He commenced dressing at top by donning his beaver hat, a very tall one, by the by, and then—still minus his trowsers—he hunted up his boots. What under the heavens he did it for, Icannot tell, but his next movement was to crush himself—boots in hand, and hat on—underthe bed; when, from sundry violent gaspings and strainings, I inferred he was hard at workbooting himself; though by no law of propriety that I ever heard of, is any man required to beprivate when putting on his boots. But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transitionstage—neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off hisoutlandishness in the strangest possible manners. His education was not yet completed. He wasan undergraduate. If he had not been a small degree civilized, he very probably would not havetroubled himself with boots at all; but then, if he had not been still a savage, he never wouldhave dreamt of getting under the bed to put them on. At last, he emerged with his hat verymuch dented and crushed down over his eyes, and began creaking and limping about the room,as if, not being much accustomed to boots, his pair of damp, wrinkled cowhide ones—probablynot made to order either—rather pinched and tormented him at the first go off of a bitter coldmorning.
Seeing, now, that there were no curtains to the window, and that the street being very narrow,the house opposite commanded a plain view into the room, and observing more and more theindecorous figure that Queequeg made, staving about with little else but his hat and bootson; I begged him as well as I could, to accelerate his toilet somewhat, and particularly to getinto his pantaloons as soon as possible. He complied, and then proceeded to wash himself. Atthat time in the morning any Christian would have washed his face; but Queequeg, to myamazement, contented himself with restricting his ablutions to his chest, arms, and hands. Hethen donned his waistcoat, and taking up a piece of hard soap on the wash-stand centre table,dipped it into water and commenced lathering his face. I was watching to see where he kept hisrazor, when lo and behold, he takes the harpoon from the bed corner, slips out the longwooden stock, unsheathes the head, whets it a little on his boot, and striding up to the bit ofmirror against the wall, begins a vigorous scraping, or rather harpooning of his cheeks.