Closing the door upon the landlady, I endeavored to prevail upon Queequeg to take a chair; but in vain.  There he sat; and all he could do—­for all my polite arts and blandishments—­ he would not move a peg, nor say a single word, nor even look at me, nor notice my presence in any the slightest way.

I wonder, thought I, if this can possibly be a part of his Ramadan; do they fast on their hams that way in his native island.  It must be so; yes, it’s a part of his creed, I suppose; well, then, let him rest; he’ll get up sooner or later, no doubt.  It can’t last for ever, thank God, and his Ramadan only comes once a year; and I don’t believe it’s very punctual then.

I went down to supper.  After sitting a long time listening to the long stories of some sailors who had just come from a plum-pudding voyage, as they called it (that is, a short whaling-voyage in a schooner or brig, confined to the north of the line, in the Atlantic Ocean only); after listening to these plum-puddingers till nearly eleven o’clock, I went up stairs to go to bed, feeling quite sure by this time Queequeg must certainly have brought his Ramadan to a termination.  But no; there he was just where I had left him; he had not stirred an inch.  I began to grow vexed with him; it seemed so downright senseless and insane to be sitting there all day and half the night on his hams in a cold room, holding a piece of wood on his head.

“For heaven’s sake, Queequeg, get up and shake yourself; get up and have some supper.  You’ll starve; you’ll kill yourself, Queequeg.”  But not a word did he reply.

Despairing of him, therefore, I determined to go to bed and to sleep; and no doubt, before a great while, he would follow me.  But previous to turning in, I took my heavy bearskin jacket, and threw it over him, as it promised to be a very cold night; and he had nothing but his ordinary round jacket on.  For some time, do all I would, I could not get into the faintest doze.  I had blown out the candle; and the mere thought of Queequeg—­ not four feet off—­sitting there in that uneasy position, stark alone in the cold and dark; this made me really wretched.  Think of it; sleeping all night in the same room with a wide awake pagan on his hams in this dreary, unaccountable Ramadan!

But somehow I dropped off at last, and knew nothing more till break of day; when, looking over the bedside, there squatted Queequeg, as if he had been screwed down to the floor.  But as soon as the first glimpse of sun entered the window, up he got, with stiff and grating joints, but with a cheerful look; limped towards me where I lay; pressed his forehead again against mine; and said his Ramadan was over.

Now, as I before hinted, I have no objection to any person’s religion, be it what it may, so long as that person does not kill or insult any other person, because that other person don’t believe it also.  But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him.