{"id":"01KJNXJQV29QQ98VXXR1GQK03K","cid":"bafkreiefhywyuiehegxfqmbgtq2zeoojxo5vamm6ytuabb3hpxtg2rwgjm","type":"text_chunk","properties":{"char_end":136431,"char_start":128453,"chunk_index":18,"chunk_total":178,"estimated_tokens":1995,"source_file_key":"moby-dick","text":"the reach of any plummet—‘out of the belly of hell’—when the whale\r\ngrounded upon the ocean’s utmost bones, even then, God heard the\r\nengulphed, repenting prophet when he cried. Then God spake unto the\r\nfish; and from the shuddering cold and blackness of the sea, the whale\r\ncame breeching up towards the warm and pleasant sun, and all the\r\ndelights of air and earth; and ‘vomited out Jonah upon the dry land;’\r\nwhen the word of the Lord came a second time; and Jonah, bruised and\r\nbeaten—his ears, like two sea-shells, still multitudinously murmuring\r\nof the ocean—Jonah did the Almighty’s bidding. And what was that,\r\nshipmates? To preach the Truth to the face of Falsehood! That was it!\r\n\r\n“This, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of\r\nthe living God who slights it. Woe to him whom this world charms from\r\nGospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God\r\nhas brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than\r\nto appal! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness! Woe\r\nto him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would\r\nnot be true, even though to be false were salvation! Yea, woe to him\r\nwho, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is\r\nhimself a castaway!”\r\n\r\nHe dropped and fell away from himself for a moment; then lifting his\r\nface to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes, as he cried out with\r\na heavenly enthusiasm,—“But oh! shipmates! on the starboard hand of\r\nevery woe, there is a sure delight; and higher the top of that delight,\r\nthan the bottom of the woe is deep. Is not the main-truck higher than\r\nthe kelson is low? Delight is to him—a far, far upward, and inward\r\ndelight—who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever\r\nstands forth his own inexorable self. Delight is to him whose strong\r\narms yet support him, when the ship of this base treacherous world has\r\ngone down beneath him. Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the\r\ntruth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out\r\nfrom under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant\r\ndelight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his\r\nGod, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the\r\nwaves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake\r\nfrom this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness\r\nwill be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final\r\nbreath—O Father!—chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal,\r\nhere I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world’s,\r\nor mine own. Yet this is nothing: I leave eternity to Thee; for what is\r\nman that he should live out the lifetime of his God?”\r\n\r\nHe said no more, but slowly waving a benediction, covered his face with\r\nhis hands, and so remained kneeling, till all the people had departed,\r\nand he was left alone in the place.\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 10. A Bosom Friend.\r\n\r\nReturning to the Spouter-Inn from the Chapel, I found Queequeg there\r\nquite alone; he having left the Chapel before the benediction some\r\ntime. He was sitting on a bench before the fire, with his feet on the\r\nstove hearth, and in one hand was holding close up to his face that\r\nlittle negro idol of his; peering hard into its face, and with a\r\njack-knife gently whittling away at its nose, meanwhile humming to\r\nhimself in his heathenish way.\r\n\r\nBut being now interrupted, he put up the image; and pretty soon, going\r\nto the table, took up a large book there, and placing it on his lap\r\nbegan counting the pages with deliberate regularity; at every fiftieth\r\npage—as I fancied—stopping a moment, looking vacantly around him, and\r\ngiving utterance to a long-drawn gurgling whistle of astonishment. He\r\nwould then begin again at the next fifty; seeming to commence at number\r\none each time, as though he could not count more than fifty, and it was\r\nonly by such a large number of fifties being found together, that his\r\nastonishment at the multitude of pages was excited.