Seamen Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
there-were-gentlemen-there-were-seamen-in-navy-charles-second-but-seamen-were-not-gentlemen-gentlemen-were-not-seamen-thomas-b-macaulay
the-shorelands-will-quake-when-your-seamen-cry-out-ezekiel-2728
i-am-just-bit-player-seaman-doing-his-part-like-all-seamen-out-there
god-bless-soldiers-seamen-with-all-their-brave-commanders-abraham-lincoln
all-who-handle-oars-will-abandon-their-ships-mariners-all-seamen-will-stand-on-shore-ezekiel-2729
familiarity-with-danger-makes-brave-man-braver-but-less-daring-thus-with-seamen-he-who-goes-oftenest-round-cape-horn-goes-most-circumspectly-herman-melville
men-sidon-arvad-were-your-oarsmen-your-skilled-men-o-tyre-were-aboard-as-your-seamen-ezekiel-278
when-i-look-upon-seamen-men-science-philosophers-man-is-wisest-all-beings-when-i-look-upon-priests-prophets-nothing-is-as-contemptible-as-man
ive-seen-your-stormy-seas-stormy-women-and-pity-lovers-rather-more-than-seamen-lord-byron
the-days-languorous-shore-leave-are-long-gone-overnight-stays-are-unheard-sailor-towns-distant-memory-in-better-ports-seafarers-head-for-seamens-mission
those-officers-men-who-were-immediately-under-my-observation-evinced-greatest-gallantry-i-have-no-doubt-that-all-others-conducted-themselves-as-oliver-hazard-perry
a-man-who-journeys-in-desert-finds-guide-among-desert-people-he-who-journeys-on-sea-trusts-seamen-marmaduke-william-pickthall
The defenders retreated, but in good order. A musket flamed and a ball shattered a marine's collar bone, spinning him around. The soldiers screamed terrible battle-cries as they began their grim job of clearing the defenders off the parapet with quick professional close-quarter work. Gamble trod on a fallen ramrod and his boots crunched on burnt wadding. The French reached steps and began descending into the bastion. 'Bayonets!' Powell bellowed. 'I want bayonets!' 'Charge the bastards!' Gamble screamed, blinking another man's blood from his eyes. There was no drum to beat the order, but the marines and seamen surged forward. 'Tirez!' The French had been waiting, and their muskets jerked a handful of attackers backwards. Their officer, dressed in a patched brown coat, was horrified to see the savage looking men advance unperturbed by the musketry. His men were mostly conscripts and they had fired too high. Now they had only steel bayonets with which to defend themselves. 'Get in close, boys!' Powell ordered. 'A Shawnee Indian named Blue Jacket once told me that a naked woman stirs a man's blood, but a naked blade stirs his soul. So go in with the steel. Lunge! Recover! Stance!' 'Charge!' Gamble turned the order into a long, guttural yell of defiance. Those redcoats and seamen, with loaded weapons discharged them at the press of the defenders, and a man in the front rank went down with a dark hole in his forehead. Gamble saw the officer aim a pistol at him. A wounded Frenchman, half-crawling, tried to stab with his sabre-briquet, but Gamble kicked him in the head. He dashed forward, sword held low. The officer pulled the trigger, the weapon tugged the man's arm to his right, and the ball buzzed past Gamble's mangled ear as he jumped down into the gap made by the marines charge. A French corporal wearing a straw hat drove his bayonet at Gamble's belly, but he dodged to one side and rammed his bar-hilt into the man's dark eyes. 'Lunge! Recover! Stance!

David Cook
the-defenders-retreated-but-in-good-order-a-musket-flamed-ball-shattered-marines-collar-bone-spinning-him-around-the-soldiers-screamed-terrible-battlecries-as-they-began-their-gr
It was while gliding through these latter waters that one serene and moonlight night, when all the waves rolled by like scrolls of silver; and, by their soft, suffusing seethings, made what seemed a silvery silence, not a solitude; on such a silent night a silvery jet was seen far in advance of the white bubbles at the bow. Lit up by the moon, it looked celestial; seemed some plumed and glittering god uprising from the sea. Fedallah first descried this jet. For of these moonlight nights, it was his wont to mount to the main-mast head, and stand a look-out there, with the same precision as if it had been day. And yet, though herds of whales were seen by night, not one whaleman in a hundred would venture a lowering for them. You may think with what emotions, then, the seamen beheld this old Oriental perched aloft at such unusual hours; his turban and the moon, companions in one sky. But when, after spending his uniform interval there for several successive nights without uttering a single sound; when, after all this silence, his unearthly voice was heard announcing that silvery, moon-lit jet, every reclining mariner started to his feet as if some winged spirit had lighted in the rigging, and hailed the mortal crew. 'There she blows!' Had the trump of judgment blown, they could not have quivered more; yet still they felt no terror; rather pleasure. For though it was a most unwonted hour, yet so impressive was the cry, and so deliriously exciting, that almost every soul on board instinctively desired a lowering.

Herman Melville
it-was-while-gliding-through-these-latter-waters-that-one-serene-moonlight-night-when-all-waves-rolled-by-like-scrolls-silver-by-their-soft-suffusing-seethings-made-what-seemed-s
March 1898 What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Barcelona or Marseille. The streets were noisome, with their freshly-heaped piles of ordure outside the doors, in the blue shadows of their high roofs. They all led down towards the sea. The gold-spangled sea, seeming as if it had been polished by the sun, could be seen at the end of each thoroughfare, bristling with yard-arms and luminous masts. The implacable blue of the sky shone brilliantly overhead as I wandered through the long, cool and sombre corridors in the emptiness of a deserted district: a quarter which might almost have been dead, abruptly abandoned by seamen and foreigners. I was alone, subjected to the stares of prostitutes seated at their windows or in the doorways, whose eyes seemed to ransack my very soul. They did not speak to me. Leaning on the sides of tall bay-windows or huddled in doorways, they were silent. Their breasts and arms were bare, bizarrely made up in pink, their eyebrows were darkened, they wore their hair in corkscrew-curls, decorated with paper flowers and metal birds. And they were all exactly alike! They might have been huge marionettes, or tall mannequin dolls left behind in panic - for I divined that some plague, some frightful epidemic brought from the Orient by sailors, had swept through the town and emptied it of its inhabitants. I was alone with these simulacra of love, abandoned by the men on the doorsteps of the brothels. I had already been wandering for hours without being able to find a way out of that miserable quarter, obsessed by the fixed and varnished eyes of all those automata, when I was seized by the sudden thought that all these girls were dead, plague-stricken and putrefied by cholera where they stood, in the solitude, beneath their carmine plaster masks... and my entrails were liquefied by cold. In spite of that harrowing chill, I was drawn closer to a motionless girl. I saw that she was indeed wearing a mask... and the girl in the next doorway was also masked... and all of them were horribly alike under their identical crude colouring... I was alone with the masks, with the masked corpses, worse than the masks... when, all of a sudden, I perceived that beneath the false faces of plaster and cardboard, the eyes of these dead women were alive. Their vitreous eyes were looking at me... I woke up with a cry, for in that moment I had recognised all the women. They all had the eyes of Kranile and Willie, of Willie the mime and Kranile the dancer. Every one of the dead women had Kranile's left eye and Willie's right eye... so that every one of them appeared to be squinting. Am I to be haunted by masks now?

Jean Lorrain
march-1898-what-strange-dream-i-had-last-night-i-wandered-in-warm-streets-port-in-low-quarter-some-barcelona-marseille-the-streets-were-noisome-with-their-freshlyheaped-piles-ord
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