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|Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never  |
|mind how long precisely--having little  |
|or no money in my purse, and nothing    |
|particular to interest me on shore, I   |
|thought I would sail about a little     |
|and see the watery part of the world.   |
|It is a way I have of driving off the   |
|spleen and regulating the circulation.  |
|Whenever I find myself growing grim     |
|about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, |
|drizzly November in my soul; whenever   |
|I find myself involuntarily pausing     |
|before coffin warehouses, and bringing  |
|up the rear of every funeral I meet; and|
|especially whenever my hypos get such   |
|an upper hand of me, that it requires   |
|a strong moral principle to prevent     |
|me from deliberately stepping into      |
|the street, and methodically knocking   |
|people's hats off--then, I account it   |
|high time to get to sea as soon as I    |
|can. This is my substitute for pistol   |
|and ball. With a philosophical flourish |
|Cato throws himself upon his sword;     |
|I quietly take to the ship. There is    |
|nothing surprising in this. If they     |
|but knew it, almost all men in their    |
|degree, some time or other, cherish very|
|nearly the same feelings towards the    |
|ocean with me. There now is your insular|
|city of the Manhattoes, belted round    |
|by wharves as Indian isles by coral     |
|reefs--commerce surrounds it with her   |
|surf. Right and left, the streets take  |
|you waterward. Its extreme downtown is  |
|the battery, where that noble mole is   |
|washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, |
|which a few hours previous were out of  |
|sight of land. Look at the crowds of    |
|water-gazers there. Circumambulate the  |
|city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go  |
|from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and|
|from thence, by Whitehall, northward.   |
|What do you see?--Posted like silent    |
|sentinels all around the town, stand    |
|thousands upon thousands of mortal men  |
|fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning   |
|against the spiles; some seated upon    |
|the pier-heads; some looking over the   |
|bulwarks of ships from China; some high |
|aloft in the rigging, as if striving to |
|get a still better seaward peep. But    |
|these are all landsmen; of week days    |
|pent up in lath and plaster--tied to    |
|counters, nailed to benches, clinched   |
|to desks. How then is this? Are the     |
|green fields gone? What do they here?   |
|But look! here come more crowds, pacing |
|straight for the water, and seemingly   |
|bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing      |
|will content them but the extremest     |
|limit of the land; loitering under the  |
|shady lee of yonder warehouses will not |
|suffice. No. They must get just as nigh |
|the water as they possibly can without  |
|falling in. And there they stand--miles |
|of them--leagues. Inlanders all, they   |
|come from lanes and alleys, streets and |
|avenues--north, east, south, and west.  |
|Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does  |
|the magnetic virtue of the needles of   |
|the compasses of all those ships attract|
|them thither? Once more. Say you are in |
|the country; in some high land of lakes.|
|Take almost any path you please, and ten|
|to one it carries you down in a dale,   |
|and leaves you there by a pool in the   |
|stream. There is magic in it. Let the   |
|most absent-minded of men be plunged in |
|his deepest reveries--stand that man    |
|on his legs, set his feet a-going, and  |
|he will infallibly lead you to water,   |
|if water there be in all that region.   |
|Should you ever be athirst in the great |
|American desert, try this experiment, if|
|your caravan happen to be supplied with |
|a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every |
|one knows, meditation and water are     |
|wedded for ever. But here is an artist. |
|He desires to paint you the dreamiest,  |
|shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit |
|of romantic landscape in all the valley |
|of the Saco. What is the chief element  |
|he employs? There stand his trees, each |
|with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and |
|a crucifix were within; and here sleeps |
|his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; |
|and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy|
|smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds|
|a mazy way, reaching to overlapping     |
|spurs of mountains bathed in their      |
|hill-side blue. But though the picture  |
|lies thus tranced, and though this      |
|pine-tree shakes down its sighs like    |
|leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet   |
|all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye|
|were fixed upon the magic stream before |
|him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when|
|for scores on scores of miles you wade  |
|knee-deep among Tiger-lilies--what is   |
|the one charm wanting?--Water--there    |
|is not a drop of water there! Were      |
|Niagara but a cataract of sand, would   |
|you travel your thousand miles to see   |
|it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, |
|upon suddenly receiving two handfuls    |
|of silver, deliberate whether to buy    |
|him a coat, which he sadly needed,      |
|or invest his money in a pedestrian     |
|trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost   |
|every robust healthy boy with a robust  |
|healthy soul in him, at some time or    |
|other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your |
|first voyage as a passenger, did you    |
|yourself feel such a mystical vibration,|
|when first told that you and your ship  |
|were now out of sight of land? Why did  |
|the old Persians hold the sea holy?     |
|Why did the Greeks give it a separate   |
|deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely  |
|all this is not without meaning. And    |
|still deeper the meaning of that story  |
|of Narcissus, who because he could not  |
|grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw |
|in the fountain, plunged into it and    |
|was drowned. But that same image, we    |
|ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. |
|It is the image of the ungraspable      |
|phantom of life; and this is the key to |
|it all. Now, when I say that I am in    |
|the habit of going to sea whenever I    |
|begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and  |
|begin to be over conscious of my lungs, |
|I do not mean to have it inferred that  |
|I ever go to sea as a passenger. For    |
|to go as a passenger you must needs     |
|have a purse, and a purse is but a      |
|rag unless you have something in it.    |
|Besides, passengers get sea-sick--grow  |
|quarrelsome--don't sleep of nights--do  |
|not enjoy themselves much, as a general |
|thing;--no, I never go as a passenger;  |
|nor, though I am something of a salt,   |
|do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or  |
|a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the     |
|glory and distinction of such offices   |
|to those who like them. For my part, I  |
|abominate all honourable respectable    |
|toils, trials, and tribulations of      |
|every kind whatsoever. It is quite      |
|as much as I can do to take care of     |
|myself, without taking care of ships,   |
|barques, brigs, schooners, and what     |
|not. And as for going as cook,--though  |
|I confess there is considerable glory   |
|in that, a cook being a sort of officer |
|on ship-board--yet, somehow, I never    |
|fancied broiling fowls;--though once    |
|broiled, judiciously buttered, and      |
|judgmatically salted and peppered,      |
|there is no one who will speak more     |
|respectfully, not to say reverentially, |
|of a broiled fowl than I will. It is    |
|out of the idolatrous dotings of the    |
|old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and     |
|roasted river horse, that you see the   |
|mummies of those creatures in their huge|
|bake-houses the pyramids. No, when I go |
|to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right  |
|before the mast, plumb down into the    |
|forecastle, aloft there to the royal    |
|mast-head. True, they rather order me   |
|about some, and make me jump from spar  |
|to spar, like a grasshopper in a May    |
|meadow. And at first, this sort of thing|
|is unpleasant enough. It touches one's  |
|sense of honour, particularly if you    |
|come of an old established family in the|
|land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs,|
|or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if  |
|just previous to putting your hand into |
|the tar-pot, you have been lording it   |
|as a country schoolmaster, making the   |
|tallest boys stand in awe of you. The   |
|transition is a keen one, I assure you, |
|from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and    |
|requires a strong decoction of Seneca   |
|and the Stoics to enable you to grin    |
|and bear it. But even this wears off in |
|time. What of it, if some old hunks of  |
|a sea-captain orders me to get a broom  |
|and sweep down the decks? What does that|
|indignity amount to, weighed, I mean,   |
|in the scales of the New Testament? Do  |
|you think the archangel Gabriel thinks  |
|anything the less of me, because I      |
|promptly and respectfully obey that old |
|hunks in that particular instance? Who  |
|ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then,|
|however the old sea-captains may order  |
|me about--however they may thump and    |
|punch me about, I have the satisfaction |
|of knowing that it is all right; that   |
|everybody else is one way or other      |
|served in much the same way--either in a|
|physical or metaphysical point of view, |
|that is; and so the universal thump is  |
|passed round, and all hands should rub  |
|each other's shoulder-blades, and be    |
|content. Again, I always go to sea as   |
|a sailor, because they make a point of  |
|paying me for my trouble, whereas they  |
|never pay passengers a single penny     |
|that I ever heard of. On the contrary,  |
|passengers themselves must pay. And     |
|there is all the difference in the      |
|world between paying and being paid.    |
|The act of paying is perhaps the most   |
|uncomfortable infliction that the two   |
|orchard thieves entailed upon us. But   |
|BEING PAID,--what will compare with it? |
|The urbane activity with which a man    |
|receives money is really marvellous,    |
|considering that we so earnestly        |
|believe money to be the root of all     |
|earthly ills, and that on no account    |
|can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how  |
|cheerfully we consign ourselves to      |
|perdition! Finally, I always go to sea  |
|as a sailor, because of the wholesome   |
|exercise and pure air of the fore-castle|
|deck. For as in this world, head winds  |
|are far more prevalent than winds from  |
|astern (that is, if you never violate   |
|the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most |
|part the Commodore on the quarter-deck  |
|gets his atmosphere at second hand from |
|the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks|
|he breathes it first; but not so. In    |
|much the same way do the commonalty lead|
|their leaders in many other things, at  |
|the same time that the leaders little   |
|suspect it. But wherefore it was that   |
|after having repeatedly smelt the sea as|
|a merchant sailor, I should now take it |
|into my head to go on a whaling voyage; |
|this the invisible police officer of the|
|Fates, who has the constant surveillance|
|of me, and secretly dogs me, and        |
|influences me in some unaccountable     |
|way--he can better answer than any one  |
|else. And, doubtless, my going on this  |
|whaling voyage, formed part of the      |
|grand programme of Providence that was  |
|drawn up a long time ago. It came in    |
|as a sort of brief interlude and solo   |
|between more extensive performances.    |
|I take it that this part of the bill    |
|must have run something like this:      |
|"GRAND CONTESTED ELECTION FOR THE       |
|PRESIDENCY OF THE UNITED STATES.        |
|"WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL. "BLOODY |
|BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN." Though I       |
|cannot tell why it was exactly that     |
|those stage managers, the Fates, put    |
|me down for this shabby part of a       |
|whaling voyage, when others were set    |
|down for magnificent parts in high      |
|tragedies, and short and easy parts in  |
|genteel comedies, and jolly parts in    |
|farces--though I cannot tell why this   |
|was exactly; yet, now that I recall all |
|the circumstances, I think I can see    |
|a little into the springs and motives   |
|which being cunningly presented to me   |
|under various disguises, induced me to  |
|set about performing the part I did,    |
|besides cajoling me into the delusion   |
|that it was a choice resulting from my  |
|own unbiased freewill and discriminating|
|judgment. Chief among these motives     |
|was the overwhelming idea of the great  |
|whale himself. Such a portentous and    |
|mysterious monster roused all my        |
|curiosity. Then the wild and distant    |
|seas where he rolled his island bulk;   |
|the undeliverable, nameless perils of   |
|the whale; these, with all the attending|
|marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights |
|and sounds, helped to sway me to my     |
|wish. With other men, perhaps, such     |
|things would not have been inducements; |
|but as for me, I am tormented with an   |
|everlasting itch for things remote. I   |
|love to sail forbidden seas, and land on|
|barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is  |
|good, I am quick to perceive a horror,  |
|and could still be social with it--would|
|they let me--since it is but well to be |
|on friendly terms with all the inmates  |
|of the place one lodges in. By reason of|
|these things, then, the whaling voyage  |
|was welcome; the great flood-gates of   |
|the wonder-world swung open, and in     |
|the wild conceits that swayed me to my  |
|purpose, two and two there floated into |
|my inmost soul, endless processions of  |
|the whale, and, mid most of them all,   |
|one grand hooded phantom, like a snow   |
|hill in the air. I stuffed a shirt or   |
|two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it   |
|under my arm, and started for Cape Horn |
|and the Pacific. Quitting the good city |
|of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New  |
|Bedford. It was a Saturday night in     |
|December. Much was I disappointed upon  |
|learning that the little packet for     |
|Nantucket had already sailed, and that  |
|no way of reaching that place would     |
|offer, till the following Monday. As    |
|most young candidates for the pains and |
|penalties of whaling stop at this same  |
|New Bedford, thence to embark on their  |
|voyage, it may as well be related that  |
|I, for one, had no idea of so doing.    |
|For my mind was made up to sail in no   |
|other than a Nantucket craft, because   |
|there was a fine, boisterous something  |
|about everything connected with that    |
|famous old island, which amazingly      |
|pleased me. Besides though New Bedford  |
|has of late been gradually monopolising |
|the business of whaling, and though     |
|in this matter poor old Nantucket is    |
|now much behind her, yet Nantucket was  |
|her great original--the Tyre of this    |
|Carthage;--the place where the first    |
|dead American whale was stranded. Where |
|else but from Nantucket did those       |
|aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first |
|sally out in canoes to give chase to the|
|Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket,|
|too, did that first adventurous little  |
|sloop put forth, partly laden with      |
|imported cobblestones--so goes the      |
|story--to throw at the whales, in order |
|to discover when they were nigh enough  |
|to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?    |
|Now having a night, a day, and still    |
|another night following before me in    |
|New Bedford, ere I could embark for     |
|my destined port, it became a matter    |
|of concernment where I was to eat       |
|and sleep meanwhile. It was a very      |
|dubious-looking, nay, a very dark       |
|and dismal night, bitingly cold and     |
|cheerless. I knew no one in the place.  |
|With anxious grapnels I had sounded     |
|my pocket, and only brought up a few    |
|pieces of silver,--So, wherever you     |
|go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I     |
|stood in the middle of a dreary street  |
|shouldering my bag, and comparing       |
|the gloom towards the north with the    |
|darkness towards the south--wherever in |
|your wisdom you may conclude to lodge   |
|for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure |
|to inquire the price, and don't be too  |
|particular. With halting steps I paced  |
|the streets, and passed the sign of     |
|"The Crossed Harpoons"--but it looked   |
|too expensive and jolly there. Further  |
|on, from the bright red windows of      |
|the "Sword-Fish Inn," there came such   |
|fervent rays, that it seemed to have    |
|melted the packed snow and ice from     |
|before the house, for everywhere else   |
|the congealed frost lay ten inches thick|
|in a hard, asphaltic pavement,--rather  |
|weary for me, when I struck my foot     |
|against the flinty projections, because |
|from hard, remorseless service the soles|
|of my boots were in a most miserable    |
|plight. Too expensive and jolly, again  |
|thought I, pausing one moment to watch  |
|the broad glare in the street, and hear |
|the sounds of the tinkling glasses      |
|within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at   |
|last; don't you hear? get away from     |
|before the door; your patched boots are |
|stopping the way. So on I went. I now   |
|by instinct followed the streets that   |
|took me waterward, for there, doubtless,|
|were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest |
|inns. Such dreary streets! blocks of    |
|blackness, not houses, on either hand,  |
|and here and there a candle, like a     |
|candle moving about in a tomb. At this  |
|hour of the night, of the last day of   |
|the week, that quarter of the town      |
|proved all but deserted. But presently  |
|I came to a smoky light proceeding from |
|a low, wide building, the door of which |
|stood invitingly open. It had a careless|
|look, as if it were meant for the uses  |
|of the public; so, entering, the first  |
|thing I did was to stumble over an      |
|ash-box in the porch. Ha! thought I, ha,|
|as the flying particles almost choked   |
|me, are these ashes from that destroyed |
|city, Gomorrah? But "The Crossed        |
|Harpoons," and "The Sword-Fish?"--this, |
|then must needs be the sign of "The     |
|Trap." However, I picked myself up and  |
|hearing a loud voice within, pushed on  |
|and opened a second, interior door.     |
|It seemed the great Black Parliament    |
|sitting in Tophet. A hundred black faces|
|turned round in their rows to peer;     |
|and beyond, a black Angel of Doom was   |
|beating a book in a pulpit. It was a    |
|negro church; and the preacher's text   |
|was about the blackness of darkness,    |
|and the weeping and wailing and         |
|teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael,      |
|muttered I, backing out, Wretched       |
|entertainment at the sign of 'The Trap!'|
|Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort |
|of light not far from the docks, and    |
|heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and|
|looking up, saw a swinging sign over    |
|the door with a white painting upon it, |
|faintly representing a tall straight    |
|jet of misty spray, and these words     |
|underneath--"The Spouter Inn:--Peter    |
|Coffin." Coffin?--Spouter?--Rather      |
|ominous in that particular connexion,   |
|thought I. But it is a common name in   |
|Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this |
|Peter here is an emigrant from there. As|
|the light looked so dim, and the place, |
|for the time, looked quiet enough, and  |
|the dilapidated little wooden house     |
|itself looked as if it might have been  |
|carted here from the ruins of some burnt|
|district, and as the swinging sign had  |
|a poverty-stricken sort of creak to     |
|it, I thought that here was the very    |
|spot for cheap lodgings, and the best   |
|of pea coffee. It was a queer sort of   |
|place--a gable-ended old house, one side|
|palsied as it were, and leaning over    |
|sadly. It stood on a sharp bleak corner,|
|where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon  |
|kept up a worse howling than ever it    |
|did about poor Paul's tossed craft.     |
|Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty   |
|pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors,    |
|with his feet on the hob quietly        |
|toasting for bed. "In judging of that   |
|tempestuous wind called Euroclydon,"    |
|says an old writer--of whose works      |
|I possess the only copy extant--"it     |
|maketh a marvellous difference, whether |
|thou lookest out at it from a glass     |
|window where the frost is all on the    |
|outside, or whether thou observest it   |
|from that sashless window, where the    |
|frost is on both sides, and of which    |
|the wight Death is the only glazier."   |
|True enough, thought I, as this passage |
|occurred to my mind--old black-letter,  |
|thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes    |
|are windows, and this body of mine is   |
|the house. What a pity they didn't stop |
|up the chinks and the crannies though,  |
|and thrust in a little lint here and    |
|there. But it's too late to make any    |
|improvements now. The universe is       |
|finished; the copestone is on, and the  |
|chips were carted off a million years   |
|ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering his |
|teeth against the curbstone for his     |
|pillow, and shaking off his tatters     |
|with his shiverings, he might plug up   |
|both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob |
|into his mouth, and yet that would not  |
|keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon.    |
|Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red  |
|silken wrapper--(he had a redder one    |
|afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine     |
|frosty night; how Orion glitters; what  |
|northern lights! Let them talk of their |
|oriental summer climes of everlasting   |
|conservatories; give me the privilege of|
|making my own summer with my own coals. |
|But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his|
|blue hands by holding them up to the    |
|grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus|
|rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he|
|not far rather lay him down lengthwise  |
|along the line of the equator; yea, ye  |
|gods! go down to the fiery pit itself,  |
|in order to keep out this frost? Now,   |
|that Lazarus should lie stranded there  |
|on the curbstone before the door of     |
|Dives, this is more wonderful than that |
|an iceberg should be moored to one of   |
|the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too |
|lives like a Czar in an ice palace made |
|of frozen sighs, and being a president  |
|of a temperance society, he only drinks |
|the tepid tears of orphans. But no more |
|of this blubbering now, we are going    |
|a-whaling, and there is plenty of that  |
|yet to come. Let us scrape the ice from |
|our frosted feet, and see what sort of  |
|a place this "Spouter" may be. Entering |
|that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found |
|yourself in a wide, low, straggling     |
|entry with old-fashioned wainscots,     |
|reminding one of the bulwarks of some   |
|condemned old craft. On one side hung   |
|a very large oilpainting so thoroughly  |
|besmoked, and every way defaced, that   |
|in the unequal crosslights by which     |
|you viewed it, it was only by diligent  |
|study and a series of systematic        |
|visits to it, and careful inquiry of    |
|the neighbors, that you could any way   |
|arrive at an understanding of its       |
|purpose. Such unaccountable masses of   |
|shades and shadows, that at first you   |
|almost thought some ambitious young     |
|artist, in the time of the New England  |
|hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos |
|bewitched. But by dint of much and      |
|earnest contemplation, and oft repeated |
|ponderings, and especially by throwing  |
|open the little window towards the      |
|back of the entry, you at last come     |
|to the conclusion that such an idea,    |
|however wild, might not be altogether   |
|unwarranted. But what most puzzled and  |
|confounded you was a long, limber,      |
|portentous, black mass of something     |
|hovering in the centre of the picture   |
|over three blue, dim, perpendicular     |
|lines floating in a nameless yeast.     |
|A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture        |
|truly, enough to drive a nervous man    |
|distracted. Yet was there a sort of     |
|indefinite, half-attained, unimaginable |
|sublimity about it that fairly froze    |
|you to it, till you involuntarily took  |
|an oath with yourself to find out what  |
|that marvellous painting meant. Ever    |
|and anon a bright, but, alas, deceptive |
|idea would dart you through.--It's the  |
|Black Sea in a midnight gale.--It's the |
|unnatural combat of the four primal     |
|elements.--It's a blasted heath.--It's  |
|a Hyperborean winter scene.--It's the   |
|breaking-up of the icebound stream of   |
|Time. But at last all these fancies     |
|yielded to that one portentous something|
|in the picture's midst. THAT once found |
|out, and all the rest were plain.       |
|But stop; does it not bear a faint      |
|resemblance to a gigantic fish? even the|
|great leviathan himself? In fact, the   |
|artist's design seemed this: a final    |
|theory of my own, partly based upon the |
|aggregated opinions of many aged persons|
|with whom I conversed upon the subject. |
|The picture represents a Cape-Horner in |
|a great hurricane; the half-foundered   |
|ship weltering there with its three     |
|dismantled masts alone visible; and     |
|an exasperated whale, purposing to      |
|spring clean over the craft, is in the  |
|enormous act of impaling himself upon   |
|the three mast-heads. The opposite wall |
|of this entry was hung all over with    |
|a heathenish array of monstrous clubs   |
|and spears. Some were thickly set with  |
|glittering teeth resembling ivory saws; |
|others were tufted with knots of human  |
|hair; and one was sickle-shaped, with   |
|a vast handle sweeping round like the   |
|segment made in the new-mown grass by   |
|a long-armed mower. You shuddered as    |
|you gazed, and wondered what monstrous  |
|cannibal and savage could ever have     |
|gone a death-harvesting with such a     |
|hacking, horrifying implement. Mixed    |
|with these were rusty old whaling lances|
|and harpoons all broken and deformed.   |
|Some were storied weapons. With this    |
|once long lance, now wildly elbowed,    |
|fifty years ago did Nathan Swain kill   |
|fifteen whales between a sunrise and    |
|a sunset. And that harpoon--so like     |
|a corkscrew now--was flung in Javan     |
|seas, and run away with by a whale,     |
|years afterwards slain off the Cape     |
|of Blanco. The original iron entered    |
|nigh the tail, and, like a restless     |
|needle sojourning in the body of a      |
|man, travelled full forty feet, and at  |
|last was found imbedded in the hump.    |
|Crossing this dusky entry, and on       |
|through yon low-arched way--cut through |
|what in old times must have been a      |
|great central chimney with fireplaces   |
|all round--you enter the public room. A |
|still duskier place is this, with such  |
|low ponderous beams above, and such old |
|wrinkled planks beneath, that you would |
|almost fancy you trod some old craft's  |
|cockpits, especially of such a howling  |
|night, when this corner-anchored old ark|
|rocked so furiously. On one side stood  |
|a long, low, shelf-like table covered   |
|with cracked glass cases, filled with   |
|dusty rarities gathered from this wide  |
|world's remotest nooks. Projecting from |
|the further angle of the room stands    |
|a dark-looking den--the bar--a rude     |
|attempt at a right whale's head. Be     |
|that how it may, there stands the vast  |
|arched bone of the whale's jaw, so wide,|
|a coach might almost drive beneath it.  |
|Within are shabby shelves, ranged round |
|with old decanters, bottles, flasks;    |
|and in those jaws of swift destruction, |
|like another cursed Jonah (by which     |
|name indeed they called him), bustles   |
|a little withered old man, who, for     |
|their money, dearly sells the sailors   |
|deliriums and death. Abominable are the |
|tumblers into which he pours his poison.|
|Though true cylinders without--within,  |
|the villanous green goggling glasses    |
|deceitfully tapered downwards to a      |
|cheating bottom. Parallel meridians     |
|rudely pecked into the glass, surround  |
|these footpads' goblets. Fill to THIS   |
|mark, and your charge is but a penny;   |
|to THIS a penny more; and so on to the  |
|full glass--the Cape Horn measure,      |
|which you may gulp down for a shilling. |
|Upon entering the place I found a       |
|number of young seamen gathered about a |
|table, examining by a dim light divers  |
|specimens of SKRIMSHANDER. I sought the |
|landlord, and telling him I desired to  |
|be accommodated with a room, received   |
|for answer that his house was full--not |
|a bed unoccupied. "But avast," he added,|
|tapping his forehead, "you haint no     |
|objections to sharing a harpooneer's    |
|blanket, have ye? I s'pose you are goin'|
|a-whalin', so you'd better get used to  |
|that sort of thing." I told him that I  |
|never liked to sleep two in a bed; that |
|if I should ever do so, it would depend |
|upon who the harpooneer might be, and   |
|that if he (the landlord) really had no |
|other place for me, and the harpooneer  |
|was not decidedly objectionable, why    |
|rather than wander further about a      |
|strange town on so bitter a night, I    |
|would put up with the half of any decent|
|man's blanket. "I thought so. All right;|
|take a seat. Supper?--you want supper?  |
|Supper'll be ready directly." I sat     |
|down on an old wooden settle, carved    |
|all over like a bench on the Battery.   |
|At one end a ruminating tar was still   |
|further adorning it with his jack-knife,|
|stooping over and diligently working    |
|away at the space between his legs. He  |
|was trying his hand at a ship under     |
|full sail, but he didn't make much      |
|headway, I thought. At last some four   |
|or five of us were summoned to our meal |
|in an adjoining room. It was cold as    |
|Iceland--no fire at all--the landlord   |
|said he couldn't afford it. Nothing but |
|two dismal tallow candles, each in a    |
|winding sheet. We were fain to button   |
|up our monkey jackets, and hold to our  |
|lips cups of scalding tea with our half |
|frozen fingers. But the fare was of the |
|most substantial kind--not only meat and|
|potatoes, but dumplings; good heavens!  |
|dumplings for supper! One young fellow  |
|in a green box coat, addressed himself  |
|to these dumplings in a most direful    |
|manner. "My boy," said the landlord,    |
|"you'll have the nightmare to a dead    |
|sartainty." "Landlord," I whispered,    |
|"that aint the harpooneer is it?"       |
|"Oh, no," said he, looking a sort of    |
|diabolically funny, "the harpooneer is  |
|a dark complexioned chap. He never eats |
|dumplings, he don't--he eats nothing    |
|but steaks, and he likes 'em rare."     |
|"The devil he does," says I. "Where is  |
|that harpooneer? Is he here?" "He'll    |
|be here afore long," was the answer. I  |
|could not help it, but I began to feel  |
|suspicious of this "dark complexioned"  |
|harpooneer. At any rate, I made up my   |
|mind that if it so turned out that we   |
|should sleep together, he must undress  |
|and get into bed before I did. Supper   |
|over, the company went back to the      |
|bar-room, when, knowing not what else   |
|to do with myself, I resolved to spend  |
|the rest of the evening as a looker on. |
|Presently a rioting noise was heard     |
|without. Starting up, the landlord      |
|cried, "That's the Grampus's crew. I    |
|seed her reported in the offing this    |
|morning; a three years' voyage, and a   |
|full ship. Hurrah, boys; now we'll have |
|the latest news from the Feegees." A    |
|tramping of sea boots was heard in the  |
|entry; the door was flung open, and in  |
|rolled a wild set of mariners enough.   |
|Enveloped in their shaggy watch coats,  |
|and with their heads muffled in woollen |
|comforters, all bedarned and ragged,    |
|and their beards stiff with icicles,    |
|they seemed an eruption of bears from   |
|Labrador. They had just landed from     |
|their boat, and this was the first house|
|they entered. No wonder, then, that they|
|made a straight wake for the whale's    |
|mouth--the bar--when the wrinkled little|
|old Jonah, there officiating, soon      |
|poured them out brimmers all round. One |
|complained of a bad cold in his head,   |
|upon which Jonah mixed him a pitch-like |
|potion of gin and molasses, which he    |
|swore was a sovereign cure for all      |
|colds and catarrhs whatsoever, never    |
|mind of how long standing, or whether   |
|caught off the coast of Labrador, or    |
|on the weather side of an ice-island.   |
|The liquor soon mounted into their      |
|heads, as it generally does even with   |
|the arrantest topers newly landed from  |
|sea, and they began capering about most |
|obstreperously. I observed, however,    |
|that one of them held somewhat aloof,   |
|and though he seemed desirous not to    |
|spoil the hilarity of his shipmates     |
|by his own sober face, yet upon the     |
|whole he refrained from making as       |
|much noise as the rest. This man        |
|interested me at once; and since the    |
|sea-gods had ordained that he should    |
|soon become my shipmate (though but a   |
|sleeping-partner one, so far as this    |
|narrative is concerned), I will here    |
|venture upon a little description of    |
|him. He stood full six feet in height,  |
|with noble shoulders, and a chest like  |
|a coffer-dam. I have seldom seen such   |
|brawn in a man. His face was deeply     |
|brown and burnt, making his white teeth |
|dazzling by the contrast; while in the  |
|deep shadows of his eyes floated some   |
|reminiscences that did not seem to      |
|give him much joy. His voice at once    |
|announced that he was a Southerner, and |
|from his fine stature, I thought he     |
|must be one of those tall mountaineers  |
|from the Alleghanian Ridge in Virginia. |
|When the revelry of his companions      |
|had mounted to its height, this man     |
|slipped away unobserved, and I saw no   |
|more of him till he became my comrade   |
|on the sea. In a few minutes, however,  |
|he was missed by his shipmates, and     |
|being, it seems, for some reason a huge |
|favourite with them, they raised a cry  |
|of "Bulkington! Bulkington! where's     |
|Bulkington?" and darted out of the house|
|in pursuit of him. It was now about nine|
|o'clock, and the room seeming almost    |
|supernaturally quiet after these orgies,|
|I began to congratulate myself upon a   |
|little plan that had occurred to me     |
|just previous to the entrance of the    |
|seamen. No man prefers to sleep two in  |
|a bed. In fact, you would a good deal   |
|rather not sleep with your own brother. |
|I don't know how it is, but people like |
|to be private when they are sleeping.   |
|And when it comes to sleeping with an   |
|unknown stranger, in a strange inn,     |
|in a strange town, and that stranger    |
|a harpooneer, then your objections      |
|indefinitely multiply. Nor was there    |
|any earthly reason why I as a sailor    |
|should sleep two in a bed, more than    |
|anybody else; for sailors no more sleep |
|two in a bed at sea, than bachelor Kings|
|do ashore. To be sure they all sleep    |
|together in one apartment, but you have |
|your own hammock, and cover yourself    |
|with your own blanket, and sleep in your|
|own skin. The more I pondered over this |
|harpooneer, the more I abominated the   |
|thought of sleeping with him. It was    |
|fair to presume that being a harpooneer,|
|his linen or woollen, as the case       |
|might be, would not be of the tidiest,  |
|certainly none of the finest. I began   |
|to twitch all over. Besides, it was     |
|getting late, and my decent harpooneer  |
|ought to be home and going bedwards.    |
|Suppose now, he should tumble in upon   |
|me at midnight--how could I tell from   |
|what vile hole he had been coming?      |
|"Landlord! I've changed my mind about   |
|that harpooneer.--I shan't sleep with   |
|him. I'll try the bench here." "Just as |
|you please; I'm sorry I cant spare ye   |
|a tablecloth for a mattress, and it's   |
|a plaguy rough board here"--feeling of  |
|the knots and notches. "But wait a bit, |
|Skrimshander; I've got a carpenter's    |
|plane there in the bar--wait, I say, and|
|I'll make ye snug enough." So saying he |
|procured the plane; and with his old    |
|silk handkerchief first dusting the     |
|bench, vigorously set to planing away at|
|my bed, the while grinning like an ape. |
|The shavings flew right and left; till  |
|at last the plane-iron came bump against|
|an indestructible knot. The landlord    |
|was near spraining his wrist, and I     |
|told him for heaven's sake to quit--the |
|bed was soft enough to suit me, and I   |
|did not know how all the planing in the |
|world could make eider down of a pine   |
|plank. So gathering up the shavings with|
|another grin, and throwing them into    |
|the great stove in the middle of the    |
|room, he went about his business, and   |
|left me in a brown study. I now took    |
|the measure of the bench, and found     |
|that it was a foot too short; but that  |
|could be mended with a chair. But it    |
|was a foot too narrow, and the other    |
|bench in the room was about four inches |
|higher than the planed one--so there    |
|was no yoking them. I then placed the   |
|first bench lengthwise along the only   |
|clear space against the wall, leaving   |
|a little interval between, for my back  |
|to settle down in. But I soon found     |
|that there came such a draught of cold  |
|air over me from under the sill of the  |
|window, that this plan would never do   |
|at all, especially as another current   |
|from the rickety door met the one from  |
|the window, and both together formed    |
|a series of small whirlwinds in the     |
|immediate vicinity of the spot where    |
|I had thought to spend the night. The   |
|devil fetch that harpooneer, thought    |
|I, but stop, couldn't I steal a march   |
|on him--bolt his door inside, and jump  |
|into his bed, not to be wakened by the  |
|most violent knockings? It seemed no    |
|bad idea; but upon second thoughts I    |
|dismissed it. For who could tell but    |
|what the next morning, so soon as I     |
|popped out of the room, the harpooneer  |
|might be standing in the entry, all     |
|ready to knock me down! Still, looking  |
|round me again, and seeing no possible  |
|chance of spending a sufferable night   |
|unless in some other person's bed, I    |
|began to think that after all I might   |
|be cherishing unwarrantable prejudices  |
|against this unknown harpooneer.        |
|Thinks I, I'll wait awhile; he must be  |
|dropping in before long. I'll have a    |
|good look at him then, and perhaps we   |
|may become jolly good bedfellows after  |
|all--there's no telling. But though     |
|the other boarders kept coming in by    |
|ones, twos, and threes, and going to    |
|bed, yet no sign of my harpooneer.      |
|"Landlord! said I, "what sort of a chap |
|is he--does he always keep such late    |
|hours?" It was now hard upon twelve     |
|o'clock. The landlord chuckled again    |
|with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be |
|mightily tickled at something beyond    |
|my comprehension. "No," he answered,    |
|"generally he's an early bird--airley to|
|bed and airley to rise--yes, he's the   |
|bird what catches the worm. But to-night|
|he went out a peddling, you see, and I  |
|don't see what on airth keeps him so    |
|late, unless, may be, he can't sell his |
|head." "Can't sell his head?--What sort |
|of a bamboozingly story is this you are |
|telling me?" getting into a towering    |
|rage. "Do you pretend to say, landlord, |
|that this harpooneer is actually engaged|
|this blessed Saturday night, or rather  |
|Sunday morning, in peddling his head    |
|around this town?" "That's precisely    |
|it," said the landlord, "and I told him |
|he couldn't sell it here, the market's  |
|overstocked." "With what?" shouted I.   |
|"With heads to be sure; ain't there too |
|many heads in the world?" "I tell you   |
|what it is, landlord," said I quite     |
|calmly, "you'd better stop spinning     |
|that yarn to me--I'm not green."        |
|"May be not," taking out a stick and    |
|whittling a toothpick, "but I rayther   |
|guess you'll be done BROWN if that ere  |
|harpooneer hears you a slanderin' his   |
|head." "I'll break it for him," said I, |
|now flying into a passion again at this |
|unaccountable farrago of the landlord's.|
|"It's broke a'ready," said he. "Broke," |
|said I--"BROKE, do you mean?" "Sartain, |
|and that's the very reason he can't sell|
|it, I guess." "Landlord," said I, going |
|up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a     |
|snow-storm--"landlord, stop whittling.  |
|You and I must understand one another,  |
|and that too without delay. I come to   |
|your house and want a bed; you tell me  |
|you can only give me half a one; that   |
|the other half belongs to a certain     |
|harpooneer. And about this harpooneer,  |
|whom I have not yet seen, you persist   |
|in telling me the most mystifying and   |
|exasperating stories tending to beget in|
|me an uncomfortable feeling towards the |
|man whom you design for my bedfellow--a |
|sort of connexion, landlord, which is   |
|an intimate and confidential one in the |
|highest degree. I now demand of you to  |
|speak out and tell me who and what this |
|harpooneer is, and whether I shall be   |
|in all respects safe to spend the night |
|with him. And in the first place, you   |
|will be so good as to unsay that story  |
|about selling his head, which if true   |
|I take to be good evidence that this    |
|harpooneer is stark mad, and I've no    |
|idea of sleeping with a madman; and you,|
|sir, YOU I mean, landlord, YOU, sir, by |
|trying to induce me to do so knowingly, |
|would thereby render yourself liable to |
|a criminal prosecution." "Wall," said   |
|the landlord, fetching a long breath,   |
|"that's a purty long sarmon for a chap  |
|that rips a little now and then. But    |
|be easy, be easy, this here harpooneer  |
|I have been tellin' you of has just     |
|arrived from the south seas, where he   |
|bought up a lot of 'balmed New Zealand  |
|heads (great curios, you know), and     |
|he's sold all on 'em but one, and that  |
|one he's trying to sell to-night, cause |
|to-morrow's Sunday, and it would not    |
|do to be sellin' human heads about the  |
|streets when folks is goin' to churches.|
|He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped|
|him just as he was goin' out of the door|
|with four heads strung on a string, for |
|all the airth like a string of inions." |
|This account cleared up the otherwise   |
|unaccountable mystery, and showed that  |
|the landlord, after all, had had no idea|
|of fooling me--but at the same time what|
|could I think of a harpooneer who stayed|
|out of a Saturday night clean into the  |
|holy Sabbath, engaged in such a cannibal|
|business as selling the heads of dead   |
|idolators? "Depend upon it, landlord,   |
|that harpooneer is a dangerous man." "He|
|pays reg'lar," was the rejoinder. "But  |
|come, it's getting dreadful late, you   |
|had better be turning flukes--it's a    |
|nice bed; Sal and me slept in that ere  |
|bed the night we were spliced. There's  |
|plenty of room for two to kick about in |
|that bed; it's an almighty big bed that.|
|Why, afore we give it up, Sal used to   |
|put our Sam and little Johnny in the    |
|foot of it. But I got a dreaming and    |
|sprawling about one night, and somehow, |
|Sam got pitched on the floor, and came  |
|near breaking his arm. Arter that, Sal  |
|said it wouldn't do. Come along here,   |
|I'll give ye a glim in a jiffy;" and so |
|saying he lighted a candle and held it  |
|towards me, offering to lead the way.   |
|But I stood irresolute; when looking    |
|at a clock in the corner, he exclaimed  |
|"I vum it's Sunday--you won't see that  |
|harpooneer to-night; he's come to       |
|anchor somewhere--come along then; DO   |
|come; WON'T ye come?" I considered the  |
|matter a moment, and then up stairs we  |
|went, and I was ushered into a small    |
|room, cold as a clam, and furnished,    |
|sure enough, with a prodigious bed,     |
|almost big enough indeed for any        |
|four harpooneers to sleep abreast.      |
|"There," said the landlord, placing the |
|candle on a crazy old sea chest that    |
|did double duty as a wash-stand and     |
|centre table; "there, make yourself     |
|comfortable now, and good night to ye." |
|I turned round from eyeing the bed, but |
|he had disappeared. Folding back the    |
|counterpane, I stooped over the bed.    |
|Though none of the most elegant, it yet |
|stood the scrutiny tolerably well. I    |
|then glanced round the room; and besides|
|the bedstead and centre table, could    |
|see no other furniture belonging to the |
|place, but a rude shelf, the four walls,|
|and a papered fireboard representing    |
|a man striking a whale. Of things not   |
|properly belonging to the room, there   |
|was a hammock lashed up, and thrown     |
|upon the floor in one corner; also a    |
|large seaman's bag, containing the      |
|harpooneer's wardrobe, no doubt in lieu |
|of a land trunk. Likewise, there was a  |
|parcel of outlandish bone fish hooks    |
|on the shelf over the fire-place, and   |
|a tall harpoon standing at the head of  |
|the bed. But what is this on the chest? |
|I took it up, and held it close to the  |
|light, and felt it, and smelt it, and   |
|tried every way possible to arrive at   |
|some satisfactory conclusion concerning |
|it. I can compare it to nothing but a   |
|large door mat, ornamented at the edges |
|with little tinkling tags something like|
|the stained porcupine quills round an   |
|Indian moccasin. There was a hole or    |
|slit in the middle of this mat, as you  |
|see the same in South American ponchos. |
|But could it be possible that any sober |
|harpooneer would get into a door mat,   |
|and parade the streets of any Christian |
|town in that sort of guise? I put it on,|
|to try it, and it weighed me down like  |
|a hamper, being uncommonly shaggy and   |
|thick, and I thought a little damp, as  |
|though this mysterious harpooneer had   |
|been wearing it of a rainy day. I went  |
|up in it to a bit of glass stuck against|
|the wall, and I never saw such a sight  |
|in my life. I tore myself out of it in  |
|such a hurry that I gave myself a kink  |
|in the neck. I sat down on the side of  |
|the bed, and commenced thinking about   |
|this head-peddling harpooneer, and his  |
|door mat. After thinking some time on   |
|the bed-side, I got up and took off my  |
|monkey jacket, and then stood in the    |
|middle of the room thinking. I then     |
|took off my coat, and thought a little  |
|more in my shirt sleeves. But beginning |
|to feel very cold now, half undressed   |
|as I was, and remembering what the      |
|landlord said about the harpooneer's    |
|not coming home at all that night, it   |
|being so very late, I made no more ado, |
|but jumped out of my pantaloons and     |
|boots, and then blowing out the light   |
|tumbled into bed, and commended myself  |
|to the care of heaven. Whether that     |
|mattress was stuffed with corn-cobs or  |
|broken crockery, there is no telling,   |
|but I rolled about a good deal, and     |
|could not sleep for a long time. At     |
|last I slid off into a light doze, and  |
|had pretty nearly made a good offing    |
|towards the land of Nod, when I heard   |
|a heavy footfall in the passage, and    |
|saw a glimmer of light come into the    |
|room from under the door. Lord save me, |
|thinks I, that must be the harpooneer,  |
|the infernal head-peddler. But I lay    |
|perfectly still, and resolved not to say|
|a word till spoken to. Holding a light  |
|in one hand, and that identical New     |
|Zealand head in the other, the stranger |
|entered the room, and without looking   |
|towards the bed, placed his candle a    |
|good way off from me on the floor in    |
|one corner, and then began working away |
|at the knotted cords of the large bag I |
|before spoke of as being in the room.   |
|I was all eagerness to see his face,    |
|but he kept it averted for some time    |
|while employed in unlacing the bag's    |
|mouth. This accomplished, however, he   |
|turned round--when, good heavens! what  |
|a sight! Such a face! It was of a dark, |
|purplish, yellow colour, here and there |
|stuck over with large blackish looking  |
|squares. Yes, it's just as I thought,   |
|he's a terrible bedfellow; he's been in |
|a fight, got dreadfully cut, and here   |
|he is, just from the surgeon. But at    |
|that moment he chanced to turn his face |
|so towards the light, that I plainly    |
|saw they could not be sticking-plasters |
|at all, those black squares on his      |
|cheeks. They were stains of some sort   |
|or other. At first I knew not what to   |
|make of this; but soon an inkling of    |
|the truth occurred to me. I remembered  |
|a story of a white man--a whaleman      |
|too--who, falling among the cannibals,  |
|had been tattooed by them. I concluded  |
|that this harpooneer, in the course     |
|of his distant voyages, must have met   |
|with a similar adventure. And what is   |
|it, thought I, after all! It's only his |
|outside; a man can be honest in any sort|
|of skin. But then, what to make of his  |
|unearthly complexion, that part of it, I|
|mean, lying round about, and completely |
|independent of the squares of tattooing.|
|To be sure, it might be nothing but a   |
|good coat of tropical tanning; but I    |
|never heard of a hot sun's tanning a    |
|white man into a purplish yellow one.   |
|However, I had never been in the South  |
|Seas; and perhaps the sun there produced|
|these extraordinary effects upon the    |
|skin. Now, while all these ideas were   |
|passing through me like lightning, this |
|harpooneer never noticed me at all. But,|
|after some difficulty having opened his |
|bag, he commenced fumbling in it, and   |
|presently pulled out a sort of tomahawk,|
|and a seal-skin wallet with the hair    |
|on. Placing these on the old chest in   |
|the middle of the room, he then took    |
|the New Zealand head--a ghastly thing   |
|enough--and crammed it down into the    |
|bag. He now took off his hat--a new     |
|beaver hat--when I came nigh singing    |
|out with fresh surprise. There was no   |
|hair on his head--none to speak of at   |
|least--nothing but a small scalp-knot   |
|twisted up on his forehead. His bald    |
|purplish head now looked for all the    |
|world like a mildewed skull. Had not    |
|the stranger stood between me and the   |
|door, I would have bolted out of it     |
|quicker than ever I bolted a dinner.    |
|Even as it was, I thought something of  |
|slipping out of the window, but it was  |
|the second floor back. I am no coward,  |
|but what to make of this head-peddling  |
|purple rascal altogether passed my      |
|comprehension. Ignorance is the parent  |
|of fear, and being completely nonplussed|
|and confounded about the stranger, I    |
|confess I was now as much afraid of     |
|him as if it was the devil himself      |
|who had thus broken into my room at     |
|the dead of night. In fact, I was so    |
|afraid of him that I was not game enough|
|just then to address him, and demand    |
|a satisfactory answer concerning what   |
|seemed inexplicable in him. Meanwhile,  |
|he continued the business of undressing,|
|and at last showed his chest and arms.  |
|As I live, these covered parts of him   |
|were checkered with the same squares as |
|his face; his back, too, was all over   |
|the same dark squares; he seemed to have|
|been in a Thirty Years' War, and just   |
|escaped from it with a sticking-plaster |
|shirt. Still more, his very legs were   |
|marked, as if a parcel of dark green    |
|frogs were running up the trunks of     |
|young palms. It was now quite plain that|
|he must be some abominable savage or    |
|other shipped aboard of a whaleman in   |
|the South Seas, and so landed in this   |
|Christian country. I quaked to think    |
|of it. A peddler of heads too--perhaps  |
|the heads of his own brothers. He       |
|might take a fancy to mine--heavens!    |
|look at that tomahawk! But there was    |
|no time for shuddering, for now the     |
|savage went about something that        |
|completely fascinated my attention, and |
|convinced me that he must indeed be a   |
|heathen. Going to his heavy grego, or   |
|wrapall, or dreadnaught, which he had   |
|previously hung on a chair, he fumbled  |
|in the pockets, and produced at length  |
|a curious little deformed image with    |
|a hunch on its back, and exactly the    |
|colour of a three days' old Congo baby. |
|Remembering the embalmed head, at       |
|first I almost thought that this black  |
|manikin was a real baby preserved in    |
|some similar manner. But seeing that    |
|it was not at all limber, and that it   |
|glistened a good deal like polished     |
|ebony, I concluded that it must be      |
|nothing but a wooden idol, which indeed |
|it proved to be. For now the savage     |
|goes up to the empty fire-place, and    |
|removing the papered fire-board, sets   |
|up this little hunch-backed image, like |
|a tenpin, between the andirons. The     |
|chimney jambs and all the bricks inside |
|were very sooty, so that I thought this |
|fire-place made a very appropriate      |
|little shrine or chapel for his Congo   |
|idol. I now screwed my eyes hard towards|
|the half hidden image, feeling but ill  |
|at ease meantime--to see what was next  |
|to follow. First he takes about a double|
|handful of shavings out of his grego    |
|pocket, and places them carefully before|
|the idol; then laying a bit of ship     |
|biscuit on top and applying the flame   |
|from the lamp, he kindled the shavings  |
|into a sacrificial blaze. Presently,    |
|after many hasty snatches into the      |
|fire, and still hastier withdrawals     |
|of his fingers (whereby he seemed to    |
|be scorching them badly), he at last    |
|succeeded in drawing out the biscuit;   |
|then blowing off the heat and ashes a   |
|little, he made a polite offer of it    |
|to the little negro. But the little     |
|devil did not seem to fancy such dry    |
|sort of fare at all; he never moved his |
|lips. All these strange antics were     |
|accompanied by still stranger guttural  |
|noises from the devotee, who seemed     |
|to be praying in a sing-song or else    |
|singing some pagan psalmody or other,   |
|during which his face twitched about    |
|in the most unnatural manner. At last   |
|extinguishing the fire, he took the idol|
|up very unceremoniously, and bagged it  |
|again in his grego pocket as carelessly |
|as if he were a sportsman bagging a dead|
|woodcock. All these queer proceedings   |
|increased my uncomfortableness, and     |
|seeing him now exhibiting strong        |
|symptoms of concluding his business     |
|operations, and jumping into bed with   |
|me, I thought it was high time, now or  |
|never, before the light was put out,    |
|to break the spell in which I had so    |
