{"id":"01KG8AKVTXAG2ZCVC3RTS0HT8Y","cid":"bafkreiebn7wk3utlu4hzxkyzvfz7skx3x5sdnwp2bycnij4gnq26sikkia","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3284,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","start_line":3219,"text":"leather strap, nailed to the keg where he kept the fat skimmed off the\r\nwater in which the salt beef was cooked. I could hardly believe my eyes\r\nwhen I found this book was the Bible.\r\n\r\nI loved to peep in upon him, when he was thus absorbed; for his smoky\r\nstudio or study was a strange-looking place enough; not more than five\r\nfeet square, and about as many high; a mere box to hold the stove, the\r\npipe of which stuck out of the roof.\r\n\r\nWithin, it was hung round with pots and pans; and on one side was a\r\nlittle looking-glass, where he used to shave; and on a small shelf were\r\nhis shaving tools, and a comb and brush. Fronting the stove, and very\r\nclose to it, was a sort of narrow shelf, where he used to sit with his\r\nlegs spread out very wide, to keep them from scorching; and there, with\r\nhis book in one hand, and a pewter spoon in the other, he sat all that\r\nSunday morning, stirring up his pots, and studying away at the same\r\ntime; seldom taking his eye off the page. Reading must have been very\r\nhard work for him; for he muttered to himself quite loud as he read;\r\nand big drops of sweat would stand upon his brow, and roll off, till\r\nthey hissed on the hot stove before him. But on the day I speak of, it\r\nwas no wonder that he got perplexed, for he was reading a mysterious\r\npassage in the Book of Chronicles. Being aware that I knew how to read,\r\nhe called me as I was passing his premises, and read the passage over,\r\ndemanding an explanation. I told him it was a mystery that no one could\r\nexplain; not even a parson. But this did not satisfy him, and I left\r\nhim poring over it still.\r\n\r\nHe must have been a member of one of those negro churches, which are to\r\nbe found in New York. For when we lay at the wharf, I remembered that a\r\ncommittee of three reverend looking old darkies, who, besides their\r\nnatural canonicals, wore quaker-cut black coats, and broad-brimmed\r\nblack hats, and white neck-cloths; these colored gentlemen called upon\r\nhim, and remained conversing with him at his cookhouse door for more\r\nthan an hour; and before they went away they stepped inside, and the\r\nsliding doors were closed; and then we heard some one reading aloud and\r\npreaching; and after that a psalm was sung and a benediction given;\r\nwhen the door opened again, and the congregation came out in a great\r\nperspiration; owing, I suppose, to the chapel being so small, and there\r\nbeing only one seat besides the stove.\r\n\r\nBut notwithstanding his religious studies and meditations, this old\r\nfellow used to use some bad language occasionally; particularly of\r\ncold, wet stormy mornings, when he had to get up before daylight and\r\nmake his fire; with the sea breaking over the bows, and now and then\r\ndashing into his stove.\r\n\r\nSo, under the circumstances, you could not blame him much, if he did\r\nrip a little, for it would have tried old Job’s temper, to be set to\r\nwork making a fire in the water.\r\n\r\nWithout being at all neat about his premises, this old cook was very\r\nparticular about them; he had a warm love and affection for his\r\ncook-house. In fair weather, he spread the skirt of an old jacket\r\nbefore the door, by way of a mat; and screwed a small ring-bolt into\r\nthe door for a knocker; and wrote his name, “Mr. Thompson,” over it,\r\nwith a bit of red chalk.\r\n\r\nThe men said he lived round the corner of _Forecastle-square,_ opposite\r\nthe _Liberty Pole;_ because his cook-house was right behind the\r\nforemast, and very near the quarters occupied by themselves.\r\n\r\nSailors have a great fancy for naming things that way on shipboard.\r\nWhen a man is hung at sea, which is always done from one of the lower\r\nyard-arms, they say he _“takes a walk up Ladder-lane, and down\r\nHemp-street.”_\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJQ1D7GTGSF30NZ8F2XDX","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1GP71YDJ60P8SRH97MF","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKVTXP0NDF2A8B5SNXVSM","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKVTXKD6YV8QMSA0KVC8R","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:18.269Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:27.061Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}