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MOBY DICK; OR 
a relief it was to choking Stubb, when a rat made a sudden racket in 
the hold below. And poor little Flask, be was the youngest son, and 
little boy of this weary family party. His were the shinbones of the 
saline beef; bis would have been the drumsticks. For Flask to have 
presumed to help himself, this must have seemed to him tantamount 
to larceny in the first degree. Had he helped himself at that table, 
doubtless, never more would be have been able to bold bis bead up 
in this honest world; nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab never for- 
bade him. And bad Flask helped himself, the chances were Ahab bad 
never so much as noticed it. Least of all, did Flask presume to help 
himself to butter. Whether he thought the owners of the ship denied 
it to him, on account of its clotting his clear, sunny complex- 
ion; or whether he deemed that, on so long a voyage in such market- 
less waters, butter was at a premium, and therefore was not for 
him, a subaltern ; however it was, Flask, alas ! was a butterless 
man ! 
Another thing. Flask was the last person down at the dinner, and 
Flask is the first man up. Consider! For hereby Flask’s dinner was 
badly jammed in point of time. Starbuck and Stubb both had the 
start of him; and yet they also have the privilege of lounging in the 
rear. If Stubb even, who is but a peg higher than Flask, happens 
to have but a* small appetite, and soon shows symptoms of concluding 
his repast, then Flask must bestir himself, he will not get more than 
three’ mouthfuls that day; for it is against holy usage for Stubb to 
precede Flask to the deck. Therefore it was that Flask once admitted 
in private, that ever since he had risen to the dignity of an officer, from 
that moment he had never known what it was to be otherwise than 
hungry, more or less. For what he ate did not so much relieve his 
hunger, as keep it immortal in him. Peace and satisfaction, thought 
Flask, have for ever departed from my stomach. I am an officer; 
but, how I wish I could fish a bit of old-fashioned beef in the fore- 
castle, as I used to when I was before the mast. There’s the fruits of 
promotion now ; there’s the vanity of glory ; there’s the insanity of life ! 
Besides, if it were so that any mere sailor of the Pequod had a grudge 
against Flask in Flask’s official capacity, all that sailor had to do, in 
order to obtain ample vengeance, was to go aft at dinner-time, and get 
