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THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS

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# THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS ## Overview This subsection, titled "THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS," is a textual component extracted from the file [israel_potter.txt](arke:01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW). It spans lines 4312 to 4370 of the source text and is part of the larger [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection. ## Context The subsection is contained within [CHAPTER XVI. THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS, AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN.](arke:01KG8AJJ2BDJ8N0FXM1C21XVSG). It is followed by the subsection [AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN](arke:01KG8AK7MY0ZMRSHPGXZGA55RZ), indicating a sequential narrative flow within the chapter. This content was extracted on January 30, 2026, by an automated structure extraction process. ## Contents The text describes an incident where Paul (presumably John Paul Jones, as the novel *Israel Potter* by Herman Melville fictionalizes his life) and his crew approach Carrickfergus on the Irish coast. They seize a fishing boat to gather intelligence, learning about the British ship-of-war *Drake* anchored nearby. Paul plans a secret night attack on the *Drake*, intending to crash into its bow to expose its decks to musketry. However, his plans are thwarted by high winds and a sudden snowstorm, forcing him to abandon the immediate assault. Despite anchoring briefly within speaking distance of the enemy ship and reconnoitering, Paul manages to withdraw without arousing suspicion. The narrative highlights Paul's audacious daring combined with prudence, portraying him as an extraordinary warrior. The subsection concludes with the *Ranger* (Paul's ship) positioned midway across the channel at daybreak, with England, Scotland, and Ireland simultaneously in sight.
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2026-01-30T20:48:48.234Z
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description_title
THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS
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4370
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2026-01-30T20:47:55.385Z
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4312
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Next day, off Carrickfergus, on the Irish coast, a fishing boat, allured by the Quaker-like look of the incognito craft, came off in full confidence. Her men were seized, their vessel sunk. From them Paul learned that the large ship at anchor in the road, was the ship-of-war Drake, of twenty guns. Upon this he steered away, resolving to return secretly, and attack her that night. “Surely, Captain Paul,” said Israel to his commander, as about sunset they backed and stood in again for the land “surely, sir, you are not going right in among them this way? Why not wait till she comes out?” “Because, Yellow-hair, my boy, I am engaged to marry her to-night. The bride’s friends won’t like the match; and so, this very night, the bride must be carried away. She has a nice tapering waist, hasn’t she, through the glass? Ah! I will clasp her to my heart.” He steered straight in like a friend; under easy sail, lounging towards the Drake, with anchor ready to drop, and grapnels to hug. But the wind was high; the anchor was not dropped at the ordered time. The ranger came to a stand three biscuits’ toss off the unmisgiving enemy’s quarter, like a peaceful merchantman from the Canadas, laden with harmless lumber. “I shan’t marry her just yet,” whispered Paul, seeing his plans for the time frustrated. Gazing in audacious tranquillity upon the decks of the enemy, and amicably answering her hail, with complete self-possession, he commanded the cable to be slipped, and then, as if he had accidentally parted his anchor, turned his prow on the seaward tack, meaning to return again immediately with the same prospect of advantage possessed at first—his plan being to crash suddenly athwart the Drake’s bow, so as to have all her decks exposed point-blank to his musketry. But once more the winds interposed. It came on with a storm of snow; he was obliged to give up his project. Thus, without any warlike appearance, and giving no alarm, Paul, like an invisible ghost, glided by night close to land, actually came to anchor, for an instant, within speaking-distance of an English ship-of-war; and yet came, anchored, answered hail, reconnoitered, debated, decided, and retired, without exciting the least suspicion. His purpose was chain-shot destruction. So easily may the deadliest foe—so he be but dexterous—slide, undreamed of, into human harbors or hearts. And not awakened conscience, but mere prudence, restrain such, if they vanish again without doing harm. At daybreak no soul in Carrickfergus knew that the devil, in a Scotch bonnet, had passed close that way over night. Seldom has regicidal daring been more strangely coupled with octogenarian prudence, than in many of the predatory enterprises of Paul. It is this combination of apparent incompatibilities which ranks him among extraordinary warriors. Ere daylight, the storm of the night blew over. The sun saw the Ranger lying midway over channel at the head of the Irish Sea; England, Scotland, and Ireland, with all their lofty cliffs, being as simultaneously as plainly in sight beyond the grass-green waters, as the City Hall, St. Paul’s, and the Astor House, from the triangular Park in New York. The three kingdoms lay covered with snow, far as the eye could reach.
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THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS

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