- description
- # CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.
## Overview
This chapter, titled "CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.", is the thirteenth chapter of the novel [White-Jacket](arke:01KG8AJ89Z18FKVJV5H0488ZAZ). It spans lines 1960 to 1999 of its source text.
## Context
This chapter is part of [White-Jacket](arke:01KG8AJ89Z18FKVJV5H0488ZAZ), a novel by Herman Melville, which is included in the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection. It was extracted from the digital file [white_jacket.txt](arke:01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY). It follows [CHAPTER XII. THE GOOD OR BAD TEMPER OF MEN-OF-WAR’S MEN, IN A GREAT DEGREE, ATTRIBUTABLE TO THEIR PARTICULAR STATIONS AND DUTIES ABOARD SHIP.](arke:01KG8AJQ3M4AHHCAW4MDTNFNN5) and precedes [CHAPTER XIV. A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR.](arke:01KG8AJQ3HTMCJF8V136ARKCBX).
## Contents
The chapter delves into the narrator's selective friendships aboard the frigate, highlighting his preference for a small circle of intimates including Lemsford, Nord, Williams, Jack Chase, and his main-top comrades. The narrator explains his avoidance of "indiscriminate intimacy" to prevent "annoyances and scrapes." A significant portion of the chapter is dedicated to a detailed description of his friend Nord, portraying him as a "remarkable character" with a mysterious and romantic aura, initially reserved but eventually revealed to be a reader of "good books." The narrative also describes the bustling main-deck during dog-watches, where sailors promenade and interact, or choose to remain strangers.
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- 2026-01-30T20:49:51.330Z
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- description_title
- CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.
- end_line
- 1999
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- 2026-01-30T20:47:39.667Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1960
- text
- CHAPTER XIII.
A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.
The allusion to the poet Lemsford in a previous chapter, leads me to
speak of our mutual friends, Nord and Williams, who, with Lemsford
himself, Jack Chase, and my comrades of the main-top, comprised almost
the only persons with whom I unreservedly consorted while on board the
frigate. For I had not been long on board ere I found that it would not
do to be intimate with everybody. An indiscriminate intimacy with all
hands leads to sundry annoyances and scrapes, too often ending with a
dozen at the gang-way. Though I was above a year in the frigate, there
were scores of men who to the last remained perfect strangers to me,
whose very names I did not know, and whom I would hardly be able to
recognise now should I happen to meet them in the streets.
In the dog-watches at sea, during the early part of the evening, the
main-deck is generally filled with crowds of pedestrians, promenading
up and down past the guns, like people taking the air in Broadway. At
such times, it is curious to see the men nodding to each other’s
recognitions (they might not have seen each other for a week);
exchanging a pleasant word with a friend; making a hurried appointment
to meet him somewhere aloft on the morrow, or passing group after group
without deigning the slightest salutation. Indeed, I was not at all
singular in having but comparatively few acquaintances on board, though
certainly carrying my fastidiousness to an unusual extent.
My friend Nord was a somewhat remarkable character; and if mystery
includes romance, he certainly was a very romantic one. Before seeking
an introduction to him through Lemsford, I had often marked his tall,
spare, upright figure stalking like Don Quixote among the pigmies of
the Afterguard, to which he belonged. At first I found him exceedingly
reserved and taciturn; his saturnine brow wore a scowl; he was almost
repelling in his demeanour. In a word, he seemed desirous of hinting,
that his list of man-of war friends was already made up, complete, and
full; and there was no room for more. But observing that the only man
he ever consorted with was Lemsford, I had too much magnanimity, by
going off in a pique at his coldness, to let him lose forever the
chance of making so capital an acquaintance as myself. Besides, I saw
it in his eye, that the man had been a reader of good books; I would
- title
- CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.