"The Wide Window" by Lemony Snicket, Chapters 9–13

The Baudelaires stood under the awning of the ticket booth and looked down at the far end of the deserted dock, where they could see a metal gate that was very tall and had glistening spikes on the top of it.

“They’ll have to,” Violet said resolutely, a word which here means “as if she believed it, even though she wasn’t so sure,” and she led her siblings toward the shack.

These people were rude, and they were sneaky, and they did whatever Count Olaf—or in this case, Captain Sham—told them to do, and the orphans never knew when they would turn up. And now, one had turned up right there in the shack, dangerous, treacherous, and snoring.

He put the atlas down on the ground and began to try the skinny key in the lock, just as Count Olaf’s comrade came lumbering out of the shack.

Count Olaf’s comrade did not answer, but kept shuffling toward the orphans.

Violet was kicking the creature from behind, and Sunny was biting its wrist, but the person was so Brobdingnagian—a word which here means “unbelievably husky”—that the children were causing it minimal pain, a phrase which here means “no pain at all.”

In the dim light of the late afternoon, Klaus wiped the grime of the creature’s foot off the cover of the atlas, and began to read it.

So at this point in the story, in order to mollify the publishers—the word “mollify” here means “get them to stop tearing their hair out in worry”—please allow me to give you a piece of advice, even though I don’t know anything about you.

You should especially not do this if, like the Baudelaire orphans, you have only a vague idea of how to work a sailboat.

In the back, there was a sort of wooden lever with a handle for moving it this way and that, and under one of the seats was a shiny metal bucket for bailing out any water in case of a leak.

“And this lever is called a tiller,” Violet shouted. “I remember it from studying some naval blueprints. The tiller controls the rudder, which is below the water, steering the ship. Sunny, sit in back and work the tiller. Klaus, hold the atlas so we can tell where we’re going, and I’ll try to work the sail. I think if I pull on this rope, I can control the sail.”

Klaus kept a close eye on the atlas and made sure they weren’t heading off course to the Wicked Whirlpool or the Rancorous Rocks.

Rocks began to scrape the bottom of the boat, which meant they were in very shallow water, and Violet jumped out to drag the sailboat onto the craggy shore.

In front of the cave there was a sign saying it was for sale, and the orphans could not imagine who would want to buy such a phantasmagorical—the word “phantasmagorical” here means “all the creepy, scary words you can think of put together”—place.

Klaus stepped forward and played his trump card, a phrase which means “said something very convincing, which he had saved for the end of the argument.”

But in the case of the Baudelaire orphans, I’m sure you can guess what happened to prompt Klaus to use this expression.

And frustrated moths tend to bang up against lightbulbs and make light fixtures all dusty.

With a loud thwack! the leeches all hit the boat more or less at once, and the sailboat rocked precariously, a word which here means “in a way which almost threw Aunt Josephine and the Baudelaire youngsters to their doom.”

Grimacing, Klaus walked cautiously over to it and tried to kick the leech overboard, but it clung onto his shoe and began gnawing through the leather.

Just as she had hoped, the sail ripped as she hurtled to the ground, slowing her down and leaving her with a large piece of torn cloth.

It looked like she was about to go fishing for some kind of fish that liked sailboats and hair accessories for food.

“I’m trying to create friction,” Violet said. “If I rub two pieces of wood enough, I’ll create friction. Friction creates sparks. When I get a spark, I’ll set the cloth and hairnet on fire and use it as a signal.”

Because as soon as Violet saw the flickering reflection, she remembered the scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light.

The scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light are very confusing, and quite frankly I can’t make head or tail of them, even when my friend Dr. Lorenz explains them to me.

Burning ants, of course, is an abhorrent hobby—the word “abhorrent” here means “what Count Olaf used to do when he was about your age”—but remembering the story made Violet see that she could use the lens of the spying glass to focus the light of the moon and make a fire.

“It’s miraculous!” Klaus cried, as the flame took hold.
“It’s unbelievable!” Aunt Josephine cried.
“Fonti!” Sunny shrieked.
“It’s the scientific principles of the convergence and refraction of light!” Violet cried, wiping her eyes.

With a gurgly whoosh! their own sailboat was overwhelmed with water and quickly sank into the depths of the lake.

“I don’t necessarily have to kill you. People just have to think that you’re dead.”

She had provided a home, even if it was cold and unable to withstand hurricanes.

“You’re very distraught, which means ‘upset.’”

Violet looked relieved. Klaus looked assuaged, which is a fancy word for “relieved” that he had learned by reading a magazine article.

“We’ve caught you now, and there’s no way you’ll be getting away. The Lake Lachrymose Police Department will be happy to capture a known criminal wanted for fraud, murder, and the endangerment of children.”
“And arson,” Count Olaf piped up.

“Get back here in the name of the law! Get back here in the name of justice and righteousness! Get back here in the name of Mulctuary Money Management!”

Utterly exhausted and more than utterly miserable, the Baudelaire orphans sank to the ground, sitting glumly in the very same spot where we found them at the beginning of this story.

And we can never know exactly what was happening to Aunt Josephine as the children sat on the dock, unable to help her, but I will say that eventually—about the time when the Baudelaire orphans were forced to attend a miserable boarding school—two fishermen found both of Aunt Josephine’s life jackets, all in tatters and floating alone in the murky waters of Lake Lachrymose.