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Updated: June 13, 2025
Not unnaturally, this question of local supremacy was first tested in the one place in which local supremacy is usually tested the church where they both worshiped. Although only one of five trustees, Burridge had been the will of the body. Always, whatever he thought, the others had almost immediately agreed to it.
He and Graves were not on terms of intimacy, by any means. He decided quickly not to say anything against Graves. It could do no good and it might do harm. "Right," he said. "I know him yes. I'll be going, then. You'll give my message to Mercer or Young if there's any way of getting the line clear?" "Yes, if I sit up until my next turn of duty," said Burridge, with a smile. "Good luck, Fleming."
Whaling died out, then mackerel and cod were caught only at farther and farther distances from the town, and finally three- and even two-masted schooners ceased entirely to buy their outfits here, and Burridge was left dependent upon local patronage or smaller harbor trade for his support.
As I watched the two and recalled their intimacy at the Burridge the first night we had seen them, I almost began to wonder whether I might not have been wrong about Leontine. Had it been that I had distrusted the woman merely because I was suspicious of the type, both male and female? Had I been finding food for suspicion because I was myself suspicious?
This William Burridge was the person who with Nat Hawes made their escape out of New Prison, by the assistance of a woman, as the life of that malefactor is before related. And as he saved himself then from the same ignominious death which afterwards befell him, so he escaped it another time by becoming evidence against one Reading, who died for the life offences.
For one thing, it was a woman's voice, and it was not the sort of remark to be expected from a woman, at least not in such a place. Craig had been working pretty hard and began to show the strain. We had taken an evening off and now had dropped in after the theater at the Burridge, one of the most frequented midnight resorts on Broadway.
The set of villains into whose society he had joined himself, viz., Carrick who was executed, Carrol who made his escape into Ireland, Lincoln of whom we shall speak afterwards, Shaw and Burridge before mentioned, and William Lock, perpetrated together a prodigious number of villainies often attended with cruel and bloody acts.
Up in Northfield, a nearby town, dwelt a colonel of the Civil War who had led the very regiment of which Burridge was a member but who during the war had come into serious difficulty through a tangle of orders, and had been dishonorably discharged.
But now that Palmer had become a power, many of those ardent in the church and beholden to him for profit became his humble followers. They elected him trustee and did what he wished, or what they thought he wished. To Burridge this made them sycophants, slaves. Now followed the kind of trivialities by which most human feuds are furthered.
"You write to me if things don't get better. You know where to find Jack Burridge." Strolling about the streets in the evening, I happened to pass the inn where he was staying. The parlour window was open, and out into the misty night his deep, cheery voice, trolling forth an old-fashioned drinking song, came rolling like a wind, cleansing the corners of one's heart with its breezy humanness.
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