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- 6372
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.591Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6311
- text
- “And what port are we bound to, now?”
“Let me see—homeward-bound—Falmouth, sir.”
“What sort of a place is Boston?”
“Pretty considerable of a place, sir.”
“Very straight streets, ain’t they?”
“Yes, sir; cow-paths, cut by sheep-walks, and intersected with
hen-tracks.”
“When did we fire the first gun?”
“Well, sir, just as we were leaving Falmouth, ten months
ago—signal-gun, sir.”
“Where did we fire the first _shotted_ gun, sir?—and what was the name
of the privateer we took upon that occasion?”
“’Pears to me, sir, at that time I was on the sick list. Yes, sir, that
must have been the time; I had the brain fever, and lost my mind for a
while.”
“Master-at-arms, take this man away.”
“Where shall I take him, sir?” touching his cap.
“Go, and air him on the forecastle.”
So they resumed their devious wanderings. At last, they descended to
the berth-deck. It being now breakfast-time, the master-at-arms, a
good-humored man, very kindly’ introduced our hero to his mess, and
presented him with breakfast, during which he in vain endeavored, by
all sorts of subtle blandishments, to worm out his secret.
At length Israel was set at liberty; and whenever there was any
important duty to be done, volunteered to it with such cheerful
alacrity, and approved himself so docile and excellent a seaman, that
he conciliated the approbation of all the officers, as well as the
captain; while his general sociability served, in the end, to turn in
his favor the suspicious hearts of the mariners. Perceiving his good
qualities, both as a sailor and man, the captain of the maintop applied
for his admission into that section of the ship; where, still improving
upon his former reputation, our hero did duty for the residue of the
voyage.
One pleasant afternoon, the last of the passage, when the ship was
nearing the Lizard, within a few hours’ sail of her port, the
officer-of-the-deck, happening to glance upwards towards the maintop,
descried Israel there, leaning very leisurely over the rail, looking
mildly down where the officer stood.
“Well, Peter Perkins, you seem to belong to the maintop, after all.”
“I always told you so, sir,” smiled Israel benevolently down upon him,
“though, at first, you remember, sir, you would not believe it.”
- title
- Chunk 8