So say the sailing directions for the South Pacific Ocean; and that is all they say. There is not a word more to help the weary voyager in making this long traverse—nor is there any word at all concerning the passage from Hawaii to the Marquesas, which lie some eight hundred miles to the northeast of Tahiti and which are the more difficult to reach by just that much. The reason for the lack of directions is, I imagine, that no voyager is supposed to make himself weary by attempting so impossible a traverse. But the impossible did not deter5 the Snark,—principally because of the fact that we did not read that particular little paragraph in the sailing directions until after we had started. We sailed from Hilo, Hawaii, on October 7, and arrived at Nuka-hiva, in the Marquesas, on December 6. The distance was two thousand miles as the crow flies, while we actually travelled at least four thousand miles to accomplish it, thus proving for once and for ever that the shortest distance between two points is not always a straight line. Had we headed directly for the Marquesas, we might have travelled five or six thousand miles.
Upon one thing we were resolved: we would not cross the Line west of 130° west longitude6. For here was the problem. To cross the Line to the west of that point, if the southeast trades were well around to the southeast, would throw us so far to leeward7 of the Marquesas that a head-beat would be maddeningly impossible. Also, we had to remember the equatorial current, which moves west at a rate of anywhere from twelve to seventy-five miles a day. A pretty pickle8, indeed, to be to leeward of our destination with such a current in our teeth. No; not a minute, nor a second, west of 130° west longitude would we cross the Line. But since the southeast trades were to be expected five or six degrees north of the Line (which, if they were well around to the southeast or south-southeast, would necessitate9 our sliding off toward south-southwest), we should have to hold to the eastward10, north of the Line, and north of the southeast trades, until we gained at least 128° west longitude.
I have forgotten to mention that the seventy-horse-power gasolene engine, as usual, was not working, and that we could depend upon wind alone. Neither was the launch engine working. And while I am about it, I may as well confess that the five-horse-power, which ran the lights, fans, and pumps, was also on the sick-list. A striking title for a book haunts me, waking and sleeping. I should like to write that book some day and to call it “Around the World with Three Gasolene Engines and a Wife.” But I am afraid I shall not write it, for fear of hurting the feelings of some of the young gentlemen of San Francisco, Honolulu, and Hilo, who learned their trades at the expense of the Snark’s engines.
It looked easy on paper. Here was Hilo and there was our objective, 128° west longitude. With the northeast trade blowing we could travel a straight line between the two points, and even slack our sheets off a goodly bit. But one of the chief troubles with the trades is that one never knows just where he will pick them up and just in what direction they will be blowing. We picked up the northeast trade right outside of Hilo harbour, but the miserable11 breeze was away around into the east. Then there was the north equatorial current setting westward12 like a mighty13 river. Furthermore, a small boat, by the wind and bucking14 into a big headsea, does not work to advantage. She jogs up and down and gets nowhere. Her sails are full and straining, every little while she presses her lee-rail under, she flounders, and bumps, and splashes, and that is all. Whenever she begins to gather way, she runs ker-chug into a big mountain of water and is brought to a standstill. So, with the Snark, the resultant of her smallness, of the trade around into the east, and of the strong equatorial current, was a long sag1 south. Oh, she did not go quite south. But the easting she made was distressing15. On October 11, she made forty miles easting; October 12, fifteen miles; October 13, no easting; October 14, thirty miles; October 15, twenty-three miles; October 16, eleven miles; and on October 17, she actually went to the westward four miles. Thus, in a week she made one hundred and fifteen miles easting, which was equivalent to sixteen miles a day. But, between the longitude of Hilo and 128° west longitude is a difference of twenty-seven degrees, or, roughly, sixteen hundred miles. At sixteen miles a day, one hundred days would be required to accomplish this distance. And even then, our objective, 128° west longitude, was five degrees north of the Line, while Nuka-hiva, in the Marquesas, lay nine degrees south of the Line and twelve degrees to the west!
There remained only one thing to do—to work south out of the trade and into the variables. It is true that Captain Bruce found no variables on his traverse, and that he “never could make easting on either tack.” It was the variables or nothing with us, and we prayed for better luck than he had had. The variables constitute the belt of ocean lying between the trades and the doldrums, and are conjectured16 to be the draughts17 of heated air which rise in the doldrums, flow high in the air counter to the trades, and gradually sink down till they fan the surface of the ocean where they are found. And they are found where they are found; for they are wedged between the trades and the doldrums, which same shift their territory from day to day and month to month.
