Моби Дик

The Spouter-Inn

           Isatdownonanoldwoodensettle,carvedalloverlikeabenchontheBattery.Atoneendaruminatingtarwasstillfurtheradorningitwithhisjack-knife,stoopingoveranddiligentlyworkingawayatthespacebetweenhislegs.Hewastryinghishandatashipunderfullsail,buthedidn’tmakemuchheadway,Ithought.

           Atlastsomefourorfiveofusweresummonedtoourmealinanadjoiningroom.ItwascoldasIcelandnofireatallthelandlordsaidhecouldn’taffordit.Nothingbuttwodismaltallowcandles,eachinawindingsheet.Wewerefaintobuttonupourmonkeyjackets,andholdtoourlipscupsofscaldingteawithourhalffrozenfingers.Butthefarewasofthemostsubstantialkindnotonlymeatandpotatoes,butdumplings;goodheavens!dumplingsforsupper!Oneyoungfellowinagreenboxcoat,addressedhimselftothesedumplingsinamostdirefulmanner.

           "Myboy,"saidthelandlord,"you’llhavethenightmaretoadeadsartainty."

           "Landlord,"Iwhispered,"thatainttheharpooneerisit?"

           "Oh,no,"saidhe,lookingasortofdiabolicallyfunny,"theharpooneerisadarkcomplexionedchap.Henevereatsdumplings,hedon’theeatsnothingbutsteaks,andhelikes‘emrare."

           "Thedevilhedoes,"saysI."Whereisthatharpooneer?Ishehere?"

           "He’llbehereaforelong,"wastheanswer.

           Icouldnothelpit,butIbegantofeelsuspiciousofthis"darkcomplexioned"harpooneer.Atanyrate,Imadeupmymindthatifitsoturnedoutthatweshouldsleeptogether,hemustundressandgetintobedbeforeIdid.

           Supperover,thecompanywentbacktothebar-room,when,knowingnotwhatelsetodowithmyself,Iresolvedtospendtherestoftheeveningasa

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