{"id":"01KF7FPQ1JETWDPVWJK0A3RDE4","cid":"bafkreic76biz6zka4ivnqfdb4c2riqggtwqpfftvhclg3xn74pzn3qjtwy","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2008,"extracted_at":"2026-01-18T02:42:17.942Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KESYVB66H8YEVTN88DWE9W8D","start_line":1941,"text":"slightest bashfulness had boarded great whales on the high seas—entire\r\nstrangers to them—and duelled them dead without winking; and yet, here\r\nthey sat at a social breakfast table—all of the same calling, all of\r\nkindred tastes—looking round as sheepishly at each other as though they\r\nhad never been out of sight of some sheepfold among the Green\r\nMountains. A curious sight; these bashful bears, these timid warrior\r\nwhalemen!\r\n\r\nBut as for Queequeg—why, Queequeg sat there among them—at the head of\r\nthe table, too, it so chanced; as cool as an icicle. To be sure I\r\ncannot say much for his breeding. His greatest admirer could not have\r\ncordially justified his bringing his harpoon into breakfast with him,\r\nand using it there without ceremony; reaching over the table with it,\r\nto the imminent jeopardy of many heads, and grappling the beefsteaks\r\ntowards him. But _that_ was certainly very coolly done by him, and\r\nevery one knows that in most people’s estimation, to do anything coolly\r\nis to do it genteelly.\r\n\r\nWe will not speak of all Queequeg’s peculiarities here; how he eschewed\r\ncoffee and hot rolls, and applied his undivided attention to\r\nbeefsteaks, done rare. Enough, that when breakfast was over he withdrew\r\nlike the rest into the public room, lighted his tomahawk-pipe, and was\r\nsitting there quietly digesting and smoking with his inseparable hat\r\non, when I sallied out for a stroll.\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 6. The Street.\r\n\r\nIf I had been astonished at first catching a glimpse of so outlandish\r\nan individual as Queequeg circulating among the polite society of a\r\ncivilized town, that astonishment soon departed upon taking my first\r\ndaylight stroll through the streets of New Bedford.\r\n\r\nIn thoroughfares nigh the docks, any considerable seaport will\r\nfrequently offer to view the queerest looking nondescripts from foreign\r\nparts. Even in Broadway and Chestnut streets, Mediterranean mariners\r\nwill sometimes jostle the affrighted ladies. Regent Street is not\r\nunknown to Lascars and Malays; and at Bombay, in the Apollo Green, live\r\nYankees have often scared the natives. But New Bedford beats all Water\r\nStreet and Wapping. In these last-mentioned haunts you see only\r\nsailors; but in New Bedford, actual cannibals stand chatting at street\r\ncorners; savages outright; many of whom yet carry on their bones unholy\r\nflesh. It makes a stranger stare.\r\n\r\nBut, besides the Feegeeans, Tongatobooarrs, Erromanggoans, Pannangians,\r\nand Brighggians, and, besides the wild specimens of the whaling-craft\r\nwhich unheeded reel about the streets, you will see other sights still\r\nmore curious, certainly more comical. There weekly arrive in this town\r\nscores of green Vermonters and New Hampshire men, all athirst for gain\r\nand glory in the fishery. They are mostly young, of stalwart frames;\r\nfellows who have felled forests, and now seek to drop the axe and\r\nsnatch the whale-lance. Many are as green as the Green Mountains whence\r\nthey came. In some things you would think them but a few hours old.\r\nLook there! that chap strutting round the corner. He wears a beaver hat\r\nand swallow-tailed coat, girdled with a sailor-belt and sheath-knife.\r\nHere comes another with a sou’-wester and a bombazine cloak.\r\n\r\nNo town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one—I mean a\r\ndownright bumpkin dandy—a fellow that, in the dog-days, will mow his\r\ntwo acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands. Now when a\r\ncountry dandy like this takes it into his head to make a distinguished\r\nreputation, and joins the great whale-fishery, you should see the\r\ncomical things he does upon reaching the seaport. In bespeaking his\r\nsea-outfit, he orders bell-buttons to his waistcoats; straps to his\r\ncanvas trowsers. Ah, poor Hay-Seed! how bitterly will burst those\r\nstraps in the first howling gale, when thou art driven, straps,\r\nbuttons, and all, down the throat of the tempest.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KF7FPMMNM5YQGSAV1J5A319H","peer_label":"Wheelbarrow","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KF7FPMMNM5YQGSAV1J5A319H","peer_label":"Wheelbarrow","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KF7FPKDT5SHSH1ZQV6ABHQCA","peer_label":"Moby Dick; Or, The Whale","peer_type":"book","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KESYJX0Z6XE0HWTS5N3SDG0B","peer_label":"The Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KF7FPQ1YCXVRNM9NAJY275HN","peer_label":"Chunk 5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"},{"peer":"01KF7FPQ11VT1M6F6B2YASFF40","peer_label":"Chunk 3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-18T02:42:18.368Z","ts":"2026-01-18T02:42:26.611Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KF7FCDA7SCSJ6A30TDPDSJQV"}}