Chapter 5 Breakfast

Abridged Text, followed by by Abridger Notes, followed by multimedia, followed by Original Text with deletions.

 

Chapter 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. 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, 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.

 

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. 

 

Link to Chapter 6 The Street.

Abridger Notes

 

I most like Ishmael’s surprise at the apparent shyness and quiet of the large number of boarders eating in a social setting, particularly this crew of adventurers. In Chapter 3 I get a chuckle from Peter Coffin’s comment that Queequeg likes (nothing but?) beef steaks, which is affirmed here with a visualization of Queequeg pulling the steaks across the table with his harpoon. I removed the last paragraph from the original, but I like it, particularly a statement about not speaking of peculiarities, and then doing so, and the final image of domestic tranquility.

 

“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.”

 

In the Devouring a Whale blog, Andrew Bevington suggests a focus on food in the shore-side part of the novel. I'm drawn to it too, recalling an extended hospital stay in which even hospital food, in teeny, tiny bites, was something to look forward too.

 

Multimedia Chapter 5 Breakfast

I thought this would be a good place to try out AI, ChatGPT 4o in particular. I prompted it with this.

"Please create a oil-painting like image of the breakfast scene from Chapter 5 of Moby Dick, showing the quiet, subdued sailors at a long table, intently eating, and with Queequeg at the far end of the table using his harpoon to bring a plate of beefsteaks closer to him."

ChatGPT4o responded with the image below. Overall, this is a decent first attempt. The dress and appearence of the sailors seems reasonable, if not a bit too uniform, and the AI brings some other background knowledge that informs the picture, notably about Queequeg's tatoos, but its not a faithful to the novel in other ways -- Queequeg isn't bald in this rendition, and he has lots of facial hair too. This is not as it should be, and I am trying to be fair in my criticism since I was forever influenced by the 1956 movie as to what Queequeg looks like. Nor is Queequeg doing what I asked that he do -- he isn't reaching for beefsteaks. In fact, he seems to be showing off his biceps and smooth, shaved, movie star flesh for the camera rather than retrieving steaks with what looks like a dysfunctional curved harpoon. I worked with AI more on this, eventually asking it to remove Queequeg entirely. AI, notably generative AI of today, is as a smart person is, who has gotten away too long with cursory assessments and understandings of situations, and acted on them reflexively without going to a "lower layer" -- see Chapter 36 (Beige Moth Blog) and Melanie Mitchell (advanced).

 

Original Chapter 5 Breakfast with deletions

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.