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 About the Author

Annie Darling lives in London in a tiny flat, which is bursting at the

seams with teetering piles of books.

Her three greatest passions in life are romance novels, vintage

fashion and Mr Mackenzie, her British Shorthair cat.
 Also by Annie Darling

The Little Bookshop of Lonely Hearts

Crazy in Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop
True Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop
A Winter Kiss in Rochester Mews
The Vintage Dress Shop in
Primrose Hill
 Part One
A New Look

Annie Darling

www.hodder.co.uk
 First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company

Copyright © Annie Darling 2023

The right of Annie Darling to be identified as the Author of the Work

has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.

Cover Design: Sarah Christie

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any
means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be
otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that
in which it is published and without a similar condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British
Library

eBook ISBN 978 1 399 71540 9

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ

www.hodder.co.uk
Dedicated to anyone who’s ever known the transformative power of
a really, really good dress.
‘Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important
offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the
world and the world’s view of us.’
Virginia Woolf, Orlando
 Contents

About the Author

Also by Annie Darling
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication

PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
PART ONE
 Chapter One

Sophy Stevens was having a bad day.

Correction. A bad week.
Make that a bad month.
Maybe even a bad year. In fact, she might even have been born
during a bad moment in the cosmoverse when none of the
constellations were aligned, Mercury was well and truly in retrograde
and it was a full moon.
It would explain a hell of a lot.
But right now she could only focus on one bad day at a time and,
as bad days went, this particular Thursday was fair to middling.
As Sophy came out of Chalk Farm station, the February sky was a
perfect blue. Not a cloud in sight, which was odd when she felt so
downcast.
It was really too cold to eat ice cream, and Sophy would have
much preferred a large white wine, but she’d been meeting Johnno
at Marine Ices for years. The tradition was long-running enough that
she could remember the ice cream parlour when it was in its original
spot, just opposite the tube station. Run by an Italian family, Marine
Ices was a London institution, and one that Sophy hoped would
never fall out of favour because a large bowl of their hazelnut ice
cream would be her Death Row meal.
It was also a tradition that sometimes Johnno would turn up and
sometimes he wouldn’t. Sophy took her phone out of her bag to
check if there was an apologetic message heavy with emojis.
Though sometimes, when he was a no-show, he didn’t even
message. Not for a few days.
Just to make sure, though it was a case of hope over experience,
Sophy messaged him.
There in five.
But when Sophy reached the ice cream parlour in three, she was
amazed to see Johnno already waiting for her with a knickerbocker
glory in front of him, two spoons, because he still thought she was
eight.
‘Kiddo! I swear you get more beautiful by the day,’ he greeted her,
with the broad Australian accent that even thirty years in London
couldn’t wither.
‘I have a huge spot on my chin,’ Sophy said as Johnno stood up
so he could hug her. He wasn’t much taller than Sophy and she was
only five foot four in her socks. But what Johnno lacked in height, he
made up for in sheer charisma.
It wasn’t just that he was wearing a pink and white cowboy shirt
tucked into leather trousers or that what little hair he had, close-
cropped, was the same shade of neon pink as his shirt; it was
Johnno’s presence.
He could charm the birds right out of the trees. He could make
the starchiest, stiffest people break out into sunny smiles (a skill that
came in particularly useful when dealing with traffic wardens). He
could walk into a room and within five minutes he was everyone’s
best friend. Johnno was a chancer. A ducker and diver. A wheeler-
dealer. A cowboy. A wide boy. A bad boy. Or as Sophy’s mum had
said gently to six-year-old Sophy when they’d waited in vain for an
hour at Marine Ices one Saturday afternoon for Johnno, ‘I know that
he can be tremendous fun but the thing is, Soph, you shouldn’t
really expect too much from your dad.’
It was a lesson that Sophy had learned the hard way. Though she
couldn’t even remember a time when the three of them had been a
family because Johnno had left, or rather Caroline had thrown him
and all his stuff out onto the street, when Sophy was still a baby.
Sophy was ten when Caroline had got married (Johnno had
promised to marry her when she first got pregnant but never got
round to it) and she always thought of Mike as her proper dad. A
dad who’d done PTA evenings and school plays and ferried her
around north London to dance classes and competitions, sleepovers
and trips to Brent Cross shopping centre to hang out with her
friends.
But biologically Johnno was still her dad. He might have been a
somewhat absent, unreliable presence in Sophy’s life but, when they
did manage to meet up, he was very good at imparting useful life
advice. (‘Never trust a bloke who doesn’t tip well.’ ‘Anyone you meet
after midnight is up to no good.’ ‘Always make sure that you’ve got a
spare pair of pants and a tenner on you.’) He was also quite handy
when Sophy needed backup. Like the time she’d been working as a
waitress in a French restaurant in Soho and her boss had put his
hand up her skirt, then sacked her when she’d objected. Johnno had
rolled up, fixed her ex-boss (who was a good head taller than him)
with a flint-eyed look and then threatened to break every bone in his
body and pluck out his internal organs for the pigeons in Leicester
Square to feast on. Even Sophy had believed him. Her lecherous ex-
boss had taken three hundred quid out of the till, given it to Sophy
and begged her forgiveness.
You had to take the rough with the smooth when it came to
Johnno, so Sophy sat down, picked up her spoon and asked him
how he’d been.
‘Can’t complain, Soph,’ Johnno said, because he wasn’t a moaner
and couldn’t stand whingers. Especially whinging Poms. ‘The sun’s
shining, birds are singing, I’m eating ice cream with my beautiful
daughter, what more could a bloke ask for?’
‘Right, yeah, when you put it like that.’ Sophy took another
mouthful of ice cream and wondered how best to lead in to her
news. ‘You don’t miss Australia at all? It’s been ages since you
visited.’
Johnno steepled his hands, so Sophy could see the words ‘love’
and ‘hate’ tattooed on his knuckles. Johnno’s life motto was that it
was better to regret something that you had done rather than
something you hadn’t done, but he’d once told Sophy that the only
thing that he really regretted was having the word ‘hate’ tattooed on
his body. ‘I went back for Mum’s sixtieth,’ he calculated. ‘That was
what? A couple of years ago?’
‘She’s going to be seventy-three this year,’ Sophy said gently.
‘That so? Bloody hell.’ Johnno widened his faded-denim-blue eyes
in disbelief. ‘So, you’re in regular contact then with your
grandparents? I know your other lot want me horsewhipped.’
Not horsewhipped, but it was true that Caroline’s parents didn’t
have a good word to say about Johnno, and as for his own parents,
Bob and Jean just sighed a lot when his name came up during the
regular FaceTime chats Sophy had with them.
‘I speak to them, occasionally,’ she explained now. ‘Well, once a
month. Sometimes twice a month.’
‘Well, why shouldn’t you? I must give them a ring,’ Johnno said
vaguely, which meant that he might remember this urge at some
point in the future but who could even guess if he’d act on it.
‘In fact, I’ll be talking to them a lot more quite soon,’ Sophy said,
because now she had the perfect lead-in to her news. She smiled
brightly at Johnno, who stared back at her unmoved (another piece
of his life advice: ‘Never trust someone who smiles with all their
teeth’). ‘You see, I’ve decided, it’s just as well you’re sitting down,
I’ve decided that … I’m …’
‘Spit it out, Soph. Neither of us are getting any younger.’
Sophy put down her spoon, so she could clasp her hands
together. ‘I’m emigrating. To Australia.’
‘Say bloody what now?’ Johnno was usually so laid-back that it
was a wonder he didn’t fall over but now he reared back in his seat,
face turned to the heavens so that, for one horrible moment, Sophy
feared that he was having a stroke. ‘Are you out of your bloody
mind?’
No, not a stroke. Just processing her big news.
‘I’ve never explored the Australian part of my heritage …’
‘That’s because the Australian part of your heritage is a sheep
station in the middle of bloody nowhere.’
‘It’s practically on the coast and Grandad says that I can borrow
the truck whenever I want to.’
‘So you’re going to live with them?’
‘To start with. It’s their golden wedding anniversary at the end of
August, which you should know about because they’re your par—’
‘And can you even drive?’
‘Technically I can. Mike and Mum gave me lessons for my
eighteenth and I passed my test on the fourth go, but who drives in
London? I mean, there’s nowhere to park and it’s super-expensive
and—’
‘You’re going off-topic, love,’ Johnno advised, leaning forward now
so he could stare at Sophy like he was seeing her for the first time.
‘What does your mum say about this?’
‘She’s getting used to the idea.’ Sophy decided to gloss over
Caroline’s reaction, which had mostly involved shouting, ‘Have you
taken complete leave of your senses?’ very loudly. ‘I know that it all
seems like this has come out of the blue but it hasn’t. Not really. I
need this. I’ve been wanting to change things up for ages. I just
needed a push…’
Her voice was wobbling like washing on the line on a windy day
and she could feel the tears begin to stream down her face and plop
into the half-melted ice cream.
‘What gave you the push, kiddo?’ Johnno asked. Sophy knew that
Johnno didn’t like whingers and that really their relationship, such as
it was, was all surface. Neither of them went too deep. So she’d
planned to be very positive about her news; but now she was crying
and it all came spilling out.
‘I got made redundant,’ she choked out. ‘Not even redundant. I
turned up for work, like I have done every day for the last ten years,
and the shop was boarded up and there was a note on the door
from the official receivers that the company had gone into
administration. So, no redundancy pay; in fact, I’m still owed for
December’s wages, all my Christmas overtime, which I’m probably
never going to get.’
‘Soph, sweetheart, I can give you the money…’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Sophy protested. ‘I can find another
job. I have ten years’ retail experience. I’ve been an exemplary
employee. Except now I can’t even get the area manager to answer
my messages on LinkedIn and give me a reference.’
‘They’d better give you a reference,’ Johnno growled, but this
wasn’t something he could fix by turning up at the company’s
shuttered headquarters and threatening violence.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. ‘Then when I got home, I was
pretty upset and, when I told Egan, he didn’t even say he was sorry.
He just asked me how I was going to pay the rent.’
‘I never liked him,’ Johnno said of Sophy’s boyfriend of the last
five years, though they’d only met once. Johnno had all but crushed
Egan’s fingers to pulp when they’d shaken hands. ‘Anyway, doesn’t
he own that flat?’
‘How do you remember that?’ He didn’t even know how old his
actual mother was and yet Johnno had squirreled away the
information that Egan owned his own flat. Or rather his parents had
bought it for him. ‘I didn’t want to leech off him, so we split the bills
and I paid rent—’
‘You were paying him rent and bills. OK, me and that Egan are
going to be having words…’
‘You won’t be having words because me and that Egan have
broken up and so now I’m thirty, thirty, and I’m unemployed and I’m
single and I’m homeless,’ Sophy summed up, then she couldn’t
speak any more but sat there hiccupping and sobbing and trying to
dry her eyes with a napkin, which scoured her face raw because it
was better suited to mopping up ice cream spills.
Johnno let out a shaky breath. ‘Homeless? Caroline and Mike
won’t let you move back in?’
‘Well, not technically homeless. They’re happy to have me but I
have to sleep on the sofa because Mum’s turned my old bedroom
into a home spa.’ Sophy finished on a wail.
‘So, hate to rag on you when you’re down, but is this why you’re
set on moving to Oz? Because it’s a bloody stupid idea.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s a great idea.’ But Sophy didn’t even have a
chance to list the reasons why it was a great idea because Johnno
had launched into the story she’d already heard many times about
how he couldn’t wait to leave Australia and had followed his mates
over, who were in a punk band called The Birthday Party. ‘Nick Cave,
you heard of him? He’s done all right for himself. And so have I,
because I’m not up to my elbows in sheep dung. You’re not going,
Soph. I forbid it.’
Sophy stopped crying in favour of laughing. ‘You forbid it? Right!
I’m an actual adult person. You can’t forbid me to do anything and
you’re the person who always tells me that I should try everything at
least once. Well. I’m trying Australia and you can’t stop me!’
‘But emigrating…’ Johnno spluttered.
‘Yes, emigrating, because have I mentioned that I’m thirty and
I’m stuck and I lost my job of ten years that I didn’t even like that
much and London is the most expensive city in the world after Tokyo
and there isn’t a single eligible man on the dating apps, it’s dick pics
as far as the eye can see, and I just need something to be different.’
Sophy banged her fist on the table. ‘I need to be different.’
‘You can be different without haring off halfway across the bloody
world—’
 ‘Not another word,’ Sophy snapped, and she knew she must be
channelling her mother because Johnno mimed zipping his lips shut
and sat back with arms folded and a cowed expression.
They sat in silence. It wasn’t at all how Sophy had thought this
conversation would go. She and Johnno never argued. They kept
things light. It was what they did. It was how they functioned.
Of course Johnno, being Johnno, couldn’t keep quiet for longer
than one minute and fifteen seconds, though that had to be a
personal best. ‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘You can’t just go to Australia.
They’re fussy about who they let in. You’ll need a visa and they don’t
come cheap either…’
‘I don’t need a visa,’ Sophy said but Johnno shook his head.
‘You will, Soph. A mate of mine fell in love with a girl from
Canberra and flew out to marry her and they still wouldn’t let him in
without a visa and a few thousand quid in savings—’
‘I don’t need a visa,’ Sophy repeated, and if she’d inherited a
certain tone of voice from her mother, the way that she was
currently lifting her chin all ready for an argument was pure Johnno.
‘I don’t need savings either, though of course I’m not going to turn
up empty-handed.’
Johnno was on his phone. He lifted up a warning hand at Sophy
for daring to interrupt his scrolling time. ‘Yeah, see? You need a visa,’
he said, showing her his phone screen and the website of the
Australian Home Affairs department. A website that Sophy knew
very well. ‘You might be on the skilled occupation list.’
‘I’m not because I don’t have any extraordinary skills, apart from
cashing up and dealing with customers that are getting arsey,’ Sophy
said. Her lack of extraordinary skills did sting but that was one of the
reasons why she wanted to emigrate: to learn new skills,
extraordinary or not.
‘No need to look so fed up, kiddo,’ Johnno said brightly, stabbing
at his phone with his index finger. ‘There’s this sponsored family
stream lark and that only costs $145 and you can stay up to twelve
months. Much better than emigrating.’
‘But I want to emigrate.’ It was quite hard to get the words out
through gritted teeth. ‘My best friend, we were at school together,
Radha, lives out there now. I was going to go with her back then but
Egan asked me to move in with him and I thought that was the
better option.’ Sophy sighed. She really was the poster girl for the
road not taken. ‘Anyway, she’s getting married in October, I’m one of
her bridesmaids, so with that and Bob and Jean’s golden wedding
… they both feel like signs, you know?’
‘Signs that you stay there for a few months and then come home,’
Johnno insisted.
Sophy shook her head. ‘Radha was only going out for a gap year
but she fell in love with Australia.’ And also a software designer
called Patrick. ‘She says that she finishes work and then she’s
straight onto Bondi Beach ten minutes later. She’s even learned to
surf.’
‘Well, you’re not going to learn to surf in Queensville,’ Johnno said
flatly. ‘Might be near the coast but there are no decent waves.’
‘Surfing was just a for-instance …’
‘And you’ll still need a visa and thousands of pounds…’
‘But I won’t.’ The only way to get Johnno to listen was to raise her
voice so that the two girls on the next table, clearly bunking off
because they had their school blazers on, turned to look at her. ‘I
can claim Australian citizenship by descent. Because I have dual
nationality.’
Johnno frowned. He wasn’t usually so slow on the uptake. ‘Come
again?’
‘You were Australian at the time of my birth—’
‘Still am, love,’ he said proudly, even though apparently the last
time he’d been back to his motherland was thirteen years ago.
‘So, I just have to fill in some forms, provide written references
that I’m of good character, pay around three hundred dollars and I’m
good to go,’ Sophy explained. She opened her bag and pulled out
the plastic folder where she kept her ever-increasing collection of
documentation. ‘I just need a couple of bits and bobs from you. I
made a list.’
Johnno didn’t even hold out his hand for the piece of paper that
Sophy offered. ‘It looks like a long list.’
‘It has three things I need you to do: give me a copy of your
passport, a copy of your birth certificate, and first have them verified
by a solicitor…’ Sophy felt inevitable doom descending on her. ‘You
do have a copy of your birth certificate, don’t you?’
‘Well, not to hand.’ Johnno shrugged in a way that absolutely did
not inspire confidence. ‘It’ll probably turn up. Anyway, when are you
planning to go?’
Sophy fixed Johnno with another look, even steelier than the last
one. ‘It’s Bob and Jean’s fiftieth anniversary on August fifteenth and
I want to be there by then. To surprise them. It’s the end of
February now and I need that paperwork from you within the next
month to get my application processed ASAP.’
‘A month isn’t a lot of time,’ Johnno said, somewhat predictably,
though most people knew exactly where their birth certificates and
passports were. Then again, Johnno’s unpredictability was the most
predictable thing about him.
‘One month,’ Sophy repeated and hoped that the message had
sunk in. ‘Also, the airfares go shooting up after June because of the
school holidays. In the meantime I’m going to find a job, any lousy
job, so I can save for my airfare and some spending money, then I’m
out of here. I just need you to sort out the stuff on that list as soon
as—’
‘A job,’ Johnno echoed. ‘You need a job. Well, I can help you with
that. Though I still think this is a crazy idea.’
That was rich coming from Johnno, the king of crazy ideas, but
Sophy did really need a job so she decided that now wasn’t the time
to point that out.
 ‘You know someone who’s looking for staff?’ she asked hopefully,
though she was sure that whatever job it might be, it wouldn’t be a
regular nine to five. One of his mates worked in the reptile house at
London Zoo.
‘Me, I’ll give you a job. At the shop,’ Johnno said. He waved a
stubby hand. ‘I’ll talk to Freddy. He sorts out all that stuff for me.
Yeah, you can come and work for me in the old family business. How
does that sound?’
Sophy didn’t want to be churlish, but the thought of working in
Johnno’s shop didn’t fill her heart with gladness. On the contrary, it
made her heart sink like a ship’s anchor.
Johnno’s Junk. Ugh!
She’d only been there once when she was little but Sophy could
still remember the fusty, dusty smell that had caught at the back of
her throat. The old, limp clothes. Yellowing paperbacks with garish
covers. The stuffed fox head, its fangs bared, in a glass display case.
‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea me working for you. You
shouldn’t mix business and pleasure and all that,’ Sophy said, gently,
because she really did appreciate the offer but already she was
itching at the mere thought of all that creepy old tat in Johnno’s
Junk.
It was a source of much mystery to Sophy and her mother as to
why Johnno had never been declared bankrupt. Or how he always
managed to be flush with cash. Like now, as he opened his wallet
and started thumbing through a sizeable wad of notes.
‘Let me give you some cash to help you out until you’re back on
your feet,’ he said, because he was generous to a fault.
‘Oh no, you mustn’t,’ Sophy protested, holding up her hands to
ward off the bundle of twenties that Johnno was trying to thrust at
her. ‘I have a bit saved up.’
‘Now come on, love. Let your old man spoil you a bit.’
‘No, your money’s no good round here,’ Sophy said firmly.
 ‘If you won’t let me give you money, then at least let me give you
a job,’ Johnno wheedled, fluttering his lashes at her, which looked
ridiculous but somehow she was smiling. He was impossible. ‘Come
on! You and me working together. It will be fun.’
Despite ten years’ retail experience, finding another job was
proving to be very difficult. Sophy had no references, as the HR
department at her old job had also been locked out of the company
HQ. And she hadn’t really climbed up the career ladder either,
shunning any opportunities for promotion or advancement as too
much responsibility for not that much more money. Also, despite
what she’d just told Johnno, she had hardly any savings left.
She would have to fumigate herself at the end of each day, but
she did need a job and it would be nice, or a distraction at least, to
spend some time with Johnno. ‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘But only until I
find something be— I mean something else.’
‘Something better?’ Johnno asked with a grin because he knew
exactly what she’d been going to say. ‘What could be better than
working in my shop?’
Quite a lot of things, but by the time Sophy was on the tube
heading back to her mum’s house in Hendon, she was feeling
nostalgic for all the good times she’d had with Johnno. When he’d
actually turned up for them, that was.
She was also feeling better about the future. That was the other
thing that she always forgot about Johnno: he’d missed his true
calling. He could make a fortune as a motivational speaker.
‘You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re a straight talker and, luckily,
you take after your mother when it comes to looks,’ he’d said as he’d
walked her back to the station. ‘There’s nothing you can’t do, Soph.
I reckon you’ll be all right. Better than all right. You’re going to do
wonders, kiddo, but there ain’t any wonders to be had on a flaming
sheep station. Now, I’ll be in touch about the job soon.’
And that was that. It might even be the last time that Sophy ever
saw him before she left for Australia, but at least she’d be able to tell
Bob and Jean that their wayward son had a heart of gold.
 Chapter Two