|long been bound. But the interval I     |
|spent in deliberating what to say, was  |
|a fatal one. Taking up his tomahawk     |
|from the table, he examined the head    |
|of it for an instant, and then holding  |
|it to the light, with his mouth at the  |
|handle, he puffed out great clouds of   |
|tobacco smoke. The next moment the      |
|light was extinguished, and this wild   |
|cannibal, tomahawk between his teeth,   |
|sprang into bed with me. I sang out,    |
|I could not help it now; and giving a   |
|sudden grunt of astonishment he began   |
|feeling me. Stammering out something, I |
|knew not what, I rolled away from him   |
|against the wall, and then conjured him,|
|whoever or whatever he might be, to keep|
|quiet, and let me get up and light the  |
|lamp again. But his guttural responses  |
|satisfied me at once that he but ill    |
|comprehended my meaning. "Who-e debel   |
|you?"--he at last said--"you no speak-e,|
|dam-me, I kill-e." And so saying the    |
|lighted tomahawk began flourishing      |
|about me in the dark. "Landlord, for    |
|God's sake, Peter Coffin!" shouted I.   |
|"Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels! save  |
|me!" "Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or |
|dam-me, I kill-e!" again growled the    |
|cannibal, while his horrid flourishings |
|of the tomahawk scattered the hot       |
|tobacco ashes about me till I thought   |
|my linen would get on fire. But thank   |
|heaven, at that moment the landlord came|
|into the room light in hand, and leaping|
|from the bed I ran up to him. "Don't be |
|afraid now," said he, grinning again,   |
|"Queequeg here wouldn't harm a hair     |
|of your head." "Stop your grinning,"    |
|shouted I, "and why didn't you tell     |
|me that that infernal harpooneer was    |
|a cannibal?" "I thought ye know'd       |
|it;--didn't I tell ye, he was a peddlin'|
|heads around town?--but turn flukes     |
|again and go to sleep. Queequeg, look   |
|here--you sabbee me, I sabbee--you this |
|man sleepe you--you sabbee?" "Me sabbee |
|plenty"--grunted Queequeg, puffing away |
|at his pipe and sitting up in bed. "You |
|gettee in," he added, motioning to me   |
|with his tomahawk, and throwing the     |
|clothes to one side. He really did this |
|in not only a civil but a really kind   |
|and charitable way. I stood looking at  |
|him a moment. For all his tattooings    |
|he was on the whole a clean, comely     |
|looking cannibal. What's all this fuss  |
|I have been making about, thought I to  |
|myself--the man's a human being just    |
|as I am: he has just as much reason     |
|to fear me, as I have to be afraid of   |
|him. Better sleep with a sober cannibal |
|than a drunken Christian. "Landlord,"   |
|said I, "tell him to stash his tomahawk |
|there, or pipe, or whatever you call    |
|it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, |
|and I will turn in with him. But I      |
|don't fancy having a man smoking in     |
|bed with me. It's dangerous. Besides,   |
|I ain't insured." This being told to    |
|Queequeg, he at once complied, and      |
|again politely motioned me to get into  |
|bed--rolling over to one side as much   |
|as to say--I won't touch a leg of       |
|ye." "Good night, landlord," said I,    |
|"you may go." I turned in, and never    |
|slept better in my life. Upon waking    |
|next morning about daylight, I found    |
|Queequeg's arm thrown over me in the    |
|most loving and affectionate manner. You|
|had almost thought I had been his wife. |
|The counterpane was of patchwork, full  |
|of odd little parti-coloured squares and|
|triangles; and this arm of his tattooed |
|all over with an interminable Cretan    |
|labyrinth of a figure, no two parts of  |
|which were of one precise shade--owing  |
|I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea |
|unmethodically in sun and shade, his    |
|shirt sleeves irregularly rolled up at  |
|various times--this same arm of his,    |
|I say, looked for all the world like    |
|a strip of that same patchwork quilt.   |
|Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm   |
|did when I first awoke, I could hardly  |
|tell it from the quilt, they so blended |
|their hues together; and it was only by |
|the sense of weight and pressure that   |
|I could tell that Queequeg was hugging  |
|me. My sensations were strange. Let me  |
|try to explain them. When I was a child,|
|I well remember a somewhat similar      |
|circumstance that befell me; whether it |
|was a reality or a dream, I never could |
|entirely settle. The circumstance was   |
|this. I had been cutting up some caper  |
|or other--I think it was trying to crawl|
|up the chimney, as I had seen a little  |
|sweep do a few days previous; and my    |
|stepmother who, somehow or other, was   |
|all the time whipping me, or sending me |
|to bed supperless,--my mother dragged   |
|me by the legs out of the chimney and   |
|packed me off to bed, though it was only|
|two o'clock in the afternoon of the 21st|
|June, the longest day in the year in    |
|our hemisphere. I felt dreadfully. But  |
|there was no help for it, so up stairs  |
|I went to my little room in the third   |
|floor, undressed myself as slowly as    |
|possible so as to kill time, and with   |
|a bitter sigh got between the sheets.   |
|I lay there dismally calculating that   |
|sixteen entire hours must elapse before |
|I could hope for a resurrection. Sixteen|
|hours in bed! the small of my back ached|
|to think of it. And it was so light     |
|too; the sun shining in at the window,  |
|and a great rattling of coaches in the  |
|streets, and the sound of gay voices    |
|all over the house. I felt worse and    |
|worse--at last I got up, dressed, and   |
|softly going down in my stockinged feet,|
|sought out my stepmother, and suddenly  |
|threw myself at her feet, beseeching her|
|as a particular favour to give me a good|
|slippering for my misbehaviour; anything|
|indeed but condemning me to lie abed    |
|such an unendurable length of time. But |
|she was the best and most conscientious |
|of stepmothers, and back I had to go to |
|my room. For several hours I lay there  |
|broad awake, feeling a great deal worse |
|than I have ever done since, even from  |
|the greatest subsequent misfortunes. At |
|last I must have fallen into a troubled |
|nightmare of a doze; and slowly waking  |
|from it--half steeped in dreams--I      |
|opened my eyes, and the before sun-lit  |
|room was now wrapped in outer darkness. |
|Instantly I felt a shock running through|
|all my frame; nothing was to be seen,   |
|and nothing was to be heard; but a      |
|supernatural hand seemed placed in mine.|
|My arm hung over the counterpane, and   |
|the nameless, unimaginable, silent form |
|or phantom, to which the hand belonged, |
|seemed closely seated by my bed-side.   |
|For what seemed ages piled on ages, I   |
|lay there, frozen with the most awful   |
|fears, not daring to drag away my hand; |
|yet ever thinking that if I could but   |
|stir it one single inch, the horrid     |
|spell would be broken. I knew not how   |
|this consciousness at last glided away  |
|from me; but waking in the morning, I   |
|shudderingly remembered it all, and for |
|days and weeks and months afterwards I  |
|lost myself in confounding attempts to  |
|explain the mystery. Nay, to this very  |
|hour, I often puzzle myself with it.    |
|Now, take away the awful fear, and my   |
|sensations at feeling the supernatural  |
|hand in mine were very similar, in      |
|their strangeness, to those which I     |
|experienced on waking up and seeing     |
|Queequeg's pagan arm thrown round me.   |
|But at length all the past night's      |
|events soberly recurred, one by one,    |
|in fixed reality, and then I lay only   |
|alive to the comical predicament. For   |
|though I tried to move his arm--unlock  |
|his bridegroom clasp--yet, sleeping as  |
|he was, he still hugged me tightly,     |
|as though naught but death should       |
|part us twain. I now strove to rouse    |
|him--"Queequeg!"--but his only answer   |
|was a snore. I then rolled over,        |
|my neck feeling as if it were in a      |
|horse-collar; and suddenly felt a slight|
|scratch. Throwing aside the counterpane,|
|there lay the tomahawk sleeping by      |
|the savage's side, as if it were a      |
|hatchet-faced baby. A pretty pickle,    |
|truly, thought I; abed here in a strange|
|house in the broad day, with a cannibal |
|and a tomahawk! "Queequeg!--in the name |
|of goodness, Queequeg, wake!" At length,|
|by dint of much wriggling, and loud     |
|and incessant expostulations upon the   |
|unbecomingness of his hugging a fellow  |
|male in that matrimonial sort of style, |
|I succeeded in extracting a grunt; and  |
|presently, he drew back his arm, shook  |
|himself all over like a Newfoundland    |
|dog just from the water, and sat up in  |
|bed, stiff as a pike-staff, looking at  |
|me, and rubbing his eyes as if he did   |
|not altogether remember how I came to   |
|be there, though a dim consciousness of |
|knowing something about me seemed slowly|
|dawning over him. Meanwhile, I lay      |
|quietly eyeing him, having no serious   |
|misgivings now, and bent upon narrowly  |
|observing so curious a creature. When,  |
|at last, his mind seemed made up        |
|touching the character of his bedfellow,|
|and he became, as it were, reconciled to|
|the fact; he jumped out upon the floor, |
|and by certain signs and sounds gave me |
|to understand that, if it pleased me,   |
|he would dress first and then leave me  |
|to dress afterwards, leaving the whole  |
|apartment to myself. Thinks I, Queequeg,|
|under the circumstances, this is a very |
|civilized overture; but, the truth is,  |
|these savages have an innate sense of   |
|delicacy, say what you will; it is      |
|marvellous how essentially polite they  |
|are. I pay this particular compliment to|
|Queequeg, because he treated me with so |
|much civility and consideration, while  |
|I was guilty of great rudeness; staring |
|at him from the bed, and watching all   |
|his toilette motions; for the time my   |
|curiosity getting the better of my      |
|breeding. Nevertheless, a man like      |
|Queequeg you don't see every day, he    |
|and his ways were well worth unusual    |
|regarding. He commenced dressing at     |
|top by donning his beaver hat, a very   |
|tall one, by the by, and then--still    |
|minus his trowsers--he hunted up his    |
|boots. What under the heavens he did    |
|it for, I cannot tell, but his next     |
|movement was to crush himself--boots    |
|in hand, and hat on--under the bed;     |
|when, from sundry violent gaspings and  |
|strainings, I inferred he was hard at   |
|work booting himself; though by no law  |
|of propriety that I ever heard of, is   |
|any man required to be private when     |
|putting on his boots. But Queequeg,     |
|do you see, was a creature in the       |
|transition stage--neither caterpillar   |
|nor butterfly. He was just enough       |
|civilized to show off his outlandishness|
|in the strangest possible manners. His  |
|education was not yet completed. He was |
|an undergraduate. If he had not been a  |
|small degree civilized, he very probably|
|would not have troubled himself with    |
|boots at all; but then, if he had not   |
|been still a savage, he never would have|
|dreamt of getting under the bed to put  |
|them on. At last, he emerged with his   |
|hat very much dented and crushed down   |
|over his eyes, and began creaking and   |
|limping about the room, as if, not being|
|much accustomed to boots, his pair of   |
|damp, wrinkled cowhide ones--probably   |
|not made to order either--rather pinched|
|and tormented him at the first go off   |
|of a bitter cold morning. Seeing, now,  |
|that there were no curtains to the      |
|window, and that the street being very  |
|narrow, the house opposite commanded a  |
|plain view into the room, and observing |
|more and more the indecorous figure     |
|that Queequeg made, staving about with  |
|little else but his hat and boots on;   |
|I begged him as well as I could, to     |
|accelerate his toilet somewhat, and     |
|particularly to get into his pantaloons |
|as soon as possible. He complied, and   |
|then proceeded to wash himself. At that |
|time in the morning any Christian would |
|have washed his face; but Queequeg, to  |
|my amazement, contented himself with    |
|restricting his ablutions to his chest, |
|arms, and hands. He then donned his     |
|waistcoat, and taking up a piece of hard|
|soap on the wash-stand centre table,    |
|dipped it into water and commenced      |
|lathering his face. I was watching to   |
|see where he kept his razor, when lo and|
|behold, he takes the harpoon from the   |
|bed corner, slips out the long wooden   |
|stock, unsheathes the head, whets it    |
|a little on his boot, and striding up   |
|to the bit of mirror against the wall,  |
|begins a vigorous scraping, or rather   |
|harpooning of his cheeks. Thinks I,     |
|Queequeg, this is using Rogers's best   |
|cutlery with a vengeance. Afterwards    |
|I wondered the less at this operation   |
|when I came to know of what fine steel  |
|the head of a harpoon is made, and how  |
|exceedingly sharp the long straight     |
|edges are always kept. The rest of his  |
|toilet was soon achieved, and he proudly|
|marched out of the room, wrapped up     |
|in his great pilot monkey jacket, and   |
|sporting his harpoon like a marshal's   |
|baton. I quickly followed suit, and     |
|descending into the bar-room accosted   |
|the grinning landlord very pleasantly. I|
|cherished no malice towards him, though |
|he had been skylarking with me not a    |
|little in the matter of my bedfellow.   |
|However, a good laugh is a mighty good  |
|thing, and rather too scarce a good     |
|thing; the more's the pity. So, if any  |
|one man, in his own proper person,      |
|afford stuff for a good joke to anybody,|
|let him not be backward, but let him    |
|cheerfully allow himself to spend and   |
|be spent in that way. And the man that  |
|has anything bountifully laughable about|
|him, be sure there is more in that man  |
|than you perhaps think for. The bar-room|
|was now full of the boarders who had    |
|been dropping in the night previous,    |
|and whom I had not as yet had a good    |
|look at. They were nearly all whalemen; |
|chief mates, and second mates, and      |
|third mates, and sea carpenters, and    |
|sea coopers, and sea blacksmiths, and   |
|harpooneers, and ship keepers; a brown  |
|and brawny company, with bosky beards;  |
|an unshorn, shaggy set, all wearing     |
|monkey jackets for morning gowns. You   |
|could pretty plainly tell how long each |
|one had been ashore. This young fellow's|
|healthy cheek is like a sun-toasted pear|
|in hue, and would seem to smell almost  |
|as musky; he cannot have been three     |
|days landed from his Indian voyage.     |
|That man next him looks a few shades    |
|lighter; you might say a touch of satin |
|wood is in him. In the complexion of a  |
|third still lingers a tropic tawn, but  |
|slightly bleached withal; HE doubtless  |
|has tarried whole weeks ashore. But     |
|who could show a cheek like Queequeg?   |
|which, barred with various tints,       |
|seemed like the Andes' western slope,   |
|to show forth in one array, contrasting |
|climates, zone by zone. "Grub, ho!" now |
|cried the landlord, flinging open a     |
|door, and in we went to breakfast. They |
|say that men who have seen the world,   |
|thereby become quite at ease in manner, |
|quite self-possessed in company. Not    |
|always, though: Ledyard, the great New  |
|England traveller, and Mungo Park, the  |
|Scotch one; of all men, they possessed  |
|the least assurance in the parlor. But  |
|perhaps the mere crossing of Siberia in |
|a sledge drawn by dogs as Ledyard did,  |
|or the taking a long solitary walk on   |
|an empty stomach, in the negro heart    |
|of Africa, which was the sum of poor    |
|Mungo's performances--this kind of      |
|travel, I say, may not be the very best |
|mode of attaining a high social polish. |
|Still, for the most part, that sort     |
|of thing is to be had anywhere. These   |
|reflections just here are occasioned    |
|by the circumstance that after we were  |
|all seated at the table, and I was      |
|preparing to hear some good stories     |
|about whaling; to my no small surprise, |
|nearly every man maintained a profound  |
|silence. And not only that, but they    |
|looked embarrassed. Yes, here were a    |
|set of sea-dogs, many of whom without   |
|the slightest bashfulness had boarded   |
|great whales on the high seas--entire   |
|strangers to them--and duelled them dead|
|without winking; and yet, here they     |
|sat at a social breakfast table--all    |
|of the same calling, all of kindred     |
|tastes--looking round as sheepishly at  |
|each other as though they had never     |
|been out of sight of some sheepfold     |
|among the Green Mountains. A curious    |
|sight; these bashful bears, these       |
|timid warrior whalemen! But as for      |
|Queequeg--why, Queequeg sat there among |
|them--at the head of the table, too,    |
|it so chanced; as cool as an icicle.    |
|To be sure I cannot say much for his    |
|breeding. His greatest admirer could not|
|have cordially justified his bringing   |
|his harpoon into breakfast with him,    |
|and using it there without ceremony;    |
|reaching over the table with it, to     |
|the imminent jeopardy of many heads,    |
|and grappling the beefsteaks towards    |
|him. But THAT was certainly very coolly |
|done by him, and every one knows that   |
|in most people's estimation, to do      |
|anything coolly is to do it genteelly.  |
|We will not speak of all Queequeg's     |
|peculiarities here; how he eschewed     |
|coffee and hot rolls, and applied his   |
|undivided attention to beefsteaks, done |
|rare. Enough, that when breakfast was   |
|over he withdrew like the rest into the |
|public room, lighted his tomahawk-pipe, |
|and was sitting there quietly digesting |
|and smoking with his inseparable hat on,|
|when I sallied out for a stroll. If I   |
|had been astonished at first catching a |
|glimpse of so outlandish an individual  |
|as Queequeg circulating among the polite|
|society of a civilized town, that       |
|astonishment soon departed upon taking  |
|my first daylight stroll through the    |
|streets of New Bedford. In thoroughfares|
|nigh the docks, any considerable        |
|seaport will frequently offer to view   |
|the queerest looking nondescripts       |
|from foreign parts. Even in Broadway    |
|and Chestnut streets, Mediterranean     |
|mariners will sometimes jostle the      |
|affrighted ladies. Regent Street is     |
|not unknown to Lascars and Malays; and  |
|at Bombay, in the Apollo Green, live    |
|Yankees have often scared the natives.  |
|But New Bedford beats all Water Street  |
|and Wapping. In these last-mentioned    |
|haunts you see only sailors; but in New |
|Bedford, actual cannibals stand chatting|
|at street corners; savages outright;    |
|many of whom yet carry on their bones   |
|unholy flesh. It makes a stranger       |
|stare. But, besides the Feegeeans,      |
|Tongatobooarrs, Erromanggoans,          |
|Pannangians, and Brighggians, and,      |
|besides the wild specimens of the       |
|whaling-craft which unheeded reel about |
|the streets, you will see other sights  |
|still more curious, certainly more      |
|comical. There weekly arrive in this    |
|town scores of green Vermonters and New |
|Hampshire men, all athirst for gain and |
|glory in the fishery. They are mostly   |
|young, of stalwart frames; fellows who  |
|have felled forests, and now seek to    |
|drop the axe and snatch the whale-lance.|
|Many are as green as the Green Mountains|
|whence they came. In some things you    |
|would think them but a few hours old.   |
|Look there! that chap strutting round   |
|the corner. He wears a beaver hat and   |
|swallow-tailed coat, girdled with a     |
|sailor-belt and sheath-knife. Here      |
|comes another with a sou'-wester and    |
|a bombazine cloak. No town-bred dandy   |
|will compare with a country-bred one--I |
|mean a downright bumpkin dandy--a fellow|
|that, in the dog-days, will mow his two |
|acres in buckskin gloves for fear of    |
|tanning his hands. Now when a country   |
|dandy like this takes it into his head  |
|to make a distinguished reputation,     |
|and joins the great whale-fishery,      |
|you should see the comical things he    |
|does upon reaching the seaport. In      |
|bespeaking his sea-outfit, he orders    |
|bell-buttons to his waistcoats; straps  |
|to his canvas trowsers. Ah, poor        |
|Hay-Seed! how bitterly will burst those |
|straps in the first howling gale, when  |
|thou art driven, straps, buttons, and   |
|all, down the throat of the tempest.    |
|But think not that this famous town     |
|has only harpooneers, cannibals, and    |
|bumpkins to show her visitors. Not at   |
|all. Still New Bedford is a queer place.|
|Had it not been for us whalemen, that   |
|tract of land would this day perhaps    |
|have been in as howling condition       |
|as the coast of Labrador. As it is,     |
|parts of her back country are enough    |
|to frighten one, they look so bony.     |
|The town itself is perhaps the dearest  |
|place to live in, in all New England.   |
|It is a land of oil, true enough: but   |
|not like Canaan; a land, also, of corn  |
|and wine. The streets do not run with   |
|milk; nor in the spring-time do they    |
|pave them with fresh eggs. Yet, in spite|
|of this, nowhere in all America will    |
|you find more patrician-like houses;    |
|parks and gardens more opulent, than    |
|in New Bedford. Whence came they? how   |
|planted upon this once scraggy scoria   |
|of a country? Go and gaze upon the iron |
|emblematical harpoons round yonder lofty|
|mansion, and your question will be      |
|answered. Yes; all these brave houses   |
|and flowery gardens came from the       |
|Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans.   |
|One and all, they were harpooned and    |
|dragged up hither from the bottom of    |
|the sea. Can Herr Alexander perform a   |
|feat like that? In New Bedford, fathers,|
|they say, give whales for dowers to     |
|their daughters, and portion off their  |
|nieces with a few porpoises a-piece.    |
|You must go to New Bedford to see a     |
|brilliant wedding; for, they say, they  |
|have reservoirs of oil in every house,  |
|and every night recklessly burn their   |
|lengths in spermaceti candles. In summer|
|time, the town is sweet to see; full of |
|fine maples--long avenues of green and  |
|gold. And in August, high in air, the   |
|beautiful and bountiful horse-chestnuts,|
|candelabra-wise, proffer the passer-by  |
|their tapering upright cones of         |
|congregated blossoms. So omnipotent is  |
|art; which in many a district of New    |
|Bedford has superinduced bright terraces|
|of flowers upon the barren refuse rocks |
|thrown aside at creation's final day.   |
|And the women of New Bedford, they bloom|
|like their own red roses. But roses     |
|only bloom in summer; whereas the fine  |
|carnation of their cheeks is perennial  |
|as sunlight in the seventh heavens.     |
|Elsewhere match that bloom of theirs,   |
|ye cannot, save in Salem, where they    |
|tell me the young girls breathe such    |
|musk, their sailor sweethearts smell    |
|them miles off shore, as though they    |
|were drawing nigh the odorous Moluccas  |
|instead of the Puritanic sands. In      |
|this same New Bedford there stands a    |
|Whaleman's Chapel, and few are the      |
|moody fishermen, shortly bound for the  |
|Indian Ocean or Pacific, who fail to    |
|make a Sunday visit to the spot. I am   |
|sure that I did not. Returning from my  |
|first morning stroll, I again sallied   |
|out upon this special errand. The sky   |
|had changed from clear, sunny cold, to  |
|driving sleet and mist. Wrapping myself |
|in my shaggy jacket of the cloth called |
|bearskin, I fought my way against the   |
|stubborn storm. Entering, I found a     |
|small scattered congregation of sailors,|
|and sailors' wives and widows. A muffled|
|silence reigned, only broken at times by|
|the shrieks of the storm. Each silent   |
|worshipper seemed purposely sitting     |
|apart from the other, as if each silent |
|grief were insular and incommunicable.  |
|The chaplain had not yet arrived; and   |
|there these silent islands of men and   |
|women sat steadfastly eyeing several    |
|marble tablets, with black borders,     |
|masoned into the wall on either side the|
|pulpit. Three of them ran something like|
|the following, but I do not pretend to  |
|quote:-- SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN   |
|TALBOT, Who, at the age of eighteen,    |
|was lost overboard, Near the Isle of    |
|Desolation, off Patagonia, November     |
|1st, 1836. THIS TABLET Is erected to    |
|his Memory BY HIS SISTER. _____________ |
|SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT LONG,    |
|WILLIS ELLERY, NATHAN COLEMAN, WALTER   |
|CANNY, SETH MACY, AND SAMUEL GLEIG,     |
|Forming one of the boats' crews OF THE  |
|SHIP ELIZA Who were towed out of sight  |
|by a Whale, On the Off-shore Ground in  |
|the PACIFIC, December 31st, 1839. THIS  |
|MARBLE Is here placed by their surviving|
|SHIPMATES. _____________ SACRED TO THE  |
|MEMORY OF The late CAPTAIN EZEKIEL      |
|HARDY, Who in the bows of his boat was  |
|killed by a Sperm Whale on the coast    |
|of Japan, AUGUST 3d, 1833. THIS TABLET  |
|Is erected to his Memory BY HIS WIDOW.  |
|Shaking off the sleet from my ice-glazed|
|hat and jacket, I seated myself near the|
|door, and turning sideways was surprised|
|to see Queequeg near me. Affected by    |
|the solemnity of the scene, there was a |
|wondering gaze of incredulous curiosity |
|in his countenance. This savage was     |
|the only person present who seemed to   |
|notice my entrance; because he was      |
|the only one who could not read, and,   |
|therefore, was not reading those frigid |
|inscriptions on the wall. Whether any   |
|of the relatives of the seamen whose    |
|names appeared there were now among     |
|the congregation, I knew not; but so    |
|many are the unrecorded accidents in    |
|the fishery, and so plainly did several |
|women present wear the countenance if   |
|not the trappings of some unceasing     |
|grief, that I feel sure that here before|
|me were assembled those, in whose       |
|unhealing hearts the sight of those     |
|bleak tablets sympathetically caused    |
|the old wounds to bleed afresh. Oh! ye  |
|whose dead lie buried beneath the green |
|grass; who standing among flowers can   |
|say--here, HERE lies my beloved; ye know|
|not the desolation that broods in bosoms|
|like these. What bitter blanks in those |
|black-bordered marbles which cover no   |
|ashes! What despair in those immovable  |
|inscriptions! What deadly voids and     |
|unbidden infidelities in the lines that |
|seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse |
|resurrections to the beings who have    |
|placelessly perished without a grave.   |
|As well might those tablets stand in    |
|the cave of Elephanta as here. In what  |
|census of living creatures, the dead of |
|mankind are included; why it is that a  |
|universal proverb says of them, that    |
|they tell no tales, though containing   |
|more secrets than the Goodwin Sands; how|
|it is that to his name who yesterday    |
|departed for the other world, we prefix |
|so significant and infidel a word, and  |
|yet do not thus entitle him, if he but  |
|embarks for the remotest Indies of this |
|living earth; why the Life Insurance    |
|Companies pay death-forfeitures upon    |
|immortals; in what eternal, unstirring  |
|paralysis, and deadly, hopeless trance, |
|yet lies antique Adam who died sixty    |
|round centuries ago; how it is that     |
|we still refuse to be comforted for     |
|those who we nevertheless maintain are  |
|dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all  |
|the living so strive to hush all the    |
|dead; wherefore but the rumor of a      |
|knocking in a tomb will terrify a whole |
|city. All these things are not without  |
|their meanings. But Faith, like a       |
|jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even |
|from these dead doubts she gathers her  |
|most vital hope. It needs scarcely to   |
|be told, with what feelings, on the eve |
|of a Nantucket voyage, I regarded those |
|marble tablets, and by the murky light  |
|of that darkened, doleful day read the  |
|fate of the whalemen who had gone before|
|me. Yes, Ishmael, the same fate may be  |
|thine. But somehow I grew merry again.  |
|Delightful inducements to embark, fine  |
|chance for promotion, it seems--aye,    |
|a stove boat will make me an immortal   |
|by brevet. Yes, there is death in this  |
|business of whaling--a speechlessly     |
|quick chaotic bundling of a man into    |
|Eternity. But what then? Methinks we    |
|have hugely mistaken this matter of     |
|Life and Death. Methinks that what they |
|call my shadow here on earth is my true |
|substance. Methinks that in looking at  |
|things spiritual, we are too much like  |
|oysters observing the sun through the   |
|water, and thinking that thick water    |
|the thinnest of air. Methinks my body   |
|is but the lees of my better being. In  |
|fact take my body who will, take it I   |
|say, it is not me. And therefore three  |
|cheers for Nantucket; and come a stove  |
|boat and stove body when they will, for |
|stave my soul, Jove himself cannot. I   |
|had not been seated very long ere a     |
|man of a certain venerable robustness   |
|entered; immediately as the storm-pelted|
|door flew back upon admitting him, a    |
|quick regardful eyeing of him by all    |
|the congregation, sufficiently attested |
|that this fine old man was the chaplain.|
|Yes, it was the famous Father Mapple,   |
|so called by the whalemen, among whom   |
|he was a very great favourite. He had   |
|been a sailor and a harpooneer in his   |
|youth, but for many years past had      |
|dedicated his life to the ministry. At  |
|the time I now write of, Father Mapple  |
|was in the hardy winter of a healthy    |
|old age; that sort of old age which     |
|seems merging into a second flowering   |
|youth, for among all the fissures of    |
|his wrinkles, there shone certain mild  |
|gleams of a newly developing bloom--the |
|spring verdure peeping forth even       |
|beneath February's snow. No one having  |
|previously heard his history, could for |
|the first time behold Father Mapple     |
|without the utmost interest, because    |
|there were certain engrafted clerical   |
|peculiarities about him, imputable to   |
|that adventurous maritime life he had   |
|led. When he entered I observed that    |
|he carried no umbrella, and certainly   |
|had not come in his carriage, for his   |
|tarpaulin hat ran down with melting     |
|sleet, and his great pilot cloth jacket |
|seemed almost to drag him to the floor  |
|with the weight of the water it had     |
|absorbed. However, hat and coat and     |
|overshoes were one by one removed, and  |
|hung up in a little space in an adjacent|
|corner; when, arrayed in a decent suit, |
|he quietly approached the pulpit. Like  |
|most old fashioned pulpits, it was a    |
|very lofty one, and since a regular     |
|stairs to such a height would, by its   |
|long angle with the floor, seriously    |
|contract the already small area of the  |
|chapel, the architect, it seemed, had   |
|acted upon the hint of Father Mapple,   |
|and finished the pulpit without a       |
|stairs, substituting a perpendicular    |
|side ladder, like those used in mounting|
|a ship from a boat at sea. The wife of a|
|whaling captain had provided the chapel |
|with a handsome pair of red worsted     |
|man-ropes for this ladder, which, being |
|itself nicely headed, and stained with a|
|mahogany colour, the whole contrivance, |
|considering what manner of chapel it    |
|was, seemed by no means in bad taste.   |
|Halting for an instant at the foot of   |
|the ladder, and with both hands grasping|
|the ornamental knobs of the man-ropes,  |
|Father Mapple cast a look upwards,      |
|and then with a truly sailor-like but   |
|still reverential dexterity, hand       |
|over hand, mounted the steps as if      |
|ascending the main-top of his vessel.   |
|The perpendicular parts of this side    |
|ladder, as is usually the case with     |
|swinging ones, were of cloth-covered    |
|rope, only the rounds were of wood, so  |
|that at every step there was a joint. At|
|my first glimpse of the pulpit, it had  |
|not escaped me that however convenient  |
|for a ship, these joints in the present |
|instance seemed unnecessary. For I      |
|was not prepared to see Father Mapple   |
|after gaining the height, slowly turn   |
|round, and stooping over the pulpit,    |
|deliberately drag up the ladder step    |
|by step, till the whole was deposited   |
|within, leaving him impregnable in his  |
|little Quebec. I pondered some time     |
|without fully comprehending the reason  |
|for this. Father Mapple enjoyed such    |
|a wide reputation for sincerity and     |
|sanctity, that I could not suspect      |
|him of courting notoriety by any mere   |
|tricks of the stage. No, thought I,     |
|there must be some sober reason for this|
|thing; furthermore, it must symbolize   |
|something unseen. Can it be, then, that |
|by that act of physical isolation, he   |
|signifies his spiritual withdrawal for  |
|the time, from all outward worldly ties |
|and connexions? Yes, for replenished    |
|with the meat and wine of the word, to  |
|the faithful man of God, this pulpit, I |
|see, is a self-containing stronghold--a |
|lofty Ehrenbreitstein, with a perennial |
|well of water within the walls. But the |
|side ladder was not the only strange    |
|feature of the place, borrowed from the |
|chaplain's former sea-farings. Between  |
|the marble cenotaphs on either hand     |
|of the pulpit, the wall which formed    |
|its back was adorned with a large       |
|painting representing a gallant ship    |
|beating against a terrible storm off    |
|a lee coast of black rocks and snowy    |
|breakers. But high above the flying scud|
|and dark-rolling clouds, there floated  |
|a little isle of sunlight, from which   |
|beamed forth an angel's face; and this  |
|bright face shed a distinct spot of     |
|radiance upon the ship's tossed deck,   |
|something like that silver plate now    |
|inserted into the Victory's plank where |
|Nelson fell. "Ah, noble ship," the angel|
|seemed to say, "beat on, beat on, thou  |
|noble ship, and bear a hardy helm; for  |
|lo! the sun is breaking through; the    |
|clouds are rolling off--serenest azure  |
|is at hand." Nor was the pulpit itself  |
|without a trace of the same sea-taste   |
|that had achieved the ladder and the    |
|picture. Its panelled front was in the  |
|likeness of a ship's bluff bows, and the|
|Holy Bible rested on a projecting piece |
|of scroll work, fashioned after a ship's|
|fiddle-headed beak. What could be more  |
|full of meaning?--for the pulpit is ever|
|this earth's foremost part; all the rest|
|comes in its rear; the pulpit leads the |
|world. From thence it is the storm of   |
|God's quick wrath is first descried,    |
|and the bow must bear the earliest      |
|brunt. From thence it is the God of     |
|breezes fair or foul is first invoked   |
|for favourable winds. Yes, the world's  |
|a ship on its passage out, and not a    |
|voyage complete; and the pulpit is its  |
|prow. Father Mapple rose, and in a mild |
|voice of unassuming authority ordered   |
|the scattered people to condense.       |
|"Starboard gangway, there! side away to |
|larboard--larboard gangway to starboard!|
|Midships! midships!" There was a low    |
|rumbling of heavy sea-boots among the   |
|benches, and a still slighter shuffling |
|of women's shoes, and all was quiet     |
|again, and every eye on the preacher. He|
|paused a little; then kneeling in the   |
|pulpit's bows, folded his large brown   |
|hands across his chest, uplifted his    |
|closed eyes, and offered a prayer so    |
|deeply devout that he seemed kneeling   |
|and praying at the bottom of the sea.   |
|This ended, in prolonged solemn tones,  |
|like the continual tolling of a bell in |
|a ship that is foundering at sea in a   |
|fog--in such tones he commenced reading |
|the following hymn; but changing his    |
|manner towards the concluding stanzas,  |
|burst forth with a pealing exultation   |
|and joy-- "The ribs and terrors in the  |
|whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom,   |
|While all God's sun-lit waves rolled    |
|by, And lift me deepening down to doom. |
|"I saw the opening maw of hell, With    |
|endless pains and sorrows there; Which  |
|none but they that feel can tell-- Oh,  |
|I was plunging to despair. "In black    |
|distress, I called my God, When I could |
|scarce believe him mine, He bowed his   |
|ear to my complaints-- No more the whale|
|did me confine. "With speed he flew     |
|to my relief, As on a radiant dolphin   |
|borne; Awful, yet bright, as lightning  |
|shone The face of my Deliverer God.     |
|"My song for ever shall record That     |
|terrible, that joyful hour; I give the  |
|glory to my God, His all the mercy and  |
|the power. Nearly all joined in singing |
|this hymn, which swelled high above the |
|howling of the storm. A brief pause     |
|ensued; the preacher slowly turned      |
|over the leaves of the Bible, and at    |
|last, folding his hand down upon the    |
|proper page, said: "Beloved shipmates,  |
|clinch the last verse of the first      |
|chapter of Jonah--'And God had prepared |
|a great fish to swallow up Jonah.'"     |
|"Shipmates, this book, containing only  |
|four chapters--four yarns--is one of the|
|smallest strands in the mighty cable    |
|of the Scriptures. Yet what depths of   |
|the soul does Jonah's deep sealine      |
|sound! what a pregnant lesson to us is  |
|this prophet! What a noble thing is     |
|that canticle in the fish's belly! How  |
|billow-like and boisterously grand! We  |
|feel the floods surging over us; we     |
|sound with him to the kelpy bottom of   |
|the waters; sea-weed and all the slime  |
|of the sea is about us! But WHAT is this|
|lesson that the book of Jonah teaches?  |
|Shipmates, it is a two-stranded lesson; |
|a lesson to us all as sinful men, and a |
|lesson to me as a pilot of the living   |
|God. As sinful men, it is a lesson to   |
|us all, because it is a story of the    |
|sin, hard-heartedness, suddenly awakened|
|fears, the swift punishment, repentance,|
|prayers, and finally the deliverance and|
|joy of Jonah. As with all sinners among |
|men, the sin of this son of Amittai     |
|was in his wilful disobedience of the   |
|command of God--never mind now what that|
|command was, or how conveyed--which     |
|he found a hard command. But all the    |
|things that God would have us do are    |
|hard for us to do--remember that--and   |
|hence, he oftener commands us than      |
|endeavors to persuade. And if we obey   |
|God, we must disobey ourselves; and it  |
|is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein|
|the hardness of obeying God consists.   |
|"With this sin of disobedience in him,  |
|Jonah still further flouts at God, by   |
|seeking to flee from Him. He thinks     |
|that a ship made by men will carry      |
|him into countries where God does not   |
|reign, but only the Captains of this    |
|earth. He skulks about the wharves of   |
|Joppa, and seeks a ship that's bound    |
|for Tarshish. There lurks, perhaps,     |
|a hitherto unheeded meaning here. By    |
|all accounts Tarshish could have been   |
|no other city than the modern Cadiz.    |
|That's the opinion of learned men. And  |
|where is Cadiz, shipmates? Cadiz is in  |
|Spain; as far by water, from Joppa, as  |
|Jonah could possibly have sailed in     |
|those ancient days, when the Atlantic   |
|was an almost unknown sea. Because      |
|Joppa, the modern Jaffa, shipmates,     |
|is on the most easterly coast of the    |
|Mediterranean, the Syrian; and Tarshish |
|or Cadiz more than two thousand miles   |
|to the westward from that, just outside |
|the Straits of Gibraltar. See ye not    |
|then, shipmates, that Jonah sought to   |
|flee world-wide from God? Miserable     |
|man! Oh! most contemptible and worthy   |
|of all scorn; with slouched hat and     |
|guilty eye, skulking from his God;      |
|prowling among the shipping like a vile |
|burglar hastening to cross the seas. So |
|disordered, self-condemning is his look,|
|that had there been policemen in those  |
|days, Jonah, on the mere suspicion of   |
|something wrong, had been arrested ere  |
|he touched a deck. How plainly he's a   |
|fugitive! no baggage, not a hat-box,    |
|valise, or carpet-bag,--no friends      |
|accompany him to the wharf with their   |
|adieux. At last, after much dodging     |
|search, he finds the Tarshish ship      |
|receiving the last items of her cargo;  |
|and as he steps on board to see its     |
|Captain in the cabin, all the sailors   |
|for the moment desist from hoisting in  |
|the goods, to mark the stranger's evil  |
|eye. Jonah sees this; but in vain he    |
|tries to look all ease and confidence;  |
|in vain essays his wretched smile.      |
|Strong intuitions of the man assure     |
|the mariners he can be no innocent. In  |
|their gamesome but still serious way,   |
|one whispers to the other--"Jack, he's  |
|robbed a widow;" or, "Joe, do you mark  |
|him; he's a bigamist;" or, "Harry lad, I|
|guess he's the adulterer that broke jail|
|in old Gomorrah, or belike, one of the  |
|missing murderers from Sodom." Another  |
|runs to read the bill that's stuck      |
|against the spile upon the wharf to     |
|which the ship is moored, offering five |
|hundred gold coins for the apprehension |
|of a parricide, and containing a        |
|description of his person. He reads,    |
|and looks from Jonah to the bill; while |
|all his sympathetic shipmates now crowd |
|round Jonah, prepared to lay their hands|
|upon him. Frighted Jonah trembles, and  |
|summoning all his boldness to his face, |
|only looks so much the more a coward.   |
|He will not confess himself suspected;  |
|but that itself is strong suspicion.    |
|So he makes the best of it; and when    |
|the sailors find him not to be the man  |
|that is advertised, they let him pass,  |
|and he descends into the cabin. "'Who's |
|there?' cries the Captain at his busy   |
|desk, hurriedly making out his papers   |
|for the Customs--'Who's there?' Oh! how |
|that harmless question mangles Jonah!   |
|For the instant he almost turns to flee |
|again. But he rallies. 'I seek a passage|
|in this ship to Tarshish; how soon sail |
|ye, sir?' Thus far the busy Captain had |
|not looked up to Jonah, though the man  |
|now stands before him; but no sooner    |
|does he hear that hollow voice, than    |
|he darts a scrutinizing glance. 'We     |
|sail with the next coming tide,' at     |
|last he slowly answered, still intently |
|eyeing him. 'No sooner, sir?'--'Soon    |
|enough for any honest man that goes a   |
|passenger.' Ha! Jonah, that's another   |
|stab. But he swiftly calls away the     |
|Captain from that scent. 'I'll sail with|
|ye,'--he says,--'the passage money how  |
|much is that?--I'll pay now.' For it is |
|particularly written, shipmates, as if  |
|it were a thing not to be overlooked    |
|in this history, 'that he paid the      |
|fare thereof' ere the craft did sail.   |
|And taken with the context, this is     |
|full of meaning. "Now Jonah's Captain,  |
|shipmates, was one whose discernment    |
|detects crime in any, but whose cupidity|
|exposes it only in the penniless. In    |
|this world, shipmates, sin that pays its|
|way can travel freely, and without a    |
|passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper,  |
|is stopped at all frontiers. So Jonah's |
|Captain prepares to test the length of  |
|Jonah's purse, ere he judge him openly. |
|He charges him thrice the usual sum; and|
|it's assented to. Then the Captain knows|
|that Jonah is a fugitive; but at the    |
|same time resolves to help a flight that|
|paves its rear with gold. Yet when Jonah|
|fairly takes out his purse, prudent     |
|suspicions still molest the Captain. He |
|rings every coin to find a counterfeit. |
|Not a forger, any way, he mutters; and  |
|Jonah is put down for his passage.      |
|'Point out my state-room, Sir,' says    |
|Jonah now, 'I'm travel-weary; I need    |
|sleep.' 'Thou lookest like it,' says    |
|the Captain, 'there's thy room.' Jonah  |
|enters, and would lock the door, but    |
|the lock contains no key. Hearing him   |
|foolishly fumbling there, the Captain   |
|laughs lowly to himself, and mutters    |
|something about the doors of convicts'  |
|cells being never allowed to be locked  |
|within. All dressed and dusty as he is, |
|Jonah throws himself into his berth,    |
|and finds the little state-room ceiling |
|almost resting on his forehead. The air |
|is close, and Jonah gasps. Then, in that|
|contracted hole, sunk, too, beneath     |
|the ship's water-line, Jonah feels the  |
|heralding presentiment of that stifling |
|hour, when the whale shall hold him     |
|in the smallest of his bowels' wards.   |
|"Screwed at its axis against the side,  |
|a swinging lamp slightly oscillates in  |
|Jonah's room; and the ship, heeling     |
|over towards the wharf with the weight  |
|of the last bales received, the lamp,   |
|flame and all, though in slight motion, |
|still maintains a permanent obliquity   |
|with reference to the room; though, in  |
|truth, infallibly straight itself, it   |
|but made obvious the false, lying levels|
|among which it hung. The lamp alarms and|
|frightens Jonah; as lying in his berth  |
|his tormented eyes roll round the place,|
|and this thus far successful fugitive   |
|finds no refuge for his restless glance.|
|But that contradiction in the lamp more |
|and more appals him. The floor, the     |
|ceiling, and the side, are all awry.    |
|'Oh! so my conscience hangs in me!' he  |
|groans, 'straight upwards, so it burns; |
|but the chambers of my soul are all in  |
|crookedness!' "Like one who after a     |
|night of drunken revelry hies to his    |
|bed, still reeling, but with conscience |
|yet pricking him, as the plungings of   |
|the Roman race-horse but so much the    |
|more strike his steel tags into him;    |
|as one who in that miserable plight     |
|still turns and turns in giddy anguish, |
|praying God for annihilation until the  |
|fit be passed; and at last amid the     |
|whirl of woe he feels, a deep stupor    |
|steals over him, as over the man who    |
|bleeds to death, for conscience is the  |
|wound, and there's naught to staunch    |
|it; so, after sore wrestlings in his    |
|berth, Jonah's prodigy of ponderous     |
|misery drags him drowning down to sleep.|
|"And now the time of tide has come; the |
|ship casts off her cables; and from the |
|deserted wharf the uncheered ship for   |
|Tarshish, all careening, glides to sea. |
|That ship, my friends, was the first of |
|recorded smugglers! the contraband was  |
|Jonah. But the sea rebels; he will not  |
|bear the wicked burden. A dreadful storm|
|comes on, the ship is like to break. But|
|now when the boatswain calls all hands  |
|to lighten her; when boxes, bales, and  |
|jars are clattering overboard; when     |
|the wind is shrieking, and the men are  |
|yelling, and every plank thunders with  |
|trampling feet right over Jonah's head; |
|in all this raging tumult, Jonah sleeps |
|his hideous sleep. He sees no black sky |
|and raging sea, feels not the reeling   |
|timbers, and little hears he or heeds he|
|the far rush of the mighty whale, which |
|even now with open mouth is cleaving    |
|the seas after him. Aye, shipmates,     |
|Jonah was gone down into the sides of   |
|the ship--a berth in the cabin as I     |
|have taken it, and was fast asleep. But |
|the frightened master comes to him, and |
|shrieks in his dead ear, 'What meanest  |
|thou, O, sleeper! arise!' Startled from |
|his lethargy by that direful cry, Jonah |
|staggers to his feet, and stumbling     |
|to the deck, grasps a shroud, to look   |
|out upon the sea. But at that moment    |
|he is sprung upon by a panther billow   |
|leaping over the bulwarks. Wave after   |
|wave thus leaps into the ship, and      |
|finding no speedy vent runs roaring     |
|fore and aft, till the mariners come    |
|nigh to drowning while yet afloat.      |
|And ever, as the white moon shows her   |
|affrighted face from the steep gullies  |
|in the blackness overhead, aghast Jonah |
|sees the rearing bowsprit pointing high |
|upward, but soon beat downward again    |
|towards the tormented deep. "Terrors    |
|upon terrors run shouting through his   |
|soul. In all his cringing attitudes, the|
|God-fugitive is now too plainly known.  |
|The sailors mark him; more and more     |
|certain grow their suspicions of him,   |
|and at last, fully to test the truth,   |
|by referring the whole matter to high   |
|Heaven, they fall to casting lots, to   |
|see for whose cause this great tempest  |
|was upon them. The lot is Jonah's; that |
|discovered, then how furiously they     |
|mob him with their questions. 'What is  |
|thine occupation? Whence comest thou?   |
|Thy country? What people? But mark now, |
|my shipmates, the behavior of poor      |
|Jonah. The eager mariners but ask him   |
|who he is, and where from; whereas,     |
|they not only receive an answer to      |
|those questions, but likewise another   |
|answer to a question not put by them,   |
|but the unsolicited answer is forced    |
|from Jonah by the hard hand of God      |
|that is upon him. "'I am a Hebrew,' he  |
|cries--and then--'I fear the Lord the   |
|God of Heaven who hath made the sea and |
|the dry land!' Fear him, O Jonah? Aye,  |
|well mightest thou fear the Lord God    |
|THEN! Straightway, he now goes on to    |
|make a full confession; whereupon the   |
|mariners became more and more appalled, |
|but still are pitiful. For when Jonah,  |
|not yet supplicating God for mercy,     |
|since he but too well knew the darkness |
|of his deserts,--when wretched Jonah    |
|cries out to them to take him and cast  |
|him forth into the sea, for he knew     |
|that for HIS sake this great tempest    |
|was upon them; they mercifully turn     |
|from him, and seek by other means to    |
|save the ship. But all in vain; the     |
|indignant gale howls louder; then, with |
|one hand raised invokingly to God, with |
|the other they not unreluctantly lay    |
|hold of Jonah. "And now behold Jonah    |
|taken up as an anchor and dropped into  |
|the sea; when instantly an oily calmness|
|floats out from the east, and the sea is|
|still, as Jonah carries down the gale   |
|with him, leaving smooth water behind.  |
|He goes down in the whirling heart of   |
|such a masterless commotion that he     |
|scarce heeds the moment when he drops   |
|seething into the yawning jaws awaiting |
|him; and the whale shoots-to all his    |
|ivory teeth, like so many white bolts,  |
|upon his prison. Then Jonah prayed      |
|unto the Lord out of the fish's belly.  |
|But observe his prayer, and learn a     |
|weighty lesson. For sinful as he is,    |
|Jonah does not weep and wail for direct |
|deliverance. He feels that his dreadful |
|punishment is just. He leaves all his   |
|deliverance to God, contenting himself  |
|with this, that spite of all his pains  |
|and pangs, he will still look towards   |
|His holy temple. And here, shipmates,   |
|is true and faithful repentance; not    |
|clamorous for pardon, but grateful for  |
|punishment. And how pleasing to God was |
|this conduct in Jonah, is shown in the  |
|eventual deliverance of him from the    |
|sea and the whale. Shipmates, I do not  |
|place Jonah before you to be copied for |
|his sin but I do place him before you   |
|as a model for repentance. Sin not; but |
|if you do, take heed to repent of it    |
|like Jonah." While he was speaking these|
|words, the howling of the shrieking,    |
|slanting storm without seemed to add    |
|new power to the preacher, who, when    |
|describing Jonah's sea-storm, seemed    |
|tossed by a storm himself. His deep     |
|chest heaved as with a ground-swell; his|
|tossed arms seemed the warring elements |
|at work; and the thunders that rolled   |
|away from off his swarthy brow, and the |
|light leaping from his eye, made all    |
|his simple hearers look on him with a   |
|quick fear that was strange to them.    |
|There now came a lull in his look, as he|
|silently turned over the leaves of the  |
|Book once more; and, at last, standing  |
|motionless, with closed eyes, for the   |
|moment, seemed communing with God and   |
|himself. But again he leaned over       |
|towards the people, and bowing his head |
|lowly, with an aspect of the deepest yet|
|manliest humility, he spake these words:|
|"Shipmates, God has laid but one hand   |
|upon you; both his hands press upon me. |
|I have read ye by what murky light may  |
|be mine the lesson that Jonah teaches to|
|all sinners; and therefore to ye, and   |
|still more to me, for I am a greater    |
|sinner than ye. And now how gladly      |
|would I come down from this mast-head   |
|and sit on the hatches there where you  |
|sit, and listen as you listen, while    |
|some one of you reads ME that other and |
|more awful lesson which Jonah teaches   |
|to ME, as a pilot of the living God.    |
|How being an anointed pilot-prophet,    |
|or speaker of true things, and bidden   |
|by the Lord to sound those unwelcome    |
|truths in the ears of a wicked Nineveh, |
|Jonah, appalled at the hostility he     |
|should raise, fled from his mission,    |
|and sought to escape his duty and his   |
|God by taking ship at Joppa. But God is |
|everywhere; Tarshish he never reached.  |
|As we have seen, God came upon him in   |
|the whale, and swallowed him down to    |
|living gulfs of doom, and with swift    |
|slantings tore him along 'into the midst|
|of the seas,' where the eddying depths  |
|sucked him ten thousand fathoms down,   |
|and 'the weeds were wrapped about his   |
|head,' and all the watery world of woe  |
|bowled over him. Yet even then beyond   |
|the reach of any plummet--'out of the   |
|belly of hell'--when the whale grounded |
|upon the ocean's utmost bones, even     |
|then, God heard the engulphed, repenting|
|prophet when he cried. Then God spake   |
|unto the fish; and from the shuddering  |
|cold and blackness of the sea, the whale|
|came breeching up towards the warm and  |
|pleasant sun, and all the delights of   |
|air and earth; and 'vomited out Jonah   |
|upon the dry land;' when the word of    |
|the Lord came a second time; and Jonah, |
|bruised and beaten--his ears, like      |
|two sea-shells, still multitudinously   |
|murmuring of the ocean--Jonah did the   |
|Almighty's bidding. And what was that,  |
|shipmates? To preach the Truth to the   |
|face of Falsehood! That was it! "This,  |
|shipmates, this is that other lesson;   |
|and woe to that pilot of the living     |
|God who slights it. Woe to him whom     |
|this world charms from Gospel duty! Woe |
|to him who seeks to pour oil upon the   |
|waters when God has brewed them into a  |
|gale! Woe to him who seeks to please    |
|rather than to appal! Woe to him whose  |
|good name is more to him than goodness! |
|Woe to him who, in this world, courts   |
|not dishonour! Woe to him who would not |
|be true, even though to be false were   |
|salvation! Yea, woe to him who, as the  |
|great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching|
|to others is himself a castaway!" He    |
|dropped and fell away from himself for  |
|a moment; then lifting his face to      |
|them again, showed a deep joy in his    |
|eyes, as he cried out with a heavenly   |
|enthusiasm,--"But oh! shipmates! on the |
|starboard hand of every woe, there is a |
|sure delight; and higher the top of that|
|delight, than the bottom of the woe is  |
|deep. Is not the main-truck higher than |
|the kelson is low? Delight is to him--a |
|far, far upward, and inward delight--who|
|against the proud gods and commodores   |
|of this earth, ever stands forth his    |
|own inexorable self. Delight is to him  |
