CHAPTER 18. His Mark.

As we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg

carrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us

from his wigwam, saying he had not suspected my friend was a cannibal,

and furthermore announcing that he let no cannibals on board that

craft, unless they previously produced their papers.

“What do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?” said I, now jumping on the

bulwarks, and leaving my comrade standing on the wharf.

“I mean,” he replied, “he must show his papers.”

“Yes,” said Captain Bildad in his hollow voice, sticking his head from

behind Peleg’s, out of the wigwam. “He must show that he’s converted.

Son of darkness,” he added, turning to Queequeg, “art thou at present

in communion with any Christian church?”

“Why,” said I, “he’s a member of the first Congregational Church.” Here

be it said, that many tattooed savages sailing in Nantucket ships at

last come to be converted into the churches.

“First Congregational Church,” cried Bildad, “what! that worships in

Deacon Deuteronomy Coleman’s meeting-house?” and so saying, taking out

his spectacles, he rubbed them with his great yellow bandana

handkerchief, and putting them on very carefully, came out of the

wigwam, and leaning stiffly over the bulwarks, took a good long look at

Queequeg.

“How long hath he been a member?” he then said, turning to me; “not

very long, I rather guess, young man.”

“No,” said Peleg, “and he hasn’t been baptized right either, or it

would have washed some of that devil’s blue off his face.”

“Do tell, now,” cried Bildad, “is this Philistine a regular member of

Deacon Deuteronomy’s meeting? I never saw him going there, and I pass

it every Lord’s day.”

“I don’t know anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or his meeting,” said

I; “all I know is, that Queequeg here is a born member of the First

Congregational Church. He is a deacon himself, Queequeg is.”

“Young man,” said Bildad sternly, “thou art skylarking with me—explain

thyself, thou young Hittite. What church dost thee mean? answer me.”

Finding myself thus hard pushed, I replied. “I mean, sir, the same

ancient Catholic Church to which you and I, and Captain Peleg there,

and Queequeg here, and all of us, and every mother’s son and soul of us

belong; the great and everlasting First Congregation of this whole

worshipping world; we all belong to that; only some of us cherish some

queer crotchets no ways touching the grand belief; in _that_ we all

join hands.”

“Splice, thou mean’st _splice_ hands,” cried Peleg, drawing nearer.

“Young man, you’d better ship for a missionary, instead of a fore-mast

hand; I never heard a better sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy—why Father

Mapple himself couldn’t beat it, and he’s reckoned something. Come

aboard, come aboard; never mind about the papers. I say, tell Quohog

there—what’s that you call him? tell Quohog to step along. By the great

anchor, what a harpoon he’s got there! looks like good stuff that; and

he handles it about right. I say, Quohog, or whatever your name is, did

you ever stand in the head of a whale-boat? did you ever strike a

fish?”

Without saying a word, Queequeg, in his wild sort of way, jumped upon

the bulwarks, from thence into the bows of one of the whale-boats

hanging to the side; and then bracing his left knee, and poising his

harpoon, cried out in some such way as this:—

“Cap’ain, you see him small drop tar on water dere? You see him? well,

spose him one whale eye, well, den!” and taking sharp aim at it, he

darted the iron right over old Bildad’s broad brim, clean across the

ship’s decks, and struck the glistening tar spot out of sight.

“Now,” said Queequeg, quietly hauling in the line, “spos-ee him whale-e

eye; why, dad whale dead.”

“Quick, Bildad,” said Peleg, his partner, who, aghast at the close

vicinity of the flying harpoon, had retreated towards the cabin

gangway. “Quick, I say, you Bildad, and get the ship’s papers. We must

have Hedgehog there, I mean Quohog, in one of our boats. Look ye,

Quohog, we’ll give ye the ninetieth lay, and that’s more than ever was

given a harpooneer yet out of Nantucket.”

So down we went into the cabin, and to my great joy Queequeg was soon

enrolled among the same ship’s company to which I myself belonged.

When all preliminaries were over and Peleg had got everything ready for

signing, he turned to me and said, “I guess, Quohog there don’t know

how to write, does he? I say, Quohog, blast ye! dost thou sign thy name

or make thy mark?”

But at this question, Queequeg, who had twice or thrice before taken