with mud to halfway26 up the doors, and broken beams of wood and loose-hanging sheets of corrugated27 iron showed where sheds and verandas28 and outbuildings had been swept away.
But that was not the most curious feature of the place. At first he thought he was losing his balance, it even made him stumble once or twice, for the buildings were two or three degrees out of the vertical29, all leaning the same way. The dome30 of the little church had cracked badly. Had there been an earthquake?
Dogs were barking with hysterical31 fury, but not daring to come close. Balthamos, being a daemon, had taken the form of a large snow white dog with black eyes, thick fur, and tight-curled tail, and he snarled32 so fiercely that the real dogs kept their distance. They were thin and mangy, and the few reindeer Will could see were scabby-coated and listless.
Will paused in the center of the little village and looked around, wondering where to go, and as he stood there, two or three men appeared ahead and stood staring at him. They were the first people he had ever seen in Lyra's world. They wore heavy felt coats, muddy boots, and fur hats, and they didn't look friendly.
The white dog changed into a sparrow and flew to Will's shoulder. No one blinked an eye at this: each of the men had a daemon, Will saw, dogs, most of them, and that was how things happened in this world. On his shoulder, Balthamos whispered: "Keep moving. Don't look them in the eye. Keep your head down. That is the respectful thing to do."
Will kept walking. He could make himself inconspicuous; it was his greatest talent. By the time he got to them, the men had already lost interest in him. But then a door opened in the biggest house in the road, and a voice called something loudly.
Balthamos said softly, "The priest. You will have to be polite to him. Turn and bow."
Will did so. The priest was an immense, gray-bearded man, wearing a black cassock, with a crow daemon on his shoulder. His restless eyes moved over Will's face and body, taking everything in. He beckoned34.
Will went to the doorway35 and bowed again.
The priest said something, and Balthamos murmured, "He's asking where you come from. Say whatever you like."
"I speak English," Will said slowly and clearly. "I don't know any other languages."
"Ah, English!" cried the priest gleefully in English. "My dear young man! Welcome to our village, our little no-longer-perpendicular Kholodnoye! What is your name, and where are you going?"
"My name is Will, and I'm going south. I have lost my family, and I'm trying to find them again."
"Then you must come inside and have some refreshment," said the priest, and put a heavy arm around Will's shoulders, pulling him in through the doorway.
The man's crow daemon was showing a vivid interest in Balthamos. But the angel was equal to that: he became a mouse and crept into Will's shirt as if he were shy.
The priest led him into a parlor36 heavy with tobacco smoke, where a cast-iron samovar steamed quietly on a side table.
"What was your name?" said the priest. "Tell me again."
"Will Parry. But I don't know what to call you."
"Otyets Semyon," said the priest, stroking Will's arm as he guided him to a chair. "Otyets means Father. I am a priest of the Holy Church. My given name is Semyon, and the name of my father was Boris, so I am Semyon Borisovitch. What is your father's name?"
"John Parry."
"John is Ivan. So you are Will Ivanovitch, and I am Father Semyon Borisovitch. Where have you come from, Will Ivanovitch, and where are you going?"
"I'm lost," Will said. "I was traveling with my family to the south. My father is a soldier, but he was exploring in the Arctic, and then something happened and we got lost. So I'm traveling south because I know that's where we were going next."
The priest spread his hands and said, "A soldier? An explorer from England? No one so interesting as that has trodden the dirty roads of Kholodnoye for centuries, but in this time of upheaval37, how can we know that he will not appear tomorrow? You yourself are a welcome visitor, Will Ivanovitch. You must stay the night in my house and we will talk and eat together. Lydia Alexandrovna!" he called.
An elderly woman came in silently. He spoke to her in Russian, and she nodded and took a glass and filled it with hot tea from the samovar. She brought the glass of tea to Will, together with a little saucer of jam with a silver spoon.
"Thank you," said Will.
"The conserve38 is to sweeten the tea," said the priest. "Lydia Alexandrovna made it from bilberries."
The result was that the tea was sickly as well as bitter, but Will sipped39 it, nonetheless. The priest kept leaning forward to look closely at him, and felt his hands to see whether he was cold, and stroked his knee. In order to distract him, Will asked why the buildings in the village sloped.
