Excerpt from The Squirrel Inn
The steamboat Manasquan was advertised to leave her pier on the east side of the city at half-past nine on a July morning. At nine o"clock Walter Lodloe was on the forward upper deck, watching the early passengers come on board, and occasion ally smiling as his glance fell upon a tall man in a blue flannel shirt, who, with a number of other deckhands, was hard at work transferring from the pier to the steamer the boxes, barrels, and bales of merchandise the discouraging mass of which was on the point of being increased by the unloading of a newly arrived two-horse truck.
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