When the south-westerly winds bring great seas raging into the bay, with towering white combers dashing in upon the sands, the Thurlestone finds a voice and calls with a sound of roaring, all over this countryside. The rustics11 say that at such times you shall hear the bellowing13 of the Thurlestone ten miles distant.
For myself, I have come to Thurlestone at a time when there are no voices, save the cat-like screaming of the gulls14 and the horrible squawking noises of the cruiser setting out to sea from Hope Cove, and bidding a series of half-suffocated good-byes with her steam-whistles, dreadfully like some one being very offensively sick. Noises are not common on Thurlestone strand15, and I would even say it was lonely, save that the millions of sand-fleas inhabiting the shore forbid the thought.
I have bought a piece of Dutch cheese and some biscuits, and disregarding the inmates16 of[239] the one hideously17 plastered boarding-house recently built here, take off shoes and stockings, and sitting on a convenient rock sliding down into deep water, come into intimate touch with the infinities18, and make these notes. Two pennyworth of Dutch cheese, with biscuits to match, a comfortable seat on a rocky ledge19, your feet dabbling20 in the clear water, and sunshine over all, will bring you into close relation with the Infinite. Here I hew21 off in the rough a slab22 of the Simple Life, and enjoy it hugely. It is, I suppose, the sunshine and the solitude23 in collaboration24. At any rate, it is obviously enough not the white ale.
There are cornelians and lovely pebbles25 on this lonely strand, and sea-anemones, to the eye appetisingly like fruit-jellies, on the rocks. Alas27! they are not good to eat, and as fairy gold, we all know, turns to sere28 leaves, so the translucent29 pebbles of the wet sea-shore become the commonplace opaque30 stones that the next day we turn disgustedly out of our pockets. In short, it is life in little you find reflected here, and reduces the heady optimism of a summer noon to something like tears. I don’t expect, or hope, every one who comes to this salt margin31 of Devon will feel thus. This it is to be cursed with temperament32, to be, against your will, a snivelling sentimentalist, whom the lowing of the cattle at eventide, the distant tinkling33 of the sheep-bells, or the very beauty of day or place will suffice to reduce to a chastened melancholy34.
[240]
Thurlestone church is neighboured on the hillside in these expansive times by a golf club, which, in the interest of golf-balls, has actually had the impudence35 to spread wire-netting over the charming little rustic12 stream that here flows to the sea; and near by are the ornate brand-new villas36 built and furnished by speculators with an eye on the possible huge profits to be earned from letting them for the summer season, in these times of a revived appreciation38 of the countryside. It is with a malignant39 joy that the wayfarer40 perceives the speculators to have overreached themselves, and the villas—“white elephants” says the ferryman at Bantham—to be unlet. How, indeed, should Thurlestone become a place of resort? It is remote, and its sands, unstable41 and shelving steeply to the sea, are extremely dangerous.
The dark, stern, upstanding Perpendicular42 tower of the old church looks down grimly upon these white and red and yellow upstarts. It is a fine, large church, the successor of an earlier, as the great Norman bowl-font of red sandstone would seem to prove, and the designers of it designed in a fine, large, broad style, suited to the coarse-grained granite43 and limestone44 of their building-materials. That Rev37. Mr. John Snell, chaplain to Charles I., who was with the Royalist garrison45 in Salcombe Castle, was rector here, and although one of the articles of surrender declared that he was not to be disturbed in his living, he was plundered46 of his goods, and his farm-stock[241] was twice carried off by the Puritans, so that he found it prudent47 to leave. Unlike so many others, he lived to return to his parish, and, I have no doubt, rendered things in his turn, extremely uncomfortable for some. One little natural human touch of him remains48, in the entry in the register under his hand, against the years covered by the Commonwealth:—
“Monstrum horrendum informe,”
Horrible and shapeless monster.
“This is youre houre and ye power of darkness.”
The iron had evidently entered into his soul.
The interior of the church has of late been exquisitely49 decorated and repaired: we will not say “restored,” for that word is rightly of ill-savour in these times. In place of the almost inevitable50 pitch-pine pews, or the commonplace chairs, there are green-stained, rush-bottomed chairs, with woodwork of the same hue51: all very artistic52 and delightful53, and sufficing to show that the more usual order of things is less inevitable than might be supposed, and only so common because taste is a quality of the rarest. Only, I would that these things did not so commonly go with that new reforming zeal54 which is sending the Church of England Romewards, so fast as its clergy55 dare. Here a faculty56 has been obtained for a rood-screen, and in general things are developing at a rate dangerous to that new movement itself and bringing that counter-reformation which is presently to repeat history.[242] History, it is true, does repeat itself, but not on precisely57 identical lines, and the newer Reformation will be the disestablishment and disendowment of an unworthy Church, and free-trade in religion.
