- end_line
- 6511
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.413Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6442
- text
- called, were discovered. Though I know of no account as to whether any
of them were found inhabited or no, it may be reasonably concluded that
they have been immemorial solitudes. But let us return to Redondo.
Southwest from our tower lies all Polynesia, hundreds of leagues away;
but straight west, on the precise line of his parallel, no land rises
till your keel is beached upon the Kingsmills, a nice little sail of,
say 5000 miles.
Having thus by such distant references—with Rodondo the only possible
ones—settled our relative place on the sea, let us consider objects not
quite so remote. Behold the grim and charred Enchanted Isles. This
nearest crater-shaped headland is part of Albemarle, the largest of the
group, being some sixty miles or more long, and fifteen broad. Did you
ever lay eye on the real genuine Equator? Have you ever, in the largest
sense, toed the Line? Well, that identical crater-shaped headland
there, all yellow lava, is cut by the Equator exactly as a knife cuts
straight through the centre of a pumpkin pie. If you could only see so
far, just to one side of that same headland, across yon low dikey
ground, you would catch sight of the isle of Narborough, the loftiest
land of the cluster; no soil whatever; one seamed clinker from top to
bottom; abounding in black caves like smithies; its metallic shore
ringing under foot like plates of iron; its central volcanoes standing
grouped like a gigantic chimney-stack.
Narborough and Albemarle are neighbors after a quite curious fashion. A
familiar diagram will illustrate this strange neighborhood:
[Illustration]
Cut a channel at the above letter joint, and the middle transverse limb
is Narborough, and all the rest is Albemarle. Volcanic Narborough lies
in the black jaws of Albemarle like a wolf’s red tongue in his open
month.
If now you desire the population of Albemarle, I will give you, in
round numbers, the statistics, according to the most reliable estimates
made upon the spot:
Men, none. Ant-eaters, unknown. Man-haters, unknown.
Lizards, 500,000. Snakes, 500,000. Spiders, 10,000,000.
Salamanders, unknown. Devils, do. Making a clean total
of 11,000,000,
exclusive of an incomputable host of fiends, ant-eaters, man-haters,
and salamanders.
Albemarle opens his mouth towards the setting sun. His distended jaws
form a great bay, which Narborough, his tongue, divides into halves,
one whereof is called Weather Bay, the other Lee Bay; while the
volcanic promontories, terminating his coasts, are styled South Head
and North Head. I note this, because these bays are famous in the
annals of the Sperm Whale Fishery. The whales come here at certain
seasons to calve. When ships first cruised hereabouts, I am told, they
used to blockade the entrance of Lee Bay, when their boats going round
by Weather Bay, passed through Narborough channel, and so had the
Leviathans very neatly in a pen.
The day after we took fish at the base of this Round Tower, we had a
fine wind, and shooting round the north headland, suddenly descried a
fleet of full thirty sail, all beating to windward like a squadron in
line. A brave sight as ever man saw. A most harmonious concord of
rushing keels. Their thirty kelsons hummed like thirty harp-strings,
and looked as straight whilst they left their parallel traces on the
sea. But there proved too many hunters for the game. The fleet broke
up, and went their separate ways out of sight, leaving my own ship and
two trim gentlemen of London. These last, finding no luck either,
likewise vanished; and Lee Bay, with all its appurtenances, and without
a rival, devolved to us.
- title
- Chunk 3