At seven o’clock there had been also a commotion1 in the prison. The news of the fever had awoke in the convicts all that love of liberty which had but slumbered2 during the monotony of the earlier part of the voyage. Now that death menaced them, they longed fiercely for the chance of escape which seemed permitted to freemen. “Let us get out!” they said, each man speaking to his particular friend. “We are locked up here to die like sheep.” Gloomy faces and desponding looks met the gaze of each, and sometimes across this gloom shot a fierce glance that lighted up its blackness, as a lightning-flash renders luridly3 luminous4 the indigo5 dullness of a thunder-cloud. By and by, in some inexplicable6 way, it came to be understood that there was a conspiracy7 afloat, that they were to be released from their shambles8, that some amongst them had been plotting for freedom. The ’tween decks held its foul9 breath in wondering anxiety, afraid to breathe its suspicions. The influence of this predominant idea showed itself by a strange shifting of atoms. The mass of villainy, ignorance, and innocence11 began to be animated12 with something like a uniform movement. Natural affinities13 came together, and like allied14 itself to like, falling noiselessly into harmony, as the pieces of glass and coloured beads15 in a kaleidoscope assume mathematical forms. By seven bells it was found that the prison was divided into three parties — the desperate, the timid, and the cautious. These three parties had arranged themselves in natural sequence. The mutineers, headed by Gabbett, Vetch, and the Moocher, were nearest to the door; the timid — boys, old men, innocent poor wretches17 condemned18 on circumstantial evidence, or rustics19 condemned to be turned into thieves for pulling a turnip20 — were at the farther end, huddling21 together in alarm; and the prudent22 — that is to say, all the rest, ready to fight or fly, advance or retreat, assist the authorities or their companions, as the fortune of the day might direct — occupied the middle space. The mutineers proper numbered, perhaps, some thirty men, and of these thirty only half a dozen knew what was really about to be done.
The ship’s bell strikes the half-hour, and as the cries of the three sentries23 passing the word to the quarter-deck die away, Gabbett, who has been leaning with his back against the door, nudges Jemmy Vetch.
“Now, Jemmy,” says he in a whisper, “tell ’em!”
The whisper being heard by those nearest the giant, a silence ensues, which gradually spreads like a ripple24 over the surface of the crowd, reaching even the bunks25 at the further end.
“Gentlemen,” says Mr. Vetch, politely sarcastic26 in his own hangdog fashion, “myself and my friends here are going to take the ship for you. Those who like to join us had better speak at once, for in about half an hour they will not have the opportunity.”
He pauses, and looks round with such an impertinently confident air, that three waverers in the party amidships slip nearer to hear him.
“You needn’t be afraid,” Mr. Vetch continues, “we have arranged it all for you. There are friends waiting for us outside, and the door will be open directly. All we want, gentlemen, is your vote and interest — I mean your —”
“Gaffing agin!” interrupts the giant angrily. “Come to business, carn’t yer? Tell ’em they may like it or lump it, but we mean to have the ship, and them as refuses to join us we mean to chuck overboard. That’s about the plain English of it!”
This practical way of putting it produces a sensation, and the conservative party at the other end look in each other’s faces with some alarm. A grim murmur27 runs round, and somebody near Mr. Gabbett laughs a laugh of mingled28 ferocity and amusement, not reassuring29 to timid people. “What about the sogers?” asked a voice from the ranks of the cautious.
“D—— the sogers!” cries the Moocher, moved by a sudden inspiration. “They can but shoot yer, and that’s as good as dyin’ of typhus anyway!”
The right chord had been struck now, and with a stifled30 roar the prison admitted the truth of the sentiment. “Go on, old man!” cries Jemmy Vetch to the giant, rubbing his thin hands with eldritch glee. “They’re all right!” And then, his quick ears catching31 the jingle32 of arms, he said, “Stand by now for the door — one rush’ll do it.”
It was eight o’clock and the relief guard was coming from the after deck. The crowd of prisoners round the door held their breath to listen. “It’s all planned,” says Gabbett, in a low growl33. “W’en the door h’opens we rush, and we’re in among the guard afore they know where they are. Drag ’em back into the prison, grab the h’arm-rack, and it’s all over.”
“They’re very quiet about it,” says the Crow suspiciously. “I hope it’s all right.”
“Stand from the door, Miles,” says Pine’s voice outside, in its usual calm accents.
The Crow was relieved. The tone was an ordinary one, and Miles was the soldier whom Sarah Purfoy had bribed34 not to fire. All had gone well.
The keys clashed and turned, and the bravest of the prudent party, who had been turning in his mind the notion of risking his life for a pardon, to be won by rushing forward at the right moment and alarming the guard, checked the cry that was in his throat as he saw the men round the door draw back a little for their rush, and caught a glimpse of the giant’s bristling35 scalp and bared gums.
