Moby Dick: or, the White Whale eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 623 pages of information about Moby Dick.

“Ye be, be ye?  Coming back afore breakfast?”

“He’s cracked, Queequeg,” said I, “come on.”

“Holloa!” cried stationary Elijah, hailing us when we had removed a few paces.

“Never mind him,” said I, “Queequeg, come on.”

But he stole up to us again, and suddenly clapping his hand on my shoulder, said—­“Did ye see anything looking like men going towards that ship a while ago?”

Struck by this plain matter-of-fact question, I answered, saying, “Yes, I thought I did see four or five men; but it was too dim to be sure.”

“Very dim, very dim,” said Elijah.  “Morning to ye.”

Once more we quitted him; but once more he came softly after us; and touching my shoulder again, said, “See if you can find ’em now, will ye?

“Find who?”

“Morning to ye! morning to ye!” he rejoined, again moving off.  “Oh!  I was going to warn ye against—­but never mind, never mind—­ it’s all one, all in the family too;—­sharp frost this morning, ain’t it?  Good-bye to ye.  Shan’t see ye again very soon, I guess; unless it’s before the Grand Jury.”  And with these cracked words he finally departed, leaving me, for the moment, in no small wonderment at his frantic impudence.

At last, stepping on board the Pequod, we found everything in profound quiet, not a soul moving.  The cabin entrance was locked within; the hatches were all on, and lumbered with coils of rigging.  Going forward to the forecastle, we found the slide of the scuttle open.  Seeing a light, we went down, and found only an old rigger there, wrapped in a tattered pea-jacket.  He was thrown at whole length upon two chests, his face downwards and inclosed in his folded arms.  The profoundest slumber slept upon him.

“Those sailors we saw, Queequeg, where can they have gone to?” said I, looking dubiously at the sleeper.  But it seemed that, when on the wharf, Queequeg had not at all noticed what I now alluded to; hence I would have thought myself to have been optically deceived in that matter, were it not for Elijah’s otherwise inexplicable question.  But I beat the thing down; and again marking the sleeper, jocularly hinted to Queequeg that perhaps we had best sit up with the body; telling him to establish himself accordingly.  He put his hand upon the sleeper’s rear, as though feeling if it was soft enough; and then, without more ado, sat quietly down there.

“Gracious!  Queequeg, don’t sit there,” said I.

“Oh; perry dood seat,” said Queequeg, “my country way; won’t hurt him face.”

“Face!” said I, “call that his face? very benevolent countenance then; but how hard he breathes, he’s heaving himself; get off, Queequeg, you are heavy, it’s grinding the face of the poor.  Get off, Queequeg!  Look, he’ll twitch you off soon.  I wonder he don’t wake.”

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Moby Dick: or, the White Whale from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.