CHAPTER 34
The Cabin-Table
It is noon; and Dough-Boy, the steward, thrusting his pale loaf-of-breadface from the cabin-scuttle, announces dinner to his lord and master who,sitting in the lee quarter-boat, has just been taking an observationof the sun; and is now mutely reckoning the latitude on the smooth,medallion-shaped tablet, reserved for that daily purpose on the upperpart of his ivory leg. From his complete inattention to the tidings,you would think that moody Ahab had not heard his menial. But presently,catching hold of the mizen shrouds, he swings himself to the deck,and in an even, unexhilarated voice, saying, "Dinner, Mr. Starbuck,"disappears into the cabin.
When the last echo of his sultan's step has died away, and Starbuck,the first Emir, has every reason to suppose that he is seated,then Starbuck rouses from his quietude, takes a few turns alongthe planks, and, after a grave peep into the binnacle, says, with sometouch of pleasantness, "Dinner, Mr. Stubb," and descends the scuttle.The second Emir lounges about the rigging awhile, and then slightlyshaking the main brace, to see whether it will be all right with thatimportant rope, he likewise takes up the old burden, and with a rapid"Dinner, Mr. Flask," follows after his predecessors.
But the third Emir, now seeing himself all alone on the quarter-deck,seems to feel relieved from some curious restraint; for, tipping allsorts of knowing winks in all sorts of directions, and kicking offhis shoes, he strikes into a sharp but noiseless squall of a hornpiperight over the Grand Turk's head; and then, by a dexterous sleight,pitching his cap up into the mizentop for a shelf, he goes downrollicking so far at least as he remains visible from the deck,reversing all other processions, by bringing up the rear with music.But ere stepping into the cabin doorway below, he pauses,ships a new face altogether, and, then, independent, hilarious littleFlask enters King Ahab's presence, in the character of Abjectus,or the Slave.
It is not the least among the strange things bred by the intenseartificialness of sea-usages, that while in the open air of the decksome officers will, upon provocation, bear themselves boldlyand defyingly enough towards their commander; yet, ten to one,let those very officers the next moment go down to theircustomary dinner in that same commander's cabin, and straightwaytheir inoffensive, not to say deprecatory and humble air towards him,as he sits at the head of the table; this is marvellous,sometimes most comical. Wherefore this difference? A problem?Perhaps not. To have been Belshazzar, King of Babylon;and to have been Belshazzar, not haughtily but courteously,therein certainly must have been some touch of mundane grandeur.But he who in the rightly regal and intelligent spirit presidesover his own private dinner-table of invited guests, that man'sunchallenged power and dominion of individual influence for the time;that man's royalty of state transcends Belshazzar's, for Belshazzarwas not the greatest. Who has but once dined his friends, has tastedwhat it is to be Caesar. It is a witchery of social czarshipwhich there is no withstanding. Now, if to this considerationyou super-add the official supremacy of a ship-master, then,by inference, you will derive the cause of that peculiarityof sea-life just mentioned.
Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lionon the white coral beach, surrounded by his war-like but stilldeferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waitedto be served. They were as little children before Ahab; and yet,in Ahab, there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance.With one mind, their intent eyes all fastened upon the old man's knife,as he carved the chief dish before him. I do not suppose that for theworld they would have profaned that moment with the slightest observation,even upon so neutral a topic as the weather. No! And when reachingout his knife and fork, between which the slice of beef was locked,Ahab thereby motioned Starbuck's plate towards him, the matereceived his meat as though receiving alms; and cut it tenderly;and a little started if, perchance, the knife grazed against the plate;and chewed it noiselessly; and swallowed it, not without circumspection.For, like the Coronation banquet at Frankfort, where the German Emperorprofoundly dines with the seven Imperial Electors, so these cabinmeals were somehow solemn meals, eaten in awful silence; and yet attable old Ahab forbade not conversation; only he himself was dumb.What a relief it was to choking Stubb, when a rat made a suddenracket in the hold below. And poor little Flask, he wasthe youngest son, and little boy of this weary family party.His were the shin-bones of the saline beef; his would have beenthe drumsticks. For Flask to have presumed to help himself,this must have seemed to him tantamount to larceny in the first degree.Had he helped himself at that table, doubtless, never more wouldhe have been able to hold his head up in this honest world;nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab never forbade him. And had Flaskhelped himself, the chances were Ahab had never so much as noticed it.Least of all, did Flask presume to help himself to butter.Whether he thought the owners of the ship denied it to him,on account of its clotting his clear, sunny complexion; or whetherhe deemed that, on so long a voyage in such marketless waters,butter was at a premium, and therefore was not for him, a subaltern;however it was, Flask, alas! was a butterless man!
Another thing. Flask was the last person down at the dinner,and Flask is the first man up. Consider! For hereby Flask'sdinner was badly jammed in point of time. Starbuck and Stubbboth had the start of him; and yet they also have the privilegeof lounging in the rear. If Stubb even, who is but a peg higherthan Flask, happens to have but a small appetite, and soon showssymptoms of concluding his repast, then Flask must bestir himself,he will not get more than three mouthfuls that day; for itis against holy usage for Stubb to precede Flask to the deck.Therefore it was that Flask once admitted in private,that ever since he had arisen to the dignity of an officer,from that moment he had never known what it was to be otherwisethan hungry, more or less. For what he ate did not so much relievehis hunger, as keep it immortal in him. Peace and satisfaction,thought Flask, have for ever departed from my stomach.I am an officer; but, how I wish I could fist a bit of old-fashionedbeef in the fore-castle, as I used to when I was before the mast.There's the fruits of promotion now; there's the vanity of glory:there's the insanity of life! Besides, if it were so thatany mere sailor of the Pequod had a grudge against Flaskin Flask's official capacity, all that sailor had to do,in order to obtain ample vengeance, was to go aft at dinnertime,and get a peep at Flask through the cabin sky-light, sittingsilly and dumfoundered before awful Ahab.