|whose strong arms yet support him, when |
|the ship of this base treacherous world |
|has gone down beneath him. Delight is   |
|to him, who gives no quarter in the     |
|truth, and kills, burns, and destroys   |
|all sin though he pluck it out from     |
|under the robes of Senators and Judges. |
|Delight,--top-gallant delight is to     |
|him, who acknowledges no law or lord,   |
|but the Lord his God, and is only a     |
|patriot to heaven. Delight is to him,   |
|whom all the waves of the billows of the|
|seas of the boisterous mob can never    |
|shake from this sure Keel of the Ages.  |
|And eternal delight and deliciousness   |
|will be his, who coming to lay him      |
|down, can say with his final breath--O  |
|Father!--chiefly known to me by Thy     |
|rod--mortal or immortal, here I die. I  |
|have striven to be Thine, more than to  |
|be this world's, or mine own. Yet this  |
|is nothing: I leave eternity to Thee;   |
|for what is man that he should live out |
|the lifetime of his God?" He said no    |
|more, but slowly waving a benediction,  |
|covered his face with his hands, and so |
|remained kneeling, till all the people  |
|had departed, and he was left alone in  |
|the place. Returning to the Spouter-Inn |
|from the Chapel, I found Queequeg there |
|quite alone; he having left the Chapel  |
|before the benediction some time. He    |
|was sitting on a bench before the fire, |
|with his feet on the stove hearth, and  |
|in one hand was holding close up to his |
|face that little negro idol of his;     |
|peering hard into its face, and with    |
|a jack-knife gently whittling away at   |
|its nose, meanwhile humming to himself  |
|in his heathenish way. But being now    |
|interrupted, he put up the image; and   |
|pretty soon, going to the table, took up|
|a large book there, and placing it on   |
|his lap began counting the pages with   |
|deliberate regularity; at every fiftieth|
|page--as I fancied--stopping a moment,  |
|looking vacantly around him, and giving |
|utterance to a long-drawn gurgling      |
|whistle of astonishment. He would then  |
|begin again at the next fifty; seeming  |
|to commence at number one each time,    |
|as though he could not count more than  |
|fifty, and it was only by such a large  |
|number of fifties being found together, |
|that his astonishment at the multitude  |
|of pages was excited. With much interest|
|I sat watching him. Savage though       |
|he was, and hideously marred about      |
|the face--at least to my taste--his     |
|countenance yet had a something in it   |
|which was by no means disagreeable. You |
|cannot hide the soul. Through all his   |
|unearthly tattooings, I thought I saw   |
|the traces of a simple honest heart;    |
|and in his large, deep eyes, fiery      |
|black and bold, there seemed tokens of  |
|a spirit that would dare a thousand     |
|devils. And besides all this, there was |
|a certain lofty bearing about the Pagan,|
|which even his uncouthness could not    |
|altogether maim. He looked like a man   |
|who had never cringed and never had had |
|a creditor. Whether it was, too, that   |
|his head being shaved, his forehead was |
|drawn out in freer and brighter relief, |
|and looked more expansive than it       |
|otherwise would, this I will not venture|
|to decide; but certain it was his head  |
|was phrenologically an excellent one.   |
|It may seem ridiculous, but it reminded |
|me of General Washington's head, as     |
|seen in the popular busts of him. It    |
|had the same long regularly graded      |
|retreating slope from above the brows,  |
|which were likewise very projecting,    |
|like two long promontories thickly      |
|wooded on top. Queequeg was George      |
|Washington cannibalistically developed. |
|Whilst I was thus closely scanning him, |
|half-pretending meanwhile to be looking |
|out at the storm from the casement, he  |
|never heeded my presence, never troubled|
|himself with so much as a single glance;|
|but appeared wholly occupied with       |
|counting the pages of the marvellous    |
|book. Considering how sociably we       |
|had been sleeping together the night    |
|previous, and especially considering    |
|the affectionate arm I had found thrown |
|over me upon waking in the morning,     |
|I thought this indifference of his      |
|very strange. But savages are strange   |
|beings; at times you do not know exactly|
|how to take them. At first they are     |
|overawing; their calm self-collectedness|
|of simplicity seems a Socratic wisdom.  |
|I had noticed also that Queequeg never  |
|consorted at all, or but very little,   |
|with the other seamen in the inn. He    |
|made no advances whatever; appeared to  |
|have no desire to enlarge the circle of |
|his acquaintances. All this struck me   |
|as mighty singular; yet, upon second    |
|thoughts, there was something almost    |
|sublime in it. Here was a man some      |
|twenty thousand miles from home, by the |
|way of Cape Horn, that is--which was    |
|the only way he could get there--thrown |
|among people as strange to him as       |
|though he were in the planet Jupiter;   |
|and yet he seemed entirely at his       |
|ease; preserving the utmost serenity;   |
|content with his own companionship;     |
|always equal to himself. Surely this    |
|was a touch of fine philosophy; though  |
|no doubt he had never heard there was   |
|such a thing as that. But, perhaps, to  |
|be true philosophers, we mortals should |
|not be conscious of so living or so     |
|striving. So soon as I hear that such   |
|or such a man gives himself out for     |
|a philosopher, I conclude that, like    |
|the dyspeptic old woman, he must have   |
|"broken his digester." As I sat there in|
|that now lonely room; the fire burning  |
|low, in that mild stage when, after its |
|first intensity has warmed the air, it  |
|then only glows to be looked at; the    |
|evening shades and phantoms gathering   |
|round the casements, and peering in     |
|upon us silent, solitary twain; the     |
|storm booming without in solemn swells; |
|I began to be sensible of strange       |
|feelings. I felt a melting in me. No    |
|more my splintered heart and maddened   |
|hand were turned against the wolfish    |
|world. This soothing savage had redeemed|
|it. There he sat, his very indifference |
|speaking a nature in which there lurked |
|no civilized hypocrisies and bland      |
|deceits. Wild he was; a very sight of   |
|sights to see; yet I began to feel      |
|myself mysteriously drawn towards him.  |
|And those same things that would have   |
|repelled most others, they were the very|
|magnets that thus drew me. I'll try a   |
|pagan friend, thought I, since Christian|
|kindness has proved but hollow courtesy.|
|I drew my bench near him, and made some |
|friendly signs and hints, doing my best |
|to talk with him meanwhile. At first    |
|he little noticed these advances; but   |
|presently, upon my referring to his     |
|last night's hospitalities, he made     |
|out to ask me whether we were again to  |
|be bedfellows. I told him yes; whereat  |
|I thought he looked pleased, perhaps    |
|a little complimented. We then turned   |
|over the book together, and I endeavored|
|to explain to him the purpose of the    |
|printing, and the meaning of the few    |
|pictures that were in it. Thus I soon   |
|engaged his interest; and from that we  |
|went to jabbering the best we could     |
|about the various outer sights to       |
|be seen in this famous town. Soon I     |
|proposed a social smoke; and, producing |
|his pouch and tomahawk, he quietly      |
|offered me a puff. And then we sat      |
|exchanging puffs from that wild pipe of |
|his, and keeping it regularly passing   |
|between us. If there yet lurked any     |
|ice of indifference towards me in the   |
|Pagan's breast, this pleasant, genial   |
|smoke we had, soon thawed it out, and   |
|left us cronies. He seemed to take to   |
|me quite as naturally and unbiddenly    |
|as I to him; and when our smoke was     |
|over, he pressed his forehead against   |
|mine, clasped me round the waist, and   |
|said that henceforth we were married;   |
|meaning, in his country's phrase,       |
|that we were bosom friends; he would    |
|gladly die for me, if need should be.   |
|In a countryman, this sudden flame      |
|of friendship would have seemed far     |
|too premature, a thing to be much       |
|distrusted; but in this simple savage   |
|those old rules would not apply. After  |
|supper, and another social chat and     |
|smoke, we went to our room together.    |
|He made me a present of his embalmed    |
|head; took out his enormous tobacco     |
|wallet, and groping under the tobacco,  |
|drew out some thirty dollars in silver; |
|then spreading them on the table, and   |
|mechanically dividing them into two     |
|equal portions, pushed one of them      |
|towards me, and said it was mine. I was |
|going to remonstrate; but he silenced   |
|me by pouring them into my trowsers'    |
|pockets. I let them stay. He then went  |
|about his evening prayers, took out his |
|idol, and removed the paper fireboard.  |
|By certain signs and symptoms, I thought|
|he seemed anxious for me to join him;   |
|but well knowing what was to follow,    |
|I deliberated a moment whether, in      |
|case he invited me, I would comply or   |
|otherwise. I was a good Christian; born |
|and bred in the bosom of the infallible |
|Presbyterian Church. How then could     |
|I unite with this wild idolator in      |
|worshipping his piece of wood? But what |
|is worship? thought I. Do you suppose   |
|now, Ishmael, that the magnanimous God  |
|of heaven and earth--pagans and all     |
|included--can possibly be jealous of    |
|an insignificant bit of black wood?     |
|Impossible! But what is worship?--to do |
|the will of God--THAT is worship. And   |
|what is the will of God?--to do to my   |
|fellow man what I would have my fellow  |
|man to do to me--THAT is the will of    |
|God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man.    |
|And what do I wish that this Queequeg   |
|would do to me? Why, unite with me in my|
|particular Presbyterian form of worship.|
|Consequently, I must then unite with him|
|in his; ergo, I must turn idolator. So  |
|I kindled the shavings; helped prop up  |
|the innocent little idol; offered him   |
|burnt biscuit with Queequeg; salamed    |
|before him twice or thrice; kissed his  |
|nose; and that done, we undressed and   |
|went to bed, at peace with our own      |
|consciences and all the world. But we   |
|did not go to sleep without some little |
|chat. How it is I know not; but there   |
|is no place like a bed for confidential |
|disclosures between friends. Man and    |
|wife, they say, there open the very     |
|bottom of their souls to each other;    |
|and some old couples often lie and chat |
|over old times till nearly morning.     |
|Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon,   |
|lay I and Queequeg--a cosy, loving      |
|pair. We had lain thus in bed, chatting |
|and napping at short intervals, and     |
|Queequeg now and then affectionately    |
|throwing his brown tattooed legs over   |
|mine, and then drawing them back; so    |
|entirely sociable and free and easy were|
|we; when, at last, by reason of our     |
|confabulations, what little nappishness |
|remained in us altogether departed, and |
|we felt like getting up again, though   |
|day-break was yet some way down the     |
|future. Yes, we became very wakeful;    |
|so much so that our recumbent position  |
|began to grow wearisome, and by little  |
|and little we found ourselves sitting   |
|up; the clothes well tucked around us,  |
|leaning against the head-board with our |
|four knees drawn up close together, and |
|our two noses bending over them, as if  |
|our kneepans were warming-pans. We felt |
|very nice and snug, the more so since it|
|was so chilly out of doors; indeed out  |
|of bed-clothes too, seeing that there   |
|was no fire in the room. The more so,   |
|I say, because truly to enjoy bodily    |
|warmth, some small part of you must be  |
|cold, for there is no quality in this   |
|world that is not what it is merely by  |
|contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If  |
|you flatter yourself that you are all   |
|over comfortable, and have been so a    |
|long time, then you cannot be said to   |
|be comfortable any more. But if, like   |
|Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of  |
|your nose or the crown of your head be  |
|slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in  |
|the general consciousness you feel most |
|delightfully and unmistakably warm. For |
|this reason a sleeping apartment should |
|never be furnished with a fire, which   |
|is one of the luxurious discomforts of  |
|the rich. For the height of this sort   |
|of deliciousness is to have nothing     |
|but the blanket between you and your    |
|snugness and the cold of the outer air. |
|Then there you lie like the one warm    |
|spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.|
|We had been sitting in this crouching   |
|manner for some time, when all at once  |
|I thought I would open my eyes; for     |
|when between sheets, whether by day or  |
|by night, and whether asleep or awake,  |
|I have a way of always keeping my eyes  |
|shut, in order the more to concentrate  |
|the snugness of being in bed. Because   |
|no man can ever feel his own identity   |
|aright except his eyes be closed; as    |
|if darkness were indeed the proper      |
|element of our essences, though light   |
|be more congenial to our clayey part.   |
|Upon opening my eyes then, and coming   |
|out of my own pleasant and self-created |
|darkness into the imposed and coarse    |
|outer gloom of the unilluminated        |
|twelve-o'clock-at-night, I experienced  |
|a disagreeable revulsion. Nor did I at  |
|all object to the hint from Queequeg    |
|that perhaps it were best to strike     |
|a light, seeing that we were so wide    |
|awake; and besides he felt a strong     |
|desire to have a few quiet puffs from   |
|his Tomahawk. Be it said, that though   |
|I had felt such a strong repugnance     |
|to his smoking in the bed the night     |
|before, yet see how elastic our stiff   |
|prejudices grow when love once comes    |
|to bend them. For now I liked nothing   |
|better than to have Queequeg smoking by |
|me, even in bed, because he seemed to   |
|be full of such serene household joy    |
|then. I no more felt unduly concerned   |
|for the landlord's policy of insurance. |
|I was only alive to the condensed       |
|confidential comfortableness of sharing |
|a pipe and a blanket with a real friend.|
|With our shaggy jackets drawn about our |
|shoulders, we now passed the Tomahawk   |
|from one to the other, till slowly there|
|grew over us a blue hanging tester of   |
|smoke, illuminated by the flame of the  |
|new-lit lamp. Whether it was that this  |
|undulating tester rolled the savage away|
|to far distant scenes, I know not, but  |
|he now spoke of his native island; and, |
|eager to hear his history, I begged     |
|him to go on and tell it. He gladly     |
|complied. Though at the time I but ill  |
|comprehended not a few of his words,    |
|yet subsequent disclosures, when I had  |
|become more familiar with his broken    |
|phraseology, now enable me to present   |
|the whole story such as it may prove    |
|in the mere skeleton I give. Queequeg   |
|was a native of Rokovoko, an island     |
|far away to the West and South. It is   |
|not down in any map; true places never  |
|are. When a new-hatched savage running  |
|wild about his native woodlands in a    |
|grass clout, followed by the nibbling   |
|goats, as if he were a green sapling;   |
|even then, in Queequeg's ambitious      |
|soul, lurked a strong desire to see     |
|something more of Christendom than a    |
|specimen whaler or two. His father      |
|was a High Chief, a King; his uncle a   |
|High Priest; and on the maternal side   |
|he boasted aunts who were the wives     |
|of unconquerable warriors. There was    |
|excellent blood in his veins--royal     |
|stuff; though sadly vitiated, I fear, by|
|the cannibal propensity he nourished in |
|his untutored youth. A Sag Harbor ship  |
|visited his father's bay, and Queequeg  |
|sought a passage to Christian lands. But|
|the ship, having her full complement    |
|of seamen, spurned his suit; and not    |
|all the King his father's influence     |
|could prevail. But Queequeg vowed a     |
|vow. Alone in his canoe, he paddled     |
|off to a distant strait, which he knew  |
|the ship must pass through when she     |
|quitted the island. On one side was a   |
|coral reef; on the other a low tongue   |
|of land, covered with mangrove thickets |
|that grew out into the water. Hiding    |
|his canoe, still afloat, among these    |
|thickets, with its prow seaward, he sat |
|down in the stern, paddle low in hand;  |
|and when the ship was gliding by, like  |
|a flash he darted out; gained her side; |
|with one backward dash of his foot      |
|capsized and sank his canoe; climbed    |
|up the chains; and throwing himself at  |
|full length upon the deck, grappled a   |
|ring-bolt there, and swore not to let   |
|it go, though hacked in pieces. In vain |
|the captain threatened to throw him     |
|overboard; suspended a cutlass over his |
|naked wrists; Queequeg was the son of a |
|King, and Queequeg budged not. Struck   |
|by his desperate dauntlessness, and his |
|wild desire to visit Christendom, the   |
|captain at last relented, and told him  |
|he might make himself at home. But this |
|fine young savage--this sea Prince of   |
|Wales, never saw the Captain's cabin.   |
|They put him down among the sailors, and|
|made a whaleman of him. But like Czar   |
|Peter content to toil in the shipyards  |
|of foreign cities, Queequeg disdained   |
|no seeming ignominy, if thereby he      |
|might happily gain the power of         |
|enlightening his untutored countrymen.  |
|For at bottom--so he told me--he was    |
|actuated by a profound desire to learn  |
|among the Christians, the arts whereby  |
|to make his people still happier than   |
|they were; and more than that, still    |
|better than they were. But, alas! the   |
|practices of whalemen soon convinced    |
|him that even Christians could be both  |
|miserable and wicked; infinitely more   |
|so, than all his father's heathens.     |
|Arrived at last in old Sag Harbor; and  |
|seeing what the sailors did there; and  |
|then going on to Nantucket, and seeing  |
|how they spent their wages in that place|
|also, poor Queequeg gave it up for      |
|lost. Thought he, it's a wicked world   |
|in all meridians; I'll die a pagan.     |
|And thus an old idolator at heart, he   |
|yet lived among these Christians, wore  |
|their clothes, and tried to talk their  |
|gibberish. Hence the queer ways about   |
|him, though now some time from home.    |
|By hints, I asked him whether he did    |
|not propose going back, and having a    |
|coronation; since he might now consider |
|his father dead and gone, he being very |
|old and feeble at the last accounts.    |
|He answered no, not yet; and added      |
|that he was fearful Christianity, or    |
|rather Christians, had unfitted him for |
|ascending the pure and undefiled throne |
|of thirty pagan Kings before him. But by|
|and by, he said, he would return,--as   |
|soon as he felt himself baptized again. |
|For the nonce, however, he proposed to  |
|sail about, and sow his wild oats in all|
|four oceans. They had made a harpooneer |
|of him, and that barbed iron was in     |
|lieu of a sceptre now. I asked him what |
|might be his immediate purpose, touching|
|his future movements. He answered, to   |
|go to sea again, in his old vocation.   |
|Upon this, I told him that whaling was  |
|my own design, and informed him of my   |
|intention to sail out of Nantucket, as  |
|being the most promising port for an    |
|adventurous whaleman to embark from.    |
|He at once resolved to accompany me     |
|to that island, ship aboard the same    |
|vessel, get into the same watch, the    |
|same boat, the same mess with me, in    |
|short to share my every hap; with both  |
|my hands in his, boldly dip into the    |
|Potluck of both worlds. To all this     |
|I joyously assented; for besides the    |
|affection I now felt for Queequeg, he   |
|was an experienced harpooneer, and as   |
|such, could not fail to be of great     |
|usefulness to one, who, like me, was    |
|wholly ignorant of the mysteries of     |
|whaling, though well acquainted with    |
|the sea, as known to merchant seamen.   |
|His story being ended with his pipe's   |
|last dying puff, Queequeg embraced me,  |
|pressed his forehead against mine, and  |
|blowing out the light, we rolled over   |
|from each other, this way and that,     |
|and very soon were sleeping. Next       |
|morning, Monday, after disposing of the |
|embalmed head to a barber, for a block, |
|I settled my own and comrade's bill;    |
|using, however, my comrade's money.     |
|The grinning landlord, as well as the   |
|boarders, seemed amazingly tickled at   |
|the sudden friendship which had sprung  |
|up between me and Queequeg--especially  |
|as Peter Coffin's cock and bull stories |
|about him had previously so much alarmed|
|me concerning the very person whom      |
|I now companied with. We borrowed a     |
|wheelbarrow, and embarking our things,  |
|including my own poor carpet-bag, and   |
|Queequeg's canvas sack and hammock, away|
|we went down to "the Moss," the little  |
|Nantucket packet schooner moored at the |
|wharf. As we were going along the people|
|stared; not at Queequeg so much--for    |
|they were used to seeing cannibals like |
|him in their streets,--but at seeing him|
|and me upon such confidential terms. But|
|we heeded them not, going along wheeling|
|the barrow by turns, and Queequeg now   |
|and then stopping to adjust the sheath  |
|on his harpoon barbs. I asked him why he|
|carried such a troublesome thing with   |
|him ashore, and whether all whaling     |
|ships did not find their own harpoons.  |
|To this, in substance, he replied, that |
|though what I hinted was true enough,   |
|yet he had a particular affection for   |
|his own harpoon, because it was of      |
|assured stuff, well tried in many a     |
|mortal combat, and deeply intimate      |
|with the hearts of whales. In short,    |
|like many inland reapers and mowers,    |
|who go into the farmers' meadows armed  |
|with their own scythes--though in no    |
|wise obliged to furnish them--even so,  |
|Queequeg, for his own private reasons,  |
|preferred his own harpoon. Shifting the |
|barrow from my hand to his, he told me a|
|funny story about the first wheelbarrow |
|he had ever seen. It was in Sag Harbor. |
|The owners of his ship, it seems, had   |
|lent him one, in which to carry his     |
|heavy chest to his boarding house. Not  |
|to seem ignorant about the thing--though|
|in truth he was entirely so, concerning |
|the precise way in which to manage the  |
|barrow--Queequeg puts his chest upon    |
|it; lashes it fast; and then shoulders  |
|the barrow and marches up the wharf.    |
|"Why," said I, "Queequeg, you might have|
|known better than that, one would think.|
|Didn't the people laugh?" Upon this, he |
|told me another story. The people of his|
|island of Rokovoko, it seems, at their  |
|wedding feasts express the fragrant     |
|water of young cocoanuts into a large   |
|stained calabash like a punchbowl; and  |
|this punchbowl always forms the great   |
|central ornament on the braided mat     |
|where the feast is held. Now a certain  |
|grand merchant ship once touched at     |
|Rokovoko, and its commander--from all   |
|accounts, a very stately punctilious    |
|gentleman, at least for a sea           |
|captain--this commander was invited to  |
|the wedding feast of Queequeg's sister, |
|a pretty young princess just turned     |
|of ten. Well; when all the wedding      |
|guests were assembled at the bride's    |
|bamboo cottage, this Captain marches    |
|in, and being assigned the post of      |
|honour, placed himself over against the |
|punchbowl, and between the High Priest  |
|and his majesty the King, Queequeg's    |
|father. Grace being said,--for those    |
|people have their grace as well as      |
|we--though Queequeg told me that unlike |
|us, who at such times look downwards to |
|our platters, they, on the contrary,    |
|copying the ducks, glance upwards to    |
|the great Giver of all feasts--Grace, I |
|say, being said, the High Priest opens  |
|the banquet by the immemorial ceremony  |
|of the island; that is, dipping his     |
|consecrated and consecrating fingers    |
|into the bowl before the blessed        |
|beverage circulates. Seeing himself     |
|placed next the Priest, and noting the  |
|ceremony, and thinking himself--being   |
|Captain of a ship--as having plain      |
|precedence over a mere island King,     |
|especially in the King's own house--the |
|Captain coolly proceeds to wash his     |
|hands in the punchbowl;--taking it      |
|I suppose for a huge finger-glass.      |
|"Now," said Queequeg, "what you tink    |
|now?--Didn't our people laugh?" At last,|
|passage paid, and luggage safe, we stood|
|on board the schooner. Hoisting sail,   |
|it glided down the Acushnet river. On   |
|one side, New Bedford rose in terraces  |
|of streets, their ice-covered trees all |
|glittering in the clear, cold air. Huge |
|hills and mountains of casks on casks   |
|were piled upon her wharves, and side by|
|side the world-wandering whale ships lay|
|silent and safely moored at last; while |
|from others came a sound of carpenters  |
|and coopers, with blended noises of     |
|fires and forges to melt the pitch, all |
|betokening that new cruises were on the |
|start; that one most perilous and long  |
|voyage ended, only begins a second; and |
|a second ended, only begins a third, and|
|so on, for ever and for aye. Such is the|
|endlessness, yea, the intolerableness   |
|of all earthly effort. Gaining the      |
|more open water, the bracing breeze     |
|waxed fresh; the little Moss tossed the |
|quick foam from her bows, as a young    |
|colt his snortings. How I snuffed that  |
|Tartar air!--how I spurned that turnpike|
|earth!--that common highway all over    |
|dented with the marks of slavish heels  |
|and hoofs; and turned me to admire the  |
|magnanimity of the sea which will permit|
|no records. At the same foam-fountain,  |
|Queequeg seemed to drink and reel with  |
|me. His dusky nostrils swelled apart;   |
|he showed his filed and pointed teeth.  |
|On, on we flew; and our offing gained,  |
|the Moss did homage to the blast; ducked|
|and dived her bows as a slave before the|
|Sultan. Sideways leaning, we sideways   |
|darted; every ropeyarn tingling like a  |
|wire; the two tall masts buckling like  |
|Indian canes in land tornadoes. So full |
|of this reeling scene were we, as we    |
|stood by the plunging bowsprit, that for|
|some time we did not notice the jeering |
|glances of the passengers, a lubber-like|
|assembly, who marvelled that two fellow |
|beings should be so companionable; as   |
|though a white man were anything more   |
|dignified than a whitewashed negro. But |
|there were some boobies and bumpkins    |
|there, who, by their intense greenness, |
|must have come from the heart and centre|
|of all verdure. Queequeg caught one     |
|of these young saplings mimicking him   |
|behind his back. I thought the bumpkin's|
|hour of doom was come. Dropping his     |
|harpoon, the brawny savage caught him in|
|his arms, and by an almost miraculous   |
|dexterity and strength, sent him high   |
|up bodily into the air; then slightly   |
|tapping his stern in mid-somerset, the  |
|fellow landed with bursting lungs upon  |
|his feet, while Queequeg, turning his   |
|back upon him, lighted his tomahawk     |
|pipe and passed it to me for a puff.    |
|"Capting! Capting! yelled the bumpkin,  |
|running towards that officer; "Capting, |
|Capting, here's the devil." "Hallo, YOU |
|sir," cried the Captain, a gaunt rib    |
|of the sea, stalking up to Queequeg,    |
|"what in thunder do you mean by that?   |
|Don't you know you might have killed    |
|that chap?" "What him say?" said        |
|Queequeg, as he mildly turned to me.    |
|"He say," said I, "that you came near   |
|kill-e that man there," pointing to the |
|still shivering greenhorn. "Kill-e,"    |
|cried Queequeg, twisting his tattooed   |
|face into an unearthly expression of    |
|disdain, "ah! him bevy small-e fish-e;  |
|Queequeg no kill-e so small-e fish-e;   |
|Queequeg kill-e big whale!" "Look you," |
|roared the Captain, "I'll kill-e YOU,   |
|you cannibal, if you try any more of    |
|your tricks aboard here; so mind your   |
|eye." But it so happened just then,     |
|that it was high time for the Captain   |
|to mind his own eye. The prodigious     |
|strain upon the main-sail had parted    |
|the weather-sheet, and the tremendous   |
|boom was now flying from side to side,  |
|completely sweeping the entire after    |
|part of the deck. The poor fellow whom  |
|Queequeg had handled so roughly, was    |
|swept overboard; all hands were in a    |
|panic; and to attempt snatching at      |
|the boom to stay it, seemed madness.    |
|It flew from right to left, and back    |
|again, almost in one ticking of a watch,|
|and every instant seemed on the point   |
|of snapping into splinters. Nothing     |
|was done, and nothing seemed capable    |
|of being done; those on deck rushed     |
|towards the bows, and stood eyeing the  |
|boom as if it were the lower jaw of     |
|an exasperated whale. In the midst of   |
|this consternation, Queequeg dropped    |
|deftly to his knees, and crawling       |
|under the path of the boom, whipped     |
|hold of a rope, secured one end to      |
|the bulwarks, and then flinging the     |
|other like a lasso, caught it round     |
|the boom as it swept over his head,     |
|and at the next jerk, the spar was      |
|that way trapped, and all was safe.     |
|The schooner was run into the wind,     |
|and while the hands were clearing away  |
|the stern boat, Queequeg, stripped to   |
|the waist, darted from the side with a  |
|long living arc of a leap. For three    |
|minutes or more he was seen swimming    |
|like a dog, throwing his long arms      |
|straight out before him, and by turns   |
|revealing his brawny shoulders through  |
|the freezing foam. I looked at the      |
|grand and glorious fellow, but saw no   |
|one to be saved. The greenhorn had gone |
|down. Shooting himself perpendicularly  |
|from the water, Queequeg, now took      |
|an instant's glance around him, and     |
|seeming to see just how matters were,   |
|dived down and disappeared. A few       |
|minutes more, and he rose again, one    |
|arm still striking out, and with the    |
|other dragging a lifeless form. The boat|
|soon picked them up. The poor bumpkin   |
|was restored. All hands voted Queequeg  |
|a noble trump; the captain begged his   |
|pardon. From that hour I clove to       |
|Queequeg like a barnacle; yea, till     |
|poor Queequeg took his last long dive.  |
|Was there ever such unconsciousness? He |
|did not seem to think that he at all    |
|deserved a medal from the Humane and    |
|Magnanimous Societies. He only asked for|
|water--fresh water--something to wipe   |
|the brine off; that done, he put on dry |
|clothes, lighted his pipe, and leaning  |
|against the bulwarks, and mildly eyeing |
|those around him, seemed to be saying   |
|to himself--"It's a mutual, joint-stock |
|world, in all meridians. We cannibals   |
|must help these Christians." Nothing    |
|more happened on the passage worthy the |
|mentioning; so, after a fine run, we    |
|safely arrived in Nantucket. Nantucket! |
|Take out your map and look at it. See   |
|what a real corner of the world it      |
|occupies; how it stands there, away off |
|shore, more lonely than the Eddystone   |
|lighthouse. Look at it--a mere hillock, |
|and elbow of sand; all beach, without   |
|a background. There is more sand there  |
|than you would use in twenty years as   |
|a substitute for blotting paper. Some   |
|gamesome wights will tell you that      |
|they have to plant weeds there, they    |
|don't grow naturally; that they import  |
|Canada thistles; that they have to send |
|beyond seas for a spile to stop a leak  |
|in an oil cask; that pieces of wood in  |
|Nantucket are carried about like bits   |
|of the true cross in Rome; that people  |
|there plant toadstools before their     |
|houses, to get under the shade in summer|
|time; that one blade of grass makes an  |
|oasis, three blades in a day's walk a   |
|prairie; that they wear quicksand shoes,|
|something like Laplander snow-shoes;    |
|that they are so shut up, belted about, |
|every way inclosed, surrounded, and made|
|an utter island of by the ocean, that to|
|their very chairs and tables small clams|
|will sometimes be found adhering, as    |
|to the backs of sea turtles. But these  |
|extravaganzas only show that Nantucket  |
|is no Illinois. Look now at the wondrous|
|traditional story of how this island was|
|settled by the red-men. Thus goes the   |
|legend. In olden times an eagle swooped |
|down upon the New England coast, and    |
|carried off an infant Indian in his     |
|talons. With loud lament the parents    |
|saw their child borne out of sight      |
|over the wide waters. They resolved to  |
|follow in the same direction. Setting   |
|out in their canoes, after a perilous   |
|passage they discovered the island,     |
|and there they found an empty ivory     |
|casket,--the poor little Indian's       |
|skeleton. What wonder, then, that these |
|Nantucketers, born on a beach, should   |
|take to the sea for a livelihood! They  |
|first caught crabs and quohogs in the   |
|sand; grown bolder, they waded out with |
|nets for mackerel; more experienced,    |
|they pushed off in boats and captured   |
|cod; and at last, launching a navy of   |
|great ships on the sea, explored this   |
|watery world; put an incessant belt of  |
|circumnavigations round it; peeped in at|
|Behring's Straits; and in all seasons   |
|and all oceans declared everlasting     |
|war with the mightiest animated mass    |
|that has survived the flood; most       |
|monstrous and most mountainous! That    |
|Himmalehan, salt-sea Mastodon, clothed  |
|with such portentousness of unconscious |
|power, that his very panics are more    |
|to be dreaded than his most fearless    |
|and malicious assaults! And thus have   |
|these naked Nantucketers, these sea     |
|hermits, issuing from their ant-hill    |
|in the sea, overrun and conquered the   |
|watery world like so many Alexanders;   |
|parcelling out among them the Atlantic, |
|Pacific, and Indian oceans, as the      |
|three pirate powers did Poland. Let     |
|America add Mexico to Texas, and pile   |
|Cuba upon Canada; let the English       |
|overswarm all India, and hang out       |
|their blazing banner from the sun;      |
|two thirds of this terraqueous globe    |
|are the Nantucketer's. For the sea      |
|is his; he owns it, as Emperors own     |
|empires; other seamen having but a      |
|right of way through it. Merchant ships |
|are but extension bridges; armed ones   |
|but floating forts; even pirates and    |
|privateers, though following the sea as |
|highwaymen the road, they but plunder   |
|other ships, other fragments of the land|
|like themselves, without seeking to     |
|draw their living from the bottomless   |
|deep itself. The Nantucketer, he alone  |
|resides and riots on the sea; he alone, |
|in Bible language, goes down to it in   |
|ships; to and fro ploughing it as his   |
|own special plantation. THERE is his    |
|home; THERE lies his business, which a  |
|Noah's flood would not interrupt, though|
|it overwhelmed all the millions in      |
|China. He lives on the sea, as prairie  |
|cocks in the prairie; he hides among the|
|waves, he climbs them as chamois hunters|
|climb the Alps. For years he knows not  |
|the land; so that when he comes to it   |
|at last, it smells like another world,  |
|more strangely than the moon would to   |
|an Earthsman. With the landless gull,   |
|that at sunset folds her wings and is   |
|rocked to sleep between billows; so     |
|at nightfall, the Nantucketer, out of   |
|sight of land, furls his sails, and     |
|lays him to his rest, while under his   |
|very pillow rush herds of walruses      |
|and whales. It was quite late in the    |
|evening when the little Moss came       |
|snugly to anchor, and Queequeg and I    |
|went ashore; so we could attend to no   |
|business that day, at least none but a  |
|supper and a bed. The landlord of the   |
|Spouter-Inn had recommended us to his   |
|cousin Hosea Hussey of the Try Pots,    |
|whom he asserted to be the proprietor   |
|of one of the best kept hotels in all   |
|Nantucket, and moreover he had assured  |
|us that Cousin Hosea, as he called him, |
|was famous for his chowders. In short,  |
|he plainly hinted that we could not     |
|possibly do better than try pot-luck    |
|at the Try Pots. But the directions he  |
|had given us about keeping a yellow     |
|warehouse on our starboard hand till we |
|opened a white church to the larboard,  |
|and then keeping that on the larboard   |
|hand till we made a corner three points |
|to the starboard, and that done, then   |
|ask the first man we met where the      |
|place was: these crooked directions     |
|of his very much puzzled us at first,   |
|especially as, at the outset, Queequeg  |
|insisted that the yellow warehouse--our |
|first point of departure--must be left  |
|on the larboard hand, whereas I had     |
|understood Peter Coffin to say it was   |
|on the starboard. However, by dint of   |
|beating about a little in the dark, and |
|now and then knocking up a peaceable    |
|inhabitant to inquire the way, we at    |
|last came to something which there was  |
|no mistaking. Two enormous wooden pots  |
|painted black, and suspended by asses'  |
|ears, swung from the cross-trees of an  |
|old top-mast, planted in front of an old|
|doorway. The horns of the cross-trees   |
|were sawed off on the other side, so    |
|that this old top-mast looked not a     |
|little like a gallows. Perhaps I was    |
|over sensitive to such impressions at   |
|the time, but I could not help staring  |
|at this gallows with a vague misgiving. |
|A sort of crick was in my neck as I     |
|gazed up to the two remaining horns;    |
|yes, TWO of them, one for Queequeg, and |
|one for me. It's ominous, thinks I. A   |
|Coffin my Innkeeper upon landing in my  |
|first whaling port; tombstones staring  |
|at me in the whalemen's chapel; and here|
|a gallows! and a pair of prodigious     |
|black pots too! Are these last throwing |
|out oblique hints touching Tophet? I    |
|was called from these reflections by    |
|the sight of a freckled woman with      |
|yellow hair and a yellow gown, standing |
|in the porch of the inn, under a dull   |
|red lamp swinging there, that looked    |
|much like an injured eye, and carrying  |
|on a brisk scolding with a man in a     |
|purple woollen shirt. "Get along with   |
|ye," said she to the man, "or I'll be   |
|combing ye!" "Come on, Queequeg," said  |
|I, "all right. There's Mrs. Hussey."    |
|And so it turned out; Mr. Hosea Hussey  |
|being from home, but leaving Mrs.       |
|Hussey entirely competent to attend to  |
|all his affairs. Upon making known our  |
|desires for a supper and a bed, Mrs.    |
|Hussey, postponing further scolding     |
|for the present, ushered us into a      |
|little room, and seating us at a table  |
|spread with the relics of a recently    |
|concluded repast, turned round to us    |
|and said--"Clam or Cod?" "What's that   |
|about Cods, ma'am?" said I, with much   |
|politeness. "Clam or Cod?" she repeated.|
|"A clam for supper? a cold clam; is     |
|THAT what you mean, Mrs. Hussey?" says  |
|I, "but that's a rather cold and clammy |
|reception in the winter time, ain't     |
|it, Mrs. Hussey?" But being in a great  |
|hurry to resume scolding the man in the |
|purple Shirt, who was waiting for it in |
|the entry, and seeming to hear nothing  |
|but the word "clam," Mrs. Hussey hurried|
|towards an open door leading to the     |
|kitchen, and bawling out "clam for two,"|
|disappeared. "Queequeg," said I, "do you|
|think that we can make out a supper for |
|us both on one clam?" However, a warm   |
|savory steam from the kitchen served to |
|belie the apparently cheerless prospect |
|before us. But when that smoking chowder|
|came in, the mystery was delightfully   |
|explained. Oh, sweet friends! hearken   |
|to me. It was made of small juicy       |
|clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, |
|mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and    |
|salted pork cut up into little flakes;  |
|the whole enriched with butter, and     |
|plentifully seasoned with pepper and    |
|salt. Our appetites being sharpened by  |
|the frosty voyage, and in particular,   |
|Queequeg seeing his favourite fishing   |
|food before him, and the chowder being  |
|surpassingly excellent, we despatched   |
|it with great expedition: when leaning  |
|back a moment and bethinking me of Mrs. |
|Hussey's clam and cod announcement, I   |
|thought I would try a little experiment.|
|Stepping to the kitchen door, I uttered |
|the word "cod" with great emphasis, and |
|resumed my seat. In a few moments the   |
|savoury steam came forth again, but with|
|a different flavor, and in good time a  |
|fine cod-chowder was placed before us.  |
|We resumed business; and while plying   |
|our spoons in the bowl, thinks I to     |
|myself, I wonder now if this here has   |
|any effect on the head? What's that     |
|stultifying saying about chowder-headed |
|people? "But look, Queequeg, ain't that |
|a live eel in your bowl? Where's your   |
|harpoon?" Fishiest of all fishy places  |
|was the Try Pots, which well deserved   |
|its name; for the pots there were always|
|boiling chowders. Chowder for breakfast,|
|and chowder for dinner, and chowder     |
|for supper, till you began to look for  |
|fish-bones coming through your clothes. |
|The area before the house was paved with|
|clam-shells. Mrs. Hussey wore a polished|
|necklace of codfish vertebra; and Hosea |
|Hussey had his account books bound in   |
|superior old shark-skin. There was a    |
|fishy flavor to the milk, too, which    |
|I could not at all account for, till    |
|one morning happening to take a stroll  |
|along the beach among some fishermen's  |
|boats, I saw Hosea's brindled cow       |
|feeding on fish remnants, and marching  |
|along the sand with each foot in        |
|a cod's decapitated head, looking       |
|very slip-shod, I assure ye. Supper     |
|concluded, we received a lamp, and      |
|directions from Mrs. Hussey concerning  |
|the nearest way to bed; but, as Queequeg|
|was about to precede me up the stairs,  |
|the lady reached forth her arm, and     |
|demanded his harpoon; she allowed no    |
|harpoon in her chambers. "Why not? said |
|I; "every true whaleman sleeps with his |
|harpoon--but why not?" "Because it's    |
|dangerous," says she. "Ever since young |
|Stiggs coming from that unfort'nt v'y'ge|
|of his, when he was gone four years     |
|and a half, with only three barrels of  |
|ILE, was found dead in my first floor   |
|back, with his harpoon in his side;     |
|ever since then I allow no boarders to  |
|take sich dangerous weepons in their    |
|rooms at night. So, Mr. Queequeg" (for  |
|she had learned his name), "I will just |
|take this here iron, and keep it for    |
|you till morning. But the chowder; clam |
|or cod to-morrow for breakfast, men?"   |
|"Both," says I; "and let's have a couple|
|of smoked herring by way of variety."   |
|In bed we concocted our plans for the   |
|morrow. But to my surprise and no       |
|small concern, Queequeg now gave me to  |
|understand, that he had been diligently |
|consulting Yojo--the name of his black  |
|little god--and Yojo had told him two or|
|three times over, and strongly insisted |
|upon it everyway, that instead of our   |
|going together among the whaling-fleet  |
|in harbor, and in concert selecting our |
|craft; instead of this, I say, Yojo     |
|earnestly enjoined that the selection   |
|of the ship should rest wholly with me, |
|inasmuch as Yojo purposed befriending   |
|us; and, in order to do so, had already |
|pitched upon a vessel, which, if left to|
|myself, I, Ishmael, should infallibly   |
|light upon, for all the world as though |
|it had turned out by chance; and in     |
|that vessel I must immediately ship     |
|myself, for the present irrespective of |
|Queequeg. I have forgotten to mention   |
|that, in many things, Queequeg placed   |
|great confidence in the excellence      |
|of Yojo's judgment and surprising       |
|forecast of things; and cherished Yojo  |
|with considerable esteem, as a rather   |
|good sort of god, who perhaps meant     |
|well enough upon the whole, but in all  |
|cases did not succeed in his benevolent |
|designs. Now, this plan of Queequeg's,  |
|or rather Yojo's, touching the selection|
|of our craft; I did not like that plan  |
|at all. I had not a little relied upon  |
|Queequeg's sagacity to point out the    |
|whaler best fitted to carry us and      |
|our fortunes securely. But as all my    |
|remonstrances produced no effect upon   |
|Queequeg, I was obliged to acquiesce;   |
|and accordingly prepared to set about   |
|this business with a determined rushing |
|sort of energy and vigor, that should   |
|quickly settle that trifling little     |
|affair. Next morning early, leaving     |
|Queequeg shut up with Yojo in our little|
|bedroom--for it seemed that it was some |
|sort of Lent or Ramadan, or day of      |
|fasting, humiliation, and prayer with   |
|Queequeg and Yojo that day; HOW it was  |
|I never could find out, for, though I   |
|applied myself to it several times, I   |
|never could master his liturgies and    |
|XXXIX Articles--leaving Queequeg, then, |
|fasting on his tomahawk pipe, and Yojo  |
|warming himself at his sacrificial      |
|fire of shavings, I sallied out among   |
|the shipping. After much prolonged      |
|sauntering and many random inquiries, I |
|learnt that there were three ships up   |
|for three-years' voyages--The Devil-dam,|
|the Tit-bit, and the Pequod. DEVIL-DAM, |
|I do not know the origin of; TIT-BIT    |
|is obvious; PEQUOD, you will no doubt   |
|remember, was the name of a celebrated  |
|tribe of Massachusetts Indians; now     |
|extinct as the ancient Medes. I peered  |
|and pryed about the Devil-dam; from her,|
|hopped over to the Tit-bit; and finally,|
|going on board the Pequod, looked around|
|her for a moment, and then decided that |
|this was the very ship for us. You may  |
|have seen many a quaint craft in your   |
|day, for aught I know;--square-toed     |
|luggers; mountainous Japanese junks;    |
|butter-box galliots, and what not; but  |
|take my word for it, you never saw such |
|a rare old craft as this same rare      |
|old Pequod. She was a ship of the old   |
|school, rather small if anything; with  |
|an old-fashioned claw-footed look about |
|her. Long seasoned and weather-stained  |
|in the typhoons and calms of all four   |
|oceans, her old hull's complexion was   |
|darkened like a French grenadier's, who |
|has alike fought in Egypt and Siberia.  |
|Her venerable bows looked bearded. Her  |
|masts--cut somewhere on the coast of    |
|Japan, where her original ones were     |
|lost overboard in a gale--her masts     |
|stood stiffly up like the spines of the |
|three old kings of Cologne. Her ancient |
|decks were worn and wrinkled, like      |
|the pilgrim-worshipped flag-stone in    |
|Canterbury Cathedral where Becket bled. |
|But to all these her old antiquities,   |
|were added new and marvellous features, |
|pertaining to the wild business that    |
|for more than half a century she had    |
|followed. Old Captain Peleg, many years |
|her chief-mate, before he commanded     |
|another vessel of his own, and now      |
|a retired seaman, and one of the        |
|principal owners of the Pequod,--this   |
|old Peleg, during the term of his       |
|chief-mateship, had built upon her      |
|original grotesqueness, and inlaid      |
|it, all over, with a quaintness both    |
|of material and device, unmatched by    |
|anything except it be Thorkill-Hake's   |
|carved buckler or bedstead. She was     |
|apparelled like any barbaric Ethiopian  |
|emperor, his neck heavy with pendants   |
|of polished ivory. She was a thing      |
|of trophies. A cannibal of a craft,     |
|tricking herself forth in the chased    |
|bones of her enemies. All round, her    |
|unpanelled, open bulwarks were garnished|
|like one continuous jaw, with the long  |
|sharp teeth of the sperm whale, inserted|
|there for pins, to fasten her old hempen|
|thews and tendons to. Those thews ran   |
|not through base blocks of land wood,   |
|but deftly travelled over sheaves of    |
|sea-ivory. Scorning a turnstile wheel   |
|at her reverend helm, she sported there |
|a tiller; and that tiller was in one    |
|mass, curiously carved from the long    |
|narrow lower jaw of her hereditary foe. |
|The helmsman who steered by that tiller |
|in a tempest, felt like the Tartar,     |
|when he holds back his fiery steed by   |
|clutching its jaw. A noble craft, but   |
|somehow a most melancholy! All noble    |
|things are touched with that. Now when  |
|I looked about the quarter-deck, for    |
|some one having authority, in order to  |
|propose myself as a candidate for the   |
|voyage, at first I saw nobody; but I    |
|could not well overlook a strange sort  |
|of tent, or rather wigwam, pitched a    |
|little behind the main-mast. It seemed  |
|only a temporary erection used in port. |
|It was of a conical shape, some ten     |
|feet high; consisting of the long,      |
|huge slabs of limber black bone taken   |
|from the middle and highest part of     |
|the jaws of the right-whale. Planted    |
|with their broad ends on the deck, a    |
|circle of these slabs laced together,   |
|mutually sloped towards each other,     |
|and at the apex united in a tufted      |
|point, where the loose hairy fibres     |
|waved to and fro like the top-knot on   |
|some old Pottowottamie Sachem's head.   |
|A triangular opening faced towards the  |
|bows of the ship, so that the insider   |
|commanded a complete view forward. And  |
|half concealed in this queer tenement,  |
|I at length found one who by his aspect |
|seemed to have authority; and who,      |
|it being noon, and the ship's work      |
|suspended, was now enjoying respite from|
|the burden of command. He was seated on |
|an old-fashioned oaken chair, wriggling |
|all over with curious carving; and the  |
|bottom of which was formed of a stout   |
|interlacing of the same elastic stuff   |
|of which the wigwam was constructed.    |
|There was nothing so very particular,   |
|perhaps, about the appearance of the    |
|elderly man I saw; he was brown and     |
|brawny, like most old seamen, and       |
|heavily rolled up in blue pilot-cloth,  |
|cut in the Quaker style; only there     |
|was a fine and almost microscopic       |
|net-work of the minutest wrinkles       |
|interlacing round his eyes, which       |
|must have arisen from his continual     |
|sailings in many hard gales, and always |
|looking to windward;--for this causes   |
|the muscles about the eyes to become    |
|pursed together. Such eye-wrinkles are  |
|very effectual in a scowl. "Is this     |
|the Captain of the Pequod?" said I,     |
|advancing to the door of the tent.      |
|"Supposing it be the captain of the     |
|Pequod, what dost thou want of him?" he |
|demanded. "I was thinking of shipping." |
|"Thou wast, wast thou? I see thou art   |
|no Nantucketer--ever been in a stove    |
|boat?" "No, Sir, I never have." "Dost   |
|know nothing at all about whaling, I    |
|dare say--eh? "Nothing, Sir; but I have |
|no doubt I shall soon learn. I've been  |
|several voyages in the merchant service,|
|and I think that--" "Merchant service be|
|damned. Talk not that lingo to me. Dost |
|see that leg?--I'll take that leg away  |
|from thy stern, if ever thou talkest    |
|of the marchant service to me again.    |
|Marchant service indeed! I suppose now  |
|ye feel considerable proud of having    |
|served in those marchant ships. But     |
|flukes! man, what makes thee want to    |
|go a whaling, eh?--it looks a little    |
|suspicious, don't it, eh?--Hast not     |
|been a pirate, hast thou?--Didst not    |
|rob thy last Captain, didst thou?--Dost |
|not think of murdering the officers     |
|when thou gettest to sea?" I protested  |
|my innocence of these things. I saw     |
|that under the mask of these half       |
|humorous innuendoes, this old seaman,   |
|as an insulated Quakerish Nantucketer,  |
|was full of his insular prejudices,     |
|and rather distrustful of all aliens,   |
|unless they hailed from Cape Cod or     |
|the Vineyard. "But what takes thee      |
|a-whaling? I want to know that before   |
|I think of shipping ye." "Well, sir,    |
|I want to see what whaling is. I want   |
|to see the world." "Want to see what    |
|whaling is, eh? Have ye clapped eye on  |
|Captain Ahab?" "Who is Captain Ahab,    |
|sir?" "Aye, aye, I thought so. Captain  |
|Ahab is the Captain of this ship."      |
|"I am mistaken then. I thought I was    |
|speaking to the Captain himself." "Thou |
|art speaking to Captain Peleg--that's   |
|who ye are speaking to, young man.      |
|It belongs to me and Captain Bildad     |
|to see the Pequod fitted out for the    |
|voyage, and supplied with all her needs,|
|including crew. We are part owners and  |
|agents. But as I was going to say, if   |
|thou wantest to know what whaling is,   |
|as thou tellest ye do, I can put ye in  |
|a way of finding it out before ye bind  |
|yourself to it, past backing out. Clap  |
|eye on Captain Ahab, young man, and     |
|thou wilt find that he has only one     |
|leg." "What do you mean, sir? Was the   |
|other one lost by a whale?" "Lost by a  |
|whale! Young man, come nearer to me: it |
|was devoured, chewed up, crunched by    |
|the monstrousest parmacetty that ever   |
|chipped a boat!--ah, ah!" I was a little|
|alarmed by his energy, perhaps also a   |
|little touched at the hearty grief in   |
|his concluding exclamation, but said as |
|calmly as I could, "What you say is no  |
|doubt true enough, sir; but how could   |
|I know there was any peculiar ferocity  |
|in that particular whale, though indeed |
|I might have inferred as much from the  |
|simple fact of the accident." "Look ye  |
|now, young man, thy lungs are a sort of |
|soft, d'ye see; thou dost not talk shark|
|a bit. SURE, ye've been to sea before   |
|now; sure of that?" "Sir," said I, "I   |
|thought I told you that I had been four |
|voyages in the merchant--" "Hard down   |
|out of that! Mind what I said about the |
|marchant service--don't aggravate me--I |
|won't have it. But let us understand    |
|each other. I have given thee a hint    |
|about what whaling is; do ye yet feel   |
|inclined for it?" "I do, sir." "Very    |
|good. Now, art thou the man to pitch    |
|a harpoon down a live whale's throat,   |
|and then jump after it? Answer, quick!" |
|"I am, sir, if it should be positively  |
|indispensable to do so; not to be got   |
|rid of, that is; which I don't take to  |
|be the fact." "Good again. Now then,    |
|thou not only wantest to go a-whaling,  |
|to find out by experience what whaling  |
|is, but ye also want to go in order to  |
|see the world? Was not that what ye     |
|said? I thought so. Well then, just step|
|forward there, and take a peep over     |
|the weather-bow, and then back to me    |
|and tell me what ye see there." For a   |
|moment I stood a little puzzled by this |
|curious request, not knowing exactly    |
|how to take it, whether humorously or   |
|in earnest. But concentrating all his   |
|crow's feet into one scowl, Captain     |
|Peleg started me on the errand. Going   |
|forward and glancing over the weather   |
|bow, I perceived that the ship swinging |
|to her anchor with the flood-tide, was  |
|now obliquely pointing towards the open |
|ocean. The prospect was unlimited, but  |
