Into the cockpit, splashing, something dropped—a coil of rope.
Their country had been the cockpit of Europe from the time of Csar until Waterloo.
But at the same instant Chris leaped desperately from the cockpit of the scout.
With a word of farewell, he climbed out of the cockpit and onto a wing.
The fust hop landed me on my knees in the cockpit, and there I stayed.