A week later, on a Tuesday morning, Sophy was back at Chalk Farm

station. No one, not even her mum, had been more surprised than
Sophy when she got a message from Johnno to say that he’d sorted
out a job for her and would meet her at the station to ‘get you
started. Introduce you to everyone and all that jazz.’
Sophy wasn’t sure why they were meeting in Chalk Farm again
when the shop was in Holloway. But she’d learned a long time ago
that it was best not to wonder too hard why Johnno did anything.
Even though it was a grotty junk shop next to a chicken shop and
she was used to working in a large fashion store on Oxford Street,
Sophy still had first-day nerves. She didn’t know how many staff
Johnno had – though it couldn’t be very many – and whether they’d
resent her for coming in and think that she meant to lord it over
them. She also hadn’t known what to wear. She didn’t want to wear
anything too nice. In her old job they’d worn all black, bought at a
staff discount from the latest drop, but you couldn’t wear all black in
a junk shop. It would show up all the dust and cobwebs and, oh
God, mildew. There was bound to be mildew.
Sophy had settled for a navy blue and white polka dot jumpsuit
and her second nicest trainers because she was going to be on her
feet all day. Not her Vejas but her Veja dupes. As she waited for
Johnno, she pulled out her pocket mirror and scrutinised her face.
Her eyes were the same blue as Johnno’s but her poker-straight red
hair and pale skin came from her mother’s side of the family, who all
hailed from County Cork in Ireland. Sophy wiped away a smudge of
mascara and was just thinking about reapplying her lipgloss when
someone tapped her on the shoulder.
She whirled round. ‘Oh my God, this is twice now that you’ve
actually turned up when you said you would! Is this an all-time
record?’
But it wasn’t Johnno. Standing there was a tall man in jeans, a
black polo shirt and Harrington jacket and with artfully messy hair.
He looked like he was a member of one of the indie bands that
littered this part of north London. Maybe he was lost and needed
directions back to Camden?
‘Are you Sophy?’ he asked in a voice that had clearly had most of
its cockney edge smoothed out.
Not a member of a minor indie band then. And also … ‘You’re not
Johnno.’ Sophy pointed out the obvious.
‘I’m Freddy,’ he explained, holding out a hand for Sophy to shake.
‘Johnno asked me to meet you.’
Johnno had mentioned something about a Freddy. ‘You sort things
out for Johnno?’
‘I’m actually a solicitor by trade but I hate wearing a suit,’ Freddy
said with a shrug and a twinkle in his dark eyes. He had olive skin,
that riotous mop of curly chocolate-brown hair and a cheeky,
conspiratorial grin. Sophy could see why Johnno liked him. She felt
automatically disposed to like him too. ‘Johnno sends his apologies.
Said he had to go and see a man about a dog.’
When she’d been little, Sophy had always been excited and
hopeful on the numerous occasions that Johnno went to see a man
about a dog. Until she realised that there wasn’t going to be a dog.
It was just Johnno being completely unreliable yet again. ‘Does he
really have a job for me?’
Freddy nodded. ‘That’s why I’m here. Don’t worry, you’re in safe
hands. Shall we walk and talk?’
There was a lot to talk about. ‘I don’t have my P45 yet. Did
Johnno tell you about my last job? That the company went into
administration? Everything’s in the hands of some official bankruptcy
people, so I’m not sure how it’s all going to work with a temporary
job. I’ll probably have to go on an emergency tax code. Can Johnno
even afford for me to go on the books or will it be cash in hand? Not
that I’m saying I want it to be cash in hand but they take all your
money when they put you on an emergency tax code…’
‘Why don’t we go to the shop?’ Freddy suggested. ‘Everyone’s
there and they’re dying to meet you.’
Sophy nodded. ‘Are we going to get a bus? We could walk up to
Camden and get the 29.’
‘A bus?’
‘To the shop. Or an Uber?’
‘But it’s just round the corner.’
‘Freddy, the Holloway Road is not just round the corner.’
‘The Holloway Road?’ Freddy shook his head. ‘We’re not going to
Holloway.’
He took Sophy’s elbow and guided her round the corner so they
could walk over the bridge that led to Primrose Hill. Nestling next to
the slightly down-at-heel and achingly cool Camden Town, Primrose
Hill was one of those villages that London did so well. Full of large
stucco white Victorian villas and Regency terraces painted in pretty
sherbet colours and a main shopping thoroughfare thronged with
chichi boutiques, artisanal eateries and thriving independent shops.
Primrose Hill was for the seriously wealthy; who else would be
able to afford its multimillion-pound houses? It was the perfect place
to take their designer pooches for a stroll on Primrose Hill itself, with
its views stretching over nearby Regent’s Park and, beyond that, the
church spires and skyscrapers of London. To jog along the towpath
of the Regent’s Canal. Or watch the world go by from the window of
a café where there wouldn’t be much change from a ten-pound note
after purchasing a Peruvian-blend latte made with Fairtrade newly
activated almond milk.
 Primrose Hill was not a place where the tat that Johnno sold
would go down very well. No wonder Sophy was confused. ‘Has the
junk shop moved then?’
It seemed like Freddy was equally confused. ‘The junk shop?
What junk shop?’
Sophy frowned. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. Why would Johnno
move the shop to Primrose Hill? Primrose Hill is so posh and
Johnno’s Junk is not posh. It’s like the absolute opposite of posh.’
‘I don’t know what Johnno’s Junk is and, quite frankly, I don’t
want to. Here we are.’
Here was a terrace of shops. The fanciest of merchants. A yoga
studio. An interiors shop. A dry-cleaner’s that looked more minimalist
than any dry-cleaner’s that Sophy had ever seen.
The last shop in the little terrace had its exterior painted the most
perfect Wedgwood blue. In the window was one dress. But what a
dress! It was black and strapless, with a tight bodice, sweetheart
neckline and a skirt that consisted of layers and layers and layers of
tulle shot through with something to make them sparkle. It was one
of the most beautiful dresses that Sophy had ever seen. It was the
kind of dress that you had adventures in. She could picture a
woman, an impossibly beautiful and willowy woman, wearing that
dress in a nightclub. She’d be drinking champagne from a slender
flute while a jazz band played and a coterie of debonair men hung
on her every word. It was that kind of a dress.
Sophy finally tore her eyes away from the dress to look at the
signage. The Vintage Dress Shop, it said, in an elegant, understated
script, like the shop sign had been rolled through an old-fashioned
typewriter.
‘This isn’t Johnno’s Junk,’ Sophy pointed out.
Freddy gave her an even stare, though a muscle in his cheek was
pounding away. Maybe this was what Egan had meant during their
vicious, final argument when he’d said that she was the most
annoying woman he’d ever met. ‘No, it’s not. Johnno did mention
another shop he used to have but that closed down at least twenty
years ago.’
A pang of guilt speared Sophy’s insides. She hadn’t known that.
She knew the barest of facts about Johnno’s day-to-day doings. But
then for her to know all the ins and outs and latest developments in
Johnno’s life, he’d have had to have been in her life too.
‘He never said,’ she muttered, as Freddy opened the door and
gestured for her to step through it.
It might have fancy signage and a fancy font and a beautiful
dress in the window, but Sophy steeled herself for the fusty, musty
smell of old clothes that people had probably died in.
She actually put a hand over her nose to ward off the stench –
until she realised that the interior of the shop didn’t smell of
mothballs and wet wool but something expensive and exclusive.
Clean, very clean, and with the faintest scent of perfume. Like the
times that Sophy had dared to set foot in some swanky Bond Street
boutique, then promptly walked out again when the snooty sales
assistant had given her the evil eye.
Sophy did a slow three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn as she
tried to take it all in. There was so much that her eyes wanted to
linger on. Rather than being dark and poky with racks of garish
clothes and cubbyholes and baskets full of tacky accessories like the
vintage shops that Sophy had been in before, usually dragged there
by her stepsister Cress, the shop was light and airy.
The walls and floorboards were painted a soft, chalky white: a
perfect backdrop for the dresses. So many dresses. They were
arranged by colour. There was an entire wall of green dresses: from
the lightest softest seafoam to a bright emerald and a dark, mossy
bottle green. The yellow rail spanned lemon sherbet to the most
vibrant egg yolk. There were blue dresses, purple dresses, red
dresses. An entire section devoted to little black dresses.
It was a lot like the frock equivalent of the perfectly curated and
colour-coded bookshelves that Sophy had seen on Pinterest and
Instagram.
Everywhere that she turned, she was met with another delight to
feast her eyes on. There were the display cabinets (that looked like
they belonged on a 1930s ocean-liner) full of costume jewellery, all
bright colours like sweeties.
In the centre of the room were two shocking-pink velvet sofas
(though they were more chaise longue than settee) and at the back
of the room there was a 1930s ocean liner sort of desk, sleek and
curvy, and beyond that a series of curtained-off cubicles – the
changing rooms.
Immediately, Sophy felt out of place in her on-trend jumpsuit,
which had seemed like a perfectly appropriate and easy-wash outfit
for her first day in a temporary job, rooting about in an old junk
shop. Now it seemed really garish and out of place. Especially when
there was a woman standing behind the desk who looked like the
very last word in chic. She had a razor-sharp jet-black bob, its edges
so straight you could take a ruler to them. She was tall and slim, her
figure shown to perfection in the fitted black dress she was wearing,
and, when she came out from behind the desk, she glided across the
floor in the kind of heels that Sophy had only had nightmares about.
Of course, she had the most perfect arched eyebrows and Cupid’s-
bow lips outlined in a bright red that Sophy would never have the
courage to wear. The lips were currently stretched in a thin sort of
smile, which wasn’t even a little bit welcoming.
‘Freddy,’ the woman said in a thin voice to match. Her eyes briefly
skimmed over Sophy and then, as if Sophy wasn’t worthy of her
attention, her gaze fixed on a point beyond Sophy’s shoulder.
‘Phoebe,’ Freddy said, the tone of his voice not quite as friendly as
it had been before. ‘This is Sophy. Johnno’s Sophy. Sophy, this is
Phoebe, who practically runs this place single-handedly.’
‘It’s lovely,’ Sophy said with what she hoped was a friendly smile
and not a smile that said I only got this job because of my dad and
I’m going to be a constant thorn in your side. ‘I’ve never seen so
many gorgeous clothes all in one place. Do you only sell dresses or
do you sell separates too because—’
‘Everyone’s waiting upstairs,’ Phoebe said, cutting through Sophy’s
perfectly reasonable question. ‘I’ll get Beatrice to cover the shop
floor.’
She turned, so Sophy could see that she was wearing seamed
stockings, walked past the changing rooms to a door marked Private
and disappeared.
‘Takes a while to warm up to people,’ Freddy said, gently steering
Sophy through the shop, past the cubicles, to a wrought-iron spiral
staircase painted gold. ‘We’ll go up to the atelier.’
The atally whaty?
Sophy felt her cheeks flame as she realised that she’d said it out
loud, but, to his credit, Freddy didn’t laugh at her gaucheness but
gave her a kind, comforting sort of smile. ‘The atelier. It’s where
they do the fittings and keep the wedding dresses and expensive
gowns,’ he explained.
Sophy wound her way up the stairs, which opened out onto a
beautiful room. No, it wasn’t anything as mundane as a room. It was
a salon. A gilt-edged salon. Her feet in her knock-off trainers sank
into the softest, plushest cream carpet. Up here, closer to heaven, it
smelled even more glorious: of roses and geraniums and sheer,
understated luxury.
Of course there were more dresses. Wedding dresses, Freddy had
said. Their colours ranged from the delicate white of snowdrops to
the buttery richness of clotted cream and the dull gold of the old
