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1Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg's arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate
2manner. You had almost thought I had been his wife. The counterpane was of patchwork, full of odd little parti-coloured
3squares and triangles; and this arm of his tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth of a figure, no two
4parts of which were of one precise shade--owing I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in sun and shade,
5his shirt sleeves irregularly rolled up at various times--this same arm of his, I say, looked for all the world like a
6strip of that same patchwork quilt. Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I could hardly tell it
7from the quilt, they so blended their hues together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I could
8tell that Queequeg was hugging me. My sensations were strange. Let me try to explain them. When I was a child, I well
9remember a somewhat similar circumstance that befell me; whether it was a reality or a dream, I never could entirely
10settle. The circumstance was this. I had been cutting up some caper or other--I think it was trying to crawl up the
11chimney, as I had seen a little sweep do a few days previous; and my stepmother who, somehow or other, was all the time
12whipping me, or sending me to bed supperless,--my mother dragged me by the legs out of the chimney and packed me off to
13bed, though it was only two o'clock in the afternoon of the 21st June, the longest day in the year in our hemisphere. I
14felt dreadfully. But there was no help for it, so up stairs I went to my little room in the third floor, undressed
15myself as slowly as possible so as to kill time, and with a bitter sigh got between the sheets. I lay there dismally
16calculating that sixteen entire hours must elapse before I could hope for a resurrection. Sixteen hours in bed! the
17small of my back ached to think of it. And it was so light too; the sun shining in at the window, and a great rattling
18of coaches in the streets, and the sound of gay voices all over the house. I felt worse and worse--at last I got up,
19dressed, and softly going down in my stockinged feet, sought out my stepmother, and suddenly threw myself at her feet,
20beseeching her as a particular favour to give me a good slippering for my misbehaviour; anything indeed but condemning
21me to lie abed such an unendurable length of time. But she was the best and most conscientious of stepmothers, and back
22I had to go to my room. For several hours I lay there broad awake, feeling a great deal worse than I have ever done
23since, even from the greatest subsequent misfortunes. At last I must have fallen into a troubled nightmare of a doze;
24and slowly waking from it--half steeped in dreams--I opened my eyes, and the before sun-lit room was now wrapped in
25outer darkness. Instantly I felt a shock running through all my frame; nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to be
26heard; but a supernatural hand seemed placed in mine. My arm hung over the counterpane, and the nameless, unimaginable,
27silent form or phantom, to which the hand belonged, seemed closely seated by my bed-side. For what seemed ages piled on
28ages, I lay there, frozen with the most awful fears, not daring to drag away my hand; yet ever thinking that if I could
29but stir it one single inch, the horrid spell would be broken. I knew not how this consciousness at last glided away
30from me; but waking in the morning, I shudderingly remembered it all, and for days and weeks and months afterwards I
31lost myself in confounding attempts to explain the mystery. Nay, to this very hour, I often puzzle myself with it. Now,
32take away the awful fear, and my sensations at feeling the supernatural hand in mine were very similar, in their
33strangeness, to those which I experienced on waking up and seeing Queequeg's pagan arm thrown round me. But at length
34all the past night's events soberly recurred, one by one, in fixed reality, and then I lay only alive to the comical
35predicament. For though I tried to move his arm--unlock his bridegroom clasp--yet, sleeping as he was, he still hugged
36me tightly, as though naught but death should part us twain. I now strove to rouse him--"Queequeg!"--but his only answer
37was a snore. I then rolled over, my neck feeling as if it were in a horse-collar; and suddenly felt a slight scratch.
38Throwing aside the counterpane, there lay the tomahawk sleeping by the savage's side, as if it were a hatchet-faced
39baby. A pretty pickle, truly, thought I; abed here in a strange house in the broad day, with a cannibal and a tomahawk!
40"Queequeg!--in the name of goodness, Queequeg, wake!" At length, by dint of much wriggling, and loud and incessant
41expostulations upon the unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow male in that matrimonial sort of style, I succeeded in
42extracting a grunt; and presently, he drew back his arm, shook himself all over like a Newfoundland dog just from the
43water, and sat up in bed, stiff as a pike-staff, looking at me, and rubbing his eyes as if he did not altogether
44remember how I came to be there, though a dim consciousness of knowing something about me seemed slowly dawning over
45him. Meanwhile, I lay quietly eyeing him, having no serious misgivings now, and bent upon narrowly observing so curious
46a creature. When, at last, his mind seemed made up touching the character of his bedfellow, and he became, as it were,
47reconciled to the fact; he jumped out upon the floor, and by certain signs and sounds gave me to understand that, if it
48pleased me, he would dress first and then leave me to dress afterwards, leaving the whole apartment to myself. Thinks I,
49Queequeg, under the circumstances, this is a very civilized overture; but, the truth is, these savages have an innate
50sense of delicacy, say what you will; it is marvellous how essentially polite they are. I pay this particular compliment
51to Queequeg, because he treated me with so much civility and consideration, while I was guilty of great rudeness;
52staring at him from the bed, and watching all his toilette motions; for the time my curiosity getting the better of my
53breeding. Nevertheless, a man like Queequeg you don't see every day, he and his ways were well worth unusual regarding.
54He commenced dressing at top by donning his beaver hat, a very tall one, by the by, and then--still minus his
55trowsers--he hunted up his boots. What under the heavens he did it for, I cannot tell, but his next movement was to
56crush himself--boots in hand, and hat on--under the bed; when, from sundry violent gaspings and strainings, I inferred
57he was hard at work booting himself; though by no law of propriety that I ever heard of, is any man required to be
58private when putting on his boots. But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition stage--neither caterpillar
59nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manners. His
60education was not yet completed. He was an undergraduate. If he had not been a small degree civilized, he very probably
61would not have troubled himself with boots at all; but then, if he had not been still a savage, he never would have
62dreamt of getting under the bed to put them on. At last, he emerged with his hat very much dented and crushed down over
63his eyes, and began creaking and limping about the room, as if, not being much accustomed to boots, his pair of damp,
64wrinkled cowhide ones--probably not made to order either--rather pinched and tormented him at the first go off of a
65bitter cold morning.
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