There are weird58 rocks out beyond Thurlestone, on the coastwise route round to the Avon estuary59; one of them—it may be glimpsed in the background of the Thurlestone illustration—resembling some monstrous60 growth of the mushroom kind. The direct way to the crossing of the Avon is through Thurlestone street, and thence by the hillside village of Buckland, and by Bantham, a hamlet nestling under the lee of the Ham, a great sandy elbow thrown up, ages ago, by the sea and the winds, in vain efforts to fling back the Avon upon itself. That river is no rushing torrent61, but just a softly gliding62 stream; and the sand dunes63 have not sufficed to imprison64 it. All they have done is to turn its course aside, due west instead of south, and there, denied a direct access to the sea, it has eaten away the cliffs in a great semicircular mouthful, and goes gliding out to the Channel through a waste of flat sands.
It was here in 1772 that the Chanteloupe, homeward-bound from the West Indies, was totally wrecked66, and of all those on board only one person saved. Those were the times when the fisherfolk and shore-dwellers generally prayed for wrecks67, and if none was forthcoming, helped Providence68 to produce them by exhibiting false lights on shore, to lure69 vessels70 to their doom71. They[243] thought no shame of asking, “O Lord, give us a good wreck65,” and were perhaps very little more civilised than the savages72 of strange lands, who, thinking shipwrecked sailors, to have been shipwrecked at all, must be under the high displeasure of the gods, murder them out of hand, and consider themselves, in so doing, the vicars of those affronted74 deities75.
“A good wreck,” especially if there were no survivors76 left to tell the tale, or to claim anything, would keep the seaboard of half a county in luxury of sorts for quite a considerable time, and as survivors were such detrimentals, they were, in those “good old times,” very quickly made not to survive. It was a rude, but practical application of that Socialistic doctrine77 of collectivism, of which we hear so much nowadays, “the greatest good to the greatest number.”
The story of the Chanteloupe is a dark and repellent instance of those practices. It narrates78 how a lady named Burke, familiar with the evil reputation of these people, and fearful of being murdered, put on all her jewellery when the ship struck, and was flung ashore79 glittering with precious stones. If she had thought to purchase life with that display, she made the most fatal of errors, for the sight only served to arouse the worst passions of those beach-combers, who slaughtered80 the unfortunate woman for the sake of her rings and other trinkets. When enquiries were set afoot, her body was discovered in the sands, bloodstained, with fingers cut off and ears[244] mutilated; but it does not appear that the guilt81 was brought home to any one. The fisherfolk, doubtless, all hung together, lest they should hang separately.
Two years earlier a local Quaker, one Henry Hingeston, had published a pamphlet denouncing the wrecking82 propensities83 of this coast:
“I have been deeply affected,” said he, “to see and feel how sweet the report of a shipwreck73 is to the inhabitants of this country, as well professors as prophane, and what running there is on such occasions, all other business thrown aside, and away to wreck. … I am verily persuaded that it hath been more sweet to hear that all the men are drowned, and so a ‘proper wreck,’ than that any are saved, and by that means hinder their more public appearance on that stage for getting money. O! the cruelty that hath been acted by many. My heart hath been often heavy to consider it, insomuch that I think multitudes of heathen are nothing near so bad. Remember the broadcloth slupe, stranded84 in Bigbury Bay, richly laden85. O! for shame, for shame, I am really vext that ever my countrymen should be guilty of such devilish actions.”
But the estimable Hingeston might just as effectively have preached to the gulls and the cormorants86 on the iniquity87 of catching88 fish, as to have denounced wrecking. ’Twas in the blood, and that is all there is to it.
These old tales of long-vanished days seem very remote and indistinct, but they came very[245] near and vivid when a few years ago some children digging in the sand of the Ham, turned up a skull89, pronounced to be that of a negro. It was considered, together with heaps of bones afterwards discovered, to be a relic90 of the tragedy of the Chanteloupe.
The Devonshire folk—the rustic sort, at any rate—generally call their Avon the “Aune,” and a little hamlet not far from this same Bantham is “Aunemouth;” while the village of Aveton Gifford, standing up-river, where the salt estuary becomes a freshwater stream, is impartially92 “Aveyton,” or “Auton,” “Jifford.”