We found the variables in 11° north latitude19, and 11° north latitude we hugged jealously. To the south lay the doldrums. To the north lay the northeast trade that refused to blow from the northeast. The days came and went, and always they found the Snark somewhere near the eleventh parallel. The variables were truly variable. A light head-wind would die away and leave us rolling in a calm for forty-eight hours. Then a light head-wind would spring up, blow for three hours, and leave us rolling in another calm for forty-eight hours. Then—hurrah!—the wind would come out of the west, fresh, beautifully fresh, and send the Snark along, wing and wing, her wake bubbling, the log-line straight astern. At the end of half an hour, while we were preparing to set the spinnaker, with a few sickly gasps20 the wind would die away. And so it went. We wagered21 optimistically on every favourable22 fan of air that lasted over five minutes; but it never did any good. The fans faded out just the same.
But there were exceptions. In the variables, if you wait long enough, something is bound to happen, and we were so plentifully23 stocked with food and water that we could afford to wait. On October 26, we actually made one hundred and three miles of easting, and we talked about it for days afterwards. Once we caught a moderate gale24 from the south, which blew itself out in eight hours, but it helped us to seventy-one miles of easting in that particular twenty-four hours. And then, just as it was expiring, the wind came straight out from the north (the directly opposite quarter), and fanned us along over another degree of easting.
In years and years no sailing vessel has attempted this traverse, and we found ourselves in the midst of one of the loneliest of the Pacific solitudes26. In the sixty days we were crossing it we sighted no sail, lifted no steamer’s smoke above the horizon. A disabled vessel could drift in this deserted27 expanse for a dozen generations, and there would be no rescue. The only chance of rescue would be from a vessel like the Snark, and the Snark happened to be there principally because of the fact that the traverse had been begun before the particular paragraph in the sailing directions had been read. Standing28 upright on deck, a straight line drawn29 from the eye to the horizon would measure three miles and a half. Thus, seven miles was the diameter of the circle of the sea in which we had our centre. Since we remained always in the centre, and since we constantly were moving in some direction, we looked upon many circles. But all circles looked alike. No tufted islets, gray headlands, nor glistening30 patches of white canvas ever marred31 the symmetry of that unbroken curve. Clouds came and went, rising up over the rim32 of the circle, flowing across the space of it, and spilling away and down across the opposite rim.
The world faded as the procession of the weeks marched by. The world faded until at last there ceased to be any world except the little world of the Snark, freighted with her seven souls and floating on the expanse of the waters. Our memories of the world, the great world, became like dreams of former lives we had lived somewhere before we came to be born on the Snark. After we had been out of fresh vegetables for some time, we mentioned such things in much the same way I have heard my father mention the vanished apples of his boyhood. Man is a creature of habit, and we on the Snark had got the habit of the Snark. Everything about her and aboard her was as a matter of course, and anything different would have been an irritation33 and an offence.
There was no way by which the great world could intrude34. Our bell rang the hours, but no caller ever rang it. There were no guests to dinner, no telegrams, no insistent35 telephone jangles invading our privacy. We had no engagements to keep, no trains to catch, and there were no morning newspapers over which to waste time in learning what was happening to our fifteen hundred million other fellow-creatures.
But it was not dull. The affairs of our little world had to be regulated, and, unlike the great world, our world had to be steered36 in its journey through space. Also, there were cosmic disturbances38 to be encountered and baffled, such as do not afflict39 the big earth in its frictionless40 orbit through the windless void. And we never knew, from moment to moment, what was going to happen next. There were spice and variety enough and to spare. Thus, at four in the morning, I relieve Hermann at the wheel.
Small wonder. The vessel does not exist that can be steered in so absolute a calm.
“I had a breeze a little while ago—maybe it will come back again,” Hermann says hopefully, ere he starts forward to the cabin and his bunk42.
The mizzen is in and fast furled. In the night, what of the roll and the absence of wind, it had made life too hideous43 to be permitted to go on rasping at the mast, smashing at the tackles, and buffeting44 the empty air into hollow outbursts of sound. But the big mainsail is still on, and the staysail, jib, and flying-jib are snapping and slashing45 at their sheets with every roll. Every star is out. Just for luck I put the wheel hard over in the opposite direction to which it had been left by Hermann, and I lean back and gaze up at the stars. There is nothing else for me to do. There is nothing to be done with a sailing vessel rolling in a stark46 calm.
