Word: cockpit
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Before the Vagabond left the cockpit to return home; a Nantucketer who had been reckoning; the lines of his boat, shuffled his feet and spat over the wharf as though he wanted to step down and talk. The Vagabond hailed him to come aboard. The old salt accepted, and soon they were swapping tales such as only fishermen and sailors can. As the man, his face a grey stubble and his eyes reflecting a quiet pride, forgot the Cambridge puppy squatted before him and became absorbed in his own, other world, there unrolled a story...
...climbed into his own boat, and sat down in the cockpit where he had sat time and again before, times when it had blown steadily from the west, and to sit and be borne along through the waves was bliss; and times again when the wind whistled down from the north, when to sit in that cockpit was o wish to be dead, and to go below into the tumbling cabin was like wrestling with the hand of death itself. He mused a bit in the half light of the tin shed, and his eye caught on a splintered piece...
Suddenly, as he sat in the cockpit, whole scenes of serious sailing lived before him, scenes of the sea that gives New England its character. He saw the shores of the Kennebee River, a wild, fair stream, where the rocks jut right down to the water's edge, and trees, native pines, overhang the channel. Indians, the old Abenakis, paddled this stream in their canoes long before white men came with sloops and schooners, and all the modern devices for safety on the waters. He saw the waterfront of Portland, a city set on an hill, and a commercial center...
...friend Joe Crane, who runs a parachute school at Roosevelt Field, L. I. went up with him in a plane piloted by Russell T. Thaw, son of Harry K. Thaw and Evelyn Nesbit. In the cockpit Crane held a long rope tied to the ripcord on Fulen-wider's parachute, so if the writer failed to yank the 'chute open after he jumped, Crane could do it for him. At 2,000 feet. Fulenwider climbed out on the plane's wing, got his feet tangled in Crane's rope, jumped before anybody could yell...
...second most important event of the Coronation season, the fireworks and illumination of the greatest naval review since the World War. For the scene of the broadcast, British Broadcasting Corp. had chosen the most hallowed deck in the Royal Navy, Nelson's flagship the Victory in whose cockpit he died, lying in dry-dock at Portsmouth, two miles from the five-mile quadruple row of 160 of the world's fighting ships (see map). For announcer the B.B.C. chose Lieut. Commander Tom Woodrooffe, because he had spent the three years of his active service doing staff work...