CHAPTER 3 The Spouter-Inn

Enteringthatgable-endedSpouter-Inn,youfoundyourselfinawide,low,stragglingentrywithold-fashionedwainscots,remindingoneofthebulwarksofsomecondemnedoldcraft.Ononesidehungaverylargeoilpaintingsothoroughlybesmoked,andeverywaydefaced,thatintheunequalcrosslightsbywhichyouviewedit,itwasonlybydiligentstudyandaseriesofsystematicvisitstoit,andcarefulinquiryoftheneighbors,thatyoucouldanywayarriveatanunderstandingofitspurpose.Suchunaccountablemassesofshadesandshadows,thatatfirstyoualmostthoughtsomeambitiousyoungartist,inthetimeoftheNewEnglandhags,hadendeavoredtodelineatechaosbewitched.Butbydintofmuchandearnestcontemplation,andoftrepeatedponderings,andespeciallybythrowingopenthelittlewindowtowardsthebackoftheentry,youatlastcometotheconclusionthatsuchanidea,howeverwild,mightnotbealtogetherunwarranted.

Butwhatmostpuzzledandconfoundedyouwasalong,limber,portentous,blackmassofsomethinghoveringinthecentreofthepictureoverthreeblue,dim,perpendicularlinesfloatinginanamelessyeast.Aboggy,soggy,squitchypicturetruly,enoughtodriveanervousmandistracted.Yetwasthereasortofindefinite,half-attained,unimaginablesublimityaboutitthatfairlyfrozeyoutoit,tillyouinvoluntarilytookanoathwithyourselftofindoutwhatthatmarvellouspaintingmeant.Everandanonabright,but,alas,deceptiveideawoulddartyouthrough.—It'stheBlackSeainamidnightgale.—It'stheunnaturalcombatofthefourprimalelements.—It'sablastedheath.—It'saHyperboreanwinterscene.—It'sthebreaking-upoftheiceboundstreamofTime.Butatlastallthesefanciesyieldedtothatoneportentoussomethinginthepicture'smidst.Thatoncefoundout,andalltherestwereplain.Butstop;doesitnotbearafaintresemblancetoagiganticfish?eventhegreatleviathanhimself?

Infact,theartist'sdesignseemedthis:afinaltheoryofmyown,partlybasedupontheaggregatedopinionsofmanyagedpersonswithwhomIconverseduponthesubject.ThepicturerepresentsaCape-Hornerinagreathurricane;thehalf-founderedshipwelteringtherewithitsthreedismantledmastsalonevisible;andanexasperatedwhale,purposingtospringcleanoverthecraft,isintheenormousactofimpalinghimselfuponthethreemast-heads.

Theoppositewallofthisentrywashungalloverwithaheathenisharrayofmonstrousclubsandspears.Somewerethicklysetwithglitteringteethresemblingivorysaws;othersweretuftedwithknotsofhumanhair;andonewassickle-shaped,withavasthandlesweepingroundlikethesegmentmadeinthenewmowngrassbyalong-armedmower.Youshudderedasyougazed,andwonderedwhatmonstrouscannibalandsavagecouldeverhavegoneadeath-harvestingwithsuchahacking,horrifyingimplement.Mixedwiththesewererustyoldwhalinglancesandharpoonsallbrokenanddeformed.Somewerestoriedweapons.Withthisoncelonglance,nowwildlyelbowed,fiftyyearsagodidNathanSwainkillfifteenwhalesbetweenasunriseandasunset.Andthatharpoon—solikeacorkscrewnow—wasflunginJavanseas,andrunawaywithbyawhale,yearsafterwardsslainofftheCapeofBlanco.Theoriginalironenterednighthetail,and,likearestlessneedlesojourninginthebodyofaman,travelledfullfortyfeet,andatlastwasfoundimbeddedinthehump.

