{"id":"01KG8AMET5Q995A86A24NPR2QF","cid":"bafkreiacnm3hbhjqaig3lh4fysncyns4edbca6pvpemuoqyowa6j5yvkc4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7836,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":7755,"text":"In due time all hands were again summoned round the main-mast; the\r\nPurser’s steward mounted his post, and the ceremony began. Meantime, I\r\nlingered out of sight, but still within hearing, on the gun-deck below,\r\ngazing up, un-perceived, at the scene.\r\n\r\nAs it is now so long ago, I will here frankly make confession that I\r\nhad privately retained the services of a friend—Williams, the Yankee\r\npedagogue and peddler—whose business it would be to linger near the\r\nscene of the auction, and, if the bids on the jacket loitered, to start\r\nit roundly himself; and if the bidding then became brisk, he was\r\ncontinually to strike in with the most pertinacious and infatuated\r\nbids, and so exasperate competition into the maddest and most\r\nextravagant overtures.\r\n\r\nA variety of other articles having been put up, the white jacket was\r\nslowly produced, and, held high aloft between the auctioneer’s thumb\r\nand fore-finger, was submitted to the inspection of the discriminating\r\npublic.\r\n\r\nHere it behooves me once again to describe my jacket; for, as a\r\nportrait taken at one period of life will not answer for a later stage;\r\nmuch more this jacket of mine, undergoing so many changes, needs to be\r\npainted again and again, in order truly to present its actual\r\nappearance at any given period.\r\n\r\nA premature old age had now settled upon it; all over it bore\r\nmelancholy sears of the masoned-up pockets that had once trenched it in\r\nvarious directions. Some parts of it were slightly mildewed from\r\ndampness; on one side several of the buttons were gone, and others were\r\nbroken or cracked; while, alas! my many mad endeavours to rub it black\r\non the decks had now imparted to the whole garment an exceedingly\r\nuntidy appearance. Such as it was, with all its faults, the auctioneer\r\ndisplayed it.\r\n\r\n“You, venerable sheet-anchor-men! and you, gallant fore-top-men! and\r\nyou, my fine waisters! what do you say now for this superior old\r\njacket? Buttons and sleeves, lining and skirts, it must this day be\r\nsold without reservation. How much for it, my gallant tars of Columbia?\r\nsay the word, and how much?”\r\n\r\n“My eyes!” exclaimed a fore-top-man, “don’t that ’ere bunch of old\r\nswabs belong to Jack Chase’s pet? Aren’t that _the white jacket?_”\r\n\r\n“_The white jacket!_” cried fifty voices in response; “_the white\r\njacket!_” The cry ran fore and aft the ship like a slogan, completely\r\noverwhelming the solitary voice of my private friend Williams, while\r\nall hands gazed at it with straining eyes, wondering how it came among\r\nthe bags of deceased mariners.\r\n\r\n“Ay, noble tars,” said the auctioneer, “you may well stare at it; you\r\nwill not find another jacket like this on either side of Cape Horn, I\r\nassure you. Why, just look at it! How much, now? _Give_ me a bid—but\r\ndon’t be rash; be prudent, be prudent, men; remember your Purser’s\r\naccounts, and don’t be betrayed into extravagant bids.”\r\n\r\n“Purser’s Steward!” cried Grummet, one of the quarter-gunners, slowly\r\nshifting his quid from one cheek to the other, like a ballast-stone, “I\r\nwon’t bid on that ’ere bunch of old swabs, unless you put up ten pounds\r\nof soap with it.”\r\n\r\n“Don’t mind that old fellow,” said the auctioneer. “How much for the\r\njacket, my noble tars?”\r\n\r\n“Jacket;” cried a dandy _bone polisher_ of the gun-room. “The\r\nsail-maker was the tailor, then. How many fathoms of canvas in it,\r\nPurser’s Steward?”\r\n\r\n“How much for this _jacket_?” reiterated the auctioneer, emphatically.\r\n\r\n“_Jacket_, do you call it!” cried a captain of the hold.\r\n\r\n“Why not call it a white-washed man-of-war schooner? Look at the\r\nport-holes, to let in the air of cold nights.”\r\n\r\n“A reg’lar herring-net,” chimed in Grummet.\r\n\r\n“Gives me the _fever nagur_ to look at it,” echoed a mizzen-top-man.\r\n\r\n“Silence!” cried the auctioneer. “Start it now—start it, boys; anything\r\nyou please, my fine fellows! it _must_ be sold. Come, what ought I to\r\nhave on it, now?”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKVRDM5VNYXA6GEWTX1KJ","peer_type":"scene","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMETC88HQ44K27AB94EZZ","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:37.701Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:49.146Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}