"There has been a convulsion in the earth," the priest said. "It is all foretold40 in the Apocalypse of St. John. Rivers flow backward... The great river only a short way from here used to flow north into the Arctic Ocean. All the way from the mountains of central Asia it flowed north for thousands and thousands of years, ever since the Authority of God the Almighty41 Father created the earth. But when the earth shook and the fog and the floods came, everything changed, and then the great river flowed south for a week or more before it turned again and went north. The world is turned upside down. Where were you when the great convulsion came?"
"A long way from here," Will said. "I didn't know what was happening. When the fog cleared, I had lost my family and I don't know where I am now. You've told me the name of this place, but where is it? Where are we?"
"Bring me that large book on the bottom shelf," said Semyon Borisovitch. "I will show you."
The priest drew his chair up to the table and licked his fingers before turning the pages of the great atlas43.
"Here," he said, pointing with a dirty fingernail at a spot in central Siberia, a long way east of the Urals. The river nearby flowed, as the priest had said, from the northern part of the mountains in Tibet all the way to the Arctic. He looked closely at the Himalaya, but he could see nothing like the map Baruch had sketched44.
Semyon Borisovitch talked and talked, pressing Will for details of his life, his family, his home, and Will, a practiced dissembler, answered him fully11 enough. Presently the housekeeper45 brought in some beetroot soup and dark bread, and after the priest had said a long grace, they ate.
"Well, how shall we pass our day, Will Ivanovitch?" said Semyon Borisovitch. "Shall we play at cards, or would you prefer to talk?"
He drew another glass of tea from the samovar, and Will took it doubtfully.
"I can't play cards," he said, "and I'm anxious to get on and keep traveling. If I went to the river, for example, do you think I could find a passage on a steamer going south?"
The priest's huge face darkened, and he crossed himself with a delicate flick46 of the wrist.
"There is trouble in the town," he said. "Lydia Alexandrovna has a sister who came here and told her there is a boat carrying bears up the river. Armored bears. They come from the Arctic. You did not see armored bears when you were in the north?"
The priest was suspicious, and Balthamos whispered so quietly that only Will could hear: "Be careful." And Will knew at once why he'd said it: his heart had begun to pound when Semyon Borisovitch mentioned the bears, because of what Lyra had told him about them. He must try to contain his feelings.
He said, "We were a long way from Svalbard, and the bears were occupied with their own affairs."
"Yes, that is what I heard," said the priest, to Will's relief, "But now they are leaving their homeland and coming south. They have a boat, and the people of the town will not let them refuel. They are afraid of the bears. And so they should be, they are children of the devil. All things from the north are devilish. Like the witches, daughters of evil! The Church should have put them all to death many years ago. Witches, have nothing to do with them, Will Ivanovitch, you hear me? You know what they will do when you come to the right age? They will try to seduce47 you. They will use all the soft, cunning, deceitful ways they have, their flesh, their soft skin, their sweet voices, and they will take your seed, you know what I mean by that, they will drain you and leave you hollow! They will take your future, your children that are to come, and leave you nothing. They should be put to death, every one."
The priest reached across to the shelf beside his chair and took down a bottle and two small glasses.
"Now I am going to offer you a little drink, Will Ivanovitch," he said. "You are young, so not very many glasses. But you are growing, and so you need to know some things, like the taste of vodka. Lydia Alexandrovna collected the berries last year, and I distilled48 the liquor, and here in the bottle is the result, the only place where Otyets Semyon Borisovitch and Lydia Alexandrovna lie together!"
He laughed and uncorked the bottle, filling each glass to the rim49. This kind of talk made Will hideously50 uneasy. What should he do? How could he refuse to drink without discourtesy?
"Otyets Semyon," he said, standing, "you have been very kind, and I wish I could stay longer to taste your drink and to hear you talk, because what you tell me has been very interesting. But you understand I am unhappy about my family, and very anxious to find them again, so I think I must move on, much as I would like to stay."
The priest pushed out his lips, in the thicket51 of his beard, and frowned; but then he shrugged52 and said, "Well, you shall go if you must. But before you leave, you must drink your vodka. Stand with me now! Take it, and down all in one, like this!"
He threw back the glass, swallowing it all at once, and then hauled his massive body up and stood very close to Will. In his fat, dirty fingers the glass he held out seemed tiny; but it was brimming with the clear spirit, and Will could smell the heady tang of the drink and the stale sweat and the food stains on the man's cassock, and he felt sick before he began.