Crossingthisduskyentry,andonthroughyonlowarchedway—cutthroughwhatinoldtimesmusthavebeenagreatcentralchimneywithfireplacesallround—youenterthepublicroom.Astillduskierplaceisthis,withsuchlowponderousbeamsabove,andsucholdwrinkledplanksbeneath,thatyouwouldalmostfancyyoutrodsomeoldcraft'scockpits,especiallyofsuchahowlingnight,whenthiscorneranchoredoldarkrockedsofuriously.Ononesidestoodalong,low,shelf-liketablecoveredwithcrackedglasscases,filledwithdustyraritiesgatheredfromthiswideworld'sremotestnooks.Projectingfromthefurtherangleoftheroomstandsadark-lookingden—thebar—arudeattemptatarightwhale'shead.Bethathowitmay,therestandsthevastarchedboneofthewhale'sjaw,sowide,acoachmightalmostdrivebeneathit.Withinareshabbyshelves,rangedroundwitholddecanters,bottles,flasks;andinthosejawsofswiftdestruction,likeanothercursedJonah(bywhichnameindeedtheycalledhim),bustlesalittlewitheredoldman,who,fortheirmoney,dearlysellsthesailorsdeliriumsanddeath.

Abominablearethetumblersintowhichhepourshispoison.Thoughtruecylinderswithout—within,thevillanousgreengogglingglassesdeceitfullytapereddownwardstoacheatingbottom.Parallelmeridiansrudelypeckedintotheglass,surroundthesefootpads'goblets.Filltothismark,andyourchargeisbutapenny;tothisapennymore;andsoontothefullglass—theCapeHornmeasure,whichyoumaygulpdownforashilling.

UponenteringtheplaceIfoundanumberofyoungseamengatheredaboutatable,examiningbyadimlightdiversspecimensofskrimshander.Isoughtthelandlord,andtellinghimIdesiredtobeaccommodatedwitharoom,receivedforanswerthathishousewasfull—notabedunoccupied."Butavast,"headded,tappinghisforehead,"youhaintnoobjectionstosharingaharpooneer'sblanket,haveye?Is'poseyouaregoin'a-whalin',soyou'dbettergetusedtothatsortofthing."

ItoldhimthatIneverlikedtosleeptwoinabed;thatifIshouldeverdoso,itwoulddependuponwhotheharpooneermightbe,andthatifhe(thelandlord)reallyhadnootherplaceforme,andtheharpooneerwasnotdecidedlyobjectionable,whyratherthanwanderfurtheraboutastrangetownonsobitteranight,Iwouldputupwiththehalfofanydecentman'sblanket.

"Ithoughtso.Allright;takeaseat.Supper?—youwantsupper?Supper'llbereadydirectly."

Isatdownonanoldwoodensettle,carvedalloverlikeabenchontheBattery.Atoneendaruminatingtarwasstillfurtheradorningitwithhisjack-knife,stoopingoveranddiligentlyworkingawayatthespacebetweenhislegs.Hewastryinghishandatashipunderfullsail,buthedidn'tmakemuchheadway,Ithought.

Atlastsomefourorfiveofusweresummonedtoourmealinanadjoiningroom.ItwascoldasIceland—nofireatall—thelandlordsaidhecouldn'taffordit.Nothingbuttwodismaltallowcandles,eachinawindingsheet.Wewerefaintobuttonupourmonkeyjackets,andholdtoourlipscupsofscaldingteawithourhalffrozenfingers.Butthefarewasofthemostsubstantialkind—notonlymeatandpotatoes,butdumplings;goodheavens!dumplingsforsupper!Oneyoungfellowinagreenboxcoat,addressedhimselftothesedumplingsinamostdirefulmanner.

"Myboy,"saidthelandlord,"you'llhavethenightmaretoadeadsartainty."

"Landlord,"Iwhispered,"thatainttheharpooneerisit?"

"Oh,no,"saidhe,lookingasortofdiabolicallyfunny,"theharpooneerisadarkcomplexionedchap.Henevereatsdumplings,hedon't—heeatsnothingbutsteaks,andhelikes'emrare."

"Thedevilhedoes,"saysI."Whereisthatharpooneer?Ishehere?"

"He'llbehereaforelong,"wastheanswer.

Icouldnothelpit,butIbegantofeelsuspiciousofthis"darkcomplexioned"harpooneer.Atanyrate,Imadeupmymindthatifitsoturnedoutthatweshouldsleeptogether,hemustundressandgetintobedbeforeIdid.

Supperover,thecompanywentbacktothebarroom,when,knowingnotwhatelsetodowithmyself,Iresolvedtospendtherestoftheeveningasalookeron.

Presentlyariotingnoisewasheardwithout.Startingup,thelandlordcried,"That'stheGrampus'screw.Iseedherreportedintheoffingthismorning;athreeyears'voyage,andafullship.Hurrah,boys;nowwe'llhavethelatestnewsfromtheFeegees."

