Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

CHAPTER 2. The Carpet-Bag (carpet-bag politician: a Northern adventurer in the South after the war).

I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag (carpet-bag politician: a Northern adventurer in the South after the war), tucked (to fold warmly in) it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn (the stormy southern tip of South America) and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto (an old name for Manhattan in New York), I duly (as is proper) arrived in New Bedford (the Massachusetts port that was the centre of American whaling). It was a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed (to fail one's hopes) upon learning that the little packet (a small package) for Nantucket (the small Massachusetts island that was the heart of American whaling) had already sailed (to travel by ship), and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.

As most young candidates for the pains and penalties (a punishment) of whaling (the great sea animal) stop at this same New Bedford, thence (from there) to embark (to go aboard) on their voyage (a journey), it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail (to travel by ship) in no other than a Nantucket craft (a skilled trade; cunning), because there was a fine, boisterous (loud and wild with fun) something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly (astonishingly) pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually (little by little) monopolising (to keep all for oneself) the business of whaling (the great sea animal), and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original—the Tyre (an old trading city of the near east) of this Carthage;—the place where the first dead American whale (the great sea animal) was stranded (a thread; a shore). Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal (of the first people of a land) whalemen (a man who hunts whales), the Red-Men, first sally (a sudden dash out; a witty stroke) out in canoes (a light narrow boat moved by paddles) to give chase (to run after) to the Leviathan (the great sea beast of the Bible, taken to mean the whale)? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous (full of adventure) little sloop (a small ship with one mast) put forth (forward; out), partly (in part) laden (loaded) with imported (meaning; to bring in) cobblestones (rounded paving stones)—so goes the story—to throw at the whales (the great sea animal), in order to discover (to find out) when they were nigh (near — old form) enough to risk a harpoon (a spear on a rope, thrown to catch a whale) from the bowsprit (the spar sticking out from a ship's bow)?

Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere (before — an old word) I could embark (to go aboard) for my destined (fixed by fate) port, it became a matter of concernment (a matter that touches one closely) where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile (in the time between). It was a very dubious-looking (looking not to be trusted), nay (no — old form), a very dark and dismal (gloomy and cheerless) night, bitingly (in a sharp cutting way) cold and cheerless (gloomy; without cheer). I knew no one in the place. With anxious (full of worry) grapnels (a small anchor with several hooks) I had sounded my pocket (the sewn-in pouch), and only brought up a few pieces of silver,—So, wherever (in whatever place) you go, Ishmael (the narrator of this book), said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary (gloomy and dull) street shouldering my bag, and comparing (to set beside for likeness) the gloom (heavy darkness of spirit) towards the north with the darkness (absence of light) towards the south—wherever (in whatever place) in your wisdom (sound judgement got from long knowing) you may conclude (to end; to decide) to lodge (to take lodging; the Masons' meeting body) for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire (to ask) the price, and don’t be too particular.

With halting (stopping; limping) steps I paced (a step's length; speed) the streets, and passed the sign of “The Crossed Harpoons”—but it looked too expensive and jolly (merry) there. Further on, from the bright red windows of the “Sword-Fish Inn,” there came such fervent (burning with feeling) rays, that it seemed to have melted (to turn soft with heat) the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere else the congealed (to set solid; clot) frost (frozen dew; icy cold) lay ten inches (a small measure of length) thick (of great depth through; dense) in a hard, asphaltic (like black tar) pavement (a paved walk),—rather weary (tired out) for me, when I struck my foot against the flinty (hard as flint) projections (a part sticking out), because from hard, remorseless (without pity) service the soles (a soldier) of my boots (a high shoe) were in a most miserable (deeply unhappy) plight (a sorry state). Too expensive and jolly (merry), again thought I, pausing (a brief stop) one moment to watch the broad glare (a hard bright light; an angry stare) in the street, and hear the sounds of the tinkling (to ring lightly) glasses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at last; don’t you hear? get away from before the door; your patched (mended with a piece set on) boots (a high shoe) are stopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct (inborn knowledge) followed the streets that took me waterward (toward the water), for there, doubtless (without doubt; surely), were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest (bright and cheerful) inns (a house where travellers may eat and sleep).

Such dreary (gloomy and dull) streets! blocks of blackness (the state of being black), not houses, on either hand, and here and there a candle (a wax light), like a candle (a wax light) moving about in a tomb (a burial chamber). At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter of the town proved all but deserted (abandoned; empty). But presently (soon; now) I came to a smoky (full of smoke) light proceeding (to go on) from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly (temptingly) open. It had a careless (without care) look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering, the first thing I did was to stumble (to trip in walking) over an ash-box (a box for ashes) in the porch (a covered entrance). Ha! thought I, ha, as the flying particles (a tiny piece) almost choked (to stop the breath) me, are these ashes (what fire leaves behind) from that destroyed city, Gomorrah? But “The Crossed Harpoons,” and “The Sword-Fish?”—this, then must needs be the sign of “The Trap.” However, I picked myself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second, interior door.

It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting in Tophet (a place of burning outside Jerusalem, taken to mean hell). A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer (to look closely; an equal); and beyond, a black Angel of Doom was beating a book in a pulpit (the raised stand for preaching). It was a negro (a dated word for a black person) church; and the preacher (one who preaches)’s text was about the blackness (the state of being black) of darkness (absence of light), and the weeping (shedding tears) and wailing (to cry long and loud) and teeth-gnashing (grinding the teeth in rage) there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered (to speak low in the throat) I, backing out, Wretched entertainment at the sign of ‘The Trap!’

