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Archaeology and the Social History of Ships 2nd Edition
Richard A. Gould Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Richard A. Gould
ISBN(s): 9780521194921, 052119492X
Edition: 2
File Details: PDF, 4.84 MB
Year: 2011
Language: english
This page intentionally left blank
 ARCHAEOLOGY and the SOCIAL HISTORY of SHIPS
2nd Edition
G J 

Maritime archaeology deals with shipwrecks and is carried out by divers

rather than diggers. It embraces maritime history; analyzes changes in
shipbuilding, navigation, and seamanship; and offers fresh perspectives
on the cultures and societies that produced the ships and sailors. Draw-
ing on detailed past and recent case studies, Richard A. Gould provides
an up-to-date review of the field that includes dramatic new findings
arising from improved undersea technologies.
This second edition of Archaeology and the Social History of Ships
has been updated throughout to reflect new findings and new inter-
pretations of old sites. The new edition explores advances in undersea
technology in archaeology, especially remotely operated vehicles. The
book reviews many of the major recent shipwreck findings, including
the Vasa in Stockholm, the Viking wrecks at Roskilde Fjord, and the
Titanic.

Richard A. Gould is emeritus professor of anthropology at Brown

University. In addition to writing articles for numerous journals, includ-
ing American Antiquity and The International Journal of Nautical
Archaeology, he has contributed to several edited volumes, among
them Encyclopedia of Underwater and Maritime Archaeology and The
Oxford Companion to Archaeology. He is the author or editor of
12 books, including Disaster Archaeology, Recovering the Past, Ship-
wreck Anthropology, and Living Archaeology.
 ARCHAEOLOGY
and the
SOCIAL HISTORY
of SHIPS

G J
2nd edition

Richard A. Gould
brown university
 cambridge university press
Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town,
Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Tokyo, Mexico City
Cambridge University Press
32 Avenue of the Americas, New York, ny 10013–2473, usa
www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521125628


C Richard A. Gould 2011

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.

First published 2000

Second edition 2011

Printed in the United States of America

A catalog record for this publication is available from the British Library.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication data

Gould, Richard A.
Archaeology and the social history of ships / Richard A. Gould. – 2nd ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
isbn 978-0-521-19492-1 (hardback) –
isbn 978-0-521-12562-8 (paperback)
1. Underwater archaeology. 2. Shipwrecks. 3. Ships – History.
4. Ocean and civilization. I. Title.
cc77.u5g68 2011
930.1028 04–dc22 2010051113

isbn 978-0-521-19492-1 Hardback

isbn 978-0-521-12562-8 Paperback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or

accuracy of urls for external or third-party Internet Web sites referred to
in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Web
sites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
 contents

List of figures page vii

List of tables xiii
Acknowledgments xv

Introduction: Toward a higher standard 1

1. Interpreting the underwater archaeological record 9
2. Underwater archaeology: The state of the art 25
3. Ships and shipwrecks: Basic mechanics 63
4. The archaeology of small watercraft 91
5. The earliest ships 121
6. Shipwrecks and our understanding of ancient trade 151
7. Sailing ships of the Middle Ages 171
8. Ships of the great age of sail 209
9. From sail to steam in maritime commerce 248
10. New technologies and naval warfare 281
11. The archaeology of maritime infrastructure 319
12. The future of shipwreck archaeology 336