Then I feel a fan on my cheek, faint, so faint, that I can just sense it ere it is gone. But another comes, and another, until a real and just perceptible breeze is blowing. How the Snark’s sails manage to feel it is beyond me, but feel it they do, as she does as well, for the compass card begins slowly to revolve47 in the binnacle. In reality, it is not revolving48 at all. It is held by terrestrial magnetism49 in one place, and it is the Snark that is revolving, pivoted50 upon that delicate cardboard device that floats in a closed vessel of alcohol.
So the Snark comes back on her course. The breath increases to a tiny puff51. The Snark feels the weight of it and actually heels over a trifle. There is flying scud52 overhead, and I notice the stars being blotted53 out. Walls of darkness close in upon me, so that, when the last star is gone, the darkness is so near that it seems I can reach out and touch it on every side. When I lean toward it, I can feel it loom54 against my face. Puff follows puff, and I am glad the mizzen is furled. Phew! that was a stiff one! The Snark goes over and down until her lee-rail is buried and the whole Pacific Ocean is pouring in. Four or five of these gusts56 make me wish that the jib and flying-jib were in. The sea is picking up, the gusts are growing stronger and more frequent, and there is a splatter of wet in the air. There is no use in attempting to gaze to windward. The wall of blackness is within arm’s length. Yet I cannot help attempting to see and gauge57 the blows that are being struck at the Snark. There is something ominous58 and menacing up there to windward, and I have a feeling that if I look long enough and strong enough, I shall divine it. Futile59 feeling. Between two gusts I leave the wheel and run forward to the cabin companionway, where I light matches and consult the barometer60. “29-90” it reads. That sensitive instrument refuses to take notice of the disturbance37 which is humming with a deep, throaty voice in the rigging. I get back to the wheel just in time to meet another gust55, the strongest yet. Well, anyway, the wind is abeam61 and the Snark is on her course, eating up easting. That at least is well.
The jib and flying-jib bother me, and I wish they were in. She would make easier weather of it, and less risky62 weather likewise. The wind snorts, and stray raindrops pelt63 like birdshot. I shall certainly have to call all hands, I conclude; then conclude the next instant to hang on a little longer. Maybe this is the end of it, and I shall have called them for nothing. It is better to let them sleep. I hold the Snark down to her task, and from out of the darkness, at right angles, comes a deluge64 of rain accompanied by shrieking65 wind. Then everything eases except the blackness, and I rejoice in that I have not called the men.
No sooner does the wind ease than the sea picks up. The combers are breaking now, and the boat is tossing like a cork66. Then out of the blackness the gusts come harder and faster than before. If only I knew what was up there to windward in the blackness! The Snark is making heavy weather of it, and her lee-rail is buried oftener than not. More shrieks67 and snorts of wind. Now, if ever, is the time to call the men. I will call them, I resolve. Then there is a burst of rain, a slackening of the wind, and I do not call. But it is rather lonely, there at the wheel, steering a little world through howling blackness. It is quite a responsibility to be all alone on the surface of a little world in time of stress, doing the thinking for its sleeping inhabitants. I recoil68 from the responsibility as more gusts begin to strike and as a sea licks along the weather rail and splashes over into the cockpit. The salt water seems strangely warm to my body and is shot through with ghostly nodules of phosphorescent light. I shall surely call all hands to shorten sail. Why should they sleep? I am a fool to have any compunctions in the matter. My intellect is arrayed against my heart. It was my heart that said, “Let them sleep.” Yes, but it was my intellect that backed up my heart in that judgment69. Let my intellect then reverse the judgment; and, while I am speculating as to what particular entity70 issued that command to my intellect, the gusts die away. Solicitude71 for mere72 bodily comfort has no place in practical seamanship, I conclude sagely73; but study the feel of the next series of gusts and do not call the men. After all, it is my intellect, behind everything, procrastinating74, measuring its knowledge of what the Snark can endure against the blows being struck at her, and waiting the call of all hands against the striking of still severer blows.