one-pound coins. They were made from lace and satin and silk and
fabrics that Sophy could only guess at: organza, shantung,
georgette, taffeta … Then she was sidetracked by a glimpse of an
anteroom full of the most elegant gowns; hanging there was a pale
blue Grecian-inspired dress, intricate beadwork dancing across the
fabric.
 She turned her attention back to the main room, then wished she
hadn’t. There was a raised circular platform where she supposed
brides and the sort of women who bought beautiful vintage gowns
could admire their own reflection, because they were surrounded on
all sides by mirrors. Sophy kept catching glimpses of herself, and she
looked as flustered and disconcerted as she felt.
Sophy was realistic about her own utter ordinariness. If it weren’t
for her red hair, nobody would ever be able to pick her out of a
police line-up; not even if they’d witnessed her committing all sorts
of horrific crimes. She was average height, average build; like every
other woman she knew she fought a near-daily battle between her
dream of dropping a dress size and her love of carbs; and she had
all the usual features, which sat in the right place on her face. She
liked her blue eyes, courtesy of Johnno, and her full lips, courtesy of
her mother. She didn’t like the anxious little furrow between her
eyes, which seemed to be a permanent feature these days.
Everything else was quite indistinguishable, literally. If Sophy didn’t
use mascara and an eyebrow pencil, it was impossible to tell that
she had actual eyelashes and eyebrows.
She really didn’t belong in this place with these people.
Because, like downstairs, there were sofas in the centre of the
room; these were cream and gold, and sitting on one of them were
two more women in chic black dresses who looked like Hollywood
goddesses imported straight from the silver screen. Across from
them was a ridiculously handsome man, long of limb, floppy of hair,
jutting of cheekbone, wearing an exquisitely cut light grey tweed suit
with a perfect pink pocket square. He was tapping away at his
phone. Sitting next to him on a powder blue satin cushion was a
very grumpy-looking, black French bulldog.
‘Oh my God,’ Sophy muttered under her breath. She wasn’t just
miles out of her comfort zone. She was continents away from her
comfort zone. The ridiculously handsome man raised his head, as if
he’d heard her anguished aside. He was even more ridiculously
handsome face-on. Then he very slowly and deliberately winked at
Sophy and her nerves were momentarily swept away by a fluttering
feel of a very different kind.
‘You’re fine,’ Freddy assured Sophy in a low voice, which was very
sweet of him – but absolutely untrue. Phoebe had appeared at the
top of the stairs, all ready to give Sophy another flinty look. Her
bewitching green eyes (of course she would have bewitching green
eyes) lingered on the patch of jumpsuit where Sophy had managed
to spill a tiny drop of coffee earlier. ‘Let me introduce you to
everyone.’
‘Everyone’ turned out to be Chloe and Anita, the other sales
associates. Chloe was tiny and blonde and Anita was tiny and dark
and, though both of them were unfailingly polite, neither of them
were exactly friendly.
‘And you’ve met Phoebe,’ Freddy reminded Sophy. Not like Sophy
was likely to forget it when Phoebe’s gaze kept resting on her with
an expression that flickered from disbelief to faint amusement.
Someone should tell Phoebe that she had the worst poker face ever.
‘But you haven’t met Charles,’ said Phoebe, and she actually
cracked a genuine, warm smile as she glanced at him. ‘He sources
all our jewellery and some of our high-end pieces.’
It was Charles’s turn to look Sophy up and down. Not in an
unfriendly way – there was something warm and welcoming about
his gaze – but more as if he were assessing the raw material, seeing
right down to her bones. Sophy wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
If possible, it made her even more flustered than she’d already
been. Then he stood up, unfolding his long length from the sofa so
Sophy had to look up at him – he was well over six foot – and took
the few steps to where she was cowering. She held out her hand,
expecting that he probably wanted to shake it, but instead he raised
it to his mouth so he could kiss it. It was a very suave, very
practised move, but it still made Sophy feel a little swoony.
‘Enchantée,’ he murmured against her skin. Then her hand was back
in her custody and Charles gave her one brief but charming smile
before he sat down again.
Obviously gay, Sophy thought with a pang of regret. No man wore
a suit that exquisitely tailored, had cheekbones sharp enough to cut
glass and murmured something in French instead of ‘pleased to
meet you’, and was straight. Sadly.
‘Last, but not at all least, is Coco Chanel,’ Freddy said, and the
French bulldog gave Sophy the most withering look of all. She had
huge ears and, instead of a collar, a pearl necklace circled her thick
neck. ‘She’s the brains of the operation. And of course, everyone –
this is Sophy, Johnno’s daughter. Our new sales associate.’
‘Oh no! There’s no need for… I mean, I’m just helping out in a
temporary way to save up money to go to Australia,’ Sophy
explained. She made a wringing motion with her hands. ‘I’m happy
to muck in.’
‘Johnno says Sophy has got over ten years’ experience in retail
fashion and we’re very lucky to have her,’ Freddy said, digging a
none-too-gentle finger between Sophy’s shoulder- blades. ‘I know
she’ll be an asset.’
Nobody else seemed sure about that, including Sophy herself.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of unpleasantness. They all
trooped back downstairs, Freddy left and, when Sophy asked Phoebe
what she could help with, she was directed down to a windowless
basement, where she spent the rest of the day packing up inferior
vintage garments, including several boxes of boiled-wool cardigans
that smelled of wet dog, to be sent off for recycling.
These clothes were absolutely nothing like the dresses being sold
in the shop and Sophy was pretty sure, even odds, that – just as she
had feared – someone had died in one of the garments she was
gingerly picking through. Maybe up to four or five someones.
She took a measly half-hour for lunch at one, though Phoebe
acted as if she couldn’t believe Sophy’s audacity at wanting to take
thirty minutes to grab a sandwich and think hard about her recent
life decisions. Mind you, that was nothing compared to Phoebe’s
incredulity when Sophy offered to take over in the shop when she
went on her own lunch.
‘You can’t do that,’ Phoebe said coldly. ‘You don’t know anything
about vintage or our customers or… No. Back to the basement with
you.’
Sophy spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through more dead
people’s clothes (some of them were really, really whiffy) and it
wasn’t until six o’clock that she was released from her pongy
purgatory by Phoebe. ‘Oh, you’re still here?’ she said, feigning
surprise, as she appeared at the top of the basement stairs. ‘I’d
completely forgotten about you. We’re closing now, unless you
wanted to put in some overtime.’
‘I really don’t,’ Sophy said, gathering up her bag and jacket.
She was still fuming about Phoebe and her snotty, snooty attitude
when she got off the tube at Hendon Central. Her misery was
compounded when she reached into her bag for her phone and saw
she had a message from Egan, her ex.
Loads of your stuff is still here and you owe me £323 for your
outstanding share of the bills. He was obviously not missing her,
Sophy thought as she walked the short distance back to her mum’s
and the little three-bed house that Sophy at twenty-one had been so
pleased to leave for a houseshare in Manor House with a couple of
friends. Now Anjula and Kate were both married, had a child apiece
and had gone from London to green and leafy places where it was
possible to buy a small house without having to sell both kidneys.
Whereas Sophy was right back where she started: living with her
mum and feeling that she really hadn’t achieved anything since the
days when she was a sulky teenager skulking in her room and
dreaming about all the adventures she’d have when she was a
proper grown-up.
Now she was the big three-oh and it felt like, apart from the odd
mini-break, she hadn’t had a single adventure. No wonder it was
hard to put a smile on her face as she opened the front door.
Caroline and Mike were in the kitchen and there was something
lovely and garlicky and herby cooking. They were standing over the
hob with their heads together, laughing about something, but both
looked round when Sophy dropped her keys on the hall table and
padded down the hall towards them.
‘How did it go, love?’ Caroline asked, her pretty, pale face flushed
from slaving over a hot stove.
‘Yes, hard day at the office?’ Mike added.
Despite the whole thing about her childhood bedroom being
turned into a home spa, they’d welcomed Sophy back, though they’d
got used to having the place to themselves. Maybe that was why
Sophy felt as if she was intruding. She also mourned her
independence. She’d spent five years living in various houseshares
with various friends. Then she’d lived with Egan for four years and
now she was back in Hendon. Though she tried to be cheerful and
put a brave face on it, there were times, like right now, when all
Sophy wanted to do was lie on the beige tufted-wool carpet, hug
Lollipop, her mother’s cat, to her chest and cry and cry and cry.
Instead she tried to make her smile look convincing. Also, Lollipop
wasn’t much of a hugger. ‘Yeah, it was great,’ Sophy said with as
much enthusiasm as she could muster, which wasn’t very much. ‘I’m
quite tired.’
‘Well, you would be, being on your feet all day again.’ Caroline
nodded, scanning her daughter and seeming to miss nothing, from
the shadows under Sophy’s eyes to the way she shuffled from side
to side because her feet were throbbing in her knock-off designer
trainers. ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Why don’t you go into
the lounge and I’ll do you a tray. Special treat.’
It was a very special treat. Caroline had a very dim view of people
eating in the lounge. If Sophy wanted a bowl of microwave popcorn
as they watched a movie, her mother would moan about getting
popcorn kernels down the side of the sofa and how it would attract
mice.
‘Actually, Mum, I really need a bath. I’m covered in the stench of
dead people. Can I take a raincheck on dinner?’
It wasn’t until Sophy was in the bathroom, door locked and taps
running, that she let herself do what she’d wanted to do since
approximately ten o’clock that morning. She burst into tears.
She only stopped crying when she was finally submerged in rose-
scented bubbles and realised that she could stop a good third of her
current agony by simply not turning up at The Vintage Dress Shop
the next day.
 Chapter Three

It wasn’t that anything looked brighter the next day. On the

contrary, the sky was as grey and overcast as Sophy’s mood when
she walked to the tube station for another eight hours toiling at the
coalface of retro fashion. It also hadn’t helped that she’d woken up
to a WhatsApp message from her old schoolfriend Radha, now living
the sunny expat life in Sydney. ‘Hurry up and get here soon, Soph!
Surf’s waiting!’ It was accompanied by a photo of Radha on a sandy
beach, her tan and eyes glowing, as the sun set spectacularly in the
background.
Sophy wanted the glowing tan (though she wasn’t sure that her
milk-white skin possessed even trace amounts of melanin) and the
spectacular sunsets. Although she was going to start her new
Australian life at her grandparents’ sheep station in Southern
Australia, Sophy was definitely considering relocating to Sydney after
that. She’d have Radha to show her the ropes and she couldn’t wait
to sign up for surf lessons from some chiselled, tousle-haired surfie
who looked like one of the Hemsworth brothers. Then she’d
remembered that she couldn’t pay the airfare to Australia in
chocolate buttons. She needed money. And that was why she was
going to turn up for her second day at The Vintage Dress Shop, and
not let the horrible Phoebe scare her away. She was also going to
turn up because she wasn’t a quitter – but oh, how Sophy longed to
be a quitter!
To cheer herself up when she got to Primrose Hill half an hour
later, Sophy stopped at a charming little bakery for a coffee to go
and a flaky pastry. The astronomical price of these two items made
her feel a lot like crying again. Then, her feet dragging with every
step, she made her way to the shop.

