The Roamer slipped through the smooth water, past steamboat wharves
, landing stages, and warehouses.
As the paddle-wheels began to turn, and wharves
and shipping to recede through the veil of heat, it seemed to Archer that everything in the old familiar world of habit was receding also.
Her glory is departed, and with her crumbling grandeur of wharves
and palaces about her she sits among her stagnant lagoons, forlorn and beggared, forgotten of the world.
In among the ships they went, by the wharves
where the water was green and still, and queer barnacles grew on the slippery piles.
Moreover, he went about to other counting-houses, and to wharves
, and docks, and to the Custom House,' and to Garraway's Coffee House, and the Jerusalem Coffee House, and on 'Change; so that he was much in and out.
Such occasions might remind the elderly citizen of that period, before the last war with England, when Salem was a port by itself; not scorned, as she is now, by her own merchants and ship-owners, who permit her wharves to crumble to ruin while their ventures go to swell, needlessly and imperceptibly, the mighty flood of commerce at New York or Boston.
Much and deservedly to my own discredit, therefore, and considerably to the detriment of my official conscience, they continued, during my incumbency, to creep about the wharves, and loiter up and down the Custom-House steps.
Poking and burrowing into the heaped-up rubbish in the corner, unfolding one and another document, and reading the names of vessels that had long ago foundered at sea or rotted at the wharves, and those of merchants never heard of now on 'Change, nor very readily decipherable on their mossy tombstones; glancing at such matters with the saddened, weary, half-reluctant interest which we bestow on the corpse of dead activity -- and exerting my fancy, sluggish with little use, to raise up from these dry bones an image of the old towns brighter aspect, when India was a new region, and only Salem knew the way thither -- I chanced to lay my hand on a small package, carefully done up in a piece of ancient yellow parchment.
Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge.
The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water.