Atrampingofseabootswasheardintheentry;thedoorwasflungopen,andinrolledawildsetofmarinersenough.Envelopedintheirshaggywatchcoats,andwiththeirheadsmuffledinwoollencomforters,allbedarnedandragged,andtheirbeardsstiffwithicicles,theyseemedaneruptionofbearsfromLabrador.Theyhadjustlandedfromtheirboat,andthiswasthefirsthousetheyentered.Nowonder,then,thattheymadeastraightwakeforthewhale'smouth—thebar—whenthewrinkledlittleoldJonah,thereofficiating,soonpouredthemoutbrimmersallround.Onecomplainedofabadcoldinhishead,uponwhichJonahmixedhimapitch-likepotionofginandmolasses,whichhesworewasasovereigncureforallcoldsandcatarrhswhatsoever,nevermindofhowlongstanding,orwhethercaughtoffthecoastofLabrador,orontheweathersideofanice-island.

Theliquorsoonmountedintotheirheads,asitgenerallydoesevenwiththearrantesttopersnewlylandedfromsea,andtheybegancaperingaboutmostobstreperously.

Iobserved,however,thatoneofthemheldsomewhataloof,andthoughheseemeddesirousnottospoilthehilarityofhisshipmatesbyhisownsoberface,yetuponthewholeherefrainedfrommakingasmuchnoiseastherest.Thismaninterestedmeatonce;andsincethesea-godshadordainedthatheshouldsoonbecomemyshipmate(thoughbutasleeping-partnerone,sofarasthisnarrativeisconcerned),Iwillhereventureuponalittledescriptionofhim.Hestoodfullsixfeetinheight,withnobleshoulders,andachestlikeacoffer-dam.Ihaveseldomseensuchbrawninaman.Hisfacewasdeeplybrownandburnt,makinghiswhiteteethdazzlingbythecontrast;whileinthedeepshadowsofhiseyesfloatedsomereminiscencesthatdidnotseemtogivehimmuchjoy.HisvoiceatonceannouncedthathewasaSoutherner,andfromhisfinestature,IthoughthemustbeoneofthosetallmountaineersfromtheAlleghanianRidgeinVirginia.Whentherevelryofhiscompanionshadmountedtoitsheight,thismanslippedawayunobserved,andIsawnomoreofhimtillhebecamemycomradeonthesea.Inafewminutes,however,hewasmissedbyhisshipmates,andbeing,itseems,forsomereasonahugefavouritewiththem,theyraisedacryof"Bulkington!Bulkington!where'sBulkington?"anddartedoutofthehouseinpursuitofhim.

Itwasnowaboutnineo'clock,andtheroomseemingalmostsupernaturallyquietaftertheseorgies,Ibegantocongratulatemyselfuponalittleplanthathadoccurredtomejustprevioustotheentranceoftheseamen.

Nomanpreferstosleeptwoinabed.Infact,youwouldagooddealrathernotsleepwithyourownbrother.Idon'tknowhowitis,butpeopleliketobeprivatewhentheyaresleeping.Andwhenitcomestosleepingwithanunknownstranger,inastrangeinn,inastrangetown,andthatstrangeraharpooneer,thenyourobjectionsindefinitelymultiply.NorwasthereanyearthlyreasonwhyIasasailorshouldsleeptwoinabed,morethananybodyelse;forsailorsnomoresleeptwoinabedatsea,thanbachelorKingsdoashore.Tobesuretheyallsleeptogetherinoneapartment,butyouhaveyourownhammock,andcoveryourselfwithyourownblanket,andsleepinyourownskin.

ThemoreIponderedoverthisharpooneer,themoreIabominatedthethoughtofsleepingwithhim.Itwasfairtopresumethatbeingaharpooneer,hislinenorwoollen,asthecasemightbe,wouldnotbeofthetidiest,certainlynoneofthefinest.Ibegantotwitchallover.Besides,itwasgettinglate,andmydecentharpooneeroughttobehomeandgoingbedwards.Supposenow,heshouldtumbleinuponmeatmidnight—howcouldItellfromwhatvileholehehadbeencoming?

"Landlord!I'vechangedmymindaboutthatharpooneer.—Ishan'tsleepwithhim.I'lltrythebenchhere."

