{"id":"01KG8AKM4QKV111TRTZNTPVZYM","cid":"bafkreic7h5dmpolwevfvy2b3iubuj7cgtsl3isqx427bhntp33mngsuyyi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5150,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:05.591Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","start_line":5076,"text":"CHAPTER XVIII.\r\nTHE EXPEDITION THAT SAILED FROM GROIX.\r\n\r\n\r\nThree months after anchoring at Brest, through Dr. Franklin’s\r\nnegotiations with the French king, backed by the bestirring ardor of\r\nPaul, a squadron of nine vessels, of various force, were ready in the\r\nroad of Groix for another descent on the British coasts. These craft\r\nwere miscellaneously picked up, their crews a mongrel pack, the\r\nofficers mostly French, unacquainted with each other, and secretly\r\njealous of Paul. The expedition was full of the elements of\r\ninsubordination and failure. Much bitterness and agony resulted to a\r\nspirit like Paul’s. But he bore up, and though in many particulars the\r\nsequel more than warranted his misgivings, his soul still refused to\r\nsurrender.\r\n\r\nThe career of this stubborn adventurer signally illustrates the idea\r\nthat since all human affairs are subject to organic disorder, since\r\nthey are created in and sustained by a sort of half-disciplined chaos,\r\nhence he who in great things seeks success must never wait for smooth\r\nwater, which never was and never will be, but, with what straggling\r\nmethod he can, dash with all his derangements at his object, leaving\r\nthe rest to Fortune.\r\n\r\nThough nominally commander of the squadron, Paul was not so in effect.\r\nMost of his captains conceitedly claimed independent commands. One of\r\nthem in the end proved a traitor outright; few of the rest were\r\nreliable.\r\n\r\nAs for the ships, that commanded by Paul in person will be a good\r\nexample of the fleet. She was an old Indiaman, clumsy and crank,\r\nsmelling strongly of the savor of tea, cloves, and arrack, the cargoes\r\nof former voyages. Even at that day she was, from her venerable\r\ngrotesqueness, what a cocked hat is, at the present age, among ordinary\r\nbeavers. Her elephantine bulk was houdahed with a castellated poop like\r\nthe leaning tower of Pisa. Poor Israel, standing on the top of this\r\npoop, spy-glass at his eye, looked more an astronomer than a mariner,\r\nhaving to do, not with the mountains of the billows, but the mountains\r\nin the moon. Galileo on Fiesole. She was originally a single-decked\r\nship, that is, carried her armament on one gun-deck; but cutting ports\r\nbelow, in her after part, Paul rammed out there six old\r\neighteen-pounders, whose rusty muzzles peered just above the\r\nwater-line, like a parcel of dirty mulattoes from a cellar-way. Her\r\nname was the Duras, but, ere sailing, it was changed to that other\r\nappellation, whereby this sad old hulk became afterwards immortal.\r\nThough it is not unknown, that a compliment to Doctor Franklin was\r\ninvolved in this change of titles, yet the secret history of the affair\r\nwill now for the first time be disclosed.\r\n\r\nIt was evening in the road of Groix. After a fagging day’s work, trying\r\nto conciliate the hostile jealousy of his officers, and provide, in the\r\nface of endless obstacles (for he had to dance attendance on scores of\r\nintriguing factors and brokers ashore), the requisite stores for the\r\nfleet, Paul sat in his cabin in a half-despondent reverie, while\r\nIsrael, cross-legged at his commander’s feet, was patching up some old\r\nsignals.\r\n\r\n“Captain Paul, I don’t like our ship’s name.—Duras? What’s that\r\nmean?—Duras? Being cribbed up in a ship named Duras! a sort of makes\r\none feel as if he were in durance vile.”\r\n\r\n“Gad, I never thought of that before, my lion. Duras—Durance vile. I\r\nsuppose it’s superstition, but I’ll change Come, Yellow-mane, what\r\nshall we call her?”\r\n\r\n“Well, Captain Paul, don’t you like Doctor Franklin? Hasn’t he been the\r\nprime man to get this fleet together? Let’s call her the Doctor\r\nFranklin.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, no, that will too publicly declare him just at present; and Poor\r\nRichard wants to be a little shady in this business.”\r\n\r\n“Poor Richard!—call her Poor Richard, then,” cried Israel, suddenly\r\nstruck by the idea.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJJRQ70FGB5WT6Z54FG38","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKM4PC3FH61MVHAQJ7BVW","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:10.391Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:16.721Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}