They are mounted upon lame, decrepit-looking carriages, ready to sink under the useless burden of bearing them up.

Indeed, two or three have given up the ghost altogether, and the pieces they sustained lie half buried among their bleaching bones.

Several of the cannon are spiked; probably with a view of making them more formidable; as they certainly must be to anyone undertaking to fire them off.
Presented to Pomaree at various times by captains of British armed ships, these poor old "dogs of war," thus toothless and turned out to die, formerly bayed in full pack as the battle-hounds of Old England.
There was something about Hotoo-Otoo that struck my fancy; and I registered a vow to plant my foot upon its soil, notwithstanding an old bareheaded sentry menaced me in the moonlight with an unsightly musket.

As my canoe drew scarcely three inches of water, I could paddle close up to the parapet without grounding; but every time I came near, the old man ran toward me, pushing his piece forward, but never clapping it to his shoulder.

Thinking he only meant to frighten me, I at last dashed the canoe right Up to the wall, purposing a leap.