|Age Range(s)||Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50)|
|Type of monologue / Character is||Angry, Descriptive, Lamenting, Frustrated, Insecure, Afraid|
|Genre||Action, Drama, Adventure|
|Description||Stubb is upset because Ahab has mistreated him|
|Location||Chapter 29: Enter Ahab; To Him, Stubb|
The narrator of story is Ishmael, a young sailor who decides to work on a whaling ship. Together with another man, Queequeg, he boards the ship "Pequod", a whaling ship that is soon to leave port. The ship's captain, nowhere to be seen, is Ahab, who has lost a leg in an encounter with a sperm whale. Ahab finally comes out of his cabin after a few days of sailing. A tough and mysterious character, he is the dictator of the ship. He constantly paces the deck making a lot of noise as he hits the wood with his prosthetic leg. Stubb, a funny and easygoing mate of the ship, dares to complain to Ahab about the noise. Ahab calls him a "dog", a "donkey" and a "mule" and advances on him as he wants to strike him. Stubb retreats and mutters to himself that he has never retreated in a situation like that. He wonders what to do, if go back and strike him or just pray for him. He then ponders about captain Ahab's mysterious personality.
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|STUBB: I was never served so before without giving a hard blow for it. It's very queer. Stop, Stubb; somehow, now, I don't well know whether to go back and strike him, or--what's that?--down here on my knees and pray for him? Yes, that was the thought coming up in me; but it would be the first time I ever DID pray. It's queer; very queer; and he's queer too; aye, take him fore and aft, he's about the queerest old man Stubb ever sailed with. How he flashed at me!--his eyes like powder-pans! is he mad? Anyway there's something on his mind, as sure as there must be something on a deck when it cracks. He aint in his bed now, either, more than three hours out of the twenty-four; and he don't sleep then. Didn't that Dough-Boy, the steward, tell me that of a morning he always finds the old man's hammock clothes all rumpled and tumbled, and the sheets down at the foot, and the coverlid almost tied into knots, and the pillow a sort of frightful hot, as though a baked brick had been on it? A hot old man! I guess he's got what some folks ashore call a conscience; it's a kind of Tic-Dolly-row they say--worse nor a toothache. Well, well; I don't know what it is, but the Lord keep me from catching it. He's full of riddles; I wonder what he goes into the after hold for, every night, as Dough-Boy tells me he suspects; what's that for, I should like to know? Who's made appointments with him in the hold? Ain't that queer, now? But there's no telling, it's the old game--Here goes for a snooze. Damn me, it's worth a fellow's while to be born into the world, if only to fall right asleep. And now that I think of it, that's about the first thing babies do, and that's a sort of queer, too. Damn me, but all things are queer, come to think of 'em. But that's against my principles. Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth--So here goes again. But how's that? didn't he call me a dog? blazes! he called me ten times a donkey, and piled a lot of jackasses on top of THAT! He might as well have kicked me, and done with it. Maybe he DID kick me, and I didn't observe it, I was so taken all aback with his brow, somehow. It flashed like a bleached bone. What the devil's the matter with me? I don't stand right on my legs. Coming afoul of that old man has a sort of turned me wrong side out. By the Lord, I must have been dreaming, though--How? how? how?--but the only way's to stash it; so here goes to hammock again; and in the morning, I'll see how this plaguey juggling thinks over by daylight.|