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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Keep on bailing, Gil," cried Sandy, "an' when we git past the Elbow, if they're too close to us, I'm goin' to use my pistol on 'em, but I don't want ter shoot till I can make the shot tell fer all it's worth. Steady, Lily; hold tight, Gil; don't move, I'll git yer through without swampin', 'cause I knows every current in the Elbow."
"Throw yer blankets into an empty bunk an' be ready fer work in the mornin'. I'll put you swampin' fer the big Swede I guess that 'll hold you. Yer wages is forty-five a month an' I'm right here to see that you earn 'em." "Can I buy blankets here? I threw mine away coming out." "Comin' out! Comin' in, you mean! Men come in to the woods. In the spring they go out if they're lucky.
It occupies the entire attention of Seagriff, who, looking along it toward the east, at length says, "Thet's the Beagle Channel; the way we were to hev gone but fur the swampin' of our boat. An' to think we'd 'a' been runnin' 'long it now, 'nstead o' stannin' helpless hyar! Jest our luck!" To his bitter reflection no one makes response.
"Wall, Captin', ef yon glasheer war to give off a berg, any sort of a big 'un, it mout be the means o' leavin' us 'ithout any boat at all." "But how?" "How? Why, by swampin' or smashin' the only one we've got, the which " "Thunder an' airthquakes! See yonder! The very thing we're talkin' 'bout, I vow!" No need for him to explain his words and excited exclamations.
Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in a continuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong canes every eighteen inches apart in the row, and the rows five feet apart, so he could run a horse-cultivator between. Are you catchin' on, Merton?" "Yes, sir," said the boy, with much interest. "Well, all these suckers and extra plants that are swampin' the ground are just as bad as weeds.
Likewise on the West Coast, mangrove swampin', an' gettin' the cutter stove in on small an' unlikely bars, an' manufacturin' lies to correspond. What I don't know about Mr. Moorshed is precisely the same gauge as what Mr. Moorshed don't know about me half a millimetre, as you might say.
"He knows who they are: they're a couple of Germans who've got a bungalow on Sheppey, close to that little creek we used to put in at." "You make 'em pay," continued Tommy. "They haven't a leg to stand on, rushing past like that. They as near as possible swamped us." Mr. Gow cast a critical eye round the Betty. "Ay! and you'd take a deal o' swampin, mister.
He picked up the book, griming the dainty pages as he turned them with his rough fingers, glancing at the headings. "Um-huh," he grunted, "'Sonnets from the Portegees, eh? I never thought them Dagos could write what I've seen of 'em was mostly drivin' fish-wagons or swampin' around some slaughterhouse.
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