How we cite our quotes: (Chapter, Paragraph)
Quote #1
From his betaking himself to this humble quarter, it was evident that, as a deck-passenger, the stranger, simple though he seemed, was not entirely ignorant of his place, though his taking a deck-passage might have been partly for convenience; as, from his having no luggage, it was probable that his destination was one of the small wayside landings within a few hours' sail. But, though he might not have a long way to go, yet he seemed already to have come from a very long distance. (1, 12)
These lines are a reminder of class differences of those aboard the ship. The mute not only keeps to but "knows" his place. That place is humble and less than comfortable. He's also got no luggage, even though he looks like he's been traveling a long way. He might only be on a short journey now, but he's got the vibe of having a long way to go still.
Quote #2
Thus far not very many pennies had been given him, and, used at last to his strange looks, the less polite passengers of those in that part of the boat began to get their fill of him as a curious object; when suddenly the negro more than revived their first interest by an expedient which, whether by chance or design, was a singular temptation at once to diversion and charity, though, even more than his crippled limbs, it put him on a canine footing. (3, 18)
Urgh, we're so not cool with Guinea being compared to a dog in this "game." Apparently, he hadn't been making much money up until this point, when somebody decided to start throwing coins into his mouth. Since he can't walk, Guinea has to shuffle around on the floor to catch the coins. This is a dehumanizing move on the part of the passengers. Seriously, bad on them for coming up with this. It seems to add to the divide been those struggling to earn a living and those who throw their pennies away.
Quote #3
But not to such extremities, or anything like them, did the present crowd come; they, for the time, being content with putting the negro fairly and discreetly to the question; among other things, asking him, had he any documentary proof, any plain paper about him, attesting that his case was not a spurious one.
"No, no, dis poor ole darkie haint none o' dem waloable papers," he wailed. (3, 24-25)
Melville tries his hand at regional dialects here and may not actually be too successful. Besides the super not-cool racial representations going on, we get a look at a particularly bleak consequence of extreme poverty: you have to live outside an accepted system or institutions.
To make him prove that he's not faking his injuries and his homelessness, the crowd asks if Guinea's got any documentation or ID to make his case. Reminder: this text is from 1857—it's not like everyone carries driver's licenses. The only people carrying the kind of documentation these people are looking for would be professionals or business owners. A very poor person straight up would not be dealing with that kind of paperwork.
This moment is especially icky because we've got a distressed man who cannot walk making money because people thought it'd be hil-ar-ious if they threw coins at him to catch in his mouth like a dog. At this point, this man is being asked—ever so politely now—if he has a doctor's note. Face palm. Talk about missing the forest for the trees when it comes to caring for your fellow man.