“NOW!” cries Jemmy Vetch, as the iron-plated oak swung back, and with the guttural snarl36 of a charging wild boar, Gabbett hurled37 himself out of the prison.
The red line of light which glowed for an instant through the doorway38 was blotted39 out by a mass of figures. All the prison surged forward, and before the eye could wink40, five, ten, twenty, of the most desperate were outside. It was as though a sea, breaking against a stone wall, had found some breach41 through which to pour its waters. The contagion42 of battle spread. Caution was forgotten; and those at the back, seeing Jemmy Vetch raised upon the crest43 of that human billow which reared its black outline against an indistinct perspective of struggling figures, responded to his grin of encouragement by rushing furiously forward.
Suddenly a horrible roar like that of a trapped wild beast was heard. The rushing torrent44 choked in the doorway, and from out the lantern glow into which the giant had rushed, a flash broke, followed by a groan45, as the perfidious46 sentry47 fell back shot through the breast. The mass in the doorway hung irresolute48, and then by sheer weight of pressure from behind burst forward, and as it so burst, the heavy door crashed into its jambs, and the bolts were shot into their places.
All this took place by one of those simultaneous movements which are so rapid in execution, so tedious to describe in detail. At one instant the prison door had opened, at the next it had closed. The picture which had presented itself to the eyes of the convicts was as momentary49 as are those of the thaumatoscope. The period of time that had elapsed between the opening and the shutting of the door could have been marked by the musket50 shot.
The report of another shot, and then a noise of confused cries, mingled with the clashing of arms, informed the imprisoned51 men that the ship had been alarmed. How would it go with their friends on deck? Would they succeed in overcoming the guards, or would they be beaten back? They would soon know; and in the hot dusk, straining their eyes to see each other, they waited for the issue Suddenly the noises ceased, and a strange rumbling52 sound fell upon the ears of the listeners.
* * * * * *
What had taken place?
This — the men pouring out of the darkness into the sudden glare of the lanterns, rushed, bewildered, across the deck. Miles, true to his promise, did not fire, but the next instant Vickers had snatched the firelock from him, and leaping into the stream, turned about and fired down towards the prison. The attack was more sudden then he had expected, but he did not lose his presence of mind. The shot would serve a double purpose. It would warn the men in the barrack, and perhaps check the rush by stopping up the doorway with a corpse53. Beaten back, struggling, and indignant, amid the storm of hideous54 faces, his humanity vanished, and he aimed deliberately55 at the head of Mr. James Vetch; the shot, however, missed its mark, and killed the unhappy Miles.
Gabbett and his companions had by this time reached the foot of the companion ladder, there to encounter the cutlasses of the doubled guard gleaming redly in the glow of the lanterns. A glance up the hatchway showed the giant that the arms he had planned to seize were defended by ten firelocks, and that, behind the open doors of the partition which ran abaft56 the mizenmast, the remainder of the detachment stood to their arms. Even his dull intellect comprehended that the desperate project had failed, and that he had been betrayed. With the roar of despair which had penetrated57 into the prison, he turned to fight his way back, just in time to see the crowd in the gangway recoil58 from the flash of the musket fired by Vickers. The next instant, Pine and two soldiers, taking advantage of the momentary cessation of the press, shot the bolts, and secured the prison.
The mutineers were caught in a trap.
The narrow space between the barracks and the barricade59 was choked with struggling figures. Some twenty convicts, and half as many soldiers, struck and stabbed at each other in the crowd. There was barely elbow-room, and attacked and attackers fought almost without knowing whom they struck. Gabbett tore a cutlass from a soldier, shook his huge head, and calling on the Moocher to follow, bounded up the ladder, desperately60 determined61 to brave the fire of the watch. The Moocher, close at the giant’s heels, flung himself upon the nearest soldier, and grasping his wrist, struggled for the cutlass. A brawny62, bull-necked fellow next him dashed his clenched63 fist in the soldier’s face, and the man maddened by the blow, let go the cutlass, and drawing his pistol, shot his new assailant through the head. It was this second shot that had aroused Maurice Frere.
As the young lieutenant64 sprang out upon the deck, he saw by the position of the guard that others had been more mindful of the safety of the ship than he. There was, however, no time for explanation, for, as he reached the hatchway, he was met by the ascending65 giant, who uttered a hideous oath at the sight of this unexpected adversary66, and, too close to strike him, locked him in his arms. The two men were drawn67 together. The guard on the quarter-deck dared not fire at the two bodies that, twined about each other, rolled across the deck, and for a moment Mr. Frere’s cherished existence hung upon the slenderest thread imaginable.