|exceedingly monotonous and forbidding;  |
|not the slightest variety that I could  |
|see. "Well, what's the report?" said    |
|Peleg when I came back; "what did ye    |
|see?" "Not much," I replied--"nothing   |
|but water; considerable horizon though, |
|and there's a squall coming up, I       |
|think." "Well, what does thou think     |
|then of seeing the world? Do ye wish to |
|go round Cape Horn to see any more of   |
|it, eh? Can't ye see the world where    |
|you stand?" I was a little staggered,   |
|but go a-whaling I must, and I would;   |
|and the Pequod was as good a ship       |
|as any--I thought the best--and all     |
|this I now repeated to Peleg. Seeing    |
|me so determined, he expressed his      |
|willingness to ship me. "And thou mayest|
|as well sign the papers right off,"     |
|he added--"come along with ye." And     |
|so saying, he led the way below deck    |
|into the cabin. Seated on the transom   |
|was what seemed to me a most uncommon   |
|and surprising figure. It turned out    |
|to be Captain Bildad, who along with    |
|Captain Peleg was one of the largest    |
|owners of the vessel; the other shares, |
|as is sometimes the case in these       |
|ports, being held by a crowd of old     |
|annuitants; widows, fatherless children,|
|and chancery wards; each owning about   |
|the value of a timber head, or a foot   |
|of plank, or a nail or two in the ship. |
|People in Nantucket invest their money  |
|in whaling vessels, the same way that   |
|you do yours in approved state stocks   |
|bringing in good interest. Now, Bildad, |
|like Peleg, and indeed many other       |
|Nantucketers, was a Quaker, the island  |
|having been originally settled by that  |
|sect; and to this day its inhabitants   |
|in general retain in an uncommon        |
|measure the peculiarities of the        |
|Quaker, only variously and anomalously  |
|modified by things altogether alien and |
|heterogeneous. For some of these same   |
|Quakers are the most sanguinary of all  |
|sailors and whale-hunters. They are     |
|fighting Quakers; they are Quakers with |
|a vengeance. So that there are instances|
|among them of men, who, named with      |
|Scripture names--a singularly common    |
|fashion on the island--and in childhood |
|naturally imbibing the stately dramatic |
|thee and thou of the Quaker idiom;      |
|still, from the audacious, daring, and  |
|boundless adventure of their subsequent |
|lives, strangely blend with these       |
|unoutgrown peculiarities, a thousand    |
|bold dashes of character, not unworthy  |
|a Scandinavian sea-king, or a poetical  |
|Pagan Roman. And when these things unite|
|in a man of greatly superior natural    |
|force, with a globular brain and a      |
|ponderous heart; who has also by the    |
|stillness and seclusion of many long    |
|night-watches in the remotest waters,   |
|and beneath constellations never seen   |
|here at the north, been led to think    |
|untraditionally and independently;      |
|receiving all nature's sweet or savage  |
|impressions fresh from her own virgin   |
|voluntary and confiding breast, and     |
|thereby chiefly, but with some help     |
|from accidental advantages, to learn a  |
|bold and nervous lofty language--that   |
|man makes one in a whole nation's       |
|census--a mighty pageant creature,      |
|formed for noble tragedies. Nor will it |
|at all detract from him, dramatically   |
|regarded, if either by birth or other   |
|circumstances, he have what seems a     |
|half wilful overruling morbidness at    |
|the bottom of his nature. For all men   |
|tragically great are made so through a  |
|certain morbidness. Be sure of this, O  |
|young ambition, all mortal greatness is |
|but disease. But, as yet we have not    |
|to do with such an one, but with quite  |
|another; and still a man, who, if indeed|
|peculiar, it only results again from    |
|another phase of the Quaker, modified by|
|individual circumstances. Like Captain  |
|Peleg, Captain Bildad was a well-to-do, |
|retired whaleman. But unlike Captain    |
|Peleg--who cared not a rush for what    |
|are called serious things, and indeed   |
|deemed those self-same serious things   |
|the veriest of all trifles--Captain     |
|Bildad had not only been originally     |
|educated according to the strictest     |
|sect of Nantucket Quakerism, but all    |
|his subsequent ocean life, and the      |
|sight of many unclad, lovely island     |
|creatures, round the Horn--all that     |
|had not moved this native born Quaker   |
|one single jot, had not so much as      |
|altered one angle of his vest. Still,   |
|for all this immutableness, was there   |
|some lack of common consistency about   |
|worthy Captain Peleg. Though refusing,  |
|from conscientious scruples, to bear    |
|arms against land invaders, yet himself |
|had illimitably invaded the Atlantic    |
|and Pacific; and though a sworn foe     |
|to human bloodshed, yet had he in his   |
|straight-bodied coat, spilled tuns upon |
|tuns of leviathan gore. How now in the  |
|contemplative evening of his days, the  |
|pious Bildad reconciled these things in |
|the reminiscence, I do not know; but it |
|did not seem to concern him much, and   |
|very probably he had long since come    |
|to the sage and sensible conclusion     |
|that a man's religion is one thing, and |
|this practical world quite another.     |
|This world pays dividends. Rising from  |
|a little cabin-boy in short clothes of  |
|the drabbest drab, to a harpooneer in   |
|a broad shad-bellied waistcoat; from    |
|that becoming boat-header, chief-mate,  |
|and captain, and finally a ship owner;  |
|Bildad, as I hinted before, had         |
|concluded his adventurous career by     |
|wholly retiring from active life at the |
|goodly age of sixty, and dedicating his |
|remaining days to the quiet receiving   |
|of his well-earned income. Now, Bildad, |
|I am sorry to say, had the reputation   |
|of being an incorrigible old hunks,     |
|and in his sea-going days, a bitter,    |
|hard task-master. They told me in       |
|Nantucket, though it certainly seems    |
|a curious story, that when he sailed    |
|the old Categut whaleman, his crew,     |
|upon arriving home, were mostly all     |
|carried ashore to the hospital, sore    |
|exhausted and worn out. For a pious     |
|man, especially for a Quaker, he was    |
|certainly rather hard-hearted, to say   |
|the least. He never used to swear,      |
|though, at his men, they said; but      |
|somehow he got an inordinate quantity   |
|of cruel, unmitigated hard work out of  |
|them. When Bildad was a chief-mate, to  |
|have his drab-coloured eye intently     |
|looking at you, made you feel completely|
|nervous, till you could clutch          |
|something--a hammer or a marling-spike, |
|and go to work like mad, at something   |
|or other, never mind what. Indolence    |
|and idleness perished before him. His   |
|own person was the exact embodiment of  |
|his utilitarian character. On his long, |
|gaunt body, he carried no spare flesh,  |
|no superfluous beard, his chin having   |
|a soft, economical nap to it, like the  |
|worn nap of his broad-brimmed hat. Such,|
|then, was the person that I saw seated  |
|on the transom when I followed Captain  |
|Peleg down into the cabin. The space    |
|between the decks was small; and there, |
|bolt-upright, sat old Bildad, who always|
|sat so, and never leaned, and this to   |
|save his coat tails. His broad-brim     |
|was placed beside him; his legs were    |
|stiffly crossed; his drab vesture was   |
|buttoned up to his chin; and spectacles |
|on nose, he seemed absorbed in reading  |
|from a ponderous volume. "Bildad," cried|
|Captain Peleg, "at it again, Bildad, eh?|
|Ye have been studying those Scriptures, |
|now, for the last thirty years, to my   |
|certain knowledge. How far ye got,      |
|Bildad?" As if long habituated to such  |
|profane talk from his old shipmate,     |
|Bildad, without noticing his present    |
|irreverence, quietly looked up, and     |
|seeing me, glanced again inquiringly    |
|towards Peleg. "He says he's our man,   |
|Bildad," said Peleg, "he wants to       |
|ship." "Dost thee?" said Bildad, in     |
|a hollow tone, and turning round to     |
|me. "I dost," said I unconsciously,     |
|he was so intense a Quaker. "What do    |
|ye think of him, Bildad?" said Peleg.   |
|"He'll do," said Bildad, eyeing me,     |
|and then went on spelling away at his   |
|book in a mumbling tone quite audible.  |
|I thought him the queerest old Quaker   |
|I ever saw, especially as Peleg, his    |
|friend and old shipmate, seemed such    |
|a blusterer. But I said nothing, only   |
|looking round me sharply. Peleg now     |
|threw open a chest, and drawing forth   |
|the ship's articles, placed pen and ink |
|before him, and seated himself at a     |
|little table. I began to think it was   |
|high time to settle with myself at what |
|terms I would be willing to engage for  |
|the voyage. I was already aware that in |
|the whaling business they paid no wages;|
|but all hands, including the captain,   |
|received certain shares of the profits  |
|called lays, and that these lays were   |
|proportioned to the degree of importance|
|pertaining to the respective duties of  |
|the ship's company. I was also aware    |
|that being a green hand at whaling, my  |
|own lay would not be very large; but    |
|considering that I was used to the sea, |
|could steer a ship, splice a rope, and  |
|all that, I made no doubt that from     |
|all I had heard I should be offered at  |
|least the 275th lay--that is, the 275th |
|part of the clear net proceeds of the   |
|voyage, whatever that might eventually  |
|amount to. And though the 275th lay was |
|what they call a rather LONG LAY, yet   |
|it was better than nothing; and if we   |
|had a lucky voyage, might pretty nearly |
|pay for the clothing I would wear out   |
|on it, not to speak of my three years'  |
|beef and board, for which I would not   |
|have to pay one stiver. It might be     |
|thought that this was a poor way to     |
|accumulate a princely fortune--and so   |
|it was, a very poor way indeed. But     |
|I am one of those that never take on    |
|about princely fortunes, and am quite   |
|content if the world is ready to board  |
|and lodge me, while I am putting up at  |
|this grim sign of the Thunder Cloud.    |
|Upon the whole, I thought that the 275th|
|lay would be about the fair thing, but  |
|would not have been surprised had I     |
|been offered the 200th, considering I   |
|was of a broad-shouldered make. But     |
|one thing, nevertheless, that made me   |
|a little distrustful about receiving a  |
|generous share of the profits was this: |
|Ashore, I had heard something of both   |
|Captain Peleg and his unaccountable     |
|old crony Bildad; how that they being   |
|the principal proprietors of the        |
|Pequod, therefore the other and more    |
|inconsiderable and scattered owners,    |
|left nearly the whole management of the |
|ship's affairs to these two. And I did  |
|not know but what the stingy old Bildad |
|might have a mighty deal to say about   |
|shipping hands, especially as I now     |
|found him on board the Pequod, quite at |
|home there in the cabin, and reading his|
|Bible as if at his own fireside. Now    |
|while Peleg was vainly trying to mend   |
|a pen with his jack-knife, old Bildad,  |
|to my no small surprise, considering    |
|that he was such an interested party in |
|these proceedings; Bildad never heeded  |
|us, but went on mumbling to himself out |
|of his book, "LAY not up for yourselves |
|treasures upon earth, where moth--"     |
|"Well, Captain Bildad," interrupted     |
|Peleg, "what d'ye say, what lay shall   |
|we give this young man?" "Thou knowest  |
|best," was the sepulchral reply, "the   |
|seven hundred and seventy-seventh       |
|wouldn't be too much, would it?--'where |
|moth and rust do corrupt, but LAY--'"   |
|LAY, indeed, thought I, and such a lay! |
|the seven hundred and seventy-seventh!  |
|Well, old Bildad, you are determined    |
|that I, for one, shall not LAY up many  |
|LAYS here below, where moth and rust    |
|do corrupt. It was an exceedingly LONG  |
|LAY that, indeed; and though from       |
|the magnitude of the figure it might    |
|at first deceive a landsman, yet the    |
|slightest consideration will show that  |
|though seven hundred and seventy-seven  |
|is a pretty large number, yet, when you |
|come to make a TEENTH of it, you will   |
|then see, I say, that the seven hundred |
|and seventy-seventh part of a farthing  |
|is a good deal less than seven hundred  |
|and seventy-seven gold doubloons; and   |
|so I thought at the time. "Why, blast   |
|your eyes, Bildad," cried Peleg, "thou  |
|dost not want to swindle this young man!|
|he must have more than that." "Seven    |
|hundred and seventy-seventh," again     |
|said Bildad, without lifting his eyes;  |
|and then went on mumbling--"for where   |
|your treasure is, there will your heart |
|be also." "I am going to put him down   |
|for the three hundredth," said Peleg,   |
|"do ye hear that, Bildad! The three     |
|hundredth lay, I say." Bildad laid      |
|down his book, and turning solemnly     |
|towards him said, "Captain Peleg, thou  |
|hast a generous heart; but thou must    |
|consider the duty thou owest to the     |
|other owners of this ship--widows and   |
|orphans, many of them--and that if we   |
|too abundantly reward the labors of this|
|young man, we may be taking the bread   |
|from those widows and those orphans.    |
|The seven hundred and seventy-seventh   |
|lay, Captain Peleg." "Thou Bildad!"     |
|roared Peleg, starting up and clattering|
|about the cabin. "Blast ye, Captain     |
|Bildad, if I had followed thy advice    |
|in these matters, I would afore now     |
|had a conscience to lug about that      |
|would be heavy enough to founder the    |
|largest ship that ever sailed round     |
|Cape Horn." "Captain Peleg," said       |
|Bildad steadily, "thy conscience may    |
|be drawing ten inches of water, or ten  |
|fathoms, I can't tell; but as thou art  |
|still an impenitent man, Captain Peleg, |
|I greatly fear lest thy conscience be   |
|but a leaky one; and will in the end    |
|sink thee foundering down to the fiery  |
|pit, Captain Peleg." "Fiery pit! fiery  |
|pit! ye insult me, man; past all natural|
|bearing, ye insult me. It's an all-fired|
|outrage to tell any human creature that |
|he's bound to hell. Flukes and flames!  |
|Bildad, say that again to me, and start |
|my soul-bolts, but I'll--I'll--yes,     |
|I'll swallow a live goat with all his   |
|hair and horns on. Out of the cabin, ye |
|canting, drab-coloured son of a wooden  |
|gun--a straight wake with ye!" As he    |
|thundered out this he made a rush at    |
|Bildad, but with a marvellous oblique,  |
|sliding celerity, Bildad for that time  |
|eluded him. Alarmed at this terrible    |
|outburst between the two principal and  |
|responsible owners of the ship, and     |
|feeling half a mind to give up all idea |
|of sailing in a vessel so questionably  |
|owned and temporarily commanded, I      |
|stepped aside from the door to give     |
|egress to Bildad, who, I made no doubt, |
|was all eagerness to vanish from before |
|the awakened wrath of Peleg. But to     |
|my astonishment, he sat down again on   |
|the transom very quietly, and seemed    |
|to have not the slightest intention     |
|of withdrawing. He seemed quite used    |
|to impenitent Peleg and his ways. As    |
|for Peleg, after letting off his rage   |
|as he had, there seemed no more left    |
|in him, and he, too, sat down like a    |
|lamb, though he twitched a little as if |
|still nervously agitated. "Whew!" he    |
|whistled at last--"the squall's gone    |
|off to leeward, I think. Bildad, thou   |
|used to be good at sharpening a lance,  |
|mend that pen, will ye. My jack-knife   |
|here needs the grindstone. That's he;   |
|thank ye, Bildad. Now then, my young    |
|man, Ishmael's thy name, didn't ye say? |
|Well then, down ye go here, Ishmael,    |
|for the three hundredth lay." "Captain  |
|Peleg," said I, "I have a friend with   |
|me who wants to ship too--shall I bring |
|him down to-morrow?" "To be sure," said |
|Peleg. "Fetch him along, and we'll      |
|look at him." "What lay does he want?"  |
|groaned Bildad, glancing up from the    |
|book in which he had again been burying |
|himself. "Oh! never thee mind about     |
|that, Bildad," said Peleg. "Has he ever |
|whaled it any?" turning to me. "Killed  |
|more whales than I can count, Captain   |
|Peleg." "Well, bring him along then."   |
|And, after signing the papers, off I    |
|went; nothing doubting but that I had   |
|done a good morning's work, and that the|
|Pequod was the identical ship that Yojo |
|had provided to carry Queequeg and me   |
|round the Cape. But I had not proceeded |
|far, when I began to bethink me that    |
|the Captain with whom I was to sail yet |
|remained unseen by me; though, indeed,  |
|in many cases, a whale-ship will be     |
|completely fitted out, and receive all  |
|her crew on board, ere the captain makes|
|himself visible by arriving to take     |
|command; for sometimes these voyages are|
|so prolonged, and the shore intervals at|
|home so exceedingly brief, that if the  |
|captain have a family, or any absorbing |
|concernment of that sort, he does not   |
|trouble himself much about his ship in  |
|port, but leaves her to the owners till |
|all is ready for sea. However, it is    |
|always as well to have a look at him    |
|before irrevocably committing yourself  |
|into his hands. Turning back I accosted |
|Captain Peleg, inquiring where Captain  |
|Ahab was to be found. "And what dost    |
|thou want of Captain Ahab? It's all     |
|right enough; thou art shipped." "Yes,  |
|but I should like to see him." "But I   |
|don't think thou wilt be able to at     |
|present. I don't know exactly what's    |
|the matter with him; but he keeps close |
|inside the house; a sort of sick, and   |
|yet he don't look so. In fact, he ain't |
|sick; but no, he isn't well either. Any |
|how, young man, he won't always see     |
|me, so I don't suppose he will thee.    |
|He's a queer man, Captain Ahab--so some |
|think--but a good one. Oh, thou'lt like |
|him well enough; no fear, no fear. He's |
|a grand, ungodly, god-like man, Captain |
|Ahab; doesn't speak much; but, when he  |
|does speak, then you may well listen.   |
|Mark ye, be forewarned; Ahab's above the|
|common; Ahab's been in colleges, as well|
|as 'mong the cannibals; been used to    |
|deeper wonders than the waves; fixed his|
|fiery lance in mightier, stranger foes  |
|than whales. His lance! aye, the keenest|
|and the surest that out of all our isle!|
|Oh! he ain't Captain Bildad; no, and he |
|ain't Captain Peleg; HE'S AHAB, boy; and|
|Ahab of old, thou knowest, was a crowned|
|king!" "And a very vile one. When that  |
|wicked king was slain, the dogs, did    |
|they not lick his blood?" "Come hither  |
|to me--hither, hither," said Peleg, with|
|a significance in his eye that almost   |
|startled me. "Look ye, lad; never say   |
|that on board the Pequod. 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 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!" As I walked   |
|away, I was full of thoughtfulness; what|
|had been incidentally revealed to me of |
|Captain Ahab, filled me with a certain  |
|wild vagueness of painfulness concerning|
|him. And somehow, at the time, I felt a |
|sympathy and a sorrow for him, but for  |
|I don't know what, unless it was the    |
|cruel loss of his leg. And yet I also   |
|felt a strange awe of him; but that sort|
|of awe, which I cannot at all describe, |
|was not exactly awe; I do not know what |
|it was. But I felt it; and it did not   |
|disincline me towards him; though I felt|
|impatience at what seemed like mystery  |
|in him, so imperfectly as he was known  |
|to me then. However, my thoughts were at|
|length carried in other directions, so  |
|that for the present dark Ahab slipped  |
|my mind. As Queequeg's Ramadan, or      |
|Fasting and Humiliation, was to continue|
|all day, I did not choose to disturb him|
|till towards night-fall; for I cherish  |
|the greatest respect towards everybody's|
|religious obligations, never mind how   |
|comical, and could not find it in my    |
|heart to undervalue even a congregation |
|of ants worshipping a toad-stool; or    |
|those other creatures in certain parts  |
|of our earth, who with a degree of      |
|footmanism quite unprecedented in other |
|planets, bow down before the torso of   |
|a deceased landed proprietor merely on  |
|account of the inordinate possessions   |
|yet owned and rented in his name. I say,|
|we good Presbyterian Christians should  |
|be charitable in these things, and not  |
|fancy ourselves so vastly superior to   |
|other mortals, pagans and what not,     |
|because of their half-crazy conceits on |
|these subjects. There was Queequeg, now,|
|certainly entertaining the most absurd  |
|notions about Yojo and his Ramadan;--but|
|what of that? Queequeg thought he knew  |
|what he was about, I suppose; he seemed |
|to be content; and there let him rest.  |
|All our arguing with him would not      |
|avail; let him be, I say: and Heaven    |
|have mercy on us all--Presbyterians     |
|and Pagans alike--for we are all        |
|somehow dreadfully cracked about the    |
|head, and sadly need mending. Towards   |
|evening, when I felt assured that all   |
|his performances and rituals must be    |
|over, I went up to his room and knocked |
|at the door; but no answer. I tried to  |
|open it, but it was fastened inside.    |
|"Queequeg," said I softly through the   |
|key-hole:--all silent. "I say, Queequeg!|
|why don't you speak? It's I--Ishmael."  |
|But all remained still as before. I     |
|began to grow alarmed. I had allowed him|
|such abundant time; I thought he might  |
|have had an apoplectic fit. I looked    |
|through the key-hole; but the door      |
|opening into an odd corner of the room, |
|the key-hole prospect was but a crooked |
|and sinister one. I could only see part |
|of the foot-board of the bed and a line |
|of the wall, but nothing more. I was    |
|surprised to behold resting against the |
|wall the wooden shaft of Queequeg's     |
|harpoon, which the landlady the evening |
|previous had taken from him, before our |
|mounting to the chamber. That's strange,|
|thought I; but at any rate, since the   |
|harpoon stands yonder, and he seldom or |
|never goes abroad without it, therefore |
|he must be inside here, and no possible |
|mistake. "Queequeg!--Queequeg!"--all    |
|still. Something must have happened.    |
|Apoplexy! I tried to burst open the     |
|door; but it stubbornly resisted.       |
|Running down stairs, I quickly stated   |
|my suspicions to the first person I     |
|met--the chamber-maid. "La! la!" she    |
|cried, "I thought something must be the |
|matter. I went to make the bed after    |
|breakfast, and the door was locked;     |
|and not a mouse to be heard; and it's   |
|been just so silent ever since. But I   |
|thought, may be, you had both gone off  |
|and locked your baggage in for safe     |
|keeping. La! la, ma'am!--Mistress!      |
|murder! Mrs. Hussey! apoplexy!"--and    |
|with these cries, she ran towards the   |
|kitchen, I following. Mrs. Hussey soon  |
|appeared, with a mustard-pot in one hand|
|and a vinegar-cruet in the other, having|
|just broken away from the occupation    |
|of attending to the castors, and        |
|scolding her little black boy meantime. |
|"Wood-house!" cried I, "which way to it?|
|Run for God's sake, and fetch something |
|to pry open the door--the axe!--the axe!|
|he's had a stroke; depend upon it!"--and|
|so saying I was unmethodically rushing  |
|up stairs again empty-handed, when Mrs. |
|Hussey interposed the mustard-pot and   |
|vinegar-cruet, and the entire castor    |
|of her countenance. "What's the matter  |
|with you, young man?" "Get the axe!     |
|For God's sake, run for the doctor,     |
|some one, while I pry it open!" "Look   |
|here," said the landlady, quickly       |
|putting down the vinegar-cruet, so as   |
|to have one hand free; "look here; are  |
|you talking about prying open any of    |
|my doors?"--and with that she seized    |
|my arm. "What's the matter with you?    |
|What's the matter with you, shipmate?"  |
|In as calm, but rapid a manner as       |
|possible, I gave her to understand the  |
|whole case. Unconsciously clapping the  |
|vinegar-cruet to one side of her nose,  |
|she ruminated for an instant; then      |
|exclaimed--"No! I haven't seen it since |
|I put it there." Running to a little    |
|closet under the landing of the stairs, |
|she glanced in, and returning, told me  |
|that Queequeg's harpoon was missing.    |
|"He's killed himself," she cried. "It's |
|unfort'nate Stiggs done over again there|
|goes another counterpane--God pity his  |
|poor mother!--it will be the ruin of    |
|my house. Has the poor lad a sister?    |
|Where's that girl?--there, Betty, go    |
|to Snarles the Painter, and tell him    |
|to paint me a sign, with--"no suicides  |
|permitted here, and no smoking in the   |
|parlor;"--might as well kill both birds |
|at once. Kill? The Lord be merciful to  |
|his ghost! What's that noise there? You,|
|young man, avast there!" And running    |
|up after me, she caught me as I was     |
|again trying to force open the door.    |
|"I don't allow it; I won't have my      |
|premises spoiled. Go for the locksmith, |
|there's one about a mile from here.     |
|But avast!" putting her hand in her     |
|side-pocket, "here's a key that'll fit, |
|I guess; let's see." And with that,     |
|she turned it in the lock; but, alas!   |
|Queequeg's supplemental bolt remained   |
|unwithdrawn within. "Have to burst it   |
|open," said I, and was running down the |
|entry a little, for a good start, when  |
|the landlady caught at me, again vowing |
|I should not break down her premises;   |
|but I tore from her, and with a sudden  |
|bodily rush dashed myself full against  |
|the mark. With a prodigious noise the   |
|door flew open, and the knob slamming   |
|against the wall, sent the plaster to   |
|the ceiling; and there, good heavens!   |
|there sat Queequeg, altogether cool and |
|self-collected; right in the middle     |
|of the room; squatting on his hams,     |
|and holding Yojo on top of his head.    |
|He looked neither one way nor the       |
|other way, but sat like a carved image  |
|with scarce a sign of active life.      |
|"Queequeg," said I, going up to him,    |
|"Queequeg, what's the matter with you?" |
|"He hain't been a sittin' so all day,   |
|has he?" said the landlady. But all we  |
|said, not a word could we drag out of   |
|him; I almost felt like pushing him     |
|over, so as to change his position, for |
|it was almost intolerable, it seemed so |
|painfully and unnaturally constrained;  |
|especially, as in all probability he had|
|been sitting so for upwards of eight    |
|or ten hours, going too without his     |
|regular meals. "Mrs. Hussey," said I,   |
|"he's ALIVE at all events; so leave us, |
|if you please, and I will see to this   |
|strange affair myself." Closing the     |
|door upon the landlady, I endeavored to |
|prevail upon Queequeg to take a chair;  |
|but in vain. There he sat; and all he   |
|could do--for all my polite arts and    |
|blandishments--he would not move a peg, |
|nor say a single word, nor even look    |
|at me, nor notice my presence in the    |
|slightest way. I wonder, thought I,     |
|if this can possibly be a part of his   |
|Ramadan; do they fast on their hams     |
|that way in his native island. It must  |
|be so; yes, it's part of his creed, I   |
|suppose; well, then, let him rest; he'll|
|get up sooner or later, no doubt. It    |
|can't last for ever, thank God, and his |
|Ramadan only comes once a year; and I   |
|don't believe it's very punctual then.  |
|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. "For heaven's sake,   |
|Queequeg, get up and shake yourself; get|
|up and have some supper. You'll starve; |
|you'll kill yourself, Queequeg." But    |
|not a word did he reply. Despairing of  |
|him, therefore, I determined to go to   |
|bed and to sleep; and no doubt, before  |
|a great while, he would follow me. But  |
|previous to turning in, I took my heavy |
|bearskin jacket, and threw it over him, |
|as it promised to be a very cold night; |
|and he had nothing but his ordinary     |
|round jacket on. For some time, do all I|
|would, I could not get into the faintest|
|doze. I had blown out the candle; and   |
|the mere thought of Queequeg--not four  |
|feet off--sitting there in that uneasy  |
|position, stark alone in the cold and   |
|dark; this made me really wretched.     |
|Think of it; sleeping all night in the  |
|same room with a wide awake pagan on    |
|his hams in this dreary, unaccountable  |
|Ramadan! But somehow I dropped off at   |
|last, and knew nothing more till break  |
|of day; when, looking over the bedside, |
|there squatted Queequeg, as if he had   |
|been screwed down to the floor. But as  |
|soon as the first glimpse of sun entered|
|the window, up he got, with stiff and   |
|grating joints, but with a cheerful     |
|look; limped towards me where I lay;    |
|pressed his forehead again against mine;|
|and said his Ramadan was over. Now, as  |
|I before hinted, I have no objection to |
|any person's religion, be it what it    |
|may, so long as that person does not    |
|kill or insult any other person, because|
|that other person don't believe it      |
|also. But when a man's religion becomes |
|really frantic; when it is a positive   |
|torment to him; and, in fine, makes this|
|earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to   |
|lodge in; then I think it high time to  |
|take that individual aside and argue    |
|the point with him. And just so I now   |
|did with Queequeg. "Queequeg," said I,  |
|"get into bed now, and lie and listen   |
|to me." I then went on, beginning with  |
|the rise and progress of the primitive  |
|religions, and coming down to the       |
|various religions of the present time,  |
|during which time I labored to show     |
|Queequeg that all these Lents, Ramadans,|
|and prolonged ham-squattings in cold,   |
|cheerless rooms were stark nonsense; bad|
|for the health; useless for the soul;   |
|opposed, in short, to the obvious laws  |
|of Hygiene and common sense. I told him,|
|too, that he being in other things such |
|an extremely sensible and sagacious     |
|savage, it pained me, very badly pained |
|me, to see him now so deplorably foolish|
|about this ridiculous Ramadan of his.   |
|Besides, argued I, fasting makes the    |
|body cave in; hence the spirit caves in;|
|and all thoughts born of a fast must    |
|necessarily be half-starved. This is the|
|reason why most dyspeptic religionists  |
|cherish such melancholy notions         |
|about their hereafters. In one word,    |
|Queequeg, said I, rather digressively;  |
|hell is an idea first born on an        |
|undigested apple-dumpling; and since    |
|then perpetuated through the hereditary |
|dyspepsias nurtured by Ramadans. I then |
|asked Queequeg whether he himself was   |
|ever troubled with dyspepsia; expressing|
|the idea very plainly, so that he could |
|take it in. He said no; only upon one   |
|memorable occasion. It was after a great|
|feast given by his father the king, on  |
|the gaining of a great battle wherein   |
|fifty of the enemy had been killed by   |
|about two o'clock in the afternoon,     |
|and all cooked and eaten that very      |
|evening. "No more, Queequeg," said I,   |
|shuddering; "that will do;" for I knew  |
|the inferences without his further      |
|hinting them. I had seen a sailor who   |
|had visited that very island, and he    |
|told me that it was the custom, when a  |
|great battle had been gained there, to  |
|barbecue all the slain in the yard or   |
|garden of the victor; and then, one by  |
|one, they were placed in great wooden   |
|trenchers, and garnished round like a   |
|pilau, with breadfruit and cocoanuts;   |
|and with some parsley in their mouths,  |
|were sent round with the victor's       |
|compliments to all his friends, just    |
|as though these presents were so many   |
|Christmas turkeys. After all, I do not  |
|think that my remarks about religion    |
|made much impression upon Queequeg.     |
|Because, in the first place, he somehow |
|seemed dull of hearing on that important|
|subject, unless considered from his     |
|own point of view; and, in the second   |
|place, he did not more than one third   |
|understand me, couch my ideas simply    |
|as I would; and, finally, he no doubt   |
|thought he knew a good deal more about  |
|the true religion than I did. He looked |
|at me with a sort of condescending      |
|concern and compassion, as though he    |
|thought it a great pity that such       |
|a sensible young man should be so       |
|hopelessly lost to evangelical pagan    |
|piety. At last we rose and dressed;     |
|and Queequeg, taking a prodigiously     |
|hearty breakfast of chowders of all     |
|sorts, so that the landlady should      |
|not make much profit by reason of his   |
|Ramadan, we sallied out to board the    |
|Pequod, sauntering along, and picking   |
|our teeth with halibut bones. As we     |
|were walking down the end of the wharf  |
|towards the ship, Queequeg carrying     |
|his harpoon, Captain Peleg in his       |
|gruff voice loudly hailed us from his   |
|wigwam, saying he had not suspected my  |
|friend was a cannibal, and furthermore  |
|announcing that he let no cannibals     |
|on board that craft, unless they        |
|previously produced their papers. "What |
|do you mean by that, Captain Peleg?"    |
|said I, now jumping on the bulwarks,    |
|and leaving my comrade standing on      |
|the wharf. "I mean," he replied, "he    |
|must show his papers." "Yes," said      |
|Captain Bildad in his hollow voice,     |
|sticking his head from behind Peleg's,  |
|out of the wigwam. "He must show that   |
|he's converted. Son of darkness,"       |
|he added, turning to Queequeg, "art     |
|thou at present in communion with any   |
|Christian church?" "Why," said I, "he's |
|a member of the first Congregational    |
|Church." Here be it said, that many     |
|tattooed savages sailing in Nantucket   |
|ships at last come to be converted into |
|the churches. "First Congregational     |
|Church," cried Bildad, "what! that      |
|worships in Deacon Deuteronomy Coleman's|
|meeting-house?" and so saying, taking   |
|out his spectacles, he rubbed them with |
|his great yellow bandana handkerchief,  |
|and putting them on very carefully, came|
|out of the wigwam, and leaning stiffly  |
|over the bulwarks, took a good long look|
|at Queequeg. "How long hath he been a   |
|member?" he then said, turning to me;   |
|"not very long, I rather guess, young   |
|man." "No," said Peleg, "and he hasn't  |
|been baptized right either, or it would |
|have washed some of that devil's blue   |
|off his face." "Do tell, now," cried    |
|Bildad, "is this Philistine a regular   |
|member of Deacon Deuteronomy's meeting? |
|I never saw him going there, and I pass |
|it every Lord's day." "I don't know     |
|anything about Deacon Deuteronomy or    |
|his meeting," said I; "all I know is,   |
|that Queequeg here is a born member of  |
|the First Congregational Church. He is  |
|a deacon himself, Queequeg is." "Young  |
|man," said Bildad sternly, "thou art    |
|skylarking with me--explain thyself,    |
|thou young Hittite. What church dost    |
|thee mean? answer me." Finding myself   |
|thus hard pushed, I replied. "I mean,   |
|sir, the same ancient Catholic Church   |
|to which you and I, and Captain Peleg   |
|there, and Queequeg here, and all of us,|
|and every mother's son and soul of us   |
|belong; the great and everlasting First |
|Congregation of this whole worshipping  |
|world; we all belong to that; only some |
|of us cherish some queer crotchets no   |
|ways touching the grand belief; in      |
|THAT we all join hands." "Splice, thou  |
|mean'st SPLICE hands," cried Peleg,     |
|drawing nearer. "Young man, you'd better|
|ship for a missionary, instead of a     |
|fore-mast hand; I never heard a better  |
|sermon. Deacon Deuteronomy--why Father  |
|Mapple himself couldn't beat it, and    |
|he's reckoned something. Come aboard,   |
|come aboard; never mind about the       |
|papers. I say, tell Quohog there--what's|
|that you call him? tell Quohog to step  |
|along. By the great anchor, what a      |
|harpoon he's got there! looks like good |
|stuff that; and he handles it about     |
|right. I say, Quohog, or whatever your  |
|name is, did you ever stand in the head |
|of a whale-boat? did you ever strike a  |
|fish?" Without saying a word, Queequeg, |
|in his wild sort of way, jumped upon the|
|bulwarks, from thence into the bows of  |
|one of the whale-boats hanging to the   |
|side; and then bracing his left knee,   |
|and poising his harpoon, cried out in   |
|some such way as this:-- "Cap'ain, you  |
|see him small drop tar on water dere?   |
|You see him? well, spose him one whale  |
|eye, well, den!" and taking sharp       |
|aim at it, he darted the iron right     |
|over old Bildad's broad brim, clean     |
|across the ship's decks, and struck     |
|the glistening tar spot out of sight.   |
|"Now," said Queequeg, quietly hauling   |
|in the line, "spos-ee him whale-e eye;  |
|why, dad whale dead." "Quick, Bildad,"  |
|said Peleg, his partner, who, aghast    |
|at the close vicinity of the flying     |
|harpoon, had retreated towards the cabin|
|gangway. "Quick, I say, you Bildad, and |
|get the ship's papers. We must have     |
|Hedgehog there, I mean Quohog, in one   |
|of our boats. Look ye, Quohog, we'll    |
|give ye the ninetieth lay, and that's   |
|more than ever was given a harpooneer   |
|yet out of Nantucket." So down we went  |
|into the cabin, and to my great joy     |
|Queequeg was soon enrolled among the    |
|same ship's company to which I myself   |
|belonged. When all preliminaries were   |
|over and Peleg had got everything ready |
|for signing, he turned to me and said,  |
|"I guess, Quohog there don't know how   |
|to write, does he? I say, Quohog, blast |
|ye! dost thou sign thy name or make thy |
|mark? But at this question, Queequeg,   |
|who had twice or thrice before taken    |
|part in similar ceremonies, looked no   |
|ways abashed; but taking the offered    |
|pen, copied upon the paper, in the      |
|proper place, an exact counterpart of a |
|queer round figure which was tattooed   |
|upon his arm; so that through Captain   |
|Peleg's obstinate mistake touching his  |
|appellative, it stood something like    |
|this:-- Quohog. his X mark. Meanwhile   |
|Captain Bildad sat earnestly and        |
|steadfastly eyeing Queequeg, and at last|
|rising solemnly and fumbling in the     |
|huge pockets of his broad-skirted drab  |
|coat, took out a bundle of tracts, and  |
|selecting one entitled "The Latter Day  |
|Coming; or No Time to Lose," placed it  |
|in Queequeg's hands, and then grasping  |
|them and the book with both his, looked |
|earnestly into his eyes, and said,      |
|"Son of darkness, I must do my duty by  |
|thee; I am part owner of this ship,     |
|and feel concerned for the souls of     |
|all its crew; if thou still clingest    |
|to thy Pagan ways, which I sadly fear,  |
|I beseech thee, remain not for aye a    |
|Belial bondsman. Spurn the idol Bell,   |
|and the hideous dragon; turn from the   |
|wrath to come; mind thine eye, I say;   |
|oh! goodness gracious! steer clear      |
|of the fiery pit!" Something of the     |
|salt sea yet lingered in old Bildad's   |
|language, heterogeneously mixed with    |
|Scriptural and domestic phrases. "Avast |
|there, avast there, Bildad, avast       |
|now spoiling our harpooneer," Peleg.    |
|"Pious harpooneers never make good      |
|voyagers--it takes the shark out of 'em;|
|no harpooneer is worth a straw who aint |
|pretty sharkish. There was young Nat    |
|Swaine, once the bravest boat-header    |
|out of all Nantucket and the Vineyard;  |
|he joined the meeting, and never came   |
|to good. He got so frightened about     |
|his plaguy soul, that he shrinked and   |
|sheered away from whales, for fear of   |
|after-claps, in case he got stove and   |
|went to Davy Jones." "Peleg! Peleg!"    |
|said Bildad, lifting his eyes and hands,|
|"thou thyself, as I myself, hast seen   |
|many a perilous time; thou knowest,     |
|Peleg, what it is to have the fear of   |
|death; how, then, can'st thou prate in  |
|this ungodly guise. Thou beliest thine  |
|own heart, Peleg. Tell me, when this    |
|same Pequod here had her three masts    |
|overboard in that typhoon on Japan, that|
|same voyage when thou went mate with    |
|Captain Ahab, did'st thou not think of  |
|Death and the Judgment then?" "Hear him,|
|hear him now," cried Peleg, marching    |
|across the cabin, and thrusting his     |
|hands far down into his pockets,--"hear |
|him, all of ye. Think of that! When     |
|every moment we thought the ship would  |
|sink! Death and the Judgment then? What?|
|With all three masts making such an     |
|everlasting thundering against the side;|
|and every sea breaking over us, fore and|
|aft. Think of Death and the Judgment    |
|then? No! no time to think about Death  |
|then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I  |
|was thinking of; and how to save all    |
|hands--how to rig jury-masts--how to get|
|into the nearest port; that was what I  |
|was thinking of." Bildad said no more,  |
|but buttoning up his coat, stalked on   |
|deck, where we followed him. There he   |
|stood, very quietly overlooking some    |
|sailmakers who were mending a top-sail  |
|in the waist. Now and then he stooped   |
|to pick up a patch, or save an end of   |
|tarred twine, which otherwise might have|
|been wasted. "Shipmates, have ye shipped|
|in that ship?" Queequeg and I had just  |
|left the Pequod, and were sauntering    |
|away from the water, for the moment     |
|each occupied with his own thoughts,    |
|when the above words were put to us by  |
|a stranger, who, pausing before us,     |
|levelled his massive forefinger at the  |
|vessel in question. He was but shabbily |
|apparelled in faded jacket and patched  |
|trowsers; a rag of a black handkerchief |
|investing his neck. A confluent         |
|small-pox had in all directions flowed  |
|over his face, and left it like the     |
|complicated ribbed bed of a torrent,    |
|when the rushing waters have been       |
|dried up. "Have ye shipped in her?" he  |
|repeated. "You mean the ship Pequod,    |
|I suppose," said I, trying to gain a    |
|little more time for an uninterrupted   |
|look at him. "Aye, the Pequod--that     |
|ship there," he said, drawing back his  |
|whole arm, and then rapidly shoving it  |
|straight out from him, with the fixed   |
|bayonet of his pointed finger darted    |
|full at the object. "Yes," said I,      |
|"we have just signed the articles."     |
|"Anything down there about your souls?" |
|"About what?" "Oh, perhaps you hav'n't  |
|got any," he said quickly. "No matter   |
|though, I know many chaps that hav'n't  |
|got any,--good luck to 'em; and they are|
|all the better off for it. A soul's a   |
|sort of a fifth wheel to a wagon." "What|
|are you jabbering about, shipmate?"     |
|said I. "HE'S got enough, though, to    |
|make up for all deficiencies of that    |
|sort in other chaps," abruptly said the |
|stranger, placing a nervous emphasis    |
|upon the word HE. "Queequeg," said      |
|I, "let's go; this fellow has broken    |
|loose from somewhere; he's talking      |
|about something and somebody we don't   |
|know." "Stop!" cried the stranger. "Ye  |
|said true--ye hav'n't seen Old Thunder  |
|yet, have ye?" "Who's Old Thunder?"     |
|said I, again riveted with the insane   |
|earnestness of his manner. "Captain     |
|Ahab." "What! the captain of our ship,  |
|the Pequod?" "Aye, among some of us old |
|sailor chaps, he goes by that name. Ye  |
|hav'n't seen him yet, have ye?" "No,    |
|we hav'n't. He's sick they say, but is  |
|getting better, and will be all right   |
|again before long." "All right again    |
|before long!" laughed the stranger, with|
|a solemnly derisive sort of laugh. "Look|
|ye; when Captain Ahab is all right, then|
|this left arm of mine will be all right;|
|not before." "What do you know about    |
|him?" "What did they TELL you about     |
|him? Say that!" "They didn't tell much  |
|of anything about him; only I've heard  |
|that he's a good whale-hunter, and a    |
|good captain to his crew." "That's true,|
|that's true--yes, both true enough. But |
|you must jump when he gives an order.   |
|Step and growl; growl and go--that's    |
|the word with Captain Ahab. But nothing |
|about that thing that happened to him   |
|off Cape Horn, long ago, when he lay    |
|like dead for three days and nights;    |
|nothing about that deadly skrimmage     |
|with the Spaniard afore the altar in    |
|Santa?--heard nothing about that, eh?   |
|Nothing about the silver calabash he    |
|spat into? And nothing about his losing |
|his leg last voyage, according to the   |
|prophecy. Didn't ye hear a word about   |
|them matters and something more, eh?    |
|No, I don't think ye did; how could     |
|ye? Who knows it? Not all Nantucket,    |
|I guess. But hows'ever, mayhap, ye've   |
|heard tell about the leg, and how he    |
|lost it; aye, ye have heard of that, I  |
|dare say. Oh yes, THAT every one knows  |
|a'most--I mean they know he's only      |
|one leg; and that a parmacetti took     |
|the other off." "My friend," said I,    |
|"what all this gibberish of yours is    |
|about, I don't know, and I don't much   |
|care; for it seems to me that you must  |
|be a little damaged in the head. But    |
|if you are speaking of Captain Ahab,    |
|of that ship there, the Pequod, then    |
|let me tell you, that I know all about  |
|the loss of his leg." "ALL about it,    |
|eh--sure you do?--all?" "Pretty sure."  |
|With finger pointed and eye levelled at |
|the Pequod, the beggar-like stranger    |
|stood a moment, as if in a troubled     |
|reverie; then starting a little, turned |
|and said:--"Ye've shipped, have ye?     |
|Names down on the papers? Well, well,   |
|what's signed, is signed; and what's to |
|be, will be; and then again, perhaps it |
|won't be, after all. Anyhow, it's all   |
|fixed and arranged a'ready; and some    |
|sailors or other must go with him, I    |
|suppose; as well these as any other men,|
|God pity 'em! Morning to ye, shipmates, |
|morning; the ineffable heavens bless ye;|
|I'm sorry I stopped ye." "Look here,    |
|friend," said I, "if you have anything  |
|important to tell us, out with it; but  |
|if you are only trying to bamboozle us, |
|you are mistaken in your game; that's   |
|all I have to say." "And it's said very |
|well, and I like to hear a chap talk    |
|up that way; you are just the man for   |
|him--the likes of ye. Morning to ye,    |
|shipmates, morning! Oh! when ye get     |
|there, tell 'em I've concluded not to   |
|make one of 'em." "Ah, my dear fellow,  |
|you can't fool us that way--you can't   |
|fool us. It is the easiest thing in     |
|the world for a man to look as if he    |
|had a great secret in him." "Morning    |
|to ye, shipmates, morning." "Morning    |
|it is," said I. "Come along, Queequeg,  |
|let's leave this crazy man. But stop,   |
|tell me your name, will you?" "Elijah." |
|Elijah! thought I, and we walked away,  |
|both commenting, after each other's     |
|fashion, upon this ragged old sailor;   |
|and agreed that he was nothing but a    |
|humbug, trying to be a bugbear. But we  |
|had not gone perhaps above a hundred    |
|yards, when chancing to turn a corner,  |
|and looking back as I did so, who should|
|be seen but Elijah following us, though |
|at a distance. Somehow, the sight of    |
|him struck me so, that I said nothing   |
|to Queequeg of his being behind, but    |
|passed on with my comrade, anxious to   |
|see whether the stranger would turn     |
|the same corner that we did. He did;    |
|and then it seemed to me that he was    |
|dogging us, but with what intent I      |
|could not for the life of me imagine.   |
|This circumstance, coupled with his     |
|ambiguous, half-hinting, half-revealing,|
|shrouded sort of talk, now begat in     |
|me all kinds of vague wonderments and   |
|half-apprehensions, and all connected   |
|with the Pequod; and Captain Ahab; and  |
|the leg he had lost; and the Cape Horn  |
|fit; and the silver calabash; and what  |
|Captain Peleg had said of him, when I   |
|left the ship the day previous; and the |
|prediction of the squaw Tistig; and the |
|voyage we had bound ourselves to sail;  |
|and a hundred other shadowy things. I   |
|was resolved to satisfy myself whether  |
|this ragged Elijah was really dogging us|
|or not, and with that intent crossed the|
|way with Queequeg, and on that side of  |
|it retraced our steps. But Elijah passed|
|on, without seeming to notice us. This  |
|relieved me; and once more, and finally |
|as it seemed to me, I pronounced him in |
|my heart, a humbug. A day or two passed,|
|and there was great activity aboard the |
|Pequod. Not only were the old sails     |
|being mended, but new sails were coming |
|on board, and bolts of canvas, and      |
|coils of rigging; in short, everything  |
|betokened that the ship's preparations  |
|were hurrying to a close. Captain Peleg |
|seldom or never went ashore, but sat in |
|his wigwam keeping a sharp look-out upon|
|the hands: Bildad did all the purchasing|
|and providing at the stores; and the men|
|employed in the hold and on the rigging |
|were working till long after night-fall.|
|On the day following Queequeg's signing |
|the articles, word was given at all     |
|the inns where the ship's company were  |
|stopping, that their chests must be     |
|on board before night, for there was    |
|no telling how soon the vessel might    |
|be sailing. So Queequeg and I got       |
|down our traps, resolving, however,     |
|to sleep ashore till the last. But it   |
|seems they always give very long notice |
|in these cases, and the ship did not    |
|sail for several days. But no wonder;   |
|there was a good deal to be done, and   |
|there is no telling how many things to  |
|be thought of, before the Pequod was    |
|fully equipped. Every one knows what a  |
|multitude of things--beds, sauce-pans,  |
|knives and forks, shovels and tongs,    |
|napkins, nut-crackers, and what not,    |
|are indispensable to the business of    |
|housekeeping. Just so with whaling,     |
|which necessitates a three-years'       |
|housekeeping upon the wide ocean,       |
|far from all grocers, costermongers,    |
|doctors, bakers, and bankers. And       |
|though this also holds true of merchant |
|vessels, yet not by any means to the    |
|same extent as with whalemen. For       |
|besides the great length of the whaling |
|voyage, the numerous articles peculiar  |
|to the prosecution of the fishery, and  |
|the impossibility of replacing them at  |
|the remote harbors usually frequented,  |
|it must be remembered, that of all      |
|ships, whaling vessels are the most     |
|exposed to accidents of all kinds,      |
|and especially to the destruction and   |
|loss of the very things upon which the  |
|success of the voyage most depends.     |
|Hence, the spare boats, spare spars,    |
|and spare lines and harpoons, and spare |
|everythings, almost, but a spare Captain|
|and duplicate ship. At the period of    |
|our arrival at the Island, the heaviest |
|storage of the Pequod had been almost   |
|completed; comprising her beef, bread,  |
|water, fuel, and iron hoops and staves. |
|But, as before hinted, for some time    |
|there was a continual fetching and      |
|carrying on board of divers odds and    |
|ends of things, both large and small.   |
|Chief among those who did this fetching |
|and carrying was Captain Bildad's       |
|sister, a lean old lady of a most       |
|determined and indefatigable spirit,    |
|but withal very kindhearted, who seemed |
|resolved that, if SHE could help it,    |
|nothing should be found wanting in the  |
|Pequod, after once fairly getting to    |
|sea. At one time she would come on board|
|with a jar of pickles for the steward's |
|pantry; another time with a bunch of    |
|quills for the chief mate's desk, where |
|he kept his log; a third time with a    |
|roll of flannel for the small of some   |
|one's rheumatic back. Never did any     |
|woman better deserve her name, which    |
|was Charity--Aunt Charity, as everybody |
|called her. And like a sister of charity|
|did this charitable Aunt Charity bustle |
|about hither and thither, ready to turn |
|her hand and heart to anything that     |
|promised to yield safety, comfort, and  |
|consolation to all on board a ship in   |
|which her beloved brother Bildad was    |
|concerned, and in which she herself     |
|owned a score or two of well-saved      |
|dollars. But it was startling to see    |
|this excellent hearted Quakeress coming |
|on board, as she did the last day,      |
|with a long oil-ladle in one hand,      |
|and a still longer whaling lance in     |
|the other. Nor was Bildad himself nor   |
|Captain Peleg at all backward. As for   |
|Bildad, he carried about with him a     |
|long list of the articles needed, and   |
|at every fresh arrival, down went his   |
|mark opposite that article upon the     |
|paper. Every once in a while Peleg      |
|came hobbling out of his whalebone      |
|den, roaring at the men down the        |
|hatchways, roaring up to the riggers at |
|the mast-head, and then concluded by    |
|roaring back into his wigwam. During    |
|these days of preparation, Queequeg     |
|and I often visited the craft, and      |
|as often I asked about Captain Ahab,    |
|and how he was, and when he was going   |
|to come on board his ship. To these     |
|questions they would answer, that he    |
|was getting better and better, and was  |
|expected aboard every day; meantime,    |
|the two captains, Peleg and Bildad,     |
|could attend to everything necessary    |
|to fit the vessel for the voyage. If I  |
|had been downright honest with myself,  |
|I would have seen very plainly in my    |
|heart that I did but half fancy being   |
|committed this way to so long a voyage, |
|without once laying my eyes on the man  |
|who was to be the absolute dictator of  |
|it, so soon as the ship sailed out upon |
|the open sea. But when a man suspects   |
|any wrong, it sometimes happens that if |
|he be already involved in the matter,   |
|he insensibly strives to cover up his   |
|suspicions even from himself. And much  |
|this way it was with me. I said nothing,|
|and tried to think nothing. At last it  |
|was given out that some time next day   |
|the ship would certainly sail. So next  |
|morning, Queequeg and I took a very     |
|early start. It was nearly six o'clock, |
|but only grey imperfect misty dawn,     |
|when we drew nigh the wharf. "There     |
|are some sailors running ahead there,   |
|if I see right," said I to Queequeg,    |
|"it can't be shadows; she's off by      |
|sunrise, I guess; come on!" "Avast!"    |
|cried a voice, whose owner at the same  |
|time coming close behind us, laid a     |
|hand upon both our shoulders, and then  |
|insinuating himself between us, stood   |
|stooping forward a little, in the       |
|uncertain twilight, strangely peering   |
|from Queequeg to me. It was Elijah.     |
|"Going aboard?" "Hands off, will you,"  |
|said I. "Lookee here," said Queequeg,   |
|shaking himself, "go 'way!" "Ain't      |
|going aboard, then?" "Yes, we are,"     |
|said I, "but what business is that of   |
|yours? Do you know, Mr. Elijah, that    |
|I consider you a little impertinent?"   |
|"No, no, no; I wasn't aware of that,"   |
|said Elijah, slowly and wonderingly     |
|looking from me to Queequeg, with the   |
|most unaccountable glances. "Elijah,"   |
|said I, "you will oblige my friend and  |
|me by withdrawing. We are going to the  |
|Indian and Pacific Oceans, and would    |
|prefer not to be detained." "Ye be,     |
|be ye? Coming back afore breakfast?"    |
|"He's cracked, Queequeg," said I,       |
|"come on." "Holloa!" cried stationary   |
|Elijah, hailing us when we had removed  |
