Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

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.