Queequeg was born on an island called Rokovoko, far away to the west and south. You will not find it on any map.
That is probably because the places that truly matter are rarely marked on maps.
When Queequeg was a young boy, he ran freely through the forests of his homeland wearing little more than a simple cloth around his waist. Goats followed him around, nibbling at the grass as if he were just another young plant growing in the jungle.
Even then, he dreamed of seeing more of the Christian world than the occasional foreign whaling ship.
Queequeg came from a powerful family. His father was the island’s High Chief, almost like a king. His uncle was the High Priest, and on his mother’s side, several of his aunts were married to famous warriors who had never been defeated.
There was certainly royal blood in Queequeg’s veins.
Unfortunately, he had also grown up with the cannibalistic traditions of his people.
One day, a ship from Sag Harbor arrived in his father’s bay.
Queequeg immediately wanted to go with the ship and visit the Christian lands.
But the captain already had a full crew.
“No,” the captain told him. “I have no room for another sailor.”
Queequeg would not accept that answer.
His father’s influence could not change the captain’s mind, so Queequeg made a decision of his own.
He would find a way onto that ship.
He took his canoe alone and paddled toward a narrow passage that he knew the ship would have to pass through when it left the island.
On one side was a coral reef. On the other was a low strip of land covered with mangrove trees that stretched out into the water.
Queequeg hid his canoe among the trees, leaving it floating with the front pointing toward the open sea.
Then he sat in the back of the canoe with his paddle resting quietly in his hands.
He waited.
When the ship finally came sailing past, Queequeg suddenly shot out from the mangroves like an arrow.
He reached the ship’s side, kicked his canoe backward with one powerful movement, and deliberately flipped it over.
Then he grabbed the chains, climbed aboard, threw himself flat onto the deck, and wrapped his arms around a ring-bolt.
He held on tightly.
“I am going with you,” he seemed to say with his actions. “You’ll have to cut me to pieces before I let go.”
The captain was furious.
“Get off my ship!”
Queequeg refused to move.
“I’ll throw you overboard!”
Still Queequeg held on.
The captain even raised a cutlass over Queequeg’s bare wrists, threatening to cut him loose by force.
But Queequeg did not flinch.
He was the son of a king, and he was not going to be frightened away.
At last, the captain was impressed by his courage and determination. He also understood how desperately the young man wanted to see the Christian world.
So the captain finally gave in.
“All right,” he said. “You can stay.”
But Queequeg never got the treatment of a prince.
He was sent down among the ordinary sailors and trained as a whaleman.
He accepted it without complaint.
In this way, he reminded me of Czar Peter, who was once willing to work in foreign shipyards like an ordinary laborer because he wanted to learn everything he could.
Queequeg was willing to suffer any humiliation if it meant learning something that could help his people.
That was his real purpose.
He wanted to learn from the Christians how to improve life in his homeland. He wanted his people to become happier, and even better, than they already were.
But his time among Christian whalemen taught him something he had never expected.
Christians were not always good people.
In fact, some of them were miserable, greedy, and cruel—far worse, he believed, than the supposedly uncivilized people back home.
Eventually, the ship reached old Sag Harbor.
Queequeg saw how the sailors behaved there.
Then he went on to Nantucket and saw how they spent their wages.
He had seen enough.
He finally gave up on the Christian world.
In his mind, the conclusion was simple:
“This is a wicked world everywhere. It doesn’t matter where you go. I’ll remain a pagan.”
And so, deep down, Queequeg remained a follower of his old religion.
He lived among Christians, wore their clothes, and tried to speak their strange language. That explained many of the unusual things about him, even though he had already been away from his homeland for quite some time.
I eventually found a way to ask him about returning home.
“Why don’t you go back?” I asked. “Your father must be dead by now. You could return and become king.”
Queequeg shook his head.
“Not yet.”
He explained that he was afraid Christianity—or rather, his experience with Christians—had changed him too much.
He wondered whether he was still worthy of sitting on the pure and untouched throne that had belonged to thirty pagan kings before him.
“But someday I will go back,” he said.
“When?”
“When I feel baptized again.”
For now, however, Queequeg had another plan.
He wanted to keep traveling.
He intended to sail across all four oceans and experience as much of the world as possible.
The Christians had turned him into a harpooner.
His harpoon was now his scepter.
I asked him what he planned to do next.
“Go to sea again,” he answered. “Same work as before.”
“That’s exactly what I want to do,” I told him. “I’m planning to become a whaleman too.”
I explained that I intended to sail from Nantucket because it was probably the best place for someone like me to find a whaling ship.
Queequeg immediately made up his mind.
“I’m going with you.”
“You are?”
“Yes. We’ll go to Nantucket together. We’ll join the same ship, stand the same watch, work in the same boat, and eat at the same table.”
He smiled.
“Wherever you go, I’ll go.”
I was delighted.
By then, I had already grown very fond of Queequeg. But there was another reason I was happy to have him with me.
He was an experienced harpooner.
I knew the sea fairly well from my time among merchant sailors, but I knew almost nothing about whaling.
Having a skilled harpooner beside me could only help.
When Queequeg finished his story, his pipe gave one last weak puff and went out.
He put his arms around me and pressed his forehead against mine.
Then he blew out the lamp.
We rolled over beneath the blankets, each turning this way and that until we found a comfortable position.
Before long, we were both fast asleep.