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10712.txt | White Jacket; Or, The World on a Man-of-War | it was not a very white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as the sequel will show.
the way i came by it was this.
when our frigate lay in callao, on the coast of peru--her last harbour in the pacific--i found myself without a grego, or sailor's surtout; and as, toward the end of a three years' cruise, no pea... |
11231.txt | Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-Street | i am a rather elderly man. the nature of my avocations for the last thirty years has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an interesting and somewhat singular set of men, of whom as yet nothing that i know of has ever been written:--i mean the law-copyists or scriveners. i have known very man... |
13720.txt | Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 1 (of 2) | we are off! the courses and topsails are set: the coral-hung anchor swings from the bow: and together, the three royals are given to the breeze, that follows us out to sea like the baying of a hound. out spreads the canvas--alow, aloft-boom-stretched, on both sides, with many a stun' sail; till like a hawk, with pinion... |
13721.txt | Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 2 (of 2) | we were now voyaging straight for maramma; where lived and reigned, in mystery, the high pontiff of the adjoining isles: prince, priest, and god, in his own proper person: great lord paramount over many kings in mardi; his hands full of scepters and crosiers.
soon, rounding a lofty and insulated shore, the great centra... |
15.txt | Moby-Dick; or, The Whale | call me ishmael. some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, i thought i would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. it is a way i have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. whenever i find... |
15422.txt | Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile | the traveller who at the present day is content to travel in the good old asiatic style, neither rushed along by a locomotive, nor dragged by a stage-coach; who is willing to enjoy hospitalities at far-scattered farmhouses, instead of paying his bill at an inn; who is not to be frightened by any amount of loneliness, o... |
21816.txt | The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade | at sunrise on a first of april, there appeared, suddenly as manco capac at the lake titicaca, a man in cream-colors, at the water-side in the city of st. louis.
his cheek was fair, his chin downy, his hair flaxen, his hat a white fur one, with a long fleecy nap. he had neither trunk, valise, carpet-bag, nor parcel. no ... |
2694.txt | I and My Chimney | i and my chimney, two grey-headed old smokers, reside in the country. we are, i may say, old settlers here; particularly my old chimney, which settles more and more every day.
though i always say, i and my chimney, as cardinal wolsey used to say, "i and my king," yet this egotistic way of speaking, wherein i take prece... |
28656.txt | Typee | six months at sea! yes, reader, as i live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm whale beneath the scorching sun of the line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling pacific--the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else! weeks and weeks ago our fresh provisions were all exhausted. there is ... |
4045.txt | Omoo: Adventures in the South Seas | it was the middle of a bright tropical afternoon that we made good our escape from the bay. the vessel we sought lay with her main-topsail aback about a league from the land, and was the only object that broke the broad expanse of the ocean.
on approaching, she turned out to be a small, slatternly-looking craft, her hu... |
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