App-PigLatin

 view release on metacpan or  search on metacpan

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

sell it here, the market's overstocked."



"With what?" shouted I.



"With heads to be sure; ain't there too many heads in the world?"



"I tell you what it is, landlord," said I quite calmly,

"you'd better stop spinning that yarn to me--I'm not green."



"May be not," taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick,

"but I rayther guess you'll be done brown if that ere harpooneer

hears you a slanderin' his head."



"I'll break it for him," said I, now flying into a passion again

at this unaccountable farrago of the landlord's.



"It's broke a'ready," said he.



"Broke," said I--"broke, do you mean?"



"Sartain, and that's the very reason he can't sell it, I guess."



"Landlord," said I, going up to him as cool as Mt.  Hecla in a

snowstorm--"landlord, stop whittling.  You and I must understand

one another, and that too without delay.  I come to your house

and want a bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one;

that the other half belongs to a certain harpooneer.

And about this harpooneer, whom I have not yet seen, you persist

in telling me the most mystifying and exasperating stories tending

to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling towards the man whom you

design for my bedfellow--a sort of connexion, landlord, which is

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

their adieux.  At last, after much dodging search, he finds

the Tarshish ship receiving the last items of her cargo;

and as he steps on board to see its Captain in the cabin,

all the sailors for the moment desist from hoisting in the goods,

to mark the stranger's evil eye.  Jonah sees this; but in vain

he tries to look all ease and confidence; in vain essays his

wretched smile.  Strong intuitions of the man assure the mariners

he can be no innocent.  In their gamesome but still serious way,

one whispers to the other--"Jack, he's robbed a widow;"

or, "Joe, do you mark him; he's a bigamist;" or, "Harry lad,

I guess he's the adulterer that broke jail in old Gomorrah,

or belike, one of the missing murderers from Sodom."  Another runs

to read the bill that's stuck against the spile upon the wharf

to which the ship is moored, offering five hundred gold coins

for the apprehension of a parricide, and containing a description

of his person.  He reads, and looks from Jonah to the bill;

while all his sympathetic shipmates now crowd round Jonah,

prepared to lay their hands upon him.  Frighted Jonah trembles.

and summoning all his boldness to his face, only looks so much

the more a coward.  He will not confess himself suspected;

but that itself is strong suspicion.  So he makes the best of it;

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

and tell him to paint me a sign, with--"no suicides permitted here,

and no smoking in the parlor;"--might as well kill both

birds at once.  Kill?  The Lord be merciful to his ghost!

What's that noise there?  You, young man, avast there!"



And running up after me, she caught me as I was again trying to force

open the door.



"I won't allow it; I won't have my premises spoiled.

Go for the locksmith, there's one about a mile from here.  But avast!"

putting her hand in her side pocket, "here's a key that'll fit, I guess;

let's see."  And with that, she turned it in the lock; but alas!

Queequeg's supplemental bolt remained unwithdrawn within.



"Have to burst it open," said I, and was running down the entry

a little, for a good start, when the landlady caught at me,

again vowing I should not break down her premises; but I tore

from her, and with a sudden bodily rush dashed myself full

against the mark.



With a prodigious noise the door flew open, and the knob

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

ships at last come to be converted into the churches.



"First Congregational Church," cried Bildad, "what! that worships

in Deacon Deuteronomy Coleman's meeting-house?" and so saying,

taking out his spectacles, he rubbed them with his great yellow

bandana handkerchief, and putting them on very carefully,

came out of the wigwam, and leaning stiffly over the bulwarks,

took a good long look at Queequeg.



"How long hath he been a member?" he then said, turning to me;

"not very long, I rather guess, young man."



"No," said Peleg, "and he hasn't been baptized right either,

or it would have washed some of that devil's blue off his face."



"Do tell, now," cried Bildad, "is this Philistine a regular member

of Deacon Deuteronomy's meeting?  I never saw him going there,

and I pass it every Lord's day."



"I don't know anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or his meeting,"

said I; "all I know is, that Queequeg here is a born member of the

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

vicinity of the flying harpoon, had retreated towards the cabin gangway.