Sophy took a deep breath, pulled back her shoulders and opened
the door with a bright smile on her face. ‘Good morning, everyone!’
‘Everyone’ was Anita, who mumbled something that might have
been ‘Good morning’ back, and Phoebe, who was sitting behind the
ocean-liner desk, like she was sitting on a throne, and not bothering
to dial down her furious expression.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
‘I’m here to work, just like you,’ Sophy said evenly, though she felt
pretty bloody far from even. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘Do I have a problem?’ Phoebe echoed incredulously. She rose
gracefully to her feet, so she could stand there with her hands on
her hips. ‘Yes, I have a problem. Can’t you read?’
As accusations went that was pretty out there. Of course Sophy
could read. Then she realised that Phoebe was pointing at a sign
with one perfectly manicured red nail.
Food and drink are forbidden on these premises by express order
of The Management.
‘What? I can’t even have a cup of tea every couple of hours?
There is a thing called workers’ rights, Phoe—’
‘No food or drink anywhere near the dresses,’ Phoebe clarified
sharply. ‘If you must eat or drink, then you’ll have to do it in the
back.’
Sophy scurried past Phoebe to get to the office at the back of the
shop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been made to feel
no bigger or better than a … a … a dung beetle. It was probably the
time when she’d been hauled in front of her headmistress, aged
twelve, after she’d been caught red-handed sticking a wad of
discarded chewing gum under her desk in a biology lesson.
 She wasn’t twelve now, she was a grown woman; but Phoebe had
a way of looking at Sophy like she wasn’t fit to share the same air.
Beatrice was in the back office. She was a slightly less
intimidating version of Chloe and Anita. She had the same uniform
of a little black dress and heels, but at least she knew how to smile
and whisper, ‘Don’t worry about Phoebe. She’s just very protective of
the dresses. We have a little table and chairs outside; do you want
to have your coffee there?’
Through a set of French doors there was a tiny little terrace with
a wrought-iron table and chairs that overlooked the Regent’s Canal
with its brightly painted moored barges. It must be lovely to sit out
there when it was sunny. It was still lovely, though somewhat cold,
to sit out there on a grey March morning and wolf down her
croissant and gulp the coffee, even if they tasted like ashes and
dishwater now.
As days went, it wasn’t as bad as her first day had been. There
was no more sorting through the clothes of the recently deceased.
Sophy spent most of the day in the back office with Beatrice, who
explained their inventory system, which felt like slightly familiar
territory.
When Beatrice took an early lunch Sophy did try to venture out
onto the shop floor, just so she could start familiarising herself with
the stock. Everything was arranged by colour; but where did sizing
come into it? What were the price points? How was she meant to
know which decade a dress was from?
As if she’d surreptitiously put a tracking device on her, as soon as
Sophy approached the rails of blue dresses, Anita watching warily
from the wings, Phoebe was suddenly beetling down the spiral
staircase. Sophy didn’t know how anyone could negotiate a spiral
staircase so quickly and in such high heels.
‘It all right,’ Sophy assured her. ‘I washed my hands. Twice!’
‘Have you really?’ Phoebe’s voice fairly dripped with scepticism
and, though she was a proper grown-up, Sophy found herself
holding out her hands for the other woman’s inspection. Then she
realised what she was doing and snatched them back.
‘I appreciate that whole world of vintage fashion might be new to
me but I do have many years of retail experience,’ Sophy said hotly.
It was her turn to stand there with her hands on her hips, to the
consternation of two women who had suddenly entered the shop.
Sophy turned to them with a smile that was very slightly manic.
‘Hello! Welcome to The Vintage Dress Shop. Do have a look around,
and give me a yell if you need any assistance.’
Sophy wasn’t sure but she thought she heard Phoebe growl with
irritation at her jaunty greeting; though the growl could also have
come from Coco Chanel, who’d come lumbering down the stairs to
see what all the fuss was about. Even the shop dog had some
serious attitude.
‘As you said, you have absolutely no experience of vintage
fashion.’ Phoebe sucked in an angry breath. ‘I even heard you say to
Beatrice that you thought people might have died in our dresses…’
The two women who’d entered swiftly exited at that.
‘It was a joke,’ Sophy said, but she was determined not to get
sidetracked from what she wanted to say. Or rather to give Phoebe
The Terrible some home truths. ‘Anyway, I worked at Belle Girl for
the last ten years and for the last five I was a senior sales associate
at the Oxford Street store.’
‘Senior just means that you’d been there longer than anyone else,’
Phoebe pointed out, like that was nothing to be impressed about. It
was also perilously close to the truth.
‘It was a very big store. It was the flagship store!’
‘Hasn’t Belle Girl just gone into administration?’ Phoebe arched
one already perfectly arched eyebrow, as if she suspected that
Sophy was personally responsible for the entire chain of two
hundred shops going bust.
‘It’s a very challenging retail landscape and we were taken over
by a venture capitalist who was more interested in stripping back our
costs than investing in—’
‘And it was a fast fashion chain. T-shirts for a fiver, dresses for ten
pounds made by workers in the developing world who toiled away in
appalling conditions and barely earned enough money to feed their
families. Plus, I’m sure a large percentage of your stock probably
ended up as landfill,’ Phoebe continued, and she had a good point.
Several very good points that Sophy herself had agonised over,
especially after seeing a documentary on BBC2 shortly after they’d
had to dump an entire range because the design department had
plagiarised the work of an up-and-coming designer who’d put them
on blast on social media.
‘We were in discussions about doing a range of sustainable
clothing,’ she said weakly because none of the bad things about high
street fashion were in Sophy’s control. So it wasn’t really her fault
that she’d been part of the problem rather than part of the situation,
whereas…
‘Vintage fashion is the ultimate sustainable clothing,’ Anita piped
up from behind the desk, where she’d been all but cowering until
now. ‘A lot of our stock is over seventy, eighty years old and still
wearable. It blows my mind sometimes. Although, you have to be
careful when you wear some vintage pieces because modern
antiperspirants can rot the armholes like nobody’s business.’
‘We are getting way off-track here,’ Sophy gritted. ‘I’m here to
work, not to tread on anyone’s toes, so let me work. Give me a crash
course in vintage fashion. At least let me have a look at the stock.’
She moved towards the stairs, because she loved a pretty dress
as much as the next person and she was dying to have a good
rummage through all the wedding dresses and posh, posh frocks
upstairs. Alas, she didn’t even make it up the first step, because
suddenly both Phoebe and Coco Chanel were physically blocking her
from heading up to the atelier.
‘I’m sorry,’ Phoebe said in a tone that suggested that she wasn’t
even a little bit sorry, ‘but there are hundreds of thousands of
pounds of stock in the atelier and we don’t have any appointments
booked, so there’s no need for you to be up there. If you want to be
helpful, you can make some coffee – as long as you don’t bring it
out on the shop floor.’
Sophy retired to the tiny kitchen and tried to ignore the pinprick
tingle of her eyes. She wasn’t going to let Phoebe reduce her to
tears. God, two months ago she wouldn’t even have let the Belle Girl
area manager, who was a terrific bully, talk to her like that. But it
had been an awful two months and she was off her game, out of her
depth and now making coffee like she was the Saturday girl.
For the rest of the day, Sophy kept out of Phoebe’s way. Anita let
her pack away some costume jewellery, but even that simple task
was explained to her like she was incapable of independent thought.
‘So, one more time, once you’ve wrapped the piece in tissue
paper, then you put it in a seal-top bag, then write a description of it
on a sticker, put the sticker on the bag and then if it’s a brooch you
put it in the drawer marked brooches and if it’s—’
‘If it’s a bracelet, then I put it in the drawer marked bracelets.
Yes, thanks Anita, if I’m not sure about anything, I’ll ask you,’ Sophy
said. It was just as well that she had all those years of retail
experience because it meant that she was an expert at hiding her
frustration, anger and sheer, teeth-grinding irritation behind a perky
smile.
Actually, it was quite nice to sit at the ocean-liner desk and get to
handle some merchandise. Especially such pretty, sparkly
merchandise. Sophy even tried on some of the big, gaudy cocktail
rings, after first checking that no one was about to rush over and tell
her off.
It was also quite fascinating to watch Phoebe and Chloe with the
customers. Only one rail-thin, expensively dressed woman with a
Chanel bag slung nonchalantly over her shoulder was granted
admittance to the atelier; everyone else was happy to look through
the second-tier downstairs dresses.
 Sophy would have asked them, if she’d been allowed to even
make eye contact, if they were shopping with a special occasion in
mind or if they had some idea of what they were looking for, but
Anita and Phoebe didn’t do any of that.
Anita was keen to impart fashion facts about any frocks the
women (and they were all women) lingered over. ‘Forties rayon with
a kick-pleat,’ she’d announce. Or, ‘Sixties minidress heavily influenced
by Paco Rabanne.’
Whereas Phoebe might know a lot about vintage fashion but she
knew sweet FA about making the customer feel like a queen. ‘Oh,
that’s a very petite cut,’ she cooed doubtfully when a young woman
took a gorgeous emerald green sheath off the rail. She might just as
well have said, ‘It’s never going to fit you, fatso.’
‘Hmmm, that’s really more of a sitting-down sort of dress. You
want to wear it to a wedding? And there’ll be a lot of dancing? Well,
it’s your decision, but that dress is eighty years old and I always
think that when people buy a vintage dress it’s more that they
become the caretaker of it rather than the owner,’ Phoebe mused,
and another woman, cheeks aflame, hurriedly put the pretty pink
fifties wiggle dress she’d been sighing over back on the rail.
Then her cheeks got even redder when Phoebe gently tutted and
put the dress where it had been originally, between a sherbet pink
and a candyfloss pink frock, not at the more shocking pink end of
the rail.
‘I’m so sorry,’ the woman trilled nervously.
‘It’s all right, no harm done,’ Phoebe said with a smile that
reminded Sophy of a shark wearing lipstick.
Did the shop even make a profit? Sophy wondered, and then she
asked herself again how the hell Johnno’s Junk had transitioned into
this fancy, fussy vintage emporium that was even more intimidating
than the time Sophy had gone into the Louis Vuitton shop on Bond
Street to buy Caroline something really special for her fiftieth
birthday. (Which had turned out to be a coin purse, because it was
all Sophy could afford.)
The day dragged on, slower than a slug on crutches. It was just
gone five and Sophy was staring at the clock on the wall, willing the
minute hand to creep closer to the six so that it would be going-
home time, when the door was suddenly flung open so violently that
it crashed back on its hinges.
A small, old women in a bright red raincoat appeared in the
doorway. ‘Can someone get the stuff out the taxi and pay the
driver?’ she demanded in a hoarse cockney accent.
‘Oh my God,’ Phoebe muttered, and was out of the door with the
petty cash tin in seconds, while the woman collapsed on one of the
sofas.
‘Make me a cuppa, Neet, I’m gasping,’ she groaned, listing to one
side like a scuppered ship.
‘Milk, two sugars?’ Anita asked timidly.
‘No milk, four sugars,’ the woman snapped with more ferocity
than Phoebe would ever be able to muster.
Sophy was pleased, and also fascinated, by this distraction. The
woman had full make-up on, though one of her false eyelashes had
come adrift and looked like a sooty-legged spider clinging to her
lower lash and her bright red lipstick had bled. Her hair, though, was
impeccable: a blue-rinsed helmet that looked as if it would remain
intact no matter the elements. In fact, it looked as if it might
withstand a nuclear attack.
‘Who’s this when she’s at home?’ the woman asked as she caught
sight of Sophy sitting bewitched behind the desk.
‘Oh, don’t worry about her, it’s only Johnno’s daughter,’ Phoebe
said as she hurried back in to the shop with her arms full of garment
bags. ‘Reenie. You promised you wouldn’t smoke but these bags
positively reek of Benson & Hedges. Oh no, and you’re not lighting
up in here. The dresses!’
 ‘Also, it’s against the law,’ Anita added as she hovered in the no-
man’s-land between shop floor and office. ‘Where did you want your
tea?’
‘Right here,’ Reenie said implacably, though she’d tucked her
cigarettes and lighter back in her voluminous black patent handbag.
Phoebe raised her eyes to the ormolu-adorned ceiling. It looked to
Sophy as if she were saying a silent prayer. ‘You try the patience of a
saint.’
‘The saints wouldn’t have me, darling,’ Reenie cackled. Sophy was
warming to her. ‘Anyhoo, I did all the alterations, but I could only let
that charmeuse wedding dress out by a quarter of an inch, if that.
She’ll have to lose at least another five pounds. And the seams on
that Jaeger were gone, darling. I did my best but it might be time to
give it a decent burial.’
Phoebe did cross herself then. ‘Oh God.’
‘Even him upstairs wouldn’t have been able to do anything with it,’
Reenie said.
Phoebe winced as Anita brought the tea in on a tray and Reenie
grabbed the mug with no regard for the pink velvet she was sitting
on. Then, once Reenie had taken a few enthusiastic slurps of tea,
Phoebe handed the garment bags over to Anita, who received them
with much reverence. Phoebe took a seat beside Reenie.
‘Now, we’re coming up to wedding season and we’re going to be
so busy and there’s a perfectly lovely room upstairs with everything
you need—’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do those stairs. They’d be the death of me.’
‘But we really need you on site,’ Phoebe persisted in the softest,
sweetest voice. She even fluttered her eyelashes, which, unlike
Reenie’s, were firmly in place. ‘It would make life so much easier for
fittings.’
‘Life isn’t easy, pet,’ Reenie said and took hold of Phoebe’s hand.
‘And your life’s about to get much harder, I’m afraid.’
Another random document with
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 Copyright, W. H. Rau.

U. S. S. Indiana.
Battleship. Twin screw. Main battery, four 13-inch, eight 8-inch and four 6-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery,
twenty 6-pounder and six 1-pounder rapid fire guns and four Gatlings. Thickness of armor 18 inches. 36 officers, 434 men.

The necessary police of the seas is recognized by all nations, and all who can afford to do so should
take a part in it. Frequent visits to foreign ports by men-of-war increase the influence and materially
assist the business consideration of citizens who may reside abroad for business purposes, and thus
directly increase the national revenue; while there is damage to our national pride when men-of-war of
other nations have to protect our citizens abroad, as has frequently happened in times of trouble, from
want of a sufficient number of ships in our navy to permit of wide distribution. There are many persons in
our large country who would be mortified and shocked at such a thing as the bombardment of New York
or of San Francisco with long-range guns—either of which events has been possible within the last ten
years. Such a proceeding would not only be humiliating to us as a nation, but would probably cause
more damage than a powerful fleet of defensive ironclads would cost to build and maintain—not to
speak of such a thing as ransom-money demanded.
There is no fear of any nation making an effectual landing upon our shores: the only danger is that
some swift and sudden blow, when we are unprepared, might cause immense damage to our great
seaboard and lake cities, which would not only cost untold millions in damage, and in the subsequent
expenditure necessary to repay the blow, but in the injury to our national pride and prestige among
nations.

MERCHANT VESSELS.

The decay of merchant shipping in our country from the proud position it held before the great Civil
War is due to many causes, chief among which is the substitution of iron for wood, and steam for sails.
There are very many people living, and still active, who remember the time when the whole of the
passenger traffic between Europe and the United States was in the hands of Americans—for the reason
that their ships were more staunch, more comfortable, and very much faster, while their seamen were
more enterprising. The same was the case with the China trade; the American clippers carried all before
them: while, in the race to the Pacific, in the early days of California, none could compare with our
vessels in rapidity and the comfort of passage.
For some years those interested in such matters almost despaired; but there is a brighter outlook
ahead now. The great lake fleet of steamers and sailing vessels has vastly increased. The tonnage
passing through the Sault de Ste. Marie is really greater than our whole ocean tonnage of forty years
ago: and the improvement in the quantity and size of merchant vessels built during the last few years for
ocean service, while not keeping pace with the lake traffic, on account of foreign competition, is still very
gratifying.
We have already spoken of the ability shown by Americans, during the last few years, to produce the
best armor in the world, guns equal to any, and war-ships of the very first class, in hull and machinery.
This is all a preparation and education for taking our proper place as builders of the very best
merchant vessels. Builders could not afford the extensive apparatus and machinery necessary for such
construction unless they had been encouraged by government orders in the beginning. Such works as
those at Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, would never have constructed the largest steam-hammer in the
world, if it had not been for the encouragement afforded by government orders. Now they are prepared
to forge shafts, and other great pieces, for the largest merchant steamers, for the obtaining of which we
formerly had to send abroad.
As for plants for iron or steel ship-building, we now have many. Cramps’ establishment, in
Philadelphia, is said to be the third largest in the world—and will soon rank higher; there are other great
works for merchant vessels on the Lakes and the Mississippi, and at Newport’s News, near Hampton
Roads. After these come the works at South Boston and the different establishments at New York. The
purely naval building-yards and plants at the New York navy yard, and at Norfolk, are well known; while
the Union Iron Works at San Francisco have turned out some of the finest vessels afloat, both men of
war and merchantmen. There are also such works in Bath, Maine.
But the least effect of these great plants is shown in their production up to this time. They are not only
educational to ship and engine builders, but they foster a number of most valuable trades—such as
ship-carpenters, plumbers, copper-smiths, joiners, and many others. Above all come the naval
designers or architects. Men so trained are well paid, and are required to turn out the very highest grade
of work; and thus we are forming a force, at many points of our great country, fitted, when the time
comes (and it must soon come), to build up our sea-going mercantile marine to an equality with the
sister service on the Great Lakes, so as to enable it to carry our products abroad, and bring back the
returns, without depending upon foreign bottoms for that service. A few years ago there was no place in
this country where a young man could go to learn the business of designing and building iron vessels—
now there are many such places—and they are constantly increasing in number.

