Bab Bab 5 · Breakfast.

I quickly followed suit, and descending into the bar-room accosted the

grinning landlord very pleasantly. I cherished no malice towards him,

though he had been skylarking with me not a little in the matter of my

bedfellow.

However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce a

good thing; the more’s the pity. So, if any one man, in his own proper

person, afford stuff for a good joke to anybody, let him not be

backward, but let him cheerfully allow himself to spend and be spent in

that way. And the man that has anything bountifully laughable about

him, be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.

The bar-room was now full of the boarders who had been dropping in the

night previous, and whom I had not as yet had a good look at. They were

nearly all whalemen; chief mates, and second mates, and third mates,

and sea carpenters, and sea coopers, and sea blacksmiths, and

harpooneers, and ship keepers; a brown and brawny company, with bosky

beards; an unshorn, shaggy set, all wearing monkey jackets for morning

gowns.

You could pretty plainly tell how long each one had been ashore. This

young fellow’s healthy cheek is like a sun-toasted pear in hue, and

would seem to smell almost as musky; he cannot have been three days

landed from his Indian voyage. That man next him looks a few shades

lighter; you might say a touch of satin wood is in him. In the

complexion of a third still lingers a tropic tawn, but slightly

bleached withal; _he_ doubtless has tarried whole weeks ashore. But who

could show a cheek like Queequeg? which, barred with various tints,

seemed like the Andes’ western slope, to show forth in one array,

contrasting climates, zone by zone.

“Grub, ho!” now cried the landlord, flinging open a door, and in we

went to breakfast.

They say that men who have seen the world, thereby become quite at ease

in manner, quite self-possessed in company. Not always, though:

Ledyard, the great New England traveller, and Mungo Park, the Scotch

one; of all men, they possessed the least assurance in the parlor. But

perhaps the mere crossing of Siberia in a sledge drawn by dogs as

Ledyard did, or the taking a long solitary walk on an empty stomach, in

the negro heart of Africa, which was the sum of poor Mungo’s

performances—this kind of travel, I say, may not be the very best mode

of attaining a high social polish. Still, for the most part, that sort

of thing is to be had anywhere.

These reflections just here are occasioned by the circumstance that

after we were all seated at the table, and I was preparing to hear some

good stories about whaling; to my no small surprise, nearly every man

maintained a profound silence. And not only that, but they looked

embarrassed. Yes, here were a set of sea-dogs, many of whom without the

slightest bashfulness had boarded great whales on the high seas—entire

strangers to them—and duelled them dead without winking; and yet, here

they sat at a social breakfast table—all of the same calling, all of

kindred tastes—looking round as sheepishly at each other as though they

had never been out of sight of some sheepfold among the Green

Mountains. A curious sight; these bashful bears, these timid warrior

whalemen!

But as for Queequeg—why, Queequeg sat there among them—at the head of

the table, too, it so chanced; as cool as an icicle. To be sure I

cannot say much for his breeding. His greatest admirer could not have

cordially justified his bringing his harpoon into breakfast with him,

and using it there without ceremony; reaching over the table with it,

to the imminent jeopardy of many heads, and grappling the beefsteaks

towards him. But _that_ was certainly very coolly done by him, and

every one knows that in most people’s estimation, to do anything coolly

is to do it genteelly.

We will not speak of all Queequeg’s peculiarities here; how he eschewed

coffee and hot rolls, and applied his undivided attention to

beefsteaks, done rare. Enough, that when breakfast was over he withdrew

like the rest into the public room, lighted his tomahawk-pipe, and was

sitting there quietly digesting and smoking with his inseparable hat

on, when I sallied out for a stroll.