Off we go

.. to where I'm not sure. A day of beautification for some of us, and chores for others. And at the end of the afternoon, satisfying recreation with friends.
I've begun re-reading "Moby Dick," for the third time. It's a recent Penguin edition, with some features I don't recall from the one I read years ago, incluidng a glossary of seafaring terms and diagrams of ships and whale cutting techniques that resemble poseters of meat cuts in butcher's shops. Regardless, it's a pleasure to dive deep into Melville's language. Plumb the depths of the Leviathan.
I'll be heaving to shortly, into my berth, to read more. Turning flukes, I revisit Ishmael's search for shelter after he's too late for the packet to Nantucket, and gets assigned to share Queequeg's bed. Much amusing material follows, revolving around Ishmael's initial perceptions of the harpooner's physical appearance in the middle of the night, culminating in Ishmael's increased astonishment at the aforementioned as revealed in bright morning light. There's a scene where all the mariners staying in the Spouter-Inn assemble for breakfast, and Ishmael is struck by their silence and seeming shyness. He had thought they'd be a rowdy, talkative bunch, spinning sea yarns and telling lies, but they are quiet. Methought they needed generous grog rations to loosen their tongues...