i went down to supper. after sitting a long time listening to the long stories of some sailors who had just come from a plum-pudding voyage, as they called it (that is, a short whaling-voyage in a schooner or brig, confined to the north of the line, in the atlantic ocean only); after listening to these plum-puddingers till nearly eleven o’clock, i went up stairs to go to bed, feeling quite sure by this time queequeg must certainly have brought his ramadan to a termination. but no; there he was just where i had left him; he had not stirred an inch. i began to grow vexed with him; it seemed so downright senseless and insane to be sitting there all day and half the night on his hams in a cold room, holding a piece of wood on his head.