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 give way with
their oars, 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.
