Moby Dick

he hunted up his boots.  What under the heavens he did it for,
I cannot tell, but his next movement was to crush himself--
boots in hand, and hat on--under the bed; when, from sundry
violent gaspings and strainings, I inferred he was hard at work
booting himself; though by no law of propriety that I ever heard of,
is any man required to be private when putting on his boots.
But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition state--
neither caterpillar nor butterfly.  He was just enough civilized
to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manner.
His education was not yet completed.  He was an undergraduate.
If he had not been a small degree civilized, he very probably
would not have troubled himself with boots at all; but then,
if he had not been still a savage, he never would have dreamt
of getting under the bed to put them on.  At last, he emerged
with his hat very much dented and crushed down over his eyes,
and began creaking and limping about the room, as if, not being
much accustomed to boots, his pair of damp, wrinkled cowhide ones--
probably not made to order either--rather pinched and tormented
him at the first go off of a bitter cold morning.

Seeing, now, that there were no curtains to the window, and that
the street being very narrow, the house opposite commanded a plain view
into the room, and observing more and more the indecorous figure that
Queequeg made, staving about with little else but his hat and boots on;
I begged him as well as I could, to accelerate his toilet somewhat,
and particularly to get into his pantaloons as soon as possible.
He complied, and then proceeded to wash himself.  At that time in
the morning any Christian would have washed his face; but Queequeg,
to my amazement, contented himself with restricting his ablutions
to his chest, arms, and hands.  He then donned his waistcoat,
and taking up a piece of hard soap on the wash-stand centre table,
dipped it into water and commenced lathering his face.
I was watching to see where he kept his razor, when lo and behold,
he takes the harpoon from the bed corner, slips out the long
wooden stock, unsheathes the head, whets it a little on his boot,
and striding up to the bit of mirror against the wall,
begins a vigorous scraping, or rather harpooning of his cheeks.
Thinks I, Queequeg, this is using Rogers's best cutlery with a vengeance.
Afterwards I wondered the less at this operation when I came to know
of what fine steel the head of a harpoon is made, and how exceedingly
sharp the long straight edges are always kept.

The rest of his toilet was soon achieved, and he proudly marched
out of the room, wrapped up in his great pilot monkey jacket,
and sporting his harpoon like a marshal's baton.



CHAPTER 5

Breakfast


I quickly followed suit, and descending into the bar-room accosted
the grinning landlord very pleasantly.  I cherished no malice
towards him, though he had been skylarking with me not a little
in the matter of my bedfellow.

However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too
scarce a good thing; the more's the pity.  So, if any one man,
in his own proper person, afford stuff for a good joke
to anybody, let him not be backward, but let him cheerfully
allow himself to spend and to be spent in that way.
And the man that has anything bountifully laughable about him,
be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.

The bar-room was now full of the boarders who had been dropping
in the night previous, and whom I had not as yet had a good look at.
They were nearly all whalemen; chief mates, and second mates,
and third mates, and sea carpenters, and sea coopers,
and sea blacksmiths, and harpooneers, and ship keepers;
a brown and brawny company, with bosky beards; an unshorn,
shaggy set, all wearing monkey jackets for morning gowns.

You could pretty plainly tell how long each one had been ashore.
This young fellow's healthy cheek is like a sun-toasted
pear in hue, and would seem to smell almost as musky;
he cannot have been three days landed from his Indian voyage.
That man next him looks a few shades lighter; you might say
a touch of satin wood is in him.  In the complexion of a third
still lingers a tropic tawn, but slightly bleached withal;
he doubtless has tarried whole weeks ashore.  But who could
show a cheek like Queequeg? which, barred with various tints,
seemed like the Andes' western slope, to show forth in one array,
contrasting climates, zone by zone.

"Grub, ho!" now cried the landlord, flinging open a door,
and in we went to breakfast.

They say that men who have seen the world, thereby become
quite at ease in manner, quite self-possessed in company.
Not always, though:  Ledyard, the great New England traveller,
and Mungo Park, the Scotch one; of all men, they possessed
the least assurance in the parlor.  But perhaps the mere
crossing of Siberia in a sledge drawn by dogs as Ledyard did,
or the taking a long solitary walk on an empty stomach, in the negro
heart of Africa, which was the sum of poor Mungo's performances--
this kind of travel, I say, may not be the very best mode
of attaining a high social polish.  Still, for the most part,
that sort of thing is to be had anywhere.