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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Talkin' o' wakes " said Pyecroft suddenly. "We weren't," Hinchcliffe grunted. "There's some wakes would break a snake's back; but this of yours, so to speak, would fair turn a tapeworm giddy. That's all I wish to observe, Hinch. ... Cart at anchor on the port-bow. It's Agg!" Far up the shaded road into secluded Bromlingleigh we saw the carrier's cart at rest before the post-office.
At no time could we see the trawler though we heard the click of her windlass, the jar of her trawl-beam, and the very flap of the fish on her deck. "Aie! yeou little man-o'-war! We'm done with trawl. You can take us home if you know the road." "Right O!" said Moorshed. "We'll give the fishmonger a run for his money. Whack her up, Mr. Hinchcliffe." The next few hours completed my education.
Man dead ahead, Hinch semaphorin' like the flagship in a fit!" "Amen!" said Hinchcliffe. "Shall I stop, or shall I cut him down?" "Twenty-three and a half miles an hour," he began, weighing a small beam- engine of a Waterbury in one red paw. "From the top of the hill over our measured quarter-mile twenty-three and a half." "You manurial gardener " Hinchcliffe began.
"Do we turn over to the new cruiser?" I nodded, and he escorted our guest to the tonneau with care. When I was in, he sat himself broad-armed on the little flap-seat which controls the door. Hinchcliffe sat by Kysh. "You drive?" Kysh asked, with the smile that has won him his chequered way through the world. "Steam only, and I've about had my whack for to-day, thanks." "I see."
"No, I'm not," said Hinchcliffe of a sudden "not if I'm expected to judge my water out of a little shaving-glass." The water-gauge of that steam-car was reflected on a mirror to the right of the dashboard. I also had found it inconvenient. "Throw up your arm and look at the gauge under your armpit. Only mind how you steer while you're doing it, or you'll get ditched!"
My engineer skipped into the bracken like a rabbit. I bade him cut across Sir Michael Gregory's park, and if he caught my friend, to tell him I should probably be rather late for lunch. "I ain't going to be driven by him." Our destined prey pointed at Hinchcliffe with apprehension. "Of course not. You sake my seat and keep the big sailor in order. He's too drunk to do much.
We crossed that elastic structure and stood ready amid the bracken. Hinchcliffe gave her a full steam and she came like a destroyer on her trial. There was a crack, a flicker of white water, and she was in our arms fifty yards up the slope; or rather, we were behind her, pushing her madly towards a patch of raw gravel whereon her wheels could bite.
Samuel Provost, D.D., were consecrated bishops in Lambeth Chapel, by John Moore, Archbishop of Canterbury, William Markham, Archbishop of York, Charles Moss, Bishop of Bath and Wells, and John Hinchcliffe, Bishop of Peterborough. The sermon was preached by the chaplain of the primate. Our minister to England, Hon. John Adams, urged the application of Drs.
"Here!" said Hinchcliffe, still on his back, to the engineer. "Come here and show me the lead of this pipe." And the engineer lay down beside him. "That's all right," said Mr. Hinchcliffe, rising. "But she's more of a bag of tricks than I thought. Unship this superstructure aft" he pointed to the back seat "and I'll have a look at the forced draught." The engineer obeyed with alacrity.
"There's a bit of good going hereabouts." He flung a careless knee over the low raking tiller that the ordinary expert puts under his armpit, and down four miles of yellow road, cut through barren waste, the Octopod sang like a six-inch shell. "Whew! But you know your job," said Hinchcliffe. "You're wasted here. I'd give something to have you in my engine-room."
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