The Prophet

Chapter 19

The Prophet

6 min

“Shipmates, have ye shipped in that ship?”

“Shipmates, have you signed on to that ship?”

Queequeg and I had just left the Pequod, and were sauntering away from the water, for the moment each occupied with his own thoughts, when the above words were put to us by a stranger, who, pausing before us, levelled his massive forefinger at the vessel in question. He was but shabbily apparelled in faded jacket and patched trowsers; a rag of a black handkerchief investing his neck. A confluent small-pox had in all directions flowed over his face, and left it like the complicated ribbed bed of a torrent, when the rushing waters have been dried up.

Queequeg and I had just left the Pequod and were strolling away from the water, each lost in his own thoughts. A stranger stopped in front of us and spoke the words above, pointing a massive forefinger at the ship. He was shabbily dressed in a faded jacket and patched trousers, with a ragged black handkerchief around his neck. Smallpox had spread across his entire face, leaving it like the deeply furrowed bed of a dried-up torrent.

“Have ye shipped in her?” he repeated.

“Have you signed on to her?” he repeated.

“You mean the ship Pequod, I suppose,” said I, trying to gain a little more time for an uninterrupted look at him.

“You mean the ship Pequod, I suppose,” I said, trying to buy more time to get a good, uninterrupted look at him.

“Aye, the Pequod—that ship there,” he said, drawing back his whole arm, and then rapidly shoving it straight out from him, with the fixed bayonet of his pointed finger darted full at the object.

“Yes, the Pequod, that ship there,” he said. He drew his whole arm back, then quickly thrust it straight out. His pointed finger aimed at the ship like a fixed bayonet.

“Yes,” said I, “we have just signed the articles.”

“Yes,” I said, “we just signed the ship’s articles.”

“Anything down there about your souls?”

“About what?”

“Oh, perhaps you hav’n’t got any,” he said quickly. “No matter though, I know many chaps that hav’n’t got any,—good luck to ’em; and they are all the better off for it. A soul’s a sort of a fifth wheel to a wagon.”

“Oh, perhaps you don’t have one,” he said quickly. “No matter, though. I know many fellows who don’t have one. Good luck to them. They’re all better off without one. A soul is like a fifth wheel on a wagon.”

“What are you jabbering about, shipmate?” said I.

“What are you talking about, shipmate?” I said.

“He’s got enough, though, to make up for all deficiencies of that sort in other chaps,” abruptly said the stranger, placing a nervous emphasis upon the word he.

“He’s got enough, though, to make up for all those shortcomings in other guys,” the stranger said abruptly. He nervously emphasized the word he.

“Queequeg,” said I, “let’s go; this fellow has broken loose from somewhere; he’s talking about something and somebody we don’t know.”

“Queequeg,” I said, “let’s go. This fellow has escaped from somewhere. He’s talking about something and someone we don’t know.”

“Stop!” cried the stranger. “Ye said true—ye hav’n’t seen Old Thunder yet, have ye?”

“Stop!” cried the stranger. “You told the truth. You haven’t seen Old Thunder yet, have you?”

“Who’s Old Thunder?” said I, again riveted with the insane earnestness of his manner.

“Who’s Old Thunder?” I asked, once again captivated by the madness of his earnest manner.

“Captain Ahab.”

“What! the captain of our ship, the Pequod?”

“What! The captain of our ship, the Pequod?”

“Aye, among some of us old sailor chaps, he goes by that name. Ye hav’n’t seen him yet, have ye?”

“Yes, some of us old sailors call him that. You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

“No, we hav’n’t. He’s sick they say, but is getting better, and will be all right again before long.”

“No, we haven’t. They say he’s sick, but he’s getting better and will be all right again before long.”

“All right again before long!” laughed the stranger, with a solemnly derisive sort of laugh. “Look ye; when Captain Ahab is all right, then this left arm of mine will be all right; not before.”

“All right again soon!” The stranger laughed, a solemn, mocking laugh. “Look, when Captain Ahab is all right, my left arm will be all right. Not before.”

“What do you know about him?”

“What did they tell you about him? Say that!”

“What did they tell you about him? Tell me that!”

“They didn’t tell much of anything about him; only I’ve heard that he’s a good whale-hunter, and a good captain to his crew.”

“They didn’t tell me much about him. But I’ve heard he’s a good whale hunter and a good captain to his crew.”

“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.”

“That’s true, that’s true. Yes, both are true enough. But you must jump when he gives an order. Move and growl, growl and go. That’s the rule with Captain Ahab. But you heard nothing about what happened to him off Cape Horn long ago? When he lay as if dead for three days and nights? Nothing about that deadly fight with the Spaniard before the altar in Santa? You heard nothing about that, eh? Nothing about the silver calabash he spat into? And nothing about how he lost his leg last voyage, just as the prophecy said? Didn’t you hear a word about those things and something more, eh? No, I don’t think you did. How could you? Who knows about them? Not all of Nantucket, I’d guess. But anyway, perhaps you’ve heard about the leg and how he lost it. Yes, I dare say you have heard about that. Oh yes, almost everyone knows that. I mean, they know he has 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 of his leg.”

“My friend,” I said, “I don’t know what all your gibberish is about, and I don’t much care. You seem to me to be a little crazy. But if you mean Captain Ahab of that ship, the Pequod, let me tell you, I know all about how he lost his leg.”

“All about it, eh—sure you do?—all?”

“All about it, huh? Are you sure you do? All?”

“Pretty sure.”

With finger pointed and eye levelled at the Pequod, the beggar-like stranger stood a moment, as if in a troubled reverie; then starting a little, turned and said:—“Ye’ve shipped, have ye? Names down on the papers? Well, well, what’s signed, is signed; and what’s to be, will be; and then again, perhaps it won’t be, after all. Anyhow, it’s all fixed and arranged a’ready; and some sailors or other must go with him, I suppose; as well these as any other men, God pity ’em! Morning to ye, shipmates, morning; the ineffable heavens bless ye; I’m sorry I stopped ye.”

The beggar-like stranger pointed at the Pequod and fixed his eyes on it. He stood for a moment, as if lost in troubled thought. Then he gave a little start, turned, and said: “You’ve signed on, have you? Your names are on the papers? Well, well, what’s signed is signed. And what’s to be will be, though perhaps it won’t be after all. Anyway, it’s all settled and arranged already. And I suppose some sailors or other must go with him. These men are as good as any others, God pity them! Good morning, shipmates, good morning. May the indescribable heavens bless you. I’m sorry I stopped you.”

“Look here, friend,” said I, “if you have anything important to tell us, out with it; but if you are only trying to bamboozle us, you are mistaken in your game; that’s all I have to say.”

“Look here, friend,” I said, “if you have anything important to tell us, say it. But if you’re just trying to fool us, you’ve picked the wrong game. That’s all I have to say.”

“And it’s said very well, and I like to hear a chap talk up that way; you are just the man for him—the likes of ye. Morning to ye, shipmates, morning! Oh! when ye get there, tell ’em I’ve concluded not to make one of ’em.”

“And that’s very well said. I like to hear a fellow speak up like that. You’re just the man for him, someone like you. Good morning, shipmates, good morning! Oh, when you get there, tell them I’ve decided not to join them.”

“Ah, my dear fellow, you can’t fool us that way—you can’t fool us. It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he had a great secret in him.”

“Ah, my friend, you can’t fool us that way. You can’t fool us. It’s the easiest thing in the world for a man to look as if he has a great secret.”

“Morning to ye, shipmates, morning.”

“Morning to you, shipmates, morning.”

“Morning it is,” said I. “Come along, Queequeg, let’s leave this crazy man. But stop, tell me your name, will you?”

“Morning it is,” I said. “Come on, Queequeg, let’s leave this crazy man. But wait, will you tell me your name?”

“Elijah.”

Elijah! thought I, and we walked away, both commenting, after each other’s fashion, upon this ragged old sailor; and agreed that he was nothing but a humbug, trying to be a bugbear. But we had not gone perhaps above a hundred yards, when chancing to turn a corner, and looking back as I did so, who should be seen but Elijah following us, though at a distance. Somehow, the sight of him struck me so, that I said nothing to Queequeg of his being behind, but passed on with my comrade, anxious to see whether the stranger would turn the same corner that we did. He did; and then it seemed to me that he was dogging us, but with what intent I could not for the life of me imagine. This circumstance, coupled with his ambiguous, half-hinting, half-revealing, shrouded sort of talk, now begat in me all kinds of vague wonderments and half-apprehensions, and all connected with the Pequod; and Captain Ahab; and the leg he had lost; and the Cape Horn fit; and the silver calabash; and what Captain Peleg had said of him, when I left the ship the day previous; and the prediction of the squaw Tistig; and the voyage we had bound ourselves to sail; and a hundred other shadowy things.

Elijah! I thought. We walked away, each commenting in his own way on the ragged old sailor. We agreed that he was just a fraud, trying to frighten us. But we had gone perhaps no more than a hundred yards when we turned a corner. I happened to look back as we turned. Who should I see but Elijah, following us at a distance? Somehow, the sight struck me so much that I said nothing to Queequeg about Elijah being behind us. Instead, I walked on with my companion, anxious to see whether the stranger would turn the same corner. He did. Then it seemed to me that he was following us, but I could not imagine why. That, together with his vague, mysterious talk, which half hinted and half revealed things, filled me with all kinds of vague questions and fears. They all had to do with the Pequod, Captain Ahab, and the leg he had lost. They concerned the Cape Horn fit, the silver calabash, and what Captain Peleg had said about Ahab when I left the ship the day before. They concerned the prediction of the squaw Tistig, the voyage we had signed up for, and a hundred other shadowy things.

I was resolved to satisfy myself whether this ragged Elijah was really dogging us or not, and with that intent crossed the way with Queequeg, and on that side of it retraced our steps. But Elijah passed on, without seeming to notice us. This relieved me; and once more, and finally as it seemed to me, I pronounced him in my heart, a humbug.

I was determined to find out whether the ragged Elijah was really following us. So Queequeg and I crossed the street and walked back the way we had come. But Elijah walked on without seeming to notice us. I was relieved. Once again, and for the last time, or so I thought, I decided that he was a fraud.