{"id":"01KG8AKWWKT7CYDNPKFQA0RSSP","cid":"bafkreidv4hmlq4klm5zta6xqdvehueeunpotrwugywpevcmqo52ot6ff54","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":957,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:18.534Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1HYC04JWXEK48P07WPK","start_line":878,"text":"CHAPTER VI.\r\nEight Bells\r\n\r\n\r\nThe moon must be monstrous coy, or some things fall out opportunely, or\r\nelse almanacs are consulted by nocturnal adventurers; but so it is,\r\nthat when Cynthia shows a round and chubby disk, few daring deeds are\r\ndone. Though true it may be, that of moonlight nights, jewelers’\r\ncaskets and maidens’ hearts have been burglariously broken into—and\r\nrifled, for aught Copernicus can tell.\r\n\r\nThe gentle planet was in her final quarter, and upon her slender horn I\r\nhung my hopes of withdrawing from the ship undetected.\r\n\r\nNow, making a tranquil passage across the ocean, we kept at this time\r\nwhat are called among whalemen “boatscrew-watches.” That is, instead of\r\nthe sailors being divided at night into two bands, alternately on deck\r\nevery four hours, there were four watches, each composed of a boat’s\r\ncrew, the “headsman” (always one of the mates) excepted. To the\r\nofficers, this plan gives uninterrupted repose—“all-night-in,” as they\r\ncall it, and of course greatly lightens the duties of the crew.\r\n\r\nThe harpooneers head the boats’ crews, and are responsible for the ship\r\nduring the continuance of their watches.\r\n\r\nNow, my Viking being a stalwart seaman, pulled the midship oar of the\r\nboat of which I was bowsman. Hence, we were in the same watch; to\r\nwhich, also, three others belonged, including Mark, the harpooner. One\r\nof these seamen, however, being an invalid, there were only two left\r\nfor us to manage.\r\n\r\nVoyaging in these seas, you may glide along for weeks without starting\r\ntack or sheet, hardly moving the helm a spoke, so mild and constant are\r\nthe Trades. At night, the watch seldom trouble themselves with keeping\r\nmuch of a look-out; especially, as a strange sail is almost a prodigy\r\nin these lonely waters. In some ships, for weeks in and weeks out, you\r\nare puzzled to tell when your nightly turn on deck really comes round;\r\nso little heed is given to the standing of watches, where in the\r\nlicense of presumed safety, nearly every one nods without fear.\r\n\r\nBut remiss as you may be in the boats-crew-watch of a heedless\r\nwhaleman, the man who heads it is bound to maintain his post on the\r\nquarter-deck until regularly relieved. Yet drowsiness being incidental\r\nto all natures, even to Napoleon, beside his own sentry napping in the\r\nsnowy bivouac; so, often, in snowy moonlight, or ebon eclipse, dozed\r\nMark, our harpooneer. Lethe be his portion this blessed night, thought\r\nI, as during the morning which preceded our enterprise, I eyed the man\r\nwho might possibly cross my plans.\r\n\r\nBut let me come closer to this part of my story. During what are called\r\nat sea the “dog-watches” (between four o’clock and eight in the\r\nevening), sailors are quite lively and frolicsome; their spirits even\r\nflow far into the first of the long “night-watches;” but upon its\r\nexpiration at “eight bells” (midnight), silence begins to reign; if you\r\nhear a voice it is no cherub’s: all exclamations are oaths.\r\n\r\nAt eight bells, the mariners on deck, now relieved from their cares,\r\ncrawl out from their sleepy retreats in old monkey jackets, or coils of\r\nrigging, and hie to their hammocks, almost without interrupting their\r\ndreams: while the sluggards below lazily drag themselves up the ladder\r\nto resume their slumbers in the open air.\r\n\r\nFor these reasons then, the moonless sea midnight was just the time to\r\nescape. Hence, we suffered a whole day to pass unemployed; waiting for\r\nthe night, when the star board-quarter-boats’-watch, to which we\r\nbelonged, would be summoned on deck at the eventful eight of the bell.\r\n\r\nBut twenty-four hours soon glide away; and “Starboleens ahoy; eight\r\nbells there below;” at last started me from a troubled doze.\r\n\r\nI sprang from my hammock, and would have lighted my pipe. But the\r\nforecastle lamp had gone out. An old sea-dog was talking about sharks\r\nin his sleep. Jarl and our solitary watch-mate were groping their way\r\ninto their trowsers. And little was heard but the humming of the still\r\nsails aloft; the dash of the waves against the bow; and the deep\r\nbreathing of the dreaming sailors around.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJP4H75ZZ83V0ZADEW8B8","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1HYC04JWXEK48P07WPK","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"}],"ver":1,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.347Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.347Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}