Queequeg caught one of these young saplings mimicking him behind
his back. I thought the bumpkin's hour of doom was come.
Dropping his harpoon, the brawny savage caught him in his arms,
and by an almost miraculous dexterity and strength, sent him high up
bodily into the air; then slightly tapping his stern in mid-somerset,
the fellow landed with bursting lungs upon his feet, while Queequeg,
turning his back upon him, lighted his tomahawk pipe and passed it
to me for a puff.
"Capting! Capting! yelled the bumpkin, running toward that officer;
"Capting, Capting, here's the devil."
"Hallo, you sir," cried the Captain, a gaunt rib of the sea,
stalking up to Queequeg, "what in thunder do you mean by that?
Don't you know you might have killed that chap?"
"What him say?" said Queequeg, as he mildly turned to me.
"He say," said I, "that you came near kill-e that man there,"
pointing to the still shivering greenhorn.
"Kill-e," cried Queequeg, twisting his tattooed face into an
unearthly expression of disdain, "ah! him bevy small-e fish-e;
Queequeg no kill-e so small-e fish-e; Queequeg kill-e big whale!"
"Look you," roared the Captain, "I'll kill-e you, you cannibal,
if you try any more of your tricks aboard here; so mind your eye.
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