Word: wakeful
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...hauled, one morning, a delicate blue sea-horse drifted by, his head emerging perky from an island of seaweed. Joan tried desperately to scoop him up, ran to the taffrail and scooped again, but the supercilious creature escaped. Over the side plunged six-year-old Joan in its wake, swam faster and faster from the schooner, while her father bellowed orders, and the mate lowered the dinghy. The oarsmen finally caught her, but not before she had captured the anemone and thrust it in her overalls pocket. Back on board, she was more distressed by her dead sea-horse than...
...smaller, being 20 feet long with 60 horsepower motors. The "Red Top," as the first was named, was 27 feet long and had a 100 horse-power engine. The Greenport launches are built especially for crew coaching. They have the advantage, Coach Brown said, of leaving a very small wake...
Last week the "jiggle" was a boiling, foaming wake wave, and from the Enterprise's short, rakishly tilted funnels spewed enough smoke and steam at roaring forced draft to perceptibly darken the "blue." Behind lay British East Africa and the small, busy port of Dar-Es-Saalam, where Edward of Wales had taken ship. Ahead, beyond the Red Sea, beyond the Mediterranean, beyond Europe and the Channel lay the beloved Sovereign of an Empire. Radio flashes told that pleurisy had been followed by pneumonia, complicated by Bright's disease...
...Fisherman Zane Grey et al. may be, and excellent though the map of Admiral Dewey, the waters off Cape San Lucas were not full of huge, hungry denizens that evening. Mr. Hoover trolled first with a spinner, then with a silver minnow, and watched the launch's wake for the mighty splash of marlin, yellowtail or amberjack. But the splashes that came were comparatively small-a 15-pound dolphin, a 5-pound Spanish mackerel. A third fish, the "biggest one," got away. Beside Mr. Hoover in his launch stood and fished grey-templed Mark Sullivan, political pundit...
...many a M. Jourdain has suffered himself to be so humiliated in order that might taste the excitement of riding over the frosted fields, in the wake of a curving pack, after some red and frightned vixen! Now, this week, all over the J. S., fox-hunting approaches the crest of its season. At Meadow Brook and Radnor, at Warrenton and Millbrook, at Onwentsia and Milwaukee, the riders trot through the dark mists of dawn to gather, as light breaks, at a country gate or a cross roads between fields fenced with wood. Kids on stumpy ponies and millionaires slithering...