My name is Ishmael.

A few years ago, though I found money, it occurred to me to

embark and see the world. But not as a passenger, but as a crewman, as a simple
bowman. This is a bit unpleasant, since you have to jump from one side to another,
and it makes one dizzy with unpleasant commands and tasks, but over time one
gets used to it.
And of course, because they insist on paying me my work, while a passenger has to
pay his own. There is more: I like pure air and healthy exercise. Let's say that the
bowman receives more fresh air than the officers, than from a stern and receive
secondhand air.
Finally I will say that I had decided to embark on a whaler, since whales attracted
me irresistibly.
True, it is a dangerous hunt, but it has its compensations: the seas in which these
cetaceans move, the wonderful waiting,
The foral cry when there is a ...
The fact is that I put a couple of shirts in my old bag and I left ready to reach Cape
Horn or the Pacific. I left the old city of Manhattan and reached New Bedford. It was
a Saturday in December and I was very disappointed when I found out
That the boat had already sailed for Nantucket and that there was no way to get to
it before the following Monday. And I was prepared not to embark on a boat
Of Nantucket, from where the first whalers were made to sea, that is to say, the red
skins.
As I had to spend two nights and one day in New Bedford, I was concerned above all
about where I could eat and sleep. It was a dark night, cold and desolate. I did not
know anyone, and in my pocket there were only a few silver coins.
I passed by "The Crossed Harpoons," which seemed to me to be too cheerful and
expensive, and the same thing happened to the "Swordfish Inn". Apart from them,
the neighborhood was almost deserted. But it was not long before I found myself in
front of a wide, low door, with a steaming light.
And I entered the place. From the banks. A hundred black faces me
He looked: it was a church for colored people. It was not good. Therefore, for my
purposes.
Close to the docks. I heard a sample in the air. I looked up and saw that it said:
"Whale Whisperer's Inn. Peter Coffin. " The name was unattractive. "Coffin" means
coffin, as everyone knows, but apparently is a surname
Stream in Nantucket.
Through the door came a fugitive glow. And the house itself was very strange, since
She leaned to the side as if the wind were pushing her, and she was very old.
As he entered that sordid inn, one was in a hallway reminiscent of a dismantled
ship. It was all in shadows, just dissipated by
Candles lit. The wall opposite the entrance was adorned with spears, maces
decorated with ivory teeth and others with human hair as adornments. One of
They, in the form of a saw, were particularly chilling. There were also unused
whaling harpoons.
Once past the vestibule one entered the common room, with beams of heavy oak in
the ceiling, and in the bottom a counter. There were shelves with memories and
even the huge jaw of a whale. On entering I saw a few gathered in the hall
Young sailors. I went to the patron and asked for a room. He told me that the house
was full and that he did not have a single bed.
"But wait," he added suddenly. I would not mind sharing a bed with a whaler, right?
I replied that I did not like sharing the bed with anyone, but that if there was no
choice ... and that if the whaler was not repulsive ...
"All right, sit down," he said. Dinner will be at once.
I sat down on the common bench next to a young sailor who carved the wood of the
bench with a knife. Shortly afterwards they called us four or five to an adjoining
room. There was no fire, a polar cold, and the room lit only with two candles.
The food was good meat with potatoes, tea and pudding.
"Where's that harpooner?" I asked the owner. Is it any of these?
-Do not. The harpooner is a kind of black man, and he will not be long.
At the end of the meal, we went back to the common room, which was soon filled
with a group of savage sailors, who said the owner was the Grampuss staff.