References cited 357

General index 379
Ship and site index 385
 figures

1. Top, unmodified T-2 tanker leaving Boston Harbor, 1957.

Bottom, generalized view of “jumboized” version of a T-2,
similar to the Marine Electric. page 5
2. Above- and below-water views of the ram-bow on the
wreck of HMS Vixen. 22
3. Removal of engine of SS Xantho from its conservation tank
at the Western Australian Maritime Museum, Fremantle. 32
4. Aerial view of Fort Jefferson, Dry Tortugas National Park,
Florida. 35
5. Contemporary print depicting the loss of the USS Monitor
off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, on 31 December 1862. 41
6. Magnetic contour map of Monitor wreck. 43
7. Side-scan sonar image of Monitor wreck. 45
8. Artist’s depiction of underwater electronic grid at Monitor
site. 47
9. Trilateration plan of USS Arizona wreck, Pearl Harbor,
Hawaii. 52
10. Aerial view of the Bird Key Wreck (arrow) in relation to
Fort Jefferson, Dry Tortugas National Park, Florida. 56
11. Four-bladed propeller on the Bird Key Wreck. 56
12. Trilateration plan of the Bird Key Wreck. 57
13. Top, “knees from trees.” Drawing from an 18th-century
French shipbuilding manual. Bottom, hanging knees inside
hull of three-masted schooner C.A. Thayer, National
 viii r Figures
Maritime Museum, Golden Gate Recreation Area, San
Francisco. 66
14. Bow-on view of composite clipper ship Cutty Sark in
Greenwich, England. 67
15. Hogging and sagging. 71
16. Stable and unstable hull conditions. 74
17. Irwin’s (1992) upwind strategy for voyages of discovery
and colonization by the ancestors of the Polynesians. 79
18. Trilateration plan of the Barrel Wreck site, Loggerhead
Reef, Dry Tortugas National Park,
Florida. 85
19. Plan of ship’s timbers and photograph of cement barrel
casts at Barrel Wreck site, Loggerhead Reef, Dry Tortugas
National Park, Florida. 86
20. Haida dugout canoe from British Columbia, at the
American Museum of Natural History, New York. 99
21. A Tolowa Indian making modifications to a traditional
Northwest California dugout canoe at Crescent City,
California, in 1963. 100
22. Fijian outrigger canoe under sail at Ono-I-Lau in 1991,
compared with a Fijian double-hulled voyaging canoe
(1918) at the Suva Museum, Fiji. 101
23. Diagram of sewn-plank joinery of Ferriby 1. 104
24. Double-hull voyaging canoe replica Hokule’a shortly after
its launch in 1975 at Kaneohe Bay, Oahu. 107
25. Rock engraving of outrigger canoe at Anaehoomalu,
Hawaii. 107
26. Generalized diagram of clinker construction, shown in
cross section and expanded views. 113
27. Exploded view of Greco–Roman mortise-and-tenon
joinery of hull planks. 119
28. The Khufu ship on display at Giza. 123
29. Cross section of the hull of the Khufu ship, showing the
complex arrangement of lashings and battens used to join
the planks. 125
30. Model of Egyptian sailing craft showing hogging truss,
steering oars, and characteristic use of a yard at the top
and a boom at the bottom of the sail. 127
 Figures r ix
31. Copper ox-hide ingot No. 33 from the Late Bronze Age
shipwreck at Cape Gelidonya, Turkey. 129
32. Generalized model of a Roman merchant ship. 145
33. Schematic model of the kula exchange system. 165
34. Prehistoric stone ship setting, Åland Islands, Finland. 179
35. Sailing ship of Viking tradition shown on the Bayeux
Tapestry (a.d. 1066). 180
36. Sailing replica of Viking warship at Viipuri (Vyborg),
Russia. 183
37. Depictions of Baltic cogs on the walls of a 13th-century
church at Finström, Åland Islands, Finland. 187
38. Modern sailing junk, Hong Kong, and small oared sampan
near Shanghai, China. 199
39. Sailing replica of the Matthew, a nao-like vessel used by
John Cabot in his 1497 voyage to North America. 211
40. Sailing replica of the commercial galleon Susan Constant
at Jamestown, Virginia. 217
41. Sketch of a verso-type swivel gun from the Molasses Reef
wreck, Caicos, and photograph of a pair of encrusted
swivel guns from the “Spanish Wreck,” Loggerhead Key,
Dry Tortugas National Park, Florida. 219
42. Upper deck of Swedish warship Vasa, showing excellent
preservation of the wooden structure. 237
43. Lower gunports of the Vasa with the gunport lids in the
raised and open position. 238
44. Stern section of the 17th-century Dutch East India
Company armed merchantman Batavia on display at the
Western Australian Maritime Museum, Fremantle, after
excavation and conservation. 242
45. Model of the Batavia showing shell-first construction
techniques. 243
46. Monumental gate reassembled from shaped stones from
the wreck of the Batavia. 244
47. Wreck of the County of Roxborough on Takaroa Atoll in
the Tuamotu Islands, French Polynesia. 253
48. Trilateration plan of the Killean wreck, Loggerhead Reef,
Dry Tortugas National Park, Florida. 255
49. Bow area of the Killean. 257
 x r Figures
50. Interior of the County of Roxborough. 258
51. Pressure vessel from the Killean. 259
52. Stern section of the North Carolina wreck, Bermuda,
showing (a) the intact tiller and (b) rudder. 266
53. Passageway within the wreck of the Yongala, inside the
Great Barrier Reef, Queensland, Australia. 269
54. A contemporary watercolor showing the loss of the Mary
Celestia, Bermuda. 273
55. Box boiler of the Mary Celestia. 274
56. Feathering paddle wheel at the wreck of the Mary Celestia. 275
57. Early depiction of the world’s first true ironclad warship,
the Gloire. 285
58. HMS Warrior undergoing restoration in 1986 in
Hartlepool, England. 286
59. Fleet of Russian turreted ironclads at the South Harbor,
Helsinki, Finland, sometime during the late
1860s. 288
60. A contemporary drawing of the Merrimac ramming and
sinking the Cumberland. 290
61. Plan and elevation drawings of the Monitor wreck. 292
62. Interior of one of the Coles turrets aboard the HMVS
Cerberus wreck showing the two 18-ton rifled
muzzle-loading guns. 296
63. Trilateration plan of wreck of the HMS Vixen, Bermuda. 300
64. Elevation drawing of the Vixen, showing how the ship
broke and settled into the Chubb Cut Channel after being
scuttled in 1896. 301
65. Hypothetical ramming encounter at sea between the Vixen
and the Warrior. 303
66. Manually operated capstan on the foredeck of the Vixen. 304
67. (a) Aerial view of the USS Utah following conversion to a
radio-controlled target ship. (b) Detail showing installation
of antiaircraft guns aboard the Utah shortly before the
Pearl Harbor attack. 314
68. Above-water view of the wreck of the Utah. 315
69. Plan drawing and elevation of the Utah wreck. 316
70. Scale drawing of the Floating Dock, Bermuda. 328
 Figures r xi
71. Contemporary engineering drawings showing the Floating
Dock in cross section with various chambers filled and
emptied for raising, lowering, and careening it. 328
72. Contemporary drawing of the launch of the Floating Dock. 329
73. Trilateration plan of the Floating Dock and its caissons. 333
74. Treasure-hunter Mel Fisher’s boat and his stern-mounted
“mailboxes” (blasters) at Key West, Florida. 338
 tables

1. A t-test comparison of Pensacola bricks from Fort Jefferson

with unmarked bricks from the Bird Key Wreck, Dry
Tortugas National Park, Florida. page 55
2. Nearest-neighbor ranking of cement barrel fileds at Barrel
Wreck site, Dry Tortugas National Park, Florida. 59
3. Dimensions and specifications of the Killean. 251
 acknowledgments

