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Updated: June 2, 2025
Colonel Shreve was posted at a second bridge, also over a branch of the Rahway, in order to cover the retreat of Angel from the first. Major Lee with his dragoons and the piquets under Captain Walker, supported by Colonel Ogden, was directed to defend a bridge on the Vauxhall road.
"Jack S-hreve, sir," I answered. "Shreve? Now, what signboard did you rob? Shreve is a good name, too good for a foc'sle rat. Did you come by it honestly? Did you have a father by that name? I dare say not. A gutter product would not know his father, eh, my lad?" There was no mistaking the deliberate intent of the insult, or its foul meaning.
It was all I could do to keep from flying at his throat, when he came within reach of my arms. He murmured some hypocritical words as he stepped into my place. He was a good dissembler. "My heye, but poor 'Oly Joe caught it," says he. "They bloomin' near skinned 'im alive. They 'arve Newman in the lazaret. Blimme, Shreve, we got to do somethink abaht it!" The answer he got was a grunt.
I replied. "What else!" said he. His voice was suddenly crafty. "Well, now, Shreve, didn't it ever strike you as how we're blasted fools to let those fellows aft knock us about? There are thirty of us, and two of them!" "More than that," I warned him. "You forget Captain Swope, and the tradesmen. There are seven of them, aft, all armed, and of a fighting breed.
"And I suppose you'll hire them with your bags of gold, which you probably have stowed under your bunk?" "Well, now, maybe I'd just have to promise them something," he said. He glanced around, then leaned towards me and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Shreve, there are a hundred thousand dollars in hard cash aft there in the cabin!" "What's that?" I exclaimed. "Yes," he said. "I know.
"You understand, I am captain for the remainder of the passage," Lynch went on. "And I have decided to appoint you chief mate. Connolly will be second mate." Aye, that was it. Jack Shreve, chief mate of the Golden Bough! "I have decided," says Lynch but I knew the decision belonged to Newman and the lady, who were smiling at me across the table.
The task of constructing a great inland river marine to play the dual role of serving the cotton empire and of extending American migration and commerce into the trans-Mississippi region was solved by Henry Shreve when he built the Washington at Wheeling in 1816. Shreve was the American John Hawkins.
Not men alone I am able to invest even inanimate objects with personality. A house, a street, or a yes, even a ship. Even this ship. Now, this old box " Captain Shreve sat up straight in his chair. I thought he was rasped by the fellow's slur, for he is very proud of his ship.
"There will be no scheme set on foot from this foc'sle, save the one I father," he told the pair in his cool, level voice. "I gave you your answer last night. Now, if you two come between me and my goal, in this ship, as God lives, I'll kill you!" With that, he swung about and stepped into the port foc'sle. "Come on, Shreve," he said to me, over his shoulder. "Lend a hand.
"And then we caught hell," commented Mr. Briggs. Aye, he should say he did remember the Golden Bough. But he had never sailed in her. "And she looks commonplace enough," continued Captain Shreve, "providing you know nothing of her history. But she does not look commonplace to Briggs or me. I suppose we regard her through the mist of memory we see the tall, beautiful ship that was.
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