Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

CHAPTER 3. The Spouter-Inn (the Spouter Inn, named after the water a whale blows up out of the sea).

Entering that gable-ended (with an end wall rising to a point under the roof) Spouter-Inn (the Spouter Inn, the house with the whale-spray sign), you found yourself (you were, once you had stepped inside - the chapter speaks straight to you) in a wide, low (with the ceiling close over your head), straggling (spreading away in no clear shape) entry (the hallway just inside the front door) with old-fashioned (in a style long out of use) wainscots (wooden boards fixed along the lower part of a wall), reminding one of (making you think of) the bulwarks (the raised sides round a ship's deck) of some condemned (declared no longer fit to be used) old craft (boat). On one side hung (was hanging) a very large oilpainting (a picture made with colours mixed in oil) so thoroughly (completely) besmoked (turned black by years of smoke), and every way defaced (damaged so the surface is spoiled), that in the unequal crosslights (the uneven light coming in from two sides) by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent (steady and careful) study and a series of systematic (done in an ordered way) visits to it, and careful inquiry (asking) of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at (in any way reach an idea of) an understanding (knowing what it was meant to show) of its purpose. Such unaccountable (that nobody can explain) masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious (reaching for something big) young artist, in the time of the New England hags (the women hanged as witches in New England in the sixteen hundreds), had endeavored (tried) to delineate chaos bewitched (draw a picture of a complete mess under a magic spell). But by dint of (by means of) much and earnest contemplation (serious looking and thinking), and oft repeated ponderings (thinking about it again and again), and especially by throwing open (opening wide) the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted (without good reason behind it).

But what most puzzled and confounded (so puzzled you could not think clearly) you was a long, limber (bending easily), portentous (seeming to warn of something terrible), black mass of something hovering (hanging still in the air) in the centre of the picture over three blue, dim (faint and hard to see), perpendicular (standing straight up) lines floating in a nameless yeast (a white boiling foam nobody could say what it was). A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture (A wet, soft, dripping-looking picture, in words he half invents) truly, enough to drive a nervous man distracted (out of his mind). Yet was there (But there was) a sort of indefinite, half-attained, unimaginable sublimity (a greatness you could feel but could never see clearly or describe) about it that fairly froze you to it (held you there unable to move), till you involuntarily (without meaning to) took an oath (made yourself a serious promise) with yourself to find out what that marvellous painting meant. Ever and anon (Every now and then) a bright, but, alas (sadly), deceptive (that leads a person wrong) idea would dart you through (shoot through you like a thrown spear).—It’s the Black Sea (the Black Sea, a stormy sea between Europe and Asia) in a midnight gale (a storm wind at midnight).—It’s the unnatural (against the order of nature) combat of the four primal elements (earth, water, air and fire, which people once believed everything was made of).—It’s a blasted heath (a bare, empty stretch of wild open country with nothing growing on it, the phrase Shakespeare used for the place where Macbeth met the witches).—It’s a Hyperborean winter scene (a scene from the far frozen north, from an old Greek name for the land beyond the north wind).—It’s the breaking-up of the icebound stream of Time (time as a river locked in ice, and the ice now cracking apart). But at last all these fancies (passing ideas) yielded (gave in and stopped) to that one portentous something in the picture’s midst (the middle of the picture). That once found out (once you had seen what that was), and all the rest were plain (everything else in the picture was then easy to see). But stop (But wait a moment); does it not bear a faint resemblance (look a little like) to a gigantic (very big) fish? even the great leviathan (the great sea beast, the whale) himself?

In fact, the artist’s design (what the painter meant to show) seemed this: a final theory of my own, partly based upon the aggregated opinions (the views of many people added together) of many aged persons with whom I conversed (talked) upon the subject. The picture represents a Cape-Horner (a ship built strong enough to sail round the stormy southern tip of South America) in a great hurricane (a huge sea storm with turning winds); the half-foundered ship (the ship half filled with water and already sinking) weltering (rolling helplessly in the waves) there with its three dismantled masts (tall poles stripped of their sails and ropes) alone visible; and an exasperated (driven wild with anger) whale, purposing (trying) to spring clean over the craft (jump right across the boat), is in the enormous act of impaling himself (driving himself down onto the points) upon the three mast-heads (the tops of the three tall poles).

The opposite wall of this entry (this hallway inside the front door) was hung all over (had hanging all over it) with a heathenish array (a display of things from peoples outside the Christian world) of monstrous clubs and spears (huge heavy sticks and pointed weapons). Some were thickly set (closely covered) with glittering (shining with small flashes) teeth resembling ivory saws (cutting blades of hard white animal tooth, with points along the edge); others were tufted with knots (decorated with tied bunches) of human hair; and one was sickle-shaped (curved like the hooked blade used for cutting grain by hand), with a vast handle (a huge grip) sweeping round (curving round in one long line) like the segment made in the new-mown grass (the curved sweep cut into grass just now laid flat) by a long-armed mower (a man with long arms cutting grass by hand). You shuddered (You shook with a cold fear) as you gazed (looked long and hard), and wondered what monstrous cannibal (a person who eats human flesh) and savage (a man from a people outside Europe, in the insulting word Europeans of that time used) could ever have gone a death-harvesting (gone out cutting men down the way a farmer cuts corn) with such a hacking (for cutting in rough blows), horrifying implement (tool). Mixed with these were rusty (eaten by the brown crust old iron gets) old whaling lances (long spears used to finish a whale once it is struck) and harpoons (the throwing weapons with a hook near the point) all broken and deformed (twisted out of shape). Some were storied weapons (weapons with a tale attached to them). With this once long lance (a long weapon with a sharp point, for killing a whale already struck), now wildly elbowed (bent out of line at sharp angles), fifty years ago did Nathan Swain (Nathan Swain, a whale hunter of fifty years before) kill fifteen whales between a sunrise and a sunset. And that harpoon (a throwing spear with a hook near the point)—so like a corkscrew (the twisted metal spiral used to pull a stopper out of a bottle) now—was flung (thrown hard) in Javan seas (in the waters round Java, an island in the east), and run away with (dragged off) by a whale, years afterwards slain (killed) off the Cape of Blanco (Cape Blanco, a point of land reaching out into the sea off Africa). The original iron (The first spear head) entered nigh the tail (near the back end of the animal), and, like a restless needle sojourning in the body of a man (a needle that will not stay still, staying a while inside a man's body), travelled full forty feet (a whole forty feet, about twelve metres), and at last was found imbedded (fixed deep inside) in the hump (the raised lump on its back).