"Justasyouplease;I'msorryIcan'tspareyeatableclothforamattress,andit'saplaguyroughboardhere"—feelingoftheknotsandnotches."Butwaitabit,Skrimshander;I'vegotacarpenter'splanethereinthebar—wait,Isay,andI'llmakeyesnugenough."Sosayingheprocuredtheplane;andwithhisoldsilkhandkerchieffirstdustingthebench,vigorouslysettoplaningawayatmybed,thewhilegrinninglikeanape.Theshavingsflewrightandleft;tillatlasttheplane-ironcamebumpagainstanindestructibleknot.Thelandlordwasnearspraininghiswrist,andItoldhimforheaven'ssaketoquit—thebedwassoftenoughtosuitme,andIdidnotknowhowalltheplaningintheworldcouldmakeeiderdownofapineplank.Sogatheringuptheshavingswithanothergrin,andthrowingthemintothegreatstoveinthemiddleoftheroom,hewentabouthisbusiness,andleftmeinabrownstudy.

Inowtookthemeasureofthebench,andfoundthatitwasafoottooshort;butthatcouldbemendedwithachair.Butitwasafoottoonarrow,andtheotherbenchintheroomwasaboutfourincheshigherthantheplanedone—sotherewasnoyokingthem.Ithenplacedthefirstbenchlengthwisealongtheonlyclearspaceagainstthewall,leavingalittleintervalbetween,formybacktosettledownin.ButIsoonfoundthattherecamesuchadraughtofcoldairovermefromunderthesillofthewindow,thatthisplanwouldneverdoatall,especiallyasanothercurrentfromthericketydoormettheonefromthewindow,andbothtogetherformedaseriesofsmallwhirlwindsintheimmediatevicinityofthespotwhereIhadthoughttospendthenight.

Thedevilfetchthatharpooneer,thoughtI,butstop,couldn'tIstealamarchonhim—bolthisdoorinside,andjumpintohisbed,nottobewakenedbythemostviolentknockings?Itseemednobadidea;butuponsecondthoughtsIdismissedit.Forwhocouldtellbutwhatthenextmorning,sosoonasIpoppedoutoftheroom,theharpooneermightbestandingintheentry,allreadytoknockmedown!

Still,lookingroundmeagain,andseeingnopossiblechanceofspendingasufferablenightunlessinsomeotherperson'sbed,IbegantothinkthatafterallImightbecherishingunwarrantableprejudicesagainstthisunknownharpooneer.ThinksI,I'llwaitawhile;hemustbedroppinginbeforelong.I'llhaveagoodlookathimthen,andperhapswemaybecomejollygoodbedfellowsafterall—there'snotelling.

Butthoughtheotherboarderskeptcominginbyones,twos,andthrees,andgoingtobed,yetnosignofmyharpooneer.

"Landlord!"saidI,"whatsortofachapishe—doeshealwayskeepsuchlatehours?"Itwasnowhardupontwelveo'clock.

Thelandlordchuckledagainwithhisleanchuckle,andseemedtobemightilytickledatsomethingbeyondmycomprehension."No,"heanswered,"generallyhe'sanearlybird—airleytobedandairleytorise—yes,he'sthebirdwhatcatchestheworm.Butto-nighthewentoutapeddling,yousee,andIdon'tseewhatonairthkeepshimsolate,unless,maybe,hecan'tsellhishead."

"Can'tsellhishead?—Whatsortofabamboozinglystoryisthisyouaretellingme?"gettingintoatoweringrage."Doyoupretendtosay,landlord,thatthisharpooneerisactuallyengagedthisblessedSaturdaynight,orratherSundaymorning,inpeddlinghisheadaroundthistown?"

"That'spreciselyit,"saidthelandlord,"andItoldhimhecouldn'tsellithere,themarket'soverstocked."

"Withwhat?"shoutedI.

"Withheadstobesure;ain'ttheretoomanyheadsintheworld?"

"Itellyouwhatitis,landlord,"saidIquitecalmly,"you'dbetterstopspinningthatyarntome—I'mnotgreen."

"Maybenot,"takingoutastickandwhittlingatoothpick,"butIraytherguessyou'llbedonebrownifthatereharpooneerhearsyouaslanderin'hishead."

"I'llbreakitforhim,"saidI,nowflyingintoapassionagainatthisunaccountablefarragoofthelandlord's.

