102 WHALING 



portion to her size. But the boat-steerers were an anomaly 

 in sea life, and strange stories are told of awkward situations 

 and hungry days to which they sentenced themselves when 

 they visited merchantmen where, their pride of office and pre- 

 cedence passing unrecognized, they were excluded from the 

 cabin table and would not cast official dignity to the winds for 

 the sake of comfort and plenty in the forecastle. 



Of the formalities of a whaler's cabin, I have found no picture 

 that equals the one drawn by Herman Melville in ''Moby Dick." 



"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 of 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 mizzen 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 mizzen- 



