Boarding the Ship

It was nearly six o’clock, but only grey imperfect misty dawn, when we drew nigh the wharf.

It was nearly six o’clock when we approached the wharf, but dawn was still gray and misty, with little light.

“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!”

“Some sailors are running ahead of us, if I see right,” I said to Queequeg. “They can’t be shadows. I guess she’s sailing at sunrise. 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.

“Stop!” cried a voice. Its owner came close behind us and put a hand on each of our shoulders. Then he slipped between us and leaned slightly forward. In the dim twilight, he peered strangely from Queequeg to me. It was Elijah.

“Going aboard?”

“Are you going aboard?”

“Hands off, will you,” said I.

“Hands off, will you,” I said.

“Lookee here,” said Queequeg, shaking himself, “go ’way!”

“Look here,” said Queequeg, shaking himself, “go away!”

“Ain’t going aboard, then?”

“You’re not going aboard, then?”

“Yes, we are,” said I, “but what business is that of yours? Do you know, Mr. Elijah, that I consider you a little impertinent?”

“Yes, we are,” I said, “but what business is that of yours? Mr. Elijah, I think you’re being a little rude.”

“No, no, no; I wasn’t aware of that,” said Elijah, slowly and wonderingly looking from me to Queequeg, with the most unaccountable glances.

“No, no, no. I didn’t know that,” said Elijah. He looked slowly and wonderingly from me to Queequeg, giving us utterly mysterious glances.

“Elijah,” said I, “you will oblige my friend and me by withdrawing. We are going to the Indian and Pacific Oceans, and would prefer not to be detained.”

“Elijah,” I said, “my friend and I would appreciate it if you left us. We are going to the Indian and Pacific Oceans and would prefer not to be delayed.”

“Ye be, be ye? Coming back afore breakfast?”

“You are, are you? Coming back before breakfast?”

“He’s cracked, Queequeg,” said I, “come on.”

“He’s crazy, Queequeg,” I said. “Come on.”

“Holloa!” cried stationary Elijah, hailing us when we had removed a few paces.

“Hello!” Elijah called out to us. He had stayed where he was, and we had walked a few steps away.

“Never mind him,” said I, “Queequeg, come on.”

“Never mind him,” I said. “Queequeg, come on.”

But he stole up to us again, and suddenly clapping his hand on my shoulder, said—“Did ye see anything looking like men going towards that ship a while ago?”

But he crept up to us again and suddenly put his hand on my shoulder. He said, “Did you see anything that looked like men going toward that ship a while ago?”

Struck by this plain matter-of-fact question, I answered, saying, “Yes, I thought I did see four or five men; but it was too dim to be sure.”

Struck by the straightforward question, I answered, “Yes, I thought I saw four or five men, but it was too dark to be sure.”

“Very dim, very dim,” said Elijah. “Morning to ye.”

“Very dim, very dim,” said Elijah. “Good morning to you.”

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?

Once again we left him, but he quietly followed us. He touched my shoulder again and said, “See if you can find them now, will you?

“Find who?”

“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.

“Morning to you! Morning to you!” he replied, starting to walk away again. “Oh! I was going to warn you against something, but never mind, never mind. It’s all the same, all in the family too. Sharp frost this morning, isn’t it? Goodbye to you. I don’t expect to see you again very soon, unless it’s before the Grand Jury.” With these crazy words, he finally left. For a moment, I was astonished by his wild nerve.

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 two chests, his face downwards and inclosed in his folded arms. The profoundest slumber slept upon him.

At last, we stepped aboard the Pequod and found everything completely quiet. Not a soul was moving. The cabin entrance was locked from within. All the hatches were closed and covered with coils of rigging. We went forward to the forecastle and found its sliding hatch open. Seeing a light, we went down and found only an old rigger there, wrapped in a tattered pea jacket. He lay stretched out on two chests, his face down in his folded arms. He was in the deepest sleep.

“Those sailors we saw, Queequeg, where can they have gone to?” said I, looking dubiously at the sleeper. But it seemed that, when on the wharf, Queequeg had not at all noticed what I now alluded to; hence I would have thought myself to have been optically deceived in that matter, were it not for Elijah’s otherwise inexplicable question. But I beat the thing down; and again marking the sleeper, jocularly hinted to Queequeg that perhaps we had best sit up with the body; telling him to establish himself accordingly. He put his hand upon the sleeper’s rear, as though feeling if it was soft enough; and then, without more ado, sat quietly down there.

“Those sailors we saw, Queequeg, where could they have gone?” I asked, looking doubtfully at the sleeper. But apparently Queequeg had not noticed the sailors at all when we were on the wharf. So I would have thought my eyes had deceived me, if not for Elijah’s otherwise inexplicable question. But I pushed the matter aside and looked at the sleeper again. I jokingly suggested to Queequeg that perhaps we had better sit up with the body, and told him to settle himself accordingly. He put his hand on the sleeper’s backside, as if to feel whether it was soft enough. Then, without further ado, he sat down quietly on it.