As a relative newcomer to the field of underwater archaeology, I bene-

fited more than usual from the help and advice of friends and colleagues
as I labored on this book. Sometimes the learning experience was exhil-
arating; at other times it was humbling. Researching and writing this
book was a voyage of sorts. First I had to get my “sea legs” and
acclimate myself to previously unfamiliar surroundings. In my previ-
ous academic existence I was a prehistorian and ethnoarchaeologist. I
had never been a sport diver, and, indeed, the idea of becoming one
had never crossed my mind until I met Keith Muckelroy in Cambridge
in 1977. We were both writing books for Cambridge University Press
then and shared the same editor, so we wound up conversing in the
waiting room (and later in the pub) more than once. It was Keith, more
than anyone else, who planted the idea in my mind that underwater
archaeology had scholarly legitimacy beyond the arcane details of nau-
tical history and technology. As a student of David Clarke, a pioneer in
England of analytical and anthropological approaches to archaeology,
Keith’s point of view was clear and understandable. His book Maritime
Archaeology (1978) led the way in this direction for underwater archae-
ology. Thirty years later, Keith’s intellectual influence on my book will
be apparent to anyone familiar with his earlier work, although a lot has
happened since then. So I want to lead off my acknowledgments with a
special nod to Keith’s memory for the stimulation and encouragement
he provided at the beginning of this voyage.
Several institutions have aided and supported the efforts leading to
this book. Special thanks go to both the Western Australian Museum
 xvi r Acknowledgments
in Perth and the Western Australian Maritime Museum in Fremantle.
In Perth, Charlie Dortch introduced me to submerged terrestrial-site
archaeology in Australia. Our dives together at Lake Jasper imparted a
sense of reality to this kind of underwater archaeology that no amount
of perusal of the literature could ever convey. Graeme Henderson,
Jeremy Green, and Mike McCarthy were unstinting in their advice
and support and communicated a sense of direction and purpose for
their discipline that is not always found in other institutions. This
same sense of purpose was echoed by Ian MacLeod, Myra Stanbury,
Corioli Souter, Patrick Baker (whose “photo tips” were invaluable),
and everyone else on the staff of the Western Australian Maritime
Museum. I also wish to thank Mark Staniforth at Flinders University,
Adelaide, South Australia, for introducing me to the ships’ graveyard
near Port Adelaide and to some of the finer points in ship reuse and
discard. The work done by Brian Gohacki, then a graduate student
of anthropology at Brown University, on the wreck of the Omeo near
Fremantle deserves special mention for alerting me to how much ships
can change during their use-lives.
Special thanks go, too, to the Submerged Cultural Resources Unit
of the National Park Service (now renamed the Submerged Resources
Unit). Dan Lenihan and Larry Murphy, in particular, coached me in
the skills of underwater-site recording and imparted a high level of
professionalism while doing so. It was always a pleasure as well as a
learning experience to work with their teams in places like Cape Cod,
Massachusetts, and the Dry Tortugas, Florida. Their level of support
for our research in the Dry Tortugas from 1989 through 1995 deserves
special mention. More recently, critical advice and comments by David
Conlin, current chief of the unit, and Matt Russell have helped me
appreciate the recent work on the CSS Hunley and other underwater
activities of the National Park Service. I wish to note especially the
memory of Brenda Lanzendorf, maritime archaeologist for the National
Park Service at Biscayne National Park, Florida, for introducing me to
the wrecks there and for showing me new ways to connect scholarship
and public service.
I also wish to express my gratitude for the generous advice and
support of the Bermuda Maritime Museum (BMM), especially from
Edward Harris, director. Special thanks go, too, to the memory of Jack
Arnell, Rowan Sturdy, and Douglas Little at the BMM as well as to
 Acknowledgments r xvii
Eugene T. Rowe, one of our most dedicated volunteers in Bermuda and
the Dry Tortugas. Other outstanding volunteers included William May,
Nan Godet, Donna Souza, Steve Lubkemann, and Rebecca Upton.
None of our work in Bermuda from 1987 to 2000 would have been
possible without the generous support of Earthwatch and the splendid
volunteers they recruited for our field projects. On the subject of dedi-
cated volunteers, special mention should also be made of the Maritime
Archaeology and Historical Society (MAHS) of the Washington, D.C.,
area and the Bermuda Sub-Aqua Club.
Several visits to Texas A&M’s Institute of Nautical Archaeology
(INA) and Department of Anthropology conveyed fresh ideas to me
about both the conduct and the substance of maritime archaeology.
Special thanks go to Donny Hamilton, George Bass, Kevin Crisman,
Luis Felipe Vieira de Castro, and the late J. Richard Steffy who encour-
aged me on these occasions. Visits to East Carolina University and dis-
cussions with Nathan Richards there produced similarly useful insights.
My visits to the Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark, and to
the Vasa Museum in Stockholm, along with conversations with Carl
Olof Cederlund during a conference in Fremantle, helped me focus on
current issues in Baltic maritime archaeology. Others who have helped
with their advice and suggestions include Rodger Smith, Ben Finney,
Daniel Martinez, James Delgado, Stuart Frank, Ray Sutcliffe, Fred
Lipke, Patrick Malone, Jim Smailes, Iain Stuart, Christian Ahlström,
Fred Walker, James Bellingham, Peter Veth, Philip N. Thomas, and
David Lyon. I take full responsibility, however, for the statements and
conclusions presented in this book. Also, unless specifically stated oth-
erwise, all photographs used in this book were taken by me.
Finally, profuse thanks go to my wife, Elizabeth Gould, for her edi-
torial expertise and professional attention to detail on the final version
of the manuscript. Bravo!
Richard A. Gould
Professor Emeritus of Anthropology
Brown University
Providence, Rhode Island
Other documents randomly have
different content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Blood Will
Tell: The Strange Story of a Son of Ham
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Blood Will Tell: The Strange Story of a Son of Ham

Author: Benjamin Rush Davenport

Illustrator: J. H. Donahey

Release date: May 5, 2020 [eBook #62033]

Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team

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made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLOOD WILL

TELL: THE STRANGE STORY OF A SON OF HAM ***
 Transcriber’s Note: The reader may wish to be warned that
this book contains racial stereotyping more than usually
unpleasant even by the standards of its time. Read as far as the
Dedication and use that to decide whether or not you want to
continue.
“The brutalized features of Walter Burton were revealed.”

