Moby Dick by Herman Melville

By imaginator1D

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Moby-Dick; or, The Whale is a novel by Herman Melville, in which Ishmael narrates the monomaniacal quest of A... More

Chapter 1: Loomings
Chapter 2: The Carpet-Bag
Chapter 3: The Spouter-Inn
Chapter 4: The Counterpane
Chapter 5: Breakfast
Chapter 6: The Street
Chapter 7: The Chapel
Chapter 8: The Pulpit
Chapter 9: The Sermon
Chapter 10: A Bosom Friend
Chapter 12: Biographical
Chapter 13: Wheelbarrow
Chapter 14: Nantucket
Chapter 15: Chowder
Chapter 16: The Ship
Chapter 17: The Ramadan
Chapter 18: His Mark
Chapter 19: The Prophet
Chapter 20: All Astir
Chapter 21: Going Aboard
Chapter 22: Merry Christmas
Chapter 23: The Lee Shore
Chapter 24: The Advocate
Chapter 25: Postscript
Chapter 26: Knights & Squires
Chapter 27: Knights & Squires
Chapter 28: Ahab
Chapter 29: Enter Ahab; To Him, Stubb
Chapter 30: The Pipe
Chapter 31: Queen Mab
Chapter 32: Cetology
Chapter 33: The Specksnyder
Chapter 34: The Cabin-Tale
Chapter 35: The Mast-Head
Chapter 36: The Quarter-Deck
Chapter 37: Sunset
Chapter 38: Dusk
Chapter 39: First Night-Watch
Chapter 40: Midnight, Forecastle
Chapter 41: Moby Dick
Chapter 42: The Whiteness of the Whale
Chapter 43: Hark!
Chapter 44: The Chart
Chapter 45: The Affidavit
Chapter 46: Surmises
Chapter 47: The Mat-Maker
Chapter 48: The First Lowering
Chapter 49: The Hyena
CHAPTER 50: Ahab's Boat and Crew.
Chapter 51: The Spirit-Spout
Chapter 52: The Albatross
Chapter 53: The Gam
Chapter 54: The Town-Ho's Story
Chapter 55: Of the Monstrous Pictures of Whales
Ch. 56: Of the Less Erroneous Pictures of Whales, & True Pictures of Whaling
Ch. 57: Of Whales in Paint; in Teeth; in Wood; in Sheet-Iron; in Stone
Chapter 58: Brit
Chapter 59: Squid
Chapter 60: The Line
Chapter 61: Stubb Kills a Whale
Chapter 62: The Dart
Chapter 63: The Crotch
Chapter 64: Stubb's Supper
Chapter 65: The Whale as a Dish
Chapter 66: The Shark Massacre
Chapter 67: Cutting In
Chapter 68: The Blanket
Chapter 69: The Funeral
Chapter 70: The Sphynx
Chapter 71: The Jeroboam's Story
Chapter 72: The Monkey-Rope
Ch. 73: Stubb and Flask kill a Right Whale; and Then Have a Talk over Him
Chapter 74: The Sperm Whale's Head-Contrasted View
Chapter 75: The Right Whale's Head-Contrasted View
Chapter 76: The Battering-Ram
Chapter 77: The Great Heidelburgh Tun
Chapter 78: Cistern and Buckets
Chapter 79: The Prairie
Chapter 80: The Nut
Chapter 81: The Pequod Meets The Virgin
Chapter 82: The Honor & Glory of Whaling
Chapter 83: Jonah Historically Regarded
Chapter 84: Pitchpoling
Chapter 85: The Fountain
Chapter 86: The Tail
Chapter 87: The Grand Armada
Chapter 88: Schools and Schoolmasters
Chapter 89: Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish
Chapter 90: Heads or Tails
Chapter 91: The Pequod Meets The Rose-Bud
Chapter 92: Ambergris
Chapter 93: The Castaway
Chapter 94: A Squeeze of the Hand
Chapter 95: The Cassock
Chapter 96: The Try-Works
Chapter 97: The Lamp
Chapter 98: Stowing Down and Clearing Up
Chapter 99: The Doubloon
Chapter 100: Leg and Arm
Chapter 101: The Decanter
Chapter 102: A Bower in the Arsacides
Chapter 103: Measurement of The Whale's Skeleton
Chapter 104: The Fossil Whale
Chapter 106: Ahab's Leg
Chapter 107: The Carpenter.
Chapter 108: Ahab and the Carpenter.
Chapter 109: Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin
Chapter 110: Queequeg in His Coffin
Chapter 111: The Pacific
Chapter 112: The Blacksmith
Chapter 113: The Forge
Chapter 114: The Gilder
Chapter 115: The Pequod Meets The Bachelor
Chapter 116: The Dying Whale
Chapter 117: The Whale Watch
Chapter 118: The Quadrant
Chapter 119: The Candles
Ch. 120: The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch
Chapter 121: Midnight.-The Forecastle Bulwarks
Ch. 122: Midnight Aloft.-Thunder and Lightning
Chapter 123: The Musket
Chapter 124: The Needle
Chapter 125: The Log and Line
Chapter 126: The Life-Buoy
Chapter 127: The Deck
Chapter 128: The Pequod Meets The Rachel
Chapter 129: The Cabin
Chapter 130: The Hat
Chapter 131: The Pequod Meets The Delight
Chapter 132: The Symphony
Chapter 133: The Chase-First Day
Chapter 134: The Chase-Second Day
Chapter 135: The Chase.-Third Day
Epilogue

