Word: boatings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...tanks; the bodies of firemen hurtling through a hatch; seasick, half-naked passengers rushing for the decks; and later, when the lifeboats were launched, passengers and crew picking their way over bodies toward the rails, slipping on oil and filth. They had been ten or twelve hours in the boats, some of them foundering. They had waited anxiously for rescue. And, when rescue was at hand, they had seen one boat swamped and most of its occupants drowned before help could reach them, another one smashed to kindling by the propeller of a rescue ship. And so they were...
John Kennedy sidestepped: "It is much better to be on an American boat now than on a British boat, even if it was accompanied by the whole fleet...
Only amazement was added to horror last week by the continued insistence of official Berlin that the torpedo must have been British, fired to arouse U. S. indignation. Most charitable theory entertained by neutrals about "Atrocity No. 1" of World War II was that, while Germany's U-boats may have had orders to prey like gentlemen, the Athenia's destroyer was a Nazi hothead who could not control his trigger finger. Suspicion that a sharp order to other U-boat captains may have been issued by Berlin was aroused by the contrasting conduct of a captain...
...seven years ago, at lazy, old-world Oxford (port of entry for Maryland before Baltimore was even a village). Well-pedigreed Mrs. Elliott Wheeler, daughter of one of the founders of the exclusive Chesapeake Bay Yacht Club, asked seafaring Lowndes Johnson, another native blue blood, to design a small boat in which her young sons could learn the ABCs of sailing. A one-design boat, 16-ft. long and patterned somewhat after the bigger Stars (22 ft.) in which Designer Johnson had become famed as a skipper (1929 world's champion), the Comet was adopted...
Then the picket boat showed up. Marksman Peskin, his trigger-finger tensed, his eyes seeking the quarry, scrambled up the liner's Jacob's ladder, followed by the two guardsmen. By this time the lion, bored and weary, had curled up behind a divan, was peacefully snoozing. It was not the moment for the niceties of hunting etiquette. Marksman Peskin was taking aim, when the Amazone's Captain Nyhoff nervously reminded him that a luckless shot in the gunpowder magazine might blast them all to kingdom-come. Swallowing his professional pride, Marksman Peskin inched closer, then fired...