Three Men in a Boat — EN


Three Invalids – Suf­fer­ings of George and Har­ris – A vic­tim to one hun­dred and sev­en fatal mal­adies – Use­ful pre­scrip­tionsCure for liv­er com­plaint in chil­dren – We agree that we are over­worked, and need rest – A week on the rolling deep? – George sug­gests the riv­er – Mont­moren­cy lodges an objec­tion – Orig­i­nal motion car­ried by major­i­ty of three to one.

There were four of us – George, and William Samuel Har­ris, and myself, and Mont­moren­cy. We were sit­ting in my room, smok­ing, and talk­ing about how bad we were – bad from a med­ical point of view I mean, of course.

We were all feel­ing seedy, and we were get­ting quite ner­vous about it. Har­ris said he felt such extra­or­di­nary fits of gid­di­ness come over him at times, that he hard­ly knew what he was doing; and then George said that he had fits of gid­di­ness too, and hard­ly knew what he was doing. With me, it was my liv­er that was out of order. I knew it was my liv­er that was out of order, because I had just been read­ing a patent liv­er-pill cir­cu­lar, in which were detailed the var­i­ous symp­toms by which a man could tell when his liv­er was out of order. I had them all.

It is a most extra­or­di­nary thing, but I nev­er read a patent med­i­cine adver­tise­ment with­out being impelled to the con­clu­sion that I am suf­fer­ing from the par­tic­u­lar dis­ease there­in dealt with in its most vir­u­lent form. The diag­no­sis seems in every case to cor­re­spond exact­ly with all the sen­sa­tions that I have ever felt.

I remem­ber going to the British Muse­um one day to read up the treat­ment for some slight ail­ment of which I had a touch – hay fever, I fan­cy it was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthink­ing moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indo­lent­ly study dis­eases, gen­er­al­ly. I for­get which was the first dis­tem­per I plunged into – some fear­ful, dev­as­tat­ing scourge, I know – and, before I had glanced half down the list of “pre­mon­i­to­ry symp­toms,” it was borne in upon me that I had fair­ly got it.

I sat for awhile, frozen with hor­ror; and then, in the list­less­ness of despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever– read the symp­toms – dis­cov­ered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months with­out know­ing it – won­dered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitus’s Dance – found, as I expect­ed, that I had that too, – began to get inter­est­ed in my case, and deter­mined to sift it to the bot­tom, and so start­ed alpha­bet­i­cal­ly – read up ague, and learnt that I was sick­en­ing for it, and that the acute stage would com­mence in about anoth­er fort­night. Bright’s dis­ease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a mod­i­fied form, and, so far as that was con­cerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with severe com­pli­ca­tions; and diph­the­ria I seemed to have been born with. I plod­ded con­sci­en­tious­ly through the twen­ty-six let­ters, and the only mal­a­dy I could con­clude I had not got was housemaid’s knee.

I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed some­how to be a sort of slight. Why hadn’t I got housemaid’s knee? Why this invid­i­ous reser­va­tion? After a while, how­ev­er, less grasp­ing feel­ings pre­vailed. I reflect­ed that I had every oth­er known mal­a­dy in the phar­ma­col­o­gy, and I grew less self­ish, and deter­mined to do with­out housemaid’s knee. Gout, in its most malig­nant stage, it would appear, had seized me with­out my being aware of it; and zymo­sis I had evi­dent­ly been suf­fer­ing with from boy­hood. There were no more dis­eases after zymo­sis, so I con­clud­ed there was noth­ing else the mat­ter with me.

I sat and pon­dered. I thought what an inter­est­ing case I must be from a med­ical point of view, what an acqui­si­tion I should be to a class! Stu­dents would have no need to “walk the hos­pi­tals,” if they had me. I was a hos­pi­tal in myself. All they need do would be to walk round me, and, after that, take their diploma.

Then I won­dered how long I had to live. I tried to exam­ine myself. I felt my pulse. I could not at first feel any pulse at all. Then, all of a sud­den, it seemed to start off. I pulled out my watch and timed it. I made it a hun­dred and forty-sev­en to the minute. I tried to feel my heart. I could not feel my heart. It had stopped beat­ing. I have since been induced to come to the opin­ion that it must have been there all the time, and must have been beat­ing, but I can­not account for it. I pat­ted myself all over my front, from what I call my waist up to my head, and I went a bit round each side, and a lit­tle way up the back. But I could not feel or hear any­thing. I tried to look at my tongue. I stuck it out as far as ever it would go, and I shut one eye, and tried to exam­ine it with the oth­er. I could only see the tip, and the only thing that I could gain from that was to feel more cer­tain than before that I had scar­let fever.

I had walked into that read­ing-room a hap­py, healthy man. I crawled out a decrepit wreck.

I went to my med­ical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse, and looks at my tongue, and talks about the weath­er, all for noth­ing, when I fan­cy I’m ill; so I thought I would do him a good turn by going to him now. “What a doc­tor wants,” I said, “is prac­tice. He shall have me. He will get more prac­tice out of me than out of sev­en­teen hun­dred of your ordi­nary, com­mon­place patients, with only one or two dis­eases each.” So I went straight up and saw him, and he said:

“Well, what’s the mat­ter with you?

I said:

“I will not take up your time, dear boy, with telling you what is the mat­ter with me. Life is brief, and you might pass away before I had fin­ished. But I will tell you what is not the mat­ter with me. I have not got housemaid’s knee. Why I have not got housemaid’s knee, I can­not tell you; but the fact remains that I have not got it. Every­thing else, how­ev­er, I have got.”

And I told him how I came to dis­cov­er it all.

Then he opened me and looked down me, and clutched hold of my wrist, and then he hit me over the chest when I wasn’t expect­ing it – a cow­ard­ly thing to do, I call it – and imme­di­ate­ly after­wards butted me with the side of his head. After that, he sat down and wrote out a pre­scrip­tion, and fold­ed it up and gave it me, and I put it in my pock­et and went out.

I did not open it. I took it to the near­est chemist’s, and hand­ed it in. The man read it, and then hand­ed it back.

He said he didn’t keep it.

I said:

“You are a chemist?”

He said:

“I am a chemist. If I was a co-oper­a­tive stores and fam­i­ly hotel com­bined, I might be able to oblige you. Being only a chemist ham­pers me.”

I read the pre­scrip­tion. It ran:

“1 lb. beef­steak, with

1 pt. bit­ter beer every 6 hours.

1 ten-mile walk every morning.

1 bed at 11 sharp every night.

And don’t stuff up your head with things you don’t understand.”

I fol­lowed the direc­tions, with the hap­py result – speak­ing for myself – that my life was pre­served, and is still going on.

In the present instance, going back to the liv­er-pill cir­cu­lar, I had the symp­toms, beyond all mis­take, the chief among them being “a gen­er­al dis­in­cli­na­tion to work of any kind.”

What I suf­fer in that way no tongue can tell. From my ear­li­est infan­cy I have been a mar­tyr to it. As a boy, the dis­ease hard­ly ever left me for a day. They did not know, then, that it was my liv­er. Med­ical sci­ence was in a far less advanced state than now, and they used to put it down to lazi­ness.

“Why, you skulk­ing lit­tle dev­il, you,” they would say, “get up and do some­thing for your liv­ing, can’t you?” – not know­ing, of course, that I was ill.

And they didn’t give me pills; they gave me clumps on the side of the head. And, strange as it may appear, those clumps on the head often cured me – for the time being. I have known one clump on the head have more effect upon my liv­er, and make me feel more anx­ious to go straight away then and there, and do what was want­ed to be done, with­out fur­ther loss of time, than a whole box of pills does now.

You know, it often is so – those sim­ple, old-fash­ioned reme­dies are some­times more effi­ca­cious than all the dis­pen­sary stuff.

We sat there for half-an-hour, describ­ing to each oth­er our mal­adies. I explained to George and William Har­ris how I felt when I got up in the morn­ing, and William Har­ris told us how he felt when he went to bed; and George stood on the hearth-rug, and gave us a clever and pow­er­ful piece of act­ing, illus­tra­tive of how he felt in the night.

George fan­cies he is ill; but there’s nev­er any­thing real­ly the mat­ter with him, you know.