At Bantham Ferry the boatman puts you across for twopence, or however much or little he thinks you will stand—and it is only the matter of a dozen strokes at low water. And then you have the sands, the loose stones, and the rustling93 bennets and the sedges all to yourself; a kind of seashore Sahara. Then you round a rocky point; and there before you is Burr Island, a majestic94 reek95 of acetylene, or other gas, and people. Wide stretch the sands at ebb26, but they are not so wide but that the prints of footsteps have disfigured them pretty thoroughly96; for where the land slopes down to the shore in grassy97 fields, the Plymouth people have built bungalows98, and are building more. Burr, or Borough99, Island is tethered to the mainland at ebb by this nexus100 of sand. It is in this circumstance a kind of minor101 St. Michael’s Mount, and like it again in that it once owned a chapel102 dedicated103 to St. Michael.[246] The chapel disappeared in the lang syne104, and when the solitary105 public-house—whose deserted106 roof-tree may still be seen—ceased business, civilisation107 and Borough Island wholly parted company.
Beyond this point is the little sand-smothered bight of Challaborough, with a coastguard station, where this explorer, at least, met coastguards of exceptional stupidity and astonishing ignorance of the coast beyond their own insignificant109 nook. Why, they could not even spell or pronounce the name of their own station properly, and made it “Shellaborough.” “Erme Mouth?” they had never heard of it, nor of the Erme River, but dimly conceived “Muddycombe,” to be meant. And as for the coast, they spoke110 of it in such awestruck terms that (it shall be confessed) the time drawing on towards evening, I made inland, and so do not know’ what manner of dragons and chimeras111 those are, which no doubt inhabit the three miles and a half of a not very rugged112 shore, awaiting the advent113 of a fine juicy tourist.
Primitive114, indeed, are those villages that lie away back from the sea in these parts. First comes Kingmore, where the rock outcrops from the macadam in the main road, where the cottages are half-smothered in flowers, and where the domestic fowls115 that squatter116 and plunge117 in dust-baths in the middle of the street are the only signs of life. Reminiscences of the old window-tax are called up by a house with a walled-up window, carefully painted with a pretence118 of being a genuine one of panes119 and sashes. Even the[247] brass120 catch has not been forgotten by the artist in illusion, whose treatment is so literal, he must have been the forerunner121 of the Newlyn School. The brass catch is rendered more than a thought too brassy, and the unfortunately painted panes are by no means convincing. But the deception122 although so grotesquely123 obvious, could not, under such opaque circumstances, be called transparent124, could it?
Like the Reverend Mr. Snell of Thurlestone, William Lane, rector of Ringmore, was a militant125 Royalist. He raised and trained a company of men and, laying hands upon some cannon126, opened out a battery against the Parliamentary forces on their way to the leaguer of Salcombe. His exploit made him a marked man, and he was considered sufficiently127 important for an expedition to be sent against him by sea from the Parliamentary stronghold of Plymouth. The orders given the commander of this force were to capture and shoot the combatant cleric; but Mr. Lane, advised of what was afoot, took refuge in the tower of his church, where the secret room, provided with a fireplace, in which he hid is still to be seen. Here he lay three months, fed by his faithful parishioners, but was at last obliged to escape to France. At last, venturing to return, he worked for awhile as a labourer in the limestone quarries128 near Torquay, until his little dwelling129 was pillaged130 by a French privateer. He died at last when on his return from London, whither he had journeyed on foot to ventilate his grievances131.
[248]
The ancient church of Ringmore contains a relic of more recent strife132, in the shape of an icon133 from Sebastopol.
At Kingston, on the way across to the river Erme, there is but one inn. The “Sloop” is the name of it, and there, if you wait half-an-hour, while the cocks and hens run in and out of the rooms and passages, they will get you tea. There is very little of a Lyons’ or other tea-shop about the “Sloop.” And Kingston village is to match; primitive Devonian in style, which is a style partaking of all the characteristics belonging to the untamed villages of Cornwall, Ireland, and the Highlands of Scotland. There are very few of the type left now, which is a cause for thankfulness, or regret, as you will, and they ought to be preserved on ice and kept for the admiration134, or otherwise, of posterity135.
Out of Kingston the road runs deep down below the level of the fields, in true Devonshire sort, with high banks and tall hedges on either side, so that no view is possible. Nor would it have mattered had it been otherwise when this Stanley of these remote parts passed this way, for the whole face of the land and sea and the blue of the sky was blotted136 out on this warm and close evening of a hot summer’s day by a white pillowy fog, which, the nearer the shore, grew more dense137.
After long tramping comes a left-hand turn, with a signpost inscribed138 “Mothecombe.” The name suggests some moth-eaten hamlet that[249] would be all the better for plenty of camphor and a good airing; but presently one realises that this is the place called by the coastguards “Muddycombe,” and more usually, in local speech, “Muthycombe.”