"Drink, Will Ivanovitch!" the priest cried, with a threatening heartiness53.
Will lifted the glass and unhesitatingly swallowed the fiery54, oily liquid in one gulp55. Now he would have to fight hard to avoid being sick.
There was one more ordeal56 to come. Semyon Borisovitch leaned forward from his great height, and took Will by both shoulders.
"My boy," he said, and then closed his eyes and began to intone a prayer or a psalm57. Vapors58 of tobacco and alcohol and sweat came powerfully from him, and he was close enough for his thick beard, wagging up and down, to brush Will's face. Will held his breath.
The priest's hands moved behind Will's shoulders, and then Semyon Borisovitch was hugging him tightly and kissing his cheeks, right, left, right again. Will felt Balthamos dig tiny claws into his shoulder, and kept still. His head was swimming, his stomach lurching, but he didn't move.
Finally it was over, and the priest stepped back and pushed him away.
"Go, then," he said, "go south, Will Ivanovitch. Go."
Will gathered his cloak and the rucksack, and tried to walk straight as he left the priest's house and took the road out of the village.
He walked for two hours, feeling the nausea59 gradually subside60 and a slow, pounding headache take its place. Balthamos made him stop at one point, and laid his cool hands on Will's neck and forehead, and the ache eased a little; but Will made himself a promise that he would never drink vodka again.
And in the late afternoon the path widened and came out of the reeds, and Will saw the town ahead of him, and beyond it an expanse of water so broad it might have been a sea.
Even from some way off, Will could see that there was trouble. Puffs61 of smoke were erupting from beyond the roofs, followed a few seconds later by the boom of a gun.
"Balthamos," he said, "you'll have to be a daemon again. Just keep near me and watch out for danger."
He walked into the outskirts62 of the scruffy63 little town, where the buildings leaned even more perilously64 than the village, and where the flooding had left its mud stains on the walls high above Will's head. The edge of the town was deserted65, but as he made his way toward the river, the noise of shouting, of screams, and of the crackle of rifle fire got louder.
And here at last there were people: some watching from upper-floor windows, some craning anxiously around the corners of buildings to look ahead at the waterfront, where the metal fingers of cranes and derricks and the masts of big vessels66 rose above the rooftops.
An explosion shook the walls, and glass fell out of a nearby window. People drew back and then peered around again, and more cries rose into the smoky air.
Will reached the corner of the street and looked along the waterfront. When the smoke and dust cleared a little, he saw one rusting68 vessel67 standing offshore69, keeping its place against the flow of the river, and on the wharf a mob of people armed with rifles or pistols surrounding a great gun, which, as he watched, boomed again. A flash of fire, a lurching recoil70, and near the vessel, a mighty42 splash.
Will shaded his eyes. There were figures in the boat, but, he rubbed his eyes, even though he knew what to expect, they weren't human. They were huge beings of metal, or creatures in heavy armor, and on the foredeck of the vessel, a bright flower of flame suddenly bloomed, and the people cried out in alarm. The flame sped into the air, rising higher and coming closer and shedding sparks and smoke, and then fell with a great splash of fire near the gun. Men cried and scattered71, and some ran in flames to the water's edge and plunged72 in, to be swept along and out of sight in the current.
Will found a man close by who looked like a teacher, and said:
"Do you speak English?"
"Yes, yes, indeed...”
"What is happening?"
"The bears, they are attacking, and we try to fight them, but it is difficult, we have only one gun, and...”
The fire thrower on the boat hurled73 another gout of blazing pitch, and this time it landed even closer to the gun. Three big explosions almost immediately afterward74 showed that it had found the ammunition75, and the gunners leapt away, letting the barrel swing down low.
"Ah," the man lamented76, "it's no good, they can't fire...”
The commander of the boat brought the vessel's head around and moved in toward the shore. Many people cried out in alarm and despair, especially when another great bulb of flame burst into being on the foredeck, and some of those with rifles fired a shot or two and turned to flee; but this time the bears didn't launch the fire, and soon the vessel moved broadside on toward the wharf, engine beating hard to hold it against the current.