"Quick, I say, you Bildad, and get the ship's papers.

We must have Hedgehog there, I mean Quohog, in one of our boats.

Look ye, Quohog, we'll give ye the ninetieth lay, and that's more

than ever was given a harpooneer yet out of Nantucket."



So down we went into the cabin, and to my great joy Queequeg was soon

enrolled among the same ship's company to which I myself belonged.



When all preliminaries were over and Peleg had got everything ready

for signing, he turned to me and said, "I guess, Quohog there don't

know how to write, does he?  I say, Quohog, blast ye! dost thou sign

thy name or make thy mark?



But at this question, Queequeg, who had twice or thrice before taken

part in similar ceremonies, looked no ways abashed; but taking

the offered pen, copied upon the paper, in the proper place,

an exact counterpart of a queer round figure which was tattooed

upon his arm; so that through Captain Peleg's obstinate mistake

touching his appellative, it stood something like this:--

                             Quohog.

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

"That's true, that's true--yes, both true enough.

But you must jump when he gives an order.  Step and growl;

growl and go--that's the word with Captain Ahab.  But nothing

about that thing that happened to him off Cape Horn, long ago,

when he lay like dead for three days and nights; nothing about

that deadly skrimmage with the Spaniard afore the altar in Santa?--

heard nothing about that, eh?  Nothing about the silver calabash

he spat into?  And nothing about his losing his leg last voyage,

according to the prophecy.  Didn't ye hear a word about them

matters and something more, eh?  No, I don't think ye did;

how could ye?  Who knows it?  Not all Nantucket, I guess.

But hows'ever, mayhap, ye've heard tell about the leg,

and how he lost it; aye, ye have heard of that, I dare say.

Oh, yes, that every one knows a'most--I mean they know he's

only one leg; and that a parmacetti took the other off."



"My friend," said I, "what all this gibberish of yours

is about, I don't know, and I don't much care; for it seems

to me that you must be a little damaged in the head.

But if you are speaking of Captain Ahab, of that ship there,

the Pequod, then let me tell you, that I know all about the loss

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

CHAPTER 21



Going Aboard





It was nearly six o'clock, but only grey imperfect misty dawn,

when we drew nigh the wharf.



"There are some sailors running ahead there, if I see right,"

said I to Queequeg, "it can't be shadows; she's off by sunrise,

I guess; come on!"



"Avast!" cried a voice, whose owner at the same time coming

close behind us, laid a hand upon both our shoulders, and then

insinuating himself between us, stood stooping forward a little,

in the uncertain twilight, strangely peering from Queequeg to me.

It was Elijah.



"Going aboard?"



"Hands off, will you," said I.

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

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

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

and aft, he's about the queerest old man Stubb ever sailed with.

How he flashed at me!--his eyes like powder-pans! is he mad!

Anyway there's something's on his mind, as sure as there

must be something on a deck when it cracks.  He aint in his

bed now, either, more than three hours out of the twenty-four;

and he don't sleep then.  Didn't that Dough-Boy, the steward,

tell me that of a morning he always finds the old man's hammock

clothes all rumpled and tumbled, and the sheets down at the foot,

and the coverlid almost tied into knots, and the pillow a sort

of frightful hot, as though a baked brick had been on it?

A hot old man!  I guess he's got what some folks ashore

call a conscience; it's a kind of Tic-Dolly-row they say--

worse nor a toothache.  Well, well; I don't know what it is,

but the Lord keep me from catching it.  He's full of riddles;

I wonder what he goes into the after hold for, every night,

as Dough-Boy tells me he suspects; what's that for, I should

like to know?  Who's made appointments with him in the hold?

Ain't that queer, now?  But there's no telling, it's the old game--

Here goes for a snooze.  Damn me, it's worth a fellow's

while to be born into the world, if only to fall right asleep.

And now that I think of it, that's about the first thing

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

at the pyramid, a sort of badger-haired old merman, with a hump

on his back, takes me by the shoulders, and slews me round.

