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Updated: June 22, 2025
Failing them if disappointingly in evidence on every side was the integrity and the honour for which Mr. Bitt raved and bawled when in the thick of splashing a muddy pool, then, argued Mr. Bitt, catch hold of something trivial and splash it, flog it, placard it, into a sensational and semi-mysterious bait that would set the halfpennies rising like trout in an evening stream.
"I have the finder here," Bill told them; stepped to the door. On legs that shook my agitated George advanced. Mr. Vivian Howard drew forth his suffering finger with a loud pop; made three hasty strides to George; took the cat. "Abishag!" he cried in ecstasy, "Abishag!" In very gloomy tones Mr. Bitt announced that he was bust. "Well, I'm bust!" he said. "I'm bust. It is your cat, eh?" Mr.
It was upon this repeated injunction that my poor George tottered up the stairs of the Daily office, cat in arm, in Bill's wake. Bill rapped upon Mr. Bitt's door; poked in his head at the answering call; motioned my trembling George to wait; stepped over the threshold. Mr. Bitt sat behind a broad table; before him, deep in an armchair, smoking a cigarette, lay Mr. Vivian Howard. "Ah!
"Make a splash and keep splashing," was that of Mr. Henry T. Bitt, editor of Fleet Street's new organ, the Daily. Muddy pools were Mr. Bitt's speciality.
A calm voice, already strangely familiar, reassured him. "By your leave, sir, it's about time for you to rouse and bitt." It was Nelson's old foretop-man. The moon, slanting through the window, shone on his white head and those tranquil, big-dog eyes of his. Kit relaxed his hold. "That you, Piper?" he sighed. "I was dreaming of Fat George. What's the time?"
He had a leg either side of the wheel, standing full height and sawing the spokes a bit up and down to get the feel of her. The life line was trailing from his waist to the bitt the clear white sea was up to his middle and racing over the taffrail. He had cast away his mitts the better to grip the spokes, and even as I looked he took off his sou'wester and sent it scaling.
We left the Iroquoits in his fort and the feare in our breeches, for without apprehension we rowed from friday to tuesday without intermission. We had scarce to eat a bitt of sault meat. It was pitty to see our feete & leggs in blood by drawing our boats through the swift streames, where the rocks have such sharp points that there is nothing but death could make men doe what we did.
The crew were snug up under the weather rail and hanging on no mistake either about the way they were hanging on. Every once in awhile one of us would poke his head up to see what they were doing to windward of us. Mr. Duncan, who had come aboard just before we left the dock, was trying to sit on the weather bitt near the wheel-box. He had a line around his waist, too.
"Port it is," said Jack, half dreaming. "Come, Easy, you are not on board now. Rouse and bitt." Jack then sat up and looked at Gascoigne. The forage in the cart was so high round them that they could not see above it; they rubbed their eyes, yawned, and looked at each other. "Have you any faith in dreams," said Jack to Gascoigne, "because I had a very queer one last night."
Here, you Fleming " to another mid, who was lying upon a locker with his hands clasped under his head by way of a pillow "rouse and bitt, my hearty, and make yourself useful for once in a way; grab the corners of this chart and hold them down to the table until I give you a spell. That's it. Now then, Delamere, what is it that you want to know?"
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