Daylight, gray and violent, steals through the cloud-pall and shows a foaming75 sea that flattens77 under the weight of recurrent and increasing squalls. Then comes the rain, filling the windy valleys of the sea with milky78 smoke and further flattening79 the waves, which but wait for the easement of wind and rain to leap more wildly than before. Come the men on deck, their sleep out, and among them Hermann, his face on the broad grin in appreciation80 of the breeze of wind I have picked up. I turn the wheel over to Warren and start to go below, pausing on the way to rescue the galley81 stovepipe which has gone adrift. I am barefooted, and my toes have had an excellent education in the art of clinging; but, as the rail buries itself in a green sea, I suddenly sit down on the streaming deck. Hermann good-naturedly elects to question my selection of such a spot. Then comes the next roll, and he sits down, suddenly, and without premeditation. The Snark heels over and down, the rail takes it green, and Hermann and I, clutching the precious stove-pipe, are swept down into the lee-scuppers. After that I finish my journey below, and while changing my clothes grin with satisfaction—the Snark is making easting.
No, it is not all monotony. When we had worried along our easting to 126° west longitude, we left the variables and headed south through the doldrums, where was much calm weather and where, taking advantage of every fan of air, we were often glad to make a score of miles in as many hours. And yet, on such a day, we might pass through a dozen squalls and be surrounded by dozens more. And every squall was to be regarded as a bludgeon capable of crushing the Snark. We were struck sometimes by the centres and sometimes by the sides of these squalls, and we never knew just where or how we were to be hit. The squall that rose up, covering half the heavens, and swept down upon us, as likely as not split into two squalls which passed us harmlessly on either side while the tiny, innocent looking squall that appeared to carry no more than a hogshead of water and a pound of wind, would abruptly82 assume cyclopean proportions, deluging83 us with rain and overwhelming us with wind. Then there were treacherous84 squalls that went boldly astern and sneaked85 back upon us from a mile to leeward. Again, two squalls would tear along, one on each side of us, and we would get a fillip from each of them. Now a gale certainly grows tiresome86 after a few hours, but squalls never. The thousandth squall in one’s experience is as interesting as the first one, and perhaps a bit more so. It is the tyro87 who has no apprehension88 of them. The man of a thousand squalls respects a squall. He knows what they are.
It was in the doldrums that our most exciting event occurred. On November 20, we discovered that through an accident we had lost over one-half of the supply of fresh water that remained to us. Since we were at that time forty-three days out from Hilo, our supply of fresh water was not large. To lose over half of it was a catastrophe89. On close allowance, the remnant of water we possessed90 would last twenty days. But we were in the doldrums; there was no telling where the southeast trades were, nor where we would pick them up.
The handcuffs were promptly91 put upon the pump, and once a day the water was portioned out. Each of us received a quart for personal use, and eight quarts were given to the cook. Enters now the psychology92 of the situation. No sooner had the discovery of the water shortage been made than I, for one, was afflicted93 with a burning thirst. It seemed to me that I had never been so thirsty in my life. My little quart of water I could easily have drunk in one draught18, and to refrain from doing so required a severe exertion94 of will. Nor was I alone in this. All of us talked water, thought water, and dreamed water when we slept. We examined the charts for possible islands to which to run in extremity95, but there were no such islands. The Marquesas were the nearest, and they were the other side of the Line, and of the doldrums, too, which made it even worse. We were in 3° north latitude, while the Marquesas were 9° south latitude—a difference of over a thousand miles. Furthermore, the Marquesas lay some fourteen degrees to the west of our longitude. A pretty pickle for a handful of creatures sweltering on the ocean in the heat of tropic calms.
We rigged lines on either side between the main and mizzen riggings. To these we laced the big deck awning96, hoisting97 it up aft with a sailing pennant98 so that any rain it might collect would run forward where it could be caught. Here and there squalls passed across the circle of the sea. All day we watched them, now to port or starboard, and again ahead or astern. But never one came near enough to wet us. In the afternoon a big one bore down upon us. It spread out across the ocean as it approached, and we could see it emptying countless99 thousands of gallons into the salt sea. Extra attention was paid to the awning and then we waited. Warren, Martin, and Hermann made a vivid picture. Grouped together, holding on to the rigging, swaying to the roll, they were gazing intently at the squall. Strain, anxiety, and yearning100 were in every posture101 of their bodies. Beside them was the dry and empty awning. But they seemed to grow limp and to droop102 as the squall broke in half, one part passing on ahead, the other drawing astern and going to leeward.