Crossing this dusky entry (this dark hallway inside the front door), and on through yon low-arched way (that low curved passage over there)—cut through what in old times must have been a great central chimney (the big brick tower inside the house that carries the smoke up to the roof) with fireplaces (openings in the wall where a fire is lit) all round—you enter the public room (the room in an inn where anyone may sit and drink). A still duskier place is this (this place is even darker than the one before), with such low ponderous beams (heavy wooden bars across the ceiling) above, and such old wrinkled (covered in small lines and grooves from age) planks (long flat boards of wood) beneath, that you would almost fancy (you could almost imagine) you trod (you were walking on) some old craft’s (belonging to a boat) cockpits (the low spaces below a ship's deck where the wounded were carried), especially of such a howling (with the wind crying long and loud) night, when this corner-anchored old ark (the old building, standing fixed on its street corner like a ship held by the heavy iron hook it drops to the sea bed) rocked so furiously (with great violence). On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like table covered with cracked (split with thin lines) glass cases, filled with dusty rarities (strange old objects covered in dust) gathered from this wide world’s remotest nooks (furthest hidden corners). Projecting from (Sticking out from) the further angle (the far corner) of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude attempt (a rough try) at a right whale’s head (the head of a kind of whale the hunters named that because it was the right one to catch). Be that how it may (Whatever the truth of that may be), there stands the vast arched bone (the huge curved mouth-bone) of the whale’s jaw (where a whale's teeth sit), so wide, a coach (a closed carriage pulled by horses) might almost drive beneath it. Within (Inside the jaw) are shabby (worn and poor-looking) shelves, ranged round with old decanters (glass bottles that drink is poured into for serving), bottles, flasks (flat bottles for carrying drink); and in those jaws of swift destruction (a mouth that kills quickly), like another cursed Jonah (like a second Jonah, the man in the Bible swallowed by a great fish) (by which name indeed they called him), bustles (moves quickly about his work) a little withered (dried and shrunk with age) old man, who, for their money, dearly (at a high price) sells the sailors deliriums (wild states of mind, which is what the drink he sells brings on) and death.

Abominable (Hateful) are the tumblers (the flat-bottomed drinking glasses) into which he pours his poison. Though true cylinders without (straight round tubes on the outside)—within (on the inside), the villanous (wicked) green goggling (staring wide like a pair of eyes) glasses deceitfully tapered downwards (narrowing towards the bottom to trick you) to a cheating bottom (a base that holds less than it looks). Parallel meridians (Level lines running round, like the rings drawn round a globe) rudely pecked into the glass (roughly scratched into the glass), surround these footpads’ goblets (these robbers' cups, the robber being the man who pours the drink). Fill to this mark, and your charge is but a penny (costs only a penny); to this a penny more; and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure (the biggest measure, named after Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America, the hardest sailing there is), which you may gulp down (swallow fast) for a shilling (a coin worth twelve of those small ones).

Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen (men who work on ships) gathered about a table, examining by a dim light (a weak, faint light) divers specimens (several examples) of skrimshander (pictures cut by sailors into whale bone or tooth to pass the time). I sought (went looking for) the landlord (the man who owns the inn and rents out its beds), and telling him I desired to be accommodated with (wanted to be given) a room, received for answer (was told in reply) that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied (empty). “But avast (But wait a moment, a sailor's word for stop. From here the landlord's speech is written the way he says it, with words cut short and spelled wrong on purpose.),” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no objections (have no objection) to sharing a harpooneer’s (belonging to the man who throws the hooked spear into the whale) blanket, have ye (have you)? I s’pose you are goin’ a-whalin’ (I suppose you are going off to hunt whales), so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”

I told him that I never liked to sleep two in a bed; that if I should ever do so, it would depend upon who the harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) might be, and that if he (the landlord) really had no other place for me, and the harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) was not decidedly objectionable (clearly a man you would not want beside you), why rather than wander further (well then, sooner than walk about any more) about a strange town on so bitter a night (a night as bitingly cold as this), I would put up with (accept without complaining) the half of any decent (ordinary and well-behaved) man’s blanket.

“I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper?—you want supper? Supper’ll (Supper will) be ready directly (very soon).”

I sat down on an old wooden settle (a long wooden seat with a high back), carved (cut into shape with a blade) all over like a bench on the Battery (the open ground at the southern tip of the island of Manhattan). At one end a ruminating tar (a sailor deep in his own thoughts, called by an old word for a man of the sea) was still further adorning (decorating) it with his jack-knife (his folding pocket knife), stooping (bending forward) over and diligently (steadily and with care) working away at (working hard on) the space between his legs. He was trying his hand at (seeing whether he could make) a ship under full sail (with every piece of cloth spread to the wind), but he didn’t make much headway (get very far with it. The word is also the sailors' word for a ship pushing forward through water, and he is carving a ship.), I thought.

At last some four or five of us were summoned (called) to our meal in an adjoining room (a room next door). It was cold as (as cold as) Iceland (Iceland, an island in the frozen north)—no fire at all—the landlord said he couldn’t afford it. Nothing but two dismal (dark and sad) tallow candles (cheap candles made from animal fat), each in a winding sheet (the cloth a dead body is wrapped in. Here it means the melted wax running down and setting round each candle.). We were fain to (We were glad to) button up our monkey jackets (short thick coats sailors wore), and hold to our lips cups of scalding (hot enough to burn) tea with our half frozen fingers. But the fare (the food) was of the most substantial (solid and filling) kind—not only meat and potatoes, but dumplings (balls of boiled dough eaten with meat); good heavens (a cry of surprise)! dumplings (balls of boiled dough eaten with meat) for supper! One young fellow in a green box coat (a heavy green coat with a wide cape over the shoulders), addressed himself to (began eating) these dumplings in a most direful (frightening to watch) manner.

“My boy (a friendly way an older man speaks to a younger one, not his son),” said the landlord, “you’ll have the nightmare (a bad dream that frightens you awake) to a dead sartainty (for absolute certain).”

