296 
MOBY DICK; OR 
I suppose, straining and gasping there with that great iron hook — 
poor Queequeg, I suppose only prayed to his Yojo, and gave up his life 
into the hands of his gods. 
“Well, well, my dear comrade and twin-brother,’ ’ thought I, as 
I drew in and then slacked off the rope to every swell of the sea — 
“what matters it, after all ? Are you not the previous image of each 
and all of us men in this whaling world ? That unsounded ocean you 
gasp in,, is Life; those sharks, your foes; those spades, yuur friends; 
and what between sharks and spades you are in a sad pickle and 
peril, poor lad.” 
But courage! there is good cheer in store for you, Queequeg. For 
now, as with blue lips and bloodshot eyes the exhausted savage at last 
climbs up the chains and stands all dripping and involuntarily trem- 
bling over the side; the steward advances, and with a benevolent, 
consolatory glance hands him — what ? Some hot Cognac ? No ! hands 
him, ye gods ! hands him a cup of tepid ginger and water ! 
“Ginger? Do I smell ginger?” suspiciously asked Stubb, coming 
near. “Yes, this must be ginger,” peering into the as yet untasted 
cup. Then standing as if incredulous for a while, he calmly* walked 
towards the astonished steward slowly saying, “Ginger? ginger? and 
will you have the goodness to tell me, Mr. Dough-Boy, where lies the 
virtue of ginger ? Ginger ? is ginger the sort of fuel you use, Dough- 
Boy, to kindle a Are in this shivering cannibal? Ginger! — what the 
devil is ginger ? — sea-coal ? — firewood ? — lucif er matches ? — tinder ? — 
gun-powder ? — what the devil is ginger, I say, that you offer this cup 
to our poor Queequeg here ? 
“There is some sneaking Temperance Society movement about this 
business,” he suddenly added, now approaching Starbuck, who had 
just come from forward. “Will you look at that kannakin sir; smell 
of it, if you please.” Then watching the mate’s countenance, he added : 
“The steward, Mr. Starbuck, had the face to offer that calomel and 
jalap to Queequeg, there, this instant off the whale. Is the steward 
an apothecary, sir? and may I ask whether this is the sort of bel- 
lows by which he blows back the breath into a half-drowned man ?” 
“I trust not,” said Starbuck ; “it is poor stuff enough.” 
“Aye, aye, steward,” cried Stubb, “we’ll teach you to drug a har- 
