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REDBURN. HIS FIRST VOYAGE

by

HERMAN MELVILLE

Contents

I. HOW WELLINGBOROUGH REDBURN'S TASTE FOR THE SEA WAS BORN AND
BRED IN HIM II. REDBURN'S DEPARTURE FROM HOME
III. HE ARRIVES IN TOWN
IV. HOW HE DISPOSED OF HIS FOWLING-PIECE
V. HE PURCHASES HIS SEA-WARDROBE, AND ON A DISMAL RAINY DAY PICKS
UP HIS BOARD AND LODGING ALONG THE WHARVES VI. HE IS INITIATED IN THE BUSINESS OF CLEANING OUT THE PIG-PEN,
AND SLUSHING DOWN THE TOP-MAST VII. HE GETS TO SEA AND FEELS VERY BAD
VIII. HE IS PUT INTO THE LARBOARD WATCH; GETS SEA-SICK; AND RELATES
SOME OTHER OF HIS EXPERIENCES IX. THE SAILORS BECOMING A LITTLE SOCIAL, REDBURN CONVERSES WITH
THEM X. HE IS VERY MUCH FRIGHTENED; THE SAILORS ABUSE HIM; AND HE
BECOMES MISERABLE AND FORLORN XI. HE HELPS WASH THE DECKS, AND THEN GOES TO BREAKFAST
XII. HE GIVES SOME ACCOUNT OF ONE OF HIS SHIPMATES CALLED JACKSON
XIII. HE HAS A FINE DAY AT SEA, BEGINS TO LIKE IT; BUT CHANGES HIS
MIND XIV. HE CONTEMPLATES MAKING A SOCIAL CALL ON THE CAPTAIN IN HIS CABIN
XV. THE MELANCHOLY STATE OF HIS WARDROBE
XVI. AT DEAD OF NIGHT HE IS SENT UP TO LOOSE THE MAIN-SKYSAIL
XVII. THE COOK AND STEWARD
XVIII. HE ENDEAVORS TO IMPROVE HIS MIND; AND TELLS OF ONE BLUNT AND HIS
DREAM BOOK XIX. A NARROW ESCAPE
XX. IN A FOG HE IS SET TO WORK AS A BELL-TOLLER, AND BEHOLDS A HERD
OF OCEAN-ELEPHANTS XXI. A WHALEMAN AND A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN
XXII. THE HIGHLANDER PASSES A WRECK
XXIII. AN UNACCOUNTABLE CABIN-PASSENGER, AND A MYSTERIOUS YOUNG LADY
XXIV. HE BEGINS TO HOP ABOUT IN THE RIGGING LIKE A SAINT JAGO's MONKEY
XXV. QUARTER-DECK FURNITURE
XXVI. A SAILOR A JACK OF ALL TRADES
XXVII. HE GETS A PEEP AT IRELAND, AND AT LAST ARRIVES AT LIVERPOOL
XXVIII. HE GOES TO SUPPER AT THE SIGN OF THE BALTIMORE CLIPPER
XXIX. REDBURN DEFERENTIALLY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE PROSPECTS OF
SAILORS XXX. REDBURN GROWS INTOLERABLY FLAT AND STUPID OVER SOME OUTLANDISH
OLD GUIDE-BOOKS XXXI. WITH HIS PROSY OLD GUIDE-BOOK, HE TAKES A PROSY STROLL THROUGH
THE TOWN XXXII. THE DOCKS
XXXIII. THE SALT-DROGHERS, AND GERMAN EMIGRANT SHIPS
XXXIV. THE IRRAWADDY
XXXV. GALLIOTS, COAST-OF-GUINEA-MAN, AND FLOATING CHAPEL
XXXVI. THE OLD CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS, AND THE DEAD-HOUSE
XXXVII. WHAT REDBURN SAW IN LAUNCELOTT'S-HEY
XXXVIII. THE DOCK-WALL BEGGARS
XXXIX. THE BOOBLE-ALLEYS OF THE TOWN
XL. PLACARDS, BRASS-JEWELERS, TRUCK-HORSES, AND STEAMERS XLI. REDBURN ROVES ABOUT HITHER AND THITHER XLII. HIS ADVENTURE WITH THE CROSS OLD GENTLEMAN XLIII. HE TAKES A DELIGHTFUL RAMBLE INTO THE COUNTRY; AND MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF THREE ADORABLE CHARMERS XLIV. REDBURN INTRODUCES MASTER HARRY BOLTON TO THE FAVORABLE CONSIDERATION OF THE READER XLV. HARRY BOLTON KIDNAPS REDBURN, AND CARRIES HIM OFF TO LONDON XLVI. A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT IN LONDON XLVII. HOMEWARD BOUND XLVIII. A LIVING CORPSE XLIX. CARLO L. HARRY BOLTON AT SEA LI. THE EMIGRANTS LII. THE EMIGRANTS' KITCHEN LIII. THE HORATII AND CURIATII LIV. SOME SUPERIOR OLD NAIL-ROD AND PIG-TAIL LVI. UNDER THE LEE OF THE LONG-BOAT, REDBURN AND HARRY HOLD CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNION LVII. ALMOST A FAMINE LVIII. THOUGH THE HIGHLANDER PUTS INTO NO HARBOR AS YET; SHE HERE AND THERE LEAVES MANY OF HER PASSENGERS BEHIND LIX. THE LAST END OF JACKSON LX. HOME AT LAST LXI. REDBURN AND HABBY, ARM IN ARM, IN HARBOR LXII. THE LAST THAT WAS EVER HEARD OF HARRY BOLTON

