Ishmael |
Call me ishmael. I go to sea as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the forecastle, aloft there to the royal masthead. I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas and land on barbarous coasts.
For these reasons the whaling voyage was welcome; the great floodgates of the wonder-world swung open. There floated in my inmost soul endless processions of the whale, and one grand hooded phantom-like a snow hill in the sky. |