“Landlord,” I whispered, “that aint the harpooneer is it (that is not the spear man, is it)?”

“Oh, no,” said he, looking a sort of diabolically funny (amused in a wicked way), “the harpooneer (the spear man) is a dark complexioned chap (a man with dark skin). He never eats dumplings (those boiled balls of dough), he don’t (he does not)—he eats nothing but steaks, and he likes ’em rare (he likes them barely cooked, still red inside).”

“The devil he does (Does he indeed! a cry of surprise that calls on the evil one),” says I. “Where is that harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale)? Is he here?”

“He’ll be here afore long (soon),” was the answer.

I could not help it (I could not stop myself), but I began to feel suspicious (uneasy, ready to think the worst) of this “dark complexioned (with dark skin)” harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale). At any rate (Anyway), I made up my mind (decided) that if it so turned out (if it happened) that we should sleep together (share the same bed for the night), he must undress and get into bed before I did.

Supper over, the company (the people there) went back to the bar-room, when, knowing not what else (not knowing what else) to do with myself, I resolved (decided firmly) to spend the rest of the evening as a looker on (someone who only watches).

Presently (Soon after) a rioting noise (a wild uproar) was heard without (outside). Starting up (jumping to his feet), the landlord cried (shouted out), “That’s the Grampus’s crew (the men off the Grampus, a whaling ship named after a big sea animal of the dolphin kind). I seed her reported in the offing (I saw her signalled from the shore while she was still out on the water) this morning; a three years’ voyage, and a full ship (a ship with her barrels full of oil, the hunt a success). Hurrah (a shout of joy), boys; now we’ll have the latest news from the Feegees (the Fiji islands, far out in the Pacific).”

A tramping (A heavy stamping of feet) of sea boots was heard in the entry (the small passage just inside the front door); the door was flung (thrown wide) open, and in rolled a wild set of mariners (in came a lot of sailors, wild enough ones too) enough. Enveloped (Wrapped up) in their shaggy watch coats (rough hairy coats worn on deck at night), and with their heads muffled (wrapped up thickly) in woollen comforters (long wool scarves wound round the neck), all bedarned and ragged (mended over and over, and still torn), and their beards stiff (frozen hard) with icicles (hanging spikes of ice), they seemed an eruption of bears from Labrador (a sudden burst of bears out of the frozen north of Canada). They had just landed from their boat, and this was the first house they entered. No wonder, then, that they made a straight wake for (went straight towards, the way a ship drives a line through water) the whale’s mouth—the bar—when the wrinkled (creased and folded) little old Jonah, there officiating (serving behind it), soon poured them out brimmers all round (glasses filled to the very top, one for each man). One complained of a bad cold in his head, upon which Jonah mixed him a pitch-like potion (a drink as black and thick as tar) of gin and molasses (strong clear spirit mixed with thick dark sugar syrup), which he swore (promised firmly) was a sovereign cure (a cure that never fails) for all colds and catarrhs (heavy colds with a blocked and running nose) whatsoever (of any kind at all), never mind of how long standing (how long a person has had it), or whether caught off the coast of Labrador (Labrador, the cold northern coast of Canada), or on the weather side (the side the wind strikes) of an ice-island (a floating mountain of ice).

The liquor soon mounted into their heads (The drink soon made them drunk), as it generally does even with the arrantest topers (the very worst heavy drinkers) newly landed from sea, and they began capering about most obstreperously (jumping about in a loud, unruly way).

I observed, however, that one of them held somewhat aloof (kept a little apart from the others), and though he seemed desirous (wanting) not to spoil the hilarity (the loud laughing and fun) of his shipmates (the men who sail with him) by his own sober (not drunk) face, yet upon the whole (taking it all together) he refrained (stopped himself) from making as much noise as the rest. This man interested me at once (straight away); and since the sea-gods had ordained (the powers of the sea had settled it beforehand) that he should soon become my shipmate (a man sailing on the same ship) (though but (though only) a sleeping-partner one (a shipmate in name only. In business a sleeping partner puts in money but does no work.), so far as this narrative (this account of what happened) is concerned), I will here venture upon (risk giving) a little description of him. He stood full six feet in height (a good six feet tall, about one metre eighty), with noble (broad and fine) shoulders, and a chest like a coffer-dam (a chest as broad and solid as the wall built to hold water back from a building site). I have seldom (not often) seen such brawn (such heavy muscle) in a man. His face was deeply brown and burnt (darkened by the sun), making his white teeth dazzling (so bright it hurt the eyes) by the contrast; while in the deep shadows of his eyes floated some reminiscences (memories of things past) that did not seem to give him much joy. His voice at once announced that he was a Southerner (a man from the southern states of America), and from his fine stature (his fine height and build), I thought he must be one of those tall mountaineers (people who live in the mountains) from the Alleghanian Ridge in Virginia (a line of mountains running through the state of Virginia). When the revelry (the wild drinking and noise) of his companions had mounted to its height (was at its loudest and wildest), this man slipped away unobserved (without being seen), and I saw no more of him till he became my comrade (my companion) on the sea. In a few minutes, however, he was missed by his shipmates, and being, it seems, for some reason a huge favourite with them, they raised a cry of “Bulkington (Bulkington, the quiet tall sailor just described)! Bulkington! where’s Bulkington?” and darted (went quickly) out of the house in pursuit of him (chasing after him).

It was now about nine o’clock, and the room seeming almost supernaturally (beyond anything natural) quiet after these orgies (this wild drinking), I began to congratulate myself upon (feel pleased with myself about) a little plan that had occurred to me just previous to (just before) the entrance of the seamen (sailors).

No man prefers to sleep two in a bed (nobody wants two people in one bed - the story stops here and he argues his case in his own words). In fact, you would a good deal rather (much more willingly) not sleep with your own brother (share a bed with your own brother). I don’t know how it is (I do not know why), but people like to be private when they are sleeping. And when it comes to sleeping with an unknown stranger, in a strange inn, in a strange town, and that stranger a harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), then your objections indefinitely multiply (grow past counting). Nor was there any earthly reason (And there was no reason at all) why I as a sailor should sleep two in a bed, more than anybody else; for sailors no more sleep (because sailors sleep two in a bed at sea just as little as unmarried kings do on land) two in a bed at sea, than bachelor Kings (unmarried kings) do ashore (on land). To be sure (It is true that) they all sleep together in one apartment (one room), but you have your own hammock (your own hanging bed of cloth, tied up at both ends), and cover yourself with your own blanket, and sleep in your own skin (your body is your own, and nobody is touching you).

