46 
MOBY DICK; OR 
difference of his very strange. But savages are strange beings ; at times 
you do not know exactly how to take them. At first they are over- 
awing; their calm self-collectedness of simplicity seems a Socratic wis- 
dom. I had noticed also that Queequeg never consorted at all, or hut 
very little, with the other seamen in the inn. He made no advances 
whatever; appeared to have no desire to enlarge the circle of his ac- 
quaintances. All this struck me as mighty singular; yet upon second 
thoughts, there was something almost sublime in it. Here was a man 
some twenty thousand miles from home, by the way of Cape Horn that 
is — which was the only way he could get there — thrown among people 
as strange to him as though he were in the planet Jupiter; and yet he 
seemed entirely at his ease; preserving the utmost serenity; content 
with his own companionship; always equal to himself. Surely this 
was a touch of fine philosophy; though no doubt he had never heard 
there was such a thing as that. But, perhaps, to be true philosophers, 
we mortals should not be conscious of so living or so striving. So soon 
as I hear that such or such a man gives himself out for a philosopher, 
I conclude that, like the dyspeptic old woman, he must have “broken 
his digester.” 
As I sat there in that now lonely room; the fire burning low, in 
that mild stage when, after its first intensity has warmed the air, it 
then only glows to be looked at; the evening shades and phantoms 
gathering round the casements, and peering in upon us silent, solitary 
twain ; the storm booming without in solemn swells ; I began to be sen- 
sible of strange feelings. I felt a melting in me. Ho more my 
splintered heart and maddened hand were turned against the wolfish 
world. This soothing savage had redeemed it. There he sat, his very 
indifference speaking a nature in which there lurked no civilised hy- 
pocrisies and bland deceits. Wild he was; a very sight of sights 
to see; yet I began to feel myself mysteriously drawn towards him. 
And those same things that would have repelled most others, they were 
the very magnets that thus drew me. I’ll try a pagan friend, thought 
I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy. I drew 
my bench near him, and made some friendly signs and hints, doing 
my best to talk with him meanwhile. At first he little noticed these 
advances; but presently, upon my referring to his last night’s hospi- 
talities, he made out to ask me whether we were again to be bedfellows. 
