{"id":"01KJNXJV90HZ3ZNG6V7XRH8EDE","cid":"bafkreicn3lrlq4cm3uejymu3nkzattym4zrgqotey7feicsq447mxfrkta","type":"text_chunk","properties":{"char_end":1057310,"char_start":1049446,"chunk_index":148,"chunk_total":178,"estimated_tokens":1966,"source_file_key":"moby-dick","text":"reference, now transferringly measured on it the exact length the\r\ncoffin was to be, and then made the transfer permanent by cutting two\r\nnotches at its extremities. This done, he marshalled the planks and his\r\ntools, and to work.\r\n\r\nWhen the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he\r\nlightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring\r\nwhether they were ready for it yet in that direction.\r\n\r\nOverhearing the indignant but half-humorous cries with which the people\r\non deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one’s\r\nconsternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to\r\nhim, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some\r\ndying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will\r\nshortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be\r\nindulged.\r\n\r\nLeaning over in his hammock, Queequeg long regarded the coffin with an\r\nattentive eye. He then called for his harpoon, had the wooden stock\r\ndrawn from it, and then had the iron part placed in the coffin along\r\nwith one of the paddles of his boat. All by his own request, also,\r\nbiscuits were then ranged round the sides within: a flask of fresh\r\nwater was placed at the head, and a small bag of woody earth scraped up\r\nin the hold at the foot; and a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up for\r\na pillow, Queequeg now entreated to be lifted into his final bed, that\r\nhe might make trial of its comforts, if any it had. He lay without\r\nmoving a few minutes, then told one to go to his bag and bring out his\r\nlittle god, Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his breast with Yojo\r\nbetween, he called for the coffin lid (hatch he called it) to be placed\r\nover him. The head part turned over with a leather hinge, and there lay\r\nQueequeg in his coffin with little but his composed countenance in\r\nview. “Rarmai” (it will do; it is easy), he murmured at last, and\r\nsigned to be replaced in his hammock.\r\n\r\nBut ere this was done, Pip, who had been slily hovering near by all\r\nthis while, drew nigh to him where he lay, and with soft sobbings, took\r\nhim by the hand; in the other, holding his tambourine.\r\n\r\n“Poor rover! will ye never have done with all this weary roving? where\r\ngo ye now? But if the currents carry ye to those sweet Antilles where\r\nthe beaches are only beat with water-lilies, will ye do one little\r\nerrand for me? Seek out one Pip, who’s now been missing long: I think\r\nhe’s in those far Antilles. If ye find him, then comfort him; for he\r\nmust be very sad; for look! he’s left his tambourine behind;—I found\r\nit. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die; and I’ll beat ye your\r\ndying march.”\r\n\r\n“I have heard,” murmured Starbuck, gazing down the scuttle, “that in\r\nviolent fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked in ancient tongues; and\r\nthat when the mystery is probed, it turns out always that in their\r\nwholly forgotten childhood those ancient tongues had been really spoken\r\nin their hearing by some lofty scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor\r\nPip, in this strange sweetness of his lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers\r\nof all our heavenly homes. Where learned he that, but there?—Hark! he\r\nspeaks again: but more wildly now.”\r\n\r\n“Form two and two! Let’s make a General of him! Ho, where’s his\r\nharpoon? Lay it across here.—Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh for a game\r\ncock now to sit upon his head and crow! Queequeg dies game!—mind ye\r\nthat; Queequeg dies game!—take ye good heed of that; Queequeg dies\r\ngame! I say; game, game, game! but base little Pip, he died a coward;\r\ndied all a’shiver;—out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye find Pip, tell all the\r\nAntilles he’s a runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he\r\njumped from a whale-boat! I’d never beat my tambourine over base Pip,\r\nand hail him General, if he were once more dying here. No, no! shame\r\nupon all cowards—shame upon them! Let ’em go drown like Pip, that\r\njumped from a whale-boat. Shame! shame!”\r\n\r\nDuring all this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes, as if in a dream. Pip\r\nwas led away, and the sick man was replaced in his hammock.\r\n\r\nBut now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now\r\nthat his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon\r\nthere seemed no need of the carpenter’s box: and thereupon, when some\r\nexpressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the\r\ncause of his sudden convalescence was this;—at a critical moment, he\r\nhad just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone;\r\nand therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet,\r\nhe averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter\r\nof his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a\r\nword, it was Queequeg’s conceit, that if a man made up his mind to\r\nlive, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale,\r\nor some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort.\r\n\r\nNow, there is this noteworthy difference between savage and civilized;\r\nthat while a sick, civilized man may be six months convalescing,\r\ngenerally speaking, a sick savage is almost half-well again in a day.\r\nSo, in good time my Queequeg gained strength; and at length after\r\nsitting on the windlass for a few indolent days (but eating with a\r\nvigorous appetite) he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw out his arms\r\nand legs, gave himself a good stretching, yawned a little bit, and then\r\nspringing into the head of his hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon,\r\npronounced himself fit for a fight.\r\n\r\nWith a wild whimsiness, he now used his coffin for a sea-chest; and\r\nemptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there.\r\nMany spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of\r\ngrotesque figures and drawings; and it seemed that hereby he was\r\nstriving, in his rude way, to copy parts of the twisted tattooing on\r\nhis body. And this tattooing had been the work of a departed prophet\r\nand seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written\r\nout on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a\r\nmystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in\r\nhis own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one\r\nvolume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own\r\nlive heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore\r\ndestined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon\r\nthey were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last. And this thought\r\nit must have been which suggested to Ahab that wild exclamation of his,\r\nwhen one morning turning away from surveying poor Queequeg—“Oh,\r\ndevilish tantalization of the gods!”\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 111. The Pacific.\r\n\r\nWhen gliding by the Bashee isles we emerged at last upon the great\r\nSouth Sea; were it not for other things, I could have greeted my dear\r\nPacific with uncounted thanks, for now the long supplication of my\r\nyouth was answered; that serene ocean rolled eastwards from me a\r\nthousand leagues of blue.\r\n\r\nThere is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently\r\nawful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those\r\nfabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St.\r\nJohn. And meet it is, that over these sea-pastures, wide-rolling watery\r\nprairies and Potters’ Fields of all four continents, the waves should\r\nrise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here, millions of\r\nmixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all\r\nthat we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing\r\nlike slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by\r\ntheir restlessness.\r\n\r\nTo any meditative Magian rover, this serene Pacific, once beheld, must\r\never after be the sea of his adoption. It rolls the midmost waters of\r\nthe world, the Indian ocean and Atlantic being but its 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