“Gracious! Queequeg, don’t sit there,” said I.

“Oh, Queequeg, don’t sit there,” I said.

“Oh! perry dood seat,” said Queequeg, “my country way; won’t hurt him face.”

“Oh! A very good seat,” said Queequeg. “It’s the way we do it in my country. It won’t hurt his face.”

“Face!” said I, “call that his face? very benevolent countenance then; but how hard he breathes, he’s heaving himself; get off, Queequeg, you are heavy, it’s grinding the face of the poor. Get off, Queequeg! Look, he’ll twitch you off soon. I wonder he don’t wake.”

“Face!” I said. “You call that his face? Then he has a very kind face. But how hard he’s breathing! He’s heaving. Get off, Queequeg, you’re heavy. You’re grinding the face of the poor. Get off, Queequeg! Look, he’ll twitch you off soon. I’m surprised he doesn’t wake up.”

Queequeg removed himself to just beyond the head of the sleeper, and lighted his tomahawk pipe. I sat at the feet. We kept the pipe passing over the sleeper, from one to the other. Meanwhile, upon questioning him in his broken fashion, Queequeg gave me to understand that, in his land, owing to the absence of settees and sofas of all sorts, the king, chiefs, and great people generally, were in the custom of fattening some of the lower orders for ottomans; and to furnish a house comfortably in that respect, you had only to buy up eight or ten lazy fellows, and lay them round in the piers and alcoves. Besides, it was very convenient on an excursion; much better than those garden-chairs which are convertible into walking-sticks; upon occasion, a chief calling his attendant, and desiring him to make a settee of himself under a spreading tree, perhaps in some damp marshy place.

Queequeg moved just beyond the sleeper’s head and lit his tomahawk pipe. I sat at the sleeper’s feet. We passed the pipe back and forth over him. Meanwhile, I questioned Queequeg, and he explained in his broken English that his people had no couches or sofas of any kind. So the king, chiefs, and other important people in his land used to fatten some lower-ranking people to serve as ottomans. To furnish a house comfortably with ottomans, you only had to buy eight or ten lazy fellows and lay them around the room, against the walls and in alcoves. These human seats were also very convenient on an excursion, much better than garden chairs that convert into walking sticks. When a chief needed a seat, he could call his attendant and ask him to serve as a couch under a spreading tree, perhaps in some damp, marshy place.

While narrating these things, every time Queequeg received the tomahawk from me, he flourished the hatchet-side of it over the sleeper’s head.

As I told these stories, Queequeg waved the blade over the sleeper’s head each time I handed him the tomahawk.

“What’s that for, Queequeg?”

“What’s that for, Queequeg?”

“Perry easy, kill-e; oh! perry easy!”

“Very easy to kill, oh! Very easy!”

He was going on with some wild reminiscences about his tomahawk-pipe, which, it seemed, had in its two uses both brained his foes and soothed his soul, when we were directly attracted to the sleeping rigger. The strong vapor now completely filling the contracted hole, it began to tell upon him. He breathed with a sort of muffledness; then seemed troubled in the nose; then revolved over once or twice; then sat up and rubbed his eyes.

He was still telling wild stories about his tomahawk-pipe. Apparently, he had used it both to smash his enemies’ heads and to soothe his soul. Then the sleeping rigger caught our attention. The strong smoke now completely filled the cramped space, and it began to affect him. His breathing grew muffled. Then his nose seemed bothered, and he rolled over once or twice. Finally, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Holloa!” he breathed at last, “who be ye smokers?”

“Hello!” he breathed at last, “who are you smokers?”

“Shipped men,” answered I, “when does she sail?”

“Signed on as crew,” I answered, “when does she sail?”

“Aye, aye, ye are going in her, be ye? She sails to-day. The Captain came aboard last night.”

“Yes, yes, you’re going on the ship, are you? She sails today. The captain came aboard last night.”

“What Captain?—Ahab?”

“Which captain? Ahab?”

“Who but him indeed?”

“Who else but him?”

I was going to ask him some further questions concerning Ahab, when we heard a noise on deck.

I was going to ask him some more questions about Ahab when we heard a noise on deck.

“Holloa! Starbuck’s astir,” said the rigger. “He’s a lively chief mate, that; good man, and a pious; but all alive now, I must turn to.” And so saying he went on deck, and we followed.

“Hello! Starbuck’s awake,” said the rigger. “He’s a lively chief mate, a good man, and a religious one. But I must hurry and get to work now.” With that, he went on deck, and we followed.

It was now clear sunrise. Soon the crew came on board in twos and threes; the riggers bestirred themselves; the mates were actively engaged; and several of the shore people were busy in bringing various last things on board. Meanwhile Captain Ahab remained invisibly enshrined within his cabin.

The sun had now risen fully. Soon the crew came aboard in twos and threes. The riggers got to work, and the mates were busy. Several people from shore brought the last few things aboard. Meanwhile, Captain Ahab remained hidden away in his cabin, as if enshrined there.