It is a solitary road that leads down from this signpost, and the fog discloses only one person on the way: a boy, driving a cow. “Coom oop, Primrose,” says he, and that mild-featured dame139 and he turn into a field, the whiteness engulfs140 them at once, and the wayfarer is alone in the world.
Suddenly the road ends, upon a sandflat. This is really the mouth of the Erme, the estuary where it slides out to sea, but it is infinitely141 mysterious in this smother108 of fog and woolly silence. The stranger, of course, assumes a village from the direction of that curt142, staccato signpost up the road, but devil a house can he find here; only a something looming143 out from under low cliffs, which at first he takes to be an inn, and then a blockhouse fort, resolving itself finally into the inhospitable likeness144 of a ruined limekiln.
The distant rustle145 and whispering of waves on the sea-shore comes fitfully through the fog, which breaks mysteriously and shows the river, with occasional glimpses of the woody banks opposite. For the rest, all is silence, save for an odd continuous buzzing or sizzling undertone, like bacon-frying, piano. It is marvellously like, and only the smell is wanting to complete the illusion, which is produced by the billions of[250] sand-fleas living their little crowded hour in the sands and among the drying seaweed. Every time you kick over a tuft of weed you disturb a little world, and rouse that frying-bacon sound, as though a rasher had been turned in the frying-pan.
Meanwhile, the way is obviously across that river, but how to win to that other side? No one, nor any house, is in sight, but here, by fortunate chance, is a fisherman’s boat, and I up-anchor, cast off, and row myself to the opposite shore, expectant all the while of an angry shout from somewhere. But anything, rather than stay the night over yonder with the sand-fleas. No one, however, witnessed that little act of piracy146, and I walked up out of that steamy laundry-like hollow, where one is reduced to the limpness of washing hung over a clothes-line, and wondered what yon fisherman said and thought when he found himself on the one side of the river and his boat on the other. I hope it is not many miles round to the first bridge, or ford91.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
cove
|
|
| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
conglomerate
|
|
| n.综合商社，多元化集团公司 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
slate
|
|
| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
derives
|
|
| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
philological
|
|
| adj.语言学的，文献学的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
rustics
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
bellowing
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
gulls
|
|
| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
inmates
|
|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
hideously
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
infinities
|
|
| n.无穷大( infinity的名词复数 )；无限远的点；无法计算的量；无限大的量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
19
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
dabbling
|
|
| v.涉猎( dabble的现在分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
hew
|
|
| v.砍；伐；削 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
collaboration
|
|
| n.合作，协作；勾结 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
ebb
|
|
| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
sere
|
|
| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
translucent
|
|
| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
opaque
|
|
| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
impudence
|
|
| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
villas
|
|
| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
malignant
|
|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
wayfarer
|
|
| n.旅人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
unstable
|
|
| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
perpendicular
|
|
| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
limestone
|
|
| n.石灰石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
garrison
|
|
| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
plundered
|
|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
exquisitely
|
|
| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
estuary
|
|
| n.河口，江口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
gliding
|
|
| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
dunes
|
|
| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
imprison
|
|
| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
wrecks
|
|
| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
lure
|
|
| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
savages
|
|
| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
shipwreck
|
|
| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
affronted
|
|
| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
deities
|
|
| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
survivors
|
|
| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
narrates
|
|
| v.故事( narrate的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
slaughtered
|
|
| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
wrecking
|
|
| 破坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
stranded
|
|
| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
cormorants
|
|
| 鸬鹚，贪婪的人( cormorant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
iniquity
|
|
| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
relic
|
|
| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
Ford
|
|
| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
impartially
|
|
| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
reek
|
|
| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
bungalows
|
|
| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
borough
|
|
| n.享有自治权的市镇；(英)自治市镇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
nexus
|
|
| n.联系；关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
dedicated
|
|
| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
syne
|
|
| adv.自彼时至此时，曾经 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
smother
|
|
| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
insignificant
|
|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
chimeras
|
|
| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
fowls
|
|
| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
squatter
|
|
| n.擅自占地者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
panes
|
|
| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
forerunner
|
|
| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
deception
|
|
| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
grotesquely
|
|
| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
militant
|
|
| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
quarries
|
|
| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
pillaged
|
|
| v.抢劫，掠夺( pillage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
icon
|
|
| n.偶像，崇拜的对象，画像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
posterity
|
|
| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
blotted
|
|
| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
engulfs
|
|
| v.吞没，包住( engulf的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
looming
|
|
| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
piracy
|
|
| n.海盗行为，剽窃，著作权侵害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |