His Mark

As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us from his wigwam, saying he had not suspected my friend was a cannibal, and furthermore announcing that he let no cannibals on board that craft, unless they previously produced their papers.

We were walking down the wharf toward the ship, with Queequeg carrying his harpoon. Captain Peleg called loudly to us from his wigwam in his gruff voice. He said he had not suspected that my friend was a cannibal. He also announced that he allowed no cannibals aboard the ship unless they first showed their papers.

“What do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?” said I, now jumping on the bulwarks, and leaving my comrade standing on the wharf.

“What do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?” I said, jumping onto the ship’s side and leaving my friend standing on the wharf.

“I mean,” he replied, “he must show his papers.”

“I mean,” he replied, “he has to show his papers.”

“Yes,” said Captain Bildad in his hollow voice, sticking his head from behind Peleg’s, out of the wigwam. “He must show that he’s converted. Son of darkness,” he added, turning to Queequeg, “art thou at present in communion with any Christian church?”

“Yes,” said Captain Bildad in his hollow voice. He poked his head out of the wigwam from behind Peleg’s head. “He must show that he’s converted.” Turning to Queequeg, he added, “Son of darkness, are you currently a member of any Christian church?”

“Why,” said I, “he’s a member of the first Congregational Church.” Here be it said, that many tattooed savages sailing in Nantucket ships at last come to be converted into the churches.

“Why,” I said, “he’s a member of the First Congregational Church.” I should mention that many tattooed savages who sail on Nantucket ships eventually convert and join 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.

“First Congregational Church,” cried Bildad, “what! The one that worships in Deacon Deuteronomy Coleman’s meeting-house?” As he spoke, he took out his glasses and rubbed them with his large yellow bandana handkerchief. He put them on very carefully and came out of the wigwam. Then he leaned stiffly over the ship’s railing and 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.”

“How long has he been a member?” he asked, turning to me. “Not very long, I’d 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.”

“No,” said Peleg, “and he hasn’t been baptized properly either. If he had, 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.”

“Tell me,” cried Bildad, “is this Philistine a regular member of Deacon Deuteronomy’s congregation? I’ve never seen him going to the meeting, and I pass it every Sunday.”

“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 First Congregational Church. He is a deacon himself, Queequeg is.”

“I don’t know anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or his meeting,” I said. “All I know is that Queequeg here was born a member of the First Congregational Church. Queequeg is a deacon himself.”

“Young man,” said Bildad sternly, “thou art skylarking with me—explain thyself, thou young Hittite. What church dost thee mean? answer me.”

“Young man,” said Bildad sternly, “you’re joking with me. Explain yourself, you young Hittite. What church do you mean? Answer me.”

Finding myself thus hard pushed, I replied. “I mean, sir, the same ancient Catholic Church to which you and I, and Captain Peleg there, and Queequeg here, and all of us, and every mother’s son and soul of us belong; the great and everlasting First Congregation of this whole worshipping world; we all belong to that; only some of us cherish some queer crotchets no ways touching the grand belief; in that we all join hands.”

Feeling pressed, I replied. “I mean, sir, the same ancient Catholic Church to which you and I belong. Captain Peleg there belongs to it, and Queequeg here, and all of us, every last person and soul. It is the great and everlasting First Congregation of this whole worshipping world. We all belong to it. Only some of us hold odd notions that have nothing to do with the great belief. In that we all join hands.”

“Splice, thou mean’st splice hands,” cried Peleg, drawing nearer. “Young man, you’d better ship for a missionary, instead of a fore-mast hand; I never heard a better sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy—why Father Mapple himself couldn’t beat it, and he’s reckoned something. Come aboard, come aboard; never mind about the papers. I say, tell Quohog there—what’s that you call him? tell Quohog to step along. By the great anchor, what a harpoon he’s got there! looks like good stuff that; and he handles it about right. I say, Quohog, or whatever your name is, did you ever stand in the head of a whale-boat? did you ever strike a fish?”