Now, Ahab and his three mates formed what may be called the firsttable in the Pequod's cabin. After their departure, taking placein inverted order to their arrival, the canvas cloth was cleared,or rather was restored to some hurried order by the pallid steward.And then the three harpooneers were bidden to the feast, they beingits residuary legatees. They made a sort of temporary servants'hall of the high and mighty cabin.
In strange contrast to the hardly tolerable constraintand nameless invisible domineerings of the captain's table,was the entire care-free license and ease, the almost franticdemocracy of those inferior fellows the harpooneers.While their masters, the mates, seemed afraid of the soundof the hinges of their own jaws, the harpooneers chewedtheir food with such a relish that there was a report to it.They dined like lords; they filled their bellies like Indianships all day loading with spices. Such portentous appetiteshad Queequeg and Tashtego, that to fill out the vacancies madeby the previous repast, often the pale Dough-Boy was fain to bringon a great baron of salt-junk, seemingly quarried out of the solid ox.And if he were not lively about it, if he did not go with animble hop-skip-and-jump, then Tashtego had an ungentlemanlyway of accelerating him by darting a fork at his back,harpoon-wise. And once Daggoo, seized with a sudden humor,assisted Dough-Boy's memory by snatching him up bodily,and thrusting his head into a great empty wooden trencher,while Tashtego, knife in hand, began laying out the circlepreliminary to scalping him. He was naturally a very nervous,shuddering sort of little fellow, this bread-faced steward;the progeny of a bankrupt baker and a hospital nurse.And what with the standing spectacle of the black terrific Ahab,and the periodic
al tumultuous visitations of these three savages,Dough-Boy's whole life was one continual lip-quiver. Commonly,after seeing the harpooneers furnished with all things they demanded,he would escape from their clutches into his little pantry adjoining,and fearfully peep out at them through the blinds of its door,till all was over.
It was a sight to see Queequeg seated over against Tashtego,opposing his filed teeth to the Indian's; crosswise to them,Daggoo seated on the floor, for a bench would have broughthis hearse-plumed head to the low carlines; at every motionof his colossal limbs, making the low cabin framework to shake,as when an African elephant goes passenger in a ship.But for all this, the great negro was wonderfully abstemious,not to say dainty. It seemed hardly possible that by suchcomparatively small mouthfuls he could keep up the vitalitydiffused through so broad, baronial, and superb a person.But, doubtless, this noble savage fed strong and drank deepof the abounding element of air; and through his dilatednostrils snuffed in the sublime life of the worlds.Not by beef or by bread, are giants made or nourished.But Queequeg, he had a mortal, barbaric smack of the lip in eating--an ugly sound enough--so much so, that the trembling Dough-Boyalmost looked to see whether any marks of teeth lurked in hisown lean arms. And when he would hear Tashtego singing outfor him to produce himself, that his bones might be picked,the simple-witted Steward all but shattered the crockery hanginground him in the pantry, by his sudden fits of the palsy.Nor did the whetstone which the harpooneers carried in their pockets,for their lances and other weapons; and with which whetstones,at dinner, they would ostentatiously sharpen their knives;that grating sound did not at all tend to tranquillize poorDough-Boy. How could he forget that in his Island days, Queequeg,for one, must certainly have been guilty of some murderous,convivial indiscretion. Alas! Dough-Boy! hard fares the white waiterwho waits upon cannibals. Not a napkin should he carry on his arm,but a buckler. In good time, though, to his great delight,the three salt-sea warriors would rise and depart; to his credulous,fable-mongering ears, all their martial bones jingling in themat every step, like Moorish scimetars in scabbards.
But, though these barbarians dined in the cabin, and nominallylived there; still, being anything but sedentary in their habits,they were scarcely ever in it except at mealtimes, and justbefore sleeping-time, when they passed through it to theirown peculiar quarters.
In this one matter, Ahab seemed no exception to most Americanwhale captains, who, as a set, rather incline to the opinionthat by rights the ship's cabin belongs to them; and that it is bycourtesy alone that anybody else is, at any time, permitted there.So that, in real truth, the mates and harpooneers of the Pequod mightmore properly be said to have lived out of the cabin than in it.For when they did enter it, it was something as a streetdoorenters a house; turning inwards for a moment, only to be turnedout the next; and, as a permanent thing, residing in the open air.Nor did they lose much hereby; in the cabin was no companionship;socially, Ahab was inaccessible. Though nominally includedin the census of Christendom, he was still an alien to it.He lived in the world, as the last of the Grisly Bears livedin settled Missouri. And as when Spring and Summer had departed,that wild Logan of the woods, burying himself in the hollow of a tree,lived out the winter there, sucking his own paws; so, in his inclement,howling old age, Ahab's soul, shut up in the caved trunk of his body,there fed upon the sullen paws of its gloom!