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CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.

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# CHAPTER 97. The Lamp. ## Overview "CHAPTER 97. The Lamp." is a section extracted from the plain text file [moby_dick.txt](arke:01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6). This section, labeled "CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.", spans lines 16501 to 16527 and was extracted on January 30, 2026, by the structure-extraction-lambda. It is part of the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection. ## Context This section is part of the chapter [BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_), CHAPTER III. (_Mealy-mouthed Porpoise_)](arke:01KG8AK83BA227D6NY5BT040FM), indicating its place in a structured literary work. It follows [CHAPTER 96. The Try-Works.](arke:01KG8AMA8ZBTY949CN1GV7YMZ7) and precedes [CHAPTER 98. Stowing Down and Clearing Up.](arke:01KG8AMA8W4WKH3T7WHZXDM9W8). ## Contents The section's text describes the use of lamps on a whaling ship, contrasting the scarcity of oil for sailors in merchantmen with the abundance of light enjoyed by whalemen. It highlights the whalemen's practice of using lamps, often old bottles, and the quality of the whale oil they burn. The text emphasizes the purity of the oil and its freshness, comparing the whaleman's pursuit of it to a traveler seeking game.
description_generated_at
2026-01-30T20:51:11.391Z
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gemini-2.5-flash-lite
description_title
CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.
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16527
extracted_at
2026-01-30T20:48:29.272Z
extracted_by
structure-extraction-lambda
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16501
text
CHAPTER 97. The Lamp. Had you descended from the Pequod’s try-works to the Pequod’s forecastle, where the off duty watch were sleeping, for one single moment you would have almost thought you were standing in some illuminated shrine of canonized kings and counsellors. There they lay in their triangular oaken vaults, each mariner a chiselled muteness; a score of lamps flashing upon his hooded eyes. In merchantmen, oil for the sailor is more scarce than the milk of queens. To dress in the dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble in darkness to his pallet, this is his usual lot. But the whaleman, as he seeks the food of light, so he lives in light. He makes his berth an Aladdin’s lamp, and lays him down in it; so that in the pitchiest night the ship’s black hull still houses an illumination. See with what entire freedom the whaleman takes his handful of lamps—often but old bottles and vials, though—to the copper cooler at the try-works, and replenishes them there, as mugs of ale at a vat. He burns, too, the purest of oil, in its unmanufactured, and, therefore, unvitiated state; a fluid unknown to solar, lunar, or astral contrivances ashore. It is sweet as early grass butter in April. He goes and hunts for his oil, so as to be sure of its freshness and genuineness, even as the traveller on the prairie hunts up his own supper of game.
title
CHAPTER 97. The Lamp.

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