Queequeg in His Coffin

Upon searching, it was found that the casks last struck into the hold were perfectly sound, and that the leak must be further off. So, it being calm weather, they broke out deeper and deeper, disturbing the slumbers of the huge ground-tier butts; and from that black midnight sending those gigantic moles into the daylight above. So deep did they go; and so ancient, and corroded, and weedy the aspect of the lowermost puncheons, that you almost looked next for some mouldy corner-stone cask containing coins of Captain Noah, with copies of the posted placards, vainly warning the infatuated old world from the flood. Tierce after tierce, too, of water, and bread, and beef, and shooks of staves, and iron bundles of hoops, were hoisted out, till at last the piled decks were hard to get about; and the hollow hull echoed under foot, as if you were treading over empty catacombs, and reeled and rolled in the sea like an air-freighted demijohn. Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head. Well was it that the Typhoons did not visit them then.

On searching, they found that the casks most recently lowered into the hold were perfectly sound. The leak had to be farther in. Since the weather was calm, they dug deeper and deeper into the cargo, disturbing the sleeping giants in the bottom tier. From that black midnight, they sent those gigantic moles up into daylight. They went so deep, and the lowest casks looked so ancient, corroded, and covered in weeds, that you almost expected to find some moldy cornerstone cask. It might contain coins from Captain Noah’s time and copies of the posted notices that had vainly warned the deluded old world of the flood. They also hoisted out cask after cask of water, bread, and beef, along with bundles of barrel staves and iron hoops. At last, the decks were piled so high that they were hard to get around. The hollow hull echoed underfoot, as if you were walking over empty catacombs. It reeled and rolled in the sea like a large glass bottle filled with air. The ship was as top-heavy as a student who had missed dinner but had all of Aristotle in his head. It was fortunate that the Typhoons did not visit them then.

Now, at this time it was that my poor pagan companion, and fast bosom-friend, Queequeg, was seized with a fever, which brought him nigh to his endless end.

At that time, my poor pagan companion and closest friend, Queequeg, came down with a fever that nearly killed him.

Be it said, that in this vocation of whaling, sinecures are unknown; dignity and danger go hand in hand; till you get to be Captain, the higher you rise the harder you toil. So with poor Queequeg, who, as harpooneer, must not only face all the rage of the living whale, but—as we have elsewhere seen—mount his dead back in a rolling sea; and finally descend into the gloom of the hold, and bitterly sweating all day in that subterraneous confinement, resolutely manhandle the clumsiest casks and see to their stowage. To be short, among whalemen, the harpooneers are the holders, so called.

In whaling, there are no easy jobs. Rank and danger go hand in hand. Until you become Captain, the higher you rise, the harder you work. So it was with poor Queequeg. As a harpooneer, he had to face all the fury of a living whale. He also had to climb onto its dead back in a rolling sea, as we have seen elsewhere. Finally, he had to go down into the dim hold. There, sweating heavily all day in that underground confinement, he had to wrestle the most unwieldy casks into place. He also had to make sure they were properly stowed. In short, among whalemen, the harpooneers are the men called holders.

Poor Queequeg! when the ship was about half disembowelled, you should have stooped over the hatchway, and peered down upon him there; where, stripped to his woollen drawers, the tattooed savage was crawling about amid that dampness and slime, like a green spotted lizard at the bottom of a well. And a well, or an ice-house, it somehow proved to him, poor pagan; where, strange to say, for all the heat of his sweatings, he caught a terrible chill which lapsed into a fever; and at last, after some days’ suffering, laid him in his hammock, close to the very sill of the door of death. How he wasted and wasted away in those few long-lingering days, till there seemed but little left of him but his frame and tattooing. But as all else in him thinned, and his cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre; and mildly but deeply looked out at you there from his sickness, a wondrous testimony to that immortal health in him which could not die, or be weakened. And like circles on the water, which, as they grow fainter, expand; so his eyes seemed rounding and rounding, like the rings of Eternity. An awe that cannot be named would steal over you as you sat by the side of this waning savage, and saw as strange things in his face, as any beheld who were bystanders when Zoroaster died. For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books. And the drawing near of Death, which alike levels all, alike impresses all with a last revelation, which only an author from the dead could adequately tell. So that—let us say it again—no dying Chaldee or Greek had higher and holier thoughts than those, whose mysterious shades you saw creeping over the face of poor Queequeg, as he quietly lay in his swaying hammock, and the rolling sea seemed gently rocking him to his final rest, and the ocean’s invisible flood-tide lifted him higher and higher towards his destined heaven.