But that night came rain. Martin, whose psychological thirst had compelled him to drink his quart of water early, got his mouth down to the lip of the awning and drank the deepest draught I ever have seen drunk. The precious water came down in bucketfuls and tubfuls, and in two hours we caught and stored away in the tanks one hundred and twenty gallons. Strange to say, in all the rest of our voyage to the Marquesas not another drop of rain fell on board. If that squall had missed us, the handcuffs would have remained on the pump, and we would have busied ourselves with utilizing103 our surplus gasolene for distillation104 purposes.
Then there was the fishing. One did not have to go in search of it, for it was there at the rail. A three-inch steel hook, on the end of a stout105 line, with a piece of white rag for bait, was all that was necessary to catch bonitas weighing from ten to twenty-five pounds. Bonitas feed on flying-fish, wherefore they are unaccustomed to nibbling106 at the hook. They strike as gamely as the gamest fish in the sea, and their first run is something that no man who has ever caught them will forget. Also, bonitas are the veriest cannibals. The instant one is hooked he is attacked by his fellows. Often and often we hauled them on board with fresh, clean-bitten holes in them the size of teacups.
One school of bonitas, numbering many thousands, stayed with us day and night for more than three weeks. Aided by the Snark, it was great hunting; for they cut a swath of destruction through the ocean half a mile wide and fifteen hundred miles in length. They ranged along abreast107 of the Snark on either side, pouncing108 upon the flying-fish her forefoot scared up. Since they were continually pursuing astern the flying-fish that survived for several flights, they were always overtaking the Snark, and at any time one could glance astern and on the front of a breaking wave see scores of their silvery forms coasting down just under the surface. When they had eaten their fill, it was their delight to get in the shadow of the boat, or of her sails, and a hundred or so were always to be seen lazily sliding along and keeping cool.
But the poor flying-fish! Pursued and eaten alive by the bonitas and dolphins, they sought flight in the air, where the swooping109 seabirds drove them back into the water. Under heaven there was no refuge for them. Flying-fish do not play when they essay the air. It is a life-and-death affair with them. A thousand times a day we could lift our eyes and see the tragedy played out. The swift, broken circling of a guny might attract one’s attention. A glance beneath shows the back of a dolphin breaking the surface in a wild rush. Just in front of its nose a shimmering110 palpitant streak111 of silver shoots from the water into the air—a delicate, organic mechanism112 of flight, endowed with sensation, power of direction, and love of life. The guny swoops113 for it and misses, and the flying-fish, gaining its altitude by rising, kite-like, against the wind, turns in a half-circle and skims off to leeward, gliding114 on the bosom115 of the wind. Beneath it, the wake of the dolphin shows in churning foam76. So he follows, gazing upward with large eyes at the flashing breakfast that navigates116 an element other than his own. He cannot rise to so lofty occasion, but he is a thorough-going empiricist, and he knows, sooner or later, if not gobbled up by the guny, that the flying-fish must return to the water. And then—breakfast. We used to pity the poor winged fish. It was sad to see such sordid117 and bloody118 slaughter119. And then, in the night watches, when a forlorn little flying-fish struck the mainsail and fell gasping120 and splattering on the deck, we would rush for it just as eagerly, just as greedily, just as voraciously121, as the dolphins and bonitas. For know that flying-fish are most toothsome for breakfast. It is always a wonder to me that such dainty meat does not build dainty tissue in the bodies of the devourers. Perhaps the dolphins and bonitas are coarser-fibred because of the high speed at which they drive their bodies in order to catch their prey122. But then again, the flying-fish drive their bodies at high speed, too.
Sharks we caught occasionally, on large hooks, with chain-swivels, bent123 on a length of small rope. And sharks meant pilot-fish, and remoras, and various sorts of parasitic124 creatures. Regular man-eaters some of the sharks proved, tiger-eyed and with twelve rows of teeth, razor-sharp. By the way, we of the Snark are agreed that we have eaten many fish that will not compare with baked shark smothered125 in tomato dressing126. In the calms we occasionally caught a fish called “haké” by the Japanese cook. And once, on a spoon-hook trolling a hundred yards astern, we caught a snake-like fish, over three feet in length and not more than three inches in diameter, with four fangs127 in his jaw128. He proved the most delicious fish—delicious in meat and flavour—that we have ever eaten on board.
