{"id":"01KG8AP769WC97ZAQT7MGF3ZR1","cid":"bafkreiazpgy3upmsk7z63ebwvik6ad24hu43lptqdjuvb6aircurkop53q","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4061,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:49:30.764Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 57","source_file":"01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6","start_line":3981,"text":"Pequod, sauntering along, and picking our teeth with halibut bones.\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 18. His Mark.\r\n\r\nAs we were walking down the end of the wharf towards the ship, Queequeg\r\ncarrying his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his gruff voice loudly hailed us\r\nfrom his wigwam, saying he had not suspected my friend was a cannibal,\r\nand furthermore announcing that he let no cannibals on board that\r\ncraft, unless they previously produced their papers.\r\n\r\n“What do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?” said I, now jumping on the\r\nbulwarks, and leaving my comrade standing on the wharf.\r\n\r\n“I mean,” he replied, “he must show his papers.”\r\n\r\n“Yes,” said Captain Bildad in his hollow voice, sticking his head from\r\nbehind Peleg’s, out of the wigwam. “He must show that he’s converted.\r\nSon of darkness,” he added, turning to Queequeg, “art thou at present\r\nin communion with any Christian church?”\r\n\r\n“Why,” said I, “he’s a member of the first Congregational Church.” Here\r\nbe it said, that many tattooed savages sailing in Nantucket ships at\r\nlast come to be converted into the churches.\r\n\r\n“First Congregational Church,” cried Bildad, “what! that worships in\r\nDeacon Deuteronomy Coleman’s meeting-house?” and so saying, taking out\r\nhis spectacles, he rubbed them with his great yellow bandana\r\nhandkerchief, and putting them on very carefully, came out of the\r\nwigwam, and leaning stiffly over the bulwarks, took a good long look at\r\nQueequeg.\r\n\r\n“How long hath he been a member?” he then said, turning to me; “not\r\nvery long, I rather guess, young man.”\r\n\r\n“No,” said Peleg, “and he hasn’t been baptized right either, or it\r\nwould have washed some of that devil’s blue off his face.”\r\n\r\n“Do tell, now,” cried Bildad, “is this Philistine a regular member of\r\nDeacon Deuteronomy’s meeting? I never saw him going there, and I pass\r\nit every Lord’s day.”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or his meeting,” said\r\nI; “all I know is, that Queequeg here is a born member of the First\r\nCongregational Church. He is a deacon himself, Queequeg is.”\r\n\r\n“Young man,” said Bildad sternly, “thou art skylarking with me—explain\r\nthyself, thou young Hittite. What church dost thee mean? answer me.”\r\n\r\nFinding myself thus hard pushed, I replied. “I mean, sir, the same\r\nancient Catholic Church to which you and I, and Captain Peleg there,\r\nand Queequeg here, and all of us, and every mother’s son and soul of us\r\nbelong; the great and everlasting First Congregation of this whole\r\nworshipping world; we all belong to that; only some of us cherish some\r\nqueer crotchets no ways touching the grand belief; in _that_ we all\r\njoin hands.”\r\n\r\n“Splice, thou mean’st _splice_ hands,” cried Peleg, drawing nearer.\r\n“Young man, you’d better ship for a missionary, instead of a fore-mast\r\nhand; I never heard a better sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy—why Father\r\nMapple himself couldn’t beat it, and he’s reckoned something. Come\r\naboard, come aboard; never mind about the papers. I say, tell Quohog\r\nthere—what’s that you call him? tell Quohog to step along. By the great\r\nanchor, what a harpoon he’s got there! looks like good stuff that; and\r\nhe handles it about right. I say, Quohog, or whatever your name is, did\r\nyou ever stand in the head of a whale-boat? did you ever strike a\r\nfish?”\r\n\r\nWithout saying a word, Queequeg, in his wild sort of way, jumped upon\r\nthe bulwarks, from thence into the bows of one of the whale-boats\r\nhanging to the side; and then bracing his left knee, and poising his\r\nharpoon, cried out in some such way as this:—\r\n\r\n“Cap’ain, you see him small drop tar on water dere? You see him? well,\r\nspose him one whale eye, well, den!” and taking sharp aim at it, he\r\ndarted the iron right over old Bildad’s broad brim, clean across the\r\nship’s decks, and struck the glistening tar spot out of sight.\r\n\r\n“Now,” said Queequeg, quietly hauling in the line, “spos-ee him whale-e\r\neye; why, dad whale dead.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 57"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK7FP6P1V67V3ATJHHZ83","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AP76C40TXHBXHZCY6XXQG","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AP76C5BDYGN79Y4JSAW7J","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:49:35.433Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:41.997Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}