The more I pondered over (thought hard about) this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), the more I abominated (hated) the thought of sleeping with him (sharing a bed with him). It was fair to presume (It was reasonable to suppose) that being a harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), his linen or woollen (the cloth of his shirts, whether thin plant cloth or wool), as the case might be (whichever it was), would not be of the tidiest (among the cleanest), certainly none of the finest. I began to twitch (jerk with small sudden movements) all over. Besides, it was getting late, and my decent (of good enough character) harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) ought to be home and going bedwards (heading for bed). Suppose now, he should tumble in upon me (fall into the bed on top of me) at midnight—how could I tell from what vile hole (what filthy low place) he had been coming?

“Landlord! I’ve changed my mind about that harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale).—I shan’t (I will not) sleep with him. I’ll try the bench here.”

“Just as you please (Do as you like); I’m sorry I can’t spare ye (let you have) a tablecloth (a cloth spread over a table for a meal) for a mattress (the padded layer a person lies on in bed), and it’s a plaguy rough board (an annoyingly rough plank) here”—feeling of (running his hand over) the knots and notches (hard round lumps in the wood and cut grooves). “But wait a bit, Skrimshander (the landlord's joking name for the man he is speaking to, from the word for pictures sailors cut into whale bone); I’ve got a carpenter’s plane (a tool with a blade set in a block, pushed along wood to shave it smooth) there in the bar—wait, I say, and I’ll make ye snug (warm and comfortable) enough.” So saying (As he said this) he procured (fetched) the plane; and with his old silk handkerchief first dusting the bench, vigorously (with great energy) set to planing away at (began hard work shaving smooth) my bed, the while grinning like an ape (smiling widely all the time, like a monkey). The shavings (The thin curls of wood the blade takes away) flew right and left; till at last the plane-iron (the blade set in that tool) came bump against an indestructible (impossible to break) knot (a hard round place in the wood where a branch once grew). The landlord was near spraining (almost hurting) his wrist, and I told him for heaven’s sake (please, I beg you) to quit (stop)—the bed was soft enough to suit me, and I did not know how all the planing in the world (no amount of shaving the wood) could make eider down (the soft under-feathers of a sea duck, used to fill the finest beds) of a pine plank (a board of soft cheap wood). So gathering up the shavings with another grin (wide smile showing the teeth), and throwing them into the great stove in the middle of the room, he went about his business (left me and returned to his own work), and left me in a brown study (deep in gloomy thought).

I now took the measure of (measured) the bench, and found that it was a foot too short (short by a foot, about a third of a metre); but that could be mended (fixed) with a chair. But it was a foot too narrow, and the other bench in the room was about four inches (about the width of a hand) higher than the planed one (the bench he had shaved smooth)—so there was no yoking them (no joining them into one, the way two farm animals are joined to pull together). I then placed the first bench lengthwise (along its long way) along the only clear space against the wall, leaving a little interval (a small gap) between, for my back to settle down in. But I soon found that there came such a draught (a flow of air) of cold air over me from under the sill (the flat ledge at the bottom of a window) of the window, that this plan would never do at all (would not work at all), especially as another current from the rickety (loose and shaky) door met the one from the window, and both together formed a series of small whirlwinds (small spinning winds) in the immediate vicinity (the space right around) of the spot where I had thought to spend the night.

The devil fetch that harpooneer (Curse that spear man. An angry thing to say when annoyed, not a real wish.), thought I (I thought), but stop (but wait a moment), couldn’t I steal a march on him (reach the bed before him, without him knowing)—bolt his door (lock his door with a sliding bar) inside, and jump into his bed, not to be wakened (woken) by the most violent knockings (blows on the door)? It seemed no bad idea; but upon second thoughts (after thinking again) I dismissed it (put the idea away). For who could tell but what (who knew whether) the next morning, so soon as I popped out (stepped quickly out) of the room, the harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) might be standing in the entry (the passage inside the front door), all ready to knock me down (hit me to the ground)!

Still (Even so), looking round me again, and seeing no possible chance of spending a sufferable night (a night a person could bear) unless in some other person’s bed, I began to think that after all I might be cherishing unwarrantable prejudices (keeping unfair bad opinions about him) against this unknown harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale). Thinks I (I thought), I’ll wait awhile (for a while); he must be dropping in (arriving) before long (soon). I’ll have a good look at him then, and perhaps we may become jolly good bedfellows (men quite happy to share a bed) after all—there’s no telling (nobody can say).

But though the other boarders (the other people paying to sleep and eat there) kept coming in by ones, twos, and threes (singly and in small groups), and going to bed, yet no sign of my harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale).

“Landlord!” said I, “what sort of a chap (what kind of a fellow) is he—does he always keep such late hours (stay out so late at night)?” It was now hard upon twelve o’clock (nearly midnight).

The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle (his thin, quiet laugh), and seemed to be mightily tickled (greatly amused) at something beyond my comprehension (that I could not understand). “No,” he answered, “generally he’s an early bird—airley to bed and airley to rise (early to bed and early up in the morning, a common old saying)—yes, he’s the bird what catches the worm (the old saying is that the early bird catches the worm, meaning the one who starts first wins). But to-night he went out a peddling (out selling goods from door to door), you see, and I don’t see what on airth keeps him (I really cannot think what keeps him. The extra words only make the question stronger.) so late, unless, may be, he can’t sell his head (The man telling the story hears this as the spear man's own head. The landlord means something else, and does not say what.).”

“Can’t sell his head?—What sort of a bamboozingly (invented to fool a person) story is this you are telling me?” getting into a towering rage (a huge anger). “Do you pretend to say (Do you claim), landlord, that this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) is actually engaged (is actually busy) this blessed Saturday night (this very Saturday night), or rather Sunday morning, in peddling (going from door to door selling) his head around this town?”

