{"id":"01KG8AK0QJG2RYS8W63FSCC3DR","cid":"bafkreidvcdjnj7ywjcidagtn2ch25i7dsnppwy35ls7py45xatdcjbga5u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":306,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:50.352Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","start_line":211,"text":"BRIDEGROOM DICK\r\n\r\n\r\n1876\r\n\r\n\r\nSunning ourselves in October on a day\r\nBalmy as spring, though the year was in decay,\r\nI lading my pipe, she stirring her tea,\r\nMy old woman she says to me,\r\n“Feel ye, old man, how the season mellows?”\r\nAnd why should I not, blessed heart alive,\r\nHere mellowing myself, past sixty-five,\r\nTo think o’ the May-time o’ pennoned young fellows\r\nThis stripped old hulk here for years may survive.\r\n\r\nEre yet, long ago, we were spliced, Bonny Blue,\r\n(Silvery it gleams down the moon-glade o’ time,\r\nAh, sugar in the bowl and berries in the prime!)\r\nCoxswain I o’ the Commodore’s crew,—\r\nUnder me the fellows that manned his fine gig,\r\nSpinning him ashore, a king in full fig.\r\nChirrupy even when crosses rubbed me,\r\nBridegroom Dick lieutenants dubbed me.\r\nPleasant at a yarn, Bob o’ Linkum in a song,\r\nDiligent in duty and nattily arrayed,\r\nFavored I was, wife, and _fleeted_ right along;\r\nAnd though but a tot for such a tall grade,\r\nA high quartermaster at last I was made.\r\n\r\nAll this, old lassie, you have heard before,\r\nBut you listen again for the sake e’en o’ me;\r\nNo babble stales o’ the good times o’ yore\r\nTo Joan, if Darby the babbler be.\r\n\r\nBabbler?—O’ what? Addled brains, they forget!\r\nO—quartermaster I; yes, the signals set,\r\nHoisted the ensign, mended it when frayed,\r\nPolished up the binnacle, minded the helm,\r\nAnd prompt every order blithely obeyed.\r\nTo me would the officers say a word cheery—\r\nBreak through the starch o’ the quarter-deck realm;\r\nHis coxswain late, so the Commodore’s pet.\r\nAy, and in night-watches long and weary,\r\nBored nigh to death with the navy etiquette,\r\nYearning, too, for fun, some younker, a cadet,\r\nDropping for time each vain bumptious trick,\r\nBoy-like would unbend to Bridegroom Dick.\r\nBut a limit there was—a check, d’ ye see:\r\nThose fine young aristocrats knew their degree.\r\n\r\nWell, stationed aft where their lordships keep,—\r\nSeldom _going_ forward excepting to sleep,—\r\nI, boozing now on by-gone years,\r\nMy betters recall along with my peers.\r\nRecall them? Wife, but I see them plain:\r\nAlive, alert, every man stirs again.\r\nAy, and again on the lee-side pacing,\r\nMy spy-glass carrying, a truncheon in show,\r\nTurning at the taffrail, my footsteps retracing,\r\nProud in my duty, again methinks I go.\r\nAnd Dave, Dainty Dave, I mark where he stands,\r\nOur trim sailing-master, to time the high-noon,\r\nThat thingumbob sextant perplexing eyes and hands,\r\nSquinting at the sun, or twigging o’ the moon;\r\nThen, touching his cap to Old Chock-a-Block\r\nCommanding the quarter-deck,—“Sir, twelve o’clock.”\r\n\r\nWhere sails he now, that trim sailing-master,\r\nSlender, yes, as the ship’s sky-s’l pole?\r\nDimly I mind me of some sad disaster—\r\nDainty Dave was dropped from the navy-roll!\r\nAnd ah, for old Lieutenant Chock-a-Block—\r\nFast, wife, chock-fast to death’s black dock!\r\nBuffeted about the obstreperous ocean,\r\nFleeted his life, if lagged his promotion.\r\nLittle girl, they are all, all gone, I think,\r\nLeaving Bridegroom Dick here with lids that wink.\r\n\r\nWhere is Ap Catesby? The fights fought of yore\r\nFamed him, and laced him with epaulets, and more.\r\nBut fame is a wake that after-wakes cross,\r\nAnd the waters wallow all, and laugh\r\n          _Where’s the loss?_\r\nBut John Bull’s bullet in his shoulder bearing\r\nBallasted Ap in his long sea-faring.\r\nThe middies they ducked to the man who had messed\r\nWith Decatur in the gun-room, or forward pressed\r\nFighting beside Perry, Hull, Porter, and the rest.\r\n\r\nHumped veteran o’ the Heart-o’-Oak war,\r\nMoored long in haven where the old heroes are,\r\nNever on _you_ did the iron-clads jar!\r\nYour open deck when the boarder assailed,\r\nThe frank old heroic hand-to-hand then availed.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJF3ZZ701ZA41H31WZBPD","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK0QKKW65MKXC1ATXAR43","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:50.514Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:47:52.940Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}