In Salem's brief and spice-laden hour when its ships brought back the spoils of the whole world, its young men were united in a common dream to sail to the Orient from which Salem's fabulous wealth had come. Such was Dash Inman, who had captained his first East Indiaman at nineteen, and at twenty-five launched his own Victrix and commanded her as she began her audacious career.
To all Salem it seemed fitting that he should love the exquisite Polly Mompesson, belle of the town. But Dash and Polly were doomed just as Salem was: a sudden twilight followed the sudden morning of their love and of Salem's glory alike. For Salem, there came first the Embargo, and then the War of 1812. Vigor died out or moved away: only taste and delicacy remained. The fine new Customs House served the wharfs which no longer needed it, its gold eagle leaned forward to scream at a street where only ghosts bustled. Among these ghosts were the once-bold Dash and the once- lovely Polly, alive, still, but condemned to a half-life not even tragic. For Dash had allowed his brother Peter to pay too great a price for his own happiness with Polly. The result is a titanic struggle of conscience rarely equaled in American fiction.
Here are not only the members of the great Inman family, but people of all ranks and kinds: Mr. Africanus, the blind black giant; Linda Gould, who danced for the Lord: Dan Obrian, who was hand- some, and 'Sephus Hohey, who was not. And here is Dulcy Delancy, who played her role almost unwittingly.
Here, created writer who has won acclaim not only as a novelist but as an historian, is Salem in her great hour and in her decay. Here are glimpses of swarming gold-roofed cities, and pirate junks with bats wings, and even the first American penetration of forbidden Japan; blockade running, and a typhoon,
Jacket by Lynd Ward
—from the dust jacket
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