“That’s precisely it (That is exactly right),” said the landlord, “and I told him he couldn’t sell it here, the market’s overstocked (there are more of them for sale than anyone wants to buy).”

“With what?” shouted I.

“With heads to be sure (of course); ain’t there (are there not) too many heads in the world?”

“I tell you what it is (let me speak plainly), landlord,” said I quite calmly (in a quiet, steady voice), “you’d better stop spinning that yarn (telling that made-up tale) to me—I’m not green (I am not so new and simple as to believe it).”

“May be not,” taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick (cutting a small stick down with a knife to pick his teeth with), “but I rayther guess (I think) you’ll be done brown (you will be in real trouble. The words play on meat cooked brown over a fire.) if that ere (that) harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) hears you a slanderin’ (saying bad things about) his head.”

“I’ll break it for him (I will smash his head),” said I, now flying into a passion (losing my temper suddenly) again at this unaccountable farrago (this mess of nonsense nobody could explain) of the landlord’s.

“It’s broke a’ready (already),” said he.

“Broke,” said I—“broke, do you mean?”

“Sartain (Certainly), and that’s the very reason he can’t sell it, I guess.”

“Landlord,” said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a snow-storm (perfectly calm. Hecla is a burning mountain in Iceland, so the joke is that he is anything but cool inside.)—“landlord, stop whittling (cutting little pieces off a stick with a knife). You and I must understand one another, and that too without delay (right now). I come to your house and want a bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half belongs to a certain harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale). And about this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), whom I have not yet seen, you persist in telling (keep on telling) me the most mystifying and exasperating (puzzling and maddening) stories tending to beget in me (likely to make me feel) an uncomfortable feeling towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow (whom you intend to put in my bed)—a sort of connexion (a kind of tie between two people), landlord, which is an intimate (very close) and confidential (where each trusts the other with private things) one in the highest degree (as much as it is possible to be). I now demand of you (I now insist that you) to speak out and tell me who and what this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe (safe in every way) to spend the night with him. And in the first place (first of all), you will be so good as to unsay (please say now that the story is not true) that story about selling his head, which if true I take to be (I consider to be) good evidence that this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) is stark mad (completely mad), and I’ve no idea of (I have no intention of) sleeping with (sharing a bed with) a madman (a man whose mind is not right); and you, sir, you I mean, landlord, you, sir, by trying to induce me (get me) to do so knowingly (while knowing what you were doing), would thereby render yourself liable to (by doing that you could be punished with) a criminal prosecution (being taken to court and charged with a crime).”

“Wall (Well),” said the landlord, fetching a long breath (taking a long breath), “that’s a purty long sarmon (a pretty long speech about right and wrong, of the kind a priest gives in church) for a chap that rips a little (a man who uses rough, angry words sometimes) now and then (sometimes). But be easy (calm down), be easy, this here harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) I have been tellin (telling)’ you of has just arrived from the south seas (the southern part of the Pacific ocean), where he bought up (bought the whole stock of) a lot of ’balmed New Zealand heads (preserved human heads from New Zealand, treated so they would not rot) (great curios (rare strange objects people collected), you know), and he’s sold all on ’em (all of them) but one, and that one he’s trying to sell to-night, cause to-morrow’s Sunday (because tomorrow is Sunday), and it would not do (it would not be right) to be sellin (selling)’ human heads about the streets when folks is goin’ to churches (people are going to church). He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped him just as he was goin’ out of the door with four heads strung (threaded together) on a string, for all the airth like (looking exactly like) a string of inions (a string of onions, hung up the way they were sold).”

This account cleared up (explained) the otherwise unaccountable (that nothing could explain) mystery, and showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling me (had never meant to trick me)—but at the same time what could I think of a harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) who stayed out of a Saturday night (was still out of the house on a Saturday night) clean into (all the way into) the holy Sabbath (Sunday, the Christian day of rest), engaged in (busy with) such a cannibal business (such savage work, the kind you would expect of a people-eating tribe) as selling the heads of dead idolators (dead people who had worshipped carved images, as Christians of that day called them)?

“Depend upon it (You can be sure of this), landlord, that harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) is a dangerous man.”

“He pays reg’lar (He pays on time),” was the rejoinder (the reply). “But come (But enough talk now), it’s getting dreadful (very) late, you had better be turning flukes (going to bed. A whale's two tail fins are called that, and it shows them as it goes down.)—it’s a nice bed; Sal (Sal, the landlord's wife) and me slept in that ere bed (that bed there) the night we were spliced (the night we were married. The word means joining two rope ends into one.). There’s plenty of room for two to kick about (move around freely) in that bed; it’s an almighty big bed (an enormous bed) that. Why, (here just a way of starting to speak, like well) afore we give it up (before we stopped using it), Sal used to put our Sam (Sam, one of their children) and little Johnny (Johnny, the other child) in the foot of it (the bottom end of the bed). But I got a dreaming (seeing things in my sleep) and sprawling about (spreading my arms and legs out wide) one night, and somehow, Sam got pitched (was thrown) on the floor, and came near breaking (almost broke) his arm. Arter (After) that, Sal said it wouldn’t do (that could not go on). Come along (Come with me) here, I’ll give ye (you) a glim in a jiffy (a light in a moment);” and so saying he lighted a candle and held it towards me, offering to lead the way. But I stood irresolute (unable to decide); when looking at a clock in the corner, he exclaimed (cried out) “I vum (I swear) it’s Sunday—you won’t see that harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) to-night; he’s come to anchor somewhere (he has settled somewhere for the night, the way a ship drops its heavy iron hook to hold it still)—come along then; do come; won’t ye come?”

I considered the matter a moment, and then up stairs we went, and I was ushered (shown in) into a small room, cold as a clam (as cold as a shellfish out of the sea), and furnished, sure enough (just as he had said), with a prodigious bed (an enormous bed), almost big enough indeed for any four harpooneers (men who throw the barbed spear into the whale) to sleep abreast (side by side in a row).

“There,” said the landlord, placing the candle on a crazy old sea chest (a battered old sailor's box, loose in all its joints) that did double duty (served as two things together) as a wash-stand (a stand holding a bowl and jug for washing) and centre table; “there, make yourself comfortable now, and good night to ye.” I turned round from eyeing (looking hard at) the bed, but he had disappeared.

