- description
- # Still another way of killing time in harbour, is to lean over the bulwarks, and speculate
## Overview
This is a section extracted from the text file [white_jacket.txt](arke:01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY), discussing another method of passing time while a man-of-war is in harbor. It is part of [CHAPTER XLII. KILLING TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR.](arke:01KG8AJS2XNNYG8VJ0DMZ113C3) within the novel *White-Jacket*.
## Context
This section is part of a larger discussion within [CHAPTER XLII. KILLING TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR.](arke:01KG8AJS2XNNYG8VJ0DMZ113C3) of Herman Melville's *White-Jacket*. The chapter explores various ways sailors occupy their time while confined to their ship in port. This section follows a description of playing checkers as a means of alleviating boredom and precedes a reflection on sleeping as a pastime. The text file [white_jacket.txt](arke:01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY) is part of the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection.
## Contents
The section describes the practice of leaning over the ship's bulwarks and contemplating one's whereabouts on the same day in the following year. The narrator reflects on a particular day of the year that he has always remembered since childhood, recalling where he was on that day each year since the age of twelve. He notes that mentally reviewing this personal "almanac" is more entertaining than reading logarithms. The narrator also mentions celebrating the anniversary of this day with lamb, peas, and sherry in the spring, a tradition he could not maintain while aboard the *Neversink*.
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- Still another way of killing time in harbour, is to lean over the bulwarks, and speculate
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- text
- Still another way of killing time in harbour, is to lean over the
bulwarks, and speculate upon where, under the sun, you are going to be
that day next year, which is a subject full of interest to every living
soul; so much so, that there is a particular day of a particular month
of the year, which, from my earliest recollections, I have always kept
the run of, so that I can even now tell just where I was on that
identical day of every year past since I was twelve years old. And,
when I am all alone, to run over this almanac in my mind is almost as
entertaining as to read your own diary, and far more interesting than
to peruse a table of logarithms on a rainy afternoon. I always keep the
anniversary of that day with lamb and peas, and a pint of sherry, for
it comes in Spring. But when it came round in the Neversink, I could
get neither lamb, peas, nor sherry.
- title
- Still another way of killing time in harbour, is to lean over the bulwarks, and speculate