“Splice, you mean splice hands,” cried Peleg, moving closer. “Young man, you’d better sign on as a missionary instead of a foremast hand. I’ve never heard a better sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy, even Father Mapple couldn’t do better, and he’s highly regarded. Come aboard, come aboard. Never mind the papers. Say, tell Quohog there, what do you call him? Tell Quohog to come along. By the great anchor, what a harpoon he’s got there! It looks like good stuff, and he handles it just right. Say, Quohog, or whatever your name is, have you ever stood in the bow of a whaleboat? Have you ever struck a whale?”

Without saying a word, Queequeg, in his wild sort of way, jumped upon the bulwarks, from thence into the bows of one of the whale-boats hanging to the side; and then bracing his left knee, and poising his harpoon, cried out in some such way as this:—

Without a word, Queequeg jumped onto the bulwarks in his wild way. From there, he jumped into the bow of a whaleboat hanging at the ship's side. Then he braced his left knee, raised his harpoon, and cried out something like this:

“Cap’ain, you see him small drop tar on water dere? You see him? well, spose him one whale eye, well, den!” and taking sharp aim at it, he darted the iron right over old Bildad’s broad brim, clean across the ship’s decks, and struck the glistening tar spot out of sight.

“Captain, do you see that little drop of tar on the water? Do you see it? Well, suppose it’s a whale’s eye!” He took careful aim and threw the harpoon right over old Bildad’s broad hat brim. It flew across the ship’s decks and struck the glistening tar spot, knocking it out of sight.

“Now,” said Queequeg, quietly hauling in the line, “spos-ee him whale-e eye; why, dad whale dead.”

“Now,” said Queequeg, quietly pulling in the line, “suppose it were a whale’s eye. Then that whale would be dead.”

“Quick, Bildad,” said Peleg, his partner, who, aghast at the close 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.”

“Quick, Bildad,” said his partner Peleg. Alarmed by how close the flying harpoon had come, Peleg had backed toward the cabin entrance. “Quick, I say, Bildad, get the ship’s papers. We must have Hedgehog there, I mean Quohog, in one of our boats. Look, Quohog, we’ll give you the ninetieth lay, one ninetieth of the profits. That’s more than any harpooner from Nantucket has ever been given.”

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.

So we went down to the cabin, and to my great joy, Queequeg soon joined the same ship’s crew as me.

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?”

When all the preparations were complete and Peleg had everything ready for signing, he turned to me. “I guess Quohog there doesn’t know how to write, does he? Hey, Quohog, damn you! Do you sign your name or make your 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:—

But Queequeg showed no embarrassment at the question. He had taken part in similar ceremonies two or three times before. He took the pen he was offered and copied a strange round figure from his tattooed arm onto the paper, in the proper place. Because Captain Peleg stubbornly insisted on getting his name wrong, the result looked something like this:

Quohog. his X mark.

Quohog. His X mark.

Meanwhile Captain Bildad sat earnestly and steadfastly eyeing Queequeg, and at last rising solemnly and fumbling in the huge pockets of his broad-skirted drab coat, took out a bundle of tracts, and selecting one entitled “The Latter Day Coming; or No Time to Lose,” placed it in Queequeg’s hands, and then grasping them and the book with both his, looked earnestly into his eyes, and said, “Son of darkness, I must do my duty by thee; I am part owner of this ship, and feel concerned for the souls of all its crew; if thou still clingest to thy Pagan ways, which I sadly fear, I beseech thee, remain not for aye a Belial bondsman. Spurn the idol Bell, and the hideous dragon; turn from the wrath to come; mind thine eye, I say; oh! goodness gracious! steer clear of the fiery pit!”

