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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- sail, making so big a bundle that, with my feet resting on the
windlass, I might have been taken for a sailor with the gout. While
this was going on, someone removing my tappa cloak slipped on a blue
frock in its place, and another, actuated by the same desire to make a
civilized mortal of me, flourished about my head a great pair lie
imminent jeopardy of both ears, and the certain destruction of hair and
beard.
The day was now drawing to a close, and, as the land faded from my
sight, I was all alive to the change in my condition. But how far short
of our expectations is oftentimes the fulfilment of the most ardent
hopes. Safe aboard of a ship—so long my earnest prayer—with home and
friends once more in prospect, I nevertheless felt weighed down by a
melancholy that could not be shaken off. It was the thought of never
more seeing those who, notwithstanding their desire to retain me a
captive, had, upon the whole, treated me so kindly. I was leaving them
for ever.
So unforeseen and sudden had been my escape, so excited had I been
through it all, and so great the contrast between the luxurious repose
of the valley, and the wild noise and motion of a ship at sea, that at
times my recent adventures had all the strangeness of a dream; and I
could scarcely believe that the same sun now setting over a waste of
waters, had that very morning risen above the mountains and peered in
upon me as I lay on my mat in Typee.
Going below into the forecastle just after dark, I was inducted into a
wretched “bunk” or sleeping-box built over another. The rickety bottoms
of both were spread with several pieces of a blanket. A battered tin
can was then handed me, containing about half a pint of “tea”—so called
by courtesy, though whether the juice of such stalks as one finds
floating therein deserves that title, is a matter all shipowners must
settle with their consciences. A cube of salt beef, on a hard round
biscuit by way of platter, was also handed up; and without more ado, I
made a meal, the salt flavour of which, after the Nebuchadnezzar fare
of the valley, was positively delicious.
While thus engaged, an old sailor on a chest just under me was puffing
out volumes of tobacco smoke. My supper finished, he brushed the stem
of his sooty pipe against the sleeve of his frock, and politely waved
it toward me. The attention was sailor-like; as for the nicety of the
thing, no man who has lived in forecastles is at all fastidious; and
so, after a few vigorous whiffs to induce repose, I turned over and
tried my best to forget myself. But in vain. My crib, instead of
extending fore and aft, as it should have done, was placed athwart
ships, that is, at right angles to the keel, and the vessel, going
before the wind, rolled to such a degree, that-every time my heels went
up and my head went down, I thought I was on the point of turning a
somerset. Beside this, there were still more annoying causes of
inquietude; and every once in a while a splash of water came down the
open scuttle, and flung the spray in my face.
At last, after a sleepless night, broken twice by the merciless call of
the watch, a peep of daylight struggled into view from above, and
someone came below. It was my old friend with the pipe.
“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.”
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