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Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul;
I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol
with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round
see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing
