..."Come hither to me - hither, hither," said Peeleg, with a significance in his eye that almost startled me. "Look ye, lad; never say that on board the Peapod. Never say it anywhere. Captain Ahab did not name himself. '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 very, very well; I've sailed with him as mate years ago and as cabin boy before that; 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 than I have, if thou takest my drift. 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 the bleeding stump of his manhood that brought that about, as any one might see. I know, too, that ever since he lost his, ah, 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 and used to have the wickedest, ah, leg in all of Nantucket. Besides, my boy, he has a wife - not three voyages wedded - a sweet, resigned girl, for what else can she now be? 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, poxed, blasted, if he be, Ahab has his humanities of a sort!"