115 
THE WHITE WHALE 
tried to kick back, upon my soul, my little man, I kicked my leg right 
off! And then, presto! Ahab seemed a pyramid, and I, like a blaz- 
ing fool, kept kicking at it. But what was still more curious, Flask — 
you know how curious all dreams are — through all this rage that I was 
in, I somehow seemed to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was 
not much of an insult, that kick from Ahab. AVhy/ thinks I, 'what’s 
the row ? It’s not a real leg, only a false leg.’ And there’s a mighty 
difference between a living thump and a dead thump. That’s what 
makes a blow from the hand, Flask, fifty times more savage to bear 
than a blow from a cane. The living member — that makes the living 
insult, my little man. And thinks I to myself all the while, mind, 
while I was stubbing my silly toes against that cursed pyramid — so 
confoundedly contradictory was it all, all the while, I say, I was 
thinking to myself, 'what’s his leg now, but a cane — a whalebone 
cane. Yes,’ thinks I, 'it was only a playful cudgelling — in fact, only 
a whaleboning that he gave me — not a base kick. Besides,’ thinks I, 
'look at it once; why, the end of it — the foot part — what a small sort 
of end it is; whereas, if a broad-footed farmer kicked me, there s a 
devilish broad insult. But this insult is whittled down to a point only.’ 
But now comes the greatest joke of the dream, Flask. While I was 
battering away at the pyramid, a sort of badger-haired old merman, 
with a hump on his back, takes me by the shoulders, and slews me 
round. 'What are you ’bout ?’ says he. Slid ! man, but I was fright- 
ened. Such a phiz ! But, somehow, next moment I was over the 
fright. 'What am I about V says I at last. 'And what business is that 
of yours, I should like to know, Mr. Humpback ? Do you want a kick V 
By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said that, than he turned round 
his stem to me, bent over, and dragging up a lot of seaweed he had for a 
clout — what do you think I saw? — why thunder alive, man, his stern 
was stuck full of marlinspikes, with the points out. Says I, on second 
thoughts. 'I guess I won’t kick you, old fellow.’ 'Wise Stubb,’ said 
he, 'wise Stubb’ ; and kept muttering it all the time, a sort of eating of 
his own gums like a chimney hag. Seeing he wasn’t going to stop say- 
ing over his 'wise Stubb, wise Stubb’ I thought I might as well fall to 
kicking the pyramid again. But I had only just lifted my foot for it, 
when he roared out, 'Stop that kicking!’ 'Halloa,’ says I, 'what’s 
the matter now, old fellow ?’ 'Look ye here,’ says he ; 'let’s argue the 