At this point, Mrs. Pop­pets knocked at the door to know if we were ready for sup­per. We smiled sad­ly at one anoth­er, and said we sup­posed we had bet­ter try to swal­low a bit. Har­ris said a lit­tle some­thing in one’s stom­ach often kept the dis­ease in check; and Mrs. Pop­pets brought the tray in, and we drew up to the table, and toyed with a lit­tle steak and onions, and some rhubarb tart.

I must have been very weak at the time; because I know, after the first half-hour or so, I seemed to take no inter­est what­ev­er in my food – an unusu­al thing for me – and I didn’t want any cheese.

This duty done, we refilled our glass­es, lit our pipes, and resumed the dis­cus­sion upon our state of health. What it was that was actu­al­ly the mat­ter with us, we none of us could be sure of; but the unan­i­mous opin­ion was that it – what­ev­er it was – had been brought on by over­work.

“What we want is rest,” said Harris.

“Rest and a com­plete change,” said George. “The over­strain upon our brains has pro­duced a gen­er­al depres­sion through­out the sys­tem. Change of scene, and absence of the neces­si­ty for thought, will restore the men­tal equi­lib­ri­um.”

George has a cousin, who is usu­al­ly described in the charge-sheet as a med­ical stu­dent, so that he nat­u­ral­ly has a some­what fam­i­ly-physi­cia­nary way of putting things.

I agreed with George, and sug­gest­ed that we should seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sun­ny week among its drowsy lanes– some half-for­got­ten nook, hid­den away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world – some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surg­ing waves of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry would sound far-off and faint.

Har­ris said he thought it would be humpy. He said he knew the sort of place I meant; where every­body went to bed at eight o’clock, and you couldn’t get a ref­er­ee for love or mon­ey, and had to walk ten miles to get your bac­cy.

“No,” said Har­ris, “if you want rest and change, you can’t beat a sea trip.”

I object­ed to the sea trip strong­ly. A sea trip does you good when you are going to have a cou­ple of months of it, but, for a week, it is wicked.

You start on Mon­day with the idea implant­ed in your bosom that you are going to enjoy your­self. You wave an airy adieu to the boys on shore, light your biggest pipe, and swag­ger about the deck as if you were Cap­tain Cook, Sir Fran­cis Drake, and Christo­pher Colum­bus all rolled into one. On Tues­day, you wish you hadn’t come. On Wednes­day, Thurs­day, and Fri­day, you wish you were dead. On Sat­ur­day, you are able to swal­low a lit­tle beef tea, and to sit up on deck, and answer with a wan, sweet smile when kind-heart­ed peo­ple ask you how you feel now. On Sun­day, you begin to walk about again, and take sol­id food. And on Mon­day morn­ing, as, with your bag and umbrel­la in your hand, you stand by the gun­wale, wait­ing to step ashore, you begin to thor­ough­ly like it.

I remem­ber my broth­er-in-law going for a short sea trip once, for the ben­e­fit of his health. He took a return berth from Lon­don to Liv­er­pool; and when he got to Liv­er­pool, the only thing he was anx­ious about was to sell that return ticket.

It was offered round the town at a tremen­dous reduc­tion, so I am told; and was even­tu­al­ly sold for eigh­teen­pence to a bil­ious-look­ing youth who had just been advised by his med­ical men to go to the sea-side, and take exercise.

“Sea-side!” said my broth­er-in-law, press­ing the tick­et affec­tion­ate­ly into his hand; “why, you’ll have enough to last you a life­time; and as for exer­cise! why, you’ll get more exer­cise, sit­ting down on that ship, than you would turn­ing som­er­saults on dry land.”

He him­self – my broth­er-in-law – came back by train. He said the North-West­ern Rail­way was healthy enough for him.

Anoth­er fel­low I knew went for a week’s voy­age round the coast, and, before they start­ed, the stew­ard came to him to ask whether he would pay for each meal as he had it, or arrange before­hand for the whole series.

The stew­ard rec­om­mend­ed the lat­ter course, as it would come so much cheap­er. He said they would do him for the whole week at two pounds five. He said for break­fast there would be fish, fol­lowed by a grill. Lunch was at one, and con­sist­ed of four cours­es. Din­ner at six – soup, fish, entree, joint, poul­try, sal­ad, sweets, cheese, and dessert. And a light meat sup­per at ten.

My friend thought he would close on the two-pound-five job (he is a hearty eater), and did so.

Lunch came just as they were off Sheer­ness. He didn’t feel so hun­gry as he thought he should, and so con­tent­ed him­self with a bit of boiled beef, and some straw­ber­ries and cream. He pon­dered a good deal dur­ing the after­noon, and at one time it seemed to him that he had been eat­ing noth­ing but boiled beef for weeks, and at oth­er times it seemed that he must have been liv­ing on straw­ber­ries and cream for years.

Nei­ther the beef nor the straw­ber­ries and cream seemed hap­py, either – seemed dis­con­tent­ed like.

At six, they came and told him din­ner was ready. The announce­ment aroused no enthu­si­asm with­in him, but he felt that there was some of that two-pound-five to be worked off, and he held on to ropes and things and went down. A pleas­ant odour of onions and hot ham, min­gled with fried fish and greens, greet­ed him at the bot­tom of the lad­der; and then the stew­ard came up with an oily smile, and said:

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Get me out of this,” was the fee­ble reply.

And they ran him up quick, and to prop up, over to lee­ward, and left him.

For the next four days he lived a sim­ple and blame­less life on thin captain’s bis­cuits (I mean that the bis­cuits were thin, not the cap­tain) and soda-water; but, towards Sat­ur­day, he got uppish, and went in for weak tea and dry toast, and on Mon­day he was gorg­ing him­self on chick­en broth. He left the ship on Tues­day, and as it steamed away from the land­ing-stage he gazed after it regret­ful­ly.

“There she goes,” he said, “there she goes, with two pounds’ worth of food on board that belongs to me, and that I haven’t had.”

He said that if they had giv­en him anoth­er day he thought he could have put it straight.

So I set my face against the sea trip. Not, as I explained, upon my own account. I was nev­er queer. But I was afraid for George. George said he should be all right, and would rather like it, but he would advise Har­ris and me not to think of it, as he felt sure we should both be ill. Har­ris said that, to him­self, it was always a mys­tery how peo­ple man­aged to get sick at sea – said he thought peo­ple must do it on pur­pose, from affec­ta­tion – said he had often wished to be, but had nev­er been able.

Then he told us anec­dotes of how he had gone across the Chan­nel when it was so rough that the pas­sen­gers had to be tied into their berths, and he and the cap­tain were the only two liv­ing souls on board who were not ill. Some­times it was he and the sec­ond mate who were not ill; but it was gen­er­al­ly he and one oth­er man. If not he and anoth­er man, then it was he by him­self.

It is a curi­ous fact, but nobody ever is sea-sick – on land. At sea, you come across plen­ty of peo­ple very bad indeed, whole boat-loads of them; but I nev­er met a man yet, on land, who had ever known at all what it was to be sea-sick. Where the thou­sands upon thou­sands of bad sailors that swarm in every ship hide them­selves when they are on land is a mystery.

If most men were like a fel­low I saw on the Yarmouth boat one day, I could account for the seem­ing enig­ma eas­i­ly enough. It was just off Southend Pier, I rec­ol­lect, and he was lean­ing out through one of the port-holes in a very dan­ger­ous posi­tion. I went up to him to try and save him.

“Hi! come fur­ther in,” I said, shak­ing him by the shoul­der. “You’ll be over­board.”

Oh my! I wish I was,” was the only answer I could get; and there I had to leave him.

Three weeks after­wards, I met him in the cof­fee-room of a Bath hotel, talk­ing about his voy­ages, and explain­ing, with enthu­si­asm, how he loved the sea.

Good sailor!” he replied in answer to a mild young man’s envi­ous query; “well, I did feel a lit­tle queer once, I con­fess. It was off Cape Horn. The ves­sel was wrecked the next morning.”

I said:

“Weren’t you a lit­tle shaky by Southend Pier one day, and want­ed to be thrown over­board?”

Southend Pier!” he replied, with a puz­zled expres­sion.

“Yes; going down to Yarmouth, last Fri­day three weeks.”

“Oh, ah – yes,” he answered, bright­en­ing up; “I remem­ber now. I did have a headache that after­noon. It was the pick­les, you know. They were the most dis­grace­ful pick­les I ever tast­ed in a respectable boat. Did you have any?”

