- end_line
- 255
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 230
- text
- “Here, shipmate,” said I, “help me out of this place, and let me go on
deck.”
“Halloa, who’s that croaking?” was the rejoinder, as he peered into the
obscurity where I lay. “Ay, Typee, my king of the cannibals, is it you
I But I say, my lad, how’s that spar of your’n? the mate says it’s in a
devil of a way; and last night set the steward to sharpening the
handsaw: hope he won’t have the carving of ye.”
Long before daylight we arrived off the bay of Nukuheva, and making
short tacks until morning, we then ran in and sent a boat ashore with
the natives who had brought me to the ship. Upon its return, we made
sail again, and stood off from the land. There was a fine breeze; and
notwithstanding my bad night’s rest, the cool, fresh air of a morning
at sea was so bracing, mat, as soon as I breathed it, my spirits rose
at once.
Seated upon the windlass the greater portion of the day, and chatting
freely with the men, I learned the history of the voyage thus far, and
everything respecting the ship and its present condition.
These matters I will now throw together in the next chapter.
- title
- Chunk 3