For a pious man, especially for a Quaker, he was certainly
rather hard-hearted, to say the least. He never used to swear,
though, at his men, they said; but somehow he got an inordinate
quantity of cruel, unmitigated hard work out of them.
When Bildad was a chief-mate, to have his drab-colored eye
intently looking at you, made you feel completely nervous,
till you could clutch something--a hammer or a marling-spike,
and go to work like mad, at something or other, never mind what.
Indolence and idleness perished from before him. 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.
Such, then, was the person that I saw seated on the transom
when I followed Captain Peleg down into the cabin.
The space between the decks was small; and there, bolt upright,
sat old Bildad, who always sat so, and never leaned, and this
to save his coat-tails. His broad-brim was placed beside him;
his legs were stiffly crossed; his drab vesture was buttoned
up to his chin; and spectacles on nose, he seemed absorbed
in reading from a ponderous volume.
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