And here, Heaven help me, he was going to carry me off to the Pole! And on such a vile errand too! For there was something degrading in it.

Your true whaleman glories in keeping his harpoon unspotted by blood of aught but Cachalot.

By my halidome, it touched the knighthood of a tar.

Sperm and spermaceti! It was unendurable.
"Captain," said I, touching my sombrero to him as I stood at the wheel one day, "It's very hard to carry me off this way to purgatory.
I shipped to go elsewhere." "Yes, and so did I," was his reply.

"But it can't be helped.