|a few paces. "Never mind him," said     |
|I, "Queequeg, come on." But he stole    |
|up to us again, and suddenly clapping   |
|his hand on my shoulder, said--"Did ye  |
|see anything looking like men going     |
|towards that ship a while ago?" Struck  |
|by this plain matter-of-fact question,  |
|I answered, saying, "Yes, I thought I   |
|did see four or five men; but it was    |
|too dim to be sure." "Very dim, very    |
|dim," said Elijah. "Morning to ye."     |
|Once more we quitted him; but once more |
|he came softly after us; and touching   |
|my shoulder again, said, "See if you    |
|can find 'em now, will ye? "Find        |
|who?" "Morning to ye! morning to ye!"   |
|he rejoined, again moving off. "Oh!     |
|I was going to warn ye against--but     |
|never mind, never mind--it's all one,   |
|all in the family too;--sharp frost     |
|this morning, ain't it? Good-bye to     |
|ye. Shan't see ye again very soon, I    |
|guess; unless it's before the Grand     |
|Jury." And with these cracked words he  |
|finally departed, leaving me, for the   |
|moment, in no small wonderment at his   |
|frantic impudence. At last, stepping on |
|board the Pequod, we found everything   |
|in profound quiet, not a soul moving.   |
|The cabin entrance was locked within;   |
|the hatches were all on, and lumbered   |
|with coils of rigging. Going forward to |
|the forecastle, we found the slide of   |
|the scuttle open. Seeing a light, we    |
|went down, and found only an old rigger |
|there, wrapped in a tattered pea-jacket.|
|He was thrown at whole length upon two  |
|chests, his face downwards and inclosed |
|in his folded arms. The profoundest     |
|slumber slept upon him. "Those sailors  |
|we saw, Queequeg, where can they have   |
|gone to?" said I, looking dubiously at  |
|the sleeper. But it seemed that, when   |
|on the wharf, Queequeg had not at all   |
|noticed what I now alluded to; hence    |
|I would have thought myself to have     |
|been optically deceived in that matter, |
|were it not for Elijah's otherwise      |
|inexplicable question. But I beat the   |
|thing down; and again marking the       |
|sleeper, jocularly hinted to Queequeg   |
|that perhaps we had best sit up with the|
|body; telling him to establish himself  |
|accordingly. He put his hand upon the   |
|sleeper's rear, as though feeling if    |
|it was soft enough; and then, without   |
|more ado, sat quietly down there.       |
|"Gracious! Queequeg, don't sit there,"  |
|said I. "Oh! perry dood seat," said     |
|Queequeg, "my country way; won't hurt   |
|him face." "Face!" said I, "call that   |
|his face? very benevolent countenance   |
|then; but how hard he breathes, he's    |
|heaving himself; get off, Queequeg,     |
|you are heavy, it's grinding the face   |
|of the poor. Get off, Queequeg! Look,   |
|he'll twitch you off soon. I wonder he  |
|don't wake." Queequeg removed himself   |
|to just beyond the head of the sleeper, |
|and lighted his tomahawk pipe. I sat    |
|at the feet. We kept the pipe passing   |
|over the sleeper, from one to the other.|
|Meanwhile, upon questioning him in his  |
|broken fashion, Queequeg gave me to     |
|understand that, in his land, owing     |
|to the absence of settees and sofas     |
|of all sorts, the king, chiefs, and     |
|great people generally, were in the     |
|custom of fattening some of the lower   |
|orders for ottomans; and to furnish     |
|a house comfortably in that respect,    |
|you had only to buy up eight or ten     |
|lazy fellows, and lay them round in     |
|the piers and alcoves. Besides, it was  |
|very convenient on an excursion; much   |
|better than those garden-chairs which   |
|are convertible into walking-sticks;    |
|upon occasion, a chief calling his      |
|attendant, and desiring him to make a   |
|settee of himself under a spreading     |
|tree, perhaps in some damp marshy place.|
|While narrating these things, every time|
|Queequeg received the tomahawk from me, |
|he flourished the hatchet-side of it    |
|over the sleeper's head. "What's that   |
|for, Queequeg?" "Perry easy, kill-e;    |
|oh! perry easy! He was going on with    |
|some wild reminiscences about his       |
|tomahawk-pipe, which, it seemed, had in |
|its two uses both brained his foes and  |
|soothed his soul, when we were directly |
|attracted to the sleeping rigger. The   |
|strong vapour now completely filling    |
|the contracted hole, it began to tell   |
|upon him. He breathed with a sort of    |
|muffledness; then seemed troubled in    |
|the nose; then revolved over once or    |
|twice; then sat up and rubbed his eyes. |
|"Holloa!" he breathed at last, "who be  |
|ye smokers?" "Shipped men," answered    |
|I, "when does she sail?" "Aye, aye,     |
|ye are going in her, be ye? She sails   |
|to-day. The Captain came aboard last    |
|night." "What Captain?--Ahab?" "Who but |
|him indeed?" I was going to ask him     |
|some further questions concerning Ahab, |
|when we heard a noise on deck. "Holloa! |
|Starbuck's astir," said the rigger.     |
|"He's a lively chief mate, that; good   |
|man, and a pious; but all alive now, I  |
|must turn to." And so saying he went on |
|deck, and we followed. It was now clear |
|sunrise. Soon the crew came on board in |
|twos and threes; the riggers bestirred  |
|themselves; the mates were actively     |
|engaged; and several of the shore people|
|were busy in bringing various last      |
|things on board. Meanwhile Captain Ahab |
|remained invisibly enshrined within     |
|his cabin. At length, towards noon,     |
|upon the final dismissal of the ship's  |
|riggers, and after the Pequod had been  |
|hauled out from the wharf, and after    |
|the ever-thoughtful Charity had come    |
|off in a whale-boat, with her last      |
|gift--a night-cap for Stubb, the second |
|mate, her brother-in-law, and a spare   |
|Bible for the steward--after all this,  |
|the two Captains, Peleg and Bildad,     |
|issued from the cabin, and turning to   |
|the chief mate, Peleg said: "Now, Mr.   |
|Starbuck, are you sure everything is    |
|right? Captain Ahab is all ready--just  |
|spoke to him--nothing more to be got    |
|from shore, eh? Well, call all hands,   |
|then. Muster 'em aft here--blast 'em!"  |
|"No need of profane words, however      |
|great the hurry, Peleg," said Bildad,   |
|"but away with thee, friend Starbuck,   |
|and do our bidding." How now! Here upon |
|the very point of starting for the      |
|voyage, Captain Peleg and Captain Bildad|
|were going it with a high hand on the   |
|quarter-deck, just as if they were to   |
|be joint-commanders at sea, as well as  |
|to all appearances in port. And, as for |
|Captain Ahab, no sign of him was yet    |
|to be seen; only, they said he was in   |
|the cabin. But then, the idea was, that |
|his presence was by no means necessary  |
|in getting the ship under weigh, and    |
|steering her well out to sea. Indeed,   |
|as that was not at all his proper       |
|business, but the pilot's; and as he was|
|not yet completely recovered--so they   |
|said--therefore, Captain Ahab stayed    |
|below. And all this seemed natural      |
|enough; especially as in the merchant   |
|service many captains never show        |
|themselves on deck for a considerable   |
|time after heaving up the anchor, but   |
|remain over the cabin table, having a   |
|farewell merry-making with their shore  |
|friends, before they quit the ship for  |
|good with the pilot. But there was not  |
|much chance to think over the matter,   |
|for Captain Peleg was now all alive. He |
|seemed to do most of the talking and    |
|commanding, and not Bildad. "Aft here,  |
|ye sons of bachelors," he cried, as the |
|sailors lingered at the main-mast. "Mr. |
|Starbuck, drive'em aft." "Strike the    |
|tent there!"--was the next order. As I  |
|hinted before, this whalebone marquee   |
|was never pitched except in port; and   |
|on board the Pequod, for thirty years,  |
|the order to strike the tent was well   |
|known to be the next thing to heaving up|
|the anchor. "Man the capstan! Blood and |
|thunder!--jump!"--was the next command, |
|and the crew sprang for the handspikes. |
|Now in getting under weigh, the station |
|generally occupied by the pilot is the  |
|forward part of the ship. And here      |
|Bildad, who, with Peleg, be it known, in|
|addition to his other officers, was one |
|of the licensed pilots of the port--he  |
|being suspected to have got himself made|
|a pilot in order to save the Nantucket  |
|pilot-fee to all the ships he was       |
|concerned in, for he never piloted any  |
|other craft--Bildad, I say, might now be|
|seen actively engaged in looking over   |
|the bows for the approaching anchor,    |
|and at intervals singing what seemed    |
|a dismal stave of psalmody, to cheer    |
|the hands at the windlass, who roared   |
|forth some sort of a chorus about the   |
|girls in Booble Alley, with hearty      |
|good will. Nevertheless, not three      |
|days previous, Bildad had told them     |
|that no profane songs would be allowed  |
|on board the Pequod, particularly in    |
|getting under weigh; and Charity, his   |
|sister, had placed a small choice       |
|copy of Watts in each seaman's berth.   |
|Meantime, overseeing the other part     |
|of the ship, Captain Peleg ripped and   |
|swore astern in the most frightful      |
|manner. I almost thought he would sink  |
|the ship before the anchor could be     |
|got up; involuntarily I paused on my    |
|handspike, and told Queequeg to do      |
|the same, thinking of the perils we     |
|both ran, in starting on the voyage     |
|with such a devil for a pilot. I was    |
|comforting myself, however, with the    |
|thought that in pious Bildad might be   |
|found some salvation, spite of his      |
|seven hundred and seventy-seventh lay;  |
|when I felt a sudden sharp poke in my   |
|rear, and turning round, was horrified  |
|at the apparition of Captain Peleg in   |
|the act of withdrawing his leg from my  |
|immediate vicinity. That was my first   |
|kick. "Is that the way they heave in the|
|marchant service?" he roared. "Spring,  |
|thou sheep-head; spring, and break thy  |
|backbone! Why don't ye spring, I say,   |
|all of ye--spring! Quohog! spring, thou |
|chap with the red whiskers; spring      |
|there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou green   |
|pants. Spring, I say, all of ye, and    |
|spring your eyes out!" And so saying,   |
|he moved along the windlass, here and   |
|there using his leg very freely, while  |
|imperturbable Bildad kept leading off   |
|with his psalmody. Thinks I, Captain    |
|Peleg must have been drinking something |
|to-day. At last the anchor was up, the  |
|sails were set, and off we glided. It   |
|was a short, cold Christmas; and as the |
|short northern day merged into night,   |
|we found ourselves almost broad upon    |
|the wintry ocean, whose freezing spray  |
|cased us in ice, as in polished armor.  |
|The long rows of teeth on the bulwarks  |
|glistened in the moonlight; and like the|
|white ivory tusks of some huge elephant,|
|vast curving icicles depended from the  |
|bows. Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the |
|first watch, and ever and anon, as the  |
|old craft deep dived into the green     |
|seas, and sent the shivering frost all  |
|over her, and the winds howled, and     |
|the cordage rang, his steady notes      |
|were heard,-- "Sweet fields beyond the  |
|swelling flood, Stand dressed in living |
|green. So to the Jews old Canaan stood, |
|While Jordan rolled between." Never did |
|those sweet words sound more sweetly to |
|me than then. They were full of hope and|
|fruition. Spite of this frigid winter   |
|night in the boisterous Atlantic, spite |
|of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there |
|was yet, it then seemed to me, many a   |
|pleasant haven in store; and meads and  |
|glades so eternally vernal, that the    |
|grass shot up by the spring, untrodden, |
|unwilted, remains at midsummer. At last |
|we gained such an offing, that the      |
|two pilots were needed no longer. The   |
|stout sail-boat that had accompanied us |
|began ranging alongside. It was curious |
|and not unpleasing, how Peleg and       |
|Bildad were affected at this juncture,  |
|especially Captain Bildad. For loath    |
|to depart, yet; very loath to leave,    |
|for good, a ship bound on so long and   |
|perilous a voyage--beyond both stormy   |
|Capes; a ship in which some thousands of|
|his hard earned dollars were invested;  |
|a ship, in which an old shipmate sailed |
|as captain; a man almost as old as he,  |
|once more starting to encounter all the |
|terrors of the pitiless jaw; loath to   |
|say good-bye to a thing so every way    |
|brimful of every interest to him,--poor |
|old Bildad lingered long; paced the deck|
|with anxious strides; ran down into the |
|cabin to speak another farewell word    |
|there; again came on deck, and looked   |
|to windward; looked towards the wide    |
|and endless waters, only bounded by     |
|the far-off unseen Eastern Continents;  |
|looked towards the land; looked         |
|aloft; looked right and left; looked    |
|everywhere and nowhere; and at last,    |
|mechanically coiling a rope upon its    |
|pin, convulsively grasped stout Peleg by|
|the hand, and holding up a lantern, for |
|a moment stood gazing heroically in his |
|face, as much as to say, "Nevertheless, |
|friend Peleg, I can stand it; yes, I    |
|can." As for Peleg himself, he took it  |
|more like a philosopher; but for all his|
|philosophy, there was a tear twinkling  |
|in his eye, when the lantern came too   |
|near. And he, too, did not a little run |
|from cabin to deck--now a word below,   |
|and now a word with Starbuck, the chief |
|mate. But, at last, he turned to his    |
|comrade, with a final sort of look      |
|about him,--"Captain Bildad--come, old  |
|shipmate, we must go. Back the main-yard|
|there! Boat ahoy! Stand by to come close|
|alongside, now! Careful, careful!--come,|
|Bildad, boy--say your last. Luck to ye, |
|Starbuck--luck to ye, Mr. Stubb--luck   |
|to ye, Mr. Flask--good-bye and good     |
|luck to ye all--and this day three      |
|years I'll have a hot supper smoking    |
|for ye in old Nantucket. Hurrah and     |
|away!" "God bless ye, and have ye in    |
|His holy keeping, men," murmured old    |
|Bildad, almost incoherently. "I hope    |
|ye'll have fine weather now, so that    |
|Captain Ahab may soon be moving among   |
|ye--a pleasant sun is all he needs,     |
|and ye'll have plenty of them in the    |
|tropic voyage ye go. Be careful in the  |
|hunt, ye mates. Don't stave the boats   |
|needlessly, ye harpooneers; good white  |
|cedar plank is raised full three per    |
|cent. within the year. Don't forget     |
|your prayers, either. Mr. Starbuck,     |
|mind that cooper don't waste the spare  |
|staves. Oh! the sail-needles are in the |
|green locker! Don't whale it too much   |
|a' Lord's days, men; but don't miss a   |
|fair chance either, that's rejecting    |
|Heaven's good gifts. Have an eye to the |
|molasses tierce, Mr. Stubb; it was a    |
|little leaky, I thought. If ye touch    |
|at the islands, Mr. Flask, beware of    |
|fornication. Good-bye, good-bye! Don't  |
|keep that cheese too long down in the   |
|hold, Mr. Starbuck; it'll spoil. Be     |
|careful with the butter--twenty cents   |
|the pound it was, and mind ye, if--"    |
|"Come, come, Captain Bildad; stop       |
|palavering,--away!" and with that,      |
|Peleg hurried him over the side, and    |
|both dropt into the boat. Ship and      |
|boat diverged; the cold, damp night     |
|breeze blew between; a screaming gull   |
|flew overhead; the two hulls wildly     |
|rolled; we gave three heavy-hearted     |
|cheers, and blindly plunged like fate   |
|into the lone Atlantic. Some chapters   |
|back, one Bulkington was spoken of, a   |
|tall, newlanded mariner, encountered    |
|in New Bedford at the inn. When on      |
|that shivering winter's night, the      |
|Pequod thrust her vindictive bows       |
|into the cold malicious waves, who      |
|should I see standing at her helm but   |
|Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic   |
|awe and fearfulness upon the man,       |
|who in mid-winter just landed from a    |
|four years' dangerous voyage, could     |
|so unrestingly push off again for       |
|still another tempestuous term. The     |
|land seemed scorching to his feet.      |
|Wonderfullest things are ever the       |
|unmentionable; deep memories yield no   |
|epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the  |
|stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let      |
|me only say that it fared with him      |
|as with the storm-tossed ship, that     |
|miserably drives along the leeward      |
|land. The port would fain give succor;  |
|the port is pitiful; in the port is     |
|safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper,   |
|warm blankets, friends, all that's      |
|kind to our mortalities. But in that    |
|gale, the port, the land, is that       |
|ship's direst jeopardy; she must fly    |
|all hospitality; one touch of land,     |
|though it but graze the keel, would     |
|make her shudder through and through.   |
|With all her might she crowds all sail  |
|off shore; in so doing, fights 'gainst  |
|the very winds that fain would blow her |
|homeward; seeks all the lashed sea's    |
|landlessness again; for refuge's sake   |
|forlornly rushing into peril; her only  |
|friend her bitterest foe! Know ye now,  |
|Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see  |
|of that mortally intolerable truth;     |
|that all deep, earnest thinking is but  |
|the intrepid effort of the soul to keep |
|the open independence of her sea; while |
|the wildest winds of heaven and earth   |
|conspire to cast her on the treacherous,|
|slavish shore? But as in landlessness   |
|alone resides highest truth, shoreless, |
|indefinite as God--so, better is it     |
|to perish in that howling infinite,     |
|than be ingloriously dashed upon the    |
|lee, even if that were safety! For      |
|worm-like, then, oh! who would craven   |
|crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! |
|is all this agony so vain? Take heart,  |
|take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee     |
|grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of   |
|thy ocean-perishing--straight up, leaps |
|thy apotheosis! As Queequeg and I are   |
|now fairly embarked in this business of |
|whaling; and as this business of whaling|
|has somehow come to be regarded among   |
|landsmen as a rather unpoetical and     |
|disreputable pursuit; therefore, I am   |
|all anxiety to convince ye, ye landsmen,|
|of the injustice hereby done to us      |
|hunters of whales. In the first place,  |
|it may be deemed almost superfluous to  |
|establish the fact, that among people   |
|at large, the business of whaling is    |
|not accounted on a level with what are  |
|called the liberal professions. If      |
|a stranger were introduced into any     |
|miscellaneous metropolitan society, it  |
|would but slightly advance the general  |
|opinion of his merits, were he presented|
|to the company as a harpooneer, say; and|
|if in emulation of the naval officers   |
|he should append the initials S.W.F.    |
|(Sperm Whale Fishery) to his visiting   |
|card, such a procedure would be deemed  |
|pre-eminently presuming and ridiculous. |
|Doubtless one leading reason why the    |
|world declines honouring us whalemen,   |
|is this: they think that, at best, our  |
|vocation amounts to a butchering sort   |
|of business; and that when actively     |
|engaged therein, we are surrounded by   |
|all manner of defilements. Butchers we  |
|are, that is true. But butchers, also,  |
|and butchers of the bloodiest badge have|
|been all Martial Commanders whom the    |
|world invariably delights to honour.    |
|And as for the matter of the alleged    |
|uncleanliness of our business, ye shall |
|soon be initiated into certain facts    |
|hitherto pretty generally unknown, and  |
|which, upon the whole, will triumphantly|
|plant the sperm whale-ship at least     |
|among the cleanliest things of this tidy|
|earth. But even granting the charge in  |
|question to be true; what disordered    |
|slippery decks of a whale-ship are      |
|comparable to the unspeakable carrion of|
|those battle-fields from which so many  |
|soldiers return to drink in all ladies' |
|plaudits? And if the idea of peril so   |
|much enhances the popular conceit of    |
|the soldier's profession; let me assure |
|ye that many a veteran who has freely   |
|marched up to a battery, would quickly  |
|recoil at the apparition of the sperm   |
|whale's vast tail, fanning into eddies  |
|the air over his head. For what are the |
|comprehensible terrors of man compared  |
|with the interlinked terrors and        |
|wonders of God! But, though the world   |
|scouts at us whale hunters, yet does    |
|it unwittingly pay us the profoundest   |
|homage; yea, an all-abounding adoration!|
|for almost all the tapers, lamps, and   |
|candles that burn round the globe,      |
|burn, as before so many shrines, to our |
|glory! But look at this matter in other |
|lights; weigh it in all sorts of scales;|
|see what we whalemen are, and have      |
|been. Why did the Dutch in De Witt's    |
|time have admirals of their whaling     |
|fleets? Why did Louis XVI. of France,   |
|at his own personal expense, fit out    |
|whaling ships from Dunkirk, and politely|
|invite to that town some score or two   |
|of families from our own island of      |
|Nantucket? Why did Britain between the  |
|years 1750 and 1788 pay to her whalemen |
|in bounties upwards of L1,000,000? And  |
|lastly, how comes it that we whalemen   |
|of America now outnumber all the rest   |
|of the banded whalemen in the world;    |
|sail a navy of upwards of seven hundred |
|vessels; manned by eighteen thousand    |
|men; yearly consuming 4,000,000 of      |
|dollars; the ships worth, at the time   |
|of sailing, $20,000,000! and every      |
|year importing into our harbors a well  |
|reaped harvest of $7,000,000. How comes |
|all this, if there be not something     |
|puissant in whaling? But this is not    |
|the half; look again. I freely assert,  |
|that the cosmopolite philosopher        |
|cannot, for his life, point out one     |
|single peaceful influence, which within |
|the last sixty years has operated       |
|more potentially upon the whole broad   |
|world, taken in one aggregate, than the |
|high and mighty business of whaling.    |
|One way and another, it has begotten    |
|events so remarkable in themselves,     |
|and so continuously momentous in their  |
|sequential issues, that whaling may     |
|well be regarded as that Egyptian       |
|mother, who bore offspring themselves   |
|pregnant from her womb. It would be a   |
|hopeless, endless task to catalogue all |
|these things. Let a handful suffice.    |
|For many years past the whale-ship      |
|has been the pioneer in ferreting out   |
|the remotest and least known parts of   |
|the earth. She has explored seas and    |
|archipelagoes which had no chart, where |
|no Cook or Vancouver had ever sailed.   |
|If American and European men-of-war now |
|peacefully ride in once savage harbors, |
|let them fire salutes to the honour     |
|and glory of the whale-ship, which      |
|originally showed them the way, and     |
|first interpreted between them and the  |
|savages. They may celebrate as they will|
|the heroes of Exploring Expeditions,    |
|your Cooks, your Krusensterns; but I    |
|say that scores of anonymous Captains   |
|have sailed out of Nantucket, that were |
|as great, and greater than your Cook    |
|and your Krusenstern. For in their      |
|succourless empty-handedness, they,     |
|in the heathenish sharked waters, and   |
|by the beaches of unrecorded, javelin   |
|islands, battled with virgin wonders    |
|and terrors that Cook with all his      |
|marines and muskets would not willingly |
|have dared. All that is made such       |
|a flourish of in the old South Sea      |
|Voyages, those things were but the      |
|life-time commonplaces of our heroic    |
|Nantucketers. Often, adventures which   |
|Vancouver dedicates three chapters to,  |
|these men accounted unworthy of being   |
|set down in the ship's common log. Ah,  |
|the world! Oh, the world! Until the     |
|whale fishery rounded Cape Horn, no     |
|commerce but colonial, scarcely any     |
|intercourse but colonial, was carried on|
|between Europe and the long line of the |
|opulent Spanish provinces on the Pacific|
|coast. It was the whaleman who first    |
|broke through the jealous policy of the |
|Spanish crown, touching those colonies; |
|and, if space permitted, it might be    |
|distinctly shown how from those whalemen|
|at last eventuated the liberation of    |
|Peru, Chili, and Bolivia from the yoke  |
|of Old Spain, and the establishment of  |
|the eternal democracy in those parts.   |
|That great America on the other side    |
|of the sphere, Australia, was given to  |
|the enlightened world by the whaleman.  |
|After its first blunder-born discovery  |
|by a Dutchman, all other ships long     |
|shunned those shores as pestiferously   |
|barbarous; but the whale-ship touched   |
|there. The whale-ship is the true mother|
|of that now mighty colony. Moreover,    |
|in the infancy of the first Australian  |
|settlement, the emigrants were several  |
|times saved from starvation by the      |
|benevolent biscuit of the whale-ship    |
|luckily dropping an anchor in their     |
|waters. The uncounted isles of all      |
|Polynesia confess the same truth, and   |
|do commercial homage to the whale-ship, |
|that cleared the way for the missionary |
|and the merchant, and in many cases     |
|carried the primitive missionaries      |
|to their first destinations. If that    |
|double-bolted land, Japan, is ever to   |
|become hospitable, it is the whale-ship |
|alone to whom the credit will be due;   |
|for already she is on the threshold.    |
|But if, in the face of all this,        |
|you still declare that whaling has      |
|no aesthetically noble associations     |
|connected with it, then am I ready to   |
|shiver fifty lances with you there, and |
|unhorse you with a split helmet every   |
|time. The whale has no famous author,   |
|and whaling no famous chronicler, you   |
|will say. THE WHALE NO FAMOUS AUTHOR,   |
|AND WHALING NO FAMOUS CHRONICLER?       |
|Who wrote the first account of our      |
|Leviathan? Who but mighty Job! And      |
|who composed the first narrative of     |
|a whaling-voyage? Who, but no less a    |
|prince than Alfred the Great, who, with |
|his own royal pen, took down the words  |
|from Other, the Norwegian whale-hunter  |
|of those times! And who pronounced our  |
|glowing eulogy in Parliament? Who, but  |
|Edmund Burke! True enough, but then     |
|whalemen themselves are poor devils;    |
|they have no good blood in their veins. |
|NO GOOD BLOOD IN THEIR VEINS? They have |
|something better than royal blood there.|
|The grandmother of Benjamin Franklin was|
|Mary Morrel; afterwards, by marriage,   |
|Mary Folger, one of the old settlers of |
|Nantucket, and the ancestress to a long |
|line of Folgers and harpooneers--all    |
|kith and kin to noble Benjamin--this    |
|day darting the barbed iron from one    |
|side of the world to the other. Good    |
|again; but then all confess that somehow|
|whaling is not respectable. WHALING NOT |
|RESPECTABLE? Whaling is imperial! By    |
|old English statutory law, the whale is |
|declared "a royal fish."* Oh, that's    |
|only nominal! The whale himself has     |
|never figured in any grand imposing     |
|way. THE WHALE NEVER FIGURED IN ANY     |
|GRAND IMPOSING WAY? In one of the mighty|
|triumphs given to a Roman general upon  |
|his entering the world's capital, the   |
|bones of a whale, brought all the way   |
|from the Syrian coast, were the most    |
|conspicuous object in the cymballed     |
|procession. Grant it, since you cite    |
|it; but, say what you will, there is    |
|no real dignity in whaling. NO DIGNITY  |
|IN WHALING? The dignity of our calling  |
|the very heavens attest. Cetus is a     |
|constellation in the South! No more!    |
|Drive down your hat in presence of the  |
|Czar, and take it off to Queequeg!      |
|No more! I know a man that, in his      |
|lifetime, has taken three hundred and   |
|fifty whales. I account that man more   |
|honourable than that great captain of   |
|antiquity who boasted of taking as many |
|walled towns. And, as for me, if, by    |
|any possibility, there be any as yet    |
|undiscovered prime thing in me; if I    |
|shall ever deserve any real repute in   |
|that small but high hushed world which I|
|might not be unreasonably ambitious of; |
|if hereafter I shall do anything that,  |
|upon the whole, a man might rather have |
|done than to have left undone; if, at my|
|death, my executors, or more properly   |
|my creditors, find any precious MSS.    |
|in my desk, then here I prospectively   |
|ascribe all the honour and the glory to |
|whaling; for a whale-ship was my Yale   |
|College and my Harvard. In behalf of    |
|the dignity of whaling, I would fain    |
|advance naught but substantiated facts. |
|But after embattling his facts, an      |
|advocate who should wholly suppress a   |
|not unreasonable surmise, which might   |
|tell eloquently upon his cause--such an |
|advocate, would he not be blameworthy?  |
|It is well known that at the coronation |
|of kings and queens, even modern        |
|ones, a certain curious process of      |
|seasoning them for their functions is   |
|gone through. There is a saltcellar     |
|of state, so called, and there may be   |
|a castor of state. How they use the     |
|salt, precisely--who knows? Certain     |
|I am, however, that a king's head is    |
|solemnly oiled at his coronation,       |
|even as a head of salad. Can it be,     |
|though, that they anoint it with a view |
|of making its interior run well, as     |
|they anoint machinery? Much might be    |
|ruminated here, concerning the essential|
|dignity of this regal process, because  |
|in common life we esteem but meanly     |
|and contemptibly a fellow who anoints   |
|his hair, and palpably smells of that   |
|anointing. In truth, a mature man who   |
|uses hair-oil, unless medicinally, that |
|man has probably got a quoggy spot in   |
|him somewhere. As a general rule, he    |
|can't amount to much in his totality.   |
|But the only thing to be considered     |
|here, is this--what kind of oil is used |
|at coronations? Certainly it cannot be  |
|olive oil, nor macassar oil, nor castor |
|oil, nor bear's oil, nor train oil, nor |
|cod-liver oil. What then can it possibly|
|be, but sperm oil in its unmanufactured,|
|unpolluted state, the sweetest of all   |
|oils? Think of that, ye loyal Britons!  |
|we whalemen supply your kings and queens|
|with coronation stuff! The chief mate   |
|of the Pequod was Starbuck, a native of |
|Nantucket, and a Quaker by descent. He  |
|was a long, earnest man, and though born|
|on an icy coast, seemed well adapted to |
|endure hot latitudes, his flesh being   |
|hard as twice-baked biscuit. Transported|
|to the Indies, his live blood would     |
|not spoil like bottled ale. He must     |
|have been born in some time of general  |
|drought and famine, or upon one of      |
|those fast days for which his state is  |
|famous. Only some thirty arid summers   |
|had he seen; those summers had dried up |
|all his physical superfluousness. But   |
|this, his thinness, so to speak, seemed |
|no more the token of wasting anxieties  |
|and cares, than it seemed the indication|
|of any bodily blight. It was merely the |
|condensation of the man. He was by no   |
|means ill-looking; quite the contrary.  |
|His pure tight skin was an excellent    |
|fit; and closely wrapped up in it, and  |
|embalmed with inner health and strength,|
|like a revivified Egyptian, this        |
|Starbuck seemed prepared to endure for  |
|long ages to come, and to endure always,|
|as now; for be it Polar snow or torrid  |
|sun, like a patent chronometer, his     |
|interior vitality was warranted to do   |
|well in all climates. Looking into his  |
|eyes, you seemed to see there the yet   |
|lingering images of those thousand-fold |
|perils he had calmly confronted through |
|life. A staid, steadfast man, whose     |
|life for the most part was a telling    |
|pantomime of action, and not a tame     |
|chapter of sounds. Yet, for all his     |
|hardy sobriety and fortitude, there     |
|were certain qualities in him which     |
|at times affected, and in some cases    |
|seemed well nigh to overbalance all the |
|rest. Uncommonly conscientious for a    |
|seaman, and endued with a deep natural  |
|reverence, the wild watery loneliness   |
|of his life did therefore strongly      |
|incline him to superstition; but to that|
|sort of superstition, which in some     |
|organizations seems rather to spring,   |
|somehow, from intelligence than from    |
|ignorance. Outward portents and inward  |
|presentiments were his. And if at times |
|these things bent the welded iron of    |
|his soul, much more did his far-away    |
|domestic memories of his young Cape     |
|wife and child, tend to bend him still  |
|more from the original ruggedness of    |
|his nature, and open him still further  |
|to those latent influences which, in    |
|some honest-hearted men, restrain the   |
|gush of dare-devil daring, so often     |
|evinced by others in the more perilous  |
|vicissitudes of the fishery. "I will    |
|have no man in my boat," said Starbuck, |
|"who is not afraid of a whale." By      |
|this, he seemed to mean, not only that  |
|the most reliable and useful courage    |
|was that which arises from the fair     |
|estimation of the encountered peril,    |
|but that an utterly fearless man is     |
|a far more dangerous comrade than a     |
|coward. "Aye, aye," said Stubb, the     |
|second mate, "Starbuck, there, is as    |
|careful a man as you'll find anywhere   |
|in this fishery." But we shall ere long |
|see what that word "careful" precisely  |
|means when used by a man like Stubb, or |
|almost any other whale hunter. Starbuck |
|was no crusader after perils; in him    |
|courage was not a sentiment; but a thing|
|simply useful to him, and always at hand|
|upon all mortally practical occasions.  |
|Besides, he thought, perhaps, that in   |
|this business of whaling, courage was   |
|one of the great staple outfits of the  |
|ship, like her beef and her bread, and  |
|not to be foolishly wasted. Wherefore   |
|he had no fancy for lowering for whales |
|after sun-down; nor for persisting in   |
|fighting a fish that too much persisted |
|in fighting him. For, thought Starbuck, |
|I am here in this critical ocean to     |
|kill whales for my living, and not to   |
|be killed by them for theirs; and that  |
|hundreds of men had been so killed      |
|Starbuck well knew. What doom was his   |
|own father's? Where, in the bottomless  |
|deeps, could he find the torn limbs of  |
|his brother? With memories like these in|
|him, and, moreover, given to a certain  |
|superstitiousness, as has been said;    |
|the courage of this Starbuck which      |
|could, nevertheless, still flourish,    |
|must indeed have been extreme. But it   |
|was not in reasonable nature that a man |
|so organized, and with such terrible    |
|experiences and remembrances as he had; |
|it was not in nature that these things  |
|should fail in latently engendering an  |
|element in him, which, under suitable   |
|circumstances, would break out from its |
|confinement, and burn all his courage   |
|up. And brave as he might be, it was    |
|that sort of bravery chiefly, visible   |
|in some intrepid men, which, while      |
|generally abiding firm in the conflict  |
|with seas, or winds, or whales, or any  |
|of the ordinary irrational horrors of   |
|the world, yet cannot withstand those   |
|more terrific, because more spiritual   |
|terrors, which sometimes menace you from|
|the concentrating brow of an enraged    |
|and mighty man. But were the coming     |
|narrative to reveal in any instance, the|
|complete abasement of poor Starbuck's   |
|fortitude, scarce might I have the heart|
|to write it; for it is a thing most     |
|sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose the  |
|fall of valour in the soul. Men may seem|
|detestable as joint stock-companies and |
|nations; knaves, fools, and murderers   |
|there may be; men may have mean and     |
|meagre faces; but man, in the ideal,    |
|is so noble and so sparkling, such      |
|a grand and glowing creature, that      |
|over any ignominious blemish in him     |
|all his fellows should run to throw     |
|their costliest robes. That immaculate  |
|manliness we feel within ourselves, so  |
|far within us, that it remains intact   |
|though all the outer character seem     |
|gone; bleeds with keenest anguish at the|
|undraped spectacle of a valor-ruined    |
|man. Nor can piety itself, at such a    |
|shameful sight, completely stifle her   |
|upbraidings against the permitting      |
|stars. But this august dignity I treat  |
|of, is not the dignity of kings and     |
|robes, but that abounding dignity       |
|which has no robed investiture. Thou    |
|shalt see it shining in the arm that    |
|wields a pick or drives a spike; that   |
|democratic dignity which, on all hands, |
|radiates without end from God; Himself! |
|The great God absolute! The centre and  |
|circumference of all democracy! His     |
|omnipresence, our divine equality! If,  |
|then, to meanest mariners, and renegades|
|and castaways, I shall hereafter ascribe|
|high qualities, though dark; weave round|
|them tragic graces; if even the most    |
|mournful, perchance the most abased,    |
|among them all, shall at times lift     |
|himself to the exalted mounts; if I     |
|shall touch that workman's arm with some|
|ethereal light; if I shall spread a     |
|rainbow over his disastrous set of sun; |
|then against all mortal critics bear me |
|out in it, thou Just Spirit of Equality,|
|which hast spread one royal mantle of   |
|humanity over all my kind! Bear me out  |
|in it, thou great democratic God! who   |
|didst not refuse to the swart convict,  |
|Bunyan, the pale, poetic pearl; Thou    |
|who didst clothe with doubly hammered   |
|leaves of finest gold, the stumped and  |
|paupered arm of old Cervantes; Thou     |
|who didst pick up Andrew Jackson from   |
|the pebbles; who didst hurl him upon a  |
|war-horse; who didst thunder him higher |
|than a throne! Thou who, in all Thy     |
|mighty, earthly marchings, ever cullest |
|Thy selectest champions from the kingly |
|commons; bear me out in it, O God! Stubb|
|was the second mate. He was a native    |
|of Cape Cod; and hence, according to    |
|local usage, was called a Cape-Cod-man. |
|A happy-go-lucky; neither craven nor    |
|valiant; taking perils as they came with|
|an indifferent air; and while engaged in|
|the most imminent crisis of the chase,  |
|toiling away, calm and collected as a   |
|journeyman joiner engaged for the year. |
|Good-humored, easy, and careless, he    |
|presided over his whale-boat as if the  |
|most deadly encounter were but a dinner,|
|and his crew all invited guests. He was |
|as particular about the comfortable     |
|arrangement of his part of the boat,    |
|as an old stage-driver is about the     |
|snugness of his box. When close to the  |
|whale, in the very death-lock of the    |
|fight, he handled his unpitying lance   |
|coolly and off-handedly, as a whistling |
|tinker his hammer. He would hum over his|
|old rigadig tunes while flank and flank |
|with the most exasperated monster. Long |
|usage had, for this Stubb, converted    |
|the jaws of death into an easy chair.   |
|What he thought of death itself, there  |
|is no telling. Whether he ever thought  |
|of it at all, might be a question; but, |
|if he ever did chance to cast his mind  |
|that way after a comfortable dinner,    |
|no doubt, like a good sailor, he took   |
|it to be a sort of call of the watch    |
|to tumble aloft, and bestir themselves  |
|there, about something which he would   |
|find out when he obeyed the order, and  |
|not sooner. What, perhaps, with other   |
|things, made Stubb such an easy-going,  |
|unfearing man, so cheerily trudging     |
|off with the burden of life in a world  |
|full of grave pedlars, all bowed to the |
|ground with their packs; what helped    |
|to bring about that almost impious      |
|good-humor of his; that thing must have |
|been his pipe. For, like his nose, his  |
|short, black little pipe was one of     |
|the regular features of his face. You   |
|would almost as soon have expected him  |
|to turn out of his bunk without his     |
|nose as without his pipe. He kept a     |
|whole row of pipes there ready loaded,  |
|stuck in a rack, within easy reach of   |
|his hand; and, whenever he turned in,   |
|he smoked them all out in succession,   |
|lighting one from the other to the      |
|end of the chapter; then loading them   |
|again to be in readiness anew. For,     |
|when Stubb dressed, instead of first    |
|putting his legs into his trowsers,     |
|he put his pipe into his mouth. I say   |
|this continual smoking must have been   |
|one cause, at least, of his peculiar    |
|disposition; for every one knows that   |
|this earthly air, whether ashore or     |
|afloat, is terribly infected with the   |
|nameless miseries of the numberless     |
|mortals who have died exhaling it; and  |
|as in time of the cholera, some people  |
|go about with a camphorated handkerchief|
|to their mouths; so, likewise, against  |
|all mortal tribulations, Stubb's        |
|tobacco smoke might have operated as a  |
|sort of disinfecting agent. The third   |
|mate was Flask, a native of Tisbury,    |
|in Martha's Vineyard. A short, stout,   |
|ruddy young fellow, very pugnacious     |
|concerning whales, who somehow seemed   |
|to think that the great leviathans had  |
|personally and hereditarily affronted   |
|him; and therefore it was a sort of     |
|point of honour with him, to destroy    |
|them whenever encountered. So utterly   |
|lost was he to all sense of reverence   |
|for the many marvels of their majestic  |
|bulk and mystic ways; and so dead to    |
|anything like an apprehension of any    |
|possible danger from encountering them; |
|that in his poor opinion, the wondrous  |
|whale was but a species of magnified    |
|mouse, or at least water-rat, requiring |
|only a little circumvention and some    |
|small application of time and trouble in|
|order to kill and boil. This ignorant,  |
|unconscious fearlessness of his made    |
|him a little waggish in the matter of   |
|whales; he followed these fish for the  |
|fun of it; and a three years' voyage    |
|round Cape Horn was only a jolly joke   |
|that lasted that length of time. As     |
|a carpenter's nails are divided into    |
|wrought nails and cut nails; so mankind |
|may be similarly divided. Little Flask  |
|was one of the wrought ones; made to    |
|clinch tight and last long. They called |
|him King-Post on board of the Pequod;   |
|because, in form, he could be well      |
|likened to the short, square timber     |
|known by that name in Arctic whalers;   |
|and which by the means of many radiating|
|side timbers inserted into it, serves   |
|to brace the ship against the icy       |
|concussions of those battering seas. Now|
|these three mates--Starbuck, Stubb, and |
|Flask, were momentous men. They it was  |
|who by universal prescription commanded |
|three of the Pequod's boats as headsmen.|
|In that grand order of battle in which  |
|Captain Ahab would probably marshal his |
|forces to descend on the whales, these  |
|three headsmen were as captains of      |
|companies. Or, being armed with their   |
|long keen whaling spears, they were as  |
|a picked trio of lancers; even as the   |
|harpooneers were flingers of javelins.  |
|And since in this famous fishery, each  |
|mate or headsman, like a Gothic Knight  |
|of old, is always accompanied by his    |
|boat-steerer or harpooneer, who in      |
|certain conjunctures provides him with  |
|a fresh lance, when the former one      |
|has been badly twisted, or elbowed in   |
|the assault; and moreover, as there     |
|generally subsists between the two, a   |
|close intimacy and friendliness; it     |
|is therefore but meet, that in this     |
|place we set down who the Pequod's      |
|harpooneers were, and to what headsman  |
|each of them belonged. First of all     |
|was Queequeg, whom Starbuck, the chief  |
|mate, had selected for his squire. But  |
|Queequeg is already known. Next was     |
|Tashtego, an unmixed Indian from Gay    |
|Head, the most westerly promontory of   |
|Martha's Vineyard, where there still    |
|exists the last remnant of a village of |
|red men, which has long supplied the    |
|neighboring island of Nantucket with    |
|many of her most daring harpooneers.    |
|In the fishery, they usually go by the  |
|generic name of Gay-Headers. Tashtego's |
|long, lean, sable hair, his high cheek  |
|bones, and black rounding eyes--for an  |
|Indian, Oriental in their largeness,    |
|but Antarctic in their glittering       |
|expression--all this sufficiently       |
|proclaimed him an inheritor of the      |
|unvitiated blood of those proud warrior |
|hunters, who, in quest of the great New |
|England moose, had scoured, bow in hand,|
|the aboriginal forests of the main.     |
|But no longer snuffing in the trail     |
|of the wild beasts of the woodland,     |
|Tashtego now hunted in the wake of the  |
|great whales of the sea; the unerring   |
|harpoon of the son fitly replacing the  |
|infallible arrow of the sires. To look  |
|at the tawny brawn of his lithe snaky   |
|limbs, you would almost have credited   |
|the superstitions of some of the earlier|
|Puritans, and half-believed this wild   |
|Indian to be a son of the Prince of the |
|Powers of the Air. Tashtego was Stubb   |
|the second mate's squire. Third among   |
|the harpooneers was Daggoo, a gigantic, |
|coal-black negro-savage, with a         |
|lion-like tread--an Ahasuerus to behold.|
|Suspended from his ears were two golden |
|hoops, so large that the sailors called |
|them ring-bolts, and would talk of      |
|securing the top-sail halyards to them. |
|In his youth Daggoo had voluntarily     |
|shipped on board of a whaler, lying in  |
|a lonely bay on his native coast. And   |
|never having been anywhere in the world |
|but in Africa, Nantucket, and the pagan |
|harbors most frequented by whalemen;    |
|and having now led for many years the   |
|bold life of the fishery in the ships   |
|of owners uncommonly heedful of what    |
|manner of men they shipped; Daggoo      |
|retained all his barbaric virtues, and  |
|erect as a giraffe, moved about the     |
|decks in all the pomp of six feet five  |
|in his socks. There was a corporeal     |
|humility in looking up at him; and a    |
|white man standing before him seemed    |
|a white flag come to beg truce of a     |
|fortress. Curious to tell, this imperial|
|negro, Ahasuerus Daggoo, was the Squire |
|of little Flask, who looked like a      |
|chess-man beside him. As for the residue|
|of the Pequod's company, be it said,    |
|that at the present day not one in two  |
|of the many thousand men before the mast|
|employed in the American whale fishery, |
|are Americans born, though pretty nearly|
|all the officers are. Herein it is the  |
|same with the American whale fishery as |
|with the American army and military and |
|merchant navies, and the engineering    |
|forces employed in the construction of  |
|the American Canals and Railroads. The  |
|same, I say, because in all these cases |
|the native American liberally provides  |
|the brains, the rest of the world as    |
|generously supplying the muscles. No    |
|small number of these whaling seamen    |
|belong to the Azores, where the outward |
|bound Nantucket whalers frequently      |
|touch to augment their crews from the   |
|hardy peasants of those rocky shores.   |
|In like manner, the Greenland whalers   |
|sailing out of Hull or London, put in   |
|at the Shetland Islands, to receive     |
|the full complement of their crew.      |
|Upon the passage homewards, they drop   |
|them there again. How it is, there is   |
|no telling, but Islanders seem to make  |
|the best whalemen. They were nearly     |
|all Islanders in the Pequod, ISOLATOES  |
|too, I call such, not acknowledging     |
|the common continent of men, but each   |
|ISOLATO living on a separate continent  |
|of his own. Yet now, federated along    |
|one keel, what a set these Isolatoes    |
|were! An Anacharsis Clootz deputation   |
|from all the isles of the sea, and all  |
|the ends of the earth, accompanying Old |
|Ahab in the Pequod to lay the world's   |
|grievances before that bar from which   |
|not very many of them ever come back.   |
|Black Little Pip--he never did--oh,     |
|no! he went before. Poor Alabama boy!   |
|On the grim Pequod's forecastle, ye     |
|shall ere long see him, beating his     |
|tambourine; prelusive of the eternal    |
|time, when sent for, to the great       |
|quarter-deck on high, he was bid strike |
|in with angels, and beat his tambourine |
|in glory; called a coward here, hailed  |
|a hero there! For several days after    |
|leaving Nantucket, nothing above hatches|
|was seen of Captain Ahab. The mates     |
|regularly relieved each other at the    |
|watches, and for aught that could be    |
|seen to the contrary, they seemed to be |
|the only commanders of the ship; only   |
|they sometimes issued from the cabin    |
|with orders so sudden and peremptory,   |
|that after all it was plain they but    |
|commanded vicariously. Yes, their       |
|supreme lord and dictator was there,    |
|though hitherto unseen by any eyes not  |
|permitted to penetrate into the now     |
|sacred retreat of the cabin. Every time |
|I ascended to the deck from my watches  |
|below, I instantly gazed aft to mark if |
|any strange face were visible; for my   |
|first vague disquietude touching the    |
|unknown captain, now in the seclusion of|
|the sea, became almost a perturbation.  |
|This was strangely heightened at times  |
|by the ragged Elijah's diabolical       |
|incoherences uninvitedly recurring to   |
|me, with a subtle energy I could not    |
|have before conceived of. But poorly    |
|could I withstand them, much as in      |
|other moods I was almost ready to smile |
|at the solemn whimsicalities of that    |
|outlandish prophet of the wharves. But  |
|whatever it was of apprehensiveness     |
|or uneasiness--to call it so--which I   |
|felt, yet whenever I came to look about |
|me in the ship, it seemed against all   |
|warrantry to cherish such emotions.     |
|For though the harpooneers, with the    |
|great body of the crew, were a far      |
|more barbaric, heathenish, and motley   |
|set than any of the tame merchant-ship  |
|companies which my previous experiences |
|had made me acquainted with, still I    |
|ascribed this--and rightly ascribed     |
|it--to the fierce uniqueness of the     |
|very nature of that wild Scandinavian   |
|vocation in which I had so abandonedly  |
|embarked. But it was especially the     |
|aspect of the three chief officers of   |
|the ship, the mates, which was most     |
|forcibly calculated to allay these      |
|colourless misgivings, and induce       |
|confidence and cheerfulness in every    |
|presentment of the voyage. Three better,|
|more likely sea-officers and men, each  |
|in his own different way, could not     |
|readily be found, and they were every   |
|one of them Americans; a Nantucketer, a |
|Vineyarder, a Cape man. Now, it being   |
|Christmas when the ship shot from out   |
|her harbor, for a space we had biting   |
|Polar weather, though all the time      |
|running away from it to the southward;  |
|and by every degree and minute of       |
|latitude which we sailed, gradually     |
|leaving that merciless winter, and all  |
|its intolerable weather behind us. It   |
|was one of those less lowering, but     |
|still grey and gloomy enough mornings   |
|of the transition, when with a fair     |
|wind the ship was rushing through the   |
|water with a vindictive sort of leaping |
|and melancholy rapidity, that as I      |
|mounted to the deck at the call of the  |
|forenoon watch, so soon as I levelled my|
|glance towards the taffrail, foreboding |
|shivers ran over me. Reality outran     |
|apprehension; Captain Ahab stood upon   |
|his quarter-deck. There seemed no sign  |
|of common bodily illness about him, nor |
|of the recovery from any. He looked like|
|a man cut away from the stake, when the |
|fire has overrunningly wasted all the   |
|limbs without consuming them, or taking |
|away one particle from their compacted  |
|aged robustness. His whole high, broad  |
|form, seemed made of solid bronze, and  |
|shaped in an unalterable mould, like    |
|Cellini's cast Perseus. Threading its   |
|way out from among his grey hairs, and  |
|continuing right down one side of his   |
|tawny scorched face and neck, till it   |
|disappeared in his clothing, you saw a  |
|slender rod-like mark, lividly whitish. |
|It resembled that perpendicular seam    |
|sometimes made in the straight, lofty   |
|trunk of a great tree, when the upper   |
|lightning tearingly darts down it, and  |
|without wrenching a single twig, peels  |
|and grooves out the bark from top to    |
|bottom, ere running off into the soil,  |
|leaving the tree still greenly alive,   |
|but branded. Whether that mark was      |
|born with him, or whether it was the    |
|scar left by some desperate wound, no   |
|one could certainly say. By some tacit  |
|consent, throughout the voyage little or|
|no allusion was made to it, especially  |
|by the mates. But once Tashtego's       |
|senior, an old Gay-Head Indian among the|
|crew, superstitiously asserted that not |
|till he was full forty years old did    |
|Ahab become that way branded, and then  |
|it came upon him, not in the fury of any|
|mortal fray, but in an elemental strife |
|at sea. Yet, this wild hint seemed      |
|inferentially negatived, by what a grey |
|Manxman insinuated, an old sepulchral   |
|man, who, having never before sailed    |
|out of Nantucket, had never ere this    |
|laid eye upon wild Ahab. Nevertheless,  |
|the old sea-traditions, the immemorial  |
|credulities, popularly invested this    |
|old Manxman with preternatural powers   |
|of discernment. So that no white sailor |
|seriously contradicted him when he said |
|that if ever Captain Ahab should be     |
|tranquilly laid out--which might hardly |
|come to pass, so he muttered--then,     |
|whoever should do that last office for  |
|the dead, would find a birth-mark on him|
|from crown to sole. So powerfully did   |
|the whole grim aspect of Ahab affect    |
|me, and the livid brand which streaked  |
|it, that for the first few moments I    |
|hardly noted that not a little of this  |
|overbearing grimness was owing to the   |
|barbaric white leg upon which he partly |
|stood. It had previously come to me that|
|this ivory leg had at sea been fashioned|
|from the polished bone of the sperm     |
|whale's jaw. "Aye, he was dismasted off |
|Japan," said the old Gay-Head Indian    |
|once; "but like his dismasted craft,    |
|he shipped another mast without coming  |
|home for it. He has a quiver of 'em."   |
|I was struck with the singular posture  |
|he maintained. Upon each side of the    |
|Pequod's quarter deck, and pretty close |
|to the mizzen shrouds, there was an     |
|auger hole, bored about half an inch    |
|or so, into the plank. His bone leg     |
|steadied in that hole; one arm elevated,|
|and holding by a shroud; Captain Ahab   |
|stood erect, looking straight out beyond|
|the ship's ever-pitching prow. There    |
|was an infinity of firmest fortitude, a |
|determinate, unsurrenderable wilfulness,|
|in the fixed and fearless, forward      |
|dedication of that glance. Not a word he|
|spoke; nor did his officers say aught   |
|to him; though by all their minutest    |
|gestures and expressions, they plainly  |
|showed the uneasy, if not painful,      |
|consciousness of being under a troubled |
|master-eye. And not only that, but      |