The Moocher, spattered with the blood and brains of his unfortunate comrade, had already set his foot upon the lowest step of the ladder, when the cutlass was dashed from his hand by a blow from a clubbed firelock, and he was dragged roughly backwards68. As he fell upon the deck, he saw the Crow spring out of the mass of prisoners who had been, an instant before, struggling with the guard, and, gaining the cleared space at the bottom of the ladder, hold up his hands, as though to shield himself from a blow. The confusion had now become suddenly stilled, and upon the group before the barricade had fallen that mysterious silence which had perplexed69 the inmates70 of the prison.
They were not perplexed for long. The two soldiers who, with the assistance of Pine, had forced-to the door of the prison, rapidly unbolted that trap-door in the barricade, of which mention has been made in a previous chapter, and, at a signal from Vickers, three men ran the loaded howitzer from its sinister71 shelter near the break of the barrack berths72, and, training the deadly muzzle73 to a level with the opening in the barricade, stood ready to fire.
“Surrender!” cried Vickers, in a voice from which all “humanity” had vanished. “Surrender, and give up your ringleaders, or I’ll blow you to pieces!”
There was no tremor74 in his voice, and though he stood, with Pine by his side, at the very mouth of the levelled cannon75, the mutineers perceived, with that acuteness which imminent76 danger brings to the most stolid77 of brains, that, did they hesitate an instant, he would keep his word. There was an awful moment of silence, broken only by a skurrying noise in the prison, as though a family of rats, disturbed at a flour cask, were scampering78 to the ship’s side for shelter. This skurrying noise was made by the convicts rushing to their berths to escape the threatened shower of grape; to the twenty desperadoes cowering79 before the muzzle of the howitzer it spoke80 more eloquently81 than words. The charm was broken; their comrades would refuse to join them. The position of affairs at this crisis was a strange one. From the opened trap-door came a sort of subdued82 murmur, like that which sounds within the folds of a sea-shell, but, in the oblong block of darkness which it framed, nothing was visible. The trap-door might have been a window looking into a tunnel. On each side of this horrible window, almost pushed before it by the pressure of one upon the other, stood Pine, Vickers, and the guard. In front of the little group lay the corpse of the miserable83 boy whom Sarah Purfoy had led to ruin; and forced close upon, yet shrinking back from the trampled84 and bloody85 mass, crouched86 in mingled terror and rage, the twenty mutineers. Behind the mutineers, withdrawn87 from the patch of light thrown by the open hatchway, the mouth of the howitzer threatened destruction; and behind the howitzer, backed up by an array of brown musket barrels, suddenly glowed the tiny fire of the burning match in the hand of Vickers’s trusty servant.
The entrapped88 men looked up the hatchway, but the guard had already closed in upon it, and some of the ship’s crew — with that carelessness of danger characteristic of sailors — were peering down upon them. Escape was hopeless.
“One minute!” cried Vickers, confident that one second would be enough —“one minute to go quietly, or —”
“Surrender, mates, for God’s sake!” shrieked89 some unknown wretch16 from out of the darkness of the prison. “Do you want to be the death of us?”
Jemmy Vetch, feeling, by that curious sympathy which nervous natures possess, that his comrades wished him to act as spokesman, raised his shrill90 tones. “We surrender,” he said. “It’s no use getting our brains blown out.” And raising his hands, he obeyed the motion of Vickers’s fingers, and led the way towards the barrack.
“Bring the irons forward, there!” shouted Vickers, hastening from his perilous91 position; and before the last man had filed past the still smoking match, the cling of hammers announced that the Crow had resumed those fetters92 which had been knocked off his dainty limbs a month previously93 in the Bay of Biscay.
In another moment the trap-door was closed, the howitzer rumbled94 back to its cleatings, and the prison breathed again.
* * * * * *
In the meantime, a scene almost as exciting had taken place on the upper deck. Gabbett, with the blind fury which the consciousness of failure brings to such brute95-like natures, had seized Frere by the throat, determined to put an end to at least one of his enemies. But desperate though he was, and with all the advantage of weight and strength upon his side, he found the young lieutenant a more formidable adversary than he had anticipated.
Maurice Frere was no coward. Brutal96 and selfish though he might be, his bitterest enemies had never accused him of lack of physical courage. Indeed, he had been — in the rollicking days of old that were gone — celebrated97 for the display of very opposite qualities. He was an amateur at manly98 sports. He rejoiced in his muscular strength, and, in many a tavern99 brawl100 and midnight riot of his own provoking, had proved the fallacy of the proverb which teaches that a bully101 is always a coward. He had the tenacity102 of a bulldog — once let him get his teeth in his adversary, and he would hold on till he died. In fact he was, as far as personal vigour103 went, a Gabbett with the education of a prize-fighter; and, in a personal encounter between two men of equal courage, science tells more than strength. In the struggle, however, that was now taking place, science seemed to be of little value. To the inexperienced eye, it would appear that the frenzied104 giant, gripping the throat of the man who had fallen beneath him, must rise from the struggle an easy victor. Brute force was all that was needed — there was neither room nor time for the display of any cunning of fence.
