But it was startling to see this excellent hearted
Quakeress coming on board, as she did the last day,
with a long oil-ladle in one hand, and a still longer
whaling lance in the other. Nor was Bildad himself
nor Captain Peleg at all backward. As for Bildad,
he carried about with him a long list of the articles
needed, and at every fresh arrival, down went his
mark opposite that article upon the paper. Every
once in a while Peleg came hobbling out of his whalebone
den, roaring at the men down the hatchways, roaring
up to the riggers at the mast-head, and then concluded
by roaring back into his wigwam.
During these days of preparation, Queequeg and I often
visited the craft, and as often I asked about Captain
Ahab, and how he was, and when he was going to come
on board his ship. To these questions they would
answer, that he was getting better and better, and
was expected aboard every day; meantime, the two Captains,
Peleg and Bildad, could attend to everything necessary
to fit the vessel for the voyage. If I had been
downright honest with myself, I would have seen very
plainly in my heart that I did but half fancy being
committed this way to so long a voyage, without once
laying my eyes on the man who was to be the absolute
dictator of it, so soon as the ship sailed out upon
the open sea. But when a man suspects any wrong,
it sometimes happens that if he be already involved
in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his
suspicions even from himself. And much this way
it was with me. I said nothing, and tried to
think nothing.
At last it was given out that some time next day the
ship would certainly sail. So next morning,
Queequeg and I took a very early start.
CHAPTER 21
Going Aboard
It was nearly six o’clock, but only grey imperfect
misty dawn, when we drew nigh the wharf.
“There are some sailors running ahead there,
if I see right,” said I to Queequeg, “it
can’t be shadows; she’s off by sunrise,
I guess; come on!”
“Avast!” cried a voice, whose owner at
the same time coming close behind us, laid a hand
upon both our shoulders, and then insinuating himself
between us, stood stooping forward a little, in the
uncertain twilight, strangely peering from Queequeg
to me. It was Elijah.
“Going aboard?”
“Hands off, will you,” said I.
“Lookee here,” said Queequeg, shaking
himself, “go ’way!”
“Aint going aboard, then?”
“Yes, we are,” said I, “but what
business is that of yours? Do you know, Mr. Elijah,
that I consider you a little impertinent?”
“No, no, no; I wasn’t aware of that,”
said Elijah, slowly and wonderingly looking from me
to Queequeg, with the most unaccountable glances.
“Elijah,” said I, “you will oblige
my friend and me by withdrawing. We are going
to the Indian and Pacific Oceans, and would prefer
not to be detained.”