|moody stricken Ahab stood before them   |
|with a crucifixion in his face; in all  |
|the nameless regal overbearing dignity  |
|of some mighty woe. Ere long, from his  |
|first visit in the air, he withdrew     |
|into his cabin. But after that morning, |
|he was every day visible to the crew;   |
|either standing in his pivot-hole, or   |
|seated upon an ivory stool he had; or   |
|heavily walking the deck. As the sky    |
|grew less gloomy; indeed, began to grow |
|a little genial, he became still less   |
|and less a recluse; as if, when the ship|
|had sailed from home, nothing but the   |
|dead wintry bleakness of the sea had    |
|then kept him so secluded. And, by and  |
|by, it came to pass, that he was almost |
|continually in the air; but, as yet,    |
|for all that he said, or perceptibly    |
|did, on the at last sunny deck, he      |
|seemed as unnecessary there as another  |
|mast. But the Pequod was only making a  |
|passage now; not regularly cruising;    |
|nearly all whaling preparatives needing |
|supervision the mates were fully        |
|competent to, so that there was little  |
|or nothing, out of himself, to employ   |
|or excite Ahab, now; and thus chase     |
|away, for that one interval, the clouds |
|that layer upon layer were piled upon   |
|his brow, as ever all clouds choose     |
|the loftiest peaks to pile themselves   |
|upon. Nevertheless, ere long, the warm, |
|warbling persuasiveness of the pleasant,|
|holiday weather we came to, seemed      |
|gradually to charm him from his mood.   |
|For, as when the red-cheeked, dancing   |
|girls, April and May, trip home to the  |
|wintry, misanthropic woods; even the    |
|barest, ruggedest, most thunder-cloven  |
|old oak will at least send forth some   |
|few green sprouts, to welcome such      |
|glad-hearted visitants; so Ahab did, in |
|the end, a little respond to the playful|
|allurings of that girlish air. More     |
|than once did he put forth the faint    |
|blossom of a look, which, in any other  |
|man, would have soon flowered out in a  |
|smile. Some days elapsed, and ice and   |
|icebergs all astern, the Pequod now went|
|rolling through the bright Quito spring,|
|which, at sea, almost perpetually       |
|reigns on the threshold of the eternal  |
|August of the Tropic. The warmly cool,  |
|clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing,  |
|redundant days, were as crystal goblets |
|of Persian sherbet, heaped up--flaked   |
|up, with rose-water snow. The starred   |
|and stately nights seemed haughty dames |
|in jewelled velvets, nursing at home    |
|in lonely pride, the memory of their    |
|absent conquering Earls, the golden     |
|helmeted suns! For sleeping man, 'twas  |
|hard to choose between such winsome days|
|and such seducing nights. But all the   |
|witcheries of that unwaning weather did |
|not merely lend new spells and potencies|
|to the outward world. Inward they turned|
|upon the soul, especially when the still|
|mild hours of eve came on; then, memory |
|shot her crystals as the clear ice most |
|forms of noiseless twilights. And all   |
|these subtle agencies, more and more    |
|they wrought on Ahab's texture. Old age |
|is always wakeful; as if, the longer    |
|linked with life, the less man has to do|
|with aught that looks like death. Among |
|sea-commanders, the old greybeards will |
|oftenest leave their berths to visit    |
|the night-cloaked deck. It was so with  |
|Ahab; only that now, of late, he seemed |
|so much to live in the open air, that   |
|truly speaking, his visits were more    |
|to the cabin, than from the cabin to    |
|the planks. "It feels like going down   |
|into one's tomb,"--he would mutter to   |
|himself--"for an old captain like me to |
|be descending this narrow scuttle, to go|
|to my grave-dug berth." So, almost every|
|twenty-four hours, when the watches of  |
|the night were set, and the band on deck|
|sentinelled the slumbers of the band    |
|below; and when if a rope was to be     |
|hauled upon the forecastle, the sailors |
|flung it not rudely down, as by day,    |
|but with some cautiousness dropt it to  |
|its place for fear of disturbing their  |
|slumbering shipmates; when this sort of |
|steady quietude would begin to prevail, |
|habitually, the silent steersman would  |
|watch the cabin-scuttle; and ere long   |
|the old man would emerge, gripping at   |
|the iron banister, to help his crippled |
|way. Some considering touch of humanity |
|was in him; for at times like these, he |
|usually abstained from patrolling the   |
|quarter-deck; because to his wearied    |
|mates, seeking repose within six inches |
|of his ivory heel, such would have      |
|been the reverberating crack and din    |
|of that bony step, that their dreams    |
|would have been on the crunching teeth  |
|of sharks. But once, the mood was on    |
|him too deep for common regardings; and |
|as with heavy, lumber-like pace he was  |
|measuring the ship from taffrail to     |
|mainmast, Stubb, the old second mate,   |
|came up from below, with a certain      |
|unassured, deprecating humorousness,    |
|hinted that if Captain Ahab was pleased |
|to walk the planks, then, no one could  |
|say nay; but there might be some way of |
|muffling the noise; hinting something   |
|indistinctly and hesitatingly about a   |
|globe of tow, and the insertion into it,|
|of the ivory heel. Ah! Stubb, thou didst|
|not know Ahab then. "Am I a cannon-ball,|
|Stubb," said Ahab, "that thou wouldst   |
|wad me that fashion? But go thy ways;   |
|I had forgot. Below to thy nightly      |
|grave; where such as ye sleep between   |
|shrouds, to use ye to the filling one   |
|at last.--Down, dog, and kennel!"       |
|Starting at the unforseen concluding    |
|exclamation of the so suddenly scornful |
|old man, Stubb was speechless a moment; |
|then said excitedly, "I am not used to  |
|be spoken to that way, sir; I do but    |
|less than half like it, sir." "Avast!   |
|gritted Ahab between his set teeth, and |
|violently moving away, as if to avoid   |
|some passionate temptation. "No, sir;   |
|not yet," said Stubb, emboldened, "I    |
|will not tamely be called a dog, sir."  |
|"Then be called ten times a donkey,     |
|and a mule, and an ass, and begone, or  |
|I'll clear the world of thee!" As he    |
|said this, Ahab advanced upon him with  |
|such overbearing terrors in his aspect, |
|that Stubb involuntarily retreated.     |
|"I was never served so before without   |
|giving a hard blow for it," muttered    |
|Stubb, as he found himself descending   |
|the cabin-scuttle. "It's very queer.    |
|Stop, Stubb; somehow, now, I don't well |
|know whether to go back and strike him, |
|or--what's that?--down here on my knees |
|and pray for him? Yes, that was the     |
|thought coming up in me; but it would   |
|be the first time I ever DID pray. It's |
|queer; very queer; and he's queer too;  |
|aye, take him fore and aft, he's about  |
|the queerest old man Stubb ever sailed  |
|with. How he flashed at me!--his eyes   |
|like powder-pans! is he mad? Anyway     |
|there's something on his mind, as sure  |
|as there must be something on a deck    |
|when it cracks. He aint in his bed now, |
|either, more than three hours out of the|
|twenty-four; and he don't sleep then.   |
|Didn't that Dough-Boy, the steward,     |
|tell me that of a morning he always     |
|finds the old man's hammock clothes all |
|rumpled and tumbled, and the sheets     |
|down at the foot, and the coverlid      |
|almost tied into knots, and the pillow  |
|a sort of frightful hot, as though a    |
|baked brick had been on it? A hot old   |
|man! I guess he's got what some folks   |
|ashore call a conscience; it's a kind   |
|of Tic-Dolly-row they say--worse nor    |
|a toothache. Well, well; I don't know   |
|what it is, but the Lord keep me from   |
|catching it. He's full of riddles; I    |
|wonder what he goes into the after hold |
|for, every night, as Dough-Boy tells me |
|he suspects; what's that for, I should  |
|like to know? Who's made appointments   |
|with him in the hold? Ain't that queer, |
|now? But there's no telling, it's the   |
|old game--Here goes for a snooze. Damn  |
|me, it's worth a fellow's while to be   |
|born into the world, if only to fall    |
|right asleep. And now that I think of   |
|it, that's about the first thing babies |
|do, and that's a sort of queer, too.    |
|Damn me, but all things are queer, come |
|to think of 'em. But that's against my  |
|principles. Think not, is my eleventh   |
|commandment; and sleep when you can,    |
|is my twelfth--So here goes again. But  |
|how's that? didn't he call me a dog?    |
|blazes! he called me ten times a donkey,|
|and piled a lot of jackasses on top of  |
|THAT! He might as well have kicked me,  |
|and done with it. Maybe he DID kick     |
|me, and I didn't observe it, I was so   |
|taken all aback with his brow, somehow. |
|It flashed like a bleached bone. What   |
|the devil's the matter with me? I don't |
|stand right on my legs. Coming afoul    |
|of that old man has a sort of turned    |
|me wrong side out. By the Lord, I must  |
|have been dreaming, though--How? how?   |
|how?--but the only way's to stash it;   |
|so here goes to hammock again; and in   |
|the morning, I'll see how this plaguey  |
|juggling thinks over by daylight." When |
|Stubb had departed, Ahab stood for a    |
|while leaning over the bulwarks; and    |
|then, as had been usual with him of     |
|late, calling a sailor of the watch,    |
|he sent him below for his ivory stool,  |
|and also his pipe. Lighting the pipe    |
|at the binnacle lamp and planting the   |
|stool on the weather side of the deck,  |
|he sat and smoked. In old Norse times,  |
|the thrones of the sea-loving Danish    |
|kings were fabricated, saith tradition, |
|of the tusks of the narwhale. How could |
|one look at Ahab then, seated on that   |
|tripod of bones, without bethinking     |
|him of the royalty it symbolized? For   |
|a Khan of the plank, and a king of the  |
|sea, and a great lord of Leviathans     |
|was Ahab. Some moments passed, during   |
|which the thick vapour came from his    |
|mouth in quick and constant puffs,      |
|which blew back again into his face.    |
|"How now," he soliloquized at last,     |
|withdrawing the tube, "this smoking no  |
|longer soothes. Oh, my pipe! hard must  |
|it go with me if thy charm be gone! Here|
|have I been unconsciously toiling, not  |
|pleasuring--aye, and ignorantly smoking |
|to windward all the while; to windward, |
|and with such nervous whiffs, as if,    |
|like the dying whale, my final jets were|
|the strongest and fullest of trouble.   |
|What business have I with this pipe?    |
|This thing that is meant for sereneness,|
|to send up mild white vapours among mild|
|white hairs, not among torn iron-grey   |
|locks like mine. I'll smoke no more--"  |
|He tossed the still lighted pipe into   |
|the sea. The fire hissed in the waves;  |
|the same instant the ship shot by the   |
|bubble the sinking pipe made. With      |
|slouched hat, Ahab lurchingly paced the |
|planks. Next morning Stubb accosted     |
|Flask. "Such a queer dream, King-Post,  |
|I never had. You know the old man's     |
|ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me  |
|with it; and when I tried to kick back, |
|upon my soul, my little man, I kicked   |
|my leg right off! And then, presto!     |
|Ahab seemed a pyramid, and I, like a    |
|blazing fool, kept kicking at it. But   |
|what was still more curious, Flask--you |
|know how curious all dreams are--through|
|all this rage that I was in, I somehow  |
|seemed to be thinking to myself, that   |
|after all, it was not much of an insult,|
|that kick from Ahab. 'Why,' thinks I,   |
|'what's the row? It's not a real leg,   |
|only a false leg.' And there's a mighty |
|difference between a living thump and   |
|a dead thump. That's what makes a blow  |
|from the hand, Flask, fifty times more  |
|savage to bear than a blow from a cane. |
|The living member--that makes the living|
|insult, my little man. And thinks I     |
|to myself all the while, mind, while    |
|I was stubbing my silly toes against    |
|that cursed pyramid--so confoundedly    |
|contradictory was it all, all the while,|
|I say, I was thinking to myself, 'what's|
|his leg now, but a cane--a whalebone    |
|cane. Yes,' thinks I, 'it was only a    |
|playful cudgelling--in fact, only a     |
|whaleboning that he gave me--not a base |
|kick. Besides,' thinks I, 'look at it   |
|once; why, the end of it--the foot      |
|part--what a small sort of end it is;   |
|whereas, if a broad footed farmer kicked|
|me, THERE'S a devilish broad insult.    |
|But this insult is whittled down to a   |
|point only.' But now comes the greatest |
|joke of the dream, Flask. While I was   |
|battering away at the pyramid, a sort of|
|badger-haired old merman, with a hump   |
|on his back, takes me by the shoulders, |
|and slews me round. 'What are you       |
|'bout?' says he. Slid! man, but I was   |
|frightened. Such a phiz! But, somehow,  |
|next moment I was over the fright.      |
|'What am I about?' says I at last.      |
|'And what business is that of yours, I  |
|should like to know, Mr. Humpback? Do   |
|YOU want a kick?' By the lord, Flask, I |
|had no sooner said that, than he turned |
|round his stern to me, bent over, and   |
|dragging up a lot of seaweed he had for |
|a clout--what do you think, I saw?--why |
|thunder alive, man, his stern was stuck |
|full of marlinspikes, with the points   |
|out. Says I, on second thoughts, 'I     |
|guess I won't kick you, old fellow.'    |
|'Wise Stubb,' said he, 'wise Stubb;'    |
|and kept muttering it all the time, a   |
|sort of eating of his own gums like a   |
|chimney hag. Seeing he wasn't going to  |
|stop saying over his 'wise Stubb, wise  |
|Stubb,' I thought I might as well fall  |
|to kicking the pyramid again. But I had |
|only just lifted my foot for it, when   |
|he roared out, 'Stop that kicking!'     |
|'Halloa,' says I, 'what's the matter    |
|now, old fellow?' 'Look ye here,' says  |
|he; 'let's argue the insult. Captain    |
|Ahab kicked ye, didn't he?' 'Yes, he    |
|did,' says I--'right HERE it was.' 'Very|
|good,' says he--'he used his ivory      |
|leg, didn't he?' 'Yes, he did,' says    |
|I. 'Well then,' says he, 'wise Stubb,   |
|what have you to complain of? Didn't he |
|kick with right good will? it wasn't a  |
|common pitch pine leg he kicked with,   |
|was it? No, you were kicked by a great  |
|man, and with a beautiful ivory leg,    |
|Stubb. It's an honour; I consider it    |
|an honour. Listen, wise Stubb. In old   |
|England the greatest lords think it     |
|great glory to be slapped by a queen,   |
|and made garter-knights of; but, be YOUR|
|boast, Stubb, that ye were kicked by old|
|Ahab, and made a wise man of. Remember  |
|what I say; BE kicked by him; account   |
|his kicks honours; and on no account    |
|kick back; for you can't help yourself, |
|wise Stubb. Don't you see that pyramid?'|
|With that, he all of a sudden seemed    |
|somehow, in some queer fashion, to swim |
|off into the air. I snored; rolled over;|
|and there I was in my hammock! Now, what|
|do you think of that dream, Flask?" "I  |
|don't know; it seems a sort of foolish  |
|to me, tho.'" "May be; may be. But it's |
|made a wise man of me, Flask. D'ye see  |
|Ahab standing there, sideways looking   |
|over the stern? Well, the best thing    |
|you can do, Flask, is to let the old    |
|man alone; never speak to him, whatever |
|he says. Halloa! What's that he shouts? |
|Hark!" "Mast-head, there! Look sharp,   |
|all of ye! There are whales hereabouts! |
|If ye see a white one, split your lungs |
|for him! "What do you think of that     |
|now, Flask? ain't there a small drop    |
|of something queer about that, eh? A    |
|white whale--did ye mark that, man? Look|
|ye--there's something special in the    |
|wind. Stand by for it, Flask. Ahab has  |
|that that's bloody on his mind. But,    |
|mum; he comes this way." Already we     |
|are boldly launched upon the deep; but  |
|soon we shall be lost in its unshored,  |
|harbourless immensities. Ere that come  |
|to pass; ere the Pequod's weedy hull    |
|rolls side by side with the barnacled   |
|hulls of the leviathan; at the outset it|
|is but well to attend to a matter almost|
|indispensable to a thorough appreciative|
|understanding of the more special       |
|leviathanic revelations and allusions   |
|of all sorts which are to follow. It    |
|is some systematized exhibition of      |
|the whale in his broad genera, that I   |
|would now fain put before you. Yet is   |
|it no easy task. The classification of  |
|the constituents of a chaos, nothing    |
|less is here essayed. Listen to what    |
|the best and latest authorities have    |
|laid down. "No branch of Zoology is so  |
|much involved as that which is entitled |
|Cetology," says Captain Scoresby, A.D.  |
|1820. "It is not my intention, were it  |
|in my power, to enter into the inquiry  |
|as to the true method of dividing the   |
|cetacea into groups and families....    |
|Utter confusion exists among the        |
|historians of this animal" (sperm       |
|whale), says Surgeon Beale, A.D. 1839.  |
|"Unfitness to pursue our research in    |
|the unfathomable waters." "Impenetrable |
|veil covering our knowledge of the      |
|cetacea." "A field strewn with thorns." |
|"All these incomplete indications but   |
|serve to torture us naturalists."       |
|Thus speak of the whale, the great      |
|Cuvier, and John Hunter, and Lesson,    |
|those lights of zoology and anatomy.    |
|Nevertheless, though of real knowledge  |
|there be little, yet of books there are |
|a plenty; and so in some small degree,  |
|with cetology, or the science of whales.|
|Many are the men, small and great,      |
|old and new, landsmen and seamen, who   |
|have at large or in little, written     |
|of the whale. Run over a few:--The      |
|Authors of the Bible; Aristotle;        |
|Pliny; Aldrovandi; Sir Thomas Browne;   |
|Gesner; Ray; Linnaeus; Rondeletius;     |
|Willoughby; Green; Artedi; Sibbald;     |
|Brisson; Marten; Lacepede; Bonneterre;  |
|Desmarest; Baron Cuvier; Frederick      |
|Cuvier; John Hunter; Owen; Scoresby;    |
|Beale; Bennett; J. Ross Browne; the     |
|Author of Miriam Coffin; Olmstead;      |
|and the Rev. T. Cheever. But to what    |
|ultimate generalizing purpose all these |
|have written, the above cited extracts  |
|will show. Of the names in this list    |
|of whale authors, only those following  |
|Owen ever saw living whales; and but    |
|one of them was a real professional     |
|harpooneer and whaleman. I mean Captain |
|Scoresby. On the separate subject of    |
|the Greenland or right-whale, he is the |
|best existing authority. But Scoresby   |
|knew nothing and says nothing of the    |
|great sperm whale, compared with which  |
|the Greenland whale is almost unworthy  |
|mentioning. And here be it said, that   |
|the Greenland whale is an usurper upon  |
|the throne of the seas. He is not even  |
|by any means the largest of the whales. |
|Yet, owing to the long priority of his  |
|claims, and the profound ignorance      |
|which, till some seventy years back,    |
|invested the then fabulous or utterly   |
|unknown sperm-whale, and which ignorance|
|to this present day still reigns in all |
|but some few scientific retreats and    |
|whale-ports; this usurpation has been   |
|every way complete. Reference to nearly |
|all the leviathanic allusions in the    |
|great poets of past days, will satisfy  |
|you that the Greenland whale, without   |
|one rival, was to them the monarch of   |
|the seas. But the time has at last come |
|for a new proclamation. This is Charing |
|Cross; hear ye! good people all,--the   |
|Greenland whale is deposed,--the great  |
|sperm whale now reigneth! There are     |
|only two books in being which at all    |
|pretend to put the living sperm whale   |
|before you, and at the same time, in the|
|remotest degree succeed in the attempt. |
|Those books are Beale's and Bennett's;  |
|both in their time surgeons to English  |
|South-Sea whale-ships, and both exact   |
|and reliable men. The original matter   |
|touching the sperm whale to be found in |
|their volumes is necessarily small; but |
|so far as it goes, it is of excellent   |
|quality, though mostly confined to      |
|scientific description. As yet, however,|
|the sperm whale, scientific or poetic,  |
|lives not complete in any literature.   |
|Far above all other hunted whales, his  |
|is an unwritten life. Now the various   |
|species of whales need some sort of     |
|popular comprehensive classification,   |
|if only an easy outline one for the     |
|present, hereafter to be filled in      |
|all its departments by subsequent       |
|laborers. As no better man advances to  |
|take this matter in hand, I hereupon    |
|offer my own poor endeavors. I promise  |
|nothing complete; because any human     |
|thing supposed to be complete, must     |
|for that very reason infallibly be      |
|faulty. I shall not pretend to a minute |
|anatomical description of the various   |
|species, or--in this place at least--to |
|much of any description. My object      |
|here is simply to project the draught   |
|of a systematization of cetology. I am  |
|the architect, not the builder. But     |
|it is a ponderous task; no ordinary     |
|letter-sorter in the Post-Office is     |
|equal to it. To grope down into the     |
|bottom of the sea after them; to have   |
|one's hands among the unspeakable       |
|foundations, ribs, and very pelvis of   |
|the world; this is a fearful thing.     |
|What am I that I should essay to hook   |
|the nose of this leviathan! The awful   |
|tauntings in Job might well appal me.   |
|"Will he the (leviathan) make a covenant|
|with thee? Behold the hope of him is    |
|vain! But I have swam through libraries |
|and sailed through oceans; I have had to|
|do with whales with these visible hands;|
|I am in earnest; and I will try. There  |
|are some preliminaries to settle. First:|
|The uncertain, unsettled condition of   |
|this science of Cetology is in the very |
|vestibule attested by the fact, that in |
|some quarters it still remains a moot   |
|point whether a whale be a fish. In his |
|System of Nature, A.D. 1776, Linnaeus   |
|declares, "I hereby separate the whales |
|from the fish." But of my own knowledge,|
|I know that down to the year 1850,      |
|sharks and shad, alewives and herring,  |
|against Linnaeus's express edict, were  |
|still found dividing the possession     |
|of the same seas with the Leviathan.    |
|The grounds upon which Linnaeus would   |
|fain have banished the whales from      |
|the waters, he states as follows: "On   |
|account of their warm bilocular heart,  |
|their lungs, their movable eyelids,     |
|their hollow ears, penem intrantem      |
|feminam mammis lactantem," and finally, |
|"ex lege naturae jure meritoque."       |
|I submitted all this to my friends      |
|Simeon Macey and Charley Coffin, of     |
|Nantucket, both messmates of mine in    |
|a certain voyage, and they united in    |
|the opinion that the reasons set forth  |
|were altogether insufficient. Charley   |
|profanely hinted they were humbug. Be   |
|it known that, waiving all argument, I  |
|take the good old fashioned ground that |
|the whale is a fish, and call upon holy |
|Jonah to back me. This fundamental thing|
|settled, the next point is, in what     |
|internal respect does the whale differ  |
|from other fish. Above, Linnaeus has    |
|given you those items. But in brief,    |
|they are these: lungs and warm blood;   |
|whereas, all other fish are lungless and|
|cold blooded. Next: how shall we define |
|the whale, by his obvious externals, so |
|as conspicuously to label him for all   |
|time to come? To be short, then, a whale|
|is A SPOUTING FISH WITH A HORIZONTAL    |
|TAIL. There you have him. However       |
|contracted, that definition is the      |
|result of expanded meditation. A walrus |
|spouts much like a whale, but the walrus|
|is not a fish, because he is amphibious.|
|But the last term of the definition is  |
|still more cogent, as coupled with the  |
|first. Almost any one must have noticed |
|that all the fish familiar to landsmen  |
|have not a flat, but a vertical, or     |
|up-and-down tail. Whereas, among        |
|spouting fish the tail, though it may   |
|be similarly shaped, invariably assumes |
|a horizontal position. By the above     |
|definition of what a whale is, I do by  |
|no means exclude from the leviathanic   |
|brotherhood any sea creature hitherto   |
|identified with the whale by the best   |
|informed Nantucketers; nor, on the other|
|hand, link with it any fish hitherto    |
|authoritatively regarded as alien.*     |
|Hence, all the smaller, spouting, and   |
|horizontal tailed fish must be included |
|in this ground-plan of Cetology. Now,   |
|then, come the grand divisions of the   |
|entire whale host. *I am aware that down|
|to the present time, the fish styled    |
|Lamatins and Dugongs (Pig-fish and      |
|Sow-fish of the Coffins of Nantucket)   |
|are included by many naturalists among  |
|the whales. But as these pig-fish are a |
|noisy, contemptible set, mostly lurking |
|in the mouths of rivers, and feeding    |
|on wet hay, and especially as they do   |
|not spout, I deny their credentials as  |
|whales; and have presented them with    |
|their passports to quit the Kingdom of  |
|Cetology. First: According to magnitude |
|I divide the whales into three primary  |
|BOOKS (subdivisible into CHAPTERS),     |
|and these shall comprehend them all,    |
|both small and large. I. THE FOLIO      |
|WHALE; II. the OCTAVO WHALE; III. the   |
|DUODECIMO WHALE. As the type of the     |
|FOLIO I present the SPERM WHALE; of the |
|OCTAVO, the GRAMPUS; of the DUODECIMO,  |
|the PORPOISE. FOLIOS. Among these I here|
|include the following chapters:--I. The |
|SPERM WHALE; II. the RIGHT WHALE; III.  |
|the FIN-BACK WHALE; IV. the HUMP-BACKED |
|WHALE; V. the RAZOR-BACK WHALE; VI. the |
|SULPHUR-BOTTOM WHALE. BOOK I. (FOLIO),  |
|CHAPTER I. (SPERM WHALE).--This whale,  |
|among the English of old vaguely known  |
|as the Trumpa whale, and the Physeter   |
|whale, and the Anvil Headed whale, is   |
|the present Cachalot of the French, and |
|the Pottsfich of the Germans, and the   |
|Macrocephalus of the Long Words. He is, |
|without doubt, the largest inhabitant of|
|the globe; the most formidable of all   |
|whales to encounter; the most majestic  |
|in aspect; and lastly, by far the most  |
|valuable in commerce; he being the      |
|only creature from which that valuable  |
|substance, spermaceti, is obtained.     |
|All his peculiarities will, in many     |
|other places, be enlarged upon. It is   |
|chiefly with his name that I now have   |
|to do. Philologically considered, it is |
|absurd. Some centuries ago, when the    |
|Sperm whale was almost wholly unknown   |
|in his own proper individuality, and    |
|when his oil was only accidentally      |
|obtained from the stranded fish; in     |
|those days spermaceti, it would seem,   |
|was popularly supposed to be derived    |
|from a creature identical with the one  |
|then known in England as the Greenland  |
|or Right Whale. It was the idea also,   |
|that this same spermaceti was that      |
|quickening humor of the Greenland Whale |
|which the first syllable of the word    |
|literally expresses. In those times,    |
|also, spermaceti was exceedingly scarce,|
|not being used for light, but only as   |
|an ointment and medicament. It was only |
|to be had from the druggists as you     |
|nowadays buy an ounce of rhubarb. When, |
|as I opine, in the course of time, the  |
|true nature of spermaceti became known, |
|its original name was still retained    |
|by the dealers; no doubt to enhance     |
|its value by a notion so strangely      |
|significant of its scarcity. And so the |
|appellation must at last have come to be|
|bestowed upon the whale from which this |
|spermaceti was really derived. BOOK I.  |
|(FOLIO), CHAPTER II. (RIGHT WHALE).--In |
|one respect this is the most venerable  |
|of the leviathans, being the one first  |
|regularly hunted by man. It yields the  |
|article commonly known as whalebone or  |
|baleen; and the oil specially known     |
|as "whale oil," an inferior article     |
|in commerce. Among the fishermen, he    |
|is indiscriminately designated by all   |
|the following titles: The Whale; the    |
|Greenland Whale; the Black Whale; the   |
|Great Whale; the True Whale; the Right  |
|Whale. There is a deal of obscurity     |
|concerning the identity of the species  |
|thus multitudinously baptised. What     |
|then is the whale, which I include in   |
|the second species of my Folios? It is  |
|the Great Mysticetus of the English     |
|naturalists; the Greenland Whale of the |
|English whalemen; the Baliene Ordinaire |
|of the French whalemen; the Growlands   |
|Walfish of the Swedes. It is the whale  |
|which for more than two centuries       |
|past has been hunted by the Dutch and   |
|English in the Arctic seas; it is the   |
|whale which the American fishermen      |
|have long pursued in the Indian ocean,  |
|on the Brazil Banks, on the Nor' West   |
|Coast, and various other parts of the   |
|world, designated by them Right Whale   |
|Cruising Grounds. Some pretend to see a |
|difference between the Greenland whale  |
|of the English and the right whale      |
|of the Americans. But they precisely    |
|agree in all their grand features;      |
|nor has there yet been presented a      |
|single determinate fact upon which to   |
|ground a radical distinction. It is by  |
|endless subdivisions based upon the most|
|inconclusive differences, that some     |
|departments of natural history become so|
|repellingly intricate. The right whale  |
|will be elsewhere treated of at some    |
|length, with reference to elucidating   |
|the sperm whale. BOOK I. (FOLIO),       |
|CHAPTER III. (FIN-BACK).--Under this    |
|head I reckon a monster which, by the   |
|various names of Fin-Back, Tall-Spout,  |
|and Long-John, has been seen almost in  |
|every sea and is commonly the whale     |
|whose distant jet is so often descried  |
|by passengers crossing the Atlantic,    |
|in the New York packet-tracks. In the   |
|length he attains, and in his baleen,   |
|the Fin-back resembles the right whale, |
|but is of a less portly girth, and a    |
|lighter colour, approaching to olive.   |
|His great lips present a cable-like     |
|aspect, formed by the intertwisting,    |
|slanting folds of large wrinkles. His   |
|grand distinguishing feature, the fin,  |
|from which he derives his name, is      |
|often a conspicuous object. This fin is |
|some three or four feet long, growing   |
|vertically from the hinder part of the  |
|back, of an angular shape, and with a   |
|very sharp pointed end. Even if not the |
|slightest other part of the creature    |
|be visible, this isolated fin will, at  |
|times, be seen plainly projecting from  |
|the surface. When the sea is moderately |
|calm, and slightly marked with spherical|
|ripples, and this gnomon-like fin stands|
|up and casts shadows upon the wrinkled  |
|surface, it may well be supposed        |
|that the watery circle surrounding      |
|it somewhat resembles a dial, with      |
|its style and wavy hour-lines graved    |
|on it. On that Ahaz-dial the shadow     |
|often goes back. The Fin-Back is not    |
|gregarious. He seems a whale-hater,     |
|as some men are man-haters. Very shy;   |
|always going solitary; unexpectedly     |
|rising to the surface in the remotest   |
|and most sullen waters; his straight    |
|and single lofty jet rising like a tall |
|misanthropic spear upon a barren plain; |
|gifted with such wondrous power and     |
|velocity in swimming, as to defy all    |
|present pursuit from man; this leviathan|
|seems the banished and unconquerable    |
|Cain of his race, bearing for his mark  |
|that style upon his back. From having   |
|the baleen in his mouth, the Fin-Back   |
|is sometimes included with the right    |
|whale, among a theoretic species        |
|denominated WHALEBONE WHALES, that is,  |
|whales with baleen. Of these so called  |
|Whalebone whales, there would seem to   |
|be several varieties, most of which,    |
|however, are little known. Broad-nosed  |
|whales and beaked whales; pike-headed   |
|whales; bunched whales; under-jawed     |
|whales and rostrated whales, are the    |
|fishermen's names for a few sorts. In   |
|connection with this appellative of     |
|"Whalebone whales," it is of great      |
|importance to mention, that however such|
|a nomenclature may be convenient in     |
|facilitating allusions to some kind of  |
|whales, yet it is in vain to attempt a  |
|clear classification of the Leviathan,  |
|founded upon either his baleen, or      |
|hump, or fin, or teeth; notwithstanding |
|that those marked parts or features     |
|very obviously seem better adapted to   |
|afford the basis for a regular system   |
|of Cetology than any other detached     |
|bodily distinctions, which the whale,   |
|in his kinds, presents. How then? The   |
|baleen, hump, back-fin, and teeth;      |
|these are things whose peculiarities    |
|are indiscriminately dispersed among    |
|all sorts of whales, without any regard |
|to what may be the nature of their      |
|structure in other and more essential   |
|particulars. Thus, the sperm whale      |
|and the humpbacked whale, each has a    |
|hump; but there the similitude ceases.  |
|Then, this same humpbacked whale and    |
|the Greenland whale, each of these has  |
|baleen; but there again the similitude  |
|ceases. And it is just the same with    |
|the other parts above mentioned. In     |
|various sorts of whales, they form such |
|irregular combinations; or, in the case |
|of any one of them detached, such an    |
|irregular isolation; as utterly to defy |
|all general methodization formed upon   |
|such a basis. On this rock every one of |
|the whale-naturalists has split. But    |
|it may possibly be conceived that, in   |
|the internal parts of the whale, in his |
|anatomy--there, at least, we shall be   |
|able to hit the right classification.   |
|Nay; what thing, for example, is there  |
|in the Greenland whale's anatomy more   |
|striking than his baleen? Yet we have   |
|seen that by his baleen it is impossible|
|correctly to classify the Greenland     |
|whale. And if you descend into the      |
|bowels of the various leviathans, why   |
|there you will not find distinctions    |
|a fiftieth part as available to the     |
|systematizer as those external ones     |
|already enumerated. What then remains?  |
|nothing but to take hold of the whales  |
|bodily, in their entire liberal volume, |
|and boldly sort them that way. And this |
|is the Bibliographical system here      |
|adopted; and it is the only one that    |
|can possibly succeed, for it alone is   |
|practicable. To proceed. BOOK I. (FOLIO)|
|CHAPTER IV. (HUMP-BACK).--This whale    |
|is often seen on the northern American  |
|coast. He has been frequently captured  |
|there, and towed into harbor. He has a  |
|great pack on him like a peddler; or you|
|might call him the Elephant and Castle  |
|whale. At any rate, the popular name for|
|him does not sufficiently distinguish   |
|him, since the sperm whale also has a   |
|hump though a smaller one. His oil is   |
|not very valuable. He has baleen. He is |
|the most gamesome and light-hearted of  |
|all the whales, making more gay foam and|
|white water generally than any other    |
|of them. BOOK I. (FOLIO), CHAPTER V.    |
|(RAZOR-BACK).--Of this whale little is  |
|known but his name. I have seen him at  |
|a distance off Cape Horn. Of a retiring |
|nature, he eludes both hunters and      |
|philosophers. Though no coward, he has  |
|never yet shown any part of him but his |
|back, which rises in a long sharp ridge.|
|Let him go. I know little more of him,  |
|nor does anybody else. BOOK I. (FOLIO), |
|CHAPTER VI. (SULPHUR-BOTTOM).--Another  |
|retiring gentleman, with a brimstone    |
|belly, doubtless got by scraping along  |
|the Tartarian tiles in some of his      |
|profounder divings. He is seldom seen;  |
|at least I have never seen him except   |
|in the remoter southern seas, and then  |
|always at too great a distance to study |
|his countenance. He is never chased;    |
|he would run away with rope-walks of    |
|line. Prodigies are told of him. Adieu, |
|Sulphur Bottom! I can say nothing       |
|more that is true of ye, nor can the    |
|oldest Nantucketer. Thus ends BOOK      |
|I. (FOLIO), and now begins BOOK II.     |
|(OCTAVO). OCTAVOES.*--These embrace the |
|whales of middling magnitude, among     |
|which present may be numbered:--I., the |
|GRAMPUS; II., the BLACK FISH; III.,     |
|the NARWHALE; IV., the THRASHER; V.,    |
|the KILLER. *Why this book of whales    |
|is not denominated the Quarto is very   |
|plain. Because, while the whales of     |
|this order, though smaller than those   |
|of the former order, nevertheless       |
|retain a proportionate likeness to      |
|them in figure, yet the bookbinder's    |
|Quarto volume in its dimensioned form   |
|does not preserve the shape of the      |
|Folio volume, but the Octavo volume     |
|does. BOOK II. (OCTAVO), CHAPTER I.     |
|(GRAMPUS).--Though this fish, whose loud|
|sonorous breathing, or rather blowing,  |
|has furnished a proverb to landsmen, is |
|so well known a denizen of the deep,    |
|yet is he not popularly classed among   |
|whales. But possessing all the grand    |
|distinctive features of the leviathan,  |
|most naturalists have recognised him    |
|for one. He is of moderate octavo size, |
|varying from fifteen to twenty-five     |
|feet in length, and of corresponding    |
|dimensions round the waist. He swims in |
|herds; he is never regularly hunted,    |
|though his oil is considerable in       |
|quantity, and pretty good for light. By |
|some fishermen his approach is regarded |
|as premonitory of the advance of the    |
|great sperm whale. BOOK II. (OCTAVO),   |
|CHAPTER II. (BLACK FISH).--I give the   |
|popular fishermen's names for all these |
|fish, for generally they are the best.  |
|Where any name happens to be vague      |
|or inexpressive, I shall say so, and    |
|suggest another. I do so now, touching  |
|the Black Fish, so-called, because      |
|blackness is the rule among almost all  |
|whales. So, call him the Hyena Whale,   |
|if you please. His voracity is well     |
|known, and from the circumstance that   |
|the inner angles of his lips are curved |
|upwards, he carries an everlasting      |
|Mephistophelean grin on his face. This  |
|whale averages some sixteen or eighteen |
|feet in length. He is found in almost   |
|all latitudes. He has a peculiar way    |
|of showing his dorsal hooked fin in     |
|swimming, which looks something like a  |
|Roman nose. When not more profitably    |
|employed, the sperm whale hunters       |
|sometimes capture the Hyena whale, to   |
|keep up the supply of cheap oil for     |
|domestic employment--as some frugal     |
|housekeepers, in the absence of company,|
|and quite alone by themselves, burn     |
|unsavory tallow instead of odorous wax. |
|Though their blubber is very thin, some |
|of these whales will yield you upwards  |
|of thirty gallons of oil. BOOK II.      |
|(OCTAVO), CHAPTER III. (NARWHALE), that |
|is, NOSTRIL WHALE.--Another instance    |
|of a curiously named whale, so named I  |
|suppose from his peculiar horn being    |
|originally mistaken for a peaked nose.  |
|The creature is some sixteen feet in    |
|length, while its horn averages five    |
|feet, though some exceed ten, and       |
|even attain to fifteen feet. Strictly   |
|speaking, this horn is but a lengthened |
|tusk, growing out from the jaw in a line|
|a little depressed from the horizontal. |
|But it is only found on the sinister    |
|side, which has an ill effect, giving   |
|its owner something analogous to the    |
|aspect of a clumsy left-handed man.     |
|What precise purpose this ivory horn    |
|or lance answers, it would be hard      |
|to say. It does not seem to be used     |
|like the blade of the sword-fish and    |
|bill-fish; though some sailors tell     |
|me that the Narwhale employs it for     |
|a rake in turning over the bottom of    |
|the sea for food. Charley Coffin said   |
|it was used for an ice-piercer; for     |
|the Narwhale, rising to the surface of  |
|the Polar Sea, and finding it sheeted   |
|with ice, thrusts his horn up, and so   |
|breaks through. But you cannot prove    |
|either of these surmises to be correct. |
|My own opinion is, that however this    |
|one-sided horn may really be used by the|
|Narwhale--however that may be--it would |
|certainly be very convenient to him     |
|for a folder in reading pamphlets. The  |
|Narwhale I have heard called the Tusked |
|whale, the Horned whale, and the Unicorn|
|whale. He is certainly a curious example|
|of the Unicornism to be found in almost |
|every kingdom of animated nature. From  |
|certain cloistered old authors I have   |
|gathered that this same sea-unicorn's   |
|horn was in ancient days regarded as    |
|the great antidote against poison, and  |
|as such, preparations of it brought     |
|immense prices. It was also distilled to|
|a volatile salts for fainting ladies,   |
|the same way that the horns of the male |
|deer are manufactured into hartshorn.   |
|Originally it was in itself accounted an|
|object of great curiosity. Black Letter |
|tells me that Sir Martin Frobisher on   |
|his return from that voyage, when Queen |
|Bess did gallantly wave her jewelled    |
|hand to him from a window of Greenwich  |
|Palace, as his bold ship sailed down    |
|the Thames; "when Sir Martin returned   |
|from that voyage," saith Black Letter,  |
|"on bended knees he presented to her    |
|highness a prodigious long horn of the  |
|Narwhale, which for a long period after |
|hung in the castle at Windsor." An Irish|
|author avers that the Earl of Leicester,|
|on bended knees, did likewise present to|
|her highness another horn, pertaining   |
|to a land beast of the unicorn nature.  |
|The Narwhale has a very picturesque,    |
|leopard-like look, being of a milk-white|
|ground colour, dotted with round and    |
|oblong spots of black. His oil is very  |
|superior, clear and fine; but there is  |
|little of it, and he is seldom hunted.  |
|He is mostly found in the circumpolar   |
|seas. BOOK II. (OCTAVO), CHAPTER IV.    |
|(KILLER).--Of this whale little is      |
|precisely known to the Nantucketer,     |
|and nothing at all to the professed     |
|naturalist. From what I have seen of him|
|at a distance, I should say that he was |
|about the bigness of a grampus. He is   |
|very savage--a sort of Feegee fish. He  |
|sometimes takes the great Folio whales  |
|by the lip, and hangs there like a      |
|leech, till the mighty brute is worried |
|to death. The Killer is never hunted.   |
|I never heard what sort of oil he has.  |
|Exception might be taken to the name    |
|bestowed upon this whale, on the ground |
|of its indistinctness. For we are all   |
|killers, on land and on sea; Bonapartes |
|and Sharks included. BOOK II. (OCTAVO), |
|CHAPTER V. (THRASHER).--This gentleman  |
|is famous for his tail, which he uses   |
|for a ferule in thrashing his foes.     |
|He mounts the Folio whale's back, and   |
|as he swims, he works his passage by    |
|flogging him; as some schoolmasters     |
|get along in the world by a similar     |
|process. Still less is known of the     |
|Thrasher than of the Killer. Both are   |
|outlaws, even in the lawless seas. Thus |
|ends BOOK II. (OCTAVO), and begins BOOK |
|III. (DUODECIMO). DUODECIMOES.--These   |
|include the smaller whales. I. The Huzza|
|Porpoise. II. The Algerine Porpoise.    |
|III. The Mealy-mouthed Porpoise. To     |
|those who have not chanced specially    |
|to study the subject, it may possibly   |
|seem strange, that fishes not commonly  |
|exceeding four or five feet should be   |
|marshalled among WHALES--a word, which, |
|in the popular sense, always conveys    |
|an idea of hugeness. But the creatures  |
|set down above as Duodecimoes are       |
|infallibly whales, by the terms of my   |
|definition of what a whale is--i.e. a   |
|spouting fish, with a horizontal tail.  |
|BOOK III. (DUODECIMO), CHAPTER 1. (HUZZA|
|PORPOISE).--This is the common porpoise |
|found almost all over the globe. The    |
|name is of my own bestowal; for there   |
|are more than one sort of porpoises, and|
|something must be done to distinguish   |
|them. I call him thus, because he always|
|swims in hilarious shoals, which upon   |
|the broad sea keep tossing themselves   |
|to heaven like caps in a Fourth-of-July |
|crowd. Their appearance is generally    |
|hailed with delight by the mariner. Full|
|of fine spirits, they invariably come   |
|from the breezy billows to windward.    |
|They are the lads that always live      |
|before the wind. They are accounted     |
|a lucky omen. If you yourself can       |
|withstand three cheers at beholding     |
|these vivacious fish, then heaven help  |
|ye; the spirit of godly gamesomeness    |
|is not in ye. A well-fed, plump Huzza   |
|Porpoise will yield you one good gallon |
|of good oil. But the fine and delicate  |
|fluid extracted from his jaws is        |
|exceedingly valuable. It is in request  |
|among jewellers and watchmakers. Sailors|
|put it on their hones. Porpoise meat is |
|good eating, you know. It may never have|
|occurred to you that a porpoise spouts. |
|Indeed, his spout is so small that it   |
|is not very readily discernible. But    |
|the next time you have a chance, watch  |
|him; and you will then see the great    |
|Sperm whale himself in miniature. BOOK  |
|III. (DUODECIMO), CHAPTER II. (ALGERINE |
|PORPOISE).--A pirate. Very savage. He   |
|is only found, I think, in the Pacific. |
|He is somewhat larger than the Huzza    |
|Porpoise, but much of the same general  |
|make. Provoke him, and he will buckle   |
|to a shark. I have lowered for him many |
|times, but never yet saw him captured.  |
|BOOK III. (DUODECIMO), CHAPTER III.     |
|(MEALY-MOUTHED PORPOISE).--The largest  |
|kind of Porpoise; and only found in     |
|the Pacific, so far as it is known.     |
|The only English name, by which he has  |
|hitherto been designated, is that of    |
|the fishers--Right-Whale Porpoise, from |
|the circumstance that he is chiefly     |
|found in the vicinity of that Folio.    |
|In shape, he differs in some degree     |
|from the Huzza Porpoise, being of a     |
|less rotund and jolly girth; indeed, he |
|is of quite a neat and gentleman-like   |
|figure. He has no fins on his back (most|
|other porpoises have), he has a lovely  |
|tail, and sentimental Indian eyes of a  |
|hazel hue. But his mealy-mouth spoils   |
|all. Though his entire back down to     |
|his side fins is of a deep sable, yet   |
|a boundary line, distinct as the mark   |
|in a ship's hull, called the "bright    |
|waist," that line streaks him from stem |
|to stern, with two separate colours,    |
|black above and white below. The white  |
|comprises part of his head, and the     |
|whole of his mouth, which makes him     |
|look as if he had just escaped from     |
|a felonious visit to a meal-bag. A      |
|most mean and mealy aspect! His oil is  |
|much like that of the common porpoise.  |
|Beyond the DUODECIMO, this system does  |
|not proceed, inasmuch as the Porpoise   |
|is the smallest of the whales. Above,   |
|you have all the Leviathans of note.    |
|But there are a rabble of uncertain,    |
|fugitive, half-fabulous whales, which,  |
|as an American whaleman, I know by      |
|reputation, but not personally. I shall |
|enumerate them by their fore-castle     |
|appellations; for possibly such a list  |
|may be valuable to future investigators,|
|who may complete what I have here but   |
|begun. If any of the following whales,  |
|shall hereafter be caught and marked,   |
|then he can readily be incorporated into|
|this System, according to his Folio,    |
|Octavo, or Duodecimo magnitude:--The    |
|Bottle-Nose Whale; the Junk Whale; the  |
|Pudding-Headed Whale; the Cape Whale;   |
|the Leading Whale; the Cannon Whale;    |
|the Scragg Whale; the Coppered Whale;   |
|the Elephant Whale; the Iceberg Whale;  |
|the Quog Whale; the Blue Whale; etc.    |
|From Icelandic, Dutch, and old English  |
|authorities, there might be quoted other|
|lists of uncertain whales, blessed      |
|with all manner of uncouth names. But   |
|I omit them as altogether obsolete;     |
|and can hardly help suspecting them     |
|for mere sounds, full of Leviathanism,  |
|but signifying nothing. Finally: It     |
|was stated at the outset, that this     |
|system would not be here, and at once,  |
|perfected. You cannot but plainly see   |
|that I have kept my word. But I now     |
|leave my cetological System standing    |
|thus unfinished, even as the great      |
|Cathedral of Cologne was left, with     |
|the crane still standing upon the top   |
|of the uncompleted tower. For small     |
|erections may be finished by their first|
|architects; grand ones, true ones, ever |
|leave the copestone to posterity. God   |
|keep me from ever completing anything.  |
|This whole book is but a draught--nay,  |
|but the draught of a draught. Oh, Time, |
|Strength, Cash, and Patience! Concerning|
|the officers of the whale-craft, this   |
|seems as good a place as any to set     |
|down a little domestic peculiarity on   |
|ship-board, arising from the existence  |
|of the harpooneer class of officers, a  |
|class unknown of course in any other    |
|marine than the whale-fleet. The large  |
|importance attached to the harpooneer's |
|vocation is evinced by the fact, that   |
|originally in the old Dutch Fishery, two|
|centuries and more ago, the command of  |
|a whale ship was not wholly lodged in   |
|the person now called the captain, but  |
|was divided between him and an officer  |
|called the Specksynder. Literally       |
|this word means Fat-Cutter; usage,      |
|however, in time made it equivalent to  |
|Chief Harpooneer. In those days, the    |
|captain's authority was restricted to   |
|the navigation and general management of|
|the vessel; while over the whale-hunting|
|department and all its concerns, the    |
|Specksynder or Chief Harpooneer reigned |
|supreme. In the British Greenland       |
|Fishery, under the corrupted title of   |
|Specksioneer, this old Dutch official is|
|still retained, but his former dignity  |
|is sadly abridged. At present he ranks  |
|simply as senior Harpooneer; and as     |
|such, is but one of the captain's more  |
|inferior subalterns. Nevertheless, as   |
|upon the good conduct of the harpooneers|
|the success of a whaling voyage largely |
|depends, and since in the American      |
|Fishery he is not only an important     |
|officer in the boat, but under certain  |
|circumstances (night watches on a       |
|whaling ground) the command of the      |
|ship's deck is also his; therefore      |
|the grand political maxim of the sea    |
|demands, that he should nominally live  |
|apart from the men before the mast,     |
|and be in some way distinguished as     |
|their professional superior; though     |
|always, by them, familiarly regarded    |
|as their social equal. Now, the grand   |
|distinction drawn between officer       |
|and man at sea, is this--the first      |
|lives aft, the last forward. Hence,     |
|in whale-ships and merchantmen alike,   |
|the mates have their quarters with the  |
|captain; and so, too, in most of the    |
|American whalers the harpooneers are    |
|lodged in the after part of the ship.   |
|That is to say, they take their meals   |
|in the captain's cabin, and sleep in a  |
|place indirectly communicating with it. |
|Though the long period of a Southern    |
|whaling voyage (by far the longest of   |
|all voyages now or ever made by man),   |
|the peculiar perils of it, and the      |
|community of interest prevailing among  |
|a company, all of whom, high or low,    |
|depend for their profits, not upon fixed|
|wages, but upon their common luck,      |
|together with their common vigilance,   |
|intrepidity, and hard work; though all  |
|these things do in some cases tend to   |
|beget a less rigorous discipline than in|
|merchantmen generally; yet, never mind  |
|how much like an old Mesopotamian family|
|these whalemen may, in some primitive   |
|instances, live together; for all that, |
|the punctilious externals, at least, of |
|the quarter-deck are seldom materially  |
|relaxed, and in no instance done away.  |
|Indeed, many are the Nantucket ships in |
|which you will see the skipper parading |
|his quarter-deck with an elated grandeur|
|not surpassed in any military navy; nay,|
|extorting almost as much outward homage |
|as if he wore the imperial purple, and  |
|not the shabbiest of pilot-cloth. And   |
|though of all men the moody captain     |
|of the Pequod was the least given to    |
|that sort of shallowest assumption;     |
|and though the only homage he ever      |
|exacted, was implicit, instantaneous    |
|obedience; though he required no man    |
|to remove the shoes from his feet ere   |
|stepping upon the quarter-deck; and     |
|though there were times when, owing     |
|to peculiar circumstances connected     |
|with events hereafter to be detailed,   |
|he addressed them in unusual terms,     |
|whether of condescension or IN TERROREM,|
|or otherwise; yet even Captain Ahab     |
|was by no means unobservant of the      |
|paramount forms and usages of the       |
|sea. Nor, perhaps, will it fail to      |
|be eventually perceived, that behind    |
|those forms and usages, as it were, he  |
|sometimes masked himself; incidentally  |
|making use of them for other and more   |
|private ends than they were legitimately|
|intended to subserve. That certain      |
|sultanism of his brain, which had       |
|otherwise in a good degree remained     |
|unmanifested; through those forms that  |
|same sultanism became incarnate in an   |
|irresistible dictatorship. For be a     |
|man's intellectual superiority what it  |
|will, it can never assume the practical,|
|available supremacy over other men,     |
|without the aid of some sort of external|
|arts and entrenchments, always, in      |
|themselves, more or less paltry and     |
|base. This it is, that for ever keeps   |
|God's true princes of the Empire from   |
|the world's hustings; and leaves the    |
|highest honours that this air can give, |
|to those men who become famous more     |
|through their infinite inferiority to   |
|the choice hidden handful of the Divine |
|Inert, than through their undoubted     |
|superiority over the dead level of the  |
|mass. Such large virtue lurks in these  |
|small things when extreme political     |
|superstitions invest them, that in some |
|royal instances even to idiot imbecility|
|they have imparted potency. But when,   |
|as in the case of Nicholas the Czar,    |
|the ringed crown of geographical empire |
|encircles an imperial brain; then, the  |
|plebeian herds crouch abased before the |
|tremendous centralization. Nor, will    |
|the tragic dramatist who would depict   |
|mortal indomitableness in its fullest   |
|sweep and direct swing, ever forget a   |
|hint, incidentally so important in his  |
|art, as the one now alluded to. But     |
|Ahab, my Captain, still moves before    |
|me in all his Nantucket grimness and    |
|shagginess; and in this episode touching|
|Emperors and Kings, I must not conceal  |
|that I have only to do with a poor old  |
|whale-hunter like him; and, therefore,  |
|all outward majestical trappings and    |
|housings are denied me. Oh, Ahab! what  |
|shall be grand in thee, it must needs   |
|be plucked at from the skies, and       |
|dived for in the deep, and featured     |
|in the unbodied air! It is noon; and    |
|Dough-Boy, the steward, thrusting       |
|his pale loaf-of-bread face from the    |
|cabin-scuttle, announces dinner to      |
|his lord and master; who, sitting in    |
|the lee quarter-boat, has just been     |
|taking an observation of the sun; and   |
|is now mutely reckoning the latitude on |
|the smooth, medallion-shaped tablet,    |
|reserved for that daily purpose on the  |
|upper part of his ivory leg. From his   |
|complete inattention to the tidings,    |