\r\n\r\nWith much interest I sat watching him. Savage though he was, and\r\nhideously marred about the face—at least to my taste—his countenance\r\nyet had a something in it which was by no means disagreeable. You\r\ncannot hide the soul. Through all his unearthly tattooings, I thought I\r\nsaw the traces of a simple honest heart; and in his large, deep eyes,\r\nfiery black and bold, there seemed tokens of a spirit that would dare a\r\nthousand devils. And besides all this, there was a certain lofty\r\nbearing about the Pagan, which even his uncouthness could not\r\naltogether maim. He looked like a man who had never cringed and never\r\nhad had a creditor. Whether it was, too, that his head being shaved,\r\nhis forehead was drawn out in freer and brighter relief, and looked\r\nmore expansive than it otherwise would, this I will not venture to\r\ndecide; but certain it was his head was phrenologically an excellent\r\none. It may seem ridiculous, but it reminded me of General Washington’s\r\nhead, as seen in the popular busts of him. It had the same long\r\nregularly graded retreating slope from above the brows, which were\r\nlikewise very projecting, like two long promontories thickly wooded on\r\ntop. Queequeg was George Washington cannibalistically developed.\r\n\r\nWhilst I was thus closely scanning him, half-pretending meanwhile to be\r\nlooking out at the storm from the casement, he never heeded my\r\npresence, never troubled himself with so much as a single glance; but\r\nappeared wholly occupied with counting the pages of the marvellous\r\nbook. Considering how sociably we had been sleeping together the night\r\nprevious, and especially considering the affectionate arm I had found\r\nthrown over me upon waking in the morning, I thought this indifference\r\nof his very strange. But savages are strange beings; at times you do\r\nnot know exactly how to take them. At first they are overawing; their\r\ncalm self-collectedness of simplicity seems a Socratic wisdom. I had\r\nnoticed also that Queequeg never consorted at all, or but very little,\r\nwith the other seamen in the inn. He made no advances whatever;\r\nappeared to have no desire to enlarge the circle of his acquaintances.\r\nAll this struck me as mighty singular; yet, upon second thoughts, there\r\nwas something almost sublime in it. Here was a man some twenty thousand\r\nmiles from home, by the way of Cape Horn, that is—which was the only\r\nway he could get there—thrown among people as strange to him as though\r\nhe were in the planet Jupiter; and yet he seemed entirely at his ease;\r\npreserving the utmost serenity; content with his own companionship;\r\nalways equal to himself. Surely this was a touch of fine philosophy;\r\nthough no doubt he had never heard there was such a thing as that. But,\r\nperhaps, to be true philosophers, we mortals should not be conscious of\r\nso living or so striving. So soon as I hear that such or such a man\r\ngives himself out for a philosopher, I conclude that, like the\r\ndyspeptic old woman, he must have “broken his digester.”\r\n\r\nAs I sat there in that now lonely room; the fire burning low, in that\r\nmild stage when, after its first intensity has warmed the air, it then\r\nonly glows to be looked at; the evening shades and phantoms gathering\r\nround the casements, and peering in upon us silent, solitary twain; the\r\nstorm booming without in solemn swells; I began to be sensible of\r\nstrange feelings. I felt a melting in me. No more my splintered heart\r\nand maddened hand were turned against the wolfish world. This soothing\r\nsavage had redeemed it. There he sat, his very indifference speaking a\r\nnature in which there lurked no civilized hypocrisies and bland\r\ndeceits. Wild he was; a very sight of sights to see; yet I began to\r\nfeel myself mysteriously drawn towards him. And those same things that\r\nwould have repelled most others, they were the very magnets that thus\r\ndrew me. I’ll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness\r\nhas proved but hollow courtesy."},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KJNXEDHZCC8DR4EPSQD0QP4P","peer_label":"moby-dick","peer_type":"text","predicate":"derived_from"},{"peer":"01KJNXECF9R1EZKS5Z7J8A8ZSB","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KJNXKXNA6Q7NV244AJQKVXKZ","peer_label":"queequeg","predicate":"extracted_entity","properties":{"entity_type":"person","extracted_at":"2026-03-02T00:02:25.844Z"}},{"peer":"01KJNXKYQT8NKB1JV9WAZTZ7F3","peer_label":"cape horn","predicate":"extracted_entity","properties":{"entity_type":"geographical_feature","extracted_at":"2026-03-02T00:02:25.844Z"}},{"peer":"01KJNXM2XS3T2EKE5ZDZJV9HWG","peer_label":"keel of the ages","predicate":"extracted_entity","properties":{"entity_type":"metaphorical_concept","extracted_at":"2026-03-02T00:02:25.844Z"}},{"peer":"01KJNXM2Y7Z2WXNXD78E308MM1","peer_label":"chapter 10 a bosom 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