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Updated: June 20, 2025
He knew Ally Bazan, and knew that the little fellow would have jeered at the offer of a first-cabin passage back to San Francisco in the swiftest, surest, steadiest passenger steamer that ever wore paint. So he remarked: "I ain't ever billed this promenade as a Coney Island picnic, I guess." Nickerson Slick Dick, the supercargo was all that Hardenberg, who captained the schooner, could expect.
Captain Elijah Nickerson, Hepsy Ann's father, was master and owner of the good schooner "Miranda," in which excellent, but rather strongly scented vessel, he generally made yearly two trips to the Newfoundland Banks, to draw thence his regular income; and it is to be remarked, that his drafts, presented in person, were never dishonored in that foggy region.
"What do we risk?" retorted Hardenberg; and it was the monosyllabic Strokher who gave the answer: "Chokee, by Jove!" "Ten is fair. It's ten or nothing," answered Hardenberg. "Gross, then, Joe. Ten on the gross or I give the job to the Ruggles and Banks." "Who's your bloomin' agent?" put in Ally Bazan. "Nickerson. I sent him with Peterson on that Mary Archer wreck scheme.
This would have brought Dow to the command of the division; but nearly at the same instant Dow himself was wounded and went to the rear, and so the command fell to Nickerson, who was with his brigade, and, in the confusion of the moment, was not notified. Thus, for some interval, there was no one to give orders for fresh dispositions among the regiments.
An' you know what Peterson says of him didn't give him no trouble at all. One o' my best men, boys." "There have been," observed Strokher stolidly, "certain stories told about Nickerson. Not that I wish to seem suspicious, but I put it to you as man to man." "Ay," exclaimed Ally Bazan. "He was fair nutty once, they tell me. Threw some kind o' bally fit an' come aout all skew-jee'd in his mind.
"I had twelve chillun but right now missus, I can only 'member dese names: Robert, 'Lijah, Edward, Cornelius, Littie, Rachel and Sophie." "I was converted in Leon County and after freedom I joined de Methodist church and my membership is now in Mount Zion A.M.E. Church in Jacksonville, Florida." "My fust husban was Nelson Walker and de las' one was name Dave Nickerson. Mrs.
It was Rolldown Nickerson, I saw as I wheeled; my forgotten enemy, flinging down the precious old brown casket he had robbed me of, and, still giving vent to that thin, high note of horror, careening, sliding, and spattering off down the sandslope. And as he vanished and his wail grew fainter around a shoulder of the dune, another sound came also to my ears.
"What do you think, Hosy!" she cried. "I've got a letter and you can't guess who it's from." "From Susanna?" I ventured. "Susanna! You don't suppose I'd be as excited as all this over a letter from Susanna Wixon, do you? No indeed! I've got a letter from Mrs. Hepton, who had the Nickerson cottage last summer.
In the mate's boat three survived, Owen Chase, the mate, Benjamin Lawrence, and Thomas Nickerson. Left on Duncie's Island, and afterwards taken off, Seth Weeks, William Wright, and Thomas Chapple. One left the ship before the accident. In the second mate's boat, when separated from the captain's, three. Dead, nine, which added to the second mate's crew, doubtless lost, makes total deaths twelve.
'Tain't always safe to jedge a candidate by the kind of cigars he gives out neither; I've found that out. "Reminds me of a funny thing that Obed Nickerson told me one time. Obed used to be in politics a good deal up and down the Cape, here, and he had consider'ble influence. 'Twas when Bradley up to Fall River was runnin' for Congress.
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