THE WHITE WHALE 77 
I should not break down her premises ; but I tore from her, and with a 
sudden bodily rush dashed myself full against the mark. 
With a prodigious noise the door flew open, and the knob slamming 
against the w r all, sent the plaster to the ceiling; and there, good 
heavens! there sat Queequeg, altogether cool and self-collected; right 
in the middle of the room; squatting on his hams, and holding Yojo 
on the top of his head. He looked neither one way nor the other way, 
but sat like a carved image with scarce a sign of active life. 
“Queequeg,” said I, going up to him, “Queequeg, what’s the matter 
with you?” 
“He hain’t been a-sittin’ so all day, has he ?” said the landlady. 
But all we said, not a word could we drag out of him ; I almost felt 
like pushing him over, so as to change his position, for it was almost 
intolerable, it seemed so painfully and unnaturally constrained; espe- 
cially, as in all probability he had been sitting so for upwards of eight 
or ten hours, going too without his regular meals. 
“Mrs. Hussey,” said I, “he’s alive at all events; so leave us, if 
you please, and I will see to this strange affair myself.” 
Closing the door upon the landlady, I endeavoured to prevail upon 
Queequeg to take a chair; but in vain. There he sat; and all he 
could do — for all my polite arts and blandishments — he would not 
move a peg, nor say a single word, nor even look at me, nor notice 
my presence in any, the slightest way. 
I wonder, thought I, if this can possibly be a part of his Ramadan; 
do they fast on their hams that way in his native island? It must 
be so; yes, it’s part of his creed, I suppose; well, then, let him rest; 
he’ll get up sooner or later, no doubt. It can’t last for ever, thank 
God, and his Ramadan only comes once a year ; and I don’t believe it’s 
very punctual then. 
I went down to supper. After sitting a long time listening to the 
long stories of some sailors who had just come from a plum-pudding 
voyage, as they called it (that is, a short whaling voyage in a schooner 
or brig, confined to the north of the Line, in the Atlantic Ocean only) ; 
after listening to these plum-puddingers till nearly eleven o’clock, I 
went upstairs to go to bed, feeling quite sure by this time Queequeg 
must certainly have brought his Ramadan to a termination. But no ; 
there he was just where I had left him ; he had not stirred an inch. I 