Poor Queequeg! When the ship was about half emptied, you should have leaned over the hatchway and looked down at him. Stripped to his woolen underwear, the tattooed savage crawled through the dampness and slime. He looked like a green spotted lizard at the bottom of a well. And for him, poor pagan, it somehow proved to be a well or an icehouse. Strangely, despite all the heat of his sweating, he caught a terrible chill that turned into a fever. After some days of suffering, it laid him in his hammock, close to the very threshold of death. How he wasted away during those few long, lingering days! At last, little seemed left of him but his frame and tattoos. But as the rest of him grew thinner and his cheekbones sharpened, his eyes seemed to grow fuller and fuller. They took on a strangely soft glow. From his sickbed, they looked out at you gently but deeply. They were a wonderful sign of the immortal health within him, which could not die or grow weak. Like circles spreading on water as they fade, his eyes seemed to grow rounder and rounder, like the rings of Eternity. An unnamed awe would steal over you as you sat beside this fading savage. In his face you saw things as strange as any seen by those who stood beside Zoroaster when he died. For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in humans has never yet been put into words or books. Death draws near to all and makes all equal. It also impresses all with a final revelation that only an author returned from the dead could adequately describe. So let us say it again. No dying Chaldee or Greek had higher or holier thoughts than those you saw mysteriously passing over poor Queequeg's face. He lay quietly in his swaying hammock, while the rolling sea seemed to rock him gently to his final rest. And the ocean's invisible rising tide lifted him higher and higher toward his destined heaven.

Not a man of the crew but gave him up; and, as for Queequeg himself, what he thought of his case was forcibly shown by a curious favour he asked. He called one to him in the grey morning watch, when the day was just breaking, and taking his hand, said that while in Nantucket he had chanced to see certain little canoes of dark wood, like the rich war-wood of his native isle; and upon inquiry, he had learned that all whalemen who died in Nantucket, were laid in those same dark canoes, and that the fancy of being so laid had much pleased him; for it was not unlike the custom of his own race, who, after embalming a dead warrior, stretched him out in his canoe, and so left him to be floated away to the starry archipelagoes; for not only do they believe that the stars are isles, but that far beyond all visible horizons, their own mild, uncontinented seas, interflow with the blue heavens; and so form the white breakers of the milky way. He added, that he shuddered at the thought of being buried in his hammock, according to the usual sea-custom, tossed like something vile to the death-devouring sharks. No: he desired a canoe like those of Nantucket, all the more congenial to him, being a whaleman, that like a whale-boat these coffin-canoes were without a keel; though that involved but uncertain steering, and much lee-way adown the dim ages.

Every man in the crew had given him up for lost. As for Queequeg himself, a curious favor he asked showed clearly what he thought of his condition. In the gray morning watch, just as day was breaking, he called someone over and took his hand. He said that in Nantucket he had seen some small canoes made of dark wood. The wood resembled the rich war-wood of his native island. When he asked about them, he learned that all whalemen who died in Nantucket were laid in those dark canoes. The thought of being laid in one had greatly pleased him. It reminded him of a custom of his own people. After embalming a dead warrior, they stretched him out in his canoe and left him to float away to the starry archipelagoes. For they believed not only that the stars were islands, but also that their own gentle seas had no continents. Far beyond every visible horizon, those seas flowed into the blue heavens, forming the white breakers of the Milky Way. He added that he shuddered at the thought of being buried in his hammock, as was usual at sea. He would be tossed to the death-devouring sharks like something vile. No, he wanted a canoe like those in Nantucket. As a whaleman, he found the coffin-canoes even more appealing because, like a whale-boat, they had no keel. Though without a keel, his course would be uncertain, and he would drift far sideways through the dim ages.

Now, when this strange circumstance was made known aft, the carpenter was at once commanded to do Queequeg’s bidding, whatever it might include. There was some heathenish, coffin-coloured old lumber aboard, which, upon a long previous voyage, had been cut from the aboriginal groves of the Lackaday islands, and from these dark planks the coffin was recommended to be made. No sooner was the carpenter apprised of the order, than taking his rule, he forthwith with all the indifferent promptitude of his character, proceeded into the forecastle and took Queequeg’s measure with great accuracy, regularly chalking Queequeg’s person as he shifted the rule.

When word of this strange circumstance reached the officers at the stern, the carpenter was ordered to do whatever Queequeg asked. There was some old, heathenish, coffin-colored lumber aboard. It had been cut from the native groves of the Lackaday islands on a long voyage some time before. The crew recommended making the coffin from these dark planks. As soon as the carpenter heard the order, he took his measuring rule and went to the forecastle with his usual indifferent promptness. He measured Queequeg very carefully, marking his body with chalk as he moved the rule.

“Ah! poor fellow! he’ll have to die now,” ejaculated the Long Island sailor.

“Oh! Poor guy! He’ll have to die now,” exclaimed the Long Island sailor.