|you would think that moody Ahab had     |
|not heard his menial. But presently,    |
|catching hold of the mizen shrouds,     |
|he swings himself to the deck, and in   |
|an even, unexhilarated voice, saying,   |
|"Dinner, Mr. Starbuck," disappears      |
|into the cabin. When the last echo      |
|of his sultan's step has died away,     |
|and Starbuck, the first Emir, has       |
|every reason to suppose that he is      |
|seated, then Starbuck rouses from his   |
|quietude, takes a few turns along the   |
|planks, and, after a grave peep into    |
|the binnacle, says, with some touch of  |
|pleasantness, "Dinner, Mr. Stubb," and  |
|descends the scuttle. The second Emir   |
|lounges about the rigging awhile, and   |
|then slightly shaking the main brace,   |
|to see whether it will be all right     |
|with that important rope, he likewise   |
|takes up the old burden, and with a     |
|rapid "Dinner, Mr. Flask," follows after|
|his predecessors. But the third Emir,   |
|now seeing himself all alone on the     |
|quarter-deck, seems to feel relieved    |
|from some curious restraint; for,       |
|tipping all sorts of knowing winks in   |
|all sorts of directions, and kicking off|
|his shoes, he strikes into a sharp but  |
|noiseless squall of a hornpipe right    |
|over the Grand Turk's head; and then,   |
|by a dexterous sleight, pitching his    |
|cap up into the mizentop for a shelf,   |
|he goes down rollicking so far at least |
|as he remains visible from the deck,    |
|reversing all other processions, by     |
|bringing up the rear with music. But ere|
|stepping into the cabin doorway below,  |
|he pauses, ships a new face altogether, |
|and, then, independent, hilarious little|
|Flask enters King Ahab's presence,      |
|in the character of Abjectus, or the    |
|Slave. It is not the least among the    |
|strange things bred by the intense      |
|artificialness of sea-usages, that      |
|while in the open air of the deck some  |
|officers will, upon provocation, bear   |
|themselves boldly and defyingly enough  |
|towards their commander; yet, ten to    |
|one, let those very officers the next   |
|moment go down to their customary dinner|
|in that same commander's cabin, and     |
|straightway their inoffensive, not to   |
|say deprecatory and humble air towards  |
|him, as he sits at the head of the      |
|table; this is marvellous, sometimes    |
|most comical. Wherefore this difference?|
|A problem? Perhaps not. To have been    |
|Belshazzar, King of Babylon; and to     |
|have been Belshazzar, not haughtily but |
|courteously, therein certainly must have|
|been some touch of mundane grandeur.    |
|But he who in the rightly regal and     |
|intelligent spirit presides over his    |
|own private dinner-table of invited     |
|guests, that man's unchallenged power   |
|and dominion of individual influence for|
|the time; that man's royalty of state   |
|transcends Belshazzar's, for Belshazzar |
|was not the greatest. Who has but once  |
|dined his friends, has tasted what it is|
|to be Caesar. It is a witchery of social|
|czarship which there is no withstanding.|
|Now, if to this consideration you       |
|superadd the official supremacy of      |
|a ship-master, then, by inference,      |
|you will derive the cause of that       |
|peculiarity of sea-life just mentioned. |
|Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab       |
|presided like a mute, maned sea-lion on |
|the white coral beach, surrounded by    |
|his warlike but still deferential cubs. |
|In his own proper turn, each officer    |
|waited to be served. They were as little|
|children before Ahab; and yet, in Ahab, |
|there seemed not to lurk the smallest   |
|social arrogance. With one mind, their  |
|intent eyes all fastened upon the old   |
|man's knife, as he carved the chief dish|
|before him. I do not suppose that for   |
|the world they would have profaned that |
|moment with the slightest observation,  |
|even upon so neutral a topic as the     |
|weather. No! And when reaching out      |
|his knife and fork, between which the   |
|slice of beef was locked, Ahab thereby  |
|motioned Starbuck's plate towards him,  |
|the mate received his meat as though    |
|receiving alms; and cut it tenderly;    |
|and a little started if, perchance, the |
|knife grazed against the plate; and     |
|chewed it noiselessly; and swallowed it,|
|not without circumspection. For, like   |
|the Coronation banquet at Frankfort,    |
|where the German Emperor profoundly     |
|dines with the seven Imperial Electors, |
|so these cabin meals were somehow       |
|solemn meals, eaten in awful silence;   |
|and yet at table old Ahab forbade not   |
|conversation; only he himself was dumb. |
|What a relief it was to choking Stubb,  |
|when a rat made a sudden racket in the  |
|hold below. And poor little Flask, he   |
|was the youngest son, and little boy    |
|of this weary family party. His were    |
|the shinbones of the saline beef; his   |
|would have been the drumsticks. For     |
|Flask to have presumed to help himself, |
|this must have seemed to him tantamount |
|to larceny in the first degree. Had he  |
|helped himself at that table, doubtless,|
|never more would he have been able to   |
|hold his head up in this honest world;  |
|nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab      |
|never forbade him. And had Flask helped |
|himself, the chances were Ahab had never|
|so much as noticed it. Least of all, did|
|Flask presume to help himself to butter.|
|Whether he thought the owners of the    |
|ship denied it to him, on account of its|
|clotting his clear, sunny complexion;   |
|or whether he deemed that, on so long   |
|a voyage in such marketless waters,     |
|butter was at a premium, and therefore  |
|was not for him, a subaltern; however   |
|it was, Flask, alas! was a butterless   |
|man! Another thing. Flask was the last  |
|person down at the dinner, and Flask    |
|is the first man up. Consider! For      |
|hereby Flask's dinner was badly jammed  |
|in point of time. Starbuck and Stubb    |
|both had the start of him; and yet they |
|also have the privilege of lounging in  |
|the rear. If Stubb even, who is but a   |
|peg higher than Flask, happens to have  |
|but a small appetite, and soon shows    |
|symptoms of concluding his repast, then |
|Flask must bestir himself, he will not  |
|get more than three mouthfuls that day; |
|for it is against holy usage for Stubb  |
|to precede Flask to the deck. Therefore |
|it was that Flask once admitted in      |
|private, that ever since he had arisen  |
|to the dignity of an officer, from that |
|moment he had never known what it was   |
|to be otherwise than hungry, more or    |
|less. For what he ate did not so much   |
|relieve his hunger, as keep it immortal |
|in him. Peace and satisfaction, thought |
|Flask, have for ever departed from my   |
|stomach. I am an officer; but, how I    |
|wish I could fish a bit of old-fashioned|
|beef in the forecastle, as I used to    |
|when I was before the mast. There's the |
|fruits of promotion now; there's the    |
|vanity of glory: there's the insanity   |
|of life! Besides, if it were so that    |
|any mere sailor of the Pequod had a     |
|grudge against Flask in Flask's official|
|capacity, all that sailor had to do, in |
|order to obtain ample vengeance, was to |
|go aft at dinner-time, and get a peep   |
|at Flask through the cabin sky-light,   |
|sitting silly and dumfoundered before   |
|awful Ahab. Now, Ahab and his three     |
|mates formed what may be called the     |
|first table in the Pequod's cabin.      |
|After their departure, taking place in  |
|inverted order to their arrival, the    |
|canvas cloth was cleared, or rather     |
|was restored to some hurried order by   |
|the pallid steward. And then the three  |
|harpooneers were bidden to the feast,   |
|they being its residuary legatees. They |
|made a sort of temporary servants'      |
|hall of the high and mighty cabin. In   |
|strange contrast to the hardly tolerable|
|constraint and nameless invisible       |
|domineerings of the captain's table, was|
|the entire care-free license and ease,  |
|the almost frantic democracy of those   |
|inferior fellows the harpooneers. While |
|their masters, the mates, seemed afraid |
|of the sound of the hinges of their     |
|own jaws, the harpooneers chewed their  |
|food with such a relish that there was  |
|a report to it. They dined like lords;  |
|they filled their bellies like Indian   |
|ships all day loading with spices. Such |
|portentous appetites had Queequeg and   |
|Tashtego, that to fill out the vacancies|
|made by the previous repast, often the  |
|pale Dough-Boy was fain to bring on a   |
|great baron of salt-junk, seemingly     |
|quarried out of the solid ox. And if    |
|he were not lively about it, if he did  |
|not go with a nimble hop-skip-and-jump, |
|then Tashtego had an ungentlemanly way  |
|of accelerating him by darting a fork at|
|his back, harpoon-wise. And once Daggoo,|
|seized with a sudden humor, assisted    |
|Dough-Boy's memory by snatching him up  |
|bodily, and thrusting his head into     |
|a great empty wooden trencher, while    |
|Tashtego, knife in hand, began laying   |
|out the circle preliminary to scalping  |
|him. He was naturally a very nervous,   |
|shuddering sort of little fellow, this  |
|bread-faced steward; the progeny of a   |
|bankrupt baker and a hospital nurse.    |
|And what with the standing spectacle    |
|of the black terrific Ahab, and the     |
|periodical tumultuous visitations of    |
|these three savages, Dough-Boy's whole  |
|life was one continual lip-quiver.      |
|Commonly, after seeing the harpooneers  |
|furnished with all things they demanded,|
|he would escape from their clutches     |
|into his little pantry adjoining, and   |
|fearfully peep out at them through the  |
|blinds of its door, till all was over.  |
|It was a sight to see Queequeg seated   |
|over against Tashtego, opposing his     |
|filed teeth to the Indian's: crosswise  |
|to them, Daggoo seated on the floor,    |
|for a bench would have brought his      |
|hearse-plumed head to the low carlines; |
|at every motion of his colossal limbs,  |
|making the low cabin framework to       |
|shake, as when an African elephant      |
|goes passenger in a ship. But for all   |
|this, the great negro was wonderfully   |
|abstemious, not to say dainty. It       |
|seemed hardly possible that by such     |
|comparatively small mouthfuls he could  |
|keep up the vitality diffused through so|
|broad, baronial, and superb a person.   |
|But, doubtless, this noble savage fed   |
|strong and drank deep of the abounding  |
|element of air; and through his dilated |
|nostrils snuffed in the sublime life of |
|the worlds. Not by beef or by bread, are|
|giants made or nourished. But Queequeg, |
|he had a mortal, barbaric smack of the  |
|lip in eating--an ugly sound enough--so |
|much so, that the trembling Dough-Boy   |
|almost looked to see whether any marks  |
|of teeth lurked in his own lean arms.   |
|And when he would hear Tashtego singing |
|out for him to produce himself, that his|
|bones might be picked, the simple-witted|
|steward all but shattered the crockery  |
|hanging round him in the pantry, by     |
|his sudden fits of the palsy. Nor did   |
|the whetstone which the harpooneers     |
|carried in their pockets, for their     |
|lances and other weapons; and with      |
|which whetstones, at dinner, they would |
|ostentatiously sharpen their knives;    |
|that grating sound did not at all tend  |
|to tranquillize poor Dough-Boy. How     |
|could he forget that in his Island days,|
|Queequeg, for one, must certainly have  |
|been guilty of some murderous, convivial|
|indiscretions. Alas! Dough-Boy! hard    |
|fares the white waiter who waits upon   |
|cannibals. Not a napkin should he carry |
|on his arm, but a buckler. In good time,|
|though, to his great delight, the three |
|salt-sea warriors would rise and depart;|
|to his credulous, fable-mongering ears, |
|all their martial bones jingling in them|
|at every step, like Moorish scimetars in|
|scabbards. But, though these barbarians |
|dined in the cabin, and nominally       |
|lived there; still, being anything but  |
|sedentary in their habits, they were    |
|scarcely ever in it except at mealtimes,|
|and just before sleeping-time, when they|
|passed through it to their own peculiar |
|quarters. In this one matter, Ahab      |
|seemed no exception to most American    |
|whale captains, who, as a set, rather   |
|incline to the opinion that by rights   |
|the ship's cabin belongs to them; and   |
|that it is by courtesy alone that       |
|anybody else is, at any time, permitted |
|there. So that, in real truth, the mates|
|and harpooneers of the Pequod might     |
|more properly be said to have lived     |
|out of the cabin than in it. For when   |
|they did enter it, it was something as  |
|a street-door enters a house; turning   |
|inwards for a moment, only to be turned |
|out the next; and, as a permanent       |
|thing, residing in the open air. Nor    |
|did they lose much hereby; in the cabin |
|was no companionship; socially, Ahab    |
|was inaccessible. Though nominally      |
|included in the census of Christendom,  |
|he was still an alien to it. He lived   |
|in the world, as the last of the Grisly |
|Bears lived in settled Missouri. And as |
|when Spring and Summer had departed,    |
|that wild Logan of the woods, burying   |
|himself in the hollow of a tree, lived  |
|out the winter there, sucking his own   |
|paws; so, in his inclement, howling old |
|age, Ahab's soul, shut up in the caved  |
|trunk of his body, there fed upon the   |
|sullen paws of its gloom! It was during |
|the more pleasant weather, that in due  |
|rotation with the other seamen my first |
|mast-head came round. In most American  |
|whalemen the mast-heads are manned      |
|almost simultaneously with the vessel's |
|leaving her port; even though she may   |
|have fifteen thousand miles, and more,  |
|to sail ere reaching her proper cruising|
|ground. And if, after a three, four, or |
|five years' voyage she is drawing nigh  |
|home with anything empty in her--say, an|
|empty vial even--then, her mast-heads   |
|are kept manned to the last; and not    |
|till her skysail-poles sail in among the|
|spires of the port, does she altogether |
|relinquish the hope of capturing one    |
|whale more. Now, as the business of     |
|standing mast-heads, ashore or afloat,  |
|is a very ancient and interesting one,  |
|let us in some measure expatiate here.  |
|I take it, that the earliest standers   |
|of mast-heads were the old Egyptians;   |
|because, in all my researches, I find   |
|none prior to them. For though their    |
|progenitors, the builders of Babel, must|
|doubtless, by their tower, have intended|
|to rear the loftiest mast-head in all   |
|Asia, or Africa either; yet (ere the    |
|final truck was put to it) as that great|
|stone mast of theirs may be said to have|
|gone by the board, in the dread gale of |
|God's wrath; therefore, we cannot give  |
|these Babel builders priority over the  |
|Egyptians. And that the Egyptians were  |
|a nation of mast-head standers, is an   |
|assertion based upon the general belief |
|among archaeologists, that the first    |
|pyramids were founded for astronomical  |
|purposes: a theory singularly supported |
|by the peculiar stair-like formation    |
|of all four sides of those edifices;    |
|whereby, with prodigious long upliftings|
|of their legs, those old astronomers    |
|were wont to mount to the apex, and     |
|sing out for new stars; even as the     |
|look-outs of a modern ship sing out     |
|for a sail, or a whale just bearing in  |
|sight. In Saint Stylites, the famous    |
|Christian hermit of old times, who built|
|him a lofty stone pillar in the desert  |
|and spent the whole latter portion of   |
|his life on its summit, hoisting his    |
|food from the ground with a tackle; in  |
|him we have a remarkable instance of a  |
|dauntless stander-of-mast-heads; who    |
|was not to be driven from his place by  |
|fogs or frosts, rain, hail, or sleet;   |
|but valiantly facing everything out to  |
|the last, literally died at his post. Of|
|modern standers-of-mast-heads we have   |
|but a lifeless set; mere stone, iron,   |
|and bronze men; who, though well capable|
|of facing out a stiff gale, are still   |
|entirely incompetent to the business of |
|singing out upon discovering any strange|
|sight. There is Napoleon; who, upon the |
|top of the column of Vendome, stands    |
|with arms folded, some one hundred and  |
|fifty feet in the air; careless, now,   |
|who rules the decks below; whether Louis|
|Philippe, Louis Blanc, or Louis the     |
|Devil. Great Washington, too, stands    |
|high aloft on his towering main-mast in |
|Baltimore, and like one of Hercules'    |
|pillars, his column marks that point    |
|of human grandeur beyond which few      |
|mortals will go. Admiral Nelson, also,  |
|on a capstan of gun-metal, stands his   |
|mast-head in Trafalgar Square; and ever |
|when most obscured by that London smoke,|
|token is yet given that a hidden hero is|
|there; for where there is smoke, must   |
|be fire. But neither great Washington,  |
|nor Napoleon, nor Nelson, will answer a |
|single hail from below, however madly   |
|invoked to befriend by their counsels   |
|the distracted decks upon which they    |
|gaze; however it may be surmised, that  |
|their spirits penetrate through the     |
|thick haze of the future, and descry    |
|what shoals and what rocks must be      |
|shunned. It may seem unwarrantable to   |
|couple in any respect the mast-head     |
|standers of the land with those of      |
|the sea; but that in truth it is not    |
|so, is plainly evinced by an item for   |
|which Obed Macy, the sole historian     |
|of Nantucket, stands accountable. The   |
|worthy Obed tells us, that in the early |
|times of the whale fishery, ere ships   |
|were regularly launched in pursuit of   |
|the game, the people of that island     |
|erected lofty spars along the sea-coast,|
|to which the look-outs ascended by      |
|means of nailed cleats, something as    |
|fowls go upstairs in a hen-house. A few |
|years ago this same plan was adopted by |
|the Bay whalemen of New Zealand, who,   |
|upon descrying the game, gave notice    |
|to the ready-manned boats nigh the      |
|beach. But this custom has now become   |
|obsolete; turn we then to the one proper|
|mast-head, that of a whale-ship at sea. |
|The three mast-heads are kept manned    |
|from sun-rise to sun-set; the seamen    |
|taking their regular turns (as at the   |
|helm), and relieving each other every   |
|two hours. In the serene weather of the |
|tropics it is exceedingly pleasant the  |
|mast-head; nay, to a dreamy meditative  |
|man it is delightful. There you stand,  |
|a hundred feet above the silent decks,  |
|striding along the deep, as if the masts|
|were gigantic stilts, while beneath     |
|you and between your legs, as it were,  |
|swim the hugest monsters of the sea,    |
|even as ships once sailed between the   |
|boots of the famous Colossus at old     |
|Rhodes. There you stand, lost in the    |
|infinite series of the sea, with nothing|
|ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship |
|indolently rolls; the drowsy trade      |
|winds blow; everything resolves you     |
|into languor. For the most part, in     |
|this tropic whaling life, a sublime     |
|uneventfulness invests you; you hear    |
|no news; read no gazettes; extras with  |
|startling accounts of commonplaces never|
|delude you into unnecessary excitements;|
|you hear of no domestic afflictions;    |
|bankrupt securities; fall of stocks;    |
|are never troubled with the thought of  |
|what you shall have for dinner--for all |
|your meals for three years and more are |
|snugly stowed in casks, and your bill   |
|of fare is immutable. In one of those   |
|southern whalesmen, on a long three or  |
|four years' voyage, as often happens,   |
|the sum of the various hours you spend  |
|at the mast-head would amount to several|
|entire months. And it is much to be     |
|deplored that the place to which you    |
|devote so considerable a portion of     |
|the whole term of your natural life,    |
|should be so sadly destitute of anything|
|approaching to a cosy inhabitiveness, or|
|adapted to breed a comfortable localness|
|of feeling, such as pertains to a bed,  |
|a hammock, a hearse, a sentry box, a    |
|pulpit, a coach, or any other of those  |
|small and snug contrivances in which    |
|men temporarily isolate themselves.     |
|Your most usual point of perch is the   |
|head of the t' gallant-mast, where you  |
|stand upon two thin parallel sticks     |
|(almost peculiar to whalemen) called the|
|t' gallant cross-trees. Here, tossed    |
|about by the sea, the beginner feels    |
|about as cosy as he would standing on   |
|a bull's horns. To be sure, in cold     |
|weather you may carry your house aloft  |
|with you, in the shape of a watch-coat; |
|but properly speaking the thickest      |
|watch-coat is no more of a house than   |
|the unclad body; for as the soul is     |
|glued inside of its fleshy tabernacle,  |
|and cannot freely move about in it,     |
|nor even move out of it, without        |
|running great risk of perishing (like   |
|an ignorant pilgrim crossing the snowy  |
|Alps in winter); so a watch-coat is     |
|not so much of a house as it is a mere  |
|envelope, or additional skin encasing   |
|you. You cannot put a shelf or chest of |
|drawers in your body, and no more can   |
|you make a convenient closet of your    |
|watch-coat. Concerning all this, it is  |
|much to be deplored that the mast-heads |
|of a southern whale ship are unprovided |
|with those enviable little tents or     |
|pulpits, called CROW'S-NESTS, in which  |
|the look-outs of a Greenland whaler are |
|protected from the inclement weather    |
|of the frozen seas. In the fireside     |
|narrative of Captain Sleet, entitled "A |
|Voyage among the Icebergs, in quest of  |
|the Greenland Whale, and incidentally   |
|for the re-discovery of the Lost        |
|Icelandic Colonies of Old Greenland;"   |
|in this admirable volume, all standers  |
|of mast-heads are furnished with a      |
|charmingly circumstantial account of    |
|the then recently invented CROW'S-NEST  |
|of the Glacier, which was the name of   |
|Captain Sleet's good craft. He called   |
|it the SLEET'S CROW'S-NEST, in honour   |
|of himself; he being the original       |
|inventor and patentee, and free from all|
|ridiculous false delicacy, and holding  |
|that if we call our own children after  |
|our own names (we fathers being the     |
|original inventors and patentees), so   |
|likewise should we denominate after     |
|ourselves any other apparatus we may    |
|beget. In shape, the Sleet's crow's-nest|
|is something like a large tierce or     |
|pipe; it is open above, however,        |
|where it is furnished with a movable    |
|side-screen to keep to windward of      |
|your head in a hard gale. Being fixed   |
|on the summit of the mast, you ascend   |
|into it through a little trap-hatch     |
|in the bottom. On the after side, or    |
|side next the stern of the ship, is     |
|a comfortable seat, with a locker       |
|underneath for umbrellas, comforters,   |
|and coats. In front is a leather rack,  |
|in which to keep your speaking trumpet, |
|pipe, telescope, and other nautical     |
|conveniences. When Captain Sleet in     |
|person stood his mast-head in this      |
|crow's-nest of his, he tells us that    |
|he always had a rifle with him (also    |
|fixed in the rack), together with a     |
|powder flask and shot, for the purpose  |
|of popping off the stray narwhales, or  |
|vagrant sea unicorns infesting those    |
|waters; for you cannot successfully     |
|shoot at them from the deck owing to    |
|the resistance of the water, but to     |
|shoot down upon them is a very different|
|thing. Now, it was plainly a labor of   |
|love for Captain Sleet to describe,     |
|as he does, all the little detailed     |
|conveniences of his crow's-nest; but    |
|though he so enlarges upon many of      |
|these, and though he treats us to a very|
|scientific account of his experiments   |
|in this crow's-nest, with a small       |
|compass he kept there for the purpose of|
|counteracting the errors resulting from |
|what is called the "local attraction"   |
|of all binnacle magnets; an error       |
|ascribable to the horizontal vicinity   |
|of the iron in the ship's planks, and   |
|in the Glacier's case, perhaps, to      |
|there having been so many broken-down   |
|blacksmiths among her crew; I say, that |
|though the Captain is very discreet     |
|and scientific here, yet, for all his   |
|learned "binnacle deviations," "azimuth |
|compass observations," and "approximate |
|errors," he knows very well, Captain    |
|Sleet, that he was not so much immersed |
|in those profound magnetic meditations, |
|as to fail being attracted occasionally |
|towards that well replenished little    |
|case-bottle, so nicely tucked in on     |
|one side of his crow's nest, within     |
|easy reach of his hand. Though, upon    |
|the whole, I greatly admire and even    |
|love the brave, the honest, and learned |
|Captain; yet I take it very ill of him  |
|that he should so utterly ignore that   |
|case-bottle, seeing what a faithful     |
|friend and comforter it must have been, |
|while with mittened fingers and hooded  |
|head he was studying the mathematics    |
|aloft there in that bird's nest within  |
|three or four perches of the pole. But  |
|if we Southern whale-fishers are not so |
|snugly housed aloft as Captain Sleet    |
|and his Greenlandmen were; yet that     |
|disadvantage is greatly counter-balanced|
|by the widely contrasting serenity      |
|of those seductive seas in which we     |
|South fishers mostly float. For one,    |
|I used to lounge up the rigging very    |
|leisurely, resting in the top to have   |
|a chat with Queequeg, or any one else   |
|off duty whom I might find there; then  |
|ascending a little way further, and     |
|throwing a lazy leg over the top-sail   |
|yard, take a preliminary view of the    |
|watery pastures, and so at last mount   |
|to my ultimate destination. Let me make |
|a clean breast of it here, and frankly  |
|admit that I kept but sorry guard. With |
|the problem of the universe revolving in|
|me, how could I--being left completely  |
|to myself at such a thought-engendering |
|altitude--how could I but lightly       |
|hold my obligations to observe all      |
|whale-ships' standing orders, "Keep     |
|your weather eye open, and sing out     |
|every time." And let me in this place   |
|movingly admonish you, ye ship-owners   |
|of Nantucket! Beware of enlisting in    |
|your vigilant fisheries any lad with    |
|lean brow and hollow eye; given to      |
|unseasonable meditativeness; and who    |
|offers to ship with the Phaedon instead |
|of Bowditch in his head. Beware of such |
|an one, I say; your whales must be seen |
|before they can be killed; and this     |
|sunken-eyed young Platonist will tow you|
|ten wakes round the world, and never    |
|make you one pint of sperm the richer.  |
|Nor are these monitions at all unneeded.|
|For nowadays, the whale-fishery         |
|furnishes an asylum for many romantic,  |
|melancholy, and absent-minded young men,|
|disgusted with the carking cares of     |
|earth, and seeking sentiment in tar and |
|blubber. Childe Harold not unfrequently |
|perches himself upon the mast-head of   |
|some luckless disappointed whale-ship,  |
|and in moody phrase ejaculates:-- "Roll |
|on, thou deep and dark blue ocean,      |
|roll! Ten thousand blubber-hunters      |
|sweep over thee in vain." Very often do |
|the captains of such ships take those   |
|absent-minded young philosophers to     |
|task, upbraiding them with not feeling  |
|sufficient "interest" in the voyage;    |
|half-hinting that they are so hopelessly|
|lost to all honourable ambition, as that|
|in their secret souls they would rather |
|not see whales than otherwise. But all  |
|in vain; those young Platonists have a  |
|notion that their vision is imperfect;  |
|they are short-sighted; what use, then, |
|to strain the visual nerve? They have   |
|left their opera-glasses at home. "Why, |
|thou monkey," said a harpooneer to one  |
|of these lads, "we've been cruising     |
|now hard upon three years, and thou     |
|hast not raised a whale yet. Whales are |
|scarce as hen's teeth whenever thou     |
|art up here." Perhaps they were; or     |
|perhaps there might have been shoals    |
|of them in the far horizon; but lulled  |
|into such an opium-like listlessness    |
|of vacant, unconscious reverie is this  |
|absent-minded youth by the blending     |
|cadence of waves with thoughts, that at |
|last he loses his identity; takes the   |
|mystic ocean at his feet for the visible|
|image of that deep, blue, bottomless    |
|soul, pervading mankind and nature;     |
|and every strange, half-seen, gliding,  |
|beautiful thing that eludes him; every  |
|dimly-discovered, uprising fin of some  |
|undiscernible form, seems to him the    |
|embodiment of those elusive thoughts    |
|that only people the soul by continually|
|flitting through it. In this enchanted  |
|mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence    |
|it came; becomes diffused through time  |
|and space; like Crammer's sprinkled     |
|Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a    |
|part of every shore the round globe     |
|over. There is no life in thee, now,    |
|except that rocking life imparted by a  |
|gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed   |
|from the sea; by the sea, from the      |
|inscrutable tides of God. But while this|
|sleep, this dream is on ye, move your   |
|foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at |
|all; and your identity comes back in    |
|horror. Over Descartian vortices you    |
|hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the  |
|fairest weather, with one half-throttled|
|shriek you drop through that transparent|
|air into the summer sea, no more to rise|
|for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!  |
|It was not a great while after the      |
|affair of the pipe, that one morning    |
|shortly after breakfast, Ahab, as was   |
|his wont, ascended the cabin-gangway    |
|to the deck. There most sea-captains    |
|usually walk at that hour, as country   |
|gentlemen, after the same meal, take    |
|a few turns in the garden. Soon his     |
|steady, ivory stride was heard, as      |
|to and fro he paced his old rounds,     |
|upon planks so familiar to his tread,   |
|that they were all over dented, like    |
|geological stones, with the peculiar    |
|mark of his walk. Did you fixedly gaze, |
|too, upon that ribbed and dented brow;  |
|there also, you would see still stranger|
|foot-prints--the foot-prints of his one |
|unsleeping, ever-pacing thought. But on |
|the occasion in question, those dents   |
|looked deeper, even as his nervous step |
|that morning left a deeper mark. And,   |
|so full of his thought was Ahab, that   |
|at every uniform turn that he made,     |
|now at the main-mast and now at the     |
|binnacle, you could almost see that     |
|thought turn in him as he turned, and   |
|pace in him as he paced; so completely  |
|possessing him, indeed, that it all     |
|but seemed the inward mould of every    |
|outer movement. "D'ye mark him, Flask?" |
|whispered Stubb; "the chick that's in   |
|him pecks the shell. 'Twill soon be     |
|out." The hours wore on;--Ahab now shut |
|up within his cabin; anon, pacing the   |
|deck, with the same intense bigotry of  |
|purpose in his aspect. It drew near     |
|the close of day. Suddenly he came to   |
|a halt by the bulwarks, and inserting   |
|his bone leg into the auger-hole there, |
|and with one hand grasping a shroud,    |
|he ordered Starbuck to send everybody   |
|aft. "Sir!" said the mate, astonished   |
|at an order seldom or never given on    |
|ship-board except in some extraordinary |
|case. "Send everybody aft," repeated    |
|Ahab. "Mast-heads, there! come down!"   |
|When the entire ship's company were     |
|assembled, and with curious and not     |
|wholly unapprehensive faces, were       |
|eyeing him, for he looked not unlike    |
|the weather horizon when a storm is     |
|coming up, Ahab, after rapidly glancing |
|over the bulwarks, and then darting     |
|his eyes among the crew, started from   |
|his standpoint; and as though not a     |
|soul were nigh him resumed his heavy    |
|turns upon the deck. With bent head and |
|half-slouched hat he continued to pace, |
|unmindful of the wondering whispering   |
|among the men; till Stubb cautiously    |
|whispered to Flask, that Ahab must have |
|summoned them there for the purpose of  |
|witnessing a pedestrian feat. But this  |
|did not last long. Vehemently pausing,  |
|he cried:-- "What do ye do when ye see  |
|a whale, men?" "Sing out for him!" was  |
|the impulsive rejoinder from a score    |
|of clubbed voices. "Good!" cried Ahab,  |
|with a wild approval in his tones;      |
|observing the hearty animation into     |
|which his unexpected question had so    |
|magnetically thrown them. "And what do  |
|ye next, men?" "Lower away, and after   |
|him!" "And what tune is it ye pull to,  |
|men?" "A dead whale or a stove boat!"   |
|More and more strangely and fiercely    |
|glad and approving, grew the countenance|
|of the old man at every shout; while    |
|the mariners began to gaze curiously    |
|at each other, as if marvelling how     |
|it was that they themselves became so   |
|excited at such seemingly purposeless   |
|questions. But, they were all eagerness |
|again, as Ahab, now half-revolving in   |
|his pivot-hole, with one hand reaching  |
|high up a shroud, and tightly, almost   |
|convulsively grasping it, addressed     |
|them thus:-- "All ye mast-headers have  |
|before now heard me give orders about   |
|a white whale. Look ye! d'ye see this   |
|Spanish ounce of gold?"--holding up a   |
|broad bright coin to the sun--"it is a  |
|sixteen dollar piece, men. D'ye see it? |
|Mr. Starbuck, hand me yon top-maul."    |
|While the mate was getting the hammer,  |
|Ahab, without speaking, was slowly      |
|rubbing the gold piece against the      |
|skirts of his jacket, as if to heighten |
|its lustre, and without using any words |
|was meanwhile lowly humming to himself, |
|producing a sound so strangely muffled  |
|and inarticulate that it seemed the     |
|mechanical humming of the wheels of his |
|vitality in him. Receiving the top-maul |
|from Starbuck, he advanced towards the  |
|main-mast with the hammer uplifted in   |
|one hand, exhibiting the gold with the  |
|other, and with a high raised voice     |
|exclaiming: "Whosoever of ye raises me  |
|a white-headed whale with a wrinkled    |
|brow and a crooked jaw; whosoever of ye |
|raises me that white-headed whale, with |
|three holes punctured in his starboard  |
|fluke--look ye, whosoever of ye raises  |
|me that same white whale, he shall have |
|this gold ounce, my boys!" "Huzza!      |
|huzza!" cried the seamen, as with       |
|swinging tarpaulins they hailed the act |
|of nailing the gold to the mast. "It's a|
|white whale, I say," resumed Ahab, as he|
|threw down the topmaul: "a white whale. |
|Skin your eyes for him, men; look sharp |
|for white water; if ye see but a bubble,|
|sing out." All this while Tashtego,     |
|Daggoo, and Queequeg had looked on with |
|even more intense interest and surprise |
|than the rest, and at the mention of    |
|the wrinkled brow and crooked jaw they  |
|had started as if each was separately   |
|touched by some specific recollection.  |
|"Captain Ahab," said Tashtego, "that    |
|white whale must be the same that some  |
|call Moby Dick." "Moby Dick?" shouted   |
|Ahab. "Do ye know the white whale then, |
|Tash?" "Does he fan-tail a little       |
|curious, sir, before he goes down?" said|
|the Gay-Header deliberately. "And has   |
|he a curious spout, too," said Daggoo,  |
|"very bushy, even for a parmacetty,     |
|and mighty quick, Captain Ahab?" "And   |
|he have one, two, three--oh! good many  |
|iron in him hide, too, Captain," cried  |
|Queequeg disjointedly, "all twiske-tee  |
|be-twisk, like him--him--" faltering    |
|hard for a word, and screwing his hand  |
|round and round as though uncorking a   |
|bottle--"like him--him--" "Corkscrew!"  |
|cried Ahab, "aye, Queequeg, the harpoons|
|lie all twisted and wrenched in him;    |
|aye, Daggoo, his spout is a big one,    |
|like a whole shock of wheat, and white  |
|as a pile of our Nantucket wool after   |
|the great annual sheep-shearing; aye,   |
|Tashtego, and he fan-tails like a split |
|jib in a squall. Death and devils! men, |
|it is Moby Dick ye have seen--Moby      |
|Dick--Moby Dick!" "Captain Ahab," said  |
|Starbuck, who, with Stubb and Flask, had|
|thus far been eyeing his superior with  |
|increasing surprise, but at last seemed |
|struck with a thought which somewhat    |
|explained all the wonder. "Captain      |
|Ahab, I have heard of Moby Dick--but    |
|it was not Moby Dick that took off      |
|thy leg?" "Who told thee that?" cried   |
|Ahab; then pausing, "Aye, Starbuck;     |
|aye, my hearties all round; it was      |
|Moby Dick that dismasted me; Moby Dick  |
|that brought me to this dead stump I    |
|stand on now. Aye, aye," he shouted     |
|with a terrific, loud, animal sob, like |
|that of a heart-stricken moose; "Aye,   |
|aye! it was that accursed white whale   |
|that razeed me; made a poor pegging     |
|lubber of me for ever and a day!" Then  |
|tossing both arms, with measureless     |
|imprecations he shouted out: "Aye,      |
|aye! and I'll chase him round Good      |
|Hope, and round the Horn, and round the |
|Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition's |
|flames before I give him up. And this   |
|is what ye have shipped for, men! to    |
|chase that white whale on both sides    |
|of land, and over all sides of earth,   |
|till he spouts black blood and rolls    |
|fin out. What say ye, men, will ye      |
|splice hands on it, now? I think ye do  |
|look brave." "Aye, aye!" shouted the    |
|harpooneers and seamen, running closer  |
|to the excited old man: "A sharp eye    |
|for the white whale; a sharp lance for  |
|Moby Dick!" "God bless ye," he seemed   |
|to half sob and half shout. "God bless  |
|ye, men. Steward! go draw the great     |
|measure of grog. But what's this long   |
|face about, Mr. Starbuck; wilt thou not |
|chase the white whale? art not game     |
|for Moby Dick?" "I am game for his      |
|crooked jaw, and for the jaws of Death  |
|too, Captain Ahab, if it fairly comes   |
|in the way of the business we follow;   |
|but I came here to hunt whales, not my  |
|commander's vengeance. How many barrels |
|will thy vengeance yield thee even if   |
|thou gettest it, Captain Ahab? it will  |
|not fetch thee much in our Nantucket    |
|market." "Nantucket market! Hoot! But   |
|come closer, Starbuck; thou requirest a |
|little lower layer. If money's to be the|
|measurer, man, and the accountants have |
|computed their great counting-house the |
|globe, by girdling it with guineas, one |
|to every three parts of an inch; then,  |
|let me tell thee, that my vengeance     |
|will fetch a great premium HERE!" "He   |
|smites his chest," whispered Stubb,     |
|"what's that for? methinks it rings     |
|most vast, but hollow." "Vengeance      |
|on a dumb brute!" cried Starbuck,       |
|"that simply smote thee from blindest   |
|instinct! Madness! To be enraged with   |
|a dumb thing, Captain Ahab, seems       |
|blasphemous." "Hark ye yet again--the   |
|little lower layer. All visible objects,|
|man, are but as pasteboard masks. But   |
|in each event--in the living act, the   |
|undoubted deed--there, some unknown but |
|still reasoning thing puts forth the    |
|mouldings of its features from behind   |
|the unreasoning mask. If man will       |
|strike, strike through the mask! How can|
|the prisoner reach outside except by    |
|thrusting through the wall? To me, the  |
|white whale is that wall, shoved near   |
|to me. Sometimes I think there's naught |
|beyond. But 'tis enough. He tasks me;   |
|he heaps me; I see in him outrageous    |
|strength, with an inscrutable malice    |
|sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is  |
|chiefly what I hate; and be the white   |
|whale agent, or be the white whale      |
|principal, I will wreak that hate upon  |
|him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man;  |
|I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.   |
|For could the sun do that, then could I |
|do the other; since there is ever a sort|
|of fair play herein, jealousy presiding |
|over all creations. But not my master,  |
|man, is even that fair play. Who's      |
|over me? Truth hath no confines. Take   |
|off thine eye! more intolerable than    |
|fiends' glarings is a doltish stare!    |
|So, so; thou reddenest and palest; my   |
|heat has melted thee to anger-glow.     |
|But look ye, Starbuck, what is said in  |
|heat, that thing unsays itself. There   |
|are men from whom warm words are small  |
|indignity. I meant not to incense       |
|thee. Let it go. Look! see yonder       |
|Turkish cheeks of spotted tawn--living, |
|breathing pictures painted by the sun.  |
|The Pagan leopards--the unrecking and   |
|unworshipping things, that live; and    |
|seek, and give no reasons for the       |
|torrid life they feel! The crew, man,   |
|the crew! Are they not one and all with |
|Ahab, in this matter of the whale? See  |
|Stubb! he laughs! See yonder Chilian!   |
|he snorts to think of it. Stand up amid |
|the general hurricane, thy one tost     |
|sapling cannot, Starbuck! And what is   |
|it? Reckon it. 'Tis but to help strike  |
|a fin; no wondrous feat for Starbuck.   |
|What is it more? From this one poor     |
|hunt, then, the best lance out of all   |
|Nantucket, surely he will not hang back,|
|when every foremast-hand has clutched a |
|whetstone? Ah! constrainings seize thee;|
|I see! the billow lifts thee! Speak, but|
|speak!--Aye, aye! thy silence, then,    |
|THAT voices thee. (ASIDE) Something     |
|shot from my dilated nostrils, he has   |
|inhaled it in his lungs. Starbuck now   |
|is mine; cannot oppose me now, without  |
|rebellion." "God keep me!--keep us      |
|all!" murmured Starbuck, lowly. But     |
|in his joy at the enchanted, tacit      |
|acquiescence of the mate, Ahab did not  |
|hear his foreboding invocation; nor yet |
|the low laugh from the hold; nor yet    |
|the presaging vibrations of the winds   |
|in the cordage; nor yet the hollow flap |
|of the sails against the masts, as for  |
|a moment their hearts sank in. For      |
|again Starbuck's downcast eyes lighted  |
|up with the stubbornness of life; the   |
|subterranean laugh died away; the       |
|winds blew on; the sails filled out;    |
|the ship heaved and rolled as before.   |
|Ah, ye admonitions and warnings! why    |
|stay ye not when ye come? But rather    |
|are ye predictions than warnings, ye    |
|shadows! Yet not so much predictions    |
|from without, as verifications of the   |
|foregoing things within. For with little|
|external to constrain us, the innermost |
|necessities in our being, these still   |
|drive us on. "The measure! the measure!"|
|cried Ahab. Receiving the brimming      |
|pewter, and turning to the harpooneers, |
|he ordered them to produce their        |
|weapons. Then ranging them before him   |
|near the capstan, with their harpoons   |
|in their hands, while his three mates   |
|stood at his side with their lances, and|
|the rest of the ship's company formed   |
|a circle round the group; he stood for  |
|an instant searchingly eyeing every     |
|man of his crew. But those wild eyes    |
|met his, as the bloodshot eyes of the   |
|prairie wolves meet the eye of their    |
|leader, ere he rushes on at their head  |
|in the trail of the bison; but, alas!   |
|only to fall into the hidden snare of   |
|the Indian. "Drink and pass!" he cried, |
|handing the heavy charged flagon to     |
|the nearest seaman. "The crew alone     |
|now drink. Round with it, round! Short  |
|draughts--long swallows, men; 'tis      |
|hot as Satan's hoof. So, so; it goes    |
|round excellently. It spiralizes in     |
|ye; forks out at the serpent-snapping   |
|eye. Well done; almost drained. That    |
|way it went, this way it comes. Hand it |
|me--here's a hollow! Men, ye seem the   |
|years; so brimming life is gulped and   |
|gone. Steward, refill! "Attend now, my  |
|braves. I have mustered ye all round    |
|this capstan; and ye mates, flank me    |
|with your lances; and ye harpooneers,   |
|stand there with your irons; and ye,    |
|stout mariners, ring me in, that I may  |
|in some sort revive a noble custom of   |
|my fisherman fathers before me. O men,  |
|you will yet see that--Ha! boy, come    |
|back? bad pennies come not sooner. Hand |
|it me. Why, now, this pewter had run    |
|brimming again, were't not thou St.     |
|Vitus' imp--away, thou ague! "Advance,  |
|ye mates! Cross your lances full before |
|me. Well done! Let me touch the axis."  |
|So saying, with extended arm, he grasped|
|the three level, radiating lances at    |
|their crossed centre; while so doing,   |
|suddenly and nervously twitched them;   |
|meanwhile, glancing intently from       |
|Starbuck to Stubb; from Stubb to Flask. |
|It seemed as though, by some nameless,  |
|interior volition, he would fain have   |
|shocked into them the same fiery emotion|
|accumulated within the Leyden jar of    |
|his own magnetic life. The three mates  |
|quailed before his strong, sustained,   |
|and mystic aspect. Stubb and Flask      |
|looked sideways from him; the honest    |
|eye of Starbuck fell downright. "In     |
|vain!" cried Ahab; "but, maybe, 'tis    |
|well. For did ye three but once take    |
|the full-forced shock, then mine own    |
|electric thing, THAT had perhaps expired|
|from out me. Perchance, too, it would   |
|have dropped ye dead. Perchance ye need |
|it not. Down lances! And now, ye mates, |
|I do appoint ye three cupbearers to my  |
|three pagan kinsmen there--yon three    |
|most honourable gentlemen and noblemen, |
|my valiant harpooneers. Disdain the     |
|task? What, when the great Pope washes  |
|the feet of beggars, using his tiara    |
|for ewer? Oh, my sweet cardinals! your  |
|own condescension, THAT shall bend ye   |
|to it. I do not order ye; ye will it.   |
|Cut your seizings and draw the poles,   |
|ye harpooneers!" Silently obeying       |
|the order, the three harpooneers now    |
|stood with the detached iron part of    |
|their harpoons, some three feet long,   |
|held, barbs up, before him. "Stab me    |
|not with that keen steel! Cant them;    |
|cant them over! know ye not the goblet  |
|end? Turn up the socket! So, so; now,   |
|ye cup-bearers, advance. The irons!     |
|take them; hold them while I fill!"     |
|Forthwith, slowly going from one officer|
|to the other, he brimmed the harpoon    |
|sockets with the fiery waters from the  |
|pewter. "Now, three to three, ye stand. |
|Commend the murderous chalices! Bestow  |
|them, ye who are now made parties to    |
|this indissoluble league. Ha! Starbuck! |
|but the deed is done! Yon ratifying     |
|sun now waits to sit upon it. Drink,    |
|ye harpooneers! drink and swear, ye     |
|men that man the deathful whaleboat's   |
|bow--Death to Moby Dick! God hunt us    |
|all, if we do not hunt Moby Dick to     |
|his death!" The long, barbed steel      |
|goblets were lifted; and to cries and   |
|maledictions against the white whale,   |
|the spirits were simultaneously quaffed |
|down with a hiss. Starbuck paled, and   |
|turned, and shivered. Once more, and    |
|finally, the replenished pewter went the|
|rounds among the frantic crew; when,    |
|waving his free hand to them, they all  |
|dispersed; and Ahab retired within his  |
|cabin. I leave a white and turbid wake; |
|pale waters, paler cheeks, where'er I   |
|sail. The envious billows sidelong swell|
|to whelm my track; let them; but first I|
|pass. Yonder, by ever-brimming goblet's |
|rim, the warm waves blush like wine. The|
|gold brow plumbs the blue. The diver    |
|sun--slow dived from noon--goes down;   |
|my soul mounts up! she wearies with her |
|endless hill. Is, then, the crown too   |
|heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of   |
|Lombardy. Yet is it bright with many    |
|a gem; I the wearer, see not its far    |
|flashings; but darkly feel that I wear  |
|that, that dazzlingly confounds. 'Tis   |
|iron--that I know--not gold. 'Tis split,|
|too--that I feel; the jagged edge galls |
|me so, my brain seems to beat against   |
|the solid metal; aye, steel skull, mine;|
|the sort that needs no helmet in the    |
|most brain-battering fight! Dry heat    |
|upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as the |
|sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset |
|soothed. No more. This lovely light,    |
|it lights not me; all loveliness is     |
|anguish to me, since I can ne'er enjoy. |
|Gifted with the high perception, I lack |
|the low, enjoying power; damned, most   |
|subtly and most malignantly! damned in  |
|the midst of Paradise! Good night--good |
|night! (WAVING HIS HAND, HE MOVES FROM  |
|THE WINDOW.) 'Twas not so hard a task.  |
|I thought to find one stubborn, at the  |
|least; but my one cogged circle fits    |
|into all their various wheels, and they |
|revolve. Or, if you will, like so many  |
|ant-hills of powder, they all stand     |
|before me; and I their match. Oh, hard! |
|that to fire others, the match itself   |
|must needs be wasting! What I've dared, |
|I've willed; and what I've willed, I'll |
|do! They think me mad--Starbuck does;   |
|but I'm demoniac, I am madness maddened!|
|That wild madness that's only calm to   |
|comprehend itself! The prophecy was     |
|that I should be dismembered; and--Aye! |
|I lost this leg. I now prophesy that    |
|I will dismember my dismemberer. Now,   |
|then, be the prophet and the fulfiller  |
|one. That's more than ye, ye great gods,|
|ever were. I laugh and hoot at ye, ye   |
|cricket-players, ye pugilists, ye deaf  |
|Burkes and blinded Bendigoes! I will not|
|say as schoolboys do to bullies--Take   |
|some one of your own size; don't pommel |
|ME! No, ye've knocked me down, and I am |
|up again; but YE have run and hidden.   |
|Come forth from behind your cotton      |
|bags! I have no long gun to reach ye.   |
|Come, Ahab's compliments to ye; come    |
|and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? |
|ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve     |
|yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me?|
|The path to my fixed purpose is laid    |
|with iron rails, whereon my soul is     |
|grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges,  |
|through the rifled hearts of mountains, |
|under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush!|
|Naught's an obstacle, naught's an angle |
|to the iron way! My soul is more than   |
|matched; she's overmanned; and by a     |
|madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity |
|should ground arms on such a field! But |
|he drilled deep down, and blasted all   |
|my reason out of me! I think I see his  |
|impious end; but feel that I must help  |
|him to it. Will I, nill I, the ineffable|
|thing has tied me to him; tows me with a|
|cable I have no knife to cut. Horrible  |
|old man! Who's over him, he cries;--aye,|
|he would be a democrat to all above;    |
|look, how he lords it over all below!   |
|Oh! I plainly see my miserable          |
|office,--to obey, rebelling; and worse  |
|yet, to hate with touch of pity! For in |
|his eyes I read some lurid woe would    |
|shrivel me up, had I it. Yet is there   |
|hope. Time and tide flow wide. The      |
|hated whale has the round watery world  |
|to swim in, as the small gold-fish has  |
|its glassy globe. His heaven-insulting  |
|purpose, God may wedge aside. I would   |
|up heart, were it not like lead. But my |
|whole clock's run down; my heart the    |
|all-controlling weight, I have no key to|
|lift again. Oh, God! to sail with such  |
|a heathen crew that have small touch of |
|human mothers in them! Whelped somewhere|
|by the sharkish sea. The white whale is |
|their demigorgon. Hark! the infernal    |
|orgies! that revelry is forward! mark   |
|the unfaltering silence aft! Methinks   |
|it pictures life. Foremost through      |
|the sparkling sea shoots on the gay,    |
|embattled, bantering bow, but only to   |
|drag dark Ahab after it, where he broods|
|within his sternward cabin, builded over|
|the dead water of the wake, and further |
|on, hunted by its wolfish gurglings. The|
|long howl thrills me through! Peace! ye |
|revellers, and set the watch! Oh, life! |
|'tis in an hour like this, with soul    |
|beat down and held to knowledge,--as    |
|wild, untutored things are forced to    |
|feed--Oh, life! 'tis now that I do feel |
|the latent horror in thee! but 'tis not |
|me! that horror's out of me! and with   |
|the soft feeling of the human in me,    |
|yet will I try to fight ye, ye grim,    |
|phantom futures! Stand by me, hold me,  |
|bind me, O ye blessed influences! Ha!   |
|ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat!--I've |
|been thinking over it ever since, and   |
|that ha, ha's the final consequence.    |
|Why so? Because a laugh's the wisest,   |
|easiest answer to all that's queer; and |
|come what will, one comfort's always    |
|left--that unfailing comfort is, it's   |
|all predestinated. I heard not all his  |
|talk with Starbuck; but to my poor eye  |
|Starbuck then looked something as I the |
|other evening felt. Be sure the old     |
|Mogul has fixed him, too. I twigged     |
|it, knew it; had had the gift, might    |
|readily have prophesied it--for when    |
|I clapped my eye upon his skull I saw   |
|it. Well, Stubb, WISE Stubb--that's my  |
|title--well, Stubb, what of it, Stubb?  |
|Here's a carcase. I know not all that   |
|may be coming, but be it what it will,  |
|I'll go to it laughing. Such a waggish  |
|leering as lurks in all your horribles! |
|I feel funny. Fa, la! lirra, skirra!    |
|What's my juicy little pear at home     |
|doing now? Crying its eyes out?--Giving |
|a party to the last arrived harpooneers,|
|I dare say, gay as a frigate's pennant, |
|and so am I--fa, la! lirra, skirra!     |
|Oh-- We'll drink to-night with hearts   |
|as light, To love, as gay and fleeting  |
|As bubbles that swim, on the beaker's   |
|brim, And break on the lips while       |
|meeting. A brave stave that--who calls? |
|Mr. Starbuck? Aye, aye, sir--(ASIDE)    |
|he's my superior, he has his too, if    |
|I'm not mistaken.--Aye, aye, sir, just  |
|through with this job--coming. Farewell |
|and adieu to you, Spanish ladies!       |
|Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of    |
|Spain! Our captain's commanded.-- 1ST   |
|NANTUCKET SAILOR. Oh, boys, don't be    |
|sentimental; it's bad for the digestion!|
|Take a tonic, follow me! (SINGS, AND    |
|ALL FOLLOW) Our captain stood upon      |
|the deck, A spy-glass in his hand, A    |
|viewing of those gallant whales That    |
|blew at every strand. Oh, your tubs in  |
|your boats, my boys, And by your braces |
|stand, And we'll have one of those fine |
|whales, Hand, boys, over hand! So, be   |
|cheery, my lads! may your hearts never  |
|fail! While the bold harpooner is       |
|striking the whale! MATE'S VOICE FROM   |
|THE QUARTER-DECK. Eight bells there,    |
|forward! 2ND NANTUCKET SAILOR. Avast    |
|the chorus! Eight bells there! d'ye     |
|hear, bell-boy? Strike the bell eight,  |
|thou Pip! thou blackling! and let me    |
|call the watch. I've the sort of mouth  |
|for that--the hogshead mouth. So, so,   |
|(THRUSTS HIS HEAD DOWN THE SCUTTLE,)    |
|Star-bo-l-e-e-n-s, a-h-o-y! Eight bells |
|there below! Tumble up! DUTCH SAILOR.   |
|Grand snoozing to-night, maty; fat      |
|night for that. I mark this in our old  |
|Mogul's wine; it's quite as deadening   |
|to some as filliping to others. We      |
|sing; they sleep--aye, lie down there,  |
|like ground-tier butts. At 'em again!   |
|There, take this copper-pump, and hail  |
