CHAPTER97TheLamp

hadyoudescendedfromthepequod'stryworkstothepequod'sforecastle,wheretheoffdutywatchweresleeping,foronesinglemomentyouwouldhavealmostthoughtyouwerestandinginsomeilluminatedshrineofcanonizedkingsandcounsellors.theretheylayintheirtriangularoakenvaults,eachmarinerachiselledmuteness;ascoreoflampsflashinguponhishoodedeyes.

inmerchantmen,oilforthesailorismorescarcethanthemilkofqueens.todressinthedark,andeatinthedark,andstumbleindarknesstohispallet,thisishisusuallot.butthewhaleman,asheseeksthefoodoflight,sohelivesinlight.hemakeshisberthanaladdin'slamp,andlayshimdowninit;sothatinthepitchiestnighttheship'sblackhullstillhousesanillumination.

seewithwhatentirefreedomthewhalemantakeshishandfuloflamps—oftenbutoldbottlesandvials,though—tothecoppercooleratthetry-works,andreplenishesthemthere,asmugsofaleatavat.heburns,too,thepurestofoil,initsunmanufactured,and,therefore,unvitiatedstate;afluidunknowntosolar,lunar,orastralcontrivancesashore.itissweetasearlygrassbutterinapril.hegoesandhuntsforhisoil,soastobesureofitsfreshnessandgenuineness,evenasthetravellerontheprairiehuntsuphisownsupperofgame.