Going to his vice-bench, the carpenter for convenience sake and general reference, now transferringly measured on it the exact length the coffin was to be, and then made the transfer permanent by cutting two notches at its extremities. This done, he marshalled the planks and his tools, and to work.

The carpenter went to his workbench and measured out the exact length of the coffin on it. This gave him a convenient reference. He then made the measurement permanent by cutting a notch at each end. With that done, he arranged the planks and his tools and went to work.

When the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he lightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring whether they were ready for it yet in that direction.

When the last nail was driven in and the lid was planed and fitted, he easily lifted the coffin onto his shoulder. He carried it toward the front of the ship, asking whether they were ready for it there yet.

Overhearing the indignant but half-humorous cries with which the people on deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one’s consternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to him, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some dying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will shortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be indulged.

Queequeg overheard the people on deck shouting indignantly, but half jokingly, as they began to drive the coffin away. To everyone’s dismay, he ordered them to bring it to him at once. No one could refuse him, because some dying men are among the most tyrannical people alive. And surely, since they will soon stop troubling us forever, the poor fellows ought to be indulged.

Leaning over in his hammock, Queequeg long regarded the coffin with an attentive eye. He then called for his harpoon, had the wooden stock drawn from it, and then had the iron part placed in the coffin along with one of the paddles of his boat. All by his own request, also, biscuits were then ranged round the sides within: a flask of fresh water was placed at the head, and a small bag of woody earth scraped up in the hold at the foot; and a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up for a pillow, Queequeg now entreated to be lifted into his final bed, that he might make trial of its comforts, if any it had. He lay without moving a few minutes, then told one to go to his bag and bring out his little god, Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his breast with Yojo between, he called for the coffin lid (hatch he called it) to be placed over him. The head part turned over with a leather hinge, and there lay Queequeg in his coffin with little but his composed countenance in view. “Rarmai” (it will do; it is easy), he murmured at last, and signed to be replaced in his hammock.

Leaning over in his hammock, Queequeg studied the coffin for a long time. He then called for his harpoon and had its wooden shaft removed. He had the iron part placed in the coffin, along with one of his boat’s paddles. At his own request, biscuits were arranged around the inside. A flask of fresh water was placed at the head. A small bag of woody earth scraped up from the hold was placed at the foot. A piece of sailcloth was rolled up for a pillow. Queequeg then asked to be lifted into his final bed so he could test its comforts, if it had any. He lay still for a few minutes. Then he told someone to fetch his little god, Yojo, from his bag. He crossed his arms over his chest with Yojo between them. Then he called for the coffin lid to be placed over him. He called the lid a hatch. The head section opened on a leather hinge, leaving little but Queequeg’s calm face visible in the coffin. “Rarmai” (it will do; it is comfortable), he murmured at last. Then he motioned to be put back in his hammock.

But ere this was done, Pip, who had been slily hovering near by all this while, drew nigh to him where he lay, and with soft sobbings, took him by the hand; in the other, holding his tambourine.

But before this was done, Pip came over to where he lay. Pip had been quietly hovering nearby all this time. Sobbing softly, he took the man's hand, holding his tambourine in the other.

“Poor rover! will ye never have done with all this weary roving? where go ye now? But if the currents carry ye to those sweet Antilles where the beaches are only beat with water-lilies, will ye do one little errand for me? Seek out one Pip, who’s now been missing long: I think he’s in those far Antilles. If ye find him, then comfort him; for he must be very sad; for look! he’s left his tambourine behind;—I found it. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die; and I’ll beat ye your dying march.”

“Poor wanderer! Will you never be done with all this weary wandering? Where are you going now? But if the currents carry you to those sweet Antilles, where only water lilies wash against the beaches, will you do one little errand for me? Look for Pip, who has been missing for a long time. I think he’s in those faraway Antilles. If you find him, comfort him, because he must be very sad. Look! He left his tambourine behind. I found it. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die, and I’ll beat out your dying march.”

“I have heard,” murmured Starbuck, gazing down the scuttle, “that in violent fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked in ancient tongues; and that when the mystery is probed, it turns out always that in their wholly forgotten childhood those ancient tongues had been really spoken in their hearing by some lofty scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor Pip, in this strange sweetness of his lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers of all our heavenly homes. Where learned he that, but there?—Hark! he speaks again: but more wildly now.”

“I’ve heard,” murmured Starbuck, looking down the hatch, “that in violent fevers, completely uneducated men have spoken in ancient languages. When people investigate the mystery, they always find the same thing. In their long-forgotten childhood, the men had actually heard learned scholars speak those languages. So, in my hopeful faith, I believe poor Pip brings heavenly proof of our heavenly homes in the strange sweetness of his madness. Where else could he have learned that but in heaven? Listen! He’s speaking again, but more wildly now.”