Chapter 11: Nightgown

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By imaginator1D

We had lain thus in bed, chatting and napping at short intervals, and Queequeg now and then affectionately throwing his brown tattooed legs over mine, and then drawing them back; so entirely sociable and free and easy were we; when, at last, by reason of our confabulations, what little nappishness remained in us altogether departed, and we felt like getting up again, though day-break was yet some way down the future.

Yes, we became very wakeful; so much so that our recumbent position began to grow wearisome, and by little and little we found ourselves sitting up; the clothes well tucked around us, leaning against the head-board with our four knees drawn up close together, and our two noses bending over them, as if our kneepans were warming-pans. We felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.

We had been sitting in this crouching manner for some time, when all at once I thought I would open my eyes; for when between sheets, whether by day or by night, and whether asleep or awake, I have a way of always keeping my eyes shut, in order the more to concentrate the snugness of being in bed. Because no man can ever feel his own identity aright except his eyes be closed; as if darkness were indeed the proper element of our essences, though light be more congenial to our clayey part. Upon opening my eyes then, and coming out of my own pleasant and self-created darkness into the imposed and coarse outer gloom of the unilluminated twelve-o'clock-at-night, I experienced a disagreeable revulsion. Nor did I at all object to the hint from Queequeg that perhaps it were best to strike a light, seeing that we were so wide awake; and besides he felt a strong desire to have a few quiet puffs from his Tomahawk. Be it said, that though I had felt such a strong repugnance to his smoking in the bed the night before, yet see how elastic our stiff prejudices grow when love once comes to bend them. For now I liked nothing better than to have Queequeg smoking by me, even in bed, because he seemed to be full of such serene household joy then. I no more felt unduly concerned for the landlord's policy of insurance. I was only alive to the condensed confidential comfortableness of sharing a pipe and a blanket with a real friend. With our shaggy jackets drawn about our shoulders, we now passed the Tomahawk from one to the other, till slowly there grew over us a blue hanging tester of smoke, illuminated by the flame of the new-lit lamp.

Whether it was that this undulating tester rolled the savage away to far distant scenes, I know not, but he now spoke of his native island; and, eager to hear his history, I begged him to go on and tell it. He gladly complied. Though at the time I but ill comprehended not a few of his words, yet subsequent disclosures, when I had become more familiar with his broken phraseology, now enable me to present the whole story such as it may prove in the mere skeleton I give.

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