That was what I saw when their ship rose from the water.

The ship rose a foot or two from the ground.

Now the little ship was 300 miles high and still rising.

His own ship was now probably four hundred miles high and still rising.

The ship rose again and we heard voices once more.

I looked out at the great gray mass of the ship rising from the water.

The ship rose too slowly; the pilot tried to land.

And the ship rose barely enough to clear the next range of mountains.

The ship was rising high above the plane of the Ring.

The flying ship had come down upon a sort of curve, and was now rising again.