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1It was quite late in the evening when the little Moss came snugly to anchor, and Queequeg and I went ashore; so we could
2attend to no business that day, at least none but a supper and a bed. The landlord of the Spouter-Inn had recommended us
3to his cousin Hosea Hussey of the Try Pots, whom he asserted to be the proprietor of one of the best kept hotels in all
4Nantucket, and moreover he had assured us that Cousin Hosea, as he called him, was famous for his chowders. In short, he
5plainly hinted that we could not possibly do better than try pot-luck at the Try Pots. But the directions he had given
6us about keeping a yellow warehouse on our starboard hand till we opened a white church to the larboard, and then
7keeping that on the larboard hand till we made a corner three points to the starboard, and that done, then ask the first
8man we met where the place was: these crooked directions of his very much puzzled us at first, especially as, at the
9outset, Queequeg insisted that the yellow warehouse--our first point of departure--must be left on the larboard hand,
10whereas I had understood Peter Coffin to say it was on the starboard. However, by dint of beating about a little in the
11dark, and now and then knocking up a peaceable inhabitant to inquire the way, we at last came to something which there
12was no mistaking. Two enormous wooden pots painted black, and suspended by asses' ears, swung from the cross-trees of an
13old top-mast, planted in front of an old doorway. The horns of the cross-trees were sawed off on the other side, so that
14this old top-mast looked not a little like a gallows. Perhaps I was over sensitive to such impressions at the time, but
15I could not help staring at this gallows with a vague misgiving. A sort of crick was in my neck as I gazed up to the two
16remaining horns; yes, two of them, one for Queequeg, and one for me. It's ominous, thinks I. A Coffin my Innkeeper upon
17landing in my first whaling port; tombstones staring at me in the whalemen's chapel; and here a gallows! and a pair of
18prodigious black pots too! Are these last throwing out oblique hints touching Tophet? I was called from these
19reflections by the sight of a freckled woman with yellow hair and a yellow gown, standing in the porch of the inn, under
20a dull red lamp swinging there, that looked much like an injured eye, and carrying on a brisk scolding with a man in a
21purple woollen shirt. "Get along with ye," said she to the man, "or I'll be combing ye!" "Come on, Queequeg," said I,
22"all right. There's Mrs. Hussey." And so it turned out; Mr. Hosea Hussey being from home, but leaving Mrs. Hussey
23entirely competent to attend to all his affairs. Upon making known our desires for a supper and a bed, Mrs. Hussey,
24postponing further scolding for the present, ushered us into a little room, and seating us at a table spread with the
25relics of a recently concluded repast, turned round to us and said--"Clam or Cod?" "What's that about Cods, ma'am?" said
26I, with much politeness. "Clam or Cod?" she repeated. "A clam for supper? a cold clam; is that what you mean, Mrs.
27Hussey?" says I, "but that's a rather cold and clammy reception in the winter time, ain't it, Mrs. Hussey?" But being in
28a great hurry to resume scolding the man in the purple Shirt, who was waiting for it in the entry, and seeming to hear
29nothing but the word "clam," Mrs. Hussey hurried towards an open door leading to the kitchen, and bawling out "clam for
30two," disappeared. "Queequeg," said I, "do you think that we can make out a supper for us both on one clam?" However, a
31warm savory steam from the kitchen served to belie the apparently cheerless prospect before us. But when that smoking
32chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained. Oh, sweet friends! hearken to me. It was made of small juicy
33clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the
34whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt. Our appetites being sharpened by the frosty
35voyage, and in particular, Queequeg seeing his favourite fishing food before him, and the chowder being surpassingly
36excellent, we despatched it with great expedition: when leaning back a moment and bethinking me of Mrs. Hussey's clam
37and cod announcement, I thought I would try a little experiment. Stepping to the kitchen door, I uttered the word "cod"
38with great emphasis, and resumed my seat. In a few moments the savoury steam came forth again, but with a different
39flavor, and in good time a fine cod-chowder was placed before us. We resumed business; and while plying our spoons in
40the bowl, thinks I to myself, I wonder now if this here has any effect on the head? What's that stultifying saying about
41chowder-headed people? "But look, Queequeg, ain't that a live eel in your bowl? Where's your harpoon?" Fishiest of all
42fishy places was the Try Pots, which well deserved its name; for the pots there were always boiling chowders. Chowder
43for breakfast, and chowder for dinner, and chowder for supper, till you began to look for fish-bones coming through your
44clothes. The area before the house was paved with clam-shells. Mrs. Hussey wore a polished necklace of codfish vertebra;
45and Hosea Hussey had his account books bound in superior old shark-skin. There was a fishy flavor to the milk, too,
46which I could not at all account for, till one morning happening to take a stroll along the beach among some fishermen's
47boats, I saw Hosea's brindled cow feeding on fish remnants, and marching along the sand with each foot in a cod's
48decapitated head, looking very slip-shod, I assure ye. Supper concluded, we received a lamp, and directions from Mrs.
49Hussey concerning the nearest way to bed; but, as Queequeg was about to precede me up the stairs, the lady reached forth
50her arm, and demanded his harpoon; she allowed no harpoon in her chambers. "Why not?" said I; "every true whaleman
51sleeps with his harpoon--but why not?" "Because it's dangerous," says she. "Ever since young Stiggs coming from that
52unfort'nt v'y'ge of his, when he was gone four years and a half, with only three barrels of ile, was found dead in my
53first floor back, with his harpoon in his side; ever since then I allow no boarders to take sich dangerous weepons in
54their rooms at night. So, Mr. Queequeg" (for she had learned his name), "I will just take this here iron, and keep it
55for you till morning. But the chowder; clam or cod to-morrow for breakfast, men?" "Both," says I; "and let's have a
56couple of smoked herring by way of variety."
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