{"id":"01KG8AKVG7571VPQ759N47EZRN","cid":"bafkreiad74egn46xhtqig6vir3v5nwof7ef5dczm72qtxwazy37v2fntlq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2542,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1H7Y803CZ7X80F0QFHZ","start_line":2473,"text":"surprising familiarity with most nautical names and phrases, comprised\r\nabout all the English he knew.\r\n\r\nBeing a harpooner, and, as such, having access to the cabin, this man,\r\nthough not yet civilized, was, according to sea usages, which know no\r\nexceptions, held superior to the sailors; and therefore nothing was\r\nsaid against his being left in charge of the ship; nor did it occasion\r\nany surprise.\r\n\r\nSome additional account must be given of Bembo. In the first place, he\r\nwas far from being liked. A dark, moody savage, everybody but the mate\r\nmore or less distrusted or feared him. Nor were these feelings\r\nunreciprocated. Unless duty called, he seldom went among the crew. Hard\r\nstories too were told about him; something, in particular, concerning\r\nan hereditary propensity to kill men and eat them. True, he came from a\r\nrace of cannibals; but that was all that was known to a certainty.\r\n\r\nWhatever unpleasant ideas were connected with the Mowree, his personal\r\nappearance no way lessened them. Unlike most of his countrymen, he was,\r\nif anything, below the ordinary height; but then, he was all compact,\r\nand under his swart, tattooed skin, the muscles worked like steel rods.\r\nHair, crisp and coal-black, curled over shaggy brows, and ambushed\r\nsmall, intense eyes, always on the glare. In short, he was none of your\r\neffeminate barbarians.\r\n\r\nPrevious to this, he had been two or three voyages in Sydney whalemen;\r\nalways, however, as in the present instance, shipping at the Bay of\r\nIslands, and receiving his discharge there on the homeward-bound\r\npassage. In this way, his countrymen frequently enter on board the\r\ncolonial whaling vessels.\r\n\r\nThere was a man among us who had sailed with the Mowree on his first\r\nvoyage, and he told me that he had not changed a particle since then.\r\n\r\nSome queer things this fellow told me. The following is one of his\r\nstories. I give it for what it is worth; premising, however, that from\r\nwhat I know of Bembo, and the foolhardy, dare-devil feats sometimes\r\nperformed in the sperm-whale fishery, I believe in its substantial\r\ntruth.\r\n\r\nAs may be believed, Bembo was a wild one after a fish; indeed, all New\r\nZealanders engaged in this business are; it seems to harmonize sweetly\r\nwith their blood-thirsty propensities. At sea, the best English they\r\nspeak is the South Seaman’s slogan in lowering away, “A dead whale, or\r\na stove boat!” Game to the marrow, these fellows are generally selected\r\nfor harpooners; a post in which a nervous, timid man would be rather\r\nout of his element.\r\n\r\nIn darting, the harpooner, of course, stands erect in the head of the\r\nboat, one knee braced against a support. But Bembo disdained this; and\r\nwas always pulled up to his fish, balancing himself right on the\r\ngunwale.\r\n\r\nBut to my story. One morning, at daybreak, they brought him up to a\r\nlarge, long whale. He darted his harpoon, and missed; and the fish\r\nsounded. After a while, the monster rose again, about a mile off, and\r\nthey made after him. But he was frightened, or “gallied,” as they call\r\nit; and noon came, and the boat was still chasing him. In whaling, as\r\nlong as the fish is in sight, and no matter what may have been\r\npreviously undergone, there is no giving up, except when night comes;\r\nand nowadays, when whales are so hard to be got, frequently not even\r\nthen. At last, Bembo’s whale was alongside for the second time. He\r\ndarted both harpoons; but, as sometimes happens to the best men, by\r\nsome unaccountable chance, once more missed. Though it is well known\r\nthat such failures will happen at times, they, nevertheless, occasion\r\nthe bitterest disappointment to a boat’s crew, generally expressed in\r\ncurses both loud and deep. And no wonder. Let any man pull with might\r\nand main for hours and hours together, under a burning sun; and if it\r\ndo not make him a little peevish, he is no sailor.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJH07Y1Q0CCD1EWKJXEM0","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1H7Y803CZ7X80F0QFHZ","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKVG71R6VN2CXA3WTXHGA","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKVG70CB3R02EWQ2T3157","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:17.927Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:25.271Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}