Folding back the counterpane (the top cover of a bed), I stooped (bent down) over the bed. Though none of the most elegant (not one of the fine ones), it yet stood the scrutiny tolerably well (looked good enough when I studied it closely). I then glanced round the room; and besides the bedstead (the wooden frame of the bed) and centre table, could see no other furniture belonging to the place, but a rude shelf (a roughly made shelf), the four walls, and a papered fireboard (a board covered in paper, set across an unused fireplace to block it) representing (with a picture on it showing) a man striking a whale. Of things not properly belonging to the room, there was a hammock lashed up (a hanging cloth bed rolled and tied with cord), and thrown upon the floor in one corner; also a large seaman’s bag (a big canvas bag of the kind a sailor keeps everything in), containing the harpooneer’s wardrobe (the spear man's clothes), no doubt in lieu of (a French phrase meaning in place of) a land trunk (the large travelling box people used on shore). Likewise (also), there was a parcel of (a number of) outlandish bone fish hooks (strange foreign-looking bent points for catching fish, carved out of bone) on the shelf over the fire-place, and a tall harpoon (a long throwing spear with a hook near the point) standing at the head of the bed.

But what is this on the chest (the big box for keeping things in)? I took it up (picked it up), and held it close to the light, and felt it, and smelt (smelled) it, and tried every way possible to arrive at (reach) some satisfactory (good enough to settle it) conclusion concerning it. I can compare it to nothing but a large door mat (a thick rough mat laid at a door for wiping feet), ornamented (decorated) at the edges with little tinkling tags (small hanging pieces that ring lightly against each other) something like the stained (coloured right through with a dye) porcupine quills (the long sharp spines of an animal covered in them) round an Indian moccasin (a soft leather shoe of the native peoples of America). There was a hole or slit (a long narrow cut) in the middle of this mat (thick rough floor covering), as you see the same in South American ponchos (square cloaks with a slit in the middle for the head, worn in South America). But could it be possible that any sober (thinking clearly and not mad) harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) would get into (dress himself in) a door mat (thick rough floor covering), and parade the streets (walk about the streets for all to see) of any Christian town in that sort of guise (outfit)? I put it on, to try it, and it weighed me down like a hamper (like a big heavy basket with a lid), being uncommonly shaggy (unusually rough and hairy) and thick, and I thought a little damp, as though this mysterious harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) had been wearing it of a rainy day (on a rainy day). I went up in it (I walked over still wearing it) to a bit of glass (a small mirror) stuck against the wall, and I never saw such a sight in my life. I tore myself out of it in such a hurry that I gave myself a kink in the neck (a painful twist in the neck).

I sat down on the side of the bed, and commenced (began) thinking about this head-peddling (going about selling heads) harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), and his door mat (thick rough floor covering). After thinking some time on the bed-side, I got up and took off (removed from my body) my monkey jacket (a short thick jacket of the kind sailors wear), and then stood in the middle of the room thinking. I then took off my coat, and thought a little more in my shirt sleeves (with my coat off). But beginning to feel very cold now, half undressed as I was (with some of my clothes already off), and remembering what the landlord said about the harpooneer’s not coming home at all that night, it being so very late, I made no more ado (wasted no more time), but jumped out of my pantaloons (my trousers) and boots, and then blowing out the light (blowing the candle out) tumbled into bed, and commended myself to the care of heaven (asked God to keep me safe).

Whether that mattress (the soft thick pad you lie on in a bed) was stuffed with corn-cobs (the hard woody middle part of a corn plant's seed head, left after the yellow seeds have been taken away) or broken crockery (smashed bits of clay plates and cups), there is no telling (there is no way to know), but I rolled about (kept turning from side to side) a good deal (a lot), and could not sleep for a long time. At last I slid (slipped) off into a light doze (a shallow sleep), and had pretty nearly (almost) made a good offing towards the land of Nod (well out on the open water on the way to sleep. Sailors use the word for the sea just off a coast, and the land of Nod is an old joking name for sleep.), when I heard a heavy footfall (a heavy step) in the passage (in the corridor outside the room), and saw a glimmer (a faint shine) of light come into the room from under the door.

Lord save me (a cry of fright), thinks I (I thought to myself), that must be the harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), the infernal (here just a word of fear and dislike, like horrible) head-peddler (a man who goes from door to door selling heads). But I lay perfectly still, and resolved (decided firmly) not to say a word till spoken to. Holding a light in one hand, and that identical (very same) New Zealand head in the other, the stranger entered the room, and without looking (and did not look) towards the bed, placed his candle a good way off (far away) from me on the floor in one corner, and then began working away (working steadily) at the knotted cords (the tied ropes) of the large bag I before spoke of (that I mentioned earlier) as being in the room. I was all eagerness to see his face, but he kept it averted (turned away) for some time while employed (busy) in unlacing (undoing the cords of) the bag’s mouth. This accomplished (When this was done), however, he turned round—when, good heavens (a cry of shock)! what a sight! Such a face! It was of a dark, purplish (of a dull colour between red and blue), yellow colour, here and there stuck over with (covered here and there, as if the squares had been fixed on) large blackish (nearly black) looking squares. Yes, it’s just as I thought, he’s a terrible bedfellow (a person you share a bed with); he’s been in a fight, got dreadfully (very badly) cut, and here he is, just from the surgeon (just come from the doctor who treats cuts). But at that moment he chanced to (happened to) turn his face so towards the light, that I plainly (clearly) saw they could not be sticking-plasters (strips of cloth stuck on the skin to cover a cut) at all, those black squares on his cheeks. They were stains (marks soaked into a surface) of some sort or other. At first I knew not what to make of this (did not know what to think of this); but soon an inkling of the truth (a first faint idea of what was really going on) occurred to me. I remembered a story of a white man—a whaleman (a man whose trade is hunting the great sea beasts) too—who, falling among (ending up among) the cannibals (people who eat human flesh), had been tattooed (marked for life with patterns pricked into the skin in colour) by them. I concluded that this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale), in the course of (during) his distant voyages, must have met with a similar adventure. And what is it, thought I, after all (when you think about it)! It’s only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin. But then, what to make of (how am I to explain) his unearthly complexion (the strange colour of his skin, like nothing of this world), that part of it, I mean, lying round about (the skin around the coloured patches), and completely independent of the squares of tattooing (patterns pricked into the skin in colour). To be sure (It is true that), it might be nothing but a good coat of tropical tanning (a thick layer of browning from the sun of the hot countries); but I never heard of a hot sun’s tanning (a hot sun making a man's skin darker) a white man into a purplish (a bit purple - a dull red-blue) yellow one. However, I had never been in the South Seas (the southern part of the Pacific ocean); and perhaps the sun there produced (caused) these extraordinary effects upon the skin. Now, while all these ideas were passing through me like lightning, this harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) never noticed me at all. But, after some difficulty having opened his bag, he commenced (started) fumbling (feeling about without seeing) in it, and presently (a moment later) pulled out a sort of tomahawk (a light axe of the native peoples of America), and a seal-skin wallet (a flat bag made from the hide of a sea animal) with the hair on (with the animal's fur still left on it). Placing these on the old chest (the big wooden box for keeping things in) in the middle of the room, he then took the New Zealand head—a ghastly thing (a horrible thing to look at) enough—and crammed it down (pushed it hard down) into the bag. He now took off his hat—a new beaver hat (a tall hat made from the fur of a water animal)—when I came nigh singing out (almost shouted out loud) with fresh surprise. There was no hair on his head—none to speak of (none worth mentioning) at least—nothing but a small scalp-knot (a small twist of hair left growing on an otherwise shaved head) twisted up on his forehead. His bald purplish head now looked for all the world like (exactly like) a mildewed skull (a head bone gone spotted with grey mould). Had not the stranger stood (If the stranger had not been standing) between me and the door, I would have bolted out of it (run out through it) quicker than ever I bolted a dinner (swallowed a meal fast. The same word is used twice in two senses for the joke.).