For myself, I have dis­cov­ered an excel­lent pre­ven­tive against sea-sick­ness, in bal­anc­ing myself. You stand in the cen­tre of the deck, and, as the ship heaves and pitch­es, you move your body about, so as to keep it always straight. When the front of the ship ris­es, you lean for­ward, till the deck almost touch­es your nose; and when its back end gets up, you lean back­wards. This is all very well for an hour or two; but you can’t bal­ance your­self for a week.

George said:

“Let’s go up the riv­er.”

He said we should have fresh air, exer­cise and qui­et; the con­stant change of scene would occu­py our minds (includ­ing what there was of Harris’s); and the hard work would give us a good appetite, and make us sleep well.

Har­ris said he didn’t think George ought to do any­thing that would have a ten­den­cy to make him sleepi­er than he always was, as it might be dangerous.

He said he didn’t very well under­stand how George was going to sleep any more than he did now, see­ing that there were only twen­ty-four hours in each day, sum­mer and win­ter alike; but thought that if he did sleep any more, he might just as well be dead, and so save his board and lodg­ing.

Har­ris said, how­ev­er, that the riv­er would suit him to a “T.” I don’t know what a “T” is (except a six­pen­ny one, which includes bread-and-but­ter and cake ad lib., and is cheap at the price, if you haven’t had any din­ner). It seems to suit every­body, how­ev­er, which is great­ly to its cred­it.

It suit­ed me to a “T” too, and Har­ris and I both said it was a good idea of George’s; and we said it in a tone that seemed to some­how imply that we were sur­prised that George should have come out so sensible.

The only one who was not struck with the sug­ges­tion was Mont­moren­cy. He nev­er did care for the riv­er, did Montmorency.

“It’s all very well for you fel­lows,” he says; “you like it, but I don’t. There’s noth­ing for me to do. Scenery is not in my line, and I don’t smoke. If I see a rat, you won’t stop; and if I go to sleep, you get fool­ing about with the boat, and slop me over­board. If you ask me, I call the whole thing bal­ly fool­ish­ness.”

We were three to one, how­ev­er, and the motion was car­ried.

suf­fer­ing ˈsʌfərɪŋ n A state of acute pain: pain, hurt

vic­tim ˈvɪk­tɪm n An unfor­tu­nate per­son who suf­fers from some adverse cir­cum­stance: suf­fer­er, injured per­son, wound­ed per­son; tar­get, prey, recipient

fatal ˈfeɪtl adj Bring­ing death or hav­ing momen­tous con­se­quences; of deci­sive impor­tance: dead­ly, lethal, mor­tal, caus­ing death

mal­a­dy ˈmælə­di n A patho­log­i­cal con­di­tion of mind or body: ill­ness, sick­ness, ail­ment, dis­or­der, complaint

pre­scrip­tion prɪsˈkrɪpʃən n (Med­ical) Writ­ten instruc­tions from a physi­cian, den­tist, etc, to a phar­ma­cist stat­ing the form, dosage strength, etc, of a drug to be issued to a spe­cif­ic patient.

cure kjʊə n A med­i­cine or ther­a­py that cures dis­ease or relieve pain: rem­e­dy, med­i­cine, medicament,

liv­er ˈlɪvə n Large red­dish-brown glan­du­lar organ locat­ed in the upper right por­tion of the abdom­i­nal cav­i­ty; secretes bile and func­tions in metab­o­lism of pro­tein and car­bo­hy­drate and fat; syn­the­sizes sub­stances involved in the clot­ting of the blood; syn­the­sizes vit­a­min A; detox­i­fies poi­so­nous sub­stances and breaks down worn-out erythrocytes.

com­plaint kəmˈ­pleɪnt n An often per­sis­tent bod­i­ly dis­or­der or dis­ease; a cause for com­plain­ing: dis­or­der, dis­ease, ill­ness, sick­ness, malady

over­worked ˌəʊvəˈwɜːkt adj To force to work too hard or too long: exhaust­ed, fatigued, worn out, stressed

rolling ˈrəʊlɪŋ v To move or advance with a ris­ing and falling motion: undu­lat­ing, surg­ing, heav­ing, toss­ing, ris­ing and falling

deep diːp n (Lit­er­ary) The sea or ocean: the sea, the ocean

lodge lɒʤ v To make an objec­tion, an appeal etc for­mal­ly or offi­cial­ly: sub­mit, reg­is­ter, enter, place, file

objec­tion əbˈʤɛkʃən n The act of express­ing earnest oppo­si­tion or protest: protest, protes­ta­tion, remon­strance , complain

to car­ry a motion ⇒ To secure the pas­sage of a pro­pos­al.
motion ˈməʊʃən n A for­mal pro­pos­al for action made to a delib­er­a­tive assem­bly for dis­cus­sion and vote: pro­pos­al
car­ry ˈkæri v To secure the pas­sage of (a bill, motion, etc): approve, vote for, accept

major­i­ty məˈʤɒrɪti n The greater num­ber or part; a num­ber more than half of the total: larg­er num­ber, larg­er part, greater num­ber, greater part, more than half

point of view ⇒ A man­ner of view­ing things; an attitude.

seedy ˈsiː­di adj (Infor­mal) Some­what ill or prone to ill­ness: ill, unwell, poor­ly, bad, indis­posed, sick, peaky, liv­er­ish, faint

fit fɪt n A sud­den uncon­trol­lable attack: attack; con­vul­sion, spasm, parox­ysm, seizure

gid­di­ness ˈgɪdɪnɪs n A reel­ing sen­sa­tion; a feel­ing that you are about to fall: dizzi­ness, loss of bal­ance, loss of equi­lib­ri­um, spin­ning of the head

to come over ⇒ To affect one, as of an afflic­tion of some kind.

at times ⇒ Occa­sion­al­ly, sometimes.

with me ⇒ (here) I had a problem.

out of order ⇒ Not func­tion­ing prop­er­ly or at all.

patent med­i­cine ˈpeɪtənt ˈmɛd­sɪn n A med­i­cin sold direct­ly to a con­sumer with­out a require­ment for a pre­scrip­tion from a health­care professional.

liv­er-pill ˈlɪvə pɪl n A med­i­cine for the liv­er, which is large red­dish-brown glan­du­lar organ locat­ed in the abdom­i­nal cav­i­ty; secretes bile and func­tions in metabolism.

cir­cu­lar ˈsɜːkjʊlə n An adver­tise­ment print­ed on a page or in a leaflet intend­ed for wide dis­tri­b­u­tion: leaflet, fly­er, pamphlet

adver­tise­ment ədˈvɜːtɪs­mənt n A pub­lic pro­mo­tion of some prod­uct or ser­vice: com­mer­cial, promotion

impel ɪmˈpɛl v To urge do some­thing, that affects you so strong­ly that you feel forced to do it: com­pel, induce, force, com­pel, con­strain, apply pres­sure, push

con­clu­sion kənˈk­luːʒən n A posi­tion or opin­ion or judg­ment reached after con­sid­er­a­tion: assump­tion, pre­sump­tion, sup­po­si­tion, surmise

suf­fer ˈsʌfə v Feel phys­i­cal pain: ache, hurt

par­tic­u­lar pəˈtɪkjʊlə adj Sep­a­rate and dis­tinct from oth­ers of the same group or cat­e­go­ry: spe­cif­ic, cer­tain, dis­tinct, separate

dis­ease dɪˈz­iːz n An impair­ment of health or a con­di­tion of abnor­mal func­tion­ing: ill­ness, sick­ness, ill health

there­in ðeərˈɪn adv In that place; in that circumstance.

to deal with ⇒ To man­age or han­dle some­one or some­thing usu­al­ly unpleasant.

