For three months, during which a day seemed an age, the Abraham Lincoln furrowed all the waters of the Northern Pacific, running at whales, making sharp deviations from her course, veering
suddenly from one tack to another, stopping suddenly, putting on steam, and backing ever and anon at the risk of deranging her machinery, and not one point of the Japanese or American coast was left unexplored.
M'Kenzie immediately determined to return with him to Astoria, and, veering
about, the two parties encamped together for the night.
Why, all my mother's people come from Veering
Then, crouching, Kerchak slunk noiselessly around the open circle, veering
far away from the dead body lying before the altar-drum, but, as he passed, keeping his little, fierce, wicked, red eyes upon the corpse.
Ruth succeeded in veering
right and left and right again, and in running the narrow passage between table and bed to Martin's side; but Arthur veered too wide and fetched up with clatter and bang of pots and pans in the corner where Martin did his cooking.
No word was spoken, but at once the yacht began a most astonishing performance, veering
and yawing as though the greenest of amateurs was at the wheel.
He, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering
toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck.
He must see many beautiful ladies," she thought, veering
backward and forward between pride and humility.
As we started to leave the building and hunt for a seat, a small woman, possibly thirty years of age, with a washed-out complexion of the farmer's wife sort, darted up to him in a bird-like way, for all the world like the darting veering
gulls over our heads and fastened herself to his arm with the accuracy and dispatch and inevitableness of a piece of machinery.
Determined at once to prove the truth - or rather the falsehood - of her story, I hastened to Woodford as fast as my legs could carry me; first veering
round by a circuitous course, but the moment I was out of sight of my fair tormentor cutting away across the country, just as a bird might fly, over pasture-land, and fallow, and stubble, and lane, clearing hedges and ditches and hurdles, till I came to the young squire's gates.
back into warmth, it dwelt on ruddy bricks, flowering plum-trees, and all the tangible joys of, spring.
Franklin, after what looked to me like a little private veering
about between the different sides of his character, broke the silence as follows: