Canal Boat Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

‘Boat will be fine,’ Helena accepted huskily. This really was a completely different way of life, she thought as she sat in the back of the small motorboat Bryan piloted out into the busy Grand Canal, where dozens of boats similar to this one, as well as water-taxis and the much more romantic gondolas, glided smoothly through the water. But it was Bryan himself who held her attention as he sat behind the wheel, the slight breeze ruffling the darkness of his overlong hair, those beautiful brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he easily manoeuvred the boat through the slightly choppy water created by the passing of other crafts.

As he watched, more floaters boarded, hauling themselves like lizards over the sides. *** While the Thames barge lured floaters downriver in its bloody wake, a steam barge, hauling six lads and a dozen barrels of horse blood, did the same on the Regent’s Canal. At 14-feet wide and 70 long, the narrowboat was the maximum length that would fit in the Regent’s locks. Ornately painted blue and white with yellow trim, the canal boat was commonly used for hauling goods to and from the canal’s many wharves, timber yards, sawmills, coal yards, furniture factories, gutta percha works and coach manufactories. Sometimes it carried casks of wine. Tonight, the claret, still warm from the knacker’s yard,

Carolina vaulted an overturned cruiser, yanking Lyra with her, and felt the old exhilaration drag a yelp from her chest. At the edge of the block, they angled west, toward the canal, where rumor had it there was a boat, a real boat, with a working engine and enough room for six. Wyn kept up, barely. “Shit, shit, shit,” they muttered with every stride, but kept moving. Lyra bit down on her sleeve to keep from crying out. Even Morgan, teeth bared with effort, ran faster than she’d ever seen.

"The secondary channel runs right under the old coal pier. The water there is deep enough to float a barge, Elias. If we clear the timber deck before the state police bring the trucks down from the bridge, we can cross the canal on the footbridge by the rail yards." Elias let his hands drop from the wheel. The skin of his fingers was white, his palms gray where the old plastic coating of the steering spokes had rubbed off into his skin. He reached down, his fingers finding the latch of his door, but the pressure of the water outside was already binding the rusted hinges against the frame. "Push," Damien said. They hit the doors together, their shoulders throwing their weight against the old

He cursed under his breath, tossing it aside. The last motorboat bore down on them, spotlight sweeping across the water. Elena’s heart seized in her chest. “They’ll kill us!” she cried. Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Not tonight.” He rowed with a sudden burst of strength, steering them toward a narrow canal between huts. The motorboat tried to follow—but the canal was too tight. With a screech of wood on metal, the boat jammed against the walls. Shouts of fury echoed as the men tried to reverse.

In a patch of overgrown vegetables, the rusted frame of a child’s tricycle jutted from the earth like some forgotten relic. Since stepping out of the car behind St Pancras Station on Camley Street, Bobby hadn’t looked back once. By now I knew the cadence of his walk, the steady rhythm of his stride. He passed the Lock Keeper’s cottage without hesitation and continued along the canal. The looming gas works stretched shadows across the abandoned factories lining the southern bank. A weathered redevelopment billboard promised a future industrial estate, though it looked more like wishful thinking than certainty. Ahead, four narrowboats were moored along a stone embankment where the canal curved