The most welcome addition to our larder129 was a green sea-turtle, weighing a full hundred pounds and appearing on the table most appetizingly in steaks, soups, and stews130, and finally in a wonderful curry131 which tempted25 all hands into eating more rice than was good for them. The turtle was sighted to windward, calmly sleeping on the surface in the midst of a huge school of curious dolphins. It was a deep-sea turtle of a surety, for the nearest land was a thousand miles away. We put the Snark about and went back for him, Hermann driving the granes into his head and neck. When hauled aboard, numerous remora were clinging to his shell, and out of the hollows at the roots of his flippers crawled several large crabs132. It did not take the crew of the Snark longer than the next meal to reach the unanimous conclusion that it would willingly put the Snark about any time for a turtle.
But it is the dolphin that is the king of deep-sea fishes. Never is his colour twice quite the same. Swimming in the sea, an ethereal creature of palest azure133, he displays in that one guise134 a miracle of colour. But it is nothing compared with the displays of which he is capable. At one time he will appear green—pale green, deep green, phosphorescent green; at another time blue—deep blue, electric blue, all the spectrum135 of blue. Catch him on a hook, and he turns to gold, yellow gold, all gold. Haul him on deck, and he excels the spectrum, passing through inconceivable shades of blues136, greens, and yellows, and then, suddenly, turning a ghostly white, in the midst of which are bright blue spots, and you suddenly discover that he is speckled like a trout137. Then back from white he goes, through all the range of colours, finally turning to a mother-of-pearl.
For those who are devoted138 to fishing, I can recommend no finer sport than catching139 dolphin. Of course, it must be done on a thin line with reel and pole. A No. 7, O’Shaughnessy tarpon hook is just the thing, baited with an entire flying-fish. Like the bonita, the dolphin’s fare consists of flying-fish, and he strikes like lightning at the bait. The first warning is when the reel screeches140 and you see the line smoking out at right angles to the boat. Before you have time to entertain anxiety concerning the length of your line, the fish rises into the air in a succession of leaps. Since he is quite certain to be four feet long or over, the sport of landing so gamey a fish can be realized. When hooked, he invariably turns golden. The idea of the series of leaps is to rid himself of the hook, and the man who has made the strike must be of iron or decadent141 if his heart does not beat with an extra flutter when he beholds142 such gorgeous fish, glittering in golden mail and shaking itself like a stallion in each mid-air leap. ’Ware slack! If you don’t, on one of those leaps the hook will be flung out and twenty feet away. No slack, and away he will go on another run, culminating in another series of leaps. About this time one begins to worry over the line, and to wish that he had had nine hundred feet on the reel originally instead of six hundred. With careful playing the line can be saved, and after an hour of keen excitement the fish can be brought to gaff. One such dolphin I landed on the Snark measured four feet and seven inches.
Hermann caught dolphins more prosaically143. A hand-line and a chunk144 of shark-meat were all he needed. His hand-line was very thick, but on more than one occasion it parted and lost the fish. One day a dolphin got away with a lure145 of Hermann’s manufacture, to which were lashed146 four O’Shaughnessy hooks. Within an hour the same dolphin was landed with the rod, and on dissecting147 him the four hooks were recovered. The dolphins, which remained with us over a month, deserted us north of the line, and not one was seen during the remainder of the traverse.
So the days passed. There was so much to be done that time never dragged. Had there been little to do, time could not have dragged with such wonderful seascapes and cloudscapes—dawns that were like burning imperial cities under rainbows that arched nearly to the zenith; sunsets that bathed the purple sea in rivers of rose-coloured light, flowing from a sun whose diverging148, heaven-climbing rays were of the purest blue. Overside, in the heat of the day, the sea was an azure satiny fabric149, in the depths of which the sunshine focussed in funnels150 of light. Astern, deep down, when there was a breeze, bubbled a procession of milky-turquoise ghosts—the foam flung down by the hull151 of the Snark each time she floundered against a sea. At night the wake was phosphorescent fire, where the medusa slime resented our passing bulk, while far down could be observed the unceasing flight of comets, with long, undulating, nebulous tails—caused by the passage of the bonitas through the resentful medusa slime. And now and again, from out of the darkness on either hand, just under the surface, larger phosphorescent organisms flashed up like electric lights, marking collisions with the careless bonitas skurrying ahead to the good hunting just beyond our bowsprit.
