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Updated: May 7, 2025
There were occasional patches of ruddy brown and yellow which relieved the general black and white appearance of this uninhabitable land, and close to the shore on the north side of Cape Evans were small patches of even gritty sand. In the neighbourhood of our Cape hard, brittle rocks cropped up everywhere, rocks that played havoc with one's boots.
I wonder if Hagar has a letter for me!" and, chirruping to Gritty, she soon stood at the door of the cabin. "Have you two been quarreling?" asked Hagar, noticing Maggie's flushed cheeks. "Mr. Carrollton passed here twenty minutes or more ago, looking mighty sober, and here you are with your face as red What has happened?" "Nothing," answered Maggie, a little testily, "only he's the meanest man!
The youthful eye on their sex, the Irish voice, and the perceptible moral earnestness in the background, made up a quaint mixture. Meanwhile India, our lubber giant, had ceased to kick a leg, and Ireland, our fever-invalid, wore the aspect of an opiate slumber. The volcano we couch on was quiet, the gritty morsel unabsorbed within us at an armistice with the gastric juices.
So saying, Maggie climbed the bank, and, mounting Gritty, who stood quietly awaiting her, seized the other horse by the bridle and rode swiftly away, leaving the young man to meditate upon the novel situation in which he had so suddenly been placed.
"Just in time, and that's all, captain," said the engineer as he brought the launch about. "Better reach for the chap in the water first." "No," Shag managed to say, "take the kiddie; he's slipping off. I'm good for a minute longer." So they lifted Freddy into the launch, then poor unconscious Hal, and lastly Shag, exhausted but gritty and game to the last.
"It's sure up to you, Ike," he said. "Guess you best git busy right away." The rest waited for the youngster's acceptance of the responsibility, which promptly came with perfect good-will. "Gee! But you're a gritty outfit," he cried, with a wide grin. "Say, I guess you'd need a fence around you shootin' jack-rabbits. Jack-rabbits is ter'ble fierce.
The short, uneasy heave of waters in among the kelpy rocks, flowing from no swell or furrow on the misty glass of sea, but like a pulse of discontent, and longing to go further; after the turn, the little rattle of invaded pebbles, the lithe relapse and soft, shampooing lambency of oarweed, then the lavered boulders pouring gritty runnels back again, and every basined outlet wavering toward another inlet; these, and every phase of each innumerable to-and-fro, made or met their impress in her fluctuating misery.
He could still see the lights of the foyer. He had half suspected that someone was trying to trap him out here, and they might have turned off the lights. He swiveled his head around for one last look. He still couldn't see a sign of anyone. There was nothing he could do but head back and report the incident. He started slogging back through the gritty snow.
There had been many and many a day when his pluck had failed him, when he had questioned whether his voice was really good, whether, after all, it were possible to make an artist out of gritty Puritan stock; whether, in fact, he was not a thing of fibre, rather than a man of temperament. His progress was great; but his ideals kept pace with it.
I lay in a bunk that felt gritty and greasy to the touch, and my hair was matted behind by a clot of blood. I had been stripped of my clothes, and put into some coarse and rough material, the colour and condition of which I could not see for want of light.
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