Even as it was (Even so), I thought something of (half thought about) slipping out of the window, but it was the second floor back (the back room one flight up from the ground). I am no coward (a man afraid to face danger), but what to make of (how to understand) this head-peddling (going from door to door selling) purple rascal (a bad, tricky fellow) altogether passed my comprehension (was beyond anything I could understand). Ignorance is the parent of fear (Not knowing is what gives birth to fear), and being completely nonplussed (stopped dead, with no idea what to do) and confounded (left completely puzzled) about the stranger, I confess (admit) I was now as much afraid of him as if it was the devil (the evil one of Christian belief) himself who had thus broken into my room at the dead of night (in the middle of the night). In fact, I was so afraid of him that I was not game enough (not brave enough) just then to address him, and demand a satisfactory (good enough to settle the matter) answer concerning what seemed inexplicable (impossible to explain) in him.

Meanwhile, he continued the business of undressing (taking his clothes off), and at last showed his chest and arms. As I live (a cry of surprise, as if to say, I swear on my own life), these covered parts of him were checkered (marked all over in squares) with the same squares as his face; his back, too, was all over the same dark squares; he seemed to have been in a Thirty Years’ War (a war in Europe that went on for thirty years. He means a man covered all over with wounds.), and just escaped from it with a sticking-plaster shirt (a shirt made of nothing but the cloth strips put over cuts). Still more, his very legs were marked, as if a parcel of (a group of) dark green frogs were running up the trunks (the stems of trees) of young palms (young palm trees). It was now quite plain that he must be some abominable (hateful) savage (a man from a people he thinks wild and without laws) or other shipped aboard of a whaleman (put to work as one of the crew of a ship that hunts the great sea beasts) in the South Seas (the southern part of the Pacific ocean), and so landed in this Christian country. I quaked (I shook with fear) to think of it. A peddler (a man who sells from door to door) of heads too—perhaps the heads of his own brothers. He might take a fancy to (suddenly want) mine—heavens (a cry of alarm)! look at that tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe)!

But there was no time for shuddering (shaking with fear), for now (because just then) the savage (a man I believe has no schooling, no church and no laws; this is how white Americans in those times talked about people from far-off places) went about (started doing) something that completely fascinated (held) my attention, and convinced me that he must indeed be a heathen (a person who worships gods other than the Christian one; this is what Christians in those times called such people). Going to his heavy grego (his thick sailor's outer coat with a hood), or wrapall, or dreadnaught (two more names sailors used for the same thing), which he had previously hung (had put there earlier) on a chair, he fumbled (searched with his fingers without seeing) in the pockets, and produced (took out of the pocket) at length (at last) a curious (odd) little deformed (twisted out of shape) image (a small carved figure) with a hunch (a raised lump) on its back, and exactly the colour of a three days’ old Congo baby (a newborn child of central Africa, in the words a white American of that day would use). Remembering the embalmed head (the human head treated so it would not rot), at first I almost thought that this black manikin (this little black figure of a person) was a real baby preserved in some similar manner. But seeing that it was not at all limber (soft and bending), and that it glistened (shone with a wet light) a good deal (very much) like polished ebony (a hard black wood rubbed until it shines), I concluded that it must be nothing but a wooden idol (a carved wooden figure worshipped as a god), which indeed it proved to be. For now (because at that moment) the savage goes up to the empty fire-place, and removing the papered fire-board (the board covered in wallpaper that closed off the fireplace), sets up (stands it upright) this little hunch-backed image, like a tenpin (like a tall wooden pin that players aim at by rolling a heavy ball along the floor), between the andirons (the iron stands that hold burning logs up in a fireplace). The chimney jambs (The upright sides of the fireplace opening) and all the bricks inside were very sooty (black with the dust left by smoke), so that I thought this fire-place made a very appropriate (right for the purpose) little shrine (a small holy place kept only for worship) or chapel for his Congo idol.

