{"id":"01KG8AMESSEY2DB37KH998520J","cid":"bafkreicpjbiljy22fldb3uow7svz3kvla7kst5yh3xhdzzlkr4quqdufmq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2389,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.270Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":2319,"text":"our _salt horse_.\r\n\r\nI sometimes thought that the junks of lean pork—which were boiled in\r\ntheir own bristles, and looked gaunt and grim, like pickled chins of\r\nhalf-famished, unwashed Cossacks—had something to do with creating the\r\nbristling bitterness at times prevailing in our mess. The men tore off\r\nthe tough hide from their pork, as if they were Indians scalping\r\nChristians.\r\n\r\nSome cursed the cook for a rogue, who kept from us our butter and\r\ncheese, in order to make away with it himself in an underhand manner;\r\nselling it at a premium to other messes, and thus accumulating a\r\nprincely fortune at our expense. Others anthematised him for his\r\nslovenliness, casting hypercritical glances into their pots and pans,\r\nand scraping them with their knives. Then he would be railed at for his\r\nmiserable “duffs,” and other shortcoming preparations.\r\n\r\nMarking all this from the beginning, I, White-Jacket, was sorely\r\ntroubled with the idea, that, in the course of time, my own turn would\r\ncome round to undergo the same objurgations. How to escape, I knew not.\r\nHowever, when the dreaded period arrived, I received the keys of office\r\n(the keys of the mess-chest) with a resigned temper, and offered up a\r\ndevout ejaculation for fortitude under the trial. I resolved, please\r\nHeaven, to approve myself an unexceptionable caterer, and the most\r\nimpartial of stewards.\r\n\r\nThe first day there was “_duff_” to make—a business which devolved upon\r\nthe mess-cooks, though the boiling of it pertained to Old Coffee and\r\nhis deputies. I made up my mind to lay myself out on that _duff_; to\r\ncentre all my energies upon it; to put the very soul of art into it,\r\nand achieve an unrivalled _duff_—a _duff_ that should put out of\r\nconceit all other _duffs_, and for ever make my administration\r\nmemorable.\r\n\r\nFrom the proper functionary the flour was obtained, and the raisins;\r\nthe beef-fat, or “_slush_,” from Old Coffee; and the requisite supply\r\nof water from the scuttle-butt. I then went among the various cooks, to\r\ncompare their receipts for making “duffs:” and having well weighed them\r\nall, and gathered from each a choice item to make an original receipt\r\nof my own, with due deliberation and solemnity I proceeded to business.\r\nPlacing the component parts in a tin pan, I kneaded them together for\r\nan hour, entirely reckless as to pulmonary considerations, touching the\r\nruinous expenditure of breath; and having decanted the semi-liquid\r\ndough into a canvas-bag, secured the muzzle, tied on the tally, and\r\ndelivered it to Rose-water, who dropped the precious bag into the\r\ncoppers, along with a score or two of others.\r\n\r\nEight bells had struck. The boatswain and his mates had piped the hands\r\nto dinner; my mess-cloth was set out, and my messmates were assembled,\r\nknife in hand, all ready to precipitate themselves upon the devoted\r\n_duff_: Waiting at the grand cookery till my turn came, I received the\r\nbag of pudding, and gallanting it into the mess, proceeded to loosen\r\nthe string.\r\n\r\nIt was an anxious, I may say, a fearful moment. My hands trembled;\r\nevery eye was upon me; my reputation and credit were at stake. Slowly I\r\nundressed the _duff_, dandling it upon my knee, much as a nurse does a\r\nbaby about bed-time. The excitement increased, as I curled down the bag\r\nfrom the pudding; it became intense, when at last I plumped it into the\r\npan, held up to receive it by an eager hand. Bim! it fell like a man\r\nshot down in a riot. Distraction! It was harder than a sinner’s heart;\r\nyea, tough as the cock that crowed on the morn that Peter told a lie.\r\n\r\n“Gentlemen of the mess, for heaven’s sake! permit me one word. I have\r\ndone my duty by that duff—I have——”\r\n\r\nBut they beat down my excuses with a storm of criminations. One present\r\nproposed that the fatal pudding should be tied round my neck, like a\r\nmill-stone, and myself pushed overboard. No use, no use; I had failed;\r\never after, that duff lay heavy at my stomach and my heart.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJQ3JZG0J0ZTJQ5TQ2KVE","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMESJRA3D73KG8DGZ7JJA","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMFC6TGKCYAPRQ0GJP6PN","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:37.689Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:44.024Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}