vir­u­lent ˈvɪrʊlənt adj Infec­tious; hav­ing the abil­i­ty to cause dis­ease: high­ly infec­tious, high­ly infec­tive, high­ly con­ta­gious, rapid­ly spreading

sen­sa­tion sɛnˈseɪʃən n A gen­er­al feel­ing of excite­ment and height­ened inter­est: feel­ing, sense, perception

treat­ment ˈtriːt­mənt n The appli­ca­tion of med­i­cines, surgery, psy­chother­a­py, etc, to a patient or to a dis­ease or symp­tom: ther­a­py, med­ical atten­tion, med­ical care

slight slaɪt adj Lack­ing in strength or sub­stance: minor, incon­se­quen­tial, triv­ial, unimportant

ail­ment ˈeɪlmənt n An often per­sis­tent bod­i­ly dis­or­der or dis­ease; a cause for com­plain­ing: ill­ness, dis­ease, dis­or­der, sick­ness, malady

touch tʌʧ n A slight attack, as of ill­ness or dis­ease: fit, attack, outburst

hay fever heɪ ˈfiːvə n A sea­son­al rhini­tis result­ing from an aller­gic reac­tion to pollen.

fan­cy ˈfæn­si v Imag­ine; con­ceive of; see in one’s mind: think, imag­ine, guess, believe, have an idea, suppose

to get down ⇒ To bring some­one or some­thing down from a high­er place.

to come to ⇒ ­To reach (a goal or objec­tive).

in an unthink­ing moment ⇒ (here) With­out thinking.

idly ˈaɪdli adv In a lazy or apa­thet­ic man­ner: lazi­ly, indo­lent­ly, inactively

indo­lent­ly ˈɪndələntli adj In a dis­in­clined to work or exer­tion. man­ner: lazi­ly, idly, sloth­ful­ly, inac­tive­ly, inertly

dis­tem­per ˌdɪsˈtɛm­pə n (Archa­ic) A dis­ease or dis­or­der: affec­tion, ail, ail­ment, com­plaint, dis­ease, dis­or­der, sickness

plunge plʌnʤ v (Fig­u­ra­tive­ly) Dash vio­lent­ly or with great speed or impetu­os­i­ty: plum­met, drop rapid­ly, go down, sink, slump

dev­as­tat­ing ˈdɛvəsteɪtɪŋ adj Wreak­ing or capa­ble of wreak­ing com­plete destruc­tion: destruc­tive, ruinous, dis­as­trous, catastrophic

scourge skɜːʤ n (Fig­u­ra­tive­ly) Some­thing caus­ing mis­ery or death: afflic­tion, bane, curse, plague, tri­al, pest

pre­mon­i­to­ry symp­toms prɪˈmɒnɪtəri Symp­toms fore­telling a disease.

bear in (up)on one ⇒ To be revealed grad­u­al­ly to one that some­thing is the case; to dawn on one.

I had fair­ly got it ⇒ I def­i­nite­ly have this.

for awhile ⇒ For some vague or inde­ter­mi­nate length of time.

list­less­ness ˈlɪstlɪs­nəs n A feel­ing of lack of inter­est or ener­gy: inac­tiv­ness, sluggishness

despair dɪsˈpeə n A state in which all hope is lost or absent: hope­less­ness, des­per­a­tion, dis­tress; dis­heart­en­ment, discouragemen

to turn over the pages v To flip the pages to read the text on their back side.

typhoid (fever) ˈtaɪfɔɪd n Seri­ous infec­tion marked by intesti­nal inflam­ma­tion and ulcer­a­tion; caused by Sal­mo­nel­la typhosa ingest­ed with food or water.

St. Vitus’s Dance seɪn ˈvaɪtəs dɑːns ⇒ (Pathol­o­gy) Chorea. A dis­or­der of the cen­tral ner­vous sys­tem char­ac­ter­ized by uncon­trol­lable irreg­u­lar brief jerky movements.

to get inter­est­ed in one’s case ⇒ Arouse someone’s inter­est in one’s disease.

to sift some­thing to the bot­tom ⇒ Unrav­el completely.

ague ˈeɪgjuː n A fit of shiv­er­ing or shak­ing: malar­ia, fever

sick­en for some­thing ˈsɪkn ⇒ Become ill with. Fall ill with. Be tak­en ill with. Show symp­toms of

acute əˈkjuːt adj (Med­i­cine) (of a dis­ease) Aris­ing sud­den­ly and man­i­fest­ing intense sever­i­ty: severe, crit­i­cal, ter­ri­ble, awful, grave

com­mence kəˈmɛns v Take the first step or steps in car­ry­ing out an action: begin, start, start off

fort­night ˈfɔːt­naɪt n A peri­od of four­teen con­sec­u­tive days: two weeks

Bright’s dis­ease ˈbraɪts dɪˈz­iːz An inflam­ma­tion of the kid­ney: nephri­tis

cholera ˈkɒlərə n (Med­ical) An acute intesti­nal infec­tion caused by inges­tion of con­t­a­m­i­nat­ed water or food..

com­pli­ca­tion ˌkɒm­plɪˈkeɪʃən n Any dis­ease or dis­or­der that occurs dur­ing the course of or because of anoth­er dis­ease: dis­ease

diph­the­ria dɪfˈθɪərɪə n Acute con­ta­gious infec­tion caused by the bac­teri­um Corynebac­teri­um diph­the­ri­ae; marked by the for­ma­tion of a false mem­brane in the throat and oth­er air pas­sages caus­ing dif­fi­cul­ty in breath­ing: con­ta­gious dis­ease contagion

plod plɒd v Walk heav­i­ly and firm­ly, as when weary, or through mud: wade, plough, toil, pro­ceed laboriously

con­sci­en­tious­ly ˌkɒnʃɪˈɛnʃəs­li adj With extreme con­sci­en­tious­ness: dili­gent­ly, punc­til­ious­ly, painstak­ing­ly, assid­u­ous­ly, ded­i­cat­ed­ly, carefully

con­clude kənˈk­luːd v Decide by rea­son­ing; draw or come to a con­clu­sion: deduce, gath­er, judge, decide

housemaid’s knee ˈhaʊs­meɪdz niː n Inflam­ma­tion of the bur­sa over the front of the kneecap: prepatel­lar bursitis

to feel hurt about some­thing ⇒ To feel offend­ed about something.

a sort of slight ­⇒ To some extent neglect or insult; slight slaɪt n A delib­er­ate dis­cour­te­ous act usu­al­ly as an expres­sion of anger or disapproval.

invid­i­ous ɪnˈvɪdɪəs adj Con­tain­ing or imply­ing a slight or show­ing prej­u­dice: offen­sive; unfair, unjust, prej­u­di­cial, discriminatory

reser­va­tion ˌrɛzəˈveɪʃən n An unstat­ed doubt that pre­vents you from accept­ing some­thing whole­heart­ed­ly: scep­ti­cism, unease, hes­i­ta­tion, reluctance

grasp­ing ˈgrɑːspɪŋ adj Immod­er­ate­ly desirous of acquir­ing e.g. wealth: greedy, avari­cious, acquis­i­tive, grabbing

pre­vail prɪˈveɪl v Be larg­er in num­ber, quan­ti­ty, pow­er, sta­tus or impor­tance: over­come, come out ahead, gain the vic­to­ry, come out on top, suc­ceed, conquer

reflect rɪˈflɛkt v Think deeply on a sub­ject: think about, give thought to, consider

grew gruː pt of grow grəʊ v Pass into a con­di­tion grad­u­al­ly, take on a spe­cif­ic prop­er­ty or attribute: become, turn, start to feel

self­ish ˈsɛlfɪʃ adj Con­cerned chiefly or only with your­self and your advan­tage to the exclu­sion of oth­ers: ego­cen­tric, ego­tis­ti­cal, self-cen­tred, self-regard­ing, self-obsessed

to be deter­mined to do ⇒ To be deter­mined to get along.

gout gaʊt n A dis­tur­bance of uric-acid metab­o­lism, char­ac­ter­ized by painful inflam­ma­tion of the joints, espe­cial­ly of the feet and hands, with arthrit­ic attacks.

malig­nant məˈlɪgnənt n Dan­ger­ous to health; char­ac­ter­ized by pro­gres­sive and uncon­trolled growth espe­cial­ly of a tumor: vir­u­lent, infec­tious, inva­sive, uncon­trol­lable, dan­ger­ous, harmful

to be aware of some­thing ⇒ To know a fact.

zymo­sis zaɪˈməʊsɪs n (Med­i­cine) The devel­op­ment and spread of an infec­tious dis­ease espe­cial­ly one caused by a fungus.

boy­hood ˈbɔɪhʊd n The child­hood of a boy.

there is noth­ing else the mat­ter with me ⇒ I have no oth­er desease.