Two sailors (human, not bears) leapt down to throw ropes around the bollards, and a great hiss77 and cry of anger rose from the townsfolk at these human traitors78. The sailors took no notice, but ran to lower a gangplank.
Then as they turned to go back on board, a shot was fired from somewhere near Will, and one of the sailors fell. His daemon, a seagull, vanished as if she'd been pinched out of existence like a candle flame.
The reaction from the bears was pure fury. At once the fire thrower was relit and hauled around to face the shore, and the mass of flame shot upward and then cascaded79 in a hundred spilling gouts over the rooftops. And at the top of the gangway appeared a hear larger than any of the others, an apparition80 of ironclad might, and the bullets that rained on him whined81 and clanged and thudded uselessly, unable to make the slightest dent13 in his massive armor.
Will said to the man beside him, "Why are they attacking the town?"
"They want fuel. But we have no dealings with bears. Now they are leaving their kingdom and sailing up the river, who knows what they will do? So we must fight them. Pirates, robbers...”
The great bear had come down the gangway, and massed behind him were several others, so heavy that the ship listed; and Will saw that the men on the wharf had gone back to the gun and were loading a shell into the breech.
An idea came, and he ran out onto the quayside, right into the empty space between the gunners and the bear.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop fighting. Let me speak to the bear!"
There was a sudden lull82, and everyone stood still, astonished at this crazy behavior. The bear himself, who had been gathering his strength to charge the gunners, stayed where he was, but every line of his body trembled with ferocity. His great claws dug into the ground, and his black eyes glowed with rage under the iron helmet.
"What are you? What do you want?" he roared in English, since Will had spoken in that language.
The people watching looked at one another in bewilderment, and those who could understand translated for the others.
"I'll fight you, in single combat," cried Will, "and if you give way, then the fighting has to stop."
The bear didn't move. As for the people, as soon as they understood what Will was saying, they shouted and jeered83 and hooted84 with mocking laughter. But not for long, because Will turned to face the crowd, and stood cold-eyed, contained, and perfectly86 still, until the laughter stopped. He could feel the blackbird-Balthamos trembling on his shoulder.
When the people were silent, he called out, "If I make the bear give way, you must agree to sell them fuel. Then they'll go on along the river and leave you alone. You must agree. If you don't, they'll destroy all of you."
He knew that the huge bear was only a few yards behind him, but he didn't turn; he watched the townspeople talking, gesticulating, arguing, and after a minute, a voice called, "Boy! Make the bear agree!"
Will turned back. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath and called:
"Bear! You must agree. If you give way to me, the fighting has to stop, and you can buy fuel and go peacefully up the river."
"Impossible," roared the bear. "It would be shameful87 to fight you. You are as weak as an oyster88 out of its shell. I cannot fight you."
"I agree," said Will, and every scrap89 of his attention was now focused on this great ferocious90 being in front of him. "It's not a fair contest at all. You have all that armor, and I have none. You could take off my head with one sweep of your paw. Make it fairer, then. Give me one piece of your armor, any one you like. Your helmet, for example. Then we'll be better matched, and it'll be no shame to fight me."
With a snarl33 that expressed hatred91, rage, and scorn, the bear reached up with a great claw and unhooked the chain that held his helmet in place.
And now there was a deep hush92 over the whole waterfront. No one spoke, no one moved. They could tell that something was happening such as they'd never seen before, and they couldn't tell what it was. The only sound now was the splashing of the river against the wooden pilings, the beat of the ship's engine, and the restless crying of seagulls overhead; and then the great clang as the hear hurled his helmet down at Will's feet.
Will put his rucksack down and hoisted93 the helmet up on its end. He could barely lift it. It consisted of a single sheet of iron, dark and dented94, with eyeholes on top and a massive chain underneath95. It was as long as Will's forearm, and as thick as his thumb.
"So this is your armor," he said. "Well, it doesn't look very strong to me. I don't know if I can trust it. Let me see."
And he took the knife from the rucksack and rested the edge against the front of the helmet, and sliced off a corner as if he were cutting butter.
"That's what I thought," he said, and cut another and another, reducing the massive thing to a pile of fragments in less than a minute. He stood up and held out a handful.
"That was your armor," he said, and dropped the pieces with a clatter96 onto the rest at his feet, "and this is my knife. And since your helmet was no good to me, I'll have to fight without it. Are you ready, bear? I think we're well matched. I could take off your head with one sweep of my knife, after all."
