The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman PotterAdams, F. Colburn (Francis Colburn)
General
The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter
Adams, F. Colburn (Francis Colburn)
Political fiction
The major's fears now entirely deserted him, and his thoughts were
directed to how he could best appear before such distinguished
pleasure seekers. It has before been described how the major was not
a little vain of his military position; and lest the humble
character of the craft on which he voyaged might not be regarded in
its proper light by the strangers, he thought of mounting his
uniform, in which they would not fail to recognize him as a person
of distinction. While, however, he paused in a state of uncertainty,
the little craft came within a fathom of us, and a voice cried out,
"What sloop is that? and from whence came you?"
"The Two Marys, of Barnstable! six days out. You will be welcome on
board, and such fare as we have shall be at your service!" replied
the captain, in the manliness of his nature, as he at the same time
ordered one of his sons to get "fasts" ready. The yacht (which was
none other than the "Saucy Kate," of the Harlem Yacht Club) now
dropped her fenders, and rounded to, like a thing of life, under the
stern of the "Two Marys," while Captain Luke put his helm down, and
luffed into the wind. Another minute and she was fast alongside,
when there came rollicking on board two ladies accompanied by two
gentlemen, whose demeanor, though they were dressed in garbs
peculiar to the occasion, at once bespoke them persons of ease
circumstance. One of the men was peculiarly tall and and erect of
person, had a long, brown mustache, and hair that is called Saxon,
which he had evidently taken some pains to keep well ordered. As to
his face, though there was nothing particularly striking in it, (if
a resemblance to the great General Webb be excepted,) I very much
doubt if Brady could have selected a better subject to fill a vacant
niche among those handsome men whose photographs adorn the entrance
to his gallery on Broadway. The other was a frisky little man, with
a promising red beard and mustache, and a dull blue eye, and a
little freckled face, and a puggish nose. His dress was trowsers of
white canvas, and a Norseman's jacket, with rows of large horn
buttons down the sides, and a corpulent cigar pouch in the breast
pocket.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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