“Form two and two! Let’s make a General of him! Ho, where’s his harpoon? Lay it across here.—Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh for a game cock now to sit upon his head and crow! Queequeg dies game!—mind ye that; Queequeg dies game!—take ye good heed of that; Queequeg dies game! I say; game, game, game! but base little Pip, he died a coward; died all a’shiver;—out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye find Pip, tell all the Antilles he’s a runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he jumped from a whale-boat! I’d never beat my tambourine over base Pip, and hail him General, if he were once more dying here. No, no! shame upon all cowards—shame upon them! Let ’em go drown like Pip, that jumped from a whale-boat. Shame! shame!”

“Form pairs! Let’s make him a General! Hey, where’s his harpoon? Lay it across here. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Hooray! Oh, if only a fighting rooster could sit on his head and crow! Queequeg dies bravely! Remember that. Queequeg dies bravely! Take good note of that. Queequeg dies bravely, I say. Bravely, bravely, bravely! But lowly little Pip died a coward. He died trembling all over. Shame on Pip! Listen. If you find Pip, tell everyone in the Antilles he’s a runaway. A coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he jumped from a whale-boat! If lowly Pip were dying here again, I’d never beat my tambourine over him and hail him as General. No, no! Shame on all cowards. Shame on them! Let them drown like Pip, who jumped from a whale-boat. Shame! Shame!”

During all this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes, as if in a dream. Pip was led away, and the sick man was replaced in his hammock.

Throughout all this, Queequeg lay with his eyes closed, as if dreaming. Pip was led away, and the sick man was put back in his hammock.

But now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now that his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon there seemed no need of the carpenter’s box: and thereupon, when some expressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the cause of his sudden convalescence was this;—at a critical moment, he had just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone; and therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet, he averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter of his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a word, it was Queequeg’s conceit, that if a man made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale, or some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort.

But now, after apparently making every preparation for death and testing his coffin for fit, Queequeg suddenly recovered. Soon, the carpenter’s box seemed unnecessary. Some people expressed delighted surprise, and Queequeg explained, in effect, why he had suddenly recovered. At a critical moment, he had remembered a small duty ashore that he had left undone. So he had changed his mind about dying. He insisted that he could not die yet. They then asked whether living or dying was entirely a matter of his own will and choice. He answered that it certainly was. In short, Queequeg believed that if a man made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him. Only a whale, a gale, or some other violent, uncontrollable, unthinking destroyer of that kind could kill him.

Now, there is this noteworthy difference between savage and civilized; that while a sick, civilized man may be six months convalescing, generally speaking, a sick savage is almost half-well again in a day. So, in good time my Queequeg gained strength; and at length after sitting on the windlass for a few indolent days (but eating with a vigorous appetite) he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw out his arms and legs, gave himself a good stretching, yawned a little bit, and then springing into the head of his hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon, pronounced himself fit for a fight.

There is a noteworthy difference between a savage and a civilized person. A sick, civilized man may take six months to recover. Generally speaking, a sick savage is almost half well again in a day. So, in due time, my Queequeg regained his strength. He spent a few lazy days sitting on the windlass, though he ate with a hearty appetite. Then he suddenly leaped to his feet, flung out his arms and legs, stretched himself well, and yawned a little. He sprang into the bow of his boat, which had been hoisted up, raised a harpoon, and declared himself ready for a fight.

With a wild whimsiness, he now used his coffin for a sea-chest; and emptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there. Many spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of grotesque figures and drawings; and it seemed that hereby he was striving, in his rude way, to copy parts of the twisted tattooing on his body. And this tattooing had been the work of a departed prophet and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a mystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own live heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore destined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon they were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last. And this thought it must have been which suggested to Ahab that wild exclamation of his, when one morning turning away from surveying poor Queequeg—“Oh, devilish tantalization of the gods!”

With wild whimsy, Queequeg now used his coffin as a sea chest. He emptied his canvas bag of clothes into it and arranged them there. He spent many spare hours carving all kinds of grotesque figures and drawings into the lid. It seemed he was trying, in his rough way, to copy parts of the twisting tattoos on his body. The tattoos were the work of a dead prophet and seer from his island. With those hieroglyphic marks, the prophet had written a complete theory of heaven and earth on Queequeg’s body. He had also written a mystical treatise on the art of finding truth. So Queequeg himself was a riddle to be unraveled, a wondrous work in a single volume. But even he could not read its mysteries, though his own living heart beat against them. Those mysteries were therefore destined to decay with the living parchment on which they were written. They would remain unsolved to the end. This thought must have prompted Ahab’s wild exclamation one morning, as he turned away from looking at poor Queequeg: “Oh, devilish torment of the gods!”