I now screwed my eyes hard (stared with my eyes narrowed) towards the half hidden image (the small carved figure, half out of sight), feeling but ill at ease (far from comfortable) meantime—to see what was next to follow. First he takes about a double handful of shavings (as much of the thin wood curls as two hands will hold) out of his grego (that thick hooded coat) pocket, and places them carefully before the idol (the little wooden god); then laying a bit of ship biscuit (a hard dry bread baked to keep for months at sea) on top and applying the flame (the burning end of the lamp) from the lamp, he kindled (set burning) the shavings into a sacrificial blaze (a fire lit as an offering to a god). Presently (soon after), after many hasty snatches (quick grabs) into the fire, and still hastier (even quicker) withdrawals (pullings back) of his fingers (whereby (which showed that) he seemed to be scorching (burning the surface of) them badly), he at last succeeded in drawing out the biscuit; then blowing off the heat and ashes (the grey dust a fire leaves) a little, he made a polite offer of it to the little negro (the small black figure, under the word used in that century). But the little devil (the little evil one, said of the carved figure) did not seem to fancy (want) such dry sort of fare (such dry food) at all; he never moved his lips. All these strange antics (odd actions) were accompanied by still stranger guttural noises (rough sounds made deep in the throat) from the devotee (the man at his worship), who seemed to be praying in a sing-song (in a rising and falling chant) or else (or perhaps) singing some pagan psalmody (holy singing of a religion outside the Christian one) or other, during which his face twitched about (jerked with small sudden movements) in the most unnatural (not like anything in nature) manner. At last extinguishing (making the fire stop burning) the fire, he took the idol up very unceremoniously (without any respect for it), and bagged it again (pushed it back into his pocket) in his grego pocket as carelessly as if he were a sportsman (a man who hunts birds and animals for pleasure) bagging a dead woodcock (dropping a shot bird into his bag).

All these queer proceedings (strange things he was doing) increased my uncomfortableness (how uncomfortable I felt), and seeing him now exhibiting (showing) strong symptoms (signs) of concluding his business operations (finishing what he was busy with. I use the words of a shop or an office for a man praying to a wooden figure, as a joke), and jumping into bed with me (and signs that he was about to jump into bed with me), I thought it was high time (the moment when I had to act now; really I should have acted before), now or never (this moment or no moment at all), before the light was put out (the room was made dark), to break the spell (make myself able to move and speak again) in which I had so long been bound (that had held me still for such a long time).

But the interval I spent in deliberating (thinking it over) what to say, was a fatal one (one that ruined everything). Taking up his tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe) from the table, he examined the head of it (the cutting end of the axe) for an instant, and then holding it to the light, with his mouth at the handle, he puffed out great clouds (sent great clouds of smoke from his mouth) of tobacco smoke. The next moment the light was extinguished (made to go out), and this wild cannibal (a person who eats human flesh), tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe) between his teeth, sprang into bed (jumped into bed) with me. I sang out (I shouted), I could not help it (I could not stop myself) now; and giving a sudden grunt (a short deep noise from the throat) of astonishment (great surprise) he began feeling me (he began running his hands over me to find out what I was).

Stammering (speaking in a broken way, stopping and starting) out something, I knew not what (I did not know what I was saying), I rolled away from him against the wall, and then conjured him (begged him hard), whoever or whatever he might be, to keep quiet, and let me get up and light the lamp again. But his guttural responses (his rough answers from deep in the throat) satisfied me (made me sure) at once (straight away) that he but ill comprehended (hardly understood) my meaning.

“Who-e debel you? (Who are you? asked in anger. He speaks broken English.)”—he at last said—“you no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e (if you do not speak, curse you, I will kill you).” And so saying the lighted tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe) began flourishing about me (swinging about round me) in the dark.

“Landlord, for God’s sake (a cry of desperation: help me now), Peter Coffin (Peter Coffin, the man who keeps this inn)!” shouted I. “Landlord! Watch! (the night watchman who patrolled the streets before there were police) Coffin! Angels! save me!”

“Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be (tell me who you are), or dam-me, I kill-e!” again growled (said in a low rough voice) the cannibal (a person who eats human flesh), while his horrid flourishings (his frightening swings of it through the air) of the tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe) scattered the hot tobacco ashes (the grey dust left by burning) about me till I thought my linen (my bed sheets) would get on fire (start burning). But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light in hand (with a light in his hand), and leaping from the bed I ran up to him.

“Don’t be afraid now,” said he, grinning (smiling wide, showing the teeth) again, “Queequeg (Queequeg, the spear man I have been dreading all evening) here wouldn’t harm a hair of your head (would not hurt you in the smallest way).”

“Stop your grinning (smiling wide, showing the teeth),” shouted I, “and why didn’t you tell me that that infernal (cursed, an angry word rather than a statement about him) harpooneer (the man who throws the barbed spear into the whale) was a cannibal (a person who eats human flesh)?”

“I thought ye know’d it (I thought you knew it);—didn’t I tell ye, he was a peddlin’ heads (out selling heads) around town?—but turn flukes again (get back into bed. A whale turns its two tail fins up as it goes down.) and go to sleep. Queequeg (Queequeg, the name of the man in the bed), look here (listen to me)—you sabbee me (do you understand me. A word carried between languages by sailors.), I sabbee—you this man sleepe you (this man will sleep in the same bed as you)—you sabbee?”

“Me sabbee plenty (I understand very well)”—grunted (said with a short deep noise) Queequeg, puffing (blowing out little clouds of smoke) away at his pipe and sitting up in bed.

“You gettee in (You get in),” he added, motioning (making a sign with his hand) to me with his tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe), and throwing the clothes (the bed covers) to one side. He really did this in not only a civil (polite) but a really kind and charitable (generous and warm) way. I stood looking at him a moment. For all his tattooings (Even with all the marks pricked into his skin) he was on the whole (taking everything together) a clean, comely (pleasant to look at) looking cannibal (a person who eats human flesh). What’s all this fuss I have been making about, thought I to myself—the man’s a human being just as I am: he has just as much reason to fear me, as I have to be afraid of him. Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian (It is better to share a bed with a man-eater who is not drunk than with a Christian who is).

“Landlord,” said I, “tell him to stash (put away) his tomahawk (his light axe, made so it can also be smoked like a pipe) there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short (to put it simply), and I will turn in with him (go to bed beside him). But I don’t fancy (like the idea of) having a man smoking in bed with me. It’s dangerous. Besides, I ain’t insured (I have paid nobody to cover my losses if there is a fire).”

This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied (did as he was asked), and again politely motioned (made a sign with his hand) me to get into bed—rolling over to one side as much as to say (as if to say)—“I won’t touch a leg of ye (I will not touch even your leg, ye being an old way of saying you).”

“Good night, landlord,” said I, “you may go.”

I turned in (I went to bed), and never slept better in my life.