MACHINERY.

Not the least wonder of our day is the improvement in the machinery of steam-vessels of all kinds.
The engineer’s department of a first-class cruiser or battle-ship is a bewildering and wonderful sight to
one not accustomed to it. The complicated engines, with their numerous cylinders, which use the steam
over and over, seem almost too delicate, and too like a fancy creation, to be capable of driving the
propellers at such a rate as they do. Instead of the rude levers of former days, these giant machines are
managed by the turning of wheels which look like playthings as compared with the forces which they
control so easily.
The boilers not only serve to drive the main engines, but there are others devoted to different uses;
among which the principal are the distilling of salt into fresh water, and thus giving an abundant supply
of one of the very first necessaries of life, and rendering the vessel and the crew independent of the
shore in that respect. It is also most conducive to health; for much of the disease found on ship-board,
within even recent times, was due to the character of the water obtained from the shore. Then there are
the electric dynamos, and their boilers which must run when the ship is at anchor, as well as when she
is under weigh; while her steam steering-gear, when in motion, renders her guidance very easy in the
hands of one man, when four or six would be required at the wheels of vessels in the old days.
 U. S. S. Baltimore.
Protected cruiser. Twin screw. Main battery, four 8-inch and six 6-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery, four 6-
pounder, two 3-pounder and two 1-pounder rapid fire guns, four Hotchkiss revolving cannons and two Gatlings. Thickness of
protective deck, 4 inches on slope, 2¹⁄₂ on the flat. 36 officers, 350 men.

As for war-ships, the vessel is under complete control of one man, the Captain, who, with the
helmsmen, occupies the fighting-tower. He is informed by indicators of what is going on all over the
great craft below him, and his orders to the engineers, to the gun divisions, and to all other parts, are
transmitted in the same way. But ordinary speaking-tubes and such matters are not forgotten, in case
hostile shot should destroy the other means of communication; while, far below the water-line, is the old-
fashioned steering-wheel, secure from shot or shell, to be used in case the more delicate and more
exposed steering-gear should be shot away. The number of trained and experienced men which such a
complicated machine as a modern war-ship or first-class passenger vessel requires, is very great. There
is less need for old-fashioned sailors—who could go aloft in any weather to reef and furl—but there is
seamanship still required to navigate, to heave the lead, to man and manage boats, and many other
things, beside the mere drilling and working of artillery and small arms. It requires some training even to
be able to take care of one’s self in bad weather, especially in a large ship, where places to hold on are
far apart. Of course, in a modern ship the engineer’s force, as well as those immediately in charge of
dynamos, of electric lights, and of search-lights, comprise a much larger proportion of the whole ship’s
company than in former times; and the vigilance, experience, and foresight which have to be displayed
in the depths of the vessel is equal to that required upon the spar-deck and bridge.

OFFICERS AND MEN.

Now that our administrations, of both political parties, have for some years committed themselves to a
gradual increase of our navy, to consist of the very newest ships and guns, it may be safely supposed
that in a few years we shall have a respectable navy, in point of numbers, as it is now in point of quality.
After all, the best ships are of no use without the presence of men trained to manage them, and to
conduct successfully the well-being and discipline of a large number of people. In a first-class man-of-
war, the elements may be compared to a civil organization in this way: the Captain is the Mayor, except
that he has much more power and authority than most mayors; the Lieutenants are the executive and
police officers, as well as leaders in battle; the Junior officers are in training for such positions. The
Marine officer and his men represent the militia, adding police duties; and the medical staff looks out for
the general health. Then there is the Paymaster and his clerk, who attend to financial matters of all
kinds; the engineer corps, which keeps the whole thing going, and lights as well as propels the great
machine. Lastly, there is a Chaplain, who not only attends to divine service (as required by the Articles
of War), but in many ways makes his influence known. The subdivision of duties on board a man-of-war
often makes landsmen wonder whether such a course is necessary; but the experience of many
generations teaches that it is.

NAVAL ACADEMY.

It may be of interest to our readers to know something about the way in which the officers of the navy
are trained for their important duties. For many years after the foundation of the navy, boys of tender
years were appointed midshipmen through the influence of friends of the President or the Secretary of
the Navy. They then were sent to sea at once, in a cruising man-of-war, and, after five or six years, went
to a naval school, as it was called, for a few months. At the end of six years they became passed-
midshipmen, if found able to pass a simple examination; after which they had to wait for vacancies in the
list above them to become lieutenants, commanders, and captains. The latter was, up to the time of the
late civil war, the highest grade in the navy, and corresponded in rank with colonel in the army. Those
officers who commanded squadrons or stations were, by courtesy, termed commodores. The manner of
education of the young officers who were destined to high command in the navy had long been felt to be
faulty, although under it such officers had been reared as Farragut and Rowan, Porter, and John
Rodgers; and it was thought that a school something on the lines of West Point, which had long existed
for the army, would be of benefit to the service and to the country. About this time a change took place in
the manner of appointment of naval cadets, and the Congressmen of the various States had them put in
their hands, with a limited number left in the hands of the President, who was apt to bestow them on the
sons of worthy officers of the army or navy who had died in the service. This is the usual practice at
present. Representatives are notified when an appointment falls due in their district, and some
Congressmen put such appointments up for public competition among the lads of proper age and
health, who, on going to the Naval Academy to enter, have to pass a close physical examination, as well
as one in elementary branches of learning. Many are rejected, from one cause or another, and the
custom has arisen of appointing an alternate, who may be examined for the position if the first one fails,
either physically or mentally. Those who are successful in the examination receive $500 a year, during
their academic course, which is an ample sum for their support at the school. During the course many
drop out; some from ill conduct; some from inability to follow the course; and some few from failure of
health; although the healthy regimen and good hours often improve boys who are a little delicate or
backward. But it must be remembered that it is useless for any lad who is thoroughly lazy and
unambitious to enter there, as he is sure to be weeded out. Many classes do not graduate more than
half of their original members.
The Naval Academy, at Annapolis, Maryland, was founded in 1845, through the enlightened policy of
Mr. Bancroft, the celebrated historian, who was then the Secretary of the Navy, under President Polk.
Commander Buchanan (who was afterwards Admiral Buchanan of the Confederate Navy) was the first
officer in charge.
The site of the Academy was secured by the transfer from the War to the Navy Department of Fort
Severn and its surroundings, one of the defences of Annapolis, at the mouth of the Severn river, near its
entrance into Chesapeake bay, and with plenty of water for naval work. In 1849 a Board was organized
to make regulations which were to conform, as much as possible, to those of the Military Academy at
West Point. In 1851 the course of study was fixed at four years, with annual examinations, and summer
cruises in practice ships to familiarize the lads with sea duties. There was also a board of visitors, to be
appointed by the President, who reported, annually, upon the annual examinations and the general
condition and requirements of the school. This board consisted of Senators and citizens distinguished
for their acquirements in science, as well as officers of different corps of the Navy.
Owing to the Civil War the school was transferred, in 1861, to Newport, Rhode Island, where it
remained until 1865, when it was returned to Annapolis. The grounds have been greatly enlarged and
improvements of every kind made, until now it is one of the most beautiful and perfect establishments in
the world. There is no place in Europe, devoted to naval training, which has anything like the space, the
buildings and material, and the equable climate which the Annapolis school possesses. Although the
country is flat, the fine expanses of water, and the wealth of foliage, give the situation great attractions,
while the old and historic town of Annapolis, so connected with the Colonial period and the Revolution,
retains its curious plan, and its old church, court-house, and residences, much as they were when
Washington resigned his commission.
When the school was re-established at Annapolis the course of studies was rearranged to suit the
advance in such matters as steam, gunnery, and mathematics—and has remained much the same ever
since—only adopting improved methods as the occasion arose.
The course of instruction is a long one—too long to be given here, but we may mention some of the
studies pursued. There are seamanship and naval construction, naval tactics, practical exercises,
signals, swimming, gymnastics, etc., ordnance and gunnery, including infantry tactics, field-artillery and
boat-howitzer exercise, great guns, mortar practice, and fencing; mathematics up to the calculus; steam
engineering, with practical exercise, and the theory, fabrication, and designing of steam engines;
astronomy, navigation, and surveying; physics and chemistry; mechanics, and applied mathematics, and
theoretical naval architecture; English studies, and history and law; French and Spanish; drawing and
chart-making; and other kindred studies.
Any one who shows great aptitude is put into the engineering branch, and enters the Engineer Corps;
others enter the Marine Corps, as second lieutenants; and sometimes, when there are no vacancies,
those who graduate honorably, although at the foot of their class, are enabled, by Act of Congress, to
take an “honorable discharge” from the service, with a year’s pay.
When a lad succeeds in passing the examination and entering the Naval Academy, he is required to
sign articles which bind him to serve in the Navy eight years, including his time at the Academy, unless
sooner discharged. The system of examination comprises monthly, semi-annual, and annual
examinations, which are conducted in writing, the members of a class all receiving the same questions.
If a cadet fails to pass the semi-annual or annual examinations he is dropped.
With the theoretical studies there are the sail, spar, boat, gun, and small-arm drills, all of which, with
good conduct, go to make up the total of “marks” of the cadet. Misconduct or insubordination leads to
the receipt of “demerits,” which may become so numerous as to prevent a cadet from continuing at the
Academy, even when distinguished in his studies. Some of the same officers who have charge of the
cadets during the scholastic year are detailed for the practice ships during the summer cruise, so that
they have complete knowledge of the acquirements of their pupils. The summer cruise of the cadets at
Annapolis corresponds to the encampment of the West Point cadets; being almost entirely practical in
its nature. The cadet engineer class, instead of a long voyage, go on board a practice steamer, and visit
navy-yards, and ship-yards, rolling-mills, foundries, machine-shops, etc., where practical illustration may
be had of a part of their studies. The academic grounds, inside the walls, consist of fifty acres, while
outside there are one hundred acres more. On this fine property there are a great number of buildings,
for quarters, mess-halls, class rooms, armory, steam-building, etc., beside an observatory, all of which
are amply provided with models and apparatus. There is a fine library, contained in a lovely old house
formerly inhabited by the governor of Maryland; a chapel; and numbers of houses for officers’ quarters.
There is also a hospital, and, on the outlaying land one of greater size, which is used in epidemics, and
for the seamen of the practice-ships, and the marines of the guard. At large and convenient docks upon
the Severn are moored the practice ships, steamers, steam and sailing launches, and cutters, for the
use and instruction of the cadets. The average number of these is about two hundred, and they are, as
a rule, exceedingly well-trained in battalion drill, so that a dress-parade during the evenings of the spring
and fall months, with the faultless drill and evolutions, and the music afforded by the fine band, never
fails to attract crowds of strangers, as well as the town’s people and officers’ families.

MARINE CORPS.

It is proper, at this point, to give some account of the United States Marine Corps, of which many
persons not familiar with naval affairs have a very vague idea.
They are sea-soldiers, or soldiers enlisted for service either on shore or on board ships-of-war, and
who are known as Marines, although all sea-going persons are really marines.
 Most powers which possess navies have also marines, France being an exception. They constitute a
separate military body from the seamen and other enlisted men of a war-ship, and are trained to fight
either as infantry or as artillerists, and especially for participation in naval engagements. They are
organized, clothed and equipped very much like soldiers of the army, and their preliminary instruction is
the same. In fact, some of their very best service has been on shore; while their being accustomed to
the sea makes them doubly valuable for expeditions by water. Their headquarters, barracks and depots
are on shore, and from them details are made when required for service on shipboard. These
detachments vary in size with the ship, from a dozen men under a sergeant to a hundred under one or
more commissioned officers.
The history of sea-soldiers is very ancient, dating back to at least five centuries before the Christian
Era, when there was a class of soldiers which constituted the fighting men of a war-ship, while an
entirely different class navigated, managing the oars and sails. Some of the most gallant acts which
have distinguished our own navy have been performed by the marines, who have served without
blemish in every quarter of the world, and in all the wars in which we have been engaged. The marines
have generally manned some of the broadside guns whenever hard fighting was going on, and have
always been relied upon under the most desperate circumstances; nor have they failed to justify that
reliance.

U. S. S. Texas.
Battleship. Twin screw. Main battery, two 12-inch and six 6-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery, twelve 6-pounder
and six 1-pounder rapid fire guns, one Hotchkiss revolving cannon and two Gatlings. Thickness of armor 12 inches. 30
officers, 362 men.

Our own Congress has nineteen times, by joint resolution, tendered thanks to the marines for their
gallant behavior, and some of the greatest generals have added their tributes to those of naval
commanders. Napoleon Bonaparte, when viewing the marines of the English ship Bellerophon, where
he took refuge after his downfall, exclaimed: “What might not be done with a hundred thousand such
men?” General Winfield Scott, when commanding in the Mexican War, said of our marines that he “put
them where the heaviest work was to be accomplished, and had never found his confidence misplaced.”
General Grant, on the quarter-deck of the Vandalia, which man-of-war was taking him to Egypt, on his
voyage round the world, remarked of the marines at their exercise, that they were “as fine soldiers as he
had ever seen.”
In our own service the marine corps is as ancient as the navy. In Revolutionary days they wore green
coats with white facings, but their uniform has from time to time become more and more assimilated with
that of the infantry of the army.

REVENUE MARINE.