Frontispiece
BLOOD WILL TELL
THE STRANGE STORY OF
A SON OF HAM
 BY
BENJ. RUSH DAVENPORT
AUTHOR OF
Blue and Gray, Uncle Sam’s Cabins,
Anglo-Saxons, Onward, Etc.

Illustrations
by
J.H. Donahey

CLEVELAND
Caxton Book Co.
1902

Copyright
by
Benj. Rush Davenport
1902

All rights reserved

 DEDICATION
To all Americans who deem purity of race an
all-important element in the progress of our
beloved country.
THE AUTHOR
For obvious reasons the date of this story is
not given ...
 List of Illustrations
“The brutalized features of Walter Burton were
revealed. Frontispiece
“Lucy passed her soft, white arm around her
grandfather’s neck.” Page 108
“He recklessly rushed in front of Burton.” Page 286
“Lucy, I have always loved you.” Page 340

BLOOD WILL TELL

 I.
Boston was shrouded in a mantle of mist that November day, the
north-east wind bringing at each blast re-enforcement to the all-
enveloping and obscuring mass of gloom that embraced the city in
its arms of darkness.
Glimmering like toy candles in the distance, electric lights, making
halos of the fog, marked a pathway for the hurrying crowds that
poured along the narrow, crooked streets of New England’s grand
old city. In one of the oldest, narrowest and most crooked
thoroughfares down near the wharfs a light burning within the
window of an old-fashioned building brought to sight the name “J.
Dunlap” and the words “Shipping and Banking.”
No living man in Boston nor the father of any man in Boston had
ever known a day when passing that old house the sign had not
been there for him to gaze upon and lead him to wonder if the
Dunlap line would last unbroken forever.
In early days of the Republic some Dunlap had in a small way
traded with the West Indian islands, especially Haiti, and later some
descendant of this old trade pathfinder had established a regular line
of sailing ships between Boston and those islands. Then it was that
the sign “J. Dunlap, Shipping and Banking” made its appearance on
the front of the old house. A maxim of the Dunlap family had been
that there must always be a J. Dunlap, hence sons were ever
christened John, James, Josiah and such names only as furnished
the everlasting J as the initial.
“J. Dunlap” had grown financially and commercially in proportion
to the growth of the Republic. There was not room on a single line in
the Commercial Agency books to put A’s enough to express the
credit and financial resources of “J. Dunlap” on this dark November
day. Absolutely beyond the shoals and shallows of the dangerous
shore of trade where small crafts financially are forced to ply, “J.
Dunlap” sailed ever tranquil and serene, neither jars nor shocks
disturbing the calm serenity of the voyage.
This dismal November day marked an unparalleled experience in
the career of the present “J. Dunlap.” The customary calm was
disturbed. J. Dunlap disagreed and disagreed positively with J.
Dunlap concerning an important event, and that event was a family
affair.
The exterior of “J. Dunlap” may be dark, grimy, dingy and old, but
within all is bright with electric light. Behind glass and wire screens
long lines of clerks and accountants bend over desks and busy pens
move across the pages of huge ledgers and account books—
messengers hurry in and out of two glass partitioned offices. On the
door of one is painted “Mr. Burton, Manager;” on the other “Mr.
Chapman, Superintendent.”
Separated by a narrow passageway from the main office is a large
room, high ceiling, old-fashioned, furnished with leather and
mahogany fittings of ancient make, on the door of which are the
words, “J. Dunlap, Private Office.” This is the sanctum sanctorum in
this temple of trade. Within “J. Dunlap’s” private office before a large
grate heaped high with blazing cannel coal two old men are seated
in earnest conversation. They are “J. Dunlap.”
Seventy-two years before this November day that enfolded Boston
with London-like fog there were born to one J. Dunlap and his wife
twin boys to whom were given in due season the names of James
and John. These boys had grown to manhood preserving the same
likeness to each other that they had possessed as infants in the
cradle. James married early and when his son was born and was
promptly made a J. Dunlap, his twin brother vowed that there being
a J. Dunlap to secure the perpetuation of the name, he should never
marry.
 When the J. Dunlap, father of the twin brothers, died, the twins
succeeded to the business as well as the other property of their
father, share and share alike. To change the name on the office
window to Dunlap Bros. was never even dreamed of; such sacrilege
would surely have caused the rising in wrath of the long line of
ghostly “J. Dunlaps” that had preceded the twins. Hence on this dark
day “J. Dunlap” was two instead of one.
Handsome men were all the Dunlaps time out of mind, but no
ancestor was ever more handsome than the two clean cut, stalwart,
white haired old men who with eager gestures and earnest voices
discussed the point of difference between them today.
“My dear brother,” said the one whose face bore traces of a more
burning sun than warms the Berkshire hills, “You know that we have
never differed even in trivial matters, and James, it is awful to think
of anything that could even be called a disagreement, but I loved
your poor boy John as much as I have ever loved you and when he
died his motherless little girl became more to me than even you,
James, and it hurts my heart to think of my darling Lucy being
within possible reach of sorrow and shame.” The fairer one of the
brothers bent over and grasping with both hands the raised hand of
him who had spoken said with an emotion that filled his eyes with
moisture:
“God bless you, John! You dear old fellow! I know that that loving
heart of yours held my poor boy as near to it as did my own, and
that Lucy has ever been the dearest jewel of your great soul, but
your love and tenderness are now conjuring up imaginary dangers
that are simply beyond a possibility of existence. While I will not go
so far as to admit that had I known that there was a trace of negro
blood in Burton I should have forbidden his paying court to my
granddaughter, still I will confess that I should have considered that
fact and consulted with you before consenting to his seeking Lucy’s
hand. However, it is too late now, John. He has won our girl’s heart
and knowing her as you do you must appreciate the consequences
of the disclosure of this discovery and the abrupt termination of her
blissful anticipations. It is not only a question of the health and