But knowledge, though it cannot give strength, gives coolness. Taken by surprise as he was, Maurice Frere did not lose his presence of mind. The convict was so close upon him that there was no time to strike; but, as he was forced backwards, he succeeded in crooking105 his knee round the thigh106 of his assailant, and thrust one hand into his collar. Over and over they rolled, the bewildered sentry not daring to fire, until the ship’s side brought them up with a violent jerk, and Frere realized that Gabbett was below him. Pressing with all the might of his muscles, he strove to resist the leverage107 which the giant was applying to turn him over, but he might as well have pushed against a stone wall. With his eyes protruding108, and every sinew strained to its uttermost, he was slowly forced round, and he felt Gabbett releasing his grasp, in order to draw back and aim at him an effectual blow. Disengaging his left hand, Frere suddenly allowed himself to sink, and then, drawing up his right knee, struck Gabbett beneath the jaw109, and as the huge head was forced backwards by the blow, dashed his fist into the brawny throat. The giant reeled backwards, and, falling on his hands and knees, was in an instant surrounded by sailors.
Now began and ended, in less time than it takes to write it, one of those Homeric struggles of one man against twenty, which are none the less heroic because the Ajax is a convict, and the Trojans merely ordinary sailors. Shaking his assailants to the deck as easily as a wild boar shakes off the dogs which clamber upon his bristly sides, the convict sprang to his feet, and, whirling the snatched-up cutlass round his head, kept the circle at bay. Four times did the soldiers round the hatchway raise their muskets110, and four times did the fear of wounding the men who had flung themselves upon the enraged111 giant compel them to restrain their fire. Gabbett, his stubbly hair on end, his bloodshot eyes glaring with fury, his great hand opening and shutting in air, as though it gasped112 for something to seize, turned himself about from side to side — now here, now there, bellowing113 like a wounded bull. His coarse shirt, rent from shoulder to flank, exposed the play of his huge muscles. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and the blood, trickling114 down his face, mingled with the foam115 on his lips, and dropped sluggishly116 on his hairy breast. Each time that an assailant came within reach of the swinging cutlass, the ruffian’s form dilated117 with a fresh access of passion. At one moment bunched with clinging adversaries118 — his arms, legs, and shoulders a hanging mass of human bodies — at the next, free, desperate, alone in the midst of his foes119, his hideous countenance120 contorted with hate and rage, the giant seemed less a man than a demon121, or one of those monstrous122 and savage123 apes which haunt the solitudes124 of the African forests. Spurning125 the mob who had rushed in at him, he strode towards his risen adversary, and aimed at him one final blow that should put an end to his tyranny for ever. A notion that Sarah Purfoy had betrayed him, and that the handsome soldier was the cause of the betrayal, had taken possession of his mind, and his rage had concentrated itself upon Maurice Frere. The aspect of the villain10 was so appalling126, that, despite his natural courage, Frere, seeing the backward sweep of the cutlass, absolutely closed his eyes with terror, and surrendered himself to his fate.
As Gabbett balanced himself for the blow, the ship, which had been rocking gently on a dull and silent sea, suddenly lurched — the convict lost his balance, swayed, and fell. Ere he could rise he was pinioned127 by twenty hands.
Authority was almost instantaneously triumphant128 on the upper and lower decks. The mutiny was over.
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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luridly
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| adv. 青灰色的(苍白的, 深浓色的, 火焰等火红的) | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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affinities
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| n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 )；亲近；（生性）喜爱；类同 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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rustics
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| n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 )；粗野的；不雅的；用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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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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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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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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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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48
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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49
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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50
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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51
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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53
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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54
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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55
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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56
abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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57
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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58
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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59
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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60
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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61
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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62
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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63
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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65
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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66
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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67
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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68
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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69
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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70
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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71
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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72
berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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73
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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74
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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75
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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76
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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77
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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78
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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79
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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80
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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81
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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82
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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83
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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84
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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85
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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86
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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88
entrapped
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| v.使陷入圈套，使入陷阱( entrap的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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91
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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92
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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93
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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94
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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95
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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96
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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97
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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98
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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99
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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100
brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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101
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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102
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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103
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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104
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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105
crooking
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| n.弯曲（木材等的缺陷）v.弯成钩形( crook的现在分词 ) | |
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106
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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107
leverage
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| n.力量，影响；杠杆作用，杠杆的力量 | |
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108
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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109
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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110
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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111
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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112
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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113
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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114
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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115
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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116
sluggishly
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| adv.懒惰地；缓慢地 | |
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117
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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119
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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120
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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121
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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122
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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123
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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124
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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125
spurning
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的现在分词 ) | |
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126
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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127
pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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