"It'sbrokea'ready,"saidhe.

"Broke,"saidI—"broke,doyoumean?"

"Sartain,andthat'stheveryreasonhecan'tsellit,Iguess."

"Landlord,"saidI,goinguptohimascoolasMt.Heclainasnow-storm—"landlord,stopwhittling.YouandImustunderstandoneanother,andthattoowithoutdelay.Icometoyourhouseandwantabed;youtellmeyoucanonlygivemehalfaone;thattheotherhalfbelongstoacertainharpooneer.Andaboutthisharpooneer,whomIhavenotyetseen,youpersistintellingmethemostmystifyingandexasperatingstoriestendingtobegetinmeanuncomfortablefeelingtowardsthemanwhomyoudesignformybedfellow—asortofconnexion,landlord,whichisanintimateandconfidentialoneinthehighestdegree.Inowdemandofyoutospeakoutandtellmewhoandwhatthisharpooneeris,andwhetherIshallbeinallrespectssafetospendthenightwithhim.Andinthefirstplace,youwillbesogoodastounsaythatstoryaboutsellinghishead,whichiftrueItaketobegoodevidencethatthisharpooneerisstarkmad,andI'venoideaofsleepingwithamadman;andyou,sir,youImean,landlord,you,sir,bytryingtoinducemetodosoknowingly,wouldtherebyrenderyourselfliabletoacriminalprosecution."

"Wall,"saidthelandlord,fetchingalongbreath,"that'sapurtylongsarmonforachapthatripsalittlenowandthen.Butbeeasy,beeasy,thishereharpooneerIhavebeentellin'youofhasjustarrivedfromthesouthseas,whereheboughtupalotof'balmedNewZealandheads(greatcurios,youknow),andhe'ssoldallon'embutone,andthatonehe'stryingtosellto-night,causeto-morrow'sSunday,anditwouldnotdotobesellin'humanheadsaboutthestreetswhenfolksisgoin'tochurches.Hewantedto,lastSunday,butIstoppedhimjustashewasgoin'outofthedoorwithfourheadsstrungonastring,foralltheairthlikeastringofinions."

Thisaccountcleareduptheotherwiseunaccountablemystery,andshowedthatthelandlord,afterall,hadhadnoideaoffoolingme—butatthesametimewhatcouldIthinkofaharpooneerwhostayedoutofaSaturdaynightcleanintotheholySabbath,engagedinsuchacannibalbusinessassellingtheheadsofdeadidolators?

"Dependuponit,landlord,thatharpooneerisadangerousman."

"Hepaysreg'lar,"wastherejoinder."Butcome,it'sgettingdreadfullate,youhadbetterbeturningflukes—it'sanicebed;Salandmesleptinthaterebedthenightwewerespliced.There'splentyofroomfortwotokickaboutinthatbed;it'sanalmightybigbedthat.Why,aforewegiveitup,SalusedtoputourSamandlittleJohnnyinthefootofit.ButIgotadreamingandsprawlingaboutonenight,andsomehow,Samgotpitchedonthefloor,andcamenearbreakinghisarm.Arterthat,Salsaiditwouldn'tdo.Comealonghere,I'llgiveyeagliminajiffy;"andsosayinghelightedacandleandheldittowardsme,offeringtoleadtheway.ButIstoodirresolute;whenlookingataclockinthecorner,heexclaimed"Ivumit'sSunday—youwon'tseethatharpooneerto-night;he'scometoanchorsomewhere—comealongthen;docome;won'tyecome?"

Iconsideredthematteramoment,andthenupstairswewent,andIwasusheredintoasmallroom,coldasaclam,andfurnished,sureenough,withaprodigiousbed,almostbigenoughindeedforanyfourharpooneerstosleepabreast.

"There,"saidthelandlord,placingthecandleonacrazyoldseachestthatdiddoubledutyasawash-standandcentretable;"there,makeyourselfcomfortablenow,andgoodnighttoye."Iturnedroundfromeyeingthebed,buthehaddisappeared.

