Word: sloop
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Nobody else wanted the old sloop; for years she had been propped up and rotting away in a meadow not far from salt water. But lean, grizzle-bearded Captain Joshua Slocum desperately wanted the 36-footer, and he got her. By the time he had put in a year's work rebuilding the Spray into a staunch, well-found craft, he was ready to put to sea. One spring day in 1895, with only Slocum aboard, the Spray sailed out of Boston harbor on what turned out to be a 46,000-mile voyage. At 51, Joshua Slocum...
Beginning as his secretary, Mug moved up to a quasi-partnership in Arthur Godfrey Productions, Inc., and has frequently been subject to fitful bursts of Godfrey generosity. At one time or another he has given her a secretarial education, a sloop, a farm in North Carolina, a Pontiac, a mink coat. Godfrey, referring both to her efficiency and her stubbornness, describes Mug as "my left arm-with my right hand on it." He superstitiously credits her with being a good-luck piece, and is apt to blame failures, like his dismal showing in the 1946 Broadway musical Three to Make...
Last Post. Last week, flying the ensigns of both France and Britain, H.M.S. Implacable put out to sea for the last time. Escorted by the British destroyer Finisterre and the sloop Redpole, and loaded with 150 tons of carefully secured ballast, she was towed out of Portsmouth Harbor, past the moored Victory; 28 miles out, she was cast adrift. Her escorts' colors fluttered to half-mast, a guard of bluejackets aboard the Finisterre presented arms, and the bugler sounded last post. Then, at a signal from Rear Admiral Sir Algernon Willis, a charge of cordite blew the Implacable...
...most respected cat in all Britain was a small, black, white-bibbed torn named Simon. As ship's cat on board the sloop H.M.S. Amethyst on her heroic voyage down China's Yangtze River last spring (TIME, May 2), Simon got his white whiskers singed by a Communist shell, his face and legs scratched by shrapnel. But throughout the Amethyst's cruise, Simon carried on in his billet, caught at least one mouse every...
Included in this writer's morning mail a few days ago was a postcard he had sent himself from Holland. This represented a momentary interest in the speed of the trans-Atlantic mails. On the back of the card was glossy photo graph of a neat white sloop knifing along a Dutch canal, with three well-starched citizens grinnning proudly on its deck...