{"id":"01KF7FPPZ7HBXTXKF2PQN4QATF","cid":"bafkreig3md5eg3hpbjizb6upwlbp6da5b2xbhzcc3c7w3gtujwnfcct35e","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2127,"extracted_at":"2026-01-18T02:42:17.944Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 6","source_file":"01KESYVB66H8YEVTN88DWE9W8D","start_line":2064,"text":"of the storm. Each silent worshipper seemed purposely sitting apart\r\nfrom the other, as if each silent grief were insular and\r\nincommunicable. The chaplain had not yet arrived; and there these\r\nsilent islands of men and women sat steadfastly eyeing several marble\r\ntablets, with black borders, masoned into the wall on either side the\r\npulpit. Three of them ran something like the following, but I do not\r\npretend to quote:—\r\n\r\nSACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN TALBOT, Who, at the age of eighteen, was\r\nlost overboard, Near the Isle of Desolation, off Patagonia, _November_\r\n1_st_, 1836. THIS TABLET Is erected to his Memory BY HIS SISTER.\r\n\r\nSACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT LONG, WILLIS ELLERY, NATHAN COLEMAN,\r\nWALTER CANNY, SETH MACY, AND SAMUEL GLEIG, Forming one of the boats’\r\ncrews OF THE SHIP ELIZA Who were towed out of sight by a Whale, On the\r\nOff-shore Ground in the PACIFIC, _December_ 31_st_, 1839. THIS MARBLE\r\nIs here placed by their surviving SHIPMATES.\r\n\r\nSACRED TO THE MEMORY OF The late CAPTAIN EZEKIEL HARDY, Who in the bows\r\nof his boat was killed by a Sperm Whale on the coast of Japan, _August_\r\n3_d_, 1833. THIS TABLET Is erected to his Memory BY HIS WIDOW.\r\n\r\nShaking off the sleet from my ice-glazed hat and jacket, I seated\r\nmyself near the door, and turning sideways was surprised to see\r\nQueequeg near me. Affected by the solemnity of the scene, there was a\r\nwondering gaze of incredulous curiosity in his countenance. This savage\r\nwas the only person present who seemed to notice my entrance; because\r\nhe was the only one who could not read, and, therefore, was not reading\r\nthose frigid inscriptions on the wall. Whether any of the relatives of\r\nthe seamen whose names appeared there were now among the congregation,\r\nI knew not; but so many are the unrecorded accidents in the fishery,\r\nand so plainly did several women present wear the countenance if not\r\nthe trappings of some unceasing grief, that I feel sure that here\r\nbefore me were assembled those, in whose unhealing hearts the sight of\r\nthose bleak tablets sympathetically caused the old wounds to bleed\r\nafresh.\r\n\r\nOh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing\r\namong flowers can say—here, _here_ lies my beloved; ye know not the\r\ndesolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in\r\nthose black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in\r\nthose immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden\r\ninfidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse\r\nresurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a\r\ngrave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as\r\nhere.\r\n\r\nIn what census of living creatures, the dead of mankind are included;\r\nwhy it is that a universal proverb says of them, that they tell no\r\ntales, though containing more secrets than the Goodwin Sands; how it is\r\nthat to his name who yesterday departed for the other world, we prefix\r\nso significant and infidel a word, and yet do not thus entitle him, if\r\nhe but embarks for the remotest Indies of this living earth; why the\r\nLife Insurance Companies pay death-forfeitures upon immortals; in what\r\neternal, unstirring paralysis, and deadly, hopeless trance, yet lies\r\nantique Adam who died sixty round centuries ago; how it is that we\r\nstill refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are\r\ndwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all\r\nthe dead; wherefore but the rumor of a knocking in a tomb will terrify\r\na whole city. All these things are not without their meanings.\r\n\r\nBut Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these\r\ndead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 6"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KF7FPMMNM5YQGSAV1J5A319H","peer_label":"Wheelbarrow","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KF7FPMMNM5YQGSAV1J5A319H","peer_label":"Wheelbarrow","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KF7FPKDT5SHSH1ZQV6ABHQCA","peer_label":"Moby Dick; Or, The Whale","peer_type":"book","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KESYJX0Z6XE0HWTS5N3SDG0B","peer_label":"The Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KF7FPQ1425PBRWHF8Q3Z2ZDB","peer_label":"Chunk 7","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"},{"peer":"01KF7FPQ1YCXVRNM9NAJY275HN","peer_label":"Chunk 5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-18T02:42:18.387Z","ts":"2026-01-18T02:42:26.514Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KF7FCDA7SCSJ6A30TDPDSJQV"}}