Foldingbackthecounterpane,Istoopedoverthebed.Thoughnoneofthemostelegant,ityetstoodthescrutinytolerablywell.Ithenglancedroundtheroom;andbesidesthebedsteadandcentretable,couldseenootherfurniturebelongingtotheplace,butarudeshelf,thefourwalls,andapaperedfireboardrepresentingamanstrikingawhale.Ofthingsnotproperlybelongingtotheroom,therewasahammocklashedup,andthrownuponthefloorinonecorner;alsoalargeseaman'sbag,containingtheharpooneer'swardrobe,nodoubtinlieuofalandtrunk.Likewise,therewasaparcelofoutlandishbonefishhooksontheshelfoverthefire-place,andatallharpoonstandingattheheadofthebed.

Butwhatisthisonthechest?Itookitup,andhelditclosetothelight,andfeltit,andsmeltit,andtriedeverywaypossibletoarriveatsomesatisfactoryconclusionconcerningit.Icancompareittonothingbutalargedoormat,ornamentedattheedgeswithlittletinklingtagssomethinglikethestainedporcupinequillsroundanIndianmoccasin.Therewasaholeorslitinthemiddleofthismat,asyouseethesameinSouthAmericanponchos.Butcoulditbepossiblethatanysoberharpooneerwouldgetintoadoormat,andparadethestreetsofanyChristiantowninthatsortofguise?Iputiton,totryit,anditweighedmedownlikeahamper,beinguncommonlyshaggyandthick,andIthoughtalittledamp,asthoughthismysteriousharpooneerhadbeenwearingitofarainyday.Iwentupinittoabitofglassstuckagainstthewall,andIneversawsuchasightinmylife.ItoremyselfoutofitinsuchahurrythatIgavemyselfakinkintheneck.

Isatdownonthesideofthebed,andcommencedthinkingaboutthishead-peddlingharpooneer,andhisdoormat.Afterthinkingsometimeonthebed-side,Igotupandtookoffmymonkeyjacket,andthenstoodinthemiddleoftheroomthinking.Ithentookoffmycoat,andthoughtalittlemoreinmyshirtsleeves.Butbeginningtofeelverycoldnow,halfundressedasIwas,andrememberingwhatthelandlordsaidabouttheharpooneer'snotcominghomeatallthatnight,itbeingsoverylate,Imadenomoreado,butjumpedoutofmypantaloonsandboots,andthenblowingoutthelighttumbledintobed,andcommendedmyselftothecareofheaven.

Whetherthatmattresswasstuffedwithcorn-cobsorbrokencrockery,thereisnotelling,butIrolledaboutagooddeal,andcouldnotsleepforalongtime.AtlastIslidoffintoalightdoze,andhadprettynearlymadeagoodoffingtowardsthelandofNod,whenIheardaheavyfootfallinthepassage,andsawaglimmeroflightcomeintotheroomfromunderthedoor.

Lordsaveme,thinksI,thatmustbetheharpooneer,theinfernalhead-peddler.ButIlayperfectlystill,andresolvednottosayawordtillspokento.Holdingalightinonehand,andthatidenticalNewZealandheadintheother,thestrangerenteredtheroom,andwithoutlookingtowardsthebed,placedhiscandleagoodwayofffrommeonthefloorinonecorner,andthenbeganworkingawayattheknottedcordsofthelargebagIbeforespokeofasbeingintheroom.Iwasalleagernesstoseehisface,buthekeptitavertedforsometimewhileemployedinunlacingthebag'smouth.Thisaccomplished,however,heturnedround—when,goodheavens!whatasight!Suchaface!Itwasofadark,purplish,yellowcolour,hereandtherestuckoverwithlargeblackishlookingsquares.Yes,it'sjustasIthought,he'saterriblebedfellow;he'sbeeninafight,gotdreadfullycut,andhereheis,justfromthesurgeon.Butatthatmomenthechancedtoturnhisfacesotowardsthelight,thatIplainlysawtheycouldnotbesticking-plastersatall,thoseblacksquaresonhischeeks.Theywerestainsofsomesortorother.AtfirstIknewnotwhattomakeofthis;butsoonaninklingofthetruthoccurredtome.Irememberedastoryofawhiteman—awhalemantoo—who,fallingamongthecannibals,hadbeentattooedbythem.Iconcludedthatthisharpooneer,inthecourseofhisdistantvoyages,musthavemetwithasimilaradventure.Andwhatisit,thoughtI,afterall!It'sonlyhisoutside;amancanbehonestinanysortofskin.Butthen,whattomakeofhisunearthlycomplexion,thatpartofit,Imean,lyingroundabout,andcompletelyindependentofthesquaresoftattooing.Tobesure,itmightbenothingbutagoodcoatoftropicaltanning;butIneverheardofahotsun'stanningawhitemanintoapurplishyellowone.However,IhadneverbeenintheSouthSeas;andperhapsthesunthereproducedtheseextraordinaryeffectsupontheskin.Now,whilealltheseideaswerepassingthroughmelikelightning,thisharpooneernevernoticedmeatall.But,aftersomedifficultyhavingopenedhisbag,hecommencedfumblinginit,andpresentlypulledoutasortoftomahawk,andaseal-skinwalletwiththehairon.Placingtheseontheoldchestinthemiddleoftheroom,hethentooktheNewZealandhead—aghastlythingenough—andcrammeditdownintothebag.Henowtookoffhishat—anewbeaverhat—whenIcamenighsingingoutwithfreshsurprise.Therewasnohaironhishead—nonetospeakofatleast—nothingbutasmallscalpknottwisteduponhisforehead.Hisbaldpurplishheadnowlookedforalltheworldlikeamildewedskull.Hadnotthestrangerstoodbetweenmeandthedoor,IwouldhaveboltedoutofitquickerthaneverIboltedadinner.

