His Mark

           Aswewerewalkingdowntheendofthewharftowardstheship,Queequegcarryinghisharpoon,CaptainPeleginhisgruffvoiceloudlyhailedusfromhiswigwam,sayinghehadnotsuspectedmyfriendwasacannibal,andfurthermoreannouncingthatheletnocannibalsonboardthatcraft,unlesstheypreviouslyproducedtheirpapers.

           "Whatdoyoumeanbythat,CaptainPeleg?"saidI,nowjumpingonthebulwarks,andleavingmycomradestandingonthewharf.

           "Imean,"hereplied,"hemustshowhispapers."

           "Yes,"saidCaptainBildadinhishollowvoice,stickinghisheadfrombehindPeleg’s,outofthewigwam."Hemustshowthathe’sconverted.Sonofdarkness,"headded,turningtoQueequeg,"artthouatpresentincommunionwithanyChristianchurch?"

           "Why,"saidI,"he’samemberofthefirstCongregationalChurch."Herebeitsaid,thatmanytattooedsavagessailinginNantucketshipsatlastcometobeconvertedintothechurches.

           "FirstCongregationalChurch,"criedBildad,"what!thatworshipsinDeaconDeuteronomyColeman’smeeting-house?"andsosaying,takingouthisspectacles,herubbedthemwithhisgreatyellowbandanahandkerchief,andputtingthemonverycarefully,cameoutofthewigwam,andleaningstifflyoverthebulwarks,tookagoodlonglookatQueequeg.

           "Howlonghathhebeenamember?"hethensaid,turningtome;"notverylong,Iratherguess,youngman."

           "No,"saidPeleg,"andhehasn’tbeenbaptizedrighteither,oritwouldhavewashedsomeofthatdevil’sblueoffhisface."

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