Another branch of the public service connected with the sea is the Revenue Marine, of which very
little is known outside of maritime States, although it is one of the most important and hard-working
branches.
This sea force was organized in 1790, more than a century ago, for the protection of the revenues of
the General Government from duties upon imports. The Act of Congress provided for the building and
equipping of the revenue cutters, “to be officered and manned by one master and not more than three
mates, who should be appointed by the President, and be deemed officers of the customs.”
This was done under the administration of Alexander Hamilton, then Secretary of the Treasury, and
one of the shining lights of our early days as a nation. He suggested giving the officers military or naval
rank, “which,” he added, “will not only induce fit men to engage, but attach them to their duties by a nicer
sense of honor.”
The first vessels built for this service were brigs or schooners, and they were commanded by
excellent officers and sailors, who were proud of their position. They had not only to look after the
collection of the revenue from imports, but to preserve order in ports, and had many other onerous
duties. They had to make returns of all vessels boarded, as well as any special duties which the
Secretary of the Treasury might direct. They were to succor vessels in distress—and, to this day, the
Revenue vessels cruise on our coasts during the very worst winter weather to succor vessels, and many
a cargo, as well as many lives, have been saved by their exertions.
Any one, even those who are not familiar with ships, can tell a revenue vessel by the flag she carries
—because, while the union is the same as in other flags of the United States, the stripes run vertically
instead of horizontally.
Formerly the revenue cutters were almost always of schooner rig, and generally very neat and trim,
and very beautiful and picturesque vessels, especially under sail, but at present and for many years
past, the “Cutters” are able sea-going steamers. In former days the revenue cutters, in addition to the
protection afforded to commerce, had to attend to the placing of buoys, and the supply of lighthouses,
under the direction of Collectors of Customs of districts. But in 1852 the present Light House Board was
established—and special vessels devoted to that service, than which there is none better in the world.
The Revenue Marine has often taken part with the Navy in operations of various kind, such as the War
of 1812; the Florida War; the Mexican War; the Paraguay Expedition; the Civil War; the Seal Fishery
patrol, and numerous other occasions, giving the best of service cheerfully and promptly.
As regards appointment of officers in the Revenue Marine, we may say that the service is entirely
separate from the Navy, and controlled by the Treasury Department. This Department appoints cadets,
not less than eighteen and not more than twenty-five years of age, who may be promoted to third
lieutenants after two years’ service, and after having passed a satisfactory examination. This takes
appointments out of the line of personal or political preference. The cadets are first sent on a practice
cruise at sea in a revenue cutter, and then trained in practical seamanship and navigation, and during
the winter study mathematics and other things necessary to fit them for their duties. If successful in
passing as third lieutenants they have a reasonable chance of rising to Captain. Revenue cutters,
beside their ordinary duty, are often called upon to make special cruises in search of missing vessels, or
to enforce neutrality laws when expeditions may be fitting in our ports against neighboring and friendly
governments. Since Alaska has been acquired some of the most remarkable cruises have been made in
Arctic waters, not only for the succor of whalers, but for the protection of the natives from smugglers
who would try to introduce poisonous spirits. Officers of the revenue service are also detailed as
inspectors and assistant inspectors of life-saving stations, in which capacity they have done excellent
service, and added much to the value of that noble branch of our public work.
The whole of the Revenue Marine Service is in charge of a chief, called the Chief of the Revenue
Marine, in the Treasury Department, at Washington, forming a separate bureau. This chief must be a
man of ability, for he has great responsibility, and must have legal and scholarly attainments in order to
be able to meet all the calls upon him. In regard to nautical matters he is supposed to avail himself of
the advice of competent senior officers of the service, and also as far as the personnel of the Revenue
Marine is concerned.

MARINE HOSPITAL SERVICE.

It may be of interest to many persons in the interior of our country, who are not brought in contact with
water transportation, or even with river boats of any kind, to know what is meant by the “Marine Hospital
Service,” which has existed from our earliest days as a nation, and yet has nothing in common with the
Revenue Marine, or with the Naval Service. The Naval Service has its own hospitals, and the Revenue
Marine make arrangements for their sick and wounded at proper places. The Marine Hospital Service
provides for all sick men who follow the water in the merchant service, whether they are salt water or
fresh water men, whether they are on a Mississippi steamboat, or on a vessel just arrived from a China
voyage. Its authority, under the law, dates from the year 1798, but it also provided that a tax of twenty
cents a month should be exacted from every officer and seaman for the support of hospitals. In the
following year the same provision of tax was made for the navy, and all officers and men have paid it for
nearly a hundred years; so that the Marine Hospitals and the Naval Hospitals have never cost the nation
anything, the money for their support having come purely from this personal tax. Every merchant sailor
pays that; and every naval person, from an admiral to a messenger boy, has twenty cents a month
deducted from his pay for hospital service.

U. S. S. Chicago.
Protected cruiser. Twin screw. Main battery, four 8-inch, eight 6-inch and two 5-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery,
nine 6-pounder and four 1-pounder rapid fire guns, two Hotchkiss revolving cannons and two Gatlings. Protected steel deck,
1¹⁄₂ inches. 33 officers, 376 men.

The Marine Hospital Service has of late years been more serviceable than ever, especially in the
prevention of the introduction of cholera and of yellow fever into our country.
 The organization is complete and excellent. There is a supervising Surgeon-General, who has great
powers and great responsibilities, a medical purveyor, surgeons, passed-assistant surgeons, and
assistant surgeons. These treat an immense number of cases, and not a few have lost their lives in
combating epidemics. These officers are selected by examination and entirely removed from any
politics, and are bound to go wherever they are ordered, and obey regulations.

LIGHT HOUSES.

Another interesting and most exceedingly important institution connected with naval affairs is the
United States Light House Establishment. From small beginnings this has grown to be one of the most
important administrative branches of our government, and one which, we may say with pride, reflects
the greatest honor upon us in the eyes of the world at large; for a reliable and thorough system of the
kind is a blessing and a safeguard to mariners and travelers of all nationalities.
The first light house built in the country which is now the United States of America is said to have
been that at Little Brewster Island, in Boston Harbor, Massachusetts, about 1715. Then followed others,
all supported by the Provinces in which they were placed, of course. There were by the year 1789
twenty-five light houses on the Atlantic coast, ranging from Maine to Georgia. They were supported by a
tax upon vessels which used them, and the tax was paid as part of the port dues, according to the lights
the vessel must have passed in reaching her destination. In 1789, the National Government took charge
of such matters, and the collectors of customs appointed by the President had charge of lights, and
collected the dues. The service was often unsatisfactory, and so, in May, 1838, Congress created a
Board of naval officers to determine where lights were actually needed, and to settle other points in the
same connection. This led to increased usefulness, and at last, in 1852, the Light House Board was
created by Act of Congress, which has usefully existed ever since, the result of their work being a light
house system equal to any.
The new Board consisted of three officers of the navy, three officers of the engineer corps of the army,
and three civilians, one of whom was the Secretary of the Treasury, and the remaining two persons of
high scientific attainments. Such a constitution took its members out of the pale of political appointment,
and enabled them to lay out plans which they could themselves hope to see carried into effect.
This Board divided the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, the Gulf of Mexico, the Great Lakes, and the great
western rivers into districts, to each of which an inspector, who is an officer of the navy, and an engineer,
who is an officer of the army, is assigned. These, under direction of the Board, keep up the light houses
and lights, and are charged with the discipline of the light keepers. They make constant visits and report
upon the condition of lights, and of the behavior of the keepers, so that the system is as nearly perfect
as it can be made when we consider the exposed position and solitude of many of the lights. The great
subject of light ships, of whistling buoys, of gas-lighted buoys, and other warnings to mariners, belongs
to the same subject, but would require a large book to treat them properly. Our people at large do not
appreciate the service of our light house establishment, not only on the sea coast, but on the great
rivers and lakes, because they do not see it. If they did see it, they would see what it has accomplished,
and how commerce would be hampered without it.
It is a magnificent work, and now, in our country, the immense number of lights, beacons, lightships,
buoys, and fog-signals are kept up entirely by the general government, without making any charge in
the way of light duties against ships of any country.

TRAINING SHIPS.

Naval Training Ships, for the education of apprentices, are to be noticed in connection with other
matters treated of in this chapter. This was begun at least fifty years ago, when it was thought to be
proper to correct the large proportion of foreign seamen in our Navy by training native-born boys to man
our squadrons. Many boys were, under the law then enacted, enlisted to serve between the ages of
thirteen and twenty-one, and to be brought up as naval sailors. For a time things went very well. A large
number of boys became excellent seamen and petty officers before they arrived at twenty-one. But
many boys enlisted under the idea that the apprentices were to be made midshipmen, and, as that did
not take place, great dissatisfaction occurred, and the system was gradually broken up.
In 1863 a renewed attempt was made at establishing a Naval Apprentice System, and a great deal of
labor of brain was spent by officers upon it. There was success, but it was hampered very much by the
fact that all the boys put in the apprentice ships took away from the number of men allowed by law to
man cruising vessels of the Navy. Still, the officers persevered, and there is now, at New York, and
Newport, a well established naval apprentice system, which graduates many lads of intelligence and
sufficient education to make them valuable persons on board our modern men-of-war, when they
become petty officers.
The Naval Training Ships for Apprentices must not be confounded with the Training Ships belonging
to Philadelphia and to New York and Boston, which have been in successful operation for some years.
These vessels are loaned by the government to the cities which pay the expense of their maintenances,
except the salaries of the officers, who are detailed from the Navy. The “School Ships,” as these are
commonly called, are sailing vessels of the old type, without their guns, so that they are more
comfortable; and every effort is made to preserve the health of the boys who are received. These ships
make—as a general rule—two voyages in the year. One is to Europe, in summer, and one to the West
Indies in the winter. In the Philadelphia ship there are generally about eighty or ninety boys, with a
sufficient number of old sailors to teach them how to pull and haul. Some of the graduates of this ship,
after two years’ service and study, have obtained very good berths in merchant vessels; and are in a fair
way to being masters. But it all depends upon themselves and how much they are really worth.

U. S. S. Oregon.
Battleship. Twin screw. Main battery, four 13-inch, eight 8-inch and four 6-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery,
twenty 6-pounder and six 1-pounder rapid fire guns and four Gatlings. Thickness of armor, 18 inches. 32 officers, 441 men.

A wrong impression has gone out about these training ships, in many quarters, which is that boys who
were bad, or unmanageable, went to them. In old times bad boys were sent to sea to be beaten into
shape, but they do not take that kind now.
To be admitted on board an apprentice ship a lad has to be physically sound, and to have good
certificates as regards his moral character. The great mistake persons make is in regarding these ships
as penal institutions for the reform of boys. On the contrary, the moment a lad is convicted of theft, or of
any disgraceful proceeding, he is discharged; and the standard on board is kept high in that way. What
we have said will be sufficient to indicate the purposes of the Training Ships.
 LIFE-SAVING SERVICE.

A most interesting department of the government service connected with nautical matters is the “Life-
Saving Service of the United States,” to give it its legal title. This admirable institution was first organized
by Act of Congress, in 1878. It is remarkable that it is the only existing government institution of the kind
in the world, and our general government is abundantly justified for its creation by the results.
In England, and the British Islands generally, where so many wrecks occur, owing to the large traffic
and the uncertain and stormy weathers so frequently met with, the admirable life-boat system is
provided and supported by a society, to which society all honor is due. But their life-boats would be of
little service on our coasts or lakes, where an entirely different kind of craft is, for the most part, in use.
The British life-boat system is of very great interest, but has no place here.
Previous to 1878 the principal systematic efforts in the direction of succoring ship-wrecked persons
along our coasts were due to the Massachusetts Humane Society, which, as early as 1789, had caused
huts to be erected at some of the most desolate points on that coast for the shelter of ship-wrecked
persons who were fortunate enough to reach the shore. The first life-boat station was established by this
society at Cohasset, the scene of many dreadful wrecks, in 1807. This society still exists and does much
good, although, of course, superseded at some points by the government establishment. In other parts
of the country such societies were established, and saved many lives and much property, but are now,
for the most part, discontinued. The first step toward a distinctively national life-saving service was taken
in 1848, when Congress appropriated $10,000 for providing surf-boats and other appliances for
rescuing life and property from shipwreck on the New Jersey coast, where such disasters are so
common, owing to the numbers of vessels bound to the great ports, and the nature of the coast.
Buildings and apparatus were provided at eight different points along this coast, and the system worked
so well that the next year a larger appropriation was made for the coast of Long Island, and to increase
the number upon the Jersey coast. Then the system grew very rapidly, extending to Rhode Island, North
and South Carolina, Georgia and Texas, as well as the Great Lakes, especially Lake Michigan. It now
extends to the Pacific Coast, and even points on our great western rivers. Up to 1878 it was a branch of
the Revenue Marine Service, but in that year Congress separated it, and made it a definite
establishment under its own head.
As now organized there are twelve districts and more than 200 stations, which are known as life-
saving stations, life-boat stations, and houses of refuge. The life-saving stations have quite nice and
pretty houses, with wide doors on the ground floor, out of which the life-boat is rolled when about to be
put in service, and in another room are stored the life-car, wreck-gun, lines, and other apparatus. Up-
stairs there are rooms for the men of the crew, and extra cots for use in emergencies.
At life-boat stations the houses are smaller, being made to accommodate only the life-boat, gear and
crew. The houses of refuge are found only on the long, lonely stretches of the Florida coast, and can
accommodate 25 persons. Here are stored wood, food for that number for ten days, means of lighting a
fire, and other such things, which would allow of ship-wrecked persons who reached there refreshing
themselves so as to be able to march. These houses have also a boat-house with a galvanized iron
boat and oars.
There are regular inspectors, who are officers of the Revenue Marine, who visit these stations
regularly, and see that the men are in good drill, can handle boat and apparatus properly, and that
everything is kept in order for instant use.
Each station is in charge of a keeper, who selects his own crew under proper regulations. He is by law
an inspector of customs, must prevent smuggling, and take in charge any wrecked property which may
come on shore, and is responsible for everything in the station and for the conduct of his men.
The keeper and his men are always hardy and skilled men, familiar with the surf, and the methods of
handling a boat in it. At night they patrol the beach with lanterns and night signals, and also keep strict
watch by day, especially in bad weather. This system of patroling is a distinctive feature of the United
States Life-saving Service, and its proved value in discovering stranded vessels causes it to be
maintained with great vigilance and the manner of its performance to be strictly watched. Any evasion of
this duty is promptly punished. When stations are only a few miles apart, on such frequented and
dangerous coasts as those of New Jersey and Long Island, the patrolmen pass, at night, along the
beach until they meet the patrol from the next station; then they exchange tokens to prove that they
have met, and set out to return. It is boasted by the Life-saving Service that most lives are saved on
wrecked vessels, when it is humanly possible to reach them, either by boat or line; and it is also boasted
that no life-boat man has ever shown the “white feather” in the discharge of his duties.
No more interesting or instructive sight can be witnessed on our ocean or lake shores than a life-
saving crew at its exercise. During the Columbian Exhibition at Chicago crowds were always attracted
when these exercises took place. Especially interesting was the throwing of the line by means of the
bomb-gun, the establishment of communication with a supposed wreck, and the bringing safely on
shore by this means several men.

THE FLAG.

