“Sink him!  I never look at him at all; but if ever I get a chance of a dark night, and he standing hard by the bulwarks, and no one by; look down there, Flask”—­pointing into the sea with a peculiar motion of both hands—­“Aye, will I!  Flask, I take that Fedallah to be the devil in disguise.  Do you believe that cock and bull story about his having been stowed away on board ship?  He’s the devil, I say.  The reason why you don’t see his tail, is because he tucks it up out of sight; he carries it coiled away in his pocket, I guess.  Blast him! now that I think of it, he’s always wanting oakum to stuff into the toes of his boots.”

“He sleeps in his boots, don’t he?  He hasn’t got any hammock; but I’ve seen him lay of nights in a coil of rigging.”

“No doubt, and it’s because of his cursed tail; he coils it down, do ye see, in the eye of the rigging.”

“What’s the old man have so much to do with him for?”

“Striking up a swap or a bargain, I suppose.”

“Bargain?—­about what?”

“Why, do ye see, the old man is hard bent after that White Whale, and the devil there is trying to come round him, and get him to swap away his silver watch, or his soul, or something of that sort, and then he’ll surrender Moby Dick.”

“Pooh!  Stubb, you are skylarking; how can Fedallah do that?”

“I don’t know, Flask, but the devil is a curious chap, and a wicked one, I tell ye.  Why, they say as how he went a sauntering into the old flag-ship once, switching his tail about devilish easy and gentlemanlike, and inquiring if the old governor was at home.  Well, he was at home, and asked the devil what he wanted.  The devil, switching his hoofs, up and says, ‘I want John.’  ‘What for?’ says the old governor.  ‘What business is that of yours,’ says the devil, getting mad,—­’I want to use him.’  ‘Take him,’ says the governor—­ and by the Lord, Flask, if the devil didn’t give John the Asiatic cholera before he got through with him, I’ll eat this whale in one mouthful.  But look sharp—­ain’t you all ready there?  Well, then, pull ahead, and let’s get the whale alongside.”

“I think I remember some such story as you were telling,” said Flask, when at last the two boats were slowly advancing with their burden towards the ship, “but I can’t remember where.”

“Three Spaniards?  Adventures of those three bloody-minded soldadoes?  Did ye read it there, Flask?  I guess ye did?”

“No:  never saw such a book; heard of it, though.  But now, tell me, Stubb, do you suppose that that devil you was speaking of just now, was the same you say is now on board the Pequod?”

“Am I the same man that helped kill this whale?  Doesn’t the devil live for ever; who ever heard that the devil was dead?  Did you ever see any parson a wearing mourning for the devil?  And if the devil has a latch-key to get into the admiral’s cabin, don’t you suppose he can crawl into a porthole?  Tell me that, Mr. Flask?”