The Prophet

           Shipmates,haveyeshippedinthatship?"

           QueequegandIhadjustleftthePequod,andweresaunteringfromthewater,forthemomenteachoccupiedwithhisownthoughts,whentheabovewordswereputtousbyastranger,who,pausingbeforeus,levelledhismassiveforefingeratthevesselinquestion.Hewasbutshabbilyapparelledinfadedjacketandpatchedtrowsers;aragofablackhandkerchiefinvestinghisneck.Aconfluentsmallpoxhadinalldirectionsflowedoverhisface,andleftitlikethecomplicatedribbedbedofatorrent,whentherushingwatershavebeendriedup.

           "Haveyeshippedinher?"herepeated.

           "YoumeantheshipPequod,Isuppose,"saidI,tryingtogainalittlemoretimeforanuninterruptedlookathim.

           "Aye,thePequodthatshipthere,"hesaid,drawingbackhiswholearmandthenrapidlyshovingitstraightoutfromhim-,withthefixedbayonetofhispointedfingerdartedfullattheobject.

           "Yes,"saidI,"wehavejustsignedthearticles."

           "Anythingdownthereaboutyoursouls?"

           "Aboutwhat?"

           "Oh,perhapsyouhav’n’tgotany,"hesaidquickly."Nomatterthough,Iknowmanychapsthathav’n’tgotanygoodluckto‘em;andtheyareallthebetteroffforit.Asoul’sasortofafifthwheeltoawagon."

           "Whatareyoujabberingabout,shipmate?"saidI.

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