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The
opposite
wall
of
this
entry
was
hung
all
over
with
a
heathenish
array
of
monstrous
clubs
and
spears
.
Some
were
thickly
set
with
glittering
teeth
resembling
ivory
saws
;
others
were
tufted
with
knots
of
human
hair
;
and
one
was
sickle-shaped
,
with
a
vast
handle
sweeping
round
like
the
segment
made
in
the
new-mown
grass
by
a
long-armed
mower
.
You
shuddered
as
you
gazed
,
and
wondered
what
monstrous
cannibal
and
savage
could
ever
have
gone
a
death-harvesting
with
such
a
hacking
,
horrifying
implement
.
Mixed
with
these
were
rusty
old
whaling
lances
and
harpoons
all
broken
and
deformed
.
Some
were
storied
weapons
.
With
this
once
long
lance
,
now
wildly
elbowed
,
fifty
years
ago
did
Nathan
Swain
kill
fifteen
whales
between
a
sunrise
and
a
sunset
.
And
that
harpoon
--
so
like
a
corkscrew
now
--
was
flung
in
Javan
seas
,
and
run
away
with
by
a
whale
,
years
afterwards
slain
off
the
Cape
of
Blanco
.
The
original
iron
entered
nigh
the
tail
,
and
,
like
a
restless
needle
sojourning
in
the
body
of
a
man
,
travelled
full
forty
feet
,
and
at
last
was
found
imbedded
in
the
hump
.
Crossing
this
dusky
entry
,
and
on
through
yon
low-arched
way
--
cut
through
what
in
old
times
must
have
been
a
great
central
chimney
with
fireplaces
all
round
--
you
enter
the
public
room
.
A
still
duskier
place
is
this
,
with
such
low
ponderous
beams
above
,
and
such
old
wrinkled
planks
beneath
,
that
you
would
almost
fancy
you
trod
some
old
craft
's
cockpits
,
especially
of
such
a
howling
night
,
when
this
corner-anchored
old
ark
rocked
so
furiously
.
On
one
side
stood
a
long
,
low
,
shelf-like
table
covered
with
cracked
glass
cases
,
filled
with
dusty
rarities
gathered
from
this
wide
world
's
remotest
nooks
.
Projecting
from
the
further
angle
of
the
room
stands
a
dark-looking
den
--
the
bar
--
a
rude
attempt
at
a
right
whale
's
head
.
Be
that
how
it
may
,
there
stands
the
vast
arched
bone
of
the
whale
's
jaw
,
so
wide
,
a
coach
might
almost
drive
beneath
it
.
Within
are
shabby
shelves
,
ranged
round
with
old
decanters
,
bottles
,
flasks
;
and
in
those
jaws
of
swift
destruction
,
like
another
cursed
Jonah
(
by
which
name
indeed
they
called
him
)
,
bustles
a
little
withered
old
man
,
who
,
for
their
money
,
dearly
sells
the
sailors
deliriums
and
death
.
Abominable
are
the
tumblers
into
which
he
pours
his
poison
.
Though
true
cylinders
without
--
within
,
the
villanous
green
goggling
glasses
deceitfully
tapered
downwards
to
a
cheating
bottom
.
Parallel
meridians
rudely
pecked
into
the
glass
,
surround
these
footpads
'
goblets
.
Fill
to
this
mark
,
and
your
charge
is
but
a
penny
;
to
this
a
penny
more
;
and
so
on
to
the
full
glass
--
the
Cape
Horn
measure
,
which
you
may
gulp
down
for
a
shilling
.
Upon
entering
the
place
I
found
a
number
of
young
seamen
gathered
about
a
table
,
examining
by
a
dim
light
divers
specimens
of
skrimshander
.
I
sought
the
landlord
,
and
telling
him
I
desired
to
be
accommodated
with
a
room
,
received
for
answer
that
his
house
was
full
--
not
a
bed
unoccupied
.
"
But
avast
,
"
he
added
,
tapping
his
forehead
,
"
you
haint
no
objections
to
sharing
a
harpooneer
's
blanket
,
have
ye
?
I
s
'
pose
you
are
goin
'
a-whalin
'
,
so
you
'd
better
get
used
to
that
sort
of
thing
.
"
I
told
him
that
I
never
liked
to
sleep
two
in
a
bed
;
that
if
I
should
ever
do
so
,
it
would
depend
upon
who
the
harpooneer
might
be
,
and
that
if
he
(
the
landlord
)
really
had
no
other
place
for
me
,
and
the
harpooneer
was
not
decidedly
objectionable
,
why
rather
than
wander
further
about
a
strange
town
on
so
bitter
a
night
,
I
would
put
up
with
the
half
of
any
decent
man
's
blanket
.
"
I
thought
so
.
All
right
;
take
a
seat
.
Supper
?
--
you
want
supper
?
Supper
'll
be
ready
directly
.
"
I
sat
down
on
an
old
wooden
settle
,
carved
all
over
like
a
bench
on
the
Battery
.
At
one
end
a
ruminating
tar
was
still
further
adorning
it
with
his
jack-knife
,
stooping
over
and
diligently
working
away
at
the
space
between
his
legs
.
He
was
trying
his
hand
at
a
ship
under
full
sail
,
but
he
did
n't
make
much
headway
,
I
thought
.
At
last
some
four
or
five
of
us
were
summoned
to
our
meal
in
an
adjoining
room
.
It
was
cold
as
Iceland
--
no
fire
at
all
--
the
landlord
said
he
could
n't
afford
it
.
Nothing
but
two
dismal
tallow
candles
,
each
in
a
winding
sheet
.
We
were
fain
to
button
up
our
monkey
jackets
,
and
hold
to
our
lips
cups
of
scalding
tea
with
our
half
frozen
fingers
.
But
the
fare
was
of
the
most
substantial
kind
--
not
only
meat
and
potatoes
,
but
dumplings
;
good
heavens
!
dumplings
for
supper
!
One
young
fellow
in
a
green
box
coat
,
addressed
himself
to
these
dumplings
in
a
most
direful
manner
.
"
My
boy
,
"
said
the
landlord
,
"
you
'll
have
the
nightmare
to
a
dead
sartainty
.
"
