{"id":"01KG8AKRZ0TEYEQZK5S7GC4VB7","cid":"bafkreigfop5ixtjvlkvtqoh75zw6wpqi6oyn4qyqsgpfqj6doebhgljwiq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":238,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1H7Y803CZ7X80F0QFHZ","start_line":174,"text":"sail, making so big a bundle that, with my feet resting on the\r\nwindlass, I might have been taken for a sailor with the gout. While\r\nthis was going on, someone removing my tappa cloak slipped on a blue\r\nfrock in its place, and another, actuated by the same desire to make a\r\ncivilized mortal of me, flourished about my head a great pair lie\r\nimminent jeopardy of both ears, and the certain destruction of hair and\r\nbeard.\r\n\r\nThe day was now drawing to a close, and, as the land faded from my\r\nsight, I was all alive to the change in my condition. But how far short\r\nof our expectations is oftentimes the fulfilment of the most ardent\r\nhopes. Safe aboard of a ship—so long my earnest prayer—with home and\r\nfriends once more in prospect, I nevertheless felt weighed down by a\r\nmelancholy that could not be shaken off. It was the thought of never\r\nmore seeing those who, notwithstanding their desire to retain me a\r\ncaptive, had, upon the whole, treated me so kindly. I was leaving them\r\nfor ever.\r\n\r\nSo unforeseen and sudden had been my escape, so excited had I been\r\nthrough it all, and so great the contrast between the luxurious repose\r\nof the valley, and the wild noise and motion of a ship at sea, that at\r\ntimes my recent adventures had all the strangeness of a dream; and I\r\ncould scarcely believe that the same sun now setting over a waste of\r\nwaters, had that very morning risen above the mountains and peered in\r\nupon me as I lay on my mat in Typee.\r\n\r\nGoing below into the forecastle just after dark, I was inducted into a\r\nwretched “bunk” or sleeping-box built over another. The rickety bottoms\r\nof both were spread with several pieces of a blanket. A battered tin\r\ncan was then handed me, containing about half a pint of “tea”—so called\r\nby courtesy, though whether the juice of such stalks as one finds\r\nfloating therein deserves that title, is a matter all shipowners must\r\nsettle with their consciences. A cube of salt beef, on a hard round\r\nbiscuit by way of platter, was also handed up; and without more ado, I\r\nmade a meal, the salt flavour of which, after the Nebuchadnezzar fare\r\nof the valley, was positively delicious.\r\n\r\nWhile thus engaged, an old sailor on a chest just under me was puffing\r\nout volumes of tobacco smoke. My supper finished, he brushed the stem\r\nof his sooty pipe against the sleeve of his frock, and politely waved\r\nit toward me. The attention was sailor-like; as for the nicety of the\r\nthing, no man who has lived in forecastles is at all fastidious; and\r\nso, after a few vigorous whiffs to induce repose, I turned over and\r\ntried my best to forget myself. But in vain. My crib, instead of\r\nextending fore and aft, as it should have done, was placed athwart\r\nships, that is, at right angles to the keel, and the vessel, going\r\nbefore the wind, rolled to such a degree, that-every time my heels went\r\nup and my head went down, I thought I was on the point of turning a\r\nsomerset. Beside this, there were still more annoying causes of\r\ninquietude; and every once in a while a splash of water came down the\r\nopen scuttle, and flung the spray in my face.\r\n\r\nAt last, after a sleepless night, broken twice by the merciless call of\r\nthe watch, a peep of daylight struggled into view from above, and\r\nsomeone came below. It was my old friend with the pipe.\r\n\r\n“Here, shipmate,” said I, “help me out of this place, and let me go on\r\ndeck.”\r\n\r\n“Halloa, who’s that croaking?” was the rejoinder, as he peered into the\r\nobscurity where I lay. “Ay, Typee, my king of the cannibals, is it you\r\nI But I say, my lad, how’s that spar of your’n? the mate says it’s in a\r\ndevil of a way; and last night set the steward to sharpening the\r\nhandsaw: hope he won’t have the carving of ye.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJG6SJ2W83098CMV4TKP0","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1H7Y803CZ7X80F0QFHZ","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKRYSNMDF0J8888PSJ9CV","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKRZ0QJNX4CFPSH7TZE98","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.328Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:22.868Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}