408 
MOBY DICK; OR 
to get the right. Do you know, gentlemen” — very gravely and math- 
ematically bowing to each captain in succession — “do you know, gentle- 
men, that the digestive organs of the whale are so inscrutably con- 
structed by Divine Providence, that it is quite impossible for him to 
completely digest even a man’s arm ? And he knows it too. So that 
what you take for the White Whale’s malice is only his awkwardness. 
For he never means to swallow a single limb; he only thinks to terrify 
by feints. But sometimes he is like the old juggling fellow, formerly 
a patient of mine in Ceylon, that making believe swallow jack-knives, 
once upon a time let one drop into him in good earnest, and there it 
stayed for a twelvemonth or more ; when I gave him an emetic, and he 
heaved it up in small tacks, d’ye see. No possible way for him to 
digest that jack-knife, and fully incorporate it into his general bodily 
system. Yes, Captain Boomer, if you are quick enough about it, and 
have a mind to pawn one arm for the sake of the privilege of giving 
decent burial to the other, why in that case the arm is yours; only let 
the whale have another chance at you shortly, that’s all.” 
“No, thank ye, Bunger,” said the English captain; “he’s welcome 
to the arm he has, since I can’t help it, and didn’t know him then, but 
not to another one. No more White Whales for me; I’ve lowered 
for him once, and that has satisfied me. There would be great glory 
in killing him, I know that ; and there is a ship-load of precious sperm 
in him, but, hark ye, he’s best let alone ; don’t you think so, captain ?” 
— glancing at the ivory leg. 
“He is. But he will still be hunted, for all that. What is best let 
alone, that accursed thing is not always what least allures. He’s all 
a magnet. How long since thou saw’st him last? Which way head- 
ing ?” 
“Bless my soul, and curse the foul fiend’s,” cried Bunger stoopingly 
walking around Ahab, and like a dog strangely snuffing; “this man’s 
blood — bring the thermometer! — it’s at the boiling point! — his pulse 
makes these planks beat ! — sir !” — taking a lancet from his pocket, and 
drawing near to Ahab’s arm. 
“Avast!” roared Ahab, dashing him against the bulwarks — “Man 
the boat! Which way heading?” 
“Good God!” cried the English captain, to whom the question was 
