The Cabin-Table
It is noon; and Dough-Boy, the steward, thrusting his pale loaf-of-bread
face from the cabin-scuttle, announces dinner to his lord and master who,
sitting in the lee quarter-boat, has just been taking an observation
of the sun; and is now mutely reckoning the latitude on the smooth,
medallion-shaped tablet, reserved for that daily purpose on the upper
part of his ivory leg. From his complete inattention to the tidings,
you would think that moody Ahab had not heard his menial. But presently,
catching hold of the mizen shrouds, he swings himself to the deck,
and in an even, unexhilarated voice, saying, "Dinner, Mr. Starbuck,"
disappears into the cabin.
When the last echo of his sultan's step has died away, and Starbuck,
the first Emir, has every reason to suppose that he is seated,
then Starbuck rouses from his quietude, takes a few turns along
the planks, and, after a grave peep into the binnacle, says, with some
touch of pleasantness, "Dinner, Mr. Stubb," and descends the scuttle.
The second Emir lounges about the rigging awhile, and then slightly
shaking the main brace, to see whether it will be all right with that
important rope, he likewise takes up the old burden, and with a rapid
"Dinner, Mr. Flask," follows after his predecessors.
But the third Emir, now seeing himself all alone on the quarter-deck,
seems to feel relieved from some curious restraint; for, tipping all
sorts of knowing winks in all sorts of directions, and kicking off
his shoes, he strikes into a sharp but noiseless squall of a hornpipe
right over the Grand Turk's head; and then, by a dexterous sleight,
pitching his cap up into the mizentop for a shelf, he goes down
rollicking so far at least as he remains visible from the deck,
reversing all other processions, by bringing up the rear with music.
But ere stepping into the cabin doorway below, he pauses,
ships a new face altogether, and, then, independent, hilarious little
Flask enters King Ahab's presence, in the character of Abjectus,
or the Slave.
It is not the least among the strange things bred by the intense
artificialness of sea-usages, that while in the open air of the deck
some officers will, upon provocation, bear themselves boldly
and defyingly enough towards their commander; yet, ten to one,
let those very officers the next moment go down to their
customary dinner in that same commander's cabin, and straightway
their inoffensive, not to say deprecatory and humble air towards him,
as he sits at the head of the table; this is marvellous,
sometimes most comical. Wherefore this difference? A problem?
Perhaps not. To have been Belshazzar, King of Babylon;
and to have been Belshazzar, not haughtily but courteously,
therein certainly must have been some touch of mundane grandeur.
But he who in the rightly regal and intelligent spirit presides
over his own private dinner-table of invited guests, that man's
unchallenged power and dominion of individual influence for the time;
that man's royalty of state transcends Belshazzar's, for Belshazzar
was not the greatest. Who has but once dined his friends, has tasted
what it is to be Caesar. It is a witchery of social czarship
which there is no withstanding. Now, if to this consideration
you super-add the official supremacy of a ship-master, then,
by inference, you will derive the cause of that peculiarity
of sea-life just mentioned.
Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lion
on the white coral beach, surrounded by his war-like but still
deferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waited
to be served. They were as little children before Ahab; and yet,
in Ahab, there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance.
With one mind, their intent eyes all fastened upon the old man's knife,
as he carved the chief dish before him. I do not suppose that for the
world they would have profaned that moment with the slightest observation,
even upon so neutral a topic as the weather. No! And when reaching
out his knife and fork, between which the slice of beef was locked,
Ahab thereby motioned Starbuck's plate towards him, the mate
received his meat as though receiving alms; and cut it tenderly;
and a little started if, perchance, the knife grazed against the plate;
and chewed it noiselessly; and swallowed it, not without circumspection.
For, like the Coronation banquet at Frankfort, where the German Emperor
profoundly dines with the seven Imperial Electors, so these cabin
meals were somehow solemn meals, eaten in awful silence; and yet at
table old Ahab forbade not conversation; only he himself was dumb.
What a relief it was to choking Stubb, when a rat made a sudden
racket in the hold below. And poor little Flask, he was
the youngest son, and little boy of this weary family party.
His were the shin-bones of the saline beef; his would have been
the drumsticks. For Flask to have presumed to help himself,
this must have seemed to him tantamount to larceny in the first degree.
Had he helped himself at that table, doubtless, never more would
he have been able to hold his head up in this honest world;
nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab never forbade him. And had Flask
helped himself, the chances were Ahab had never so much as noticed it.
Least of all, did Flask presume to help himself to butter.
Whether he thought the owners of the ship denied it to him,
on account of its clotting his clear, sunny complexion; or whether
he deemed that, on so long a voyage in such marketless waters,
butter was at a premium, and therefore was not for him, a subaltern;
however it was, Flask, alas! was a butterless man!
Another thing. Flask was the last person down at the dinner,
and Flask is the first man up. Consider! For hereby Flask's
dinner was badly jammed in point of time. Starbuck and Stubb
both had the start of him; and yet they also have the privilege
of lounging in the rear. If Stubb even, who is but a peg higher
than Flask, happens to have but a small appetite, and soon shows
symptoms of concluding his repast, then Flask must bestir himself,
he will not get more than three mouthfuls that day; for it
is against holy usage for Stubb to precede Flask to the deck.
Therefore it was that Flask once admitted in private,
that ever since he had arisen to the dignity of an officer,
from that moment he had never known what it was to be otherwise
than hungry, more or less. For what he ate did not so much relieve
his hunger, as keep it immortal in him. Peace and satisfaction,
thought Flask, have for ever departed from my stomach.
