Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Shaving with the Harpoon

Queequeg proceeds to wash himself, but to the narrator’s amazement, he washes only his chest, arms, and hands—not his face. After donning his waistcoat, he takes a bar of hard soap, dips it in water, and begins lathering his face. The narrator watches expectantly for a razor, but instead Queequeg retrieves his harpoon from the bed corner, removes the wooden stock, unsheathes the iron head, sharpens it briefly on his boot, and proceeds to scrape his face vigorously against the wall mirror using the harpoon blade as a razor. The narrator reflects that this is “using Rogers’s best cutlery with a vengeance,” later learning that harpoon heads are made of fine steel kept exceedingly sharp. After completing his unusual grooming, Queequeg proudly marches out wrapped in his pilot monkey jacket, sporting his harpoon like a marshal’s baton.

CAPÍTULO 5. Breakfast

Chapter 5 depicts the narrator’s breakfast experience at the Spouter-Inn, introducing the whalemen boarders and highlighting Queequeg’s distinctive comportment. The chapter establishes a tone that interweaves observation, philosophical reflection, and social commentary.

Greeting the Landlord and Humor Reflection

The narrator follows the landlord downstairs into the bar-room and greets him pleasantly, bearing no ill will despite the previous night’s prank involving the bed switch. The narrator then embarks on a philosophical tangent about laughter, declaring it “a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a good thing.” The narrator advocates for those with humor to freely spend themselves in making others laugh, suggesting that a person with “bountifully laughable” qualities likely possesses depths beyond initial appearance.

Whalemen Boarders’ Appearance and Time Ashore Clues

The narrator finally observes the boarders who arrived the previous night. They are predominantly whalemen, including chief mates, second and third mates, sea carpenters, coopers, blacksmiths, harpooneers, and ship keepers—a “brown and brawny company” with bushy beards, unshaven and shaggy, wearing monkey jackets as morning gowns. The narrator describes how one can determine how long each man has been ashore by examining his complexion: a sun-toasted pear hue indicates only three days landed; lighter skin suggests weeks ashore; a bleached tropical tan shows extended time on land. None, however, can match Queequeg’s multi-zoned complexion, described as resembling the Andes’ western slope with contrasting climates zone by zone.

Breakfast Gathering and Whalemen’s Unexpected Silence

The landlord announces breakfast with a cry of “Grub, ho!” The narrator digresses into another philosophical passage about world travelers, citing Ledyard and Mungo Park as examples of men who, despite extensive travel, possessed little social polish in polite company. The narrator suggests such solitary travel may not be the best path to social refinement. Yet despite expecting good stories about whaling, the narrator finds nearly every man maintaining profound silence and appearing embarrassed. These sea-dogs who had fearlessly boarded great whales without hesitation now sat sheepishly at the breakfast table, looking at each other like timorous creatures from the Green Mountains—a curious sight of bashful bears among the whalemen.

Queequeg’s Breakfast Conduct and Post-Meal Routine

Queequeg sat at the head of the table, cool as an icicle among the bashful company. While his admirers might struggle to justify his bringing a harpoon to breakfast and using it to reach across the table for beefsteaks, his actions possessed a certain coolness that the narrator notes “is to do it genteelly.” Queequeg avoided coffee and hot rolls, focusing entirely on rare beefsteaks. After breakfast concluded, he withdrew to the public room alongside the other boarders, lit his tomahawk-pipe, and sat quietly digesting and smoking while keeping his inseparable hat on. The narrator then departed for a stroll.

CAPÍTULO 6. The Street.

New Bedford’s streets present a remarkable cosmopolitan character, far exceeding other major seaports in the diversity of their inhabitants. While Broadway, Chestnut Street, and Regent Street occasionally see foreign mariners, New Bedford surpasses all—featuring actual cannibals, savages, and exotic Pacific Islanders (Feegeeans, Tongatobooarrs, Erromanggoans) casually conversing at street corners alongside wild whalemen. The town’s cosmopolitan street population makes a stranger stare.