Word: sailorful
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...headlong amateur sailor who combined prayer and oratory with his seamanship, he sailed his ketch Nona strenuously and recklessly round the dangerous coasts of Great Britain in a good deal of foul weather, until he was an old man. His wife, an American, had died in 1914; his eldest son Louis was killed in World War I. When his youngest son, Peter, lost his life in World War II, Belloc gave up letters. He was already an old man. He lived on in his Sussex farmhouse, a short, stout figure, red of face, wearing a collar several times too large...
...shipyards and backyards where these hulls came from, still others remained. Their toiling owners, in various stages of undress, from bathing suits to paint-sprayed dungarees, were busy with the sailor's shore duties of scraping, sanding and painting, and devoting more loving care to the job than most of them would expend on their cars or their homes...
From the sea blue of its cover, framing a color painting, often of a ship under full sail, through more than 150 pages laden with enticing boat ads, articles and pictures, Yachting is more than a pleasure sailor's handbook. Every issue is loaded to the gunwales with first-person true-adventure tales of men against the sea that are read as avidly by landlubbers as by yachtsmen. More than 75% of Yachting's articles come from yachtsmen (rate: $105 per 3,500-word article) who, with the help of Yachting's editors, set down their experiences...
...Helm. No Yachting staffer is happier with a deck underfoot than the magazine's 81-year-old Publisher, Herbert L. Stone, a small (5 ft. 6 in.), ruddy-faced, crinkle-eyed sailor who has been going down to the sea in yachts ever since he was a boy in Charleston, S.C. In 1908, after working up to be assistant paymaster on the New York Central Railroad, Stone changed his course abruptly. At 36, he took the helm of Yachting, which his friend Oswald Garrison Villard, publisher of the New York Evening Post and the Nation, had started the year...
...decided to impart a higher tone to her claret cup by adding the contents of a curiously shaped bottle which she understood came from a Carthusian monastery." The day was warm, and after downing two tumblers of the brew, Visitor Stowe had the illusion that she had become a sailor. Her "berth" (the sofa), she complained, was "going up and down" so tempestuously that she had difficulty in climbing into it. Her last words, growled out as she collapsed: "I won't be any properer than I've a mind to be. Let me sleep...