CHAPTER 72

  The Monkey-Rope

  In the tumultuous business of cutting-in and attending to a whale,

there is much running backwards and forwards among the crew. Now hands

are wanted here, and then again hands are wanted there. There is no

staying in any one place; for at one and the same time everything

has to be done everywhere. It is much the same with him who

endeavors the description of the scene. We must now retrace our way

a little. It was mentioned that upon first breaking ground in the

whale's back, the blubber-hook was inserted into the original hole

there cut by the spades of the mates. But how did so clumsy and

weighty a mass as that same hook get fixed in that hole? It was

inserted there by my particular friend Queequeg, whose duty it was, as

harpooneer, to descend upon the monster's back for the special purpose

referred to. But in very many cases, circumstances require that the

harpooneer shall remain on the whale till the whole tensing or

stripping operation is concluded. The whale, be it observed, lies

almost entirely submerged, excepting the immediate parts operated

upon. So down there, some ten feet below the level of the deck, the

poor harpooneer flounders about, half on the whale and half in the

water, as the vast mass revolves like a tread-mill beneath him. On the

occasion in question, Queequeg figured in the Highland costume- a

shirt and socks- in which to my eyes, at least, he appeared to

uncommon advantage; and no one had a better chance to observe him,

as will presently be seen.

  Being the savage's bowsman, that is, the person who pulled the

bow-oar in his boat (the second one from forward), it was my

cheerful duty to attend upon him while taking that hard-scrabble

scramble upon the dead whale's back. You have seen Italian

organ-boys holding a dancing-ape by a long cord. Just so, from the

ship's steep side, did I hold Queequeg down there in the sea, by

what is technically called in the fishery a monkey-rope, attached to a

strong strip of canvas belted round his waist.

  It was a humorously perilous business for both of us. For, before we

proceed further, it must be said that the monkey-rope was fast at both

ends; fast to Queequeg's broad canvas belt, and fast to my narrow

leather one. So that for better or for worse, we two, for the time,

were wedded; and should poor Queequeg sink to rise no more, then

both usage and honor demanded, that instead of cutting the cord, it

should drag me down in his wake. So, then, an elongated Siamese

ligature united us. Queequeg was my own inseparable twin brother;

nor could I any way get rid of the dangerous liabilities which the

hempen bond entailed.

  So strongly and metaphysically did I conceive of my situation

then, that while earnestly watching his motions, I seemed distinctly

to perceive that my own individuality was now merged in a joint

stock company of two; that my free will had received a mortal wound;

and that another's mistake or misfortune might plunge innocent me into

unmerited disaster and death. Therefore, I saw that here was a sort of

interregnum in Providence; for its even-handed equity never could have

so gross an injustice. And yet still further pondering- while I jerked

him now and then from between the whale and ship, which would threaten

to jam him- still further pondering, I say, I saw that this

situation of mine was the precise situation of every mortal that

breathes; only, in most cases, he, one way or other, has this

Siamese connexion with a plurality of other mortals. If your banker

breaks, you snap; if your apothecary by mistake sends you poison in

your pills, you die. True, you may say that, by exceeding caution, you

may possibly escape these and the multitudinous other evil chances

of life. But handle Queequeg's monkey-rope heedfully as I would,

sometimes he jerked it so, that I came very near sliding overboard.

Nor could I possibly forget that, do what I would, I only had the

management of one end of it.*

  *The monkey-rope is found in all whalers; but it was only in the

Pequod that the monkey and his holder were ever tied together. This

improvement upon the original usage was introduced by no less a man

than Stubb, in order to afford to the imperilled harpooneer the

strongest possible guarantee for the faithfulness and vigilance of his

monkey-rope holder.

  I have hinted that I would often jerk poor Queequeg from between the

whale and the ship- where he would occasionally fall, from the

incessant rolling and swaying of both. But this was not the only

jamming jeopardy he was exposed to. Unappalled by the massacre made

upon them during the night, the sharks now freshly and more keenly

allured by the before pent blood which began to flow from the carcass-

the rabid creatures swarmed round it like bees in a beehive.

