Ishmael and Queequeg traded the embalmed head to the barber for a block, paid their bill from their now joint funds, and set out as a company of two on Ishmael’s life adventure.

“We borrowed a wheelbarrow, and embarking our things, including my own poor carpet-bag, and Queequeg’s canvas sack and hammock, away we went down to the Moss, the little Nantucket schooner moored at the wharf. As we were going along the people stared; not at Queequeg so much—for they were used to seeing cannibals like him in their streets,—but at seeing him and me upon such confidential terms.”

Ishmael notes Queequeg’s concern over his harpoon and harpoon heads and is treated to an explanation of the importance of caring for one’s own weapon as well as a story of his father, sister and high priest on his home island.

Onboard the Moss they glided down the Acushnet river.

“On one side, New Bedford rose in terraces of streets, their ice-covered trees all glittering in the clear, cold air. Huge hills and mountains of casks on casks were piled upon her wharves, and side by side the world-wandering whale-ships layed silent and safely moored at last; while from others came a sound of carpenters and coopers, with blended noises of fires and forges to melt the pitch, all betokening that new cruises were on the start; that one perilous and long voyage ended, only begins a second; and a second ended, only begins a third, and so on, forever and aye. Such is the endless, yea, the intolerableness of all earthly effort.”

“Gaining the more open water, the bracing breeze waxed fresh; the little Moss tossed the quick foam from her bows, as a young colt his snortings. How I snuffed that Tartar air!—how I spurned that turnpike earth!—that common highway all over dented with the marks of slavish heels and hoofs: and turned me to admire the magnanimity of the sea which will permit no records.”

“…So full of the reeling scene were we, as we stood by the plunging bowsprit, that for some time we did not notice the jeering glances of the passengers, a lubber-like assembly, who marveled that two fellow-beings should be so companionable; as though a white man were anything more than a whitewashed negro.”

Noticing the men making fun of him Queequeg grabbed one, tossed him in the air, and caught him, setting him down unharmed. The call then went up from ‘the bumpkin’ to the captain, who suggested sternly that Queequeg ‘might have killed the chap.’ Queequeg, expressed disdain for the killing of a man so small, that he wanted to kill a whale.

“‘Look you,’ the captain roared, ‘I’ll kill-e you, you cannibal, if you try any more of your tricks aboard here; so mind your eye.’”

No sooner had the captain said these words then the rigging knocked the chap Queequeg had been funning with overboard, and, while the land-lubbers looked on hopelessly—swimming at this time not even being a common skill among sailors—Queequeg dove in and saved him. The captain and the rest thought it was a magnificent act of heroics, but Queequeg seemed to regard it as being all in a day’s work, giving Ishmael some insight into what his year on a whale-ship might be like.

“He only asked for water—fresh water—something to wipe the brine off; that done, he put on dry clothes, lighted his pipe, and leaning against the bulwarks, and mildly eying those around him, seemed to be saying to himself—‘It’s a mutual joint-stock world, in all meridians. We cannibals must help these Christians.’”