Typee

The sea-Longings for shore-A land-sick ship-Destination of the voyagers. Six months at sea Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm whale beneath the scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific-the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else Weeks and weeks ago our fresh provisions were all exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a single yam. Those glorious bunches of bananas which once decorated our stern and quarter-deck, have, alas, disappeared and the delicious oranges which hung suspended from our tops and stays-they, too, are gone Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left us but salt-horse and sea-biscuit.