{"id":"01KFNR871CR5D41AGQAR685T52","cid":"bafkreibnf4jcb23mklrfhkas65alev7eruxjgyxgkwtskg5kfnw5mg6gfm","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5562,"extracted_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:01.927Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 0","source_file":"01KFNR0Z394A878Y5AQ63MQEM2","start_line":5503,"text":"CHAPTER 31. Queen Mab.\r\n\r\nNext morning Stubb accosted Flask.\r\n\r\n“Such a queer dream, King-Post, I never had. You know the old man’s\r\nivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me with it; and when I tried to\r\nkick back, upon my soul, my little man, I kicked my leg right off! And\r\nthen, presto! Ahab seemed a pyramid, and I, like a blazing fool, kept\r\nkicking at it. But what was still more curious, Flask—you know how\r\ncurious all dreams are—through all this rage that I was in, I somehow\r\nseemed to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was not much of an\r\ninsult, that kick from Ahab. ‘Why,’ thinks I, ‘what’s the row? It’s not\r\na real leg, only a false leg.’ And there’s a mighty difference between\r\na living thump and a dead thump. That’s what makes a blow from the\r\nhand, Flask, fifty times more savage to bear than a blow from a cane.\r\nThe living member—that makes the living insult, my little man. And\r\nthinks I to myself all the while, mind, while I was stubbing my silly\r\ntoes against that cursed pyramid—so confoundedly contradictory was it\r\nall, all the while, I say, I was thinking to myself, ‘what’s his leg\r\nnow, but a cane—a whalebone cane. Yes,’ thinks I, ‘it was only a\r\nplayful cudgelling—in fact, only a whaleboning that he gave me—not a\r\nbase kick. Besides,’ thinks I, ‘look at it once; why, the end of it—the\r\nfoot part—what a small sort of end it is; whereas, if a broad footed\r\nfarmer kicked me, _there’s_ a devilish broad insult. But this insult is\r\nwhittled down to a point only.’ But now comes the greatest joke of the\r\ndream, Flask. While I was battering away at the pyramid, a sort of\r\nbadger-haired old merman, with a hump on his back, takes me by the\r\nshoulders, and slews me round. ‘What are you ’bout?’ says he. Slid!\r\nman, but I was frightened. Such a phiz! But, somehow, next moment I was\r\nover the fright. ‘What am I about?’ says I at last. ‘And what business\r\nis that of yours, I should like to know, Mr. Humpback? Do _you_ want a\r\nkick?’ By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said that, than he turned\r\nround his stern to me, bent over, and dragging up a lot of seaweed he\r\nhad for a clout—what do you think, I saw?—why thunder alive, man, his\r\nstern was stuck full of marlinspikes, with the points out. Says I, on\r\nsecond thoughts, ‘I guess I won’t kick you, old fellow.’ ‘Wise Stubb,’\r\nsaid he, ‘wise Stubb;’ and kept muttering it all the time, a sort of\r\neating of his own gums like a chimney hag. Seeing he wasn’t going to\r\nstop saying over his ‘wise Stubb, wise Stubb,’ I thought I might as\r\nwell fall to kicking the pyramid again. But I had only just lifted my\r\nfoot for it, when he roared out, ‘Stop that kicking!’ ‘Halloa,’ says I,\r\n‘what’s the matter now, old fellow?’ ‘Look ye here,’ says he; ‘let’s\r\nargue the insult. Captain Ahab kicked ye, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’\r\nsays I—‘right _here_ it was.’ ‘Very good,’ says he—‘he used his ivory\r\nleg, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’ says I. ‘Well then,’ says he, ‘wise\r\nStubb, what have you to complain of? Didn’t he kick with right good\r\nwill? it wasn’t a common pitch pine leg he kicked with, was it? No, you\r\nwere kicked by a great man, and with a beautiful ivory leg, Stubb. It’s\r\nan honor; I consider it an honor. Listen, wise Stubb. In old England\r\nthe greatest lords think it great glory to be slapped by a queen, and\r\nmade garter-knights of; but, be _your_ boast, Stubb, that ye were\r\nkicked by old Ahab, and made a wise man of. Remember what I say; _be_\r\nkicked by him; account his kicks honors; and on no account kick back;\r\nfor you can’t help yourself, wise Stubb. Don’t you see that pyramid?’\r\nWith that, he all of a sudden seemed somehow, in some queer fashion, to\r\nswim off into the air. I snored; rolled over; and there I was in my\r\nhammock! Now, what do you think of that dream, Flask?”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know; it seems a sort of foolish to me, tho.’”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 0"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KFNR84C1006DQDPN4WP4AAEX","peer_label":"31","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KFNR84C1006DQDPN4WP4AAEX","peer_label":"31","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR81RMVAX2BBMMBW51V97D","peer_label":"Moby Dick; Or, The Whale","peer_type":"novel","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR0H0Q791Y1SMZWEQ09FGV","peer_label":"Moby Dick","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KFNR872N83YBZJ143XYXW7MB","peer_label":"Chunk 1","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:02.576Z","ts":"2026-01-23T15:41:14.962Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}