Perhaps it may be of interest to give some slight sketch of the history of the Flag, in this connection,
the flag of which we are all so proud, and which flies over such an extent of country and has penetrated
the most remote seas. The hoisting of the “colors,” or national flag, on board a ship-of-war is a matter of
considerable ceremony, and the same is the case when it is hauled down at sunset.
When the time for “colors” comes—which is generally at eight o’clock in the morning—the music is
called (the band paraded, if there is one), and, as the bell strikes, the flag is run up to the gaff, or the
staff, while everyone faces toward it and raises the cap and the band plays one of the national airs. In
the evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, the same ceremony takes place. Different-sized flags
are used according to the weather; from the “storm-flag,” hardly bigger than a boat-ensign, to the great
flag which flies on the Fourth of July and other grand occasions, but always, when in port, a ship-of-war
in commission has the flag flying during the day. During the day, also, every boat which leaves a man-of-
war for any purpose, must show her flag, and this is especially necessary in foreign ports, where so
much of the time of our national vessels is passed. Most persons know that the “stars and stripes,” or
“old glory,” as the soldiers used to call it during the civil war, was not at once adopted upon the breaking
out of hostilities between England and her American colonies. The national flag of the United States
assumed the form which it now has after many experiments, and was the subject of much thought and
discussion.
The flags used by the Colonies before their separation from the mother country would naturally be
those of England, and these were mostly borne during such times as the French and Indian wars. But it
was not always the case, for several flags, differing more or less from those of the kingdom, were
adopted by some of the Colonies at different times previous to the Revolution which was followed by
independence. But the Colonies, as a rule, used what was called the “Union Flag,” which was the cross
of St. George and that of St. Andrew combined, and typifying the union of England and Scotland.
When the Colonies revolted a committee was appointed by the Continental Congress to consider the
subject of a proper flag. Dr. Franklin was the chairman of the committee, which assembled in the camp
at Cambridge, on January 1, 1776. They selected and displayed the flag of the “United Colonies.” It was
composed of seven red and six white stripes, with the red and white crosses of St. George and St.
Andrew conjoined on a blue field in the corner, denoting the union of the Colonies. This was the basis of
our present national colors, but it was some time before these were adopted.
In the beginning of the hostilities the Connecticut troops had standards displaying the arms of the
Colony, with the motto. The flag displayed by General Putnam had a red field with the motto of
Connecticut: “Qui transtulit sustinet” (“He who transplanted us will sustain us”), on one side; on the
other, “An appeal to Heaven.” The floating batteries at the same time had a flag with a white ground, a
tree in the middle, and the motto “Appeal to Heaven.”
Trumbull, who was both soldier and artist, in his celebrated picture of the battle of Bunker Hill,
represents our troops as displaying a flag combined of the two last mentioned—a red flag with a pine
tree on a white field in the corner—and it is probable that just such a flag was used in that battle.
When, in 1775, South Carolina displayed a flag at the taking of Fort Johnson by Colonel Moultrie, it is
described as one having a crescent in the quarter of a blue field. There were various others, but they
were soon supplanted by the “Great Union Flag” we have spoken of already.
In 1776, a flag was presented to Congress by Colonel Gadsden for the use of the infant navy. It had a
yellow field, a rattlesnake with thirteen rattles, coiled to strike, and the motto, “Don’t tread on me.” The
device of a rattlesnake was a favorite one with the colonists at this period, and was frequently adopted
as a heading by the newspapers of the day; being represented as cut into thirteen parts, and the initial
of one of the colonies on each, with the motto “Join or die.” The British used to make great fun in those
times of many peculiarities of the Rebels, as they were called, and one of the jokes was directed against
the fondness of the Americans for the number thirteen, which was suggested, of course, by the number
of the Colonies. Some of the witticisms in this connection were personal and rather vulgar, but one was
that “every well-organized rebel household has thirteen children, all of whom expect to be generals and
members of the high and mighty Congress of the thirteen United States when they attain thirteen years;
that Mrs. Washington has a mottled tom cat (which she calls in a complimentary way Hamilton) with
thirteen yellow rings round his tail, and that his flaunting it suggested to the Congress the adoption of
the same number of stripes for the rebel flag.”
The Province of Massachusetts adopted a flag to be worn by the cruisers of that Colony, which was
white, with a green pine tree in the middle, and the inscription “Appeal to Heaven;” being the same as
that used on the floating batteries. The great Union flag, without the crosses, and with a rattlesnake and
“Don’t tread on me,” was also used as a naval flag. Different corps also carried different flags, with many
devices, in the land service, but the “Great Union Flag,” which was first unfurled on the first of January,
1776, over the new Continental army at Cambridge, was particularly the banner of the United States.
The stars and stripes, substantially as we see them to-day, were not adopted for the standard of the
United States until some time after the Declaration of Independence. On the 14th of June, 1777,
Congress passed a resolution, which was not made public until the following September, that the “flag of
the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white, that the union be thirteen stars,
white in a blue field, representing a new constellation.” The new constellation, which it was intended
should be represented, is supposed to be Lyra, which in ancient times was the symbol of harmony and
unity among men. The difficulty of representing a constellation on a standard probably led to a
modification of the plan, and a circle of thirteen stars was chosen, signifying union and eternal
endurance. Red is the emblem of courage and fortitude; white, of purity; and blue, of constancy, love,
and faith.
The flag, as thus authorized, was used at the surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga, October, 17th,
1777. Admiral George Preble, whose history of the flag is the greatest and most exhaustive work upon
the subject, says: “It will probably never be known who designed our union of stars, the records of
Congress being silent upon the subject, and there being no mention or suggestion of it in any of the
voluminous correspondence or diaries of the time, public or private, which have been published. It has
been asked why the stars on our banner are five-pointed, while those on our coins are six-pointed, and
always have been so. The answer is, that the designer of our early coins followed the English, and the
designer of our flag, the European custom. In the heraldic language of England, the star has six points;
in the heraldry of Holland, France, and Germany, the star is five-pointed.”
 U. S. S. Cincinnati.
Protected cruiser. Twin screw. Main battery, ten 5-inch and one 6-inch rapid fire guns. Secondary battery, eight 6-pounder
and two 1-pounder rapid fire guns and two Gatlings. Thickness of protective deck, 2¹⁄₂ inches on slopes, 1 inch on the flat. 20
officers, 202 men.

But, in the same work, an account is given, which is of the highest interest, in regard to the actual
manufacture of the flag which we know so well, and revere so greatly.
In June, 1776, almost a year before the present flag was adopted by solemn resolution of Congress,
General Washington was in Philadelphia for about a fortnight, being called on from New York to advise
with Congress on the state of affairs just previous to the Declaration of Independence.
At that time there lived in Philadelphia a Mrs. Ross, whose house is still standing at what was formerly
No. 89, and now 239 Arch street. It is little changed to-day from its general appearance of more than a
century ago.
Mrs. Ross was a well-known upholsterer, and a committee, which had been considering the important
question of a flag, visited her, in company with General Washington, as the most likely person to be able
to carry out their views, and asked her to make a flag from a certain design of which they produced a
rough drawing. At her suggestion, it is said, this was redrawn by General Washington in pencil in Mrs.
Ross’ back parlor. From this she made a specimen flag, which was afterwards adopted by Congress.
Mr. Canby, who wrote a paper about this origin of the actual flag, which he read before the Pennsylvania
Historical Society, in 1870, was a descendant of Mrs. Ross on the mother’s side, and at the time he
wrote the paper there were three daughters of Mrs. Ross living, and a niece, then ninety-five, who all
relied for their accounts of the transaction upon what Mrs. Ross had told them. They said that when
“Colonel George Ross and General Washington visited Mrs. Ross and asked her to make the flag, she
said: “I don’t know whether I can, but I’ll try;” and directly suggested to the gentlemen that the design
was wrong, the stars being six-cornered and not five-cornered (pointed), as they should be. This was
altered and other changes made.”
Whether this account is correct or not has been made a matter of much discussion by persons
interested in the early history of our country. There is one thing certain; it came from report of three
people, reduced to writing, and not from tradition. Mr. Canby said that he was eleven years old when
Mrs. Ross died in his father’s house, and he well remembered her telling the story. The mother and two
of the sisters of Mr. Canby were then living and in good memory. One of his aunts succeeded to the
business, and continued making flags for the navy-yard and arsenals, and for the mercantile marine for
many years, until, being conscientious on the subject of war, she gave up the government business, but
continued the mercantile until 1857.
It is altogether probable that General Washington, with Colonel Ross, who was no relation of Mrs.
Ross, and Robert Morris, did call upon Mrs. Ross to make flags, for General Washington knew Mrs.
Ross very well. In fact, she made his shirt ruffles and many other things, especially while he resided in
Philadelphia as President of the United States.
The first change in the flag provided by the Act of Congress which we have quoted was in the year
1794. Then Congress passed a resolution: “That from and after the first day of May, Anno Domini one
thousand seven hundred and ninety-five, the flag of the United States be fifteen stripes, alternate red
and white. That the union be fifteen stars, white in a blue field.” This was approved on January 13th,
1794. Already new States had been formed.
The next change was in 1818; when the resolution of Congress was that: “From and after the fourth
day of July next, the flag of the United States be thirteen horizontal stripes, alternate red and white; that
the union be twenty stars, white on a blue field; and that, on the addition of a new State into the Union,
one star be added to the union of the flag; and that such addition shall take effect on the fourth day of
July next succeeding such admission.” The present arrangement of the stars on the flag is well known,
and the arrangement is such as to admit of addition when a new State is admitted.
In regard to the use of flags in the navy we may say that there are no admirals or vice-admirals at
present allowed by law. Our navy now has only rear-admirals. When the three grades existed the
distinguishing flags were of blue bunting, bearing four, three, or two stars, according to the rank of the
officer: and, in the same way, carried at the main, fore, or mizzen.
Sometimes it happens that two or more admirals are in company, and then the senior flies the blue
flag, the next in rank the red, and the last the white, each with the stars as described. The Secretary of
the Navy, when on aboard a vessel of the navy always flies a flag peculiar to his office—being a blue
flag with the stars—in other words, the union of the national flag.
When the President embarks in a naval vessel the fact is denoted by hoisting the national colors at
the main, he being Commander-in-chief of the Army and Navy.
The courtesy of the flag on board a man-of-war embraces so many points that they would be
wearisome to the ordinary reader. We may only say that, in the case of two vessels meeting at sea, the
national flag is always displayed. If one ship is a warship and the other a merchant vessel of another
country, or of her own, and she does not respond, the man-of-war is apt to compel her to do so,
especially under any suspicious circumstances. When a man-of-war leaves a harbor at an earlier hour
than that usual for hoisting the colors she always hoists hers first as she proceeds seawards, and each
ship lying in the port hoists her ensign until the outgoing vessel has passed, when it is hauled down
again, to await the regular hour for hoisting it with the honors.
In seaports, when the flag of a newly-arrived man-of-war is saluted, that flag is always shown at the
fore, of the saluting vessels at the first gun, and promptly hauled down when the last gun of the salute is
fired.
 U. S. S. Newark.
Protected steel cruiser. Twin screw. Main battery, twelve 6-inch breech loading rifles. Secondary battery, four 6-pounder, four
3-pounder and two 1-pounder rapid fire guns, four Hotchkiss revolving cannons and four Gatlings. 34 officers, 350 men.

VESSELS OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY.