  And right in among those sharks was Queequeg; who often pushed

them aside with his floundering feet. A thing altogether incredible

were it not that attracted by such prey as a dead whale, the otherwise

miscellaneously carnivorous shark will seldom touch a man.

  Nevertheless, it may well be believed that since they have such a

ravenous finger in the pie, it is deemed but wise to look sharp to

them. Accordingly, besides the monkey-rope, with which I now and

then jerked the poor fellow from too close a vicinity to the maw of

what seemed a peculiarly ferocious shark- he was provided with still

another protection. Suspended over the side in one of the stages,

Tashtego and Daggoo continually flourished over his head a couple of

keen whale-spades, wherewith they slaughtered as many sharks as they

could reach. This procedure of theirs, to be sure, was very

disinterested and benevolent of them. They meant Queequeg's best

happiness, I admit; but in their hasty zeal to befriend him, and

from the circumstance that both he and the sharks were at times half

hidden by the blood-muddled water, those indiscreet spades of theirs

would come nearer amputating a leg than a tall. But poor Queequeg, I

suppose, straining and gasping there with that great iron hook- poor

Queequeg, I suppose, only prayed to his Yojo, and gave up his life

into the hands of his gods.

  Well, well, my dear comrade and twin-brother, thought I, as I drew

in and then slacked off the rope to every swell of the sea- what

matters it, after all? Are you not the precious image of each and

all of us men in this whaling world? That unsounded ocean you gasp in,

is Life; those sharks, your foes; those spades, your friends; and what

between sharks and spades you are in a sad pickle and peril, poor lad.

  But courage! there is good cheer in store for you, Queequeg. For

now, as with blue lips and blood-shot eyes the exhausted savage at

last climbs up the chains and stands all dripping and involuntarily

trembling over the side; the steward advances, and with a

benevolent, consolatory glance hands him- what? Some hot Cognac? No!

hands him, ye gods! hands him a cup of tepid ginger and water!

  "Ginger? Do I smell ginger?" suspiciously asked Stubb, coming

near. "Yes, this must be ginger," peering into the as yet untasted

cup. Then standing as if incredulous for a while, he calmly walked

towards the astonished steward slowly saying, "Ginger? ginger? and

will you have the goodness to tell me, Mr. Dough-Boy, where lies the

virtue of ginger? Ginger! is ginger the sort of fuel you use,

Dough-boy, to kindle a fire in this shivering cannibal? Ginger!-

what the devil is ginger?- sea-coal? firewood?- lucifer matches?-

tinder?- gunpowder?- what the devil is ginger, I say, that you offer

this cup to our poor Queequeg here."

  "There is some sneaking Temperance Society movement about this

business," he suddenly added, now approaching Starbuck, who had just

come from forward. "Will you look at that kannakin, sir; smell of

it, if you please." Then watching the mate's countenance, he added,

"The steward, Mr. Starbuck, had the face to offer that calomel and

jalap to Queequeg, there, this instant off the whale. Is the steward

an apothecary, sir? and may I ask whether this is the sort of

bitters by which he blows back the life into a half-drowned man?"

  "I trust not," said Starbuck, "it is poor stuff enough."

  "Aye, aye, steward," cried Stubb, "we'll teach you to drug it

harpooneer; none of your apothecary's medicine here; you want to

poison us, do ye? You have got out insurances on our lives and want to

murder us all, and pocket the proceeds, do ye?"

  "It was not me," cried Dough-Boy, "it was Aunt Charity that

brought the ginger on board; and bade me never give the harpooneers

any spirits, but only this ginger-jub- so she called it."

  "Ginger-jub! you gingerly rascal! take that! and run along with ye

to the lockers, and get something better. I hope I do no wrong, Mr.

Starbuck. It is the captain's orders- grog for the harpooneer on a

whale."

  "Enough," replied Starbuck, "only don't hit him again, but-"

  "Oh, I never hurt when I hit, except when I hit a whale or something

of that sort; and this fellow's a weazel. What were you about

saying, sir?"

  "Only this: go down with him, and get what thou wantest thyself."

  When Stubb reappeared, he came with a dark flask in one hand, and

a sort of tea-caddy in the other. The first contained strong

spirits, and was handed to Queequeg; the second was Aunt Charity's

gift, and that was freely given to the waves.