|'em through it. Tell 'em to avast       |
|dreaming of their lasses. Tell 'em it's |
|the resurrection; they must kiss their  |
|last, and come to judgment. That's the  |
|way--THAT'S it; thy throat ain't spoiled|
|with eating Amsterdam butter. FRENCH    |
|SAILOR. Hist, boys! let's have a jig or |
|two before we ride to anchor in Blanket |
|Bay. What say ye? There comes the other |
|watch. Stand by all legs! Pip! little   |
|Pip! hurrah with your tambourine! PIP.  |
|(SULKY AND SLEEPY) Don't know where     |
|it is. FRENCH SAILOR. Beat thy belly,   |
|then, and wag thy ears. Jig it, men, I  |
|say; merry's the word; hurrah! Damn me, |
|won't you dance? Form, now, Indian-file,|
|and gallop into the double-shuffle?     |
|Throw yourselves! Legs! legs! ICELAND   |
|SAILOR. I don't like your floor, maty;  |
|it's too springy to my taste. I'm used  |
|to ice-floors. I'm sorry to throw cold  |
|water on the subject; but excuse me.    |
|MALTESE SAILOR. Me too; where's your    |
|girls? Who but a fool would take his    |
|left hand by his right, and say to      |
|himself, how d'ye do? Partners! I must  |
|have partners! SICILIAN SAILOR. Aye;    |
|girls and a green!--then I'll hop with  |
|ye; yea, turn grasshopper! LONG-ISLAND  |
|SAILOR. Well, well, ye sulkies, there's |
|plenty more of us. Hoe corn when you    |
|may, say I. All legs go to harvest      |
|soon. Ah! here comes the music; now     |
|for it! AZORE SAILOR. (ASCENDING, AND   |
|PITCHING THE TAMBOURINE UP THE SCUTTLE.)|
|Here you are, Pip; and there's the      |
|windlass-bitts; up you mount! Now,      |
|boys! (THE HALF OF THEM DANCE TO THE    |
|TAMBOURINE; SOME GO BELOW; SOME SLEEP OR|
|LIE AMONG THE COILS OF RIGGING. OATHS   |
|A-PLENTY.) AZORE SAILOR. (DANCING) Go   |
|it, Pip! Bang it, bell-boy! Rig it, dig |
|it, stig it, quig it, bell-boy! Make    |
|fire-flies; break the jinglers! PIP.    |
|Jinglers, you say?--there goes another, |
|dropped off; I pound it so. CHINA       |
|SAILOR. Rattle thy teeth, then, and     |
|pound away; make a pagoda of thyself.   |
|Merry-mad! Hold up thy hoop, Pip, till  |
|I jump through it! Split jibs! tear     |
|yourselves! TASHTEGO. (QUIETLY SMOKING) |
|That's a white man; he calls that fun:  |
|humph! I save my sweat. OLD MANX SAILOR.|
|I wonder whether those jolly lads       |
|bethink them of what they are dancing   |
|over. I'll dance over your grave, I     |
|will--that's the bitterest threat of    |
|your night-women, that beat head-winds  |
|round corners. O Christ! to think of    |
|the green navies and the green-skulled  |
|crews! Well, well; belike the whole     |
|world's a ball, as you scholars have it;|
|and so 'tis right to make one ballroom  |
|of it. Dance on, lads, you're young; I  |
|was once. 3D NANTUCKET SAILOR. Spell    |
|oh!--whew! this is worse than pulling   |
|after whales in a calm--give us a whiff,|
|Tash. (THEY CEASE DANCING, AND GATHER IN|
|CLUSTERS. MEANTIME THE SKY DARKENS--THE |
|WIND RISES.) LASCAR SAILOR. By Brahma!  |
|boys, it'll be douse sail soon. The     |
|sky-born, high-tide Ganges turned to    |
|wind! Thou showest thy black brow,      |
|Seeva! MALTESE SAILOR. (RECLINING AND   |
|SHAKING HIS CAP.) It's the waves--the   |
|snow's caps turn to jig it now.         |
|They'll shake their tassels soon. Now   |
|would all the waves were women, then    |
|I'd go drown, and chassee with them     |
|evermore! There's naught so sweet on    |
|earth--heaven may not match it!--as     |
|those swift glances of warm, wild bosoms|
|in the dance, when the over-arboring    |
|arms hide such ripe, bursting grapes.   |
|SICILIAN SAILOR. (RECLINING.) Tell      |
|me not of it! Hark ye, lad--fleet       |
|interlacings of the limbs--lithe        |
|swayings--coyings--flutterings! lip!    |
|heart! hip! all graze: unceasing touch  |
|and go! not taste, observe ye, else come|
|satiety. Eh, Pagan? (NUDGING.) TAHITAN  |
|SAILOR. (RECLINING ON A MAT.) Hail, holy|
|nakedness of our dancing girls!--the    |
|Heeva-Heeva! Ah! low veiled, high palmed|
|Tahiti! I still rest me on thy mat,     |
|but the soft soil has slid! I saw thee  |
|woven in the wood, my mat! green the    |
|first day I brought ye thence; now worn |
|and wilted quite. Ah me!--not thou nor  |
|I can bear the change! How then, if so  |
|be transplanted to yon sky? Hear I the  |
|roaring streams from Pirohitee's peak of|
|spears, when they leap down the crags   |
|and drown the villages?--The blast! the |
|blast! Up, spine, and meet it! (LEAPS   |
|TO HIS FEET.) PORTUGUESE SAILOR. How    |
|the sea rolls swashing 'gainst the      |
|side! Stand by for reefing, hearties!   |
|the winds are just crossing swords,     |
|pell-mell they'll go lunging presently. |
|DANISH SAILOR. Crack, crack, old ship!  |
|so long as thou crackest, thou holdest! |
|Well done! The mate there holds ye to   |
|it stiffly. He's no more afraid than    |
|the isle fort at Cattegat, put there    |
|to fight the Baltic with storm-lashed   |
|guns, on which the sea-salt cakes! 4TH  |
|NANTUCKET SAILOR. He has his orders,    |
|mind ye that. I heard old Ahab tell him |
|he must always kill a squall, something |
|as they burst a waterspout with a       |
|pistol--fire your ship right into it!   |
|ENGLISH SAILOR. Blood! but that old     |
|man's a grand old cove! We are the lads |
|to hunt him up his whale! ALL. Aye! aye!|
|OLD MANX SAILOR. How the three pines    |
|shake! Pines are the hardest sort of    |
|tree to live when shifted to any other  |
|soil, and here there's none but the     |
|crew's cursed clay. Steady, helmsman!   |
|steady. This is the sort of weather     |
|when brave hearts snap ashore, and      |
|keeled hulls split at sea. Our captain  |
|has his birthmark; look yonder, boys,   |
|there's another in the sky--lurid-like, |
|ye see, all else pitch black. DAGGOO.   |
|What of that? Who's afraid of black's   |
|afraid of me! I'm quarried out of it!   |
|SPANISH SAILOR. (ASIDE.) He wants to    |
|bully, ah!--the old grudge makes me     |
|touchy (ADVANCING.) Aye, harpooneer,    |
|thy race is the undeniable dark side    |
|of mankind--devilish dark at that. No   |
|offence. DAGGOO (GRIMLY). None. ST.     |
|JAGO'S SAILOR. That Spaniard's mad or   |
|drunk. But that can't be, or else in his|
|one case our old Mogul's fire-waters are|
|somewhat long in working. 5TH NANTUCKET |
|SAILOR. What's that I saw--lightning?   |
|Yes. SPANISH SAILOR. No; Daggoo showing |
|his teeth. DAGGOO (SPRINGING). Swallow  |
|thine, mannikin! White skin, white      |
|liver! SPANISH SAILOR (MEETING HIM).    |
|Knife thee heartily! big frame, small   |
|spirit! ALL. A row! a row! a row!       |
|TASHTEGO (WITH A WHIFF). A row a'low,   |
|and a row aloft--Gods and men--both     |
|brawlers! Humph! BELFAST SAILOR. A row! |
|arrah a row! The Virgin be blessed, a   |
|row! Plunge in with ye! ENGLISH SAILOR. |
|Fair play! Snatch the Spaniard's knife! |
|A ring, a ring! OLD MANX SAILOR. Ready  |
|formed. There! the ringed horizon. In   |
|that ring Cain struck Abel. Sweet work, |
|right work! No? Why then, God, mad'st   |
|thou the ring? MATE'S VOICE FROM THE    |
|QUARTER-DECK. Hands by the halyards!    |
|in top-gallant sails! Stand by to reef  |
|topsails! ALL. The squall! the squall!  |
|jump, my jollies! (THEY SCATTER.) PIP   |
|(SHRINKING UNDER THE WINDLASS). Jollies?|
|Lord help such jollies! Crish, crash!   |
|there goes the jib-stay! Blang-whang!   |
|God! Duck lower, Pip, here comes the    |
|royal yard! It's worse than being in the|
|whirled woods, the last day of the year!|
|Who'd go climbing after chestnuts now?  |
|But there they go, all cursing, and here|
|I don't. Fine prospects to 'em; they're |
|on the road to heaven. Hold on hard!    |
|Jimmini, what a squall! But those chaps |
|there are worse yet--they are your white|
|squalls, they. White squalls? white     |
|whale, shirr! shirr! Here have I heard  |
|all their chat just now, and the white  |
|whale--shirr! shirr!--but spoken of     |
|once! and only this evening--it makes me|
|jingle all over like my tambourine--that|
|anaconda of an old man swore 'em in to  |
|hunt him! Oh, thou big white God aloft  |
|there somewhere in yon darkness, have   |
|mercy on this small black boy down here;|
|preserve him from all men that have no  |
|bowels to feel fear! I, Ishmael, was    |
|one of that crew; my shouts had gone up |
|with the rest; my oath had been welded  |
|with theirs; and stronger I shouted,    |
|and more did I hammer and clinch my     |
|oath, because of the dread in my soul.  |
|A wild, mystical, sympathetical feeling |
|was in me; Ahab's quenchless feud       |
|seemed mine. With greedy ears I learned |
|the history of that murderous monster   |
|against whom I and all the others had   |
|taken our oaths of violence and revenge.|
|For some time past, though at intervals |
|only, the unaccompanied, secluded White |
|Whale had haunted those uncivilized     |
|seas mostly frequented by the Sperm     |
|Whale fishermen. But not all of them    |
|knew of his existence; only a few of    |
|them, comparatively, had knowingly seen |
|him; while the number who as yet had    |
|actually and knowingly given battle to  |
|him, was small indeed. For, owing to    |
|the large number of whale-cruisers; the |
|disorderly way they were sprinkled over |
|the entire watery circumference, many   |
|of them adventurously pushing their     |
|quest along solitary latitudes, so as   |
|seldom or never for a whole twelvemonth |
|or more on a stretch, to encounter a    |
|single news-telling sail of any sort;   |
|the inordinate length of each separate  |
|voyage; the irregularity of the times of|
|sailing from home; all these, with other|
|circumstances, direct and indirect,     |
|long obstructed the spread through      |
|the whole world-wide whaling-fleet of   |
|the special individualizing tidings     |
|concerning Moby Dick. It was hardly     |
|to be doubted, that several vessels     |
|reported to have encountered, at such   |
|or such a time, or on such or such a    |
|meridian, a Sperm Whale of uncommon     |
|magnitude and malignity, which whale,   |
|after doing great mischief to his       |
|assailants, had completely escaped them;|
|to some minds it was not an unfair      |
|presumption, I say, that the whale in   |
|question must have been no other than   |
|Moby Dick. Yet as of late the Sperm     |
|Whale fishery had been marked by various|
|and not unfrequent instances of great   |
|ferocity, cunning, and malice in the    |
|monster attacked; therefore it was,     |
|that those who by accident ignorantly   |
|gave battle to Moby Dick; such hunters, |
|perhaps, for the most part, were content|
|to ascribe the peculiar terror he bred, |
|more, as it were, to the perils of the  |
|Sperm Whale fishery at large, than to   |
|the individual cause. In that way,      |
|mostly, the disastrous encounter between|
|Ahab and the whale had hitherto been    |
|popularly regarded. And as for those    |
|who, previously hearing of the White    |
|Whale, by chance caught sight of him;   |
|in the beginning of the thing they had  |
|every one of them, almost, as boldly    |
|and fearlessly lowered for him, as for  |
|any other whale of that species. But    |
|at length, such calamities did ensue    |
|in these assaults--not restricted to    |
|sprained wrists and ankles, broken      |
|limbs, or devouring amputations--but    |
|fatal to the last degree of fatality;   |
|those repeated disastrous repulses, all |
|accumulating and piling their terrors   |
|upon Moby Dick; those things had gone   |
|far to shake the fortitude of many      |
|brave hunters, to whom the story of the |
|White Whale had eventually come. Nor    |
|did wild rumors of all sorts fail to    |
|exaggerate, and still the more horrify  |
|the true histories of these deadly      |
|encounters. For not only do fabulous    |
|rumors naturally grow out of the        |
|very body of all surprising terrible    |
|events,--as the smitten tree gives      |
|birth to its fungi; but, in maritime    |
|life, far more than in that of terra    |
|firma, wild rumors abound, wherever     |
|there is any adequate reality for them  |
|to cling to. And as the sea surpasses   |
|the land in this matter, so the whale   |
|fishery surpasses every other sort of   |
|maritime life, in the wonderfulness     |
|and fearfulness of the rumors which     |
|sometimes circulate there. For not only |
|are whalemen as a body unexempt from    |
|that ignorance and superstitiousness    |
|hereditary to all sailors; but of all   |
|sailors, they are by all odds the most  |
|directly brought into contact with      |
|whatever is appallingly astonishing in  |
|the sea; face to face they not only     |
|eye its greatest marvels, but, hand to  |
|jaw, give battle to them. Alone, in     |
|such remotest waters, that though you   |
|sailed a thousand miles, and passed a   |
|thousand shores, you would not come to  |
|any chiseled hearth-stone, or aught     |
|hospitable beneath that part of the     |
|sun; in such latitudes and longitudes,  |
|pursuing too such a calling as he does, |
|the whaleman is wrapped by influences   |
|all tending to make his fancy pregnant  |
|with many a mighty birth. No wonder,    |
|then, that ever gathering volume from   |
|the mere transit over the widest watery |
|spaces, the outblown rumors of the White|
|Whale did in the end incorporate with   |
|themselves all manner of morbid hints,  |
|and half-formed foetal suggestions of   |
|supernatural agencies, which eventually |
|invested Moby Dick with new terrors     |
|unborrowed from anything that visibly   |
|appears. So that in many cases such     |
|a panic did he finally strike, that     |
|few who by those rumors, at least,      |
|had heard of the White Whale, few of    |
|those hunters were willing to encounter |
|the perils of his jaw. But there were   |
|still other and more vital practical    |
|influences at work. Not even at the     |
|present day has the original prestige   |
|of the Sperm Whale, as fearfully        |
|distinguished from all other species of |
|the leviathan, died out of the minds    |
|of the whalemen as a body. There are    |
|those this day among them, who, though  |
|intelligent and courageous enough in    |
|offering battle to the Greenland or     |
|Right whale, would perhaps--either      |
|from professional inexperience, or      |
|incompetency, or timidity, decline a    |
|contest with the Sperm Whale; at any    |
|rate, there are plenty of whalemen,     |
|especially among those whaling nations  |
|not sailing under the American flag, who|
|have never hostilely encountered the    |
|Sperm Whale, but whose sole knowledge   |
|of the leviathan is restricted to the   |
|ignoble monster primitively pursued in  |
|the North; seated on their hatches,     |
|these men will hearken with a childish  |
|fireside interest and awe, to the wild, |
|strange tales of Southern whaling. Nor  |
|is the pre-eminent tremendousness of    |
|the great Sperm Whale anywhere more     |
|feelingly comprehended, than on board   |
|of those prows which stem him. And      |
|as if the now tested reality of his     |
|might had in former legendary times     |
|thrown its shadow before it; we find    |
|some book naturalists--Olassen and      |
|Povelson--declaring the Sperm Whale     |
|not only to be a consternation to       |
|every other creature in the sea, but    |
|also to be so incredibly ferocious as   |
|continually to be athirst for human     |
|blood. Nor even down to so late a time  |
|as Cuvier's, were these or almost       |
|similar impressions effaced. For in     |
|his Natural History, the Baron himself  |
|affirms that at sight of the Sperm      |
|Whale, all fish (sharks included) are   |
|"struck with the most lively terrors,"  |
|and "often in the precipitancy of their |
|flight dash themselves against the      |
|rocks with such violence as to cause    |
|instantaneous death." And however the   |
|general experiences in the fishery may  |
|amend such reports as these; yet in     |
|their full terribleness, even to the    |
|bloodthirsty item of Povelson, the      |
|superstitious belief in them is, in     |
|some vicissitudes of their vocation,    |
|revived in the minds of the hunters.    |
|So that overawed by the rumors and      |
|portents concerning him, not a few of   |
|the fishermen recalled, in reference    |
|to Moby Dick, the earlier days of       |
|the Sperm Whale fishery, when it was    |
|oftentimes hard to induce long practised|
|Right whalemen to embark in the perils  |
|of this new and daring warfare; such    |
|men protesting that although other      |
|leviathans might be hopefully pursued,  |
|yet to chase and point lance at such    |
|an apparition as the Sperm Whale was    |
|not for mortal man. That to attempt it, |
|would be inevitably to be torn into a   |
|quick eternity. On this head, there     |
|are some remarkable documents that may  |
|be consulted. Nevertheless, some there  |
|were, who even in the face of these     |
|things were ready to give chase to Moby |
|Dick; and a still greater number who,   |
|chancing only to hear of him distantly  |
|and vaguely, without the specific       |
|details of any certain calamity, and    |
|without superstitious accompaniments,   |
|were sufficiently hardy not to flee from|
|the battle if offered. One of the wild  |
|suggestions referred to, as at last     |
|coming to be linked with the White Whale|
|in the minds of the superstitiously     |
|inclined, was the unearthly conceit     |
|that Moby Dick was ubiquitous; that     |
|he had actually been encountered in     |
|opposite latitudes at one and the same  |
|instant of time. Nor, credulous as such |
|minds must have been, was this conceit  |
|altogether without some faint show of   |
|superstitious probability. For as the   |
|secrets of the currents in the seas have|
|never yet been divulged, even to the    |
|most erudite research; so the hidden    |
|ways of the Sperm Whale when beneath    |
|the surface remain, in great part,      |
|unaccountable to his pursuers; and from |
|time to time have originated the most   |
|curious and contradictory speculations  |
|regarding them, especially concerning   |
|the mystic modes whereby, after sounding|
|to a great depth, he transports himself |
|with such vast swiftness to the most    |
|widely distant points. It is a thing    |
|well known to both American and English |
|whale-ships, and as well a thing placed |
|upon authoritative record years ago by  |
|Scoresby, that some whales have been    |
|captured far north in the Pacific, in   |
|whose bodies have been found the barbs  |
|of harpoons darted in the Greenland     |
|seas. Nor is it to be gainsaid, that    |
|in some of these instances it has been  |
|declared that the interval of time      |
|between the two assaults could not      |
|have exceeded very many days. Hence,    |
|by inference, it has been believed      |
|by some whalemen, that the Nor' West    |
|Passage, so long a problem to man, was  |
|never a problem to the whale. So that   |
|here, in the real living experience     |
|of living men, the prodigies related    |
|in old times of the inland Strello      |
|mountain in Portugal (near whose top    |
|there was said to be a lake in which    |
|the wrecks of ships floated up to the   |
|surface); and that still more wonderful |
|story of the Arethusa fountain near     |
|Syracuse (whose waters were believed    |
|to have come from the Holy Land by an   |
|underground passage); these fabulous    |
|narrations are almost fully equalled    |
|by the realities of the whalemen.       |
|Forced into familiarity, then, with     |
|such prodigies as these; and knowing    |
|that after repeated, intrepid assaults, |
|the White Whale had escaped alive; it   |
|cannot be much matter of surprise that  |
|some whalemen should go still further   |
|in their superstitions; declaring Moby  |
|Dick not only ubiquitous, but immortal  |
|(for immortality is but ubiquity in     |
|time); that though groves of spears     |
|should be planted in his flanks, he     |
|would still swim away unharmed; or      |
|if indeed he should ever be made to     |
|spout thick blood, such a sight would   |
|be but a ghastly deception; for again   |
|in unensanguined billows hundreds of    |
|leagues away, his unsullied jet would   |
|once more be seen. But even stripped    |
|of these supernatural surmisings,       |
|there was enough in the earthly make    |
|and incontestable character of the      |
|monster to strike the imagination with  |
|unwonted power. For, it was not so      |
|much his uncommon bulk that so much     |
|distinguished him from other sperm      |
|whales, but, as was elsewhere thrown    |
|out--a peculiar snow-white wrinkled     |
|forehead, and a high, pyramidical       |
|white hump. These were his prominent    |
|features; the tokens whereby, even      |
|in the limitless, uncharted seas,       |
|he revealed his identity, at a long     |
|distance, to those who knew him. The    |
|rest of his body was so streaked, and   |
|spotted, and marbled with the same      |
|shrouded hue, that, in the end, he had  |
|gained his distinctive appellation      |
|of the White Whale; a name, indeed,     |
|literally justified by his vivid aspect,|
|when seen gliding at high noon through  |
|a dark blue sea, leaving a milky-way    |
|wake of creamy foam, all spangled       |
|with golden gleamings. Nor was it his   |
|unwonted magnitude, nor his remarkable  |
|hue, nor yet his deformed lower jaw,    |
|that so much invested the whale with    |
|natural terror, as that unexampled,     |
|intelligent malignity which, according  |
|to specific accounts, he had over and   |
|over again evinced in his assaults.     |
|More than all, his treacherous retreats |
|struck more of dismay than perhaps aught|
|else. For, when swimming before his     |
|exulting pursuers, with every apparent  |
|symptom of alarm, he had several times  |
|been known to turn round suddenly, and, |
|bearing down upon them, either stave    |
|their boats to splinters, or drive them |
|back in consternation to their ship.    |
|Already several fatalities had attended |
|his chase. But though similar disasters,|
|however little bruited ashore, were by  |
|no means unusual in the fishery; yet,   |
|in most instances, such seemed the      |
|White Whale's infernal aforethought of  |
|ferocity, that every dismembering or    |
|death that he caused, was not wholly    |
|regarded as having been inflicted by an |
|unintelligent agent. Judge, then, to    |
|what pitches of inflamed, distracted    |
|fury the minds of his more desperate    |
|hunters were impelled, when amid the    |
|chips of chewed boats, and the sinking  |
|limbs of torn comrades, they swam out of|
|the white curds of the whale's direful  |
|wrath into the serene, exasperating     |
|sunlight, that smiled on, as if at a    |
|birth or a bridal. His three boats      |
|stove around him, and oars and men both |
|whirling in the eddies; one captain,    |
|seizing the line-knife from his broken  |
|prow, had dashed at the whale, as an    |
|Arkansas duellist at his foe, blindly   |
|seeking with a six inch blade to reach  |
|the fathom-deep life of the whale. That |
|captain was Ahab. And then it was, that |
|suddenly sweeping his sickle-shaped     |
|lower jaw beneath him, Moby Dick had    |
|reaped away Ahab's leg, as a mower a    |
|blade of grass in the field. No turbaned|
|Turk, no hired Venetian or Malay, could |
|have smote him with more seeming malice.|
|Small reason was there to doubt, then,  |
|that ever since that almost fatal       |
|encounter, Ahab had cherished a wild    |
|vindictiveness against the whale, all   |
|the more fell for that in his frantic   |
|morbidness he at last came to identify  |
|with him, not only all his bodily woes, |
|but all his intellectual and spiritual  |
|exasperations. The White Whale swam     |
|before him as the monomaniac incarnation|
|of all those malicious agencies which   |
|some deep men feel eating in them, till |
|they are left living on with half a     |
|heart and half a lung. That intangible  |
|malignity which has been from the       |
|beginning; to whose dominion even the   |
|modern Christians ascribe one-half of   |
|the worlds; which the ancient Ophites   |
|of the east reverenced in their statue  |
|devil;--Ahab did not fall down and      |
|worship it like them; but deliriously   |
|transferring its idea to the abhorred   |
|white whale, he pitted himself, all     |
|mutilated, against it. All that most    |
|maddens and torments; all that stirs    |
|up the lees of things; all truth with   |
|malice in it; all that cracks the sinews|
|and cakes the brain; all the subtle     |
|demonisms of life and thought; all evil,|
|to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified,|
|and made practically assailable in Moby |
|Dick. He piled upon the whale's white   |
|hump the sum of all the general rage    |
|and hate felt by his whole race from    |
|Adam down; and then, as if his chest had|
|been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's |
|shell upon it. It is not probable that  |
|this monomania in him took its instant  |
|rise at the precise time of his bodily  |
|dismemberment. Then, in darting at the  |
|monster, knife in hand, he had but given|
|loose to a sudden, passionate, corporal |
|animosity; and when he received the     |
|stroke that tore him, he probably but   |
|felt the agonizing bodily laceration,   |
|but nothing more. Yet, when by this     |
|collision forced to turn towards home,  |
|and for long months of days and weeks,  |
|Ahab and anguish lay stretched together |
|in one hammock, rounding in mid winter  |
|that dreary, howling Patagonian Cape;   |
|then it was, that his torn body and     |
|gashed soul bled into one another; and  |
|so interfusing, made him mad. That it   |
|was only then, on the homeward voyage,  |
|after the encounter, that the final     |
|monomania seized him, seems all but     |
|certain from the fact that, at intervals|
|during the passage, he was a raving     |
|lunatic; and, though unlimbed of a leg, |
|yet such vital strength yet lurked in   |
|his Egyptian chest, and was moreover    |
|intensified by his delirium, that his   |
|mates were forced to lace him fast,     |
|even there, as he sailed, raving in his |
|hammock. In a strait-jacket, he swung to|
|the mad rockings of the gales. And, when|
|running into more sufferable latitudes, |
|the ship, with mild stun'sails spread,  |
|floated across the tranquil tropics,    |
|and, to all appearances, the old man's  |
|delirium seemed left behind him with    |
|the Cape Horn swells, and he came forth |
|from his dark den into the blessed light|
|and air; even then, when he bore that   |
|firm, collected front, however pale,    |
|and issued his calm orders once again;  |
|and his mates thanked God the direful   |
|madness was now gone; even then, Ahab,  |
|in his hidden self, raved on. Human     |
|madness is oftentimes a cunning and most|
|feline thing. When you think it fled, it|
|may have but become transfigured into   |
|some still subtler form. Ahab's full    |
|lunacy subsided not, but deepeningly    |
|contracted; like the unabated Hudson,   |
|when that noble Northman flows narrowly,|
|but unfathomably through the Highland   |
|gorge. But, as in his narrow-flowing    |
|monomania, not one jot of Ahab's broad  |
|madness had been left behind; so in     |
|that broad madness, not one jot of his  |
|great natural intellect had perished.   |
|That before living agent, now became the|
|living instrument. If such a furious    |
|trope may stand, his special lunacy     |
|stormed his general sanity, and carried |
|it, and turned all its concentred cannon|
|upon its own mad mark; so that far from |
|having lost his strength, Ahab, to that |
|one end, did now possess a thousand fold|
|more potency than ever he had sanely    |
|brought to bear upon any one reasonable |
|object. This is much; yet Ahab's larger,|
|darker, deeper part remains unhinted.   |
|But vain to popularize profundities,    |
|and all truth is profound. Winding far  |
|down from within the very heart of this |
|spiked Hotel de Cluny where we here     |
|stand--however grand and wonderful, now |
|quit it;--and take your way, ye nobler, |
|sadder souls, to those vast Roman       |
|halls of Thermes; where far beneath     |
|the fantastic towers of man's upper     |
|earth, his root of grandeur, his whole  |
|awful essence sits in bearded state; an |
|antique buried beneath antiquities, and |
|throned on torsoes! So with a broken    |
|throne, the great gods mock that captive|
|king; so like a Caryatid, he patient    |
|sits, upholding on his frozen brow the  |
|piled entablatures of ages. Wind ye     |
|down there, ye prouder, sadder souls!   |
|question that proud, sad king! A family |
|likeness! aye, he did beget ye, ye young|
|exiled royalties; and from your grim    |
|sire only will the old State-secret     |
|come. Now, in his heart, Ahab had some  |
|glimpse of this, namely: all my means   |
|are sane, my motive and my object mad.  |
|Yet without power to kill, or change,   |
|or shun the fact; he likewise knew that |
|to mankind he did long dissemble; in    |
|some sort, did still. But that thing    |
|of his dissembling was only subject to  |
|his perceptibility, not to his will     |
|determinate. Nevertheless, so well did  |
|he succeed in that dissembling, that    |
|when with ivory leg he stepped ashore   |
|at last, no Nantucketer thought him     |
|otherwise than but naturally grieved,   |
|and that to the quick, with the terrible|
|casualty which had overtaken him. The   |
|report of his undeniable delirium at sea|
|was likewise popularly ascribed to a    |
|kindred cause. And so too, all the added|
|moodiness which always afterwards, to   |
|the very day of sailing in the Pequod   |
|on the present voyage, sat brooding on  |
|his brow. Nor is it so very unlikely,   |
|that far from distrusting his fitness   |
|for another whaling voyage, on account  |
|of such dark symptoms, the calculating  |
|people of that prudent isle were        |
|inclined to harbor the conceit, that    |
|for those very reasons he was all the   |
|better qualified and set on edge, for   |
|a pursuit so full of rage and wildness  |
|as the bloody hunt of whales. Gnawed    |
|within and scorched without, with the   |
|infixed, unrelenting fangs of some      |
|incurable idea; such an one, could he be|
|found, would seem the very man to dart  |
|his iron and lift his lance against the |
|most appalling of all brutes. Or, if for|
|any reason thought to be corporeally    |
|incapacitated for that, yet such an     |
|one would seem superlatively competent  |
|to cheer and howl on his underlings     |
|to the attack. But be all this as it    |
|may, certain it is, that with the mad   |
|secret of his unabated rage bolted up   |
|and keyed in him, Ahab had purposely    |
|sailed upon the present voyage with the |
|one only and all-engrossing object of   |
|hunting the White Whale. Had any one    |
|of his old acquaintances on shore but   |
|half dreamed of what was lurking in him |
|then, how soon would their aghast and   |
|righteous souls have wrenched the ship  |
|from such a fiendish man! They were     |
|bent on profitable cruises, the profit  |
|to be counted down in dollars from the  |
|mint. He was intent on an audacious,    |
|immitigable, and supernatural revenge.  |
|Here, then, was this grey-headed,       |
|ungodly old man, chasing with curses    |
|a Job's whale round the world, at the   |
|head of a crew, too, chiefly made up of |
|mongrel renegades, and castaways, and   |
|cannibals--morally enfeebled also, by   |
|the incompetence of mere unaided virtue |
|or right-mindedness in Starbuck, the    |
|invunerable jollity of indifference and |
|recklessness in Stubb, and the pervading|
|mediocrity in Flask. Such a crew, so    |
|officered, seemed specially picked and  |
|packed by some infernal fatality to     |
|help him to his monomaniac revenge.     |
|How it was that they so aboundingly     |
|responded to the old man's ire--by what |
|evil magic their souls were possessed,  |
|that at times his hate seemed almost    |
|theirs; the White Whale as much their   |
|insufferable foe as his; how all this   |
|came to be--what the White Whale was    |
|to them, or how to their unconscious    |
|understandings, also, in some dim,      |
|unsuspected way, he might have seemed   |
|the gliding great demon of the seas of  |
|life,--all this to explain, would be    |
|to dive deeper than Ishmael can go.     |
|The subterranean miner that works in    |
|us all, how can one tell whither leads  |
|his shaft by the ever shifting, muffled |
|sound of his pick? Who does not feel the|
|irresistible arm drag? What skiff in tow|
|of a seventy-four can stand still? For  |
|one, I gave myself up to the abandonment|
|of the time and the place; but while    |
|yet all a-rush to encounter the whale,  |
|could see naught in that brute but the  |
|deadliest ill. What the white whale     |
|was to Ahab, has been hinted; what, at  |
|times, he was to me, as yet remains     |
|unsaid. Aside from those more obvious   |
|considerations touching Moby Dick,      |
|which could not but occasionally awaken |
|in any man's soul some alarm, there     |
|was another thought, or rather vague,   |
|nameless horror concerning him, which   |
|at times by its intensity completely    |
|overpowered all the rest; and yet so    |
|mystical and well nigh ineffable was    |
|it, that I almost despair of putting it |
|in a comprehensible form. It was the    |
|whiteness of the whale that above all   |
|things appalled me. But how can I hope  |
|to explain myself here; and yet, in     |
|some dim, random way, explain myself I  |
|must, else all these chapters might be  |
|naught. Though in many natural objects, |
|whiteness refiningly enhances beauty,   |
|as if imparting some special virtue     |
|of its own, as in marbles, japonicas,   |
|and pearls; and though various nations  |
|have in some way recognised a certain   |
|royal preeminence in this hue; even     |
|the barbaric, grand old kings of Pegu   |
|placing the title "Lord of the White    |
|Elephants" above all their other        |
|magniloquent ascriptions of dominion;   |
|and the modern kings of Siam unfurling  |
|the same snow-white quadruped in the    |
|royal standard; and the Hanoverian flag |
|bearing the one figure of a snow-white  |
|charger; and the great Austrian Empire, |
|Caesarian, heir to overlording Rome,    |
|having for the imperial colour the      |
|same imperial hue; and though this      |
|pre-eminence in it applies to the       |
|human race itself, giving the white     |
|man ideal mastership over every dusky   |
|tribe; and though, besides, all this,   |
|whiteness has been even made significant|
|of gladness, for among the Romans a     |
|white stone marked a joyful day; and    |
|though in other mortal sympathies and   |
|symbolizings, this same hue is made     |
|the emblem of many touching, noble      |
|things--the innocence of brides, the    |
|benignity of age; though among the Red  |
|Men of America the giving of the white  |
|belt of wampum was the deepest pledge of|
|honour; though in many climes, whiteness|
|typifies the majesty of Justice in the  |
|ermine of the Judge, and contributes    |
|to the daily state of kings and queens  |
|drawn by milk-white steeds; though even |
|in the higher mysteries of the most     |
|august religions it has been made the   |
|symbol of the divine spotlessness and   |
|power; by the Persian fire worshippers, |
|the white forked flame being held the   |
|holiest on the altar; and in the Greek  |
|mythologies, Great Jove himself being   |
|made incarnate in a snow-white bull;    |
|and though to the noble Iroquois, the   |
|midwinter sacrifice of the sacred White |
|Dog was by far the holiest festival of  |
|their theology, that spotless, faithful |
|creature being held the purest envoy    |
|they could send to the Great Spirit     |
|with the annual tidings of their own    |
|fidelity; and though directly from the  |
|Latin word for white, all Christian     |
|priests derive the name of one part of  |
|their sacred vesture, the alb or tunic, |
|worn beneath the cassock; and though    |
|among the holy pomps of the Romish      |
|faith, white is specially employed in   |
|the celebration of the Passion of our   |
|Lord; though in the Vision of St. John, |
|white robes are given to the redeemed,  |
|and the four-and-twenty elders stand    |
|clothed in white before the great-white |
|throne, and the Holy One that sitteth   |
|there white like wool; yet for all these|
|accumulated associations, with whatever |
|is sweet, and honourable, and sublime,  |
|there yet lurks an elusive something in |
|the innermost idea of this hue, which   |
|strikes more of panic to the soul than  |
|that redness which affrights in blood.  |
|This elusive quality it is, which       |
|causes the thought of whiteness, when   |
|divorced from more kindly associations, |
|and coupled with any object terrible in |
|itself, to heighten that terror to the  |
|furthest bounds. Witness the white bear |
|of the poles, and the white shark of the|
|tropics; what but their smooth, flaky   |
|whiteness makes them the transcendent   |
|horrors they are? That ghastly whiteness|
|it is which imparts such an abhorrent   |
|mildness, even more loathsome than      |
|terrific, to the dumb gloating of their |
|aspect. So that not the fierce-fanged   |
|tiger in his heraldic coat can so       |
|stagger courage as the white-shrouded   |
|bear or shark. With reference to the    |
|Polar bear, it may possibly be urged    |
|by him who would fain go still deeper   |
|into this matter, that it is not the    |
|whiteness, separately regarded, which   |
|heightens the intolerable hideousness   |
|of that brute; for, analysed, that      |
|heightened hideousness, it might be     |
|said, only rises from the circumstance, |
|that the irresponsible ferociousness    |
|of the creature stands invested in the  |
|fleece of celestial innocence and love; |
|and hence, by bringing together two     |
|such opposite emotions in our minds,    |
|the Polar bear frightens us with so     |
|unnatural a contrast. But even assuming |
|all this to be true; yet, were it       |
|not for the whiteness, you would not    |
|have that intensified terror. As for    |
|the white shark, the white gliding      |
|ghostliness of repose in that creature, |
|when beheld in his ordinary moods,      |
|strangely tallies with the same quality |
|in the Polar quadruped. This peculiarity|
|is most vividly hit by the French in    |
|the name they bestow upon that fish.    |
|The Romish mass for the dead begins     |
|with "Requiem eternam" (eternal rest),  |
|whence REQUIEM denominating the mass    |
|itself, and any other funeral music.    |
|Now, in allusion to the white, silent   |
|stillness of death in this shark, and   |
|the mild deadliness of his habits,      |
|the French call him REQUIN. Bethink     |
|thee of the albatross, whence come      |
|those clouds of spiritual wonderment    |
|and pale dread, in which that white     |
|phantom sails in all imaginations? Not  |
|Coleridge first threw that spell; but   |
|God's great, unflattering laureate,     |
|Nature. I remember the first albatross  |
|I ever saw. It was during a prolonged   |
|gale, in waters hard upon the Antarctic |
|seas. From my forenoon watch below, I   |
|ascended to the overclouded deck; and   |
|there, dashed upon the main hatches,    |
|I saw a regal, feathery thing of        |
|unspotted whiteness, and with a hooked, |
|Roman bill sublime. At intervals,       |
|it arched forth its vast archangel      |
|wings, as if to embrace some holy ark.  |
|Wondrous flutterings and throbbings     |
|shook it. Though bodily unharmed, it    |
|uttered cries, as some king's ghost     |
|in supernatural distress. Through its   |
|inexpressible, strange eyes, methought  |
|I peeped to secrets which took hold     |
|of God. As Abraham before the angels,   |
|I bowed myself; the white thing was     |
|so white, its wings so wide, and in     |
|those for ever exiled waters, I had     |
|lost the miserable warping memories of  |
|traditions and of towns. Long I gazed   |
|at that prodigy of plumage. I cannot    |
|tell, can only hint, the things that    |
|darted through me then. But at last I   |
|awoke; and turning, asked a sailor what |
|bird was this. A goney, he replied.     |
|Goney! never had heard that name before;|
|is it conceivable that this glorious    |
|thing is utterly unknown to men ashore! |
|never! But some time after, I learned   |
|that goney was some seaman's name for   |
|albatross. So that by no possibility    |
|could Coleridge's wild Rhyme have       |
|had aught to do with those mystical     |
|impressions which were mine, when I saw |
|that bird upon our deck. For neither    |
|had I then read the Rhyme, nor knew     |
|the bird to be an albatross. Yet, in    |
|saying this, I do but indirectly burnish|
|a little brighter the noble merit of    |
|the poem and the poet. I assert, then,  |
|that in the wondrous bodily whiteness   |
|of the bird chiefly lurks the secret of |
|the spell; a truth the more evinced in  |
|this, that by a solecism of terms there |
|are birds called grey albatrosses; and  |
|these I have frequently seen, but never |
|with such emotions as when I beheld the |
|Antarctic fowl. But how had the mystic  |
|thing been caught? Whisper it not, and I|
|will tell; with a treacherous hook and  |
|line, as the fowl floated on the sea.   |
|At last the Captain made a postman of   |
|it; tying a lettered, leathern tally    |
|round its neck, with the ship's time    |
|and place; and then letting it escape.  |
|But I doubt not, that leathern tally,   |
|meant for man, was taken off in Heaven, |
|when the white fowl flew to join the    |
|wing-folding, the invoking, and adoring |
|cherubim! Most famous in our Western    |
|annals and Indian traditions is that    |
|of the White Steed of the Prairies;     |
|a magnificent milk-white charger,       |
|large-eyed, small-headed, bluff-chested,|
|and with the dignity of a thousand      |
|monarchs in his lofty, overscorning     |
|carriage. He was the elected Xerxes     |
|of vast herds of wild horses, whose     |
|pastures in those days were only        |
|fenced by the Rocky Mountains and the   |
|Alleghanies. At their flaming head he   |
|westward trooped it like that chosen    |
|star which every evening leads on the   |
|hosts of light. The flashing cascade    |
|of his mane, the curving comet of his   |
|tail, invested him with housings more   |
|resplendent than gold and silver-beaters|
|could have furnished him. A most        |
|imperial and archangelical apparition   |
|of that unfallen, western world, which  |
|to the eyes of the old trappers and     |
|hunters revived the glories of those    |
|primeval times when Adam walked majestic|
|as a god, bluff-browed and fearless as  |
|this mighty steed. Whether marching     |
|amid his aides and marshals in the van  |
|of countless cohorts that endlessly     |
|streamed it over the plains, like an    |
|Ohio; or whether with his circumambient |
|subjects browsing all around at the     |
|horizon, the White Steed gallopingly    |
|reviewed them with warm nostrils        |
|reddening through his cool milkiness; in|
|whatever aspect he presented himself,   |
|always to the bravest Indians he was    |
|the object of trembling reverence and   |
|awe. Nor can it be questioned from what |
|stands on legendary record of this      |
|noble horse, that it was his spiritual  |
|whiteness chiefly, which so clothed     |
|him with divineness; and that this      |
|divineness had that in it which, though |
|commanding worship, at the same time    |
|enforced a certain nameless terror. But |
|there are other instances where this    |
|whiteness loses all that accessory and  |
|strange glory which invests it in the   |
|White Steed and Albatross. What is it   |
|that in the Albino man so peculiarly    |
|repels and often shocks the eye, as that|
|sometimes he is loathed by his own kith |
|and kin! It is that whiteness which     |
|invests him, a thing expressed by the   |
|name he bears. The Albino is as well    |
|made as other men--has no substantive   |
|deformity--and yet this mere aspect     |
|of all-pervading whiteness makes him    |
|more strangely hideous than the ugliest |
|abortion. Why should this be so? Nor,   |
|in quite other aspects, does Nature in  |
|her least palpable but not the less     |
|malicious agencies, fail to enlist among|
|her forces this crowning attribute of   |
|the terrible. From its snowy aspect, the|
|gauntleted ghost of the Southern Seas   |
|has been denominated the White Squall.  |
|Nor, in some historic instances, has the|
|art of human malice omitted so potent   |
|an auxiliary. How wildly it heightens   |
|the effect of that passage in Froissart,|
|when, masked in the snowy symbol of     |
|their faction, the desperate White      |
|Hoods of Ghent murder their bailiff in  |
|the market-place! Nor, in some things,  |
|does the common, hereditary experience  |
|of all mankind fail to bear witness     |
|to the supernaturalism of this hue.     |
|It cannot well be doubted, that the     |
|one visible quality in the aspect of    |
|the dead which most appals the gazer,   |
|is the marble pallor lingering there;   |
|as if indeed that pallor were as much   |
|like the badge of consternation in the  |
|other world, as of mortal trepidation   |
|here. And from that pallor of the       |
|dead, we borrow the expressive hue of   |
|the shroud in which we wrap them. Nor   |
|even in our superstitions do we fail    |
|to throw the same snowy mantle round    |
|our phantoms; all ghosts rising in a    |
|milk-white fog--Yea, while these terrors|
|seize us, let us add, that even the     |
|king of terrors, when personified by    |
|the evangelist, rides on his pallid     |
|horse. Therefore, in his other moods,   |
|symbolize whatever grand or gracious    |
|thing he will by whiteness, no man can  |
|deny that in its profoundest idealized  |
|significance it calls up a peculiar     |
|apparition to the soul. But though      |
|without dissent this point be fixed,    |
|how is mortal man to account for it? To |
|analyse it, would seem impossible. Can  |
|we, then, by the citation of some of    |
|those instances wherein this thing of   |
|whiteness--though for the time either   |
|wholly or in great part stripped of all |
|direct associations calculated to impart|
|to it aught fearful, but nevertheless,  |
|is found to exert over us the same      |
|sorcery, however modified;--can we thus |
|hope to light upon some chance clue     |
|to conduct us to the hidden cause we    |
|seek? Let us try. But in a matter like  |
|this, subtlety appeals to subtlety,     |
|and without imagination no man can      |
|follow another into these halls. And    |
|though, doubtless, some at least of     |
|the imaginative impressions about to    |
|be presented may have been shared by    |
|most men, yet few perhaps were entirely |
|conscious of them at the time, and      |
|therefore may not be able to recall     |
|them now. Why to the man of untutored   |
|ideality, who happens to be but loosely |
|acquainted with the peculiar character  |
|of the day, does the bare mention of    |
|Whitsuntide marshal in the fancy such   |
|long, dreary, speechless processions    |
|of slow-pacing pilgrims, down-cast and  |
|hooded with new-fallen snow? Or, to the |
|unread, unsophisticated Protestant of   |
|the Middle American States, why does the|
|passing mention of a White Friar or a   |
|White Nun, evoke such an eyeless statue |
|in the soul? Or what is there apart from|
|the traditions of dungeoned warriors and|
|kings (which will not wholly account    |
|for it) that makes the White Tower of   |
|London tell so much more strongly on the|
|imagination of an untravelled American, |
|than those other storied structures,    |
|its neighbors--the Byward Tower, or     |
|even the Bloody? And those sublimer     |
|towers, the White Mountains of New      |
|Hampshire, whence, in peculiar moods,   |
|comes that gigantic ghostliness over    |
|the soul at the bare mention of that    |
|name, while the thought of Virginia's   |
|Blue Ridge is full of a soft, dewy,     |
|distant dreaminess? Or why, irrespective|
|of all latitudes and longitudes, does   |
|the name of the White Sea exert such    |
|a spectralness over the fancy, while    |
|that of the Yellow Sea lulls us with    |
|mortal thoughts of long lacquered mild  |
|afternoons on the waves, followed by the|
|gaudiest and yet sleepiest of sunsets?  |
|Or, to choose a wholly unsubstantial    |
|instance, purely addressed to the       |
|fancy, why, in reading the old fairy    |
|tales of Central Europe, does "the tall |
|pale man" of the Hartz forests, whose   |
|changeless pallor unrustlingly glides   |
|through the green of the groves--why is |
|this phantom more terrible than all the |
|whooping imps of the Blocksburg? Nor is |
|it, altogether, the remembrance of her  |
|cathedral-toppling earthquakes; nor the |
|stampedoes of her frantic seas; nor the |
|tearlessness of arid skies that never   |
|rain; nor the sight of her wide field of|
|leaning spires, wrenched cope-stones,   |
|and crosses all adroop (like canted     |
|yards of anchored fleets); and her      |
|suburban avenues of house-walls lying   |
|over upon each other, as a tossed pack  |
|of cards;--it is not these things alone |
|which make tearless Lima, the strangest,|
|saddest city thou can'st see. For Lima  |
|has taken the white veil; and there is  |
|a higher horror in this whiteness of    |
|her woe. Old as Pizarro, this whiteness |
|keeps her ruins for ever new; admits    |
|not the cheerful greenness of complete  |
|decay; spreads over her broken ramparts |
|the rigid pallor of an apoplexy that    |
|fixes its own distortions. I know       |
|that, to the common apprehension, this  |
|phenomenon of whiteness is not confessed|
|to be the prime agent in exaggerating   |
|the terror of objects otherwise         |
|terrible; nor to the unimaginative      |
|mind is there aught of terror in those  |
|appearances whose awfulness to another  |
|mind almost solely consists in this one |
|phenomenon, especially when exhibited   |
|under any form at all approaching to    |
|muteness or universality. What I mean   |
|by these two statements may perhaps be  |
|respectively elucidated by the following|
|examples. First: The mariner, when      |
|drawing nigh the coasts of foreign      |
|lands, if by night he hear the roar     |
|of breakers, starts to vigilance, and   |
|feels just enough of trepidation to     |
|sharpen all his faculties; but under    |
|precisely similar circumstances, let him|
|be called from his hammock to view his  |
|ship sailing through a midnight sea of  |
|milky whiteness--as if from encircling  |
|headlands shoals of combed white bears  |
|were swimming round him, then he feels  |
|a silent, superstitious dread; the      |
|shrouded phantom of the whitened waters |
|is horrible to him as a real ghost; in  |
|vain the lead assures him he is still   |
|off soundings; heart and helm they both |
|go down; he never rests till blue water |
|is under him again. Yet where is the    |
|mariner who will tell thee, "Sir, it    |
|was not so much the fear of striking    |
|hidden rocks, as the fear of that       |
|hideous whiteness that so stirred me?"  |
|Second: To the native Indian of Peru,   |
|the continual sight of the snowhowdahed |
|Andes conveys naught of dread, except,  |
|perhaps, in the mere fancying of the    |
|eternal frosted desolateness reigning   |
|at such vast altitudes, and the natural |
|conceit of what a fearfulness it would  |
|be to lose oneself in such inhuman      |
|solitudes. Much the same is it with     |
|the backwoodsman of the West, who with  |
|comparative indifference views an       |
|unbounded prairie sheeted with driven   |
|snow, no shadow of tree or twig to break|
|the fixed trance of whiteness. Not so   |
|the sailor, beholding the scenery of    |
|the Antarctic seas; where at times,     |
|by some infernal trick of legerdemain   |
|in the powers of frost and air, he,     |
|shivering and half shipwrecked, instead |
|of rainbows speaking hope and solace    |
|to his misery, views what seems a       |
|boundless churchyard grinning upon      |
|him with its lean ice monuments and     |
|splintered crosses. But thou sayest,    |
|methinks that white-lead chapter about  |
|whiteness is but a white flag hung out  |
|from a craven soul; thou surrenderest   |
|to a hypo, Ishmael. Tell me, why this   |
|strong young colt, foaled in some       |
|peaceful valley of Vermont, far removed |
|from all beasts of prey--why is it that |
|upon the sunniest day, if you but shake |
|a fresh buffalo robe behind him, so     |
|that he cannot even see it, but only    |
|smells its wild animal muskiness--why   |
|will he start, snort, and with bursting |
|eyes paw the ground in phrensies of     |
|affright? There is no remembrance in    |
|him of any gorings of wild creatures    |
|in his green northern home, so that     |
|the strange muskiness he smells cannot  |
|recall to him anything associated with  |
|the experience of former perils; for    |
|what knows he, this New England colt, of|
|the black bisons of distant Oregon? No; |
|but here thou beholdest even in a dumb  |
|brute, the instinct of the knowledge    |
|of the demonism in the world. Though    |
|thousands of miles from Oregon, still   |
|when he smells that savage musk, the    |
|rending, goring bison herds are as      |
|present as to the deserted wild foal of |
|the prairies, which this instant they   |
|may be trampling into dust. Thus, then, |
|the muffled rollings of a milky sea; the|
|bleak rustlings of the festooned frosts |
|of mountains; the desolate shiftings of |
|the windrowed snows of prairies; all    |
|these, to Ishmael, are as the shaking   |
|of that buffalo robe to the frightened  |
|colt! Though neither knows where lie    |
|the nameless things of which the mystic |
|sign gives forth such hints; yet with   |
|me, as with the colt, somewhere those   |
|things must exist. Though in many of    |
|its aspects this visible world seems    |
|formed in love, the invisible spheres   |
|were formed in fright. But not yet      |
|have we solved the incantation of this  |
|whiteness, and learned why it appeals   |
|with such power to the soul; and more   |
|strange and far more portentous--why,   |
|as we have seen, it is at once the most |
|meaning symbol of spiritual things,     |
|nay, the very veil of the Christian's   |
|Deity; and yet should be as it is, the  |
|intensifying agent in things the most   |
|appalling to mankind. Is it that by     |
|its indefiniteness it shadows forth     |
|the heartless voids and immensities of  |
|the universe, and thus stabs us from    |
|behind with the thought of annihilation,|
|when beholding the white depths of      |
|the milky way? Or is it, that as in     |
|essence whiteness is not so much a      |
|colour as the visible absence of colour;|
|and at the same time the concrete of    |
|all colours; is it for these reasons    |
|that there is such a dumb blankness,    |
|full of meaning, in a wide landscape    |
|of snows--a colourless, all-colour      |
|of atheism from which we shrink? And    |
|when we consider that other theory of   |
|the natural philosophers, that all      |
|other earthly hues--every stately or    |
|lovely emblazoning--the sweet tinges    |
|of sunset skies and woods; yea, and     |
|the gilded velvets of butterflies, and  |
|the butterfly cheeks of young girls;    |
|all these are but subtile deceits, not  |
|actually inherent in substances, but    |
|only laid on from without; so that      |
|all deified Nature absolutely paints    |
|like the harlot, whose allurements      |
|cover nothing but the charnel-house     |
|within; and when we proceed further,    |
|and consider that the mystical cosmetic |
|which produces every one of her hues,   |
|the great principle of light, for ever  |
|remains white or colourless in itself,  |
|and if operating without medium upon    |
|matter, would touch all objects, even   |
|tulips and roses, with its own blank    |
|tinge--pondering all this, the palsied  |
|universe lies before us a leper; and    |
|like wilful travellers in Lapland, who  |
|refuse to wear