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The circumstance was this.

When I was a child, I well remember a somewhat similar circumstance that befell me; whether it was a reality or a dream, I never could entirely settle.

Let me try to explain them.

My sensations were strange.

Indeed, partly from lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I could hardly tell it from the quilt, they so blended their hues together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I could tell that Queequeg was hugging me.

The counterpane was of patchwork, full of odd little particoloured squares and triangles; and this arm of his tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth* of a figure, no two parts of which were of one precise shade -- owing I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in...

You had almost thought I had been his wife.

CHAPTER IV. The Counterpane. Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg's arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate manner.

I turned in, and never slept better in my life. ~~~~~~~~ And thus we end Chapter III. Guys, I can't thank you enough for this opportunity to go through Moby Dick and re-read that novel with you, and I'm sorry that it's gotta come to a close now. It's been fun, but I really should stop now...

"Good-night, landlord," said I, "you may go."

This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and again politely motioned me to get into bed -- rolling over to one side as much as to say -- I won't touch a leg of ye.

"Landlord," said I, "tell him to stash his tomahawk there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, and I will turn in with him. But I don't fancy a man smoking in bed with me. It's dangerous. Besides, I ain't insured."

Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.

What's all this fuss I have been making about, thought I to myself -- this man's a human being just as I am: he has just as much reason to fear me as I have to be afraid of him.

For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal.

I stood looking at him a moment.

He really did this in not only a civil but a really kind and charitable way.

"You gettee in," he added, motioning to me with his tomahawk, and throwing the clothes to one side.

"Me sabbee plenty" -- grunted Queequeg, puffing away at his pipe and sitting up in bed.

"I thought ye knew'd it; -- didn't I tell ye, he was a peddlin' heads around town? -- but turn flukes again and go to sleep. Queequeg, look here -- you sabbee me, I sabbee you -- this man sleepe you -- you sabbee?"