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Updated: June 22, 2025
'Tis Sir Gervaise Oakes, the pride of England! yet how changed! It is now five-and-twenty years since we last met; still I knew him at a glance. The servant is old Galleygo, his steward; but the gentleman with him is a stranger. Let us advance; we cannot be intruders in such a place." Sir Gervaise paid no attention to the entrance of the Wychecombes.
A clear day, and comfortably cool. Wind fair. Made land, and saw an English brig of war. Commander Oakes, of the Ferret, came on board. Made Cape Mount. August 1. At 12, meridian, anchored at Cape Mesurado, off the town of Monrovia. We find at anchor here the U. S. brig Porpoise, and a French barque, as well as a small schooner, bearing the Liberian flag.
With this characteristic leave-taking, we change the scene to the tent of Sir Gervaise Oakes. "You have seen Admiral Bluewater?" demanded the commander-in-chief, as soon as the form of Magrath darkened the entrance, and speaking with the sudden earnestness of a man determined to know the worst. "If so, tell me at once what hopes there are for him."
Then in a splendid bass voice he began to sing a hymn, and some women joined him. So Fred Oakes fell to his old accustomed task, and played them marching accompaniments on his concertina until his fingers ached and even he, the enthusiast, loathed the thing's bray. In one way and another a little of the pall of misery was lifted.
Whether or not his words had an effect, they proceeded to go after Oakes in a manner that might have discouraged any pitcher. Eliot, himself, started it with a screaming two-bagger, scoring on Crane's single. Sile took second on the throw to the plate, and stole third a moment later, romping to the pan after Cooper's fly to the outfield was caught.
He was a member of the Chicago Convention of 1860. As a member of the Governor's staff; in 1861, he rendered efficient service in raising troops for the war. In 1862 he was elected a Representative in the Thirty-Eighth Congress, from Ohio. He was re-elected in 1864, and again in 1866. 527. OAKES AMES was born in Easton, Massachusetts, January 10, 1804.
On December 11, 1872, he wrote to Oakes his last letter, saying sadly, but fondly: "God bless you ever, my dear and much-beloved friend." When the morning of December 12th came, his servant, hearing no sound in his chamber at his general hour of rising, became alarmed, opened his master's door, and found there, cold in death upon his bed, the form of the great tragedian.
Sir Gervaise Oakes, as a matter of course, watched the progress of the two lines with close and intelligent attention. Mons. de Vervillin did the same from the poop of le Foudroyant, a noble eighty-gun ship in which his flag of vice-admiral was flying, as it might be, in defiance.
You are all hot and excited." "They are going to arrest my musician, just think of that!" "Arrest your musician! Mr. Handyman! Why, what for?" "Because he hit Billy Keezer and Tom Oakes last night on the road. He cut them up pretty badly, so I heard." Nell looked at her sister for a few seconds in an effort to comprehend the meaning of it all. Then the truth flashed upon her mind.
The reader will remember that the wind had not become fresh when Sir Gervaise Oakes got into his barge, with the intention of carrying his fleet to sea. A retrospective glance at the state of the weather, will become necessary to the reader, therefore, in carrying his mind back to that precise period whither it has now become our duty to transport him in imagination.
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