Utter stillness. The bear's black eyes glowed like pitch, and Will felt a drop of sweat trickle97 down his spine98.
Then the bear's head moved. He shook it and took a step backward.
"Too strong a weapon," he said. "I can't fight that. Boy, you win."
Will knew that a second later the people would cheer and hoot85 and whistle, so even before the bear had finished saying the word win, Will had begun to turn and call out, to keep them quiet:
"Now you must keep the bargain. Look after the wounded people and start repairing the buildings. Then let the boat tie up and refuel."
He knew that it would take a minute to translate that and let the message spread out among the watching townsfolk, and he knew, too, that the delay would prevent their relief and anger from bursting out, as a net of sandbanks baffles and breaks up the flow of a river. The bear watched and saw what he was doing and why, and understood more fully than Will himself did what the boy had achieved.
Will put the knife back in the rucksack, and he and the bear exchanged another glance, but a different kind this time. They approached, and behind them as the bears began to dismantle99 their fire thrower, the other two ships maneuvered100 their way to the quayside.
Onshore some of the people set about clearing up, but several more came crowding to see Will, curious about this boy and the power he had to command the bear. It was time for Will to become inconspicuous again, so he performed the magic that had deflected101 all kinds of curiosity away from his mother and kept them safe for years. Of course it wasn't magic, but simply a way of behaving. He made himself quiet and dull-eyed and slow, and in under a minute he became less interesting, less attractive to human attention. The people simply became bored with this dull child, and forgot him and turned away.
But the bear's attention was not human, and he could see what was happening, and he knew it was yet another extraordinary power at Will's command. He came close and spoke quietly, in a voice that seemed to throb102 as deeply as the ship's engines.
"What is your name?" he said.
"Will Parry. Can you make another helmet ?"
"Yes. What do you seek?"
"You're going up the river. I want to come with you. I'm going to the mountains and this is the quickest way. Will you take me?"
"Yes. I want to see that knife."
"I will only show it to a bear I can trust. There is one bear I've heard of who's trustworthy. He is the king of the bears, a good friend of the girl I'm going to the mountains to find. Her name is Lyra Silvertongue. The bear is called Iorek Byrnison."
"I am Iorek Byrnison," said the bear.
"I know you are," said Will.
The boat was taking fuel on board; the railcars were hauled alongside and tilted103 sideways to let coal thunder down the chutes into the hold, and the black dust rose high above them. Unnoticed by the townspeople, who were busy sweeping104 up glass and haggling105 over the price of the fuel, Will followed the bear-king up the gangway and aboard the ship.
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tundra
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| n.苔原，冻土地带 | |
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flailing
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| v.鞭打( flail的现在分词 )；用连枷脱粒；（臂或腿）无法控制地乱动；扫雷坦克 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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scouring
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| 擦[洗]净，冲刷，洗涤 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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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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marsh
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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17
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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18
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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19
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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20
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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21
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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22
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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23
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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24
reindeer
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| n.驯鹿 | |
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25
shingled
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| adj.盖木瓦的；贴有墙面板的v.用木瓦盖(shingle的过去式和过去分词形式) | |
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26
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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27
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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28
verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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29
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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30
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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31
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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32
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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33
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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34
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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36
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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37
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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38
conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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39
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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42
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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43
atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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44
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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46
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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47
seduce
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| vt.勾引，诱奸，诱惑，引诱 | |
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48
distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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49
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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50
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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51
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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52
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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54
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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56
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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58
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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59
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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60
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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61
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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62
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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63
scruffy
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| adj.肮脏的，不洁的 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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66
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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67
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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68
rusting
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| n.生锈v.（使）生锈( rust的现在分词 ) | |
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69
offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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70
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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71
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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72
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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73
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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74
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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75
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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76
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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78
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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79
cascaded
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| 级联的 | |
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80
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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81
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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82
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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83
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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86
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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87
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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88
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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89
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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90
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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91
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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92
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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93
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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95
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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96
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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97
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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98
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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99
dismantle
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| vt.拆开，拆卸；废除，取消 | |
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100
maneuvered
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵 | |
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101
deflected
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| 偏离的 | |
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102
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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103
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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104
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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105
haggling
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| v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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