pon­der ˈpɒndə v Reflect deeply on a sub­ject: think about, con­sid­er, review, reflect on

acqui­si­tion ˌækwɪˈzɪʃ(ə)n n Some­thing acquired: acces­sion, addi­tion, asset

to walk the hos­pi­tals ⇒ (His­tor­i­cal) To study under clin­i­cal instruc­tion at a gen­er­al hospital. 

exam­ine ɪgˈzæmɪn v (Med­i­cine) To inves­ti­gate the state of health of a patient: inspect, sur­vey, look into, study, inves­ti­gate, scan

all of a sud­den ⇒ Suddenly.

start off ⇒ To begin trav­el­ing; to start a journey.

pull out ⇒ To with­draw some­thing from some­one or something.

time taɪm v Mea­sure, put a stop­watch on, meter, count

make meɪk v (here) Mea­sure, meter, count.

to the minute ⇒ Per minute.

induce ɪnˈd­juːs v (with infini­tive) Cause to do; cause to act in a spec­i­fied man­ner: per­suade, con­vince, inspire, influ­ence, press, urge

to come to the opin­ion ⇒ Draw a con­clu­sion, arrive at a con­clu­sionbe of the opin­ion that, take the view that.

to account for ⇒ To deter­mine the loca­tion or state of a per­son or thing.

pat pæt v Hit or slap light­ly: tap, clap, touch, stroke, caress

call kɔːl v Assign a spec­i­fied usu­al­ly prop­er name to: describe as, regard as, look on as, con­sid­er to be

waist weɪst n The nar­row­ing of the body between the ribs and hips: mid­dle, midriff, mid­sec­tion, waistline

to go a bit round each side ⇒ To feel part of both sides.

back bæk n Spine.

tongue tʌŋ n A mov­able organ in the mouth, func­tion­ing in tast­ing, eat­ing, and, in humans, speaking.

to stick out one’s tongue ⇒ To pro­trude one’s tongue out of one’s mouth. Often done in a child­ish­ly mock­ing, con­temp­tu­ous, or defi­ant manner.

tip tɪp n The end of a point­ed or pro­ject­ing object: peak, point, top

gain geɪn v To acquire some­thing desir­able: obtain, get, acquire

scar­let fever ˈskɑːlɪt ˈfiːvə n A severe con­ta­gious bac­te­r­i­al dis­ease that is char­ac­ter­ized by a high fever and a scar­let rash on the skin.

to crawl out ⇒ To exit a place or thing on one’s hands and knees.

decrepit dɪˈkrɛpɪt adj Lack­ing bod­i­ly or mus­cu­lar strength or vital­i­ty: fee­ble, infirm, weak

wreck rɛk n A per­son of ruined health; some­one in bad shape phys­i­cal­ly or men­tal­ly: derelict, ruins

med­ical man ⇒ Physi­cian, doctor.

chum ʧʌm n A close friend who accom­pa­nies his bud­dies in their activ­i­ties: friend, com­pan­ion, intimate

all for noth­ing ⇒In vain, to no purpose/avail/end, for noth­ing; fruitlessly.

to do some­body a good turn ⇒ To do an action that is ben­e­fi­cial to anoth­er per­son in some way.

com­mon­place ˈkɒmən­pleɪs adj Com­plete­ly ordi­nary and unre­mark­able: ordi­nary, main­stream, unre­mark­able, unexceptional

straight streɪt adv With­out detour or delay: direct­ly, right, squarely

what is the mat­ter with…? ⇒ What is wrong or the prob­lem with one?

to take up one’s time ⇒ To con­sume or require some amount of one’s time.

pass away ⇒ To die.

ti come to ⇒ To reach a con­clu­sion of some kind, such as a decision.

to clutch hold of ⇒ Hold tight.

wrist rɪst n The joint between the human hand and forearm.

chest ʧɛst n The part of the human tor­so between the neck and the diaphragm: breast

cow­ard­ly ˈkaʊədli adj Lack­ing courage; ignobly timid and faint-heart­ed: faint-heart­ed, chick­en-heart­ed, spiritless

butt bʌt v To hit or push some­thing force­ful­ly with the head: ram, head­butt, bunt, bump, push

write out v To fill an amount of space with words or information.

fold up ⇒ Bend or lay so that one part cov­ers the other.

go out ⇒To leave one’s home.

take teɪk v Car­ry out: bring, car­ry, bear, trans­port, convey

chemist’s (shop) ˈkɛmɪsts n A store that sells med­i­cines and var­i­ous oth­er prod­ucts (such as news­pa­pers, can­dy, soap, etc: phar­ma­cy

hand in ⇒ To sub­mit or give some­thing to someone.

hand back ⇒ To return some­thing to some­one by pass­ing or hand­ing it to them.

keep kiːp v Sell or suply (for goods): store, stock, keep pos­ses­sion of

chemist ˈkɛmɪst n A health pro­fes­sion­al trained in the art of prepar­ing and dis­pens­ing drugs: phar­ma­cist

co-oper­a­tive kəʊˈɒpərətɪv n A joint­ly owned com­mer­cial enter­prise (usu­al­ly orga­nized by farm­ers or con­sumers) that pro­duces and dis­trib­utes goods and ser­vices and is run for the ben­e­fit of its own­ers: ccom­mer­cial enterprise

oblige əˈblaɪʤ v To pro­vide a ser­vice or favour for some­one: do some­one a favour, do some­one a kind­ness, do some­one a service

ham­per ˈhæm­pə v Put at a dis­ad­van­tage: hin­der, obstruct, dis­ad­van­tage, hand­i­cap, dis­fa­vor, disfavour

run rʌn pt ran ræn pp run rʌn v (third per­son only) Read (for let­ter, law etc): read

lb. ˈpaʊnd ⇒Abbre­vi­a­tion of pound (from Latin libra) = 0,453 kg.

beef­steak ˈbiːfˈsteɪk n A slice of meat from an adult domes­tic bovinem, usu­al­ly cooked by broiling.

pt. paɪnt n Pint. A British impe­r­i­al capac­i­ty mea­sure (liq­uid or dry) equal to 4 gills or 0.56826 litter.

sharp ʃɑːp adv At the prop­er time: punc­tu­al­ly, pre­cise­ly, exactly

to stuff up one’s head with some­thing ⇒ To cause one to believe, think about, or be pre­oc­cu­pied with some idea or notion something.

direc­tion dɪˈrɛkʃən n (usu­al­ly plur­al) A mes­sage describ­ing how some­thing is to be done: instruc­tion, com­mand, order

pre­serve prɪˈzɜːv v To pro­tect from loss or destruc­tion: save, con­serve, protect

still going on ⇒ Still con­tin­ue or last.

in the present instance ⇒ In this case.

go back ⇒ Return.

beyond all mis­take ⇒ Without/beyond doubt, undoubtedly.

chief ʧiːf adj Most impor­tant ele­ment: main, cen­tral, essen­tial, major, principal

dis­in­cli­na­tion ˌdɪsɪn­klɪˈneɪʃən n A cer­tain degree of unwill­ing­ness: reluc­tance, unwill­ing­ness, lack of enthusiasm

in that way ⇒ By that means, thus; by so doing.

no tongue can tell ⇒ It can­not be explainded.

infan­cy ˈɪn­fən­si n ранно детство: baby­hood, ear­ly childhood

mar­tyr ˈmɑːtə n One who suf­fers for the sake of prin­ci­ple: scape­goat

then ðɛn adv At that time, at that point, in those days.

to put some­thing down to some­thing else ⇒ To regard a sit­u­a­tion, action, or out­come as being the result of some spe­cif­ic aspect, con­di­tion, or event.

lazi­ness ˈleɪzɪnɪs n Inac­tiv­i­ty result­ing from a dis­like of work: idle­ness, indo­lence, sloth­ful­ness, sloth, inac­tiv­i­ty, sluggishness

skulk skʌlk v Lie in wait, lie in ambush, behave in a sneaky and secre­tive man­ner: lurk, loi­ter, hide, con­ceal oneself

lit­tle dev­il ⇒ (Infor­mal) Scoundrel, good-for-noth­ing, scamp, rap­scal­lion, rot­ter, villain

get up ⇒ To stand from a seat­ed or reclin­ing position..

