- description
- # Chapter 112
## Overview
This entity is Chapter 112 of the novel [Moby Dick; Or, The Whale](arke:01KFNR81RMVAX2BBMMBW51V97D), a literary chapter containing 37 lines of narrative text (lines 1930–1966 in the source file). It forms part of the larger structure of Herman Melville’s 1851 whaling epic and follows Chapter 115 in the sequence. The chapter is included in the [Moby Dick](arke:01KFNR0H0Q791Y1SMZWEQ09FGV) collection, derived from the source file *moby-dick.txt*.
## Context
Situated late in the novel, this chapter continues the narrative aboard the *Pequod*, focusing on the social dynamics among the crew during a breakfast scene. It directly follows reflections on the diverse appearances and backgrounds of whalemen ashore in New Bedford, as introduced in preceding chapters such as [Chapter 6. The Street](arke:01KFNR849KZ90ZV66B8PZ5N95M). The chapter builds on earlier characterizations of Queequeg, the Polynesian harpooneer, whose cultural otherness and quiet dignity contrast with the awkwardness of the supposedly "civilized" sailors.
## Contents
The chapter explores the irony of seasoned whalemen—fearless in battle with whales—displaying shyness and embarrassment at a communal breakfast table. The narrator observes their sheepish behavior despite their shared profession and experiences. In sharp contrast, Queequeg remains utterly composed, sitting at the head of the table and using his harpoon to spear beefsteaks, an act the narrator wryly notes as “cool” and therefore, in societal terms, “genteel.” The passage underscores themes of civility, performance, and cultural relativism, portraying Queequeg’s unselfconscious authenticity as superior to the constrained manners of his peers. The chapter ends with Queequeg calmly smoking his tomahawk-pipe, hat on, while the narrator departs for a stroll.
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- 2026-01-23T15:46:04.457Z
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- description_title
- Chapter 112
- end_line
- 1966
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-23T15:41:00.633Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1930
- text
- 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.
- title
- 112