Being the Sailor Boy Confessions and Reminiscences Of the Son-Of-A-Gentleman In the Merchant Navy

I. HOW WELLINGBOROUGH REDBURN'S TASTE FOR THE SEA WAS BORN AND BRED IN
HIM

"Wellingborough, as you are going to sea, suppose you take this shooting-jacket of mine along; it's just the thing--take it, it will save the expense of another. You see, it's quite warm; fine long skirts, stout horn buttons, and plenty of pockets."

Out of the goodness and simplicity of his heart, thus spoke my elder brother to me, upon the eve of my departure for the seaport.

"And, Wellingborough," he added, "since we are both short of money, and you want an outfit, and I Have none to give, you may as well take my fowling-piece along, and sell it in New York for what you can get.--Nay, take it; it's of no use to me now; I can't find it in powder any more."

I was then but a boy. Some time previous my mother had removed from New York to a pleasant village on the Hudson River, where we lived in a small house, in a quiet way. Sad disappointments in several plans which I had sketched for my future life; the necessity of doing something for myself, united to a naturally roving disposition, had now conspired within me, to send me to sea as a sailor.

For months previous I had been poring over old New York papers, delightedly perusing the long columns of ship advertisements, all of which possessed a strange, romantic charm to me. Over and over again I devoured such announcements as the following:

"FOR BREMEN.

"The coppered and copper-fastened brig Leda, having nearly completed her cargo, will sail for the above port on Tuesday the twentieth of May. For freight or passage apply on board at Coenties Slip."

To my young inland imagination every word in an advertisement like this, suggested volumes of thought.

A brig! The very word summoned up the idea of a black, sea-worn craft, with high, cozy bulwarks, and rakish masts and yards.

Coppered and copper-fastened! That fairly smelt of the salt water! How different such vessels must be from the wooden, one-masted, green-and- white-painted sloops, that glided up and down the river before our house on the bank.

Nearly completed her cargo! How momentous the announcement; suggesting ideas, too, of musty bales, and cases of silks and satins, and filling me with contempt for the vile deck-loads of hay and lumber, with which my river experience was familiar.

"Will sail on Tuesday the 20th of May"--and the newspaper bore date the fifth of the month! Fifteen whole days beforehand; think of that; what an important voyage it must be, that the time of sailing was fixed upon so long beforehand; the river sloops were not used to make such prospective announcements.

"For freight or passage apply on board!"

Think of going on board a coppered and copper-fastened brig, and taking passage for Bremen! And who could be going to Bremen? No one but foreigners, doubtless; men of dark complexions and jet-black whiskers, who talked French.

"Coenties Slip."

Plenty more brigs and any quantity of ships must be lying there. Coenties Slip must be somewhere near ranges of grim-looking warehouses, with rusty iron doors and shutters, and tiled roofs; and old anchors and chain-cable piled on the walk. Old-fashioned coffeehouses, also, much abound in that neighborhood, with sunburnt sea-captains going in and out, smoking cigars, and talking about Havanna, London, and Calcutta.

All these my imaginations were wonderfully assisted by certain shadowy reminiscences of wharves, and warehouses, and shipping, with which a residence in a seaport during early childhood had supplied me.

Particularly, I remembered standing with my father on the wharf when a large ship was getting under way, and rounding the head of the pier. I remembered the yo heave ho! of the sailors, as they just showed their woolen caps above the high bulwarks. I remembered how I thought of their crossing the great ocean; and that that very ship, and those very

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