{"id":"01KG8AKRN187K3S03Y0BYFA2NZ","cid":"bafkreihvtn3f3zljwdfwrxfp33y2xbdklirfwmiafgaavh4yapveapz4am","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":11953,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.846Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":11907,"text":"shark, showed tiers of teeth, _“that,_ ladies, is a\r\nline-of-battle-ship, the North Carolina.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, dear!”—and “Oh my!”—ejaculated the ladies, and— “Lord, save us,”\r\nresponded an old gentleman, who was a member of the Peace Society.\r\n\r\nHurra! hurra! and ten thousand times hurra! down goes our old anchor,\r\nfathoms down into the free and independent Yankee mud, one handful of\r\nwhich was now worth a broad manor in England.\r\n\r\nThe Whitehall boats were around us, and soon, our cabin passengers were\r\nall off, gay as crickets, and bound for a late dinner at the Astor\r\nHouse; where, no doubt, they fired off a salute of champagne corks in\r\nhonor of their own arrival. Only a very few of the steerage passengers,\r\nhowever, could afford to pay the high price the watermen demanded for\r\ncarrying them ashore; so most of them remained with us till morning.\r\nBut nothing could restrain our Italian boy, Carlo, who, promising the\r\nwatermen to pay them with his music, was triumphantly rowed ashore,\r\nseated in the stern of the boat, his organ before him, and something\r\nlike “Hail Columbia!” his tune. We gave him three rapturous cheers, and\r\nwe never saw Carlo again.\r\n\r\nHarry and I passed the greater part of the night walking the deck, and\r\ngazing at the thousand lights of the city.\r\n\r\nAt sunrise, we _warped_ into a berth at the foot of Wall-street, and\r\nknotted our old ship, stem and stern, to the pier. But that knotting of\r\n_her,_ was the unknotting of the bonds of the sailors, among whom, it\r\nis a maxim, that the ship once fast to the wharf, they are free. So\r\nwith a rush and a shout, they bounded ashore, followed by the\r\ntumultuous crowd of emigrants, whose friends, day-laborers and\r\nhousemaids, stood ready to embrace them.\r\n\r\nBut in silent gratitude at the end of a voyage, almost equally\r\nuncongenial to both of us, and so bitter to one, Harry and I sat on a\r\nchest in the forecastle. And now, the ship that we had loathed, grew\r\nlovely in our eyes, which lingered over every familiar old timber; for\r\nthe scene of suffering is a scene of joy when the suffering is past;\r\nand the silent reminiscence of hardships departed, is sweeter than the\r\npresence of delight.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER LXI.\r\nREDBURN AND HARRY, ARM IN ARM, IN HARBOR\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTVYBDRAFPDM9FWY5EY5","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKRN1ZK3AJ07Z8Y50Y5XK","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.009Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:35.493Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}