happiness of our dear girl, but her very life would be placed in
jeopardy.”
This seemed an unexpected or unrealized phase of the situation to
the first speaker, for he made no reply at once but sat with troubled
brow gazing into the fire for several minutes, then with a sigh so
deep that it was almost a groan, exclaimed:
“Oh! that I had known sooner! I am an old fool! I might have
suspected this and investigated Burton’s family. John Dunlap, d——n
you for the old idiot that you are,” and rising he began pacing the
floor; his brother watched him with eyes of tender, almost womanly
affection until a suspicious moisture dimmed the sight of his worried
second self. Going to him and taking him by the arm he joined him
in his walk back and forth through the room, saying:
“John, don’t worry yourself so much old chap, there is nothing to
fear; what if there be a slight strain of negro blood in Burton? It will
disappear in his descendants and even did Lucy know all that you
have learned, she loves him and would marry him anyhow. You
know her heart and her high sense of justice. She would not blame
him and really it is no fault of his.”
“You say,” broke in his brother, “that the negro blood will
disappear in Burton’s descendants? That is just what may not
happen! Both in the United States and Haiti I have seen cases of
breeding back to the type of a remote ancestor where negro blood,
no matter how little, ran in the veins of the immediate ancestor. In
the animal kingdom see the remoteness of the five toed horse, yet
even now sometimes a horse is born with five toes. Man is but an
animal of the highest grade.”
“Well, even granting what you say about the remote possibility of
breeding back, you know that our ancestors years ago stood
shoulder to shoulder with Garrison, Beecher and those grand heroes
who maintained that the enslavement of the negro was a crime, and
that the color of the skin made no difference—that all men were
brothers and equal.”
“Yes, I know and agree with our forefathers in all of that,”
exclaimed the sun burned J. Dunlap with some show of impatience.
“But while slavery was all wrong and equality before the law is
absolutely right, still I have seen both in this country and in the West
Indies such strange evidence of the inherent barbarism in the negro
race that I am almost ready to paraphrase a saying of Napoleon and
declare, ‘Scratch one with negro blood in him and you find a
barbarian.’”
“Your long residence in disorderly Haiti, where your health and our
interest kept you has evidently prejudiced you,” replied the fair J.
Dunlap. “Remember that for generations our family has extended
the hospitality of our homes to those of negro blood provided they
were educated, cultured people.”
“Yes, James, Yes! Provided they had the culture and education
created by the white man, and to be frank between ourselves,
James, there has been much affectation about the obliteration of
race distinction even in the case of our own family, and you know it!
We Dunlaps have made much of our apparent liberality and
consistency, but in our hearts we are as much race-proud Aryans as
those ancestors who drove the race-inferior Turanians out of
Europe.”
James Dunlap was as honest as his more impetuous brother.
Suddenly stopping and confronting him with agitated countenance,
he said: “You are right, John, in what you say about our affecting
social equality with those of negro blood. God knows had I been
aware of the facts that you have hastened from Port au Prince to lay
before me all might have been different; our accursed affectation
may have misled Burton, who is an honorable gentleman, no matter
if his mother was a quadroon. Social equality may be all right, but
where it leads to the intermarriage of the races all the Aryan in me
protests against it, but it is too late and we must trust to Divine
Providence to correct the consequences of the Dunlap’s accursed
affectation.”
“I expected Lucy to marry Jack Dunlap, the son of our cousin;
then the old sign might have answered for another hundred years.
Lucy and Jack were fond of each other always, and I thought when
two years ago I left Boston for Haiti that the match was quite a
settled affair. Why did you not foster a marriage that would have
been so satisfactory from every standpoint?”
“I did hope that Lucy would marry your namesake, dear brother;
don’t blame me; while I believe that the boy was really fond of my
granddaughter, still, being poor, and having the Dunlap pride he
positively declined the position in our office that I offered him. I
wished to keep him near Lucy and to prepare him to succeed us as
‘J. Dunlap.’ When I made the offer he said in that frank, manly, sailor
man fashion of his that he was worthless in an office and he wished
no sinecure by reason of being our kinsman; that he was a sailor by
nature and loved the sea; that he wished to make his own way in
the world; that if we could fairly advance him in his profession he
would thank us, but that was all that he could accept at our hands.”
“See that now!” exclaimed the listener. “Blood will tell. The blood
of some old Yankee sailor man named Dunlap spoke when our
young kinsman made that reply. Breed back! Yes indeed we do.”
“No persuasion could move the boy from the position he had
taken and as he held a master’s certificate and had proven a careful
mate I gave him command of our ship ‘Lucy’ in the China trade. I
imagine there was some exhibition of feeling at the parting of Lucy
and John, as my girl seemed much depressed in spirits after he left.
“You recall how Walter Burton came to us fifteen years ago with a
letter from his father, our correspondent in Port au Prince, saying
that he wished his son to enter Harvard and asking us to befriend
him. The lad was handsome and clever and we never dreamed of his
being other than of pure blood. He was graduated at the head of his
class, brilliant, amiable, fascinating. Our house was made bright by
his frequent visits.
“When his father died, leaving his great wealth to Walter, he
begged to invest it with us, and liking the lad we were glad to have
him with us. Beginning at the bottom, by sheer force of ability and
industry, within ten years he has become our manager. I am sure
John Dunlap, your namesake, never told Lucy that he loved her
before he sailed for China. The pride of the man would hold back
such a declaration to our heiress. So with Jack away, his love, if it
exist, for Lucy untold, it is not strange that Burton, and he is a most
