Ishmael was now introduced to another owner of the Pequod, Captain Bildad.

“Now Bildad, like Peleg, and indeed many other Nantucketeers, was a Quaker, the island having been originally settled by that sect; and to this day its inhabitants in general retain in an uncommon measure the peculiarities of the Quaker, only variously and anomalously modified by things altogether alien and heterogeneous. For some of these same Quakers are the most sanguinary of all sailors and whale-hunters. They are fighting Quakers; they are Quakers with a vengeance.

“Still, for all this immutableness, was there some lack of common consistency about worthy Captain Bildad. Though refusing, from conscientious scruples, to bear arms against land invaders, yet himself had illimitably invaded the Atlantic and Pacific; and though a sworn foe to human bloodshed, yet had he in his straight-bodied coat, spilled tuns upon tuns of leviathan gore…His own person was the exact embodiment of his utilitarian character. On his long gaunt body he carried no spare flesh, no superfluous beard, his chin having a soft, economical nap to it, like the worn nap of his broad-brimmed hat.”

After a ritualistic and even comic bidding over Ishmael’s share of the voyage proceeds, in which the two owners dickered for and against the young fellow’s interest, his share was reduced from the first mentioned 275th lay to the 300th lay, a tiny measure of a gory fortune, representing over a year’s work at sea for a captain and crew.

Having signed on to voyage for the 300th lay, Ishmael now inquired about the sailing captain, Captain Ahab, saying that he would like to see him.

Captain Peleg answered, “But I don’t think thou wilt be able to at present. I don’t know exactly what’s the matter with him; but he keeps close inside his house; a sort of sick, and yet he don’t look so. In fact, he ain’t sick; but no, he isn’t well either. Anyhow, young man, he won’t always see me, so I don’t suppose he will see thee. He’s a queer man, Captain Ahab—so some think—but a good one. Oh, thou ‘lt like him well enough; no fear. No fear. He’s a grand, ungodly, god-like man, Captain Ahab; doesn’t speak much; but, when he does speak, then you may well listen. Mark ye, be forewarned; Ahab’s above the common; Ahab’s been in colleges, as well as ‘mong the cannibals; been used to deeper wonders than the waves; fixed his fiery lance in mightier, stranger foes than whales. His lance! Ay, the keenest and the surest that out of all our isle! Oh! He ain’t Captain Bildad; no, and he ain’t Captain Peleg; he’s Ahab, boy; and Ahab of old, thou knowest, was a crowned king!”

“And a very vile one. When that wicked king was slain, the dogs, did they not lick his blood?”

“…Look ye, lad; never say that on board the Pequod. Never say it anywhere. Captain Ahab did not name himself. ‘Twas a foolish, ignorant whim of his crazy widowed mother, who died when he was only a twelvemonth old. And yet the old sqaw Tistig, at Gay Head, said that the name would somehow prove prophetic. And perhaps other fools like her tell thee the same. I wish to warn thee. It’s a lie. I know captain Ahab well; I’ve sailed with him as mate years ago; I know what he is—a good man—not a pious, good man, like Bildad, but a swearing good man—something like me—only there’s a good deal more to him…he happens to have a wicked name. Besides, my boy, he has a wife—not three voyages wedded—a sweet, resigned girl. Think of that; by that sweet girl that old man has a child: hold ye then there can be any utter, hopeless harm in Ahab? No, no my lad; stricken, blasted, if he be, Ahab has his humanities!”

As Ishmael walked away he was full of thoughts about Ahab, his nature, and his plight, feeling somewhat in awe of the man—as yet unmet—that he was about to sail under.