Moving on, I at last came to a dim (faint; not bright) sort of light not far from the docks (a landing place for boats), and heard a forlorn (hopeless and sad) creaking (making a dry rubbing sound) in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging (moving to and fro) sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly (weakly and only just) representing a tall straight jet (a leaping stream of light or water; the deep black stone) of misty (veiled in mist) spray (flying drops), and these words underneath (below)—“The Spouter Inn:—Peter Coffin (the landlord of the Spouter Inn at New Bedford).”

Coffin (the box a dead body is laid in; also a common family name on Nantucket)?—Spouter?—Rather ominous (threatening evil to come) in that particular connexion (connection), thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant (one who leaves his country) from there. As the light looked so dim (faint; not bright), and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated (falling into ruin) little wooden (made of wood) house itself looked as if it might have been carted (a two-wheeled load carrier) here from the ruins (destruction; broken remains) of some burnt district, and as the swinging (moving to and fro) sign had a poverty-stricken (very poor) sort of creak (to make a dry rubbing sound) to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings (a place to stay), and the best of pea (the small round green vegetable) coffee.

It was a queer (strange) sort of place—a gable-ended (with a pointed end wall) old house, one side palsied (a shaking sickness) as it were, and leaning (to tilt; rest against) over sadly (with sadness). It stood on a sharp (keen-edged) bleak (bare and cold) corner, where that tempestuous (stormy) wind Euroclydon (a fierce northeast wind named in the Bible) kept up a worse howling (the long crying sound of wind or beasts) than ever it did about poor Paul’s tossed (to throw lightly) craft (a skilled trade; cunning). Euroclydon, nevertheless (even so), is a mighty (very strong) pleasant (pleasing) zephyr (a soft gentle wind) to any one in-doors (inside a building), with his feet on the hob (the shelf at the side of a fireplace for keeping pots warm) quietly (without noise) toasting (a drink to one's health; browned bread) for bed. “In judging (forming an opinion about) of that tempestuous (stormy) wind called Euroclydon,” says an old writer—of whose works I possess (to own; to hold) the only copy extant (existing)—“it maketh (makes) a marvellous (wonderful) difference, whether thou (you — old form) lookest (look, in old speech used with "thou") out at it from a glass window where the frost (frozen dew; icy cold) is all on the outside, or whether thou (you — old form) observest (observest: watch, in old speech used with "thou") it from that sashless (having no frame in the window) window, where the frost (frozen dew; icy cold) is on both sides, and of which the wight (a poor creature — old word) Death is the only glazier (a man who fits glass into windows).” True enough, thought I, as this passage (passage: a sea-journey — the old sense here) occurred to my mind—old black-letter (black-letter: old heavy Gothic type), thou (you — old form) reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity (sorrow for another's pain) they didn (did not)’t stop up the chinks (a narrow crack; the ring of coins) and the crannies (crannies: small cracks) though, and thrust (to push hard) in a little lint (soft scraped cloth for wounds) here and there. But it’s too late to make any improvements (a bettering) now. The universe is finished; the copestone (the finishing stone) is on, and the chips (a small cut piece) were carted (a two-wheeled load carrier) off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus (in the Bible, the beggar full of sores who lay at a rich man's gate) there, chattering (quick idle talk) his teeth against the curbstone (the stone edge of a path) for his pillow (a head cushion), and shaking (to tremble; move quickly) off his tatters (a torn rag) with his shiverings (trembling with cold), he might plug (plugs: wads of tobacco) up both ears (the organ of hearing) with rags (a torn scrap of cloth), and put a corn-cob (the hard middle part of an ear of maize) into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous (stormy) Euroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken (made of silk) wrapper (a cloth wrapped round something)—(he had a redder one afterwards (later)) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty (cold with frost) night; how Orion (the Hunter, a bright group of stars) glitters (to sparkle); what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental (of the east) summer climes (lands; regions) of everlasting (lasting forever) conservatories (a glass room for plants); give me the privilege (a special right) of making my own summer with my own coals (the black burning rock).

But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra (a large island of southeast Asia) than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise (along the long way) along the line of the equator (the line drawn round the middle of the earth); yea (yes — old form), ye gods! go down to the fiery (like fire; blazing) pit (a dug hole) itself, in order to keep out this frost (frozen dew; icy cold)?

Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded (a thread; a shore) there on the curbstone (the stone edge of a path) before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an iceberg (a floating mountain of ice) should be moored (open wild land; to tie up a ship) to one of the Moluccas (the spice islands of southeast Asia). Yet Dives himself, he too lives like a Czar (the emperor of Russia) in an ice palace (the house of a king) made of frozen (turned to ice) sighs (a long sad breath), and being a president of a temperance (the going without strong drink) society, he only drinks the tepid (lukewarm) tears (a drop of weeping; to rip) of orphans (a child without parents).

But no more of this blubbering (crying with a loud wet noise) now, we are going a-whaling (out hunting whales), and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us scrape (to drag with a harsh sound) the ice from our frosted (covered with frost) feet, and see what sort of a place this “Spouter” may be.