- end_line
- 4577
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4546
- text
- they found themselves going down, down, down, and bidding good-by
forever to the moon and stars.
And they little think, many of them, fine gentlemen and ladies that
they are, what an important personage, and how much to be had in
reverence, is the rough fellow in the pea-jacket, whom they see
standing at the wheel, now cocking his eye aloft, and then peeping at
the compass, or looking out to windward.
Why, that fellow has all your lives and eternities in his hand; and
with one small and almost imperceptible motion of a spoke, in a gale of
wind, might give a vast deal of work to surrogates and lawyers, in
proving last wills and testaments.
Ay, you may well stare at him now. He does not look much like a man who
might play into the hands of an heir-at-law, does he? Yet such is the
case. Watch him close, therefore; take him down into your state-room
occasionally after a stormy watch, and make a friend of him. A glass of
cordial will do it. And if you or your heirs are interested with the
underwriters, then also have an eye on him. And if you remark, that of
the crew, all the men who come to the helm are careless, or
inefficient; and if you observe the captain scolding them often, and
crying out: _“Luff, you rascal; she’s falling off!”_ or, _“Keep her
steady, you scoundrel, you’re boxing the compass!”_ then hurry down to
your state-room, and if you have not yet made a will, get out your
stationery and go at it; and when it is done, seal it up in a bottle,
like Columbus’ log, and it may possibly drift ashore, when you are
drowned in the next gale of wind.
- title
- Chunk 3