{"id":"01KG8AMET8J18D1KF9C1H6MESN","cid":"bafkreiagh566yeypuf3belep4lj7dhw3hr7tpsofhwmccd2uw57rntlige","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":7734,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":7684,"text":"auction, my tars of Columbia; this will never do. But let’s have\r\nanother bid; now, come,” he added, coaxingly and soothingly. “What is\r\nit? One dollar, one dollar then—one dollar; going at one dollar; going,\r\ngoing—going. Just see how it vibrates”—swinging the boot to and\r\nfro—“this superior pair of sea-boots vibrating at one dollar; wouldn’t\r\npay for the nails in their heels; going, going—gone!” And down went the\r\nboots.\r\n\r\n“Ah, what a sacrifice! what a sacrifice!” he sighed, tearfully eyeing\r\nthe solitary fire-bucket, and then glancing round the company for\r\nsympathy.\r\n\r\n“A sacrifice, indeed!” exclaimed Jack Chase, who stood by; “Purser’s\r\nSteward, you are Mark Antony over the body of Julius Cesar.”\r\n\r\n“So I am, so I am,” said the auctioneer, without moving a muscle. “And\r\nlook!” he exclaimed, suddenly seizing the boot, and exhibiting it on\r\nhigh, “look, my noble tars, if you have tears, prepare to shed them\r\nnow. You all do know this boot. I remember the first time ever old Bob\r\nput it on. ’Twas on a winter evening, off Cape Horn, between the\r\nstarboard carronades—that day his precious grog was stopped. Look! in\r\nthis place a mouse has nibbled through; see what a rent some envious\r\nrat has made, through this another filed, and, as he plucked his cursed\r\nrasp away, mark how the bootleg gaped. This was the unkindest cut of\r\nall. But whose are the boots?” suddenly assuming a business-like air;\r\n“yours? yours? yours?”\r\n\r\nBut not a friend of the lamented Bob stood by.\r\n\r\n“Tars of Columbia,” said the auctioneer, imperatively, “these boots\r\nmust be sold; and if I can’t sell them one way, I must sell them\r\nanother. How much _a pound_, now, for this superior pair of old boots?\r\ngoing by _the pound_ now, remember, my gallant sailors! what shall I\r\nhave? one cent, do I hear? going now at one cent a\r\npound—going—going—going—_gone!_”\r\n\r\n“Whose are they? Yours, Captain of the Waist? Well, my sweet and\r\npleasant friend, I will have them weighed out to you when the auction\r\nis over.”\r\n\r\nIn like manner all the contents of the bags were disposed of, embracing\r\nold frocks, trowsers, and jackets, the various sums for which they went\r\nbeing charged to the bidders on the books of the Purser.\r\n\r\nHaving been present at this auction, though not a purchaser, and seeing\r\nwith what facility the most dismantled old garments went off, through\r\nthe magical cleverness of the accomplished auctioneer, the thought\r\noccurred to me, that if ever I calmly and positively decided to dispose\r\nof my famous white jacket, this would be the very way to do it. I\r\nturned the matter over in my mind a long time.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKVRDZXGM2H1RFF0WHDMX","peer_type":"scene","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMET8ZA7M0Z4RPH3MHNQV","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:37.704Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:49.163Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}