Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Landlord Mediates the Confrontation

The narrator shouts for the landlord, who rushes in with a light and reassures him that Queequeg (the harpooneer) will not harm him. The narrator complains that the landlord did not warn him the harpooneer was a cannibal, and the landlord explains he assumed the narrator knew from the earlier story of the head-peddling harpooneer. The landlord then speaks to Queequeg in broken English to confirm he understands the narrator will share the bed with him.

Narrator Agrees to Share the Bed

Queequeg grunts that he understands, politely motions the narrator to get into bed, and rolls over to make space. The narrator observes that despite his tattoos, Queequeg looks clean and comely, and decides it is better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian. He asks Queequeg to put away his tomahawk and stop smoking in bed, which Queequeg agrees to immediately, and the narrator climbs into bed and sleeps more soundly than he ever has before.

CAPÍTULO 4. : The Counterpane

The narrator wakes to find Queequeg’s tattooed arm draped over him, resembling the patchwork counterpane on the bed. The arm’s complex inked design blends visually with the quilt’s squares and triangles, creating a surreal visual effect. Despite the physical contact being comforting rather than threatening, the narrator experiences strange sensations at finding himself in this intimate embrace.

Waking in Queequeg’s Embrace

The narrator recalls a childhood incident involving his stepmother. After being caught misbehaving—attempting to crawl up the chimney like a little sweep—he was sent to bed at 2 PM on the longest day of the year as punishment. The sixteen hours he was forced to spend in bed felt like an eternity, especially with daylight streaming in and sounds of activity outside. When night fell, he experienced a terrifying nightmare where he felt a supernatural hand grasp his, leaving him paralyzed with fear for ages. Though the exact nature of this childhood experience remains mysterious to him even as an adult, the sensation of waking with Queequeg’s arm around him brings back similar feelings of strange vulnerability, though without the dread.

Recollection of a Childhood Nightmare

Now fully awake and recalling the night’s events, the narrator finds himself amused rather than alarmed by the comical situation of being embraced by a sleeping cannibal. He attempts to free himself from Queequeg’s grip, but the sleeping harpooner holds him tightly, as if death alone could separate them. The narrator calls out to Queequeg, who only snores in response. When the narrator rolls over, his neck aching from the position, he spots the tomahawk lying beside Queequeg like a sleeping baby. He desperately tries to wake his bedfellow by reminding him of the inappropriate nature of hugging another man in such a “matrimonial” fashion, finally extracting a grunt and then complete awakening.

Rousing Queequeg

Queequeg awakens and shakes himself like a wet Newfoundland dog, sitting up stiffly while rubbing his eyes in apparent confusion about how the narrator came to be in his bed. A dim consciousness of familiarity slowly dawns on him. After reconciling himself to the situation, he offers through gestures to dress first and leave the room for the narrator. The narrator reflects that despite being a “savage,” Queequeg demonstrates an innate sense of delicacy and consideration—qualities the narrator finds both surprising and admirable, especially given his own rudeness in staring from bed and watching Queequeg’s every movement. The narrator acknowledges that such an extraordinary character deserves unusual attention.

Queequeg’s Eccentric Dressing Routine

Queequeg begins his peculiar toilet routine by first donning his tall beaver hat, then hunting for his boots—but strangely, while still lacking trousers. He then performs the baffling act of climbing under the bed with boots in hand and hat on, engaging in violent contortions while putting them on. The narrator observes that Queequeg exists in a transitional stage between civilization and savagery: civilized enough to wear boots, yet savage enough to do so under the bed where no one can see. When Queequeg emerges, his hat is crushed and dented over his eyes, and he walks with a creaking, limping gait as the ill-fitting cowhide boots pinch his feet painfully. With no curtains on the window and a narrow street exposing the room to view, the narrator begs Queequeg to dress more appropriately, especially to put on his pantaloons. The narrator notes the indecency of Queequeg strutting about wearing only hat and boots.