'What are you 'bout?' says he.  Slid! man, but I was frightened.

Such a phiz!  But, somehow, next moment I was over the fright.

'What am I about?' says I at last.  'And what business is that of yours,

I should like to know, Mr. Humpback?  Do you want a kick?'

By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said that, than he turned

round his stern to me, bent over, and dragging up a lot of seaweed

he had for a clout--what do you think, I saw?--why thunder alive,

man, his stern was stuck full of marlinspikes, with the points out.

Says I on second thought, 'I guess I won't kick you, old fellow.'

'Wise Stubb,' said he, 'wise Stubb;' and kept muttering it all

the time, a sort of eating of his own gums like a chimney hag.

Seeing he wasn't going to stop saying over his 'wise Stubb,

wise Stubb,' I thought I might as well fall to kicking the pyramid again.

But I had only just lifted my foot for it, when he roared out,

'Stop that kicking!'  'Halloa,' says I, 'what's the matter now,

old fellow?'  'Look ye here,' says he; 'let's argue the insult.

Captain Ahab kicked ye, didn't he?'  'Yes, he did,' says I--'right here

it was.'  'Very good,' says he--'he used his ivory leg, didn't he?'

'Yes, he did,' says I. 'Well then,' says he, 'wise Stubb, what have

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

I don't half like that chap, Stubb.  Did you ever notice how that

tusk of his is a sort of carved into a snake's head, Stubb?"



"Sink him!  I never look at him at all; but if ever I get a chance

of a dark night, and he standing hard by the bulwarks, and no one by;

look down there, Flask"--pointing into the sea with a peculiar motion

of both hands--"Aye, will I!  Flask, I take that Fedallah to be

the devil in disguise.  Do you believe that cock and bull story about

his having been stowed away on board ship?  He's the devil, I say.

The reason why you don't see his tail, is because he tucks it up

out of sight; he carries it coiled away in his pocket, I guess.

Blast him! now that I think of it, he's always wanting oakum to stuff

into the toes of his boots."



"He sleeps in his boots, don't he?  He hasn't got any hammock;

but I've seen him lay of nights in a coil of rigging."



"No doubt, and it's because of his cursed tail; he coils it down,

do ye see, in the eye of the rigging."



"What's the old man have so much to do with him for?"

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

and by the Lord, Flask, if the devil didn't give John the Asiatic cholera

before he got through with him, I'll eat this whale in one mouthful.

But look sharp--ain't you all ready there?  Well, then, pull ahead,

and let's get the whale alongside."



"I think I remember some such story as you were telling," said Flask,

when at last the two boats were slowly advancing with their burden

towards the ship, "but I can't remember where."



"Three Spaniards?  Adventures of those three bloody-minded soldadoes?

Did ye read it there, Flask?  I guess ye did?"



"No:  never saw such a book; heard of it, though.  But now,

tell me, Stubb, do you suppose that that devil you was speaking

of just now, was the same you say is now on board the Pequod?"



"Am I the same man that helped kill this whale?  Doesn't the devil

live for ever; who ever heard that the devil was dead?

Did you ever see any parson a wearing mourning for the devil?

And if the devil has a latch-key to get into the admiral's

cabin, don't you suppose he can crawl into a porthole?

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

"Do you suppose Fedallah wants to kidnap Captain Ahab?"



"Do I suppose it?  You'll know it before long, Flask.  But I am

going now to keep a sharp look-out on him; and if I see anything

very suspicious going on, I'll just take him by the nape of his neck,

and say--Look here, Beelzebub, you don't do it; and if he makes

any fuss, by the Lord I'll make a grab into his pocket for his tail,

take it to the capstan, and give him such a wrenching and heaving,

that his tail will come short off at the stump--do you see; and then,

I rather guess when he finds himself docked in that queer fashion,

he'll sneak off without the poor satisfaction of feeling his tail

between his legs."



"And what will you do with the tail, Stubb?"



"Do with it?  Sell it for an ox whip when we get home;--what else?"



"Now, do you mean what you say, and have been saying all along, Stubb?"



"Mean or not mean, here we are at the ship."

