Remember how we used to mix it with them Jerry bandits tryin' to blitz London?

No transport could get nearer than where the Blitz is lying, four miles out.'

Blitz—for Blitz it was—whined his receipt for the red token, backed from the aperture, and padded away like the wind.

His news was that the Blitz's steam-cutter had come in on the morning tide, and he had met von Brning when marketing at the inn.

The hull of the Blitz loomed up, and a minute later our kedge was splashing overboard and the launch was backing alongside.

Then I understood—only men-of-war sound bugles—the Blitz was here then; and very natural, too, I thought, and strode on.

He could not have testified from side view that it was Roque, so he took a chance on "Blitz."

I shall be going back to the Blitz on the evening tide, but you'll be busy then with your own boat.'