Evenasitwas,Ithoughtsomethingofslippingoutofthewindow,butitwasthesecondfloorback.Iamnocoward,butwhattomakeofthishead-peddlingpurplerascalaltogetherpassedmycomprehension.Ignoranceistheparentoffear,andbeingcompletelynonplussedandconfoundedaboutthestranger,IconfessIwasnowasmuchafraidofhimasifitwasthedevilhimselfwhohadthusbrokenintomyroomatthedeadofnight.Infact,IwassoafraidofhimthatIwasnotgameenoughjustthentoaddresshim,anddemandasatisfactoryanswerconcerningwhatseemedinexplicableinhim.

Meanwhile,hecontinuedthebusinessofundressing,andatlastshowedhischestandarms.AsIlive,thesecoveredpartsofhimwerecheckeredwiththesamesquaresashisface;hisback,too,wasalloverthesamedarksquares;heseemedtohavebeeninaThirtyYears'War,andjustescapedfromitwithastickingplastershirt.Stillmore,hisverylegsweremarked,asifaparcelofdarkgreenfrogswererunningupthetrunksofyoungpalms.ItwasnowquiteplainthathemustbesomeabominablesavageorothershippedaboardofawhalemanintheSouthSeas,andsolandedinthisChristiancountry.Iquakedtothinkofit.Apeddlerofheadstoo—perhapstheheadsofhisownbrothers.Hemighttakeafancytomine—heavens!lookatthattomahawk!

Buttherewasnotimeforshuddering,fornowthesavagewentaboutsomethingthatcompletelyfascinatedmyattention,andconvincedmethathemustindeedbeaheathen.Goingtohisheavygrego,orwrapall,ordreadnaught,whichhehadpreviouslyhungonachair,hefumbledinthepockets,andproducedatlengthacuriouslittledeformedimagewithahunchonitsback,andexactlythecolourofathreedays'oldCongobaby.Rememberingtheembalmedhead,atfirstIalmostthoughtthatthisblackmanikinwasarealbabypreservedinsomesimilarmanner.Butseeingthatitwasnotatalllimber,andthatitglistenedagooddeallikepolishedebony,Iconcludedthatitmustbenothingbutawoodenidol,whichindeeditprovedtobe.Fornowthesavagegoesuptotheemptyfire-place,andremovingthepaperedfire-board,setsupthislittlehunch-backedimage,likeatenpin,betweentheandirons.Thechimneyjambsandallthebricksinsidewereverysooty,sothatIthoughtthisfire-placemadeaveryappropriatelittleshrineorchapelforhisCongoidol.

