110 Queequeg in his Coffin CHAPTER 110 QUEEQUEG IN HIS COFFIN. Upon searching, it was found that the casks last struck into the hold were perfectly sound, and that the leak must be further off. So, it being calm weather, they broke out deeper and deeper, disturbing the slumbers of the huge ground-tier butts; and from that black midnight sending those gigantic moles into the daylight above. So deep did they go; and so ancient, and corroded, and weedy the aspect of the lowermost puncheonspuncheons: large casks., that you almost looked next for some mouldy corner-stone corner-stone cask: Alluding to the practice of placing a time capsule in a building’s masonry, here containing a facetious poster announcing Noah’s flood. cask containing coins of Captain Noah, with copies of the posted placards, vainly warning the infatuated old world from the flood. Tierce after tierce, too, of water, and bread, and beef, and shooks of stavesshooks of staves: bundles of wooden strips for making barrels., and iron bundles of hoops, were hoisted out, till at last the piled decks were hard to get about; and the hollow hull echoed under foot, as if you were treading over empty catacombs, and reeled and rolled in the sea like an air-freighted demijohndemijohn: large glass or clay bottle.. Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head. Well was it that the Typhoons did not visit them then. Now, at this time it was that my poor pagan companion, and fast bosom-friend, Queequeg, was seized with a fever, which brought him nigh to his endless end. Be it said, that in this vocation of whaling, sinecures are unknown; dignity and danger go hand in hand; till you get to be Captain, the higher you rise the harder you toil. So with poor Queequeg, who, as harpooneer, must not only face all the rage of the living whale, but—as we have elsewhere seen—mount his dead back in a rolling sea; and finally descend into the gloom of the hold, and bitterly sweating all day in that subterraneous confinement, resolutely manhandle the clumsiest casks and see to their stowage. To be short, among whalemen, the harpooneers are the holders, so called. Poor Queequeg! when the ship was about half disembowelled, you should have stooped over the hatchway, and peered down upon him there; where, stripped to his woollen drawers, the tattooed savage was crawling about amid that dampness and slime, like a green spotted lizard at the bottom of a well. And a well, or an ice-house, it somehow proved to him, poor pagan; where, strange to say, for all the heat of his sweatings, he caught a terrible chill which lapsed into a fever; and at last, after some days’ suffering, laid him in his hammock, close to the very sill of the door of death. How he wasted and wasted away in those few long-lingering days, till there seemed but little left of him but his frame and tattooing. But as all else in him thinned, and his cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre; and mildly but deeply looked out at you there from his sickness, a wondrous testimony to that immortal health in him which could not die, or be weakened. And like circles on the water, which, as they grow fainter, expand; so his eyes seemed rounding and rounding, like the rings of Eternity. An awe that cannot be named would steal over you as you sat by the side of this waning savage, and saw as strange things in his face, as any beheld who were bystanders when ZoroasterZoroaster: Persian founder of the Zoroastrian, or Parsi, religion, who lived ca. 628–551 BCE. died. For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books. And the drawing near of Death, which alike levels all, alike impresses allREVISION NARRATIVE: Death, which alike levels all, alike impresses all // The repetition of "alike" creates a halting rhythm that underscores the idea that every person not only dies but also has at the end a special revelation. This stressed commonality regarding Death also validates Queequeg’s final vision. However, in the British edition, the second "alike" has been cut. The reason is not clear: the deletion could be an editorial intervention, an authorial revision, or Melville’s correction of an error. Ignoring the rhetorical effectiveness of the repetition of “alike,” a British editor might have intervened, assuming that the second “alike” was grammatically unnecessary. Just as likely is that Melville might have revised by requesting the cut in the sheets he sent to England because he no longer felt that the halting rhythm was effective. A third possibility is that the repetition was an error in the American version to begin with, which Melville corrected. That is, Melville may have originally written “death, which levels all, alike impresses all” with only one "alike" in manuscript and then repositioned that single word so that it would appear before “levels” instead of “impresses all.” In this scenario, Melville's copyist or an American printer misread the revised manuscript, inserting "alike" before "levels" but failing to delete the still-visible “alike” in “alike impresses,” thus creating an unwanted repetition. By removing the second "alike" for the British edition, Melville would have corrected his text to its intended revised state. To compare American and British pages, click the thumbnails in the right margin. with a last revelation, which only an author from the dead could adequately tell. So that—let us say it again—no dying Chaldee or GreekChaldee or Greek: Chaldean (Babylonian) astronomers and astrologers were revered as wise men, being called on, for example, by King Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 2.5); similarly, ancient Greek philosophers, in particular Socrates, were acclaimed for their wisdom. had higher and holier thoughts than those, whose mysterious shades you saw creeping over the face of poor Queequeg, as he quietly lay in his swaying hammock, and the rolling sea seemed gently rocking him to his final rest, and the ocean’s invisible flood-tide lifted him higher and higher towards his destined heaven. Not a man of the crew but gave him up; and, as for Queequeg himself, what he thought of his case was forcibly shown by a curious favor he asked. He called one to him in the grey morning watchHe called one to him in the grey morning watch: The oddly mysterious, biblical-sounding "one"—that is, one of the crew and presumably Ishmael—echoes “Then said one unto him” (Luke 17.23). The sentence also evokes such biblical phrasings as “And he called them unto him” (Mark 3.23), or “Jesus called them unto him” (Luke 18.16). More specifically, “in the morning watch” occurs three times in the Bible (Exodus 14.24, 1 Samuel 11.11, Judith [Apocrypha] 12.5)., when the day was just breaking, and taking his hand, said that while in Nantucket he had chanced to see certain little canoes of dark wood, like the rich war-wood of his native isle; and upon inquiry, he had learned that all whalemen who died in Nantucket, were laid in those same dark canoes, and that the fancy of being so laid had much pleased him; for it was not unlike the custom of his own race, who, after embalming a dead warrior, stretched him out in his canoe, and so left him to be floated away to the starry archipelagoes; for not only do they believe that the stars are isles, but that far beyond all visible horizons, their own mild, uncontinented seas, interflow with the blue heavens; and so form the white breakers of the milky way. He added, that he shuddered at the thoughtREVISION NARRATIVE: the white breakers of the milky way. He added, that he shuddered at the thought // In the British edition, this passage has been changed so that the two sentences are combined by a dash and the phrase “after saying this,” to give ". . . the milky way—after saying this, he added . . . ." The alteration involves a subtle underscoring of who is speaking that an editor would not presume to make; chances are Melville made the revision. In this passage, Ishmael relates that Queequeg “called one to him” (presumably Ishmael himself) and “said” that he had observed the use of coffins for burial in Nantucket, which “was not unlike” the Polynesian custom of setting corpses adrift in canoes. In effect, Ishmael is relating Queequeg’s words through indirect dialogue, and for the most part balances Queequeg’s diction (“dark canoes”) with his own (“starry archipelagoes”). But as he proceeds, Ishmael’s idiom begins to dominate: “for not only do they believe that the stars are isles [Queequeg’s diction], but that far beyond all visible horizons, their own mild, uncontinented seas, interflow with the blue heavens; and so form the white breakers of the milky way” [Ishmael’s diction]. Melville’s insertion of “after saying this” clearly assigns such Ishmaelean words as “visible horizons,” “mild, uncontinented seas,” and “interflow” to Queequeg, thus, essentially blending the two consciousnesses. To compare American and British pages, click the thumbnails in the right margin. of being buried in his hammock, according to the usual sea-custom, tossed like something vile to the death-devouring sharks. No: he desired a canoe like those of Nantucket, all the more congenial to him, being a whaleman, that like a whale-boat these coffin-canoescoffin-canoes: In Ch. 24 of Typee, based on Melville's month-long stay on the Marquesan island of Nuku Hiva, the narrator Tommo describes stumbling upon the preserved corpse of a chieftain, seated in a rowing position in a canoe, facing a skull at the prow, and heading toward "Paradise." were without a keel; though that involved but uncertain steering, and much lee-way adown the dim ages. Now, when this strange circumstance was made known aft, the carpenter was at once commanded to do Queequeg’s bidding, whatever it might include. There was some heathenish, coffin-colored old lumber aboard, which, upon a long previous voyage, had been cut from the aboriginal groves of the Lackaday islandsLackaday islands: The Laccadive Islands, now called Lakshadweep, in the Arabian Sea off southern India. Ishmael is playing on "lackaday," an archaic expression of regret or dismay, or, perhaps, “lackadaisical,” meaning without energy., and from these dark planks the coffin was recommended to be made. No sooner was the carpenter apprised of the order, than taking his rule, he forthwith with all the indifferent promptitude of his character, proceeded into the forecastle and took Quee-queg’s measure with great accuracy, regularly chalking Queequeg’s person as he shifted the rule. “Ah! poor fellow! he’ll have to die now,” ejaculated the Long Island sailor. Going to his vice-bench, the carpenter for convenience’ sake and general reference, now transferringly measured on it the exact length the coffin was to be, and then made the transfer permanent by cutting two notches at its extremities. This done, he marshalled the planks and his tools, and to work. When the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he lightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring whether they were ready for it yet in that direction. Overhearing the indignant but half-humorous cries with which the people on deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one’s consternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to him, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some dying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will shortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be indulged. Leaning over in his hammock, Queequeg long regarded the coffin with an attentive eye. He then called for his harpoon, had the wooden stock drawn from it, and then had the iron part placed in the coffin along with one of the paddles of his boat. All by his own request, also, biscuits were then ranged round the sides within: a flask of fresh water was placed at the head, and a small bag of woody earth scraped up in the hold at the foot; and a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up for a pillow, Queequeg now entreated to be lifted into his final bed, that he might make trial of its comforts, if any it had. He lay without moving a few minutes, then told one to go to his bag and bring out his little god, Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his breast with Yojo between, he called for the coffin lid (hatch he called it) to be placed over him. The head part turned over with a leather hinge, and there lay Queequeg in his coffin with little but his composed countenance in view. “Rarmai” (it will do; it is easy), he murmured at last, and signed to be replaced in his hammock. But ere this was done, Pip, who had been slily hovering near by all this while, drew nigh to him where he lay, and with soft sobbings, took him by the hand; in the other, holding his tambourine. “Poor rover! will ye never have done with all this weary roving? where go ye now? But if the currents carry ye to those sweet Antilles where the beaches are only beat with water-lilies, will ye do one little errand for me? Seek out one Pip, who’s now been missing long: I think he’s in those far Antilles. If ye find him, then comfort him; for he must be very sad; for look! he’s left his tambourine behind;—I found it. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die; and I’ll beat ye your dying march.” “I have heard,” murmured Starbuck, gazing down the scuttle, “that in violent fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked in ancient tongues; and that when the mystery is probed, it turns out always that in their wholly forgotten childhood those ancient tongues had been really spoken in their hearing by some lofty scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor Pip, in this strange sweetness of his lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers of all our heavenly homes. Where learned he that, but there?—Hark! he speaks again: but more wildly now.” “Form two and two! Let’s make a General of him! Ho, where’s his harpoon? Lay it across here,—Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh for a game cock now to sit upon his head and crow! Queequeg dies game!—mind ye that; Queequeg dies game!—take ye good heed of that; Queequeg dies game! I say; game, game, game! but base little Pip, he died a coward; died all a’shiver;—out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye find Pip, tell all the Antilles he’s a runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he jumped from a whale-boat! I’d never beat my tambourine over base Pip, and hail him General, if he were once moreREVISION NARRATIVE: Pip Going Down 1 // One of three changes in the British edition, certainly made by Melville, to alter the tone of the concluding lines in Pip’s elegy for Queequeg. Imagining Queequeg to be a valiant “General,” the mad cabin boy considers himself unworthy of anything but shame; he is “drowned” and has already “died” (spiritually) because of what he takes to have been his cowardice in jumping from the whaleboat in Ch. 93, “The Castaway.” In revising this passage, Melville removed “once more” to give simply “if he were dying here.” The deletion seems warranted if only because one dies only once, but in Pip's mind his spiritual death is a metaphorical dying that would permit a second physical death. That nuance, however, is lost with the deletion of "once more." See also "them" and "go drown" in this passage. To compare American and British pages, click the thumbnails in the right margin. dying here. No, no! shame upon all cowards—shame upon themREVISION NARRATIVE: Pip Going Down 2 // One of three changes in the British edition, certainly made by Melville, that alters the tone of Pip’s elegy. In revising this word, Melville made the routine dialect alteration of “them” to “’em.” See also "once more" (for fuller context) and "go drown" in this passage.! Let ’em go drownREVISION NARRATIVE: Pip Going Down 3 // One of three changes in the British edition, certainly made by Melville, that alters the tone of Pip’s elegy. In revising this word, Melville altered “go drown” to “go down.” Rather than reiterating Pip’s self-deprecating notion that he is effectively dead and drowned, this revision builds a nuanced link between Pip’s madness and his having gone “down,” that is, dived deep to the core of human consciousness. See also "once more" (for fuller context) and "them" in this passage. like Pip, that jumped from a whale-boat. Shame! shame!” During all this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes, as if in a dream. Pip was led away, and the sick man was replaced in his hammock. But now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now that his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon there seemed no need of the carpenter’s box: and thereupon, when some expressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the cause of his sudden convalescence was this;—at a critical moment, he had just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone; and therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet, he averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter of his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a word, it was Queequeg’s conceit, that if a man made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale, or some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort. Now, there is this noteworthy difference between savage and civilized; that while a sick, civilized man may be six months convalescing, generally speaking, a sick savage is almost half-well again in a day. So, in good time my Queequeg gained strength; and at length after sitting on the windlass for a few indolent days (but eating with a vigorous appetite) he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw out arms and legs, gave himself a good stretching, yawned a little bit, and then springing into the head of his hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon, pronounced himself fit for a fight. With a wild whimsiness, he now used his coffin for a sea-chest; and emptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there. Many spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of grotesque figures and drawings; and it seemed that hereby he was striving, in his rude way, to copy parts of the twisted tattooing on his body. And this tattooing, had been the work of a departed prophet and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a mystical treatise on the art of attaining truthmystical treatise on the art of attaining truth: Ishmael’s phrasing echoes Melville’s discussion of “the great Art of Telling the Truth” in his "treatise" titled "Hawthorne and His Mosses," a review essay written while Melville was composing Moby-Dick; so that Queequeg in his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own live heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore destined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon they were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last. And this thought it must have been which suggested to Ahab that wild exclamation of his, when one morning turning away from surveying poor Queequeg—“Oh, devilish tantalization of the gods!”