- end_line
- 16423
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-23T15:41:06.393Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 16408
- text
- misanthrope, once ignited, the whale supplies his own fuel and burns by
his own body. Would that he consumed his own smoke! for his smoke is
horrible to inhale, and inhale it you must, and not only that, but you
must live in it for the time. It has an unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor
about it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of funereal pyres. It smells
like the left wing of the day of judgment; it is an argument for the
pit.
By midnight the works were in full operation. We were clear from the
carcase; sail had been made; the wind was freshening; the wild ocean
darkness was intense. But that darkness was licked up by the fierce
flames, which at intervals forked forth from the sooty flues, and
illuminated every lofty rope in the rigging, as with the famed Greek
fire. The burning ship drove on, as if remorselessly commissioned to
some vengeful deed. So the pitch and sulphur-freighted brigs of the
bold Hydriote, Canaris, issuing from their midnight harbors, with broad
- title
- Chunk 1