Ambrose

A painted ship upon a painted ocean is the Ambrose. Until last week she had not moved, except up and down with the tides, for 22 years. The steam that has been up in her boilers all that time was at last put to work, the pinochle game of a generation in her saloon was for once interrupted, her crew of 14 at last had something to do besides polish brass and blow the siren, as she pointed her blunt prow for a momentous voyage.

From her pinprick on the world's charts of New York Harbor, off which she has lain to warn the ships of the world of a guardian shoal, the Ambrose steamed southeastward--for 1 1/8 mile. Then down went her bebarnacled anchor-&-chain once more.

Reason for the change: in its new location the Ambrose's 5,000-candlepower light will be a more accurate beacon for ships entering narrow Ambrose Channel from the deep Atlantic 20 miles east of Staten Island.

Reason for the Ambrose's name and existence: a fighting Irish wharf-&-dry-dock man of Manhattan named John Wolfe Ambrose harangued for 18 years to get Congress to dredge the approach to New York Harbor.*

First and only Captain of the Ambrose is squint-eyed Gustav A. Lange, who has been at sea from cabin boy to master, for 43 years. Said he in German-American gutturals last week: "Vell, it brings home a mile closer to these inbound ships now ve are moved."

*After $8,000,000 was finally appropriated, in 1899. Governor Theodore Roosevelt and other leading New Yorkers invited Dockman Ambrose to a testimonial dinner. He died a week later.

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