it was quite late in the evening when the little moss came snugly to anchor, and
 queequeg and i went ashore so we could attend to no business that day, at least
 none but a supper and a bed. the landlord of the spouterinn had recommended us 
to his cousin hosea hussey of the try pots, whom he asserted to be the proprieto
r of one of the best kept hotels in all nantucket, and moreover he had assured u
s that cousin hosea, as he called him, was famous for his chowders. in short, he
 plainly hinted that we could not possibly do better than try potluck at the try
 pots. but the directions hc had given us about keeping a yellow warehouse on ou
r starboard hand till we opened a white church to the larboard, and then keeping
 that on the larboard hand till we made a corner three points to the starboard, 
and that done, then ask the first man we met where the place was these crooked d
irections of his very much puzzled us at first, especially as, at the outset, qu
eequeg insisted that the yellow warehouse our first point of departure must be l
eft on the larboard hand, whereas i had understood peter coffin to say it was on
 the starboard. however, by dint of beating about a little in the dark, and now 
and then knocking up a peaceful inhabitant to inquire the way, we at last came t
o something which there was no mistaking. in the town where i was born lived a m
an who sailed to sea and he told us of his life in the land of submarines so we 
sailed up to the sun till we found the sea of green and we lived beneath the wav
es in our green submarine we all live in a green submarine green submarine, gree
n submarine we all live in a green submarine green submarine, green submarine an
d our friends are all on board many more of them live next door and the band beg
ins to play we all live in a green submarine green submarine, green submarine we
 all live in a green submarine green submarine, green submarine  as we live a li
fe of ease everyone of us has all we need sky of blue and sea of green in our gr
een submarine we all live in a green submarine green submarine, green submarine 
we all live in a green submarine green submarine, green submarine we all live in
 a green submarine green submarine, green submarine we all live in a green subma
rine green submarine, green submarine. two enormous wooden pots painted black, a
nd suspended by asses ears, swung from the crosstrees of an old topmast, planted
 in front of an old doorway. the horns of the crosstrees were sawed off on the o
ther side, so that this old topmast looked not a little like a gallows. perhaps 
i was over sensitive to such impressions at the time, but i could not help stari
ng at this gallows with a vague misgiving. a sort of crick was in my neck as i g
azed up to the two remaining horns yes, two of them, one for queequeg, and one f
or me. its ominous, thinks i. a coffin my innkeeper upon landing in my first wha
ling port tombstones staring at me in the whalemens chapel, and here a gallows a
nd a pair of prodigious black pots too are these last throwing out oblique hints
 touching topheti was called from these reflections by the sight of a freckled w
oman with yellow hair and a yellow gown, standing in the porch of