liv­ing ˈlɪvɪŋ n The finan­cial means where­by one lives: nour­ish­ment, dai­ly bread; source of income, means of support

clump klʌmp n (slang) A blow: thump, thud, bang

strange as it may appear ⇒ Strange as it may seem; It may seem strange, but it is true.

cure kjʊə v To restore to health or good con­di­tion: heal, restore to health, make well, make better

for the time being ⇒ At the present moment; for now.

anx­ious ˈæŋkʃəs adj Eager­ly desirous (to): eager, keen, intent, yearn­ing, impa­tient, ardent, avid, expec­tant, desirous,

straight away ⇒ At once; imme­di­ate­ly; with­out delay or hesitation.

then and there ⇒ At that exact place and moment in time.

it often is so ⇒ It hap­pens often.

rem­e­dy ˈrɛmɪ­di n A med­i­cine or ther­a­py that cures dis­ease or relieve pain: med­i­cine, med­ica­tion, medica­ment, drug; treat­ment, cure

effi­ca­cious ˌɛfɪˈkeɪʃəs adj Marked by qual­i­ties giv­ing the pow­er to pro­duce an intend­ed effect: effec­tive, suc­cess­ful, effec­tu­al, pro­duc­tive, constructive

dis­pen­sary dɪsˈpɛn­səri n Clin­ic where med­i­cine and med­ical sup­plies are dispensed.

hearth-rug ˈhɑːθrʌg n A rug spread out in front of a fireplace.

gave us a piece of act­ing ⇒ Played a play.

illus­tra­tive ˈɪləstreɪtɪv adj Act­ing or serv­ing as an illus­tra­tion (of): exem­pli­fy­ing

at this point ⇒ At the present moment; right now; currently.

sup­per ˈsʌpə n A light evening meal; served in ear­ly evening if din­ner is at mid­day or served late in the evening at bed­time: din­ner, evening meal, main meal

swal­low ˈswɒləʊ v To pass food, drink, etc through the mouth to the stom­ach by means of a vol­un­tary mus­cu­lar action: eat, gulp down, con­sume, devour,

to keep some­thing in check ⇒ To keep some­thing under con­trol; to restrain something.

to draw up to the table ⇒ To approach the table.

toy tɔɪ v Engage in an activ­i­ty as if it were a game rather than take it seri­ous­ly: play, enter­tain

rhubarb ˈruːbɑːb n Long pink­ish sour leaf­stalks usu­al­ly eat­en cooked and sweet­ened: pieplant

tart tɑːt n A small open pie with a fruit fill­ing: pas­try, quiche, strudel; pie, pat­ty, pasty

at the time ⇒ At the par­tic­u­lar peri­od or moment in the past that is being discussed..

to take no inter­est in some­one or some­thing ⇒ Not to be or become con­cerned with, curi­ous about, or inter­est­ed in some­one or something

this duty done ⇒ Hav­ing con­clud­ed this obligation.

pipe paɪp n A tube with a small bowl at one end; used for smok­ing tobacco. 

resume rɪˈzjuːm v Take up or begin anew: restart, recom­mence, con­tin­ue , begin again, start again

unan­i­mous ju(ː)ˈnænɪməs adj In com­plete agree­ment: unit­ed, in com­plete agree­ment, in com­plete accord, of one mind

over­work ˌəʊvəˈwɜːk v To work too hard, too much, or too long beyond one’s strength or capac­i­ty: exhaust, fatigue, wear out, stress

over­strain ˈəʊvəstreɪn n To put forth too much phys­i­cal effort: exhaus­tion, weariness

equi­lib­ri­um ˌiːk­wɪˈlɪbrɪəm n Men­tal or emo­tion­al bal­ance: bal­ance, sym­me­try, equipoise

cousin ˈkʌzn n The child of your aunt or uncle..

charge-sheet ˈʧɑːʤˌʃiːt n спи­сък на арестуваните лица и обвиненията сре­щу тях.

fam­i­ly-physi­cia­nary fɪˈzɪʃənəri adj typ­i­cal for doc­tor spe­cial­iz­ing in fam­i­ly practice.

way of putting things ⇒ Way of expression.

to seek out ⇒ To look for a spe­cif­ic per­son or thing.

retired rɪˈ­taɪəd adj With­drawn; seclud­ed: hid­den uncom­mu­nica­tive, secluded

spot spɒt n A point locat­ed with respect to sur­face fea­tures of some region: place, loca­tion, site

drowsy ˈdraʊzi adj Half asleep: sleepy, half asleep, dozy

lane leɪn n A nar­row way or road: byroad, byway, alley, alley­way, road­way, passage

nook nʊk n A shel­tered and seclud­ed place: hide­away, hide­out, retreat, refuge, shelter

fairy ˈfeəri n An imag­i­nary being in human form, depict­ed as clever, mis­chie­vous, and pos­sess­ing mag­i­cal pow­ers: elf

out of reach ⇒ Inac­ces­si­bly locat­ed or situated.

quaint ˈkweɪnt adj Strange in an inter­est­ing or pleas­ing way: bizarre, curi­ous, pecu­liar, weird, unusu­al, curi­ous, eccen­tric, dif­fer­ent, out of the ordi­nary, quirky, bizarre, whimsical

perch pɜːʧ v Sit, as on a branch: alight, set­tle, land, come to rest; roost, sit

eyrie ˈɪəri n The lofty nest of a bird of prey such as a hawk or eagle.

cliff klɪf n A high, steep, or over­hang­ing face of rock: precipice, rock face, crag, bluff, ridge

whence wɛns cj Out of which place; from or out of which.

surge sɜːʤ v Rise rapid­ly: rise, swell, heave, bil­low, roll, eddy, swirl

humpy ˈhʌmpi adj (Infor­mal) Par­tial­ly or total­ly dark, espe­cial­ly dis­mal and drea­ry: gloomy

the sort of some­thing ⇒ Almost some­thing; some­what; somehow.

not for love or mon­ey ⇒ Not under any cir­cum­stances or con­di­tions; no mat­ter what happens.

bac­cy ˈbæ­ki n (Infor­mal) Tobac­co.

you can’t beat some­thing ⇒ You can­not improve upon or sur­pass some­thing, as in excel­lence, qual­i­ty, val­ue, etc.

I strong­ly object əbˈʤɛkt I protest vigorously.

wicked ˈwɪkɪd adj Intense­ly or extreme­ly bad or unpleas­ant in degree or qual­i­ty: evil, wrong, bad, mean, vile

implant­ed ɪmˈ­plɑːn­tɪd adj Deeply root­ed; firm­ly fixed or held: deep-seat­ed, estab­lished, con­sti­tut­ed, plant­ed, deep-rooted

bosom ˈbʊzəm n A person’s breast or chest.

airy əˈd­juː adj Light-heart­ed and hap­py: unwor­ried, untrou­bled, heed­less, uncon­sid­ered, uncar­ing, indif­fer­ent, unthinking

adieu əˈd­juː int Said to wish a final farewell: good­bye, farewell,au revoir

swag­ger ˈswægə v To walk with a lofty proud gait, often in an attempt to impress oth­ers: walk con­fi­dent­ly, walk arrogantly

deck dɛk n (Nau­ti­cal) Any of var­i­ous plat­forms built into a vessel.

Cap­tain Cook ˈkæp­tɪn kʊk A British explor­er, nav­i­ga­tor, car­tog­ra­ph­er, and cap­tain in the British Roy­al Navy, famous for his three voy­ages between 1768 and 1779 in the Pacif­ic Ocean and to Aus­tralia in particular.

Sir Fran­cis Drake ˈfrɑːn(t)sɪs dreɪk An Eng­lish explor­er, sea cap­tain, pri­va­teer, slave trad­er, naval offi­cer, and politi­cian. Drake is best known for his cir­cum­nav­i­ga­tion of the world in a sin­gle expe­di­tion, from 1577 to 1580.

Christo­pher Colum­bus ˈkrɪstəfə kəˈlʌm­bəs An Ital­ian explor­er and nav­i­ga­tor who com­plet­ed four voy­ages across the Atlantic Ocean, open­ing the way for the wide­spread Euro­pean explo­ration and col­o­niza­tion of the Americas.

all rolled into one ⇒ Com­bined in one per­son or thing.

beef tea ⇒ An extract of beef.

wan wɒn adj Lack­ing vital­i­ty as from weari­ness or ill­ness or unhap­pi­ness: melan­cholic, tired-look­ing, drained, deathlike

kind-heart­ed ˈkaɪndˈhɑːtɪd adj Hav­ing or pro­ceed­ing from an innate­ly kind dis­po­si­tion: car­ing, kind­ly, good-natured, mild, ten­der, gen­tle, compassionate

gun­wale ˈgʌnl n (Nau­ti­cal) The upper edge of the side of a vessel.

ashore əˈʃɔː adv To or onto the shore: on the shore, on the beach, on land, on dry land

broth­er-in-law ˈbrʌðərɪn­lɔː n pl broth­ers-in-law A broth­er by marriage.

for the ben­e­fit of one’s health ⇒ Large­ly or sole­ly to help one’s health.

berth bɜːθ n A bed on a ship or train: bunk, bed

Liv­er­pool ˈlɪvəˌpuːl A city and met­ro­pol­i­tan bor­ough in Mersey­side, North­east Eng­land, on the east­ern side of the Mersey Estuary.

tremen­dous trɪˈmɛndəs adj Extra­or­di­nar­i­ly large in size or extent: huge, enor­mous, immense, colos­sal, massive

reduc­tion rɪˈdʌkʃən n The act of decreas­ing or reduc­ing some­thing (here of the price): dis­count, mark­down, deduc­tion, cut, price cut,

even­tu­al­ly ɪˈvɛnʧəli adv After an unspec­i­fied peri­od of time or an espe­cial­ly long delay: in the end, after some time, after a peri­od of time, after a bit, final­ly, at last

eigh­teen­pence ˌeɪˈtiːnˈpɛns n The mon­e­tary amount of eigh­teen pence. 

bil­ious ˈbɪliəs adj Irri­ta­ble as if suf­fer­ing from indi­ges­tion: liv­er­ish, nau­seous, sick

affec­tion­ate­ly əˈfɛkʃnɪtli adv In a lov­ing man­ner: lov­ing­ly, car­ing­ly, ten­der­ly, kindly

to turn som­er­sault ⇒ To an acro­bat­ic move­ment, either for­ward or back­ward, in which the body rolls end over end, mak­ing a com­plete revolution.

voy­age ˈvɔɪɪʤ n A jour­ney, trav­el, or pas­sage, espe­cial­ly one to a dis­tant land or by sea or air: jour­ney, trip, expe­di­tion, excur­sion, tour, hike

coast kəʊst n The shore of a sea or ocean: seaboard, coastal region, coast­line, seashore

stew­ard stjʊəd n The ship’s offi­cer who is in charge of pro­vi­sions and din­ing arrange­ments: cab­in atten­dant, mem­ber of the cab­in staff

before­hand bɪˈfɔːhænd adv Being ahead of time or need: in advance, ahead of time

the lat­ter ˌðəˈlætə adj Being the sec­ond of two per­sons or things men­tioned: last-men­tioned, sec­ond-men­tioned, sec­ond of the two, sec­ond, last

course kɔːs n A part of a meal served at one time: dish, menu item, meal, repast

to come so much cheap­er ⇒ To becomes much more cheaper.

do for ⇒ Bring about the death, defeat, or ruin of.

entree ˈɒn­treɪ n (French) The prin­ci­pal dish of a meal: main course, main dish, main meal

joint ʤɔɪnt n Large cut of meat for roast­ing: meat

poul­try ˈpəʊl­tri n Flesh of chick­ens or turkeys or ducks or geese raised for food: domes­tic fowl, fowl, chick­en, poulet

to close on ⇒ To com­plete the process of buy­ing or selling.

a hearty eater ⇒ Enjoy­ing or requir­ing abun­dant food.

Sheer­ness ⇒ A town beside the mouth of the Riv­er Med­way on the north-west cor­ner of the Isle of Shep­pey in north Kent, England.

to con­tent one­self with some­thing ⇒ To be hap­py or sat­is­fied with some­thing, often some­thing that is lack­ing or dis­ap­point­ing in some way.

straw­ber­ry ˈstrɔːbəri n Sweet low-grow­ing fleshy red fruit.

a good deal ⇒A large but indef­i­nite quantity.

dis­con­tent­ed ˌdɪskənˈtɛn­tɪd adj Show­ing or expe­ri­enc­ing dis­sat­is­fac­tion or rest­less long­ing: dis­sat­is­fied, dis­grun­tled, fed up, disaffected

arouse əˈraʊz v Call forth (emo­tions, feel­ings, and respons­es): cause, induce, prompt, set off, trig­ger, stir up,

to work off ⇒ To remove grad­u­al­ly, as by labour, or a grad­ual process.

to hold on ⇒ To main­tain a firm grasp.

odour ˈəʊdə n The prop­er­ty of a sub­stance that gives it a char­ac­ter­is­tic scent or smell: smell, stench, stink mell, scent, aro­ma, per­fume, fragrance

min­gle ˈmɪŋgl v To mix togeth­er but still stay rec­og­niz­able: mix, com­mix, uni­fy, amal­ga­mate blend, inter­min­gle, com­min­gle, inter­mix, inter­weave, inter­lace, com­bine, merge, fuse, unite

fried fraɪd adj Cooked by fry­ing in fat.

lad­der ˈlædə n Steps con­sist­ing of two par­al­lel mem­bers con­nect­ed by rungs; for climb­ing up or down.

come up ⇒ To draw near; approach.

oily ˈɔɪli adj Unpleas­ant­ly and exces­sive­ly suave or ingra­ti­at­ing in man­ner or speech: ful­some, but­tery, insin­cere, oleagi­nous, soapy

fee­ble ˈfiːbl adj Phys­i­cal­ly weak, as from age or sick­ness: frail, faint, dim, weak, pale, sub­dued, mut­ed, indis­tinct, unclear, vague

to prop up ⇒ Sup­port by plac­ing against some­thing sol­id or rigid.

lee­ward ˈliːwəd n (Nau­ti­cal) The direc­tion in which the wind is blowing.

blame­less ˈbleɪm­lɪs adj Free of guilt; not sub­ject to blame: inno­cent, guilt­less, irre­proach­able, fault­less, , impec­ca­ble, sin­less, unblemished

bis­cuit ˈbɪskɪt n Any of var­i­ous small flat sweet cakes: crack­er, wafer, cookie

soda-water ˈsəʊdəˌwɔːtə n A sweet drink con­tain­ing car­bon­at­ed water and fla­vor­ing: soda pop, fizzy drink

uppish ˈʌpɪʃ adj Over­ly con­ceit­ed or arro­gant: arro­gant, bump­tious, bold, boastful

to go in for ⇒ Have a par­tic­u­lar inter­est in or lik­ing for.

toast təʊst n Slices of bread that have been toasted.

gorge gɔːʤ v Overeat or eat immod­est­ly: stuff, cram, fill

broth brɒθ n A thin soup of meat or fish or veg­etable stock: soup, bouil­lon

to steam away ⇒ To depart under the pow­er of a steam engine; steam stiːm v Trav­el by means of steam power.

land­ing-stage ˈlændɪŋsteɪʤ n A plat­form, typ­i­cal­ly a float­ing one, on to which pas­sen­gers from a boat dis­em­bark or car­go is unloaded: quay, pier

gaze geɪz v Look at with fixed eyes: stare, look fixed­ly, look vacantly

regret­ful­ly rɪˈ­grɛt­fʊli adv with a feel­ing of sor­row, dis­ap­point­ment, dis­tress, or remorse about some­thing that one wish­es could be dif­fer­ent: remorse­ful­ly, repentantly

she ⇒ Used in place of it to refer ships.

on board ⇒ Rid­ing on or in a ship, train, air­plane, etc.

to put some­thing straight ⇒ Make some­thing neat and tidy; orga­nize or set­tle some­thing properly.

to set one’s face against some­thing ⇒ To be strong­ly opposed to or dis­ap­prov­ing of something.

upon one’s own account ⇒For oneself.

queer kwɪə adj Feel­ing slight­ly ill, as in being dizzy or queasy: ill, unwell, poor­ly, bad, out of sorts, indisposed

on pur­pose ⇒ With delib­er­ate inten­tion; not accidentally.

