In those days they only came within a few degrees of the absolute perpendicular. Everyone in the excitement of the moment had adopted a whisper, for fear we should be heard, I suppose, though what chance there was of that with the row his engines were making, heaven only knows. Calling for the engineer, I told him to give her what steam he could without touching his fires, in case a spark should scare the Zepp away. Slowly we drew out, whilst No. 1 of the gun, with his eyes glued on the telescope waited for the gun sights to “come on.” Everyone was holding their breath, whilst the propeller slowly churned round.
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After cruising along that ironbound coast from Bolt Tail to the Start, we at last got a bit of welcome shelter in Start Bay. The weather easing down, we cruised along close in shore making slowly for Berry Head. Just before opening the Dart, I was examining the cliffs of Penlee Point just outside Dartmouth, with a pair of strong glasses, when I noticed two sets of steps cut in the cliff and leading down to deep water. However, I tucked it away for future reference, pushed on to Brixham, and trotted off ashore to make tough with the Coastguard, as arranged with my wife. Of course, in Brixham every one knows everyone; therefore it was perfectly apparent that for one thing I didn’t belong, and for another that I was no fisherman. An engineer at one time was seen to go into the stokehold, and never seen to come out, nor yet seen on deck.
Furthermore I had a strong objection to the splendid isolation usually enjoyed by the Captain of H.M. Not through any particular desire to rip up hoary naval traditions, but the times being what they were, to my mind a unit was nearer her peak of fighting efficiency when there was confidence and close touch throughout the ship. This applies more, perhaps to a Destroyer than on a big ship, where everything must be based just on routine—though frankly I think a lot of said routine could be dispensed with without any loss of fighting efficiency. Then he tried to get us and at the same time lighten himself by dropping his bombs, for there was no doubt that he was badly hit. “He’s coming down,” shouts everyone, now thoroughly worked up.
However, I stuck to my guns and said good-bye to the good old windjammers that I loved. There was certainly no shark hook or line in the whole wide world that would hold this chap, so the Captain dashed into the chart room for a rifle, and snatching one out of the rack, slipped in a cartridge, came out on deck and fired. I doubt if the bullet took any effect, but before he could reload, Tiger Jim had disappeared. To watch such a star as Sirius setting, is almost like looking through a kaleidoscope of boyhood memories. It resembles nothing better than a huge lamp, changing colour second by second through every hue, purple, crimson, blue, red.
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From the Oceanic as First, I was appointed to theTitanic of tragic memory, as First, and three very contented chaps took the midnight boat for Belfast, where she was completing. Murdoch, Chief, your humble, First, and Davy Blair, Second; Captain E.J. Smith, Commodore of the Line came over a little later on. Captain Smith, or “E.J.” as he was familiarly and affectionately known, was quite a character in the shipping world. At first sight you would think to yourself “Here’s a typical Western Ocean Captain.” “Bluff, hearty, and I’ll bet he’s got a voice like a foghorn.” As a matter of fact, he had a pleasant quiet voice and invariable smile.
Among the first European settlers and majority landowners in the area were Richard and Penelope Stout. Penelope “miraculously” survived her wounds from a native attack in Sandy Hook and further lived to the age of 110. Additionally, a group of Quaker families from Long Island settled the Monmouth Tract, an early land grant from Richard Nicolls issued in 1665.
Prickles an inch long, in fact the first one I trod on felt six inches. I had to sit down and nurse my feet, picking out the spikes. Then I got the Captain’s handkerchief and my own wrapped round one foot, and a heavy weather cap round the other, and away we went again. Every now and then in the cussedness of things, either the cap or the hankies would slip, and I’d do a hurried squat.
An Ipsos poll for the Economist last week found that 61% of the public think the country is headed in the wrong direction. Meanwhile, a poll by Redfield and Wilton Strategies of 40 crucial “red wall” seats finds Labour hanging on to 90% of its 2019 voters, against just 55% for the Conservatives. By the time we got her into dock her bow was deep down in the water and her stern cocked up in the air. Water was well over the mess decks and the last bulkhead was bulging ominously.
Longstreet Farm – A living history farm museum displaying a recreation of life in the 1890s. Workers dress in period costume, and perform the activities of a resident of the time period, such as planting and harvesting of crops, and taking caring of livestock. The Holmes-Hendrickson House, built in 1754, is a museum operated by the Monmouth County Historical Association near the farm. Monmouth County Jewish Heritage Museum – focuses on Jewish life in the county, which dates back to 1720. A secular private school, Ranney School, is also located in the county.
Down came a rain of bombs instead, all exploding as they hit the water, like a Brock’s benefit and Crystal Palace show rolled into one. He’d had enough of it, and was throwing everything overboard, in a frantic effort to escape. By the flash from our gun, he saw where the shots were coming from; so he turned his tail towards us, giving, in the darkness, an impossible target. search collarspace.com The majority rejoiced in the designation of “White’s Coffins” perhaps because they were painted white, and made quite suitable marine tombstones. Frequently they got off the water, but more frequently they didn’t. I wasn’t a bit surprised when the Chief officer of Coastguards called with his retinue, no doubt supported by the local constabulary secreted behind the door.
There was no object in dashing up on deck and chance getting washed overboard; if the ship were going down, one might as sell stay where one was. A few minutes later I felt her broach-to, and over she went, almost on her beam ends, being pounded all the time by the huge seas breaking on her. After a few long drawn minutes she eventually came to, head on to wind and righted. No, we didn’t enthuse over the idea one bit, yet there was no alternative that we could see, if we were to make the Smokey River, get in a satisfactory prospect along the course, and finally fetch Peace River Landing. However, some decision had to be made, and that right quickly, for the share left us consisted of less than a week’s supply.