We made our easting, worked down through the doldrums, and caught a fresh breeze out of south-by-west. Hauled up by the wind, on such a slant152, we would fetch past the Marquesas far away to the westward. But the next day, on Tuesday, November 26, in the thick of a heavy squall, the wind shifted suddenly to the southeast. It was the trade at last. There were no more squalls, naught153 but fine weather, a fair wind, and a whirling log, with sheets slacked off and with spinnaker and mainsail swaying and bellying154 on either side. The trade backed more and more, until it blew out of the northeast, while we steered a steady course to the southwest. Ten days of this, and on the morning of December 6, at five o’clock, we sighted land “just where it ought to have been,” dead ahead. We passed to leeward of Ua-huka, skirted the southern edge of Nuka-hiva, and that night, in driving squalls and inky darkness, fought our way in to an anchorage in the narrow bay of Taiohae. The anchor rumbled155 down to the blatting of wild goats on the cliffs, and the air we breathed was heavy with the perfume of flowers. The traverse was accomplished156. Sixty days from land to land, across a lonely sea above whose horizons never rise the straining sails of ships.
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sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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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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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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8
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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9
necessitate
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| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
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10
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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13
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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14
bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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15
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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16
conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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18
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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19
latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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20
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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21
wagered
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| v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的过去式和过去分词 )；保证，担保 | |
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22
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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23
plentifully
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| adv. 许多地，丰饶地 | |
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24
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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25
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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26
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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27
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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28
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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29
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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30
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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31
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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32
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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33
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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34
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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35
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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36
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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37
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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38
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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39
afflict
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| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
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40
frictionless
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| adj.没有摩擦力的 | |
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41
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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42
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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43
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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44
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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45
slashing
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| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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46
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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47
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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48
revolving
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|
| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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49
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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50
pivoted
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| adj.转动的，回转的，装在枢轴上的v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的过去式和过去分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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51
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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52
scud
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| n.疾行；v.疾行 | |
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53
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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54
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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55
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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56
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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57
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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58
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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59
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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60
barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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61
abeam
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| adj.正横着(的) | |
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62
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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63
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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64
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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65
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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66
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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67
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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68
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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69
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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70
entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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71
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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72
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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73
sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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74
procrastinating
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| 拖延，耽搁( procrastinate的现在分词 )； 拖拉 | |
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75
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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76
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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77
flattens
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| 变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的第三人称单数 )； 彻底打败某人，使丢脸； 停止增长（或上升）； （把身体或身体部位）紧贴… | |
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78
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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79
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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80
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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81
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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82
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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83
deluging
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| v.使淹没( deluge的现在分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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84
treacherous
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|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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85
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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86
tiresome
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|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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87
tyro
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| n.初学者；生手 | |
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88
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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89
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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90
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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91
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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92
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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93
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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95
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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96
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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97
hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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98
pennant
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| n.三角旗；锦标旗 | |
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99
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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100
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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101
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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102
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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103
utilizing
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的现在分词 ) | |
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104
distillation
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| n.蒸馏，蒸馏法 | |
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106
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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107
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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108
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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109
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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110
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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111
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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112
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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113
swoops
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| 猛扑，突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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114
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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115
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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116
navigates
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| v.给（船舶、飞机等）引航，导航( navigate的第三人称单数 )；（从海上、空中等）横越；横渡；飞跃 | |
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117
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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118
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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119
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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120
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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121
voraciously
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| adv.贪婪地 | |
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122
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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123
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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124
parasitic
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| adj.寄生的 | |
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125
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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126
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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127
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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128
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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129
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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130
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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131
curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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132
crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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133
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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134
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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135
spectrum
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| n.谱，光谱，频谱；范围，幅度，系列 | |
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136
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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137
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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138
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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139
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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140
screeches
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| n.尖锐的声音( screech的名词复数 )v.发出尖叫声( screech的第三人称单数 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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141
decadent
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| adj.颓废的，衰落的，堕落的 | |
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142
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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143
prosaically
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| adv.无聊地；乏味地；散文式地；平凡地 | |
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144
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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145
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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146
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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147
dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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148
diverging
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| 分开( diverge的现在分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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149
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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150
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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151
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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152
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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153
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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154
bellying
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| 鼓出部；鼓鼓囊囊 | |
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155
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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156
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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