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

the roaring and devouring lion.  Ship, old ship! my old head shakes

to think of thee."



"There's another rendering now; but still one text.  All sorts of men

in one kind of world, you see.  Dodge again! here comes Queequeg--

all tattooing--looks like the signs of the Zodiac himself.  What says

the Cannibal?  As I live he's comparing notes; looking at his thigh bone;

thinks the sun is in the thigh, or in the calf, or in the bowels,

I suppose, as the old women talk Surgeon's Astronomy in the back country.

And by Jove, he's found something there in the vicinity of his thigh--

I guess it's Sagittarius, or the Archer.  No:  he don't know what to make

of the doubloon; he takes it for an old button off some king's trowsers.

But, aside again! here comes that ghost-devil, Fedallah; tail coiled

out of sight as usual, oakum in the toes of his pumps as usual.

What does he say, with that look of his?  Ah, only makes a sign

to the sign and bows himself; there is a sun on the coin--

fire worshipper, depend upon it.  Ho! more and more.  This way comes Pip--

poor boy! would he had died, or I; he's half horrible to me.

He too has been watching all of these interpreters myself included--

and look now, he comes to read, with that unearthly idiot face.

Stand away again and hear him.  Hark!"

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

for them presently.  Lucky now (sneezes) there's no knee-joint to make;

that might puzzle a little; but a mere shin-bone--why it's easy

as making hop-poles; only I should like to put a good finish on.

Time, time; if I but only had the time, I could turn him out as

neat a leg now as ever (sneezes) scraped to a lady in a parlor.

Those buckskin legs and calves of legs I've seen in shop windows

wouldn't compare at all.  They soak water, they do; and of course

get rheumatic, and have to be doctored (sneezes) with washes and lotions,

just like live legs.  There; before I saw it off, now, I must call

his old Mogulship, and see whether the length will be all right;

too short, if anything, I guess.  Ha! that's the heel; we are in luck;

here he comes, or it's somebody else, that's certain.  AHAB (advancing)



(During the ensuing scene, the carpenter continues sneezing at times).





Well, manmaker!



Just in time, sir.  If the captain pleases, I will now mark the length.

Let me measure, sir.

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

Sir?--Clay? clay, sir?  That's mud; we leave clay to ditchers, sir.



The fellow's impious!  What art thou sneezing about?



Bone is rather dusty, sir.



Take the hint, then; and when thou art dead, never bury thyself

under living people's noses.



Sir?--oh! ah!--I guess so; so;--yes, yes--oh dear!



Look ye, carpenter, I dare say thou callest thyself a right good

workmanlike workman, eh?  Well, then, will it speak thoroughly well

for thy work, if, when I come to mount this leg thou makest, I shall

nevertheless feel another leg in the same identical place with it;

that is, carpenter, my old lost leg; the flesh and blood one, I mean.

Canst thou not drive that old Adam away?



Truly, sir, I begin to understand somewhat now.

Yes, I have heard something curious on that score, sir;

t/files/moby11.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

let the carpenter make another log, and mend thou the line.

See to it."



"There he goes now; to him nothing's happened; but to me,

the skewer seems loosening out of the middle of the world.

Haul in, haul in, Tahitian!  These lines run whole, and whirling out:

come in broken, and dragging slow.  Ha, Pip? come to help; eh, Pip?"



"Pip? whom call ye Pip?  Pip jumped from the whaleboat.

Pip's missing.  Let's see now if ye haven't fished him

up here, fisherman.  It drags hard; I guess he's holding on.

Jerk him, Tahiti!  Jerk him off we haul in no cowards here.

Ho! there's his arm just breaking water.  A hatchet! a hatchet!

cut it off--we haul in no cowards here.  Captain Ahab! sir,

sir! here's Pip, trying to get on board again."



"Peace, thou crazy loon," cried the Manxman, seizing him by the arm.

"Away from the quarter-deck!"



"The greater idiot ever scolds the lesser," muttered Ahab, advancing.

"Hands off from that holiness!  Where sayest thou Pip was, boy?