charming man, in constant attendance upon my granddaughter
should have won her heart. He is handsome, educated, cultured and
wealthy. I could imagine no cause for an objection, so when he
asked for Lucy’s hand I assented. The arrangements are completed
and they will be married next month. Lucy wished you to witness the
ceremony and wrote you and you hasten from Haiti home with this
unpleasant discovery. Now, John, think of Lucy and tell me, brother,
what your heart says is our duty.”
James Dunlap, exhausted by the vehement earnestness that he
had put into this long speech, recounting the events and
circumstances that had led up to the approaching marriage of his
granddaughter, dropped into one of the large armchairs near the
fire, waiting for a reply, while his brother continued his nervous
tramp across the room.
Silence was finally disturbed by a light knock on the door and a
messenger entered, saying that Captain Dunlap begged permission
to speak with the firm a few moments. When the name was
announced the two brothers exchanged glances that seemed to say,
“The man I was thinking of.”
“Show him in, of course,” cried John Dunlap, eagerly stopping in
his monotonous pacing up and down the room.
The door opened again and there entered the room a man of
about twenty-seven years of age, rather below the medium height of
Americans, but of such breadth of shoulders and depth of chest as
to give evidence of unusual physical strength. A sailor, every inch a
sailor, anyone could tell, from the top of his curly blonde hair to the
sole of his square toed boots. His sunburnt face, while not
handsome, according to the ideals of artists, was frank, manly, bold
—a brave, square jawed Anglo-Saxon face, with eyes of that steely
gray that can become as tender as a mother’s and as fierce as a
tiger’s.
“Come in, Jack,” cried both of the old gentlemen together.
“Glad to see you my boy,” added John Dunlap. “How did you find
your good mother and the rest of our friends in Bedford? I only
landed today; came from Port au Prince to see the Commons once
more; heard that the ‘Lucy’ and her brave master, my namesake,
had arrived a week ahead of me, safe and sound, from East Indian
waters.”
So saying he grasped both of the sailor’s hands and shook them
with the genuine cordiality of a lad of sixteen.
“Have you seen my granddaughter since your return, Captain
Jack?” inquired James Dunlap, as he shook the young man’s hand.
“I was so unfortunate as to call when she was out shopping, and
as Mrs. Church, the housekeeper, told me that she was so busy
preparing for the approaching wedding that she was engaged all the
time, I have hesitated to call again,” replied the sailor, as with a
somewhat deeper shade of red in his sun burned face he seated
himself between the twins.
“Lucy will not thank Mrs. Church for that speech if it is to deprive
her of the pleasure of welcoming her old playmate and cousin back
to Boston and home. You must come and dine with us tomorrow,”
said Lucy’s grandfather.
“I am much obliged for your kind invitation, sir, but if you will only
grant the request I am about to make of the firm, my next visit to
my cousin will be to say goodby, as well as to receive a welcome
home from a voyage.”
 “Why, what do you mean, lad!” exclaimed both of the brothers
simultaneously.
Concealment or deception was probably the most difficult of all
things for this frank man with the free spirit of the sea fresh in his
soul, so that while he answered the color surged up stronger and
stronger in his face until the white brow, saved from the sun by his
hat, was as red as his close shaven cheeks.
“Well, sir, this is what I mean. I learned yesterday that the storm
we encountered crossing the Atlantic coming home had strained my
ship so badly that it will be two months before she is out of the
shipwright’s hands.”
“What of that, Jack,” broke in the darker J. Dunlap. “Take a rest at
home. I know your mother will be delighted, and speaking from a
financial standpoint, as you know, it makes not the least difference.”
“I was going to add, sir, that this morning I learned that Captain
Chadwick of your ship ‘Adams,’ now loaded and ready to sail for
Australia, was down with pneumonia and could not take the ship
out, and that there was some difficulty in securing a master that
filled the requirements of your house. I therefore applied to Mr.
Burton for the command of the ‘Adams,’ but he absolutely refused to
consider the application saying that as I had been away for almost
two years, that it would be positively brutal to even permit me to go
to sea again so soon, and that the ‘Adams’ might stay loaded and
tied to the dock ten years rather than I should leave home so
speedily.”
“Burton is exactly right, I endorse every word he has said. You
can’t have the ‘Adams’!” said James Dunlap with emphasis. “What
would Martha Dunlap, your mother, and our dear cousin’s widow,
think if we robbed her of her only son so soon after his return from a
long absence from home?”
“My mother knows, sir, that my stay at home will be very brief.
She expects me to ask to go to sea again almost immediately. I told
her all about it when I first met her upon my return,” and as he
spoke the shipmaster’s gaze was never raised from the nautical cap
that he held in his hand.
“Well! You are not going to sea again immediately, that is all about
it. You have handled the ‘Lucy’ for two years, away from home,
using your own judgment, in a manner that, even were you not our
kinsman, would entitle you to a long rest at the expense of our
house as grateful shipowners,” said Lucy’s grandfather.
The young man giving no heed to the compliment contained in the
remarks made by James Dunlap, but looking up and straight into the
eyes of the brother just arrived from Haiti, said so earnestly that
there could be no question of his purpose:
“I wish to get to sea as soon as possible. If I cannot sail in the
‘Adams,’ much as I dislike to leave you, sirs, I must seek other
employ.”
“The devil you will!” exclaimed his godfather angrily.
“Why, if you sail now you will miss your cousin’s wedding and
disappoint her,” added James Dunlap.
“Again, gentlemen, I say that I shall get to sea within a few days.
I either go in the ‘Adams’ or seek other employ,” and all the time he
was speaking not once did the sailor remove his steady gaze from
the eyes of him for whom he was named.
To say that the Dunlap brothers were astonished is putting it too
mildly; they were amazed. The master of a Dunlap ship was an
