{"id":"01KG8AMH6FDNA4BP18G545YRH7","cid":"bafkreieudjgx6dqlxuh43t3l7kbgrex67wlrx24eh3azx6mrwabzenmnj4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":10270,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":10203,"text":"CHAPTER LXIV.\r\nMAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES.\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen the second cutter pulled about among the ships, dropping the\r\nsurgeons aboard the American men-of-war here and there—as a pilot-boat\r\ndistributes her pilots at the mouth of the harbour—she passed several\r\nforeign frigates, two of which, an Englishman and a Frenchman, had\r\nexcited not a little remark on board the Neversink. These vessels often\r\nloosed their sails and exercised yards simultaneously with ourselves,\r\nas if desirous of comparing the respective efficiency of the crews.\r\n\r\nWhen we were nearly ready for sea, the English frigate, weighing her\r\nanchor, made all sail with the sea-breeze, and began showing off her\r\npaces by gliding about among all the men-of-war in harbour, and\r\nparticularly by running down under the Neversink’s stern. Every time\r\nshe drew near, we complimented her by lowering our ensign a little, and\r\ninvariably she courteously returned the salute. She was inviting us to\r\na sailing-match; and it was rumoured that, when we should leave the\r\nbay, our Captain would have no objections to gratify her; for, be it\r\nknown, the Neversink was accounted the fleetest keeled craft sailing\r\nunder the American long-pennant. Perhaps this was the reason why the\r\nstranger challenged us.\r\n\r\nIt may have been that a portion of our crew were the more anxious to\r\nrace with this frigate, from a little circumstance which a few of them\r\ndeemed rather galling. Not many cables’-length distant from our\r\nCommodore’s cabin lay the frigate President, with the red cross of St.\r\nGeorge flying from her peak. As its name imported, this fine craft was\r\nan American born; but having been captured during the last war with\r\nBritain, she now sailed the salt seas as a trophy.\r\n\r\nThink of it, my gallant countrymen, one and all, down the sea-coast and\r\nalong the endless banks of the Ohio and Columbia—think of the twinges\r\nwe sea-patriots must have felt to behold the live-oak of the Floridas\r\nand the pines of green Maine built into the oaken walls of Old England!\r\nBut, to some of the sailors, there was a counterbalancing thought, as\r\ngrateful as the other was galling, and that was, that somewhere,\r\nsailing under the stars and stripes, was the frigate Macedonian, a\r\nBritish-born craft which had once sported the battle-banner of Britain.\r\n\r\nIt has ever been the custom to spend almost any amount of money in\r\nrepairing a captured vessel, in order that she may long survive to\r\ncommemorate the heroism of the conqueror. Thus, in the English Navy,\r\nthere are many Monsieurs of seventy-fours won from the Gaul. But we\r\nAmericans can show but few similar trophies, though, no doubt, we would\r\nmuch like to be able so to do.\r\n\r\nBut I never have beheld any of thee floating trophies without being\r\nreminded of a scene once witnessed in a pioneer village on the western\r\nbank of the Mississippi. Not far from this village, where the stumps of\r\naboriginal trees yet stand in the market-place, some years ago lived a\r\nportion of the remnant tribes of the Sioux Indians, who frequently\r\nvisited the white settlements to purchase trinkets and cloths.\r\n\r\nOne florid crimson evening in July, when the red-hot sun was going down\r\nin a blaze, and I was leaning against a corner in my huntsman’s frock,\r\nlo! there came stalking out of the crimson West a gigantic red-man,\r\nerect as a pine, with his glittering tomahawk, big as a broad-ax,\r\nfolded in martial repose across his chest, Moodily wrapped in his\r\nblanket, and striding like a king on the stage, he promenaded up and\r\ndown the rustic streets, exhibiting on the back of his blanket a crowd\r\nof human hands, rudely delineated in red; one of them seemed recently\r\ndrawn.\r\n\r\n“Who is this warrior?” asked I; “and why marches he here? and for what\r\nare these bloody hands?”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTJS0S118XNQJ3RCSTWV","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMH69YFK0GGHWR7DF7GH4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:40.143Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:51.315Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}