"Oy, Fluke, are ye goin' to include me in that there tale of yers?" asked Tout, the first harpooner of the Rachel."Well, Mr. Tout, considering that this is my story about the crew of the Pequod and Moby Dick, and that you were not part of the adventure, no." Pappy Ishmael looked up from his writing and smiled calmly at the ruddy faced questioner.
"Yer missin' out on a colorful character, you are, if'n ya don't make some mention of me in there."
"It could be that I'll do another story of my journey with the Rachel, Mr. Tout, and I doubt that Tout will be left out!!" A small smirk appeared on Ishmael's face as his eyes twinkled at his rhyme.
"Well, all ye have to do is ask and I'll regale you with my own stories of the best harpooner in the whaling trades!"
"I'm sure you'll rank right up there with Daggoo, Tashtego, and my good friend Queequeg, even if you don't hale from a people as skin-wise colorful as those three."
"Rank with them? Not as colorful, ye say? Why my face looks like the lobsters we gather on the New England coast most times of the year and when my blood is up, by Gor, I look like a blast furnace at its best!! Naw, ye won't be puttin' me down as one of those milky faced landlubbers who mince about drawing rooms, lad! I'll tout my talents and match my name!" As he said this, he cast his hands about to the listeners nearby, who gave their mixed consent to his less than modest spoutings.
"Ah, Mr. Tout, it would appear you have a handle on the English language and its humorous side."
"Aye, and there's a providential reason I were brought into this world of a family so named that I have and no lack of ability to tell folks what I think of 'em! They say my Irish ancestors and the local native girls were joint contributors to my coloration, so they do, but none'll own up to the exactitude of the get together, if'n ya get me drift, lad!" Appropriate winking of his eye and thrusting of his chest brought more undercurrents of laughter from his audience.
"I promise you, Mr. Tout, that just as soon as I finish this particular chapter, I will take some notes to remind me of your particular character...not that you're forgettable by any means short of a dive to Davy Jones!" The flattery obviously met with approval.
"And what chapter is that, lad?"
"Curiously enough, or providentially as you would say, that of my first meeting with Queequeg who I thought would kill me, who became my friend, and finally, provided the means to delay my meeting with Old Davy."
"So you came to know the heathen well, did ye?"
"As a brother. In fact, I came to the conclusion early on that occupying a bed with a sober pagan was more desirable that doing so with a drunken Christian. Hmmm...a good phrase to include, I think...thank you, Mr. Tout for helping me out!"
"I'm a reg'lar Samaritan, I am, so don't ye be forgettin' to make a point of that when ye tell your Tale of the Rachel!"
"Rest assured, you're there in the early chapters."
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