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Melville, Herman, 1819-1891

"Moby Dick: or, the White Whale"

These fritters feed the flames.
Like a plethoric burning martyr, or a self-consuming misanthrope,
once ignited, the whale supplies his own fuel and burns by his own body.
Would that he consumed his own smoke! for his smoke is horrible
to inhale, and inhale it you must, and not only that, but you must
live in it for the time. It has an unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor
about it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of funereal pyres.
It smells like the left wing of the day of judgment; it is an argument
for the pit.
By midnight the works were in full operation.
We were clear from the carcass; sail had been made;
the wind was freshening; the wild ocean darkness was intense.
But that darkness was licked up by the fierce flames, which at
intervals forked forth from the sooty flues, and illuminated
every lofty rope in the rigging, as with the famed Greek fire.
The burning ship drove on, as if remorselessly commissioned
to some vengeful deed. So the pitch and sulphur-freighted brigs
of the bold Hydriote, Canaris, issuing from their midnight harbors,
with broad sheets of flame for sails, bore down upon
the Turkish frigates, and folded them in conflagrations.
The hatch, removed from the top of the works, now afforded a wide
hearth in front of them.


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