’twas a foolish, ignorant whim of his crazy, widowed mother, who died when he was only a twelvemonth old. and yet the old squaw tistig, at gayhead, said that the name would somehow prove prophetic. and, perhaps, other fools like her may tell thee the same. i wish to warn thee. it’s a lie. i know captain ahab well; i’ve sailed with him as mate years ago; i know what he is—a good man—not a pious, good man, like bildad, but a swearing good man—something like me—only there’s a good deal more of him. aye, aye, i know that he was never very jolly; and i know that on the passage home, he was a little out of his mind for a spell; but it was the sharp shooting pains in his bleeding stump that brought that about, as any one might see. i know, too, that ever since he lost his leg last voyage by that accursed whale, he’s been a kind of moody—desperate moody, and savage sometimes; but that will all pass off. and once for all, let me tell thee and assure thee, young man, it’s better to sail with a moody good captain than a laughing bad one. so good-bye to thee—and wrong not captain ahab, because he happens to have a wicked name. besides, my boy, he has a wife—not three voyages wedded—a sweet, resigned girl. think of that; by that sweet girl that old man has a child: hold ye then there can be any utter, hopeless harm in ahab? no, no, my lad; stricken, blasted, if he be, ahab has his humanities!"