"Taffrail" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... of a gun, I saw the tricolour being slowly hauled down from the ensign staff upon which it had been hoisted when her mizenmast fell. The Captain, too, sprang up beside me in time to see the flag go fluttering in over the taffrail as it ...
— A Middy of the King - A Romance of the Old British Navy • Harry Collingwood
... round us, and a large tumbling swell threatened to poop us; the long-boat, which was at this time moored astern, was on a sudden canted so high that it broke the transom of the Commodore's gallery, and would doubtless have risen as high as the taffrail had it not been for this stroke which stove the boat all to pieces; but the poor boat-keeper, though extremely bruised, was saved almost by miracle. About eight the tide slackened, but the wind did not abate; so that at eleven the best bower cable, by which alone we rode, ...
— Anson's Voyage Round the World - The Text Reduced • Richard Walter
... rough one, but the Irish girl did not suffer from seasickness. She stood leaning over the taffrail chatting to the captain, who thought her one of the most charming passengers he ever had to cross in the Munster; and when they arrived at the opposite side, Mr. Hartrick was waiting for his niece. He often said since that he would never forget his first sight of Nora ...
— Light O' The Morning • L. T. Meade
... imminent. Our men had been supplied with muskets, and told to conceal themselves and use them when the critical time came, and to make sure that every shot was effectual. Two small cannon, which were fixtures on the taffrail, were loaded ready to do service. At last she came within hailing distance of our weather beam. A man shouted through a speaking-trumpet in mongrel English to 'Heave to!' We did not heed this insolent command, but kept going. In a few minutes more a peremptory ...
— The Shellback's Progress - In the Nineteenth Century • Walter Runciman
... bright sunshine had brought the passengers on deck like bees from a hive, and the two broad promenades resembled, in color and life, the streets of a city. The watch was busy at the inevitable scrubbing, and Rowland, with a swab and bucket, was cleaning the white paint on the starboard taffrail, screened from view by the after deck-house, which shut off a narrow space at the stern. A little girl ran into the inclosure, laughing and screaming, and clung to his legs, while she jumped up and down in ...
— The Wreck of the Titan - or, Futility • Morgan Robertson
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