object of envy to every shipmaster out of Boston—the pay and
employ was the best in America—that a kinsman and master should
even propose to leave their employ was monstrous. In amazement
both of the old gentlemen looked at the young man in silence.
Suddenly as old John Dunlap looked into young John Dunlap’s
honest eyes he read something there, for first leaning forward in his
chair and gazing more intently into the gray eyes of the sailor, he
sprang to his feet and grasping the arm of his young kinsman he
fairly hauled him to the window at the other end of the room, then
facing him around so that he could get a good look at his face, he
almost whispered:
“Jack, when did you learn first that Lucy was to be married?”
“When I came ashore at Boston one week ago.”
The answer came so quickly that the question must have been
read in the eyes of the older man before uttered.
“I thought so,” said the old man softly and sadly, as he walked,
still holding the sailor by the arm, back to the fire, and added as he
neared his brother:
“James, Jack wants the ‘Adams’ and is in earnest. I can’t have him
leave our employ; therefore he must go as master of that ship.”
“But, brother, think of it,” exclaimed James Dunlap.
“There is no but about it, James, I wish him to sail in our ship, the
‘Adams,’ as master. I understand his desire and endorse his wish to
get to sea.”
“Oh! Of course if you really are in earnest just instruct Burton in
the premises, but Jack must dine with us tomorrow and see Lucy or
she will never forgive him or me.”
“Don’t you see that the lad has always loved Lucy, is heartbroken
over her marriage and wants to get away before the wedding?” cried
John Dunlap, as he turned after closing the door upon Captain Jack’s
departing figure.
“What a blind old fool I am not to have seen or thought of that!”
exclaimed his brother.
“How I wish in my soul it was our cousin that my girl was going to
marry instead of Burton, but it is too late, too late.”
Sadly the darker Dunlap brother echoed the words of Lucy’s
grandfather, as he sank into a chair and covered his face with his
hands:
Too late! Too late! Too late!
 II.
“You don’t mean that Mr. Dunlap has consented to your going out
to Australia in charge of the ‘Adams,’ do you, Captain Jack?”
The man who asked the question, as he rose from the desk at
which he was sitting, was quite half a head taller than the sea
captain whom he addressed. His figure was elegant and graceful,
though slim; his face possessed that rare beauty seen only on the
canvas of old Italian masters, clearly cut features, warm olive
complexion in which the color of the cheeks shows in subdued
mellow shadings, soft, velvet-like brown eyes, a mouth of almost
feminine character and proportion filled with teeth as regular and
white as grains of rice.
Save only that the white surrounding the brown of his beautiful
eyes might have been clearer, that his shapely hands might have
been more perfect, had a bluish tinge not marred the color of his
finger nails, and his small feet might have been improved by more
height of instep, Walter Burton was an ideal picture of a graceful,
handsome, cultivated gentleman.
“Yes, Mr. Burton, I am to sail as master of the ‘Adams.’ How soon
can I get a clearance and put to sea?”
“It is an absolute outrage to permit you to go to sea again so
soon. Why, Captain, you have had hardly time to get your shore
legs. You have not seen many of your old friends; Miss Dunlap told
me last evening that she had not even seen you.”
Burton’s voice was as soft, sweet and melodious as the tones of a
silver flute, and the thought of the young sailor’s brief stay at home
seemed to strike a chord of sadness that gave added charm to the
words he uttered.
 “I expect to dine with my cousin tomorrow evening and will then
give her greeting upon my home coming and at the same time bid
her goodby upon my departure.”
“I declare, Jack, this is awfully sad to me, old chap, and I know
Lucy will be sorely disappointed. You know that we are to be married
next month and Lucy has said a dozen times that she wished you to
be present; that you had always been a tower of strength to her and
that nothing could alarm or make her nervous if, as she put it, ‘brave
and trustworthy Jack be near.’”
The sailor’s face lost some of its color in spite of the tan that sun
and sea had given it, as he listened to words that he had heard Lucy
say when, as a boy and girl, they had climbed New Hampshire’s hills,
or sailed along Massachusetts’ coast together.
“I shall be sorry if Lucy be disappointed, but I am so much of a
sea-swab now that I am restless and unhappy while ashore.”
What a poor liar young John Dunlap was. His manner, or
something, not his words, in that instant revealed his secret to
Burton, as a flash of lightning in the darkness discloses a scene, so
was Jack’s story and reason for hurried departure from Boston made
plain.
By some yet unexplained process of mental telegraphy the two
young men understood each other. Spontaneously they extended
their hands and in their warm clasp a bond of silent sympathy was
established. Thus they stood for a moment, then Burton said in that
sad, sweet voice of his:
“Jack, dear old chap, I will get your clearance papers tomorrow
and you may put to sea when you please, but see Lucy before you
sail.”
Ere Dunlap could reply the door of the manager’s office opened
and there entered the room a man of such peculiar appearance as to
attract the attention of the most casual observer. He was thin, even
to emaciation. The skin over his almost hairless head seemed drawn
as tightly as the covering of a drum. The ghastliness of his dead-
white face was made more apparent by the small gleaming black
eyes set deep and close to a huge aquiline nose, and the scarlet,
almost bloody stripe that marked the narrow line of his lips.
“Beg pardon,” said the man, seeing someone with Burton, and
then, recognizing who the visitor was, added:
“Oh, how are you, Jack? I did not know that you were with the
manager,” and he seemed to put the faintest bit of emphasis upon
the word “manager.”
“Well, what is it, Chapman?” said Burton somewhat impatiently.
“I only wished to inform you that I have secured a master for the
‘Adams.’ Captain Mason, who was formerly in our employ, has
applied for the position and as he was satisfactory when with us
before I considered it very fortunate for us to secure his services just
now.”
“The ‘Adams’ has a master already assigned to her,” interrupted
the manager.
“Why! When? Who?” inquired the superintendent eagerly.
