第 三十一 章 · Queen Mab.

Next morning Stubb accosted Flask.

“Such a queer dream, King-Post, I never had. You know the old man’s

ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me with it; and when I 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 blazing 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. ‘Why,’ 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 frightened. Such a phiz! But, somehow, next moment I was

over the fright. ‘What am I about?’ says I at last. ‘And what business

is that of yours, I should like to know, Mr. Humpback? Do _you_ want a

kick?’ By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said that, than he turned

round his stern 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 saying 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 insult. Captain Ahab kicked ye, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’

says I—‘right _here_ it was.’ ‘Very good,’ says he—‘he used his ivory

leg, didn’t he?’ ‘Yes, he did,’ says I. ‘Well then,’ says he, ‘wise

Stubb, what have you to complain of? Didn’t he kick with right good

will? it wasn’t a common pitch pine leg he kicked with, was it? No, you

were kicked by a great man, and with a beautiful ivory leg, Stubb. It’s

an honor; I consider it an honor. Listen, wise Stubb. In old England

the greatest lords think it great glory to be slapped by a queen, and

made garter-knights of; but, be _your_ boast, Stubb, that ye were

kicked by old Ahab, and made a wise man of. Remember what I say; _be_

kicked by him; account his kicks honors; and on no account kick back;

for you can’t help yourself, wise Stubb. Don’t you see that pyramid?’

With that, he all of a sudden seemed somehow, in some queer fashion, to

swim off into the air. I snored; rolled over; and there I was in my

hammock! Now, what do you think of that dream, Flask?”

“I don’t know; it seems a sort of foolish to me, tho.’”

“May be; may be. But it’s made a wise man of me, Flask. D’ye see Ahab

standing there, sideways looking over the stern? Well, the best thing

you can do, Flask, is to let the old man alone; never speak to him,

whatever he says. Halloa! What’s that he shouts? Hark!”

“Mast-head, there! Look sharp, all of ye! There are whales hereabouts!

“If ye see a white one, split your lungs for him!

“What do you think of that now, Flask? ain’t there a small drop of

something queer about that, eh? A white whale—did ye mark that, man?

Look ye—there’s something special in the wind. Stand by for it, Flask.

Ahab has that that’s bloody on his mind. But, mum; he comes this way.”