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1Next morning, Monday, after disposing of the embalmed head to a barber, for a block, I settled my own and comrade's
2bill; using, however, my comrade's money. The grinning landlord, as well as the boarders, seemed amazingly tickled at
3the sudden friendship which had sprung up between me and Queequeg--especially as Peter Coffin's cock and bull stories
4about him had previously so much alarmed me concerning the very person whom I now companied with. We borrowed a
5wheelbarrow, and embarking our things, including my own poor carpet-bag, and Queequeg's canvas sack and hammock, away we
6went down to "the Moss," the little Nantucket packet schooner moored at the wharf. As we were going along the people
7stared; not at Queequeg so much--for they were used to seeing cannibals like him in their streets,--but at seeing him
8and me upon such confidential terms. But we heeded them not, going along wheeling the barrow by turns, and Queequeg now
9and then stopping to adjust the sheath on his harpoon barbs. I asked him why he carried such a troublesome thing with
10him ashore, and whether all whaling ships did not find their own harpoons. To this, in substance, he replied, that
11though what I hinted was true enough, yet he had a particular affection for his own harpoon, because it was of assured
12stuff, well tried in many a mortal combat, and deeply intimate with the hearts of whales. In short, like many inland
13reapers and mowers, who go into the farmers' meadows armed with their own scythes--though in no wise obliged to furnish
14them--even so, Queequeg, for his own private reasons, preferred his own harpoon. Shifting the barrow from my hand to
15his, he told me a funny story about the first wheelbarrow he had ever seen. It was in Sag Harbor. The owners of his
16ship, it seems, had lent him one, in which to carry his heavy chest to his boarding house. Not to seem ignorant about
17the thing--though in truth he was entirely so, concerning the precise way in which to manage the barrow--Queequeg puts
18his chest upon it; lashes it fast; and then shoulders the barrow and marches up the wharf. "Why," said I, "Queequeg, you
19might have known better than that, one would think. Didn't the people laugh?" Upon this, he told me another story. The
20people of his island of Rokovoko, it seems, at their wedding feasts express the fragrant water of young cocoanuts into a
21large stained calabash like a punchbowl; and this punchbowl always forms the great central ornament on the braided mat
22where the feast is held. Now a certain grand merchant ship once touched at Rokovoko, and its commander--from all
23accounts, a very stately punctilious gentleman, at least for a sea captain--this commander was invited to the wedding
24feast of Queequeg's sister, a pretty young princess just turned of ten. Well; when all the wedding guests were assembled
25at the bride's bamboo cottage, this Captain marches in, and being assigned the post of honor, placed himself over
26against the punchbowl, and between the High Priest and his majesty the King, Queequeg's father. Grace being said,--for
27those people have their grace as well as we--though Queequeg told me that unlike us, who at such times look downwards to
28our platters, they, on the contrary, copying the ducks, glance upwards to the great Giver of all feasts--Grace, I say,
29being said, the High Priest opens the banquet by the immemorial ceremony of the island; that is, dipping his consecrated
30and consecrating fingers into the bowl before the blessed beverage circulates. Seeing himself placed next the Priest,
31and noting the ceremony, and thinking himself--being Captain of a ship--as having plain precedence over a mere island
32King, especially in the King's own house--the Captain coolly proceeds to wash his hands in the punchbowl;--taking it I
33suppose for a huge finger-glass. "Now," said Queequeg, "what you tink now?--Didn't our people laugh?" At last, passage
34paid, and luggage safe, we stood on board the schooner. Hoisting sail, it glided down the Acushnet river. On one side,
35New Bedford rose in terraces of streets, their ice-covered trees all glittering in the clear, cold air. Huge hills and
36mountains of casks on casks were piled upon her wharves, and side by side the world-wandering whale ships lay silent and
37safely moored at last; while from others came a sound of carpenters and coopers, with blended noises of fires and forges
38to melt the pitch, all betokening that new cruises were on the start; that one most perilous and long voyage ended, only
39begins a second; and a second ended, only begins a third, and so on, for ever and for aye. Such is the endlessness, yea,
40the intolerableness of all earthly effort. Gaining the more open water, the bracing breeze waxed fresh; the little Moss
41tossed the quick foam from her bows, as a young colt his snortings. How I snuffed that Tartar air!--how I spurned that
42turnpike earth!--that common highway all over dented with the marks of slavish heels and hoofs; and turned me to admire
43the magnanimity of the sea which will permit no records. At the same foam-fountain, Queequeg seemed to drink and reel
44with me. His dusky nostrils swelled apart; he showed his filed and pointed teeth. On, on we flew; and our offing gained,
45the Moss did homage to the blast; ducked and dived her bows as a slave before the Sultan. Sideways leaning, we sideways
46darted; every ropeyarn tingling like a wire; the two tall masts buckling like Indian canes in land tornadoes. So full of
47this reeling scene were we, as we stood by the plunging bowsprit, that for some time we did not notice the jeering
48glances of the passengers, a lubber-like assembly, who marvelled that two fellow beings should be so companionable; as
49though a white man were anything more dignified than a whitewashed negro. But there were some boobies and bumpkins
50there, who, by their intense greenness, must have come from the heart and centre of all verdure. Queequeg caught one of
51these young saplings mimicking him behind his back. I thought the bumpkin's hour of doom was come. Dropping his harpoon,
52the brawny savage caught him in his arms, and by an almost miraculous dexterity and strength, sent him high up bodily
53into the air; then slightly tapping his stern in mid-somerset, the fellow landed with bursting lungs upon his feet,
54while Queequeg, turning his back upon him, lighted his tomahawk pipe and passed it to me for a puff. "Capting! Capting!"
55yelled the bumpkin, running towards that officer; "Capting, Capting, here's the devil." "Hallo, you sir," cried the
56Captain, a gaunt rib of the sea, stalking up to Queequeg, "what in thunder do you mean by that? Don't you know you might
57have killed that chap?" "What him say?" said Queequeg, as he mildly turned to me. "He say," said I, "that you came near
58kill-e that man there," pointing to the still shivering greenhorn. "Kill-e," cried Queequeg, twisting his tattooed face
59into an unearthly expression of disdain, "ah! him bevy small-e fish-e; Queequeg no kill-e so small-e fish-e; Queequeg
60kill-e big whale!" "Look you," roared the Captain, "I'll kill-e you, you cannibal, if you try any more of your tricks
61aboard here; so mind your eye."
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