Meanwhile, Captain Bildad sat watching Queequeg intently and steadily. At last, he rose solemnly and searched the huge pockets of his loose, grayish-brown coat. He took out a bundle of religious pamphlets and chose one titled “The Latter Day Coming; or No Time to Lose.” He placed it in Queequeg’s hands, then clasped Queequeg’s hands and the pamphlet in both of his own. Looking intently into Queequeg’s eyes, he said, “Son of darkness, I must do my duty by you. I am part owner of this ship, and I am concerned for the souls of all its crew. If you still cling to your Pagan ways, as I sadly fear you do, I beg you, do not remain Belial’s slave forever. Reject the idol Bell and the hideous dragon. Turn away from the wrath to come. Watch yourself, I say. Oh, goodness gracious! Steer clear of the fiery pit!”

Something of the salt sea yet lingered in old Bildad’s language, heterogeneously mixed with Scriptural and domestic phrases.

Some of the sea still lingered in old Bildad’s speech, mixed with phrases from the Bible and everyday life.

“Avast there, avast there, Bildad, avast now spoiling our harpooneer,” cried Peleg. “Pious harpooneers never make good voyagers—it takes the shark out of ’em; no harpooneer is worth a straw who aint pretty sharkish. There was young Nat Swaine, once the bravest boat-header out of all Nantucket and the Vineyard; he joined the meeting, and never came to good. He got so frightened about his plaguy soul, that he shrinked and sheered away from whales, for fear of after-claps, in case he got stove and went to Davy Jones.”

“Stop there, stop there, Bildad. Stop spoiling our harpooneer,” cried Peleg. “Pious harpooneers never make good voyagers. Piety takes the shark out of them, and no harpooneer is worth a thing unless he’s pretty sharkish. Take young Nat Swaine. He was once the bravest boat-header in all Nantucket and the Vineyard. He joined the religious meeting and never came to any good. He got so frightened about his cursed soul that he shrank back and veered away from whales. He feared what might happen afterward if his boat was smashed and he drowned, going to Davy Jones.”

“Peleg! Peleg!” said Bildad, lifting his eyes and hands, “thou thyself, as I myself, hast seen many a perilous time; thou knowest, Peleg, what it is to have the fear of death; how, then, can’st thou prate in this ungodly guise. Thou beliest thine own heart, Peleg. Tell me, when this same Pequod here had her three masts overboard in that typhoon on Japan, that same voyage when thou went mate with Captain Ahab, did’st thou not think of Death and the Judgment then?”

“Peleg! Peleg!” said Bildad, lifting his eyes and hands. “You and I have both faced many dangers. You know, Peleg, what it is to fear death. How, then, can you talk in such a godless way? You are denying what you know in your own heart, Peleg. Tell me, when the Pequod lost all three masts in that typhoon off Japan, didn’t you think of Death and the Judgment? That was the same voyage when you served as mate under Captain Ahab.”

“Hear him, hear him now,” cried Peleg, marching across the cabin, and thrusting his hands far down into his pockets,—“hear him, all of ye. Think of that! When every moment we thought the ship would sink! Death and the Judgment then? What? With all three masts making such an everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over us, fore and aft. Think of Death and the Judgment then? No! no time to think about Death then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I was thinking of; and how to save all hands—how to rig jury-masts—how to get into the nearest port; that was what I was thinking of.”

“Listen to him, listen to him now,” cried Peleg. He marched across the cabin, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. “All of you, listen to him. Think of that! We thought the ship would sink at any moment! Death and Judgment then? What? All three masts were thundering endlessly against the side, and every wave was breaking over us from bow to stern. Think of Death and Judgment then? No! There was no time to think about Death then. Captain Ahab and I were thinking about life. I was thinking about how to save everyone aboard, how to rig temporary masts, and how to reach the nearest port.”

Bildad said no more, but buttoning up his coat, stalked on deck, where we followed him. There he stood, very quietly overlooking some sailmakers who were mending a top-sail in the waist. Now and then he stooped to pick up a patch, or save an end of tarred twine, which otherwise might have been wasted.

Bildad said no more. He buttoned his coat and strode onto the deck, and we followed him. There he stood quietly, watching some sailmakers mend a topsail in the middle of the ship. Now and then he bent down to pick up a patch or save a piece of tarred twine that might otherwise have been wasted.