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I now took the measure of the bench, and found that it was a foot too short; but that could be mended with a chair.

So gathering up the shavings with another grin, and throwing them into the great stove in the middle of the room, he went about his business, and left me in a brown study.

The landlord was near spraining his wrist, and I told him for heaven's sake to quit -- the bed was soft enough to suit me, and I did not know how all the planing in the world could make eider down of a pine plank.

The shavings flew right and left; till at last the plane-iron came bump against an indestructible knot.

So saying he procured the plane; and with his old silk handkerchief first dusting the bench, vigorously set to planing away at my bed, the while grinning like an ape.

"But wait a bit, Skrimshander; I've got a carpenter's plane there in the bar -- wait, I say, and I'll make ye snug enough."

"Just as you please; I'm sorry I can't spare ye a tablecloth for a mattress, and it's a plaguy rough board here" -- feeling of the knots and notches.

"Landlord! I've changed my mind about that harpooner. -- I shan't sleep with him. I'll try the bench here."

Suppose now, he should tumble in upon me at midnight -- how could I tell from what vile hole he had been coming?

Besides, it was getting late, and my decent harpooner ought to be home and going bedwards.

I began to twitch all over.

It was fair to presume that being a harpooner, his linen or woollen, as the case might be, would not be of the tidiest, certainly none of the finest.

The more I pondered over this harpooner, the more I abominated the thought of sleeping with him.

To be sure they all sleep together in one apartment, but you have your own hammock, and cover yourself with your own blanket, and sleep in your own skin.

Nor was there any earthly reason why I as a sailor should sleep two in a bed, more than anybody else; for sailors no more sleep two in a bed, than bachelor Kings do ashore.

And when it comes to sleeping with an unknown stranger, in a strange inn, in a strange town, and that stranger a harpooner, then your objections indefinitely multiply.

I'll have to do that eventually.

I don't know how it is, but people like to be private when they are sleeping.

Have not heard of the first one; I love MA's debut Alters of Madness, it's one of my Top 10 favorite albums overall, but everything after that is... kinda eh to me; I love Hammer Smashed Face and Entrails Ripped, but as a whole CC is a bit overrated in my book.

In fact, you would a good deal rather not sleep with your own brother.