They had just disembarked and composed a good collection of bandits who
immediately rushed to the counter, ready to do away with all the
Stocks of liquor, if liquor could be called the poison they sold there.
Soon they were all drunk, except one, who stood apart. It would be about six feet
tall, a chest like a coffer and very broad shoulders. Her musculature was the most
developed she had ever seen in any man. The face, very tanned and very white
teeth. In his voice, although he spoke little, there was a Southern accent. When the
commotion became unbearable, it disappeared, and I did not see him again until ... I
found him on a ship, but that belongs to another place in history.
His companions soon missed him and they left in their pursuit
Shouting where Bulkington was, his name, no doubt.
The room was silent after the march of those vandals. Meanwhile, I thought I did not
like sleeping with anyone. It is true that sailors sleep
In the same room, but each in his hammock and covers with his own blankets. So
the more he thought about that harpooneer, the more he hated the idea of sleeping
with him. Presumably it was dirty and just meditating on it and I began to itch the
body.
"Patron," I said, "I've changed my mind. I will not sleep with the harpooner, but I will
do it on this bench.
"As you wish, but the wood is very hard and full of knots and notches. I'll brush it a
little.
And with a planter began to smooth, while he laughed like a monkey. I asked him
not to worry about me any more and he left me, coming back from his counter.
The bench was a bit short for me, and also too tight. And in addition, a stream of
cold air would flow through the window that would freeze a dead man. My idea was
not working out as good as I thought.
"To hell with the harpooner!" -I thought-. And I thought about gambling. I lay down
before I got there and bolt the door. But I also thought that most likely the
harpooneer would knock the door open, or worse, the next morning he would wait
for me in the corridor to ask for explanations, with a knife in his hand. Wait a while.
The happy harpooner did not appear. "Patron," I asked. What kind of guy is that
harpooner? "Well, he usually goes to bed early," she said. I do not see what it was
that held him so late today, unless he could not sell his head. "Are you crazy?" I
asked furiously. Does that mean that man walks the streets trying to sell his head?
-Yes. And I told him that I could not sell it, since there are too many Stocks. "But
stocks of what?" I screamed. - Of heads. There are many in the world. "Hey, I'm not
a rookie, so do not tease me. "As you wish, but I advise you not to make fun of the
harpooner over your head." "Well, I'll break it!" "No, it's already broken. I thought I
was going crazy. "Rat," I said. Let's make things clear. I come to your house, and I
ask one bed. You tell me you can not give me more than half and the other half
belongs to a harpooner who is trying to sell his head through the streets. You are
crazy. "I do not see why you have to put yourself like this," said the patron.
The harpooner has just arrived from the Pacific, where he bought a batch of
embalmed heads in New Zealand. He has sold them all but one, which he is trying
to sell today because
Tomorrow is Sunday and it would not look nice to be selling heads while people go
to mass.
Clarified the mystery. I breathed quietly. But I asked if the harpooner was a
Dangerous man and he replied that he paid on time.
"And I think it's time we tossed the anchor," he added. Go to your
Bed, which is very good. Sally and I slept on it on our wedding night and there is
room in it for two. On the other hand, "he glanced at the clock, which marked twelve
o'clock," it's already Sunday, and perhaps the harpooneer has landed somewhere
and has not come. "
So, are you coming or not?
I followed him and led me to an icy room, but with a fabulous bed, in which four
harpoons could sleep without bothering.
I examined the bed and found it well. In the rest of the room there was nothing
more than a rough rack and a folding screen... A sailor's sack, which belonged to the

harpooner, and upon it a large doormat with a hole, which made it look like an
enormous Indian poncho.
Shrugging, I undressed and got into bed. I do not know if the mattress was or not
made with pebbles, but the fact is that I could not fall asleep.
Suddenly I heard footsteps in the corridor and the door opened. A stranger entered
the room, a candle in one hand and a head in the other. Without looking at the bed,
the harpoonezer left the candle and began to untie his sack. When she turned to
me, I could see her face.
And what a face! It had a yellowish purple color, if that color can
Exist, and all full of black squares. What a bed partner!
Surely those squares were tattoos. As she stared at him with her eyes half open, she
took a tomahawk out of her sack, and along with a sealskin purse. Placed both on
the trunk.
Inside the sack he put his head on his beaver hat, and it made a terrible impression
on me. He did not have a single hair on his head, except a lock on his forehead.
Terrified, I even thought about jumping out the window, but we were on a second
floor. I'm not a coward, but that guy really did. He was still undressed, and at
Discovered were chest and arms, as squared as his face. He was an absolutely
abominable savage, he and his damn heads. What if he tried to get her
mine?
My surprises were not over. From a coat pocket he had just removed, he pulled out a
deformed, humped, black figurine. For a moment I was afraid I was a real baby, but
it actually glowed as if it were made with ebony. It was undoubtedly a wooden idol.
He placed it among the hearths of the hearth. Then
Took a handful of wood chips, set them before the idol and set them on fire.
On the flames he placed a trace of sea biscuit, and after roasting it, he offered it to
the idol.
Meanwhile, guttural and frightening sounds came from his lips, as if praying or
muttering oaths, anyone knows.
After this operation, he turned on the tomahawk, which was also a pipe and
He threw some satisfied puffs of smoke. A moment later the light went out and the
scarecrow went with me into the bed.
I screamed in horror, and, surprised, the savage touched me. I pulled away from
him as much as I could and asked him to let me get up and light the candle again.
But
He should not have understood me.
"Who's here?" -I ask-. Do not talk, I kill you. -Pattern! I yelled for help, because the
guy did not seem willing to let go. -Speaks! Not talking and I'll kill you. "And as he
said this, he waved the tomahawk on, filling it with embers and sparks. At that
moment, thank God! The patron entered with a candle, and I left Running to meet
them. "But what's wrong?" Said Coffin. Queequeg will not hurt you. "But why did not
you tell me this guy was a cannibal?" I screamed. "I thought I knew it, when I told
him about the heads." So go to sleep. Queequeg, this guy just wants to sleep in
your bed. Your understanding? "Well," said the savage with a puff of smoke. You, go
to bed here. And he took his clothes off the bed to show his good intentions. "Rat," I
said. At least tell him to release the tomahawk. It's dangerous to smoke in bed!
Queequeg nodded kindly and motioned for me to lie down again. He seemed to
have lost all his aggressive intentions. Reassured, I went to bed and told the boss
that I could retire. And the fact is that soon I fell asleep and did it with all tranquility
and very well.