Ahab's Adventure's In Wonderland; or The Rabbit

Chapter Ten

As we walked along, we concocted our plans for the morrow. But to my surprise and no small concern, Franklin now gave me to understand, that he had been diligently consulting Yojo--the name of his black little god-- and Yojo had told him two or three times over, and strongly insisted upon it everyway, that instead of our going together among the fields around New Bedford, and in concert selecting our farmstead; instead of this, I say, Yojo earnestly enjoined that the selection of the farm should rest wholly with me, inasmuch as Yojo purposed befriending us; and, in order to do so, had already pitched upon a farm, which, if left to myself, I, Ishmael, should infallibly light upon, for all the world as though it had turned out by chance; and in that farm I must immediately employ myself, for the present irrespective of Franklin.

I have forgotten to mention that, in many things, Franklin placed great confidence in the excellence of Yojo's judgment and surprising forecast of things; and cherished Yojo with considerable esteem, as a rather good sort of god, who perhaps meant well enough upon the whole, but in all cases did not succeed in his benevolent designs.

Now, this plan of Franklin's or rather Yojo's, touching the selection of our workplace; I did not like that plan at all. I had not a little relied on Franklin's sagacity to point out the plantation best fitted to house us and our fortunes securely. But as all my remonstrances produced no effect upon Franklin, I was obliged to acquiesce; and accordingly prepared to set about this business with a determined rushing sort of energy and vigor, that should quickly settle that trifling little affair. Next morning early, leaving Franklin shut up with Yojo in our little bedroom--for it seemed that it was some sort of Lent or Ramadan, or day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer with Franklin and Yojo that day; how it was I never could find out, for, though I applied myself to it several times, I never could master his liturgies and XXXIX Articles-- leaving Franklin, then, fasting on his pipe, and Yojo warming himself at his sacrificial fire of shavings, I sallied out among the fields. After much prolonged sauntering, and many random inquiries, I learnt that there were farms looking for hands--each known by a strange moniker: The Devil-Dam, the Tit-bit, and the Pequod. Devil-dam, I do not know the origin of; Tit-bit is obvious; Pequod you will no doubt remember, was the name of a celebrated tribe of Massachusetts Indians; now extinct as the ancient Medes. I peered and pryed about Devil-Dam; from her, hopped over to Tit-bit; and finally, visiting at Pequod, looked around for a moment, and then decided that this was the very place for us.

You may have seen many a quaint farmhouse in your day, for aught I know, but take my word for it, you never saw such a rare old place as this same rare old Pequod. She was a farm of the old school, rather small if anything; with an old-fashioned look about her. Her venerable eaves looked bearded. Her boards had once been Massachusetts old growth and had probably been built by the pilgrims themselves. Her ancient planks were worn and wrinkled. But to all these her old antiquities, were added new and marvellous features, pertaining to the wild business that for more than half a century she had followed. Old Peleg, many years her owner, before he bought another farmstead of his own, and now retired and one of the principal owners of Pequod,--this old Peleg, during the term of his landlordship, had built upon her original grotesqueness, and inlaid it, all over, with a quaintness both of material and device, unmatched by anything except it be Thorkill-Hake's carved buckler or bedstead. She was apparelled like any barbaric Ethiopian emperor, his neck heavy with pendants of polished ivory. She was a thing of trophies. A cannibal of a house, tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies. All round, her unpanelled, open windows and doors were garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the jackrabbit. A noble house, but somehow a most melancholy! All noble things are touched with that.

Now when I looked about the yard, for some one having authority, in order to propose myself as a candidate for employment, at first I saw nobody; but I could not well overlook a strange sort of tent, or rather wigwam, pitched a little behind the main house. It was of a conical shape, some ten feet high. Planted with their broad ends on the deck, a circle of slabs laced together, mutually sloped towards each other, and at the apex united in a tufted point, where the loose hairy fibres waved to and fro like a top-knot on some old Pottowotamie Sachem's head. A triangular opening faced towards the front of the house and the barn, so that the insider commanded a complete view.