Dis-
place- Batteries.
Keel ment, Speed, Horse-
Name and Class. Laid. Tons. Knots. power. Cost. Main. S
ARMORED
VESSELS.
Seagoing
Battleships.
Indiana 1891 10,288 15.54 9,738 $3,020,000 4 13 in. B L R 20 6 pdr. and 6 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
8 8 in. B L R
4 6 in. B L R
Iowa 1893 11,410 16 11,000 3,010,000 4 12 in. B L R 20 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
8 8 in. B L R
6 4 in. B L R
Maine 1888 6,682 17.4 9,293 2,500,000 4 10 in. B L R 7 6 pdr. and 8 1 pdr. R F.
6 6 in. B L R
Massachusetts 1891 10,288 15 9,000 3,020,000 4 13 in. B L R 20 6 pdr. and 6 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
8 8 in. B L R
4 6 in. B L R
Oregon 1891 10,288 15 9,000 3,180,000 4 13 in. B L R 20 6 pdr. and 6 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
8 8 in. B L R
4 6 in. B L R
Texas 1889 6,315 17 8,000 2,500,000 2 12 in. B L R 6 1 pdr. R F, 4 37 mm. H R C, 2 Gatli
6 6 in. B L R
Kearsarge 1896 11,525 16 10,000 3,150,000 4 13 in. B L R 14 5 in., 20 6 pdr. and 6 1 pdr. R F, 4
4 8 in. B L R
Kentucky 1896 11,525 16 10,000 3,150,000 4 13 in. B L R 14 5 in., 20 6 pdr. and 6 1 pdr. R F, 4
4 8 in. B L R
Alabama ... 11,000 16 ... 3,750,000 4 13 in. B L R 16 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
14 6 in. B L R
Illinois ... 11,000 16 ... 3,750,000 4 13 in. B L R 16 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
14 6 in. B L R
Wisconsin ... 11,000 16 ... 3,750,000 4 13 in. B L R 16 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
14 6 in. B L R
Armored
Cruisers.
Brooklyn 1893 9,271 20 16,000 2,986,000 8 8 in. B L R 12 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings
12 5 in. R F
New York 1890 8,200 21 17,401 2,985,000 6 8 in. B L R 8 6 pdr. and 4 1 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings.
12 4 in. R F
Ram.
Katahdin 1891 2,155 17 4,800 930,000 ... 4 6 pdr. R F.
Dbl. Turret Mons.
Amphitrite 1874 3,990 12 1,600 3,178,046 4 10 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 37 mm. H
2 4 in. R F
Miantonomoh 1874 3,990 10.5 1,426 3,178,046 4 10 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F
Monadnock 1874 3,990 14.5 3,000 3,178,046 4 10 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 37 mm. H
2 4 in. R F
Monterey 1889 4,084 13.6 5,244 1,628,950 2 12 in. B L R 6 6 pdr. R F, 2 Gatlings, 4 1 pdr. R F
2 10 in. B L R
Puritan 1875 6,060 12.4 3,700 3,178,046 4 12 in. B L R 6 6 pdr. R F, 4 Gatlings, 2 37 mm. H
2 4 in. R F
Terror 1874 13,990 12 1,600 3,178,046 4 10 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 in. R F Gatling, 2 37
Sing. Turret
Mons.
Ajax 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 626,582 2 15 in. S B
Comanche 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 613,164 ...
Canonicus 1862 ... 6 340 622,963 2 15 in. S B 2 12 pdr. H.
Catskill 1862 ... 6 340 427,766 2 15 in. S B
Jason 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 422,766 2 15 in. S B
Lehigh 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 422,766 2 15 in. S B
Mahopac 1862 ... 6 340 635,374 2 15 in. S B
Manhattan 1862 ... 6 340 628,879 2 15 in. S B
Montauk 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 423,027 2 15 in. S B
Nahant 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 413,515 2 15 in. S B
Nantucket 1862 ... 5 to 7 340 408,091 2 15 in. S B
Passaic 1862 ... 5 to 6 340 423.171 2 15 in. S B
Wyandotte 1862 ... 6 340 633,327 2 15 in. S B
UNARMORED
STEEL
VESSELS.
Atlanta. 1883 3,000 15.6 4,030 617,000 6 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 4 3 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F
2 8 in. B L R
Baltimore 1887 4,413 20.09 10,064 1,325,000 4 8 in. B L R 4 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F
6 6 in. B L R
Boston 1883 3,000 15.6 4,030 619,000 6 6 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F
2 8 in. B L R
Charleston 1887 3,730 18.2 6,666 1,017,500 2 8 in. B L R 4 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F
6 6 in. B L R
Chicago 1883 4,500 15.10 5,084 889,000 4 8 in. R L R 9 6 pdr. R F. 4 1 pdr. R F C, 2 37 mm
8 6 in. B L R
2 5 in. B L R
Cincinnati 1890 3,213 19 10,000 1,100,000 10 5 in. R F G 8 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F C, 2 Gatling
1 6 in. R F G
Columbia 1891 7,375 22.8 18,509 2,725,000 2 6 in. R F G 12 6 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F C, 4 Gatlin
8 4 in. R F G
 1 8 in. B L R
Minneapolis 1891 7,375 23.7 20,362 2,690,000 1 8 in. B L R 12 6 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F C, 4 Gatlin
2 6 in. R F G
8 4 in. R F G
Newark 1888 4,098 19 8,869 1,248,000 12 6 in. B L R 4 6 pdr. R F, 4 3 pdr. R F C, 4 37 mm
Olympia 1891 5,870 21.6 17,313 1,796,000 4 8 in. B L R 14 6 pdr. R F, 6 1 pdr. R F C, 4 Gatlin
10 5 in. R F G
Philadelphia 1888 4,324 19.6 8,815 1,350,000 12 6 in. B L R 4 6 pdr. R F, 4 2 pdr. R F C, 3 37 mm
Raleigh 1889 3,213 19 10,000 1,100,000 10 5 in. R F G 8 6 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F C, 2 Gatling
1 6 in. R F G
San Francisco 1888 4,098 19.5 9,913 1,428,000 12 6 in. B L R 4 6 pdr. and 4 3 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F
Cruisers.
Detroit 1890 2,089 18.7 5,227 612,500 9 5 in. R F G 6 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F C, 1 Gatling
Marblehead 1890 2,809 18.4 5,451 674,000 9 5 in. R F G 6 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F C, 2 Gatling
Montgomery 1890 2,089 19.5 5,580 612,500 9 5 in. R F G 6 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F C, 2 Gatling
Gunboats.
Bennington 1888 1,710 17.5 3,436 490,000 6 6 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. R F, 2 3 pdr. R F G, 2 37 mm
Castine 1891 1,177 16 2,199 318,500 8 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Concord 1888 1,710 16.8 3,405 490,000 6 6 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. R F, 2 3 pdr. R F G, 2 37 mm
Helena 1894 1,392 13 1,600 280,000 8 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F G, 2 Gatling
Machias 1891 1,177 15.4 2,046 318,000 8 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G, 2 1 pdr.
Nashville 1894 1,371 14 1,750 280,000 8 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G, 2 Gatling
Petrel 1887 892 11.7 1,095 247,000 4 6 in. B L R 1 1 pdr. R F G, 2 37 mm. H R C, 2 G
Wilmington 1894 1,392 13 1,600 280,000 8 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 4 1 pdr. R F G, 2 Gatling
Yorktown 1887 1,710 16.14 3,392 455,000 6 6 in. B L R 2 6 pdr. R F, 2 3 pdr. R F G, 2 37 mm
Annapolis 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Vicksburg 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Newport 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Princeton 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Marietta 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Wheeling 1896 1,000 12 800 230,000 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Special Class.
Bancroft 1891 839 14.3 1,213 250,000 4 4 in. R F G 2 6 pdr. and 2 3 pdr. R F, 1 1 pdr. R F
Dispatch Boat.
Dolphin 1883 1,488 15.5 2,253 315,000 2 4 in. R F G 2 6 pdr. R F, 2 47 mm. H R C, 2 Gatli
Dynamite
Cruisers.
Vesuvius 1887 929 21.4 3,794 350,000 3 15 in. Dynamite Guns 3 3 pdr. R F.
Torpedo Cruiser ... ... ... ... ... ...
Torpedo Boats.
Cushing 1888 105 22.5 1,720 82,750 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Ericsson 1892 120 24 1,800 113,500 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Stiletto ... 31 18.2 359 25,000 ...
Foote 1896 142 24.5 2,000 97,500 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Rodger 1896 142 24.5 2,000 97,500 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Winslow 1896 142 24.5 2,000 97,500 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Porter 1896 130 27.5 ... 147,000 ... 4 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Du Pont 1896 180 27.5 ... 147,000 ... 4 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Rowan 1896 182 26 3,200 150,000 ... 4 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Plunger 1896 168 8 1,200 150,000 ... 2 W T.
(Submarine)
Dahlgren 1897 146 30.5 4,200 194,000 ... 4 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
T. A. M. Craven 1897 146 30.5 4,200 194,000 ... 4 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Farragut 1897 273 30 5,600 227,500 ... 6 6 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Davies 1897 128 22.5 1,750 81,546 ... 2 1 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
Fox 1897 128 22.5 1,750 85,000 ... 2 1 pdr. R F, 4 18 in. W T.
Morris 1897 103 22.5 1,750 89,000 ... 3 1 pdr. R F, 4 18 in. W T.
Talbot 1887 46.5 20 850 39,000 ... 1 1 pdr. R F, 3 18 in. W T.
Gwin 1897 46.5 20 850 39,000 ... 1 1 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
MacKensie 1897 65 20 850 48,500 ... 1 1 pdr. R F. 2 18 in. W T.
McKee 1897 65 20 850 45,000 ... 1 1 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
Stringham 1897 340 30 7,200 236,000 ... 7 6 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
Goldsborough 1897 247.5 30 7,200 214,500 ... 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
Bailey 1897 235 30 5,600 210,000 ... 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 18 in. W T.
OLD NAVY
VESSELS
Old Iron Vessels.
Alarm 1874 800 10 600 ... ...
Alert 1873 1,020 10 365 ... 2 9 in. S B 2 6 pdr. R F G, 2 37 mm. H R C, 1 G
1 6 pdr. B L R
Monocacy 1863 1,370 11.2 850 ... 4 8 in. S B 1 3 pdr. R F, 1 3 in. B L H, 1 12 pdr. S
2 60 pdr. B L R
Michigan 1844 685 10.5 305 ... 4 30 pdr. B L R 3 3 pdr. B L H, 2 Gatlings.
Pinta 1865 550 8.5 190 ... 2 12 pdr. S B H 1 Gatling.
Ranger 1873 1,020 10 365 ... 2 9 in. S B 1 3 pdr. B L H, 1 Gatling, 2 37 mm. H
1 8 in. S B
1 60 pdr. B L R
Old Wooden
Vessels.
Adams 1874 1,375 9.8 550 ... ...
Alliance 1873 1,375 9.9 668 ... 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Enterprise 1873 1,375 11.4 790 ... 6 4 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G, 2 3 in. B
Essex 1874 1,375 10.4 505 ... 13 5 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G.
Hartford 1858 2,780 12 2,000 ... 10 5 in. R F G 4 6 pdr. R F, 2 1 pdr. R F G, 4 Gatling
25 in. B L R
Lancaster 1858 3,250 9.6 733 ... ...
Marion 1871 1,900 11.2 753 ... 4 32 pdr. 2 3 pdr. B L H.
Mohican 1872 1,900 10.6 613 ... 8 9 in. S B 1 3 pdr. B L H, 2 20 pdr. B L R, 1 Gat
1 8 in. M L R
1 60 pdr. R
Thetis ... 1,250 7.5 490 ... ... 1 53 mm. H R C.
Yantic 1864 900 8.3 225 ... 2 9 in. S B 1 12 pdr. R F, 1 3 pdr. B L H, 1 Gatlin
1 8 in. M L R
1 60 pdr. R

The above are steam vessels. In addition to the old Navy vessels enumerated above, are the following sailing vessels:
Receiving-ship Constellation, 10 guns, built 1854; Training-ships Monongehela, 12 guns, built 1862, and Portsmouth, 15
guns, built 1843; and School-ships Jamestown, St. Mary’s, and Saratoga.
The following-named steel, iron, and wooden steam tugs are a part of the Naval Force: Fortune, Leyden, Nina, Rocket,
Standish, Triton, Iwana, Wahneta, Narketa, Traffic, Unadilla, and No. 5. Their horse-power varies from 147 to 500 each.
The following old wooden ships are not fit for further sea service: Receiving-ships Franklin, Wabash, Minnesota,
Constitution, Independance, Dale, Omaha, Pensacola, Richmond, Iroquois, and Vermont. The St. Louis, Nipsic, and New
Hampshire are wooden naval reserve ships.
Abbreviations.—M., Monitor. 1-t, 2-t, one turret, 2 turrets; B. S., Battleship; C. Cruiser; R. S., Receiving-Ship; C. D.,
Coast Defense; T., Training-Ship: A. C., Armored Cruiser; P. C., Protected Cruiser; D. C., Dynamite Cruiser; N. R., Naval
Reserve; D. B., Dispatch Boat; G. B., Gunboat; B. L. H., Breech-loading Howitser; B. L. R., Breech-loading Rifle; T. B.,
Torpedo Boat; C. G. B., Composite Gunboat; Gat., Gatling Gun; R. F. G., Rapid Fire Gun; R., Rifle when in main battery, Ram
when referring to class; H. R. C., Hotchkiss Revolving Cannon; R. F., Rapid Fire; S. B., Smooth Bore; S. B. H., Smooth Bore
Howitser; M. L. R., Muzzle-loading Rifle; pdr., pounder; mm., millimetres; W. T., Whitehead Torpedo Tubes; S. T. B.
Submarine Torpedo Boat; R. F. C., Rapid Fire Cannon.
NAVY-YARDS.

1. Brooklyn Navy-Yard, Brooklyn, N. Y.

2. Charlestown Navy-Yard, Boston, Mass.
3. Gosport Navy-Yard, near Norfolk, Va.
4. Kittery Navy-Yard, opp. Portsmouth, N. H.
5. League Island Navy-Yard, 4 miles from City Hall, Philadelphia, Pa.
6. Mare Island Navy-Yard, near San Francisco, Cal.
7. Pensacola Navy-Yard, Pensacola, Fla
8. Washington City Navy-Yard, Washington, D. C.
 There are naval stations at New London, Ct.; Port Royal, S. C.; Sidney, Wash., and Key West, Fla., and a torpedo
station and naval war college at Newport, R. I.

VESSELS OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY.—Continued.

Comple-
Length Normal No. of Armor. ment.
on Load Ex- Type Coal Bunker Tor- Slope Flat
Water treme Mean of Sup- Capac- pedo Tur- Bar- of of Offi-
Vessels. Line. Breadth. Draught. Screw. ply. ity. Tubes. Sides. rets. bettes. Deck. Deck. cers. Men.
Ft. In. Ft. In. Ft. In. Tons Tons In. In. In. In. In.
Alabama 368 0 72 0 23 6 T S 450 1,200 4 16¹⁄₂ 17 15 5¹⁄₂ 2³⁄₄ 50 535
Amphitrite 259 6 55 10 14 6 TS 250 250 ... 9 7.5 11.5 ... 1³⁄₄ 26 145
Atlanta 271 3 42 1 16 10 S S ... 490 ... ... ... ... 1¹⁄₂ 1¹⁄₂ 19 265
Baltimore 327 6 48 7 19 6 TS 400 1,144 4 ... ... ... 4 2¹⁄₂ 36 350
Bancroft 188 0 32 0 11 6 TS 100 200 2 ... ... ... ⁵⁄₁₆ ¹⁄₄ 10 120
Bennington 230 0 36 0 14 0 TS 200 403 6 ... ... ... ³⁄₈ ³⁄₈ 16 181
Boston 271 3 42 1 16 10 S S ... 496 ... ... ... ... 1¹⁄₂ 1¹⁄₂ 19 265
Brooklyn 400 6 64 8 24 0 TS 900 1,753 5 3 5.5 8 6 3 40 501
Castine 204 0 32 1 12 0 TS 125 192.6 1 ... ... ... ³⁄₈ ⁵⁄₁₆ 11 143
Charleston 312 0 46 2 18 7 TS 328 758 4 ... ... ... 3 2 20 280
Chicago 325 0 48 2 19 0 TS ... 832 ... ... ... ... 1¹⁄₂ 1¹⁄₂ 33 376
Cincinnati 300 0 42 0 18 0 TS 350 460 4 ... ... ... 2¹⁄₂ 1 20 292
Columbia 412 0 58 2 22 6 TrS 750 1,670 5 ... ... ... 7 2¹⁄₂ 40 429
Concord 230 0 36 0 14 0 TS 200 401 6 ... ... ... ³⁄₈ ³⁄₈ 13 180
Cushing 139 0 14 3 4 11 T S ... 36 3 ... ... ... ... ... 3 20
Detroit 257 0 37 0 14 7 TS 200 340 3 ... ... ... ⁷⁄₁₆ ⁵⁄₁₆ 20 257
Dolphin 240 0 32 0 14 3 SS ... 274 ... ... ... ... ... ... 7 108
Ericsson 149 0 15 6 4 9 TS 9 36 3 ... ... ... ... ... 3 20
Illinois 368 0 72 0 23 6 TS 450 1,200 4 16¹⁄₂ 17 15 5¹⁄₂ 2³⁄₄ 50 535
17
Indiana 348 0 69 3 24 0 TS 400 1,640 6 18 15 { 8 } ... 2³⁄₄ 38 427
14 15
Iowa 360 0 72 2 24 0 TS 625 1,780 6 { 3 } 15 { 6 } ... 2³⁄₄ ... 444
Katahdin 250 9 43 5 15 0 TS 175 193 ... 6 ... ... ... ... 30 91
Kearsarge 368 0 72 5 23 6 TS 400 1,210 5 15 17 15 5 2³⁄₄ 40 480
Kentucky 368 0 72 5 23 6 TS 400 1,210 5 15 17 15 5 2³⁄₄ 40 480
Machias 204 0 32 1 12 0 TS 125 192.6 1 ... ... ... ³⁄₈ ⁵⁄₁₆ 11 143
Maine 318 0 57 0 21 6 TS 400 896 4 12 8 12 ... 2 29 370
Marblehead 257 0 37 0 14 7 TS 200 340 3 ... ... ... ⁷⁄₁₆ ⁵⁄₁₆ 20 254
17
Massachusetts 348 0 69 3 24 0 TS 400 1,640 6 18 15 { 8 } ... 2³⁄₄ ... 424
Miantonomoh 259 6 55 10 14 6 TS 250 250 ... 7 11.5 ... ... 1³⁄₄ 13 136
Minneapolis 412 0 58 2 22 6 TS 750 1,670 5 ... ... ... 4 2¹⁄₂ 40 456
Monadnock 259 6 55 10 14 6 TS 250 250 ... 9 7.5 11.5 ... 1³⁄₄ 26 145
8 14
Monterey 256 0 59 0 14 10 T S 200 236 ... 13 { 7.5 }{ 11.5 } ... 3 19 172
Montgomery 257 0 37 0 14 7 TS 200 340 3 ... ... ... ⁷⁄₁₆ ⁵⁄₁₆ 20 254
Newark 310 0 49 2 18 9 TS 400 809 6 ... ... ... 3 2 37 350
New York 380 6 64 10 23 3 TS 750 1,290 3 4 5.5 10 6 3 40 526
Olympia 340 0 53 0 21 6 TS 400 1,093 6 ... ... ... 4³⁄₄ 2 34 395
17
Oregon 348 0 69 3 24 0 TS 400 1,640 6 18 15 { 8 } ... 2³⁄₄ ... 424
Petrel 176 0 31 0 11 7 TS 100 200 ... ... ... ... ³⁄₈ ⁵⁄₁₆ 10 122