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Updated: May 23, 2025
Twenty miles perhaps from the place where you first perceived indications of real mud, the land will be firm enough to sustain a few piles supporting a fisherman's cabin or pilot's hut. Ten miles further on and you may see signs of life and cultivation. The river banks have risen to a height of two or three feet above the level of the water.
Tam felt the wind of the bullets and knew his machine was struck. Then his enemy crumpled and fell. He did not wait to investigate. The bomber was firing up at his nearest opponent when Tam took the third in enfilade and saw the pilot's head disappear behind the protective armoring. He swung round and saw the bombing machine diving straight for the earth with the German scout on his tail.
Aboard the sleek craft, Tom Corbett relaxed after the tremendous blast-off acceleration and turned to look at the tense face of Kit Barnard who was seated in the pilot's chair. "Why don't you get some sleep, Kit?" said Tom. "I can take this baby over. It's the least I can do for all you've done for me." "Thanks, Tom, but I'll stay with it awhile longer," replied the veteran spaceman.
I sink, I'm drowned, I'm gone, good people, I'm drowned. What countenances Panurge and Friar John kept during the storm. Pantagruel, having first implored the help of the great and Almighty Deliverer, and prayed publicly with fervent devotion, by the pilot's advice held tightly the mast of the ship. Friar John had stripped himself to his waistcoat, to help the seamen.
Already the seemingly inanimate body was sliding over the sloping side of the car, when Orris saw a hand stretch forth, seize the pilot's extended arm and hang thus, half dangling over the side, the legs kicking feebly.
I ventured commendation for this pilot's exploits. "'Pretty good youngster, said the commander. 'Soon be able to give him a journey he's been longing to have. "This youngster certainly seemed to me a past master in the flying art. "My interest next was centred on several barges probing their way through the canal.
Records at Hoover Terminal show two men reporting at pilots' gate under the number of your engineer, CG41. Hold your ship exactly where you are; we're sending a man aboard!" Chet had moved silently to the controls. The old multiple-lever instrument he knew it well! But he looked at Spud O'Malley and waited for his nod of assent before he presumed to trespass on another pilot's domain.
I shall let you drive if you call it driving. Now if Mr. Halliday will crank up for us, we'll go." "Mr. Halliday will let you set there till you get enough," Bland grinned sourly. "I'm thinking of your safety, sister. I'm thinkin' more of you than that piece of cheese in the pilot's seat." "Mr. Halliday, won't you please start the motor?"
But when it stopped suddenly at the curb and an old man climbed out, calling "Jacky, Jacky!" he paused. The old man was beckoning to his chauffeur and talking in an excited voice. "Come and look at him! I know it's Jacky," he was saying. At the name a memory stirred in Pilot's mind. He advanced slowly to the man.
One scorching hot day in summer Sam gets aboard the Coney boat, his idea being to put all business cares away for an hour or two, and just float calm and peaceful down the bay, and cool off. So he grabs out a camp chair and hustles through the crowd up to the top deck, beside the pilot's hangout, and sits down to get acquainted with the breeze, if such there was.
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