I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape1 Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was on a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.
As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark2 on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous3 something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolizing4 the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original-- the Tyre of this Carthage;--the place where the first dead American whale was stranded5. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal6 whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous7 little sloop8 put forth9, partly laden10 with imported cobblestones--so goes the story-- to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon11 from the bowsprit?
Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere I could embark for my destined12 port, it became a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was a very dubious-looking, nay13, a very dark and dismal14 night, bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver,--So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary15 street shouldering my bag, and comparing the gloom towards the north with the darkness towards the south--wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge16 for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don't be too particular.
With halting steps I paced the streets, and passed the sign of "The Crossed Harpoons"--but it looked too expensive and jolly there. Further on, from the bright red windows of the "Sword-Fish Inn," there came such fervent17 rays, that it seemed to have melted the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere else the congealed18 frost lay ten inches thick in a hard, asphaltic pavement,--rather weary for me, when I struck my foot against the flinty projections20, because from hard, remorseless service the soles of my boots were in a most miserable21 plight22. Too expensive and jolly, again thought I, pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street, and hear the sounds of the tinkling23 glasses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at last; don't you hear? get away from before the door; your patched boots are stopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct followed the streets that took me waterward, for there, doubtless, were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest inns.
Such dreary streets! Blocks of blackness, not houses, on either hand, and here and there a candle, like a candle moving about in a tomb. At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter of the town proved all but deserted24. But presently I came to a smoky light proceeding25 from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly26 open. It had a careless look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering, the first thing I did was to stumble over an ash-box in the porch. Ha! thought I, ha, as the flying particles almost choked me, are these ashes from that destroyed city, Gomorrah? But "The Crossed Harpoons," and the "The Sword-Fish?"--this, then must needs be the sign of "The Trap." However, I picked myself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second, interior door.
It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting in Tophet. A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer; and beyond, a black Angel of Doom27 was beating a book in a pulpit. It was a negro church; and the preacher's text was about the blackness of darkness, and the weeping and wailing28 and teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered I, backing out, Wretched entertainment at the sign of 'The Trap!'
Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing a tall straight jet of misty29 spray, and these words underneath--"The Spouter30 Inn:--Peter Coffin31."
Coffin?--Spouter?--Rather ominous32 in that particular connexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant33 from there. As the light looked so dim, and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated little wooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruins of some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort of creak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings34, and the best of pea coffee.
It was a queer sort of place--a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly. It stood on a sharp bleak35 corner, where that tempestuous36 wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty37 pleasant zephyr38 to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed. In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer--of whose works I possess the only copy extant--"it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier." True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind--old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn't stop up the chinks and the crannies though, and thrust in a little lint19 here and there. But it's too late to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone is on, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering39 his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off his tatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken wrapper--(he had a redder one afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty night; how Orion glitters; what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting40 conservatories41; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals.
But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery42 pit itself, in order to keep out this frost?
Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded there on the curbstone before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an iceberg43 should be moored44 to one of the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too lives like a Czar in an ice palace made of frozen sighs, and being a president of a temperance society, he only drinks the tepid45 tears of orphans46.
But no more of this blubbering now, we are going a-whaling, and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us scrape the ice from our frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this "Spouter" may be.
1 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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2 embark | |
vi.乘船,着手,从事,上飞机 | |
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3 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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4 monopolizing | |
v.垄断( monopolize的现在分词 );独占;专卖;专营 | |
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5 stranded | |
a.搁浅的,进退两难的 | |
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6 aboriginal | |
adj.(指动植物)土生的,原产地的,土著的 | |
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7 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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8 sloop | |
n.单桅帆船 | |
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9 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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10 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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11 harpoon | |
n.鱼叉;vt.用鱼叉叉,用鱼叉捕获 | |
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12 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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13 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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14 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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15 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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16 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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17 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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18 congealed | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
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19 lint | |
n.线头;绷带用麻布,皮棉 | |
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20 projections | |
预测( projection的名词复数 ); 投影; 投掷; 突起物 | |
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21 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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22 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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23 tinkling | |
n.丁当作响声 | |
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24 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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25 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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26 invitingly | |
adv. 动人地 | |
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27 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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28 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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29 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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30 spouter | |
喷油井;捕鲸船;说话滔滔不绝的人;照管流出槽的工人 | |
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31 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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32 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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33 emigrant | |
adj.移居的,移民的;n.移居外国的人,移民 | |
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34 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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35 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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36 tempestuous | |
adj.狂暴的 | |
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37 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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38 zephyr | |
n.和风,微风 | |
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39 chattering | |
n. (机器振动发出的)咔嗒声,(鸟等)鸣,啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的,啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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40 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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41 conservatories | |
n.(培植植物的)温室,暖房( conservatory的名词复数 ) | |
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42 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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43 iceberg | |
n.冰山,流冰,冷冰冰的人 | |
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44 moored | |
adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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45 tepid | |
adj.微温的,温热的,不太热心的 | |
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46 orphans | |
孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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