Inowscrewedmyeyeshardtowardsthehalfhiddenimage,feelingbutillateasemeantime—toseewhatwasnexttofollow.Firsthetakesaboutadoublehandfulofshavingsoutofhisgregopocket,andplacesthemcarefullybeforetheidol;thenlayingabitofshipbiscuitontopandapplyingtheflamefromthelamp,hekindledtheshavingsintoasacrificialblaze.Presently,aftermanyhastysnatchesintothefire,andstillhastierwithdrawalsofhisfingers(wherebyheseemedtobescorchingthembadly),heatlastsucceededindrawingoutthebiscuit;thenblowingofftheheatandashesalittle,hemadeapoliteofferofittothelittlenegro.Butthelittledevildidnotseemtofancysuchdrysortoffareatall;henevermovedhislips.Allthesestrangeanticswereaccompaniedbystillstrangergutturalnoisesfromthedevotee,whoseemedtobeprayinginasing-songorelsesingingsomepaganpsalmodyorother,duringwhichhisfacetwitchedaboutinthemostunnaturalmanner.Atlastextinguishingthefire,hetooktheidolupveryunceremoniously,andbaggeditagaininhisgregopocketascarelesslyasifhewereasportsmanbaggingadeadwoodcock.

Allthesequeerproceedingsincreasedmyuncomfortableness,andseeinghimnowexhibitingstrongsymptomsofconcludinghisbusinessoperations,andjumpingintobedwithme,Ithoughtitwashightime,nowornever,beforethelightwasputout,tobreakthespellinwhichIhadsolongbeenbound.

ButtheintervalIspentindeliberatingwhattosay,wasafatalone.Takinguphistomahawkfromthetable,heexaminedtheheadofitforaninstant,andthenholdingittothelight,withhismouthatthehandle,hepuffedoutgreatcloudsoftobaccosmoke.Thenextmomentthelightwasextinguished,andthiswildcannibal,tomahawkbetweenhisteeth,sprangintobedwithme.Isangout,Icouldnothelpitnow;andgivingasuddengruntofastonishmenthebeganfeelingme.

Stammeringoutsomething,Iknewnotwhat,Irolledawayfromhimagainstthewall,andthenconjuredhim,whoeverorwhateverhemightbe,tokeepquiet,andletmegetupandlightthelampagain.Buthisgutturalresponsessatisfiedmeatoncethathebutillcomprehendedmymeaning.

"Who-edebelyou?"—heatlastsaid—"younospeak-e,dam-me,Ikill-e."Andsosayingthelightedtomahawkbeganflourishingaboutmeinthedark.

"Landlord,forGod'ssake,PeterCoffin!"shoutedI."Landlord!Watch!Coffin!Angels!saveme!

"Speak-e!tell-eemewho-eebe,ordam-me,Ikill-e!"againgrowledthecannibal,whilehishorridflourishingsofthetomahawkscatteredthehottobaccoashesaboutmetillIthoughtmylinenwouldgetonfire.Butthankheaven,atthatmomentthelandlordcameintotheroomlightinhand,andleapingfromthebedIranuptohim.

"Don'tbeafraidnow,"saidhe,grinningagain,"Queequegherewouldn'tharmahairofyourhead."

"Stopyourgrinning,"shoutedI,"andwhydidn'tyoutellmethatthatinfernalharpooneerwasacannibal?"

"Ithoughtyeknow'dit;—didn'tItellye,hewasapeddlin'headsaroundtown?—butturnflukesagainandgotosleep.Queequeg,lookhere—yousabbeeme,Isabbee—youthismansleepeyou—yousabbee?"

"Mesabbeeplenty"—gruntedQueequeg,puffingawayathispipeandsittingupinbed.

"Yougetteein,"headded,motioningtomewithhistomahawk,andthrowingtheclothestooneside.Hereallydidthisinnotonlyacivilbutareallykindandcharitableway.Istoodlookingathimamoment.Forallhistattooingshewasonthewholeaclean,comelylookingcannibal.What'sallthisfussIhavebeenmakingabout,thoughtItomyself—theman'sahumanbeingjustasIam:hehasjustasmuchreasontofearme,asIhavetobeafraidofhim.BettersleepwithasobercannibalthanadrunkenChristian.

"Landlord,"saidI,"tellhimtostashhistomahawkthere,orpipe,orwhateveryoucallit;tellhimtostopsmoking,inshort,andIwillturninwithhim.ButIdon'tfancyhavingamansmokinginbedwithme.It'sdangerous.Besides,Iain'tinsured."

ThisbeingtoldtoQueequeg,heatoncecomplied,andagainpolitelymotionedmetogetintobed—rollingovertoonesideasmuchastosay—"Iwon'ttouchalegofye."

"Goodnight,landlord,"saidI,"youmaygo."

Iturnedin,andneversleptbetterinmylife.