I am an officer; but, how I wish I could fist a bit of old-fashioned
beef in the fore-castle, as I used to when I was before the mast.
There's the fruits of promotion now; there's the vanity of glory:
there's the insanity of life! Besides, if it were so that
any mere sailor of the Pequod had a grudge against Flask
in Flask's official capacity, all that sailor had to do,
in order to obtain ample vengeance, was to go aft at dinnertime,
and get a peep at Flask through the cabin sky-light, sitting
silly and dumfoundered before awful Ahab.
Now, Ahab and his three mates formed what may be called the first
table in the Pequod's cabin. After their departure, taking place
in inverted order to their arrival, the canvas cloth was cleared,
or rather was restored to some hurried order by the pallid steward.
And then the three harpooneers were bidden to the feast, they being
its residuary legatees. They made a sort of temporary servants'
hall of the high and mighty cabin.
In strange contrast to the hardly tolerable constraint
and nameless invisible domineerings of the captain's table,
was the entire care-free license and ease, the almost frantic
democracy of those inferior fellows the harpooneers.
While their masters, the mates, seemed afraid of the sound
of the hinges of their own jaws, the harpooneers chewed
their food with such a relish that there was a report to it.
They dined like lords; they filled their bellies like Indian
ships all day loading with spices. Such portentous appetites
had Queequeg and Tashtego, that to fill out the vacancies made
by the previous repast, often the pale Dough-Boy was fain to bring
on a great baron of salt-junk, seemingly quarried out of the solid ox.
And if he were not lively about it, if he did not go with a
nimble hop-skip-and-jump, then Tashtego had an ungentlemanly
way of accelerating him by darting a fork at his back,
harpoon-wise. And once Daggoo, seized with a sudden humor,
assisted Dough-Boy's memory by snatching him up bodily,
and thrusting his head into a great empty wooden trencher,
while Tashtego, knife in hand, began laying out the circle
preliminary to scalping him. He was naturally a very nervous,
shuddering sort of little fellow, this bread-faced steward;
the progeny of a bankrupt baker and a hospital nurse.
And what with the standing spectacle of the black terrific Ahab,
and the periodical tumultuous visitations of these three savages,
Dough-Boy's whole life was one continual lip-quiver. Commonly,
after seeing the harpooneers furnished with all things they demanded,
he would escape from their clutches into his little pantry adjoining,
and fearfully peep out at them through the blinds of its door,
till all was over.
It was a sight to see Queequeg seated over against Tashtego,
opposing his filed teeth to the Indian's; crosswise to them,
Daggoo seated on the floor, for a bench would have brought
his hearse-plumed head to the low carlines; at every motion
of his colossal limbs, making the low cabin framework to shake,
as when an African elephant goes passenger in a ship.
But for all this, the great negro was wonderfully abstemious,
not to say dainty. It seemed hardly possible that by such
comparatively small mouthfuls he could keep up the vitality
diffused through so broad, baronial, and superb a person.
But, doubtless, this noble savage fed strong and drank deep
of the abounding element of air; and through his dilated
nostrils snuffed in the sublime life of the worlds.
Not by beef or by bread, are giants made or nourished.
But Queequeg, he had a mortal, barbaric smack of the lip in eating--
an ugly sound enough--so much so, that the trembling Dough-Boy
almost looked to see whether any marks of teeth lurked in his
own lean arms. And when he would hear Tashtego singing out
for him to produce himself, that his bones might be picked,
the simple-witted Steward all but shattered the crockery hanging
round him in the pantry, by his sudden fits of the palsy.
Nor did the whetstone which the harpooneers carried in their pockets,
for their lances and other weapons; and with which whetstones,
at dinner, they would ostentatiously sharpen their knives;
that grating sound did not at all tend to tranquillize poor
Dough-Boy. How could he forget that in his Island days, Queequeg,
for one, must certainly have been guilty of some murderous,
convivial indiscretion. Alas! Dough-Boy! hard fares the white waiter
who waits upon cannibals. Not a napkin should he carry on his arm,
but a buckler. In good time, though, to his great delight,
the three salt-sea warriors would rise and depart; to his credulous,
fable-mongering ears, all their martial bones jingling in them
at every step, like Moorish scimetars in scabbards.
But, though these barbarians dined in the cabin, and nominally
lived there; still, being anything but sedentary in their habits,
they were scarcely ever in it except at mealtimes, and just
before sleeping-time, when they passed through it to their
own peculiar quarters.
In this one matter, Ahab seemed no exception to most American
whale captains, who, as a set, rather incline to the opinion
that by rights the ship's cabin belongs to them; and that it is by
courtesy alone that anybody else is, at any time, permitted there.
So that, in real truth, the mates and harpooneers of the Pequod might
more properly be said to have lived out of the cabin than in it.
For when they did enter it, it was something as a streetdoor
enters a house; turning inwards for a moment, only to be turned
out the next; and, as a permanent thing, residing in the open air.
Nor did they lose much hereby; in the cabin was no companionship;
socially, Ahab was inaccessible. Though nominally included
in the census of Christendom, he was still an alien to it.
He lived in the world, as the last of the Grisly Bears lived
in settled Missouri. And as when Spring and Summer had departed,
that wild Logan of the woods, burying himself in the hollow of a tree,
lived out the winter there, sucking his own paws; so, in his inclement,
howling old age, Ahab's soul, shut up in the caved trunk of his body,
there fed upon the sullen paws of its gloom!
