{"id":"01KG8AKWPPD9D58N5D46YVWJJ9","cid":"bafkreid3xoh474iwpejtbwv4whqljg6cnakcmqtdzaezjg4ubp4iqjxbl4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3877,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.023Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 14","source_file":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","start_line":3800,"text":"subterraneous sort of den for family groups of the blacks, mostly women\r\nand small children; who, squatting on old mats below, or perched above\r\nin the dark dome, on the elevated seats, were descried, some distance\r\nwithin, like a social circle of bats, sheltering in some friendly cave;\r\nat intervals, ebon flights of naked boys and girls, three or four years\r\nold, darting in and out of the den’s mouth.\r\n\r\n“Had you three or four boats now, Don Benito,” said Captain Delano, “I\r\nthink that, by tugging at the oars, your negroes here might help along\r\nmatters some. Did you sail from port without boats, Don Benito?”\r\n\r\n“They were stove in the gales, Señor.”\r\n\r\n“That was bad. Many men, too, you lost then. Boats and men. Those must\r\nhave been hard gales, Don Benito.”\r\n\r\n“Past all speech,” cringed the Spaniard.\r\n\r\n“Tell me, Don Benito,” continued his companion with increased interest,\r\n“tell me, were these gales immediately off the pitch of Cape Horn?”\r\n\r\n“Cape Horn?—who spoke of Cape Horn?”\r\n\r\n“Yourself did, when giving me an account of your voyage,” answered\r\nCaptain Delano, with almost equal astonishment at this eating of his\r\nown words, even as he ever seemed eating his own heart, on the part of\r\nthe Spaniard. “You yourself, Don Benito, spoke of Cape Horn,” he\r\nemphatically repeated.\r\n\r\nThe Spaniard turned, in a sort of stooping posture, pausing an instant,\r\nas one about to make a plunging exchange of elements, as from air to\r\nwater.\r\n\r\nAt this moment a messenger-boy, a white, hurried by, in the regular\r\nperformance of his function carrying the last expired half hour forward\r\nto the forecastle, from the cabin time-piece, to have it struck at the\r\nship’s large bell.\r\n\r\n“Master,” said the servant, discontinuing his work on the coat sleeve,\r\nand addressing the rapt Spaniard with a sort of timid apprehensiveness,\r\nas one charged with a duty, the discharge of which, it was foreseen,\r\nwould prove irksome to the very person who had imposed it, and for\r\nwhose benefit it was intended, “master told me never mind where he was,\r\nor how engaged, always to remind him to a minute, when shaving-time\r\ncomes. Miguel has gone to strike the half-hour afternoon. It is _now_,\r\nmaster. Will master go into the cuddy?”\r\n\r\n“Ah—yes,” answered the Spaniard, starting, as from dreams into\r\nrealities; then turning upon Captain Delano, he said that ere long he\r\nwould resume the conversation.\r\n\r\n“Then if master means to talk more to Don Amasa,” said the servant,\r\n“why not let Don Amasa sit by master in the cuddy, and master can talk,\r\nand Don Amasa can listen, while Babo here lathers and strops.”\r\n\r\n“Yes,” said Captain Delano, not unpleased with this sociable plan,\r\n“yes, Don Benito, unless you had rather not, I will go with you.”\r\n\r\n“Be it so, Señor.”\r\n\r\nAs the three passed aft, the American could not but think it another\r\nstrange instance of his host’s capriciousness, this being shaved with\r\nsuch uncommon punctuality in the middle of the day. But he deemed it\r\nmore than likely that the servant’s anxious fidelity had something to\r\ndo with the matter; inasmuch as the timely interruption served to rally\r\nhis master from the mood which had evidently been coming upon him.\r\n\r\nThe place called the cuddy was a light deck-cabin formed by the poop, a\r\nsort of attic to the large cabin below. Part of it had formerly been\r\nthe quarters of the officers; but since their death all the\r\npartitioning had been thrown down, and the whole interior converted\r\ninto one spacious and airy marine hall; for absence of fine furniture\r\nand picturesque disarray of odd appurtenances, somewhat answering to\r\nthe wide, cluttered hall of some eccentric bachelor-squire in the\r\ncountry, who hangs his shooting-jacket and tobacco-pouch on deer\r\nantlers, and keeps his fishing-rod, tongs, and walking-stick in the\r\nsame corner.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 14"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK2X9P0E5X4X6Z77F9M13","peer_type":"intro","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKVZGE695M7D76GA7Z0HB","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKWPNMETHFW6KZP3QJBSB","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.158Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:25.762Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}