“The ‘Adams’ sails in command of Captain Dunlap here.”
The gleaming black eyes of Chapman seemed to bury their
glances into the very heart of the manager as he stretched his thin
neck forward and asked:
“Did you give him the ship?”
“J. Dunlap made the assignment of Captain Jack to the ship today
at his own request and contrary to my wishes,” said Burton abruptly,
somewhat annoyed at Chapman’s manner.
It was now the turn of Jack to stand the battery of those hawk
eyes of the superintendent, who sought to read the honest sailor’s
soul as he shot his glances into Jack’s clear gray eyes.
“Ah! Cousin Jack going away so soon and our Miss Lucy’s wedding
next month. How strange!” Chapman seemed speaking to himself.
 “If that is all, Chapman, just say to Mason that the firm appointed
a master to the ‘Adams’ without your knowledge; therefore he can’t
have the ship,” said Burton with annoyance in his tone and manner,
dismissing the superintendent with a wave of his hand toward the
door.
When Chapman glided out of the room, the man moved always in
such a stealthy manner that he appeared to glide instead of walk,
Burton exclaimed:
“Do you know, Jack, that that man Chapman can irritate me more
by his detective demeanor than any man I ever saw could do by
open insult. I am ashamed of myself for allowing such to be the
case, but I can’t help it. To have a chap about who seems to be
always playing the Sherlock Holmes act is wearing on one’s patience.
Why, confound it! If he came in this minute to say that we needed a
new supply of postage stamps he would make such a detective job
of it that I should feel the uncomfortable sensation that the mailing
clerk had stolen the last lot purchased.”
Jack, who disliked the sneaky and secretive as much as any man
alive and had just been irritated himself by Chapman’s untimely
scrutiny, said:
“I am not astonished and don’t blame you. While I have known
Chapman all my life, I somehow, as a boy and man, have always felt
when talking to him that I was undergoing an examination before a
police magistrate.”
“Of course I ought to consider that he has been with the house for
more than forty years and is fidelity and faithfulness personified to
‘J. Dunlap,’ but he is so absurdly jealous and suspicious that he
would wear out the patience of a saint, and I don’t pretend to be
one,” supplemented Burton.
“Half the time,” said Jack, glad apparently to discuss Chapman and
thus avoid the subject which beneath the surface of their
conversation was uppermost in the minds of both Burton and
himself.
 “I have not the slightest idea what ‘Old Chap,’ as I call him, is
driving at. He goes hunting a hundred miles away for the end of a
coil of rope that is lying at his very feet, and he is the very devil, too,
for finding out anything he wishes to know. Why, when I was a boy
and used to get into scrapes, if ‘Old Chap’ cornered me I knew it
was no use trying to get out of the mess and soon learned to plead
guilty at once,” and Jack smiled in a dreary kind of way at the
recollection of some of his boyish pranks.
“Well, let old Chapman, the modern Sherlock Holmes, and his
searching disposition go for the present. Promise to be sure to dine
with Lucy tomorrow evening. She expects me to be there also, as
she is going to have one or two young women and needs some of
the male sex to talk to them. I know that she will want you all to
herself,” said Burton.
“Yes, I’ll be on hand all right tomorrow night and you get my
papers in shape during the day, as I will sail as early day after
tomorrow as the tide serves,” replied the captain.
“By the way, Jack! Send your steward to me when you go aboard
to take charge of the ‘Adams’ in the morning. Tell him to see me
personally. You sailors are such queer chaps and care so little about
your larder that I am going to see to it myself that you don’t eat salt
pork and hard tack on your voyage out, nor drink bilge water, either.”
“You are awfully kind, Burton, but you need not trouble yourself. I
am sure common sea grub is good enough for any sailor-man.”
As they walked together toward the front door, when Captain Jack
was leaving the building, in the narrow aisle between the long rows
of desks they came face to face with the superintendent. He stepped
aside and gazing after them, whispered:
“Strange, very strange, for Jack Dunlap to sail so soon.”
“Be sure to send that steward of yours to me tomorrow, Jack,”
called the manager of “J. Dunlap” as the sturdy figure of the sailor
disappeared in the fog that filled the crooked street in which
Boston’s oldest shipping and banking house had its office.
 “And no ship ever sailed from Boston provided as yours shall be,
poor old chap,” muttered the manager as he hurried back to his own
room in the office. “There shall be champagne enough on board the
‘Adams,’ Jack, to drink our health, if you so will, on our wedding day,
even though you be off Cape Good Hope.”

In the gloaming that dark November day the Dunlap brothers

were seated close together, side by side, in silence gazing into the
heap of coals that burned in the large grate before them. John
Dunlap’s hand rested upon the arm of his brother, as if in the mere
touching of him who had first seen the light in his company there
was comfort.
Burton thought, as he entered the private office that no finer
picture was ever painted than that made by these two fine old
American gentlemen as the flame from the crackling cannel coal shot
up, revealing their kind, gentle, generous faces in the surrounding
gloom of the room.
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” said the manager, pausing on the
threshold, hesitating to break in upon a scene that seemed almost
sacred, “but I was told that you had sent for me while I was out of
the office.”
“Come in, Burton, you were correctly informed,” said James
Dunlap, still neither changing his position nor removing his gaze
from the fire.
“My brother John and I have determined as a mark of love for our
young kinsman, Captain John Dunlap, and as an evidence of our
appreciation for faithful services rendered to us as mate and master,
to make him a present of our ship ‘Adams,’ now loaded for Australia,”
continued James Dunlap, speaking very low and very softly.
“You will please have the necessary papers for the transfer made
out tonight. We will execute them in the morning and you will see
that the proper entry is made upon the register at the custom
house. Have the full value of the ship charged to the private
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