the lower jaw of the mate was stove in his head; he fell on the hatch spouting blood like a whale. "Ere the cry could go aft Steelkilt was shaking one of the backstays leading far aloft to where two of his comrades were standing their mastheads. They were both Canallers. "'Canallers!' cried Don Pedro. 'We have seen many whale-ships in our harbours, but never heard of your Canallers. Pardon: who and what are they?' "'Canallers, Don, are the boatmen belonging to our grand Erie Canal. You must have heard of it.' "'Nay, Senor; hereabouts in this dull, warm, most lazy, and hereditary land, we know but little of your vigorous North.'
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