affec­ta­tion æfɛkˈteɪʃ(ə)n n A delib­er­ate pre­tence or exag­ger­at­ed dis­play: pre­ten­sion, pre­ten­tious­ness, , arti­fi­cial­i­ty, insin­cer­i­ty, pos­tur­ing, posing

the Chan­nel ˌðəˈʧænl The Eng­lish Chan­nel, an arm of the Atlantic Ocean that sep­a­rates South­ern Eng­land from north­ern France and links to the south­ern part of the North Sea by the Strait of Dover at its north­east­ern end.

rough rʌf adj Vio­lent­ly agi­tat­ed and tur­bu­lent: tur­bu­lent, stormy, tem­pes­tu­ous, vio­lent, heav­ing, rag­ing, agitated

tie taɪ v Fas­ten or secure with a rope, string, or cord: bind, tie up, teth­er, hitch, strap

sec­ond mate ˈsɛkəndˌmeɪt (Nau­ti­cal) The sec­ond mate is the third in com­mand and a watch­keep­ing offi­cer, cus­tom­ar­i­ly the ship’s navigator.

by one­self ⇒ With no one else present; alone.

curi­ous ˈkjʊərɪəs adj Beyond or devi­at­ing from the usu­al or expect­ed: strange, odd, pecu­liar, fun­ny, unusu­al, bizarre, weird, eccen­tric, queer

sea-sick ˈsiːˌsɪk adj Expe­ri­enc­ing motion sickness..

come across ⇒ To find or see some­one or some­thing incidentally.

boat-load of peo­ple ⇒ The peo­ple that a boat carries.

thou­sands upon thou­sands ⇒ Many thou­sands (on/upon indi­cates repeat­ing).

swarm swɔːm v Move in large num­bers: flock, crowd, throng, pack

Yarmouth ˈjɑːməθ A sea­side resort town in Nor­folk, Eng­land, strad­dling the Riv­er Yare, some 20 miles (30 km) east of Norwich.

to account for ⇒ To explain, to give the rea­sons for something.

seem­ing ˈsiːmɪŋ adj Appear­ing as such but not nec­es­sar­i­ly so: pre­tend­ed, feigned

enig­ma ɪˈnɪg­mə n Some­thing that baf­fles under­stand­ing and can­not be explained: mys­tery, puz­zle, riddle

Southend Pier ˈsaʊθɛndˈpɪə Southend Pier is a major land­mark in Southend-on-Sea. Extend­ing 1.33 miles into the Thames Estu­ary, it is the longest plea­sure pier in the world; Pier pɪə A plat­form built out from the shore into the water and sup­port­ed by piles; pro­vides access to ships and boats.

rec­ol­lect ˌriːkəˈlɛkt v To renew an image or thought in the mind: recall, remem­ber, bethink, call to mind, think

lean out of some­thing ⇒ To bend, tilt, or sus­pend one­self out of something..

port-hole ˈpɔːtˌhəʊl n (Nau­ti­cal) A small, usu­al­ly cir­cu­lar win­dow in a ship’s side.

come fur­ther in ⇒ Go inside.

over­board ˈəʊvəbɔːd adv (Nau­ti­cal) From on board a ves­sel into the water.

Oh my! ˈəʊˌ­maɪ int An inter­jec­tion express­ing sur­prise, increduli­ty, or pleasure.

cof­fee room ˈkɒ­fiˌruːm n A pub­lic room in an inn, hotel, or club-house, where guests are sup­plied with cof­fee and oth­er refresh­ments; now, usu­al­ly, the pub­lic dining-room.

Bath bɑːθ Bath is the largest city in the coun­ty of Som­er­set, Eng­land, known for and named after its Roman-built baths.

a bad/good sailor ⇒ Used for say­ing whether some­one feels sick on a boat or not. 

mild maɪld adj Gen­tle or kind in dis­po­si­tion, man­ners, or behav­ior: gen­tle, ten­der, soft, sen­si­tive, placid, meek, calm, tranqui

envi­ous ˈɛn­vɪəs adj Show­ing extreme cupid­i­ty; painful­ly desirous of another’s advan­tages: jeal­ous, cov­etous, desirous

query ˈkwɪəri n A ques­tion, espe­cial­ly one express­ing doubt, uncer­tain­ty, or an objec­tion: ques­tion, inquiry, inter­ro­ga­tion, examination

did dɪd (the aux­il­iary verb is used to ampli­fy the action) Actu­al­ly, really.

con­fess kənˈfɛs v Admit to a wrong­do­ing: admit, acknowl­edge, reveal, make known, disclose

Cape Horn ˈkeɪpˈhɔːn The south­ern­most head­land of the Tier­ra del Fuego arch­i­pel­ago of south­ern Chile, and is locat­ed on the small Hornos Island, the most souther­ly point of South America.

ves­sel ˈvɛsl n A craft designed for water trans­porta­tion: boat, sail­ing boat, ship, yacht, craft, watercraft

wreck rɛk v (Nau­ti­cal) To under­go the an acci­dent that destroys a ship at sea: ship­wreck, sink, break up

puz­zled ˈpʌ­zld adj Filled with bewil­der­ment: per­plex, con­fuse, bewil­der, baf­fle, mys­ti­fy, confound

expres­sion ɪksˈprɛʃən n The feel­ings expressed on a person’s face: look, appear­ance, air, manner

to bright­en up ⇒ To make some­one hap­pi­er or more cheerful.

pick­les ˈpɪk­lz n (Used in plur­al) Veg­eta­bles, espe­cial­ly cucum­bers, pre­served in brine or vinegar.

dis­grace­ful dɪsˈ­greɪs­fʊl adj Mer­it­ing or caus­ing shame or dis­hon­or: shame­ful, shock­ing, scan­dalous, dis­hon­ourable, dis­cred­itable, objec­tion­able, mean, low, vile, odious

respectable rɪsˈpɛk­təbl adj Char­ac­ter­ized by social­ly or con­ven­tion­al­ly accept­able morals: rep­utable, of good repute, hon­est, hon­ourable, trust­wor­thy, decent, well bred

pre­ven­tive prɪˈvɛn­tɪv n Rem­e­dy that pre­vents or slows the course of an ill­ness or dis­ease: pro­phy­lac­tic, pro­phy­lac­tic med­i­cine, pre­ven­tive drug

sea-sick­ness ˈsiːˌsɪk nɪs n Motion sick­ness expe­ri­enced while trav­el­ing on water. Motion sick­ness expe­ri­enced while trav­el­ing on water…

heave hiːv v Rise and move, as in waves or bil­lows: lift, raise, hoist, heft

pitch pɪʧ v (Nau­ti­cal) To dip bow and stern alter­nate­ly: lurch, toss, toss about, plunge, roll, reel, sway, rock

go up the riv­er ⇒ To trav­el upstream on a riv­er in a boat or ship.

he might as well be dead ⇒ It was as if he was dead.

board and lodg­ing ⇒ Meals and accom­mo­da­tion, or the cost there­of.
board bɔːd n Live and take one’s meals at or in: food, meals, dai­ly meals, pro­vi­sions, sus­te­nance, nour­ish­ment;
lodg­ing ˈlɒʤɪŋ n Struc­tures col­lec­tive­ly in which peo­ple are housed.

ad lib ˌædˈlɪb adv With­out advance preparation.

to one’s cred­it ⇒ In one’s favor.

imply ɪmˈ­plaɪ v Express or state indi­rect­ly: insin­u­ate, sug­gest, hint, inti­mate, impli­cate, say indi­rect­ly, indicate

to come out ⇒ To be ren­dered in a par­tic­u­lar way, often a way that was not intended..

to strike with ⇒ To cause some­one to be over­come with some emotion.

to do care for some­thing ⇒ To like or want something.

scenery ˈsiːnəri n The appear­ance of a place: land­scape, coun­try­side, view, vista, panora­ma, outlook

not in one’s line ⇒ It is not in someone’s occu­pa­tion or area of interest.

rat ræt n Any of var­i­ous long-tailed rodents sim­i­lar to but larg­er than a mouse.

fool about ˈfuːləˈbaʊt v To joke about something.

to slop over ⇒ To spill or slosh over the side of some­thing as a result of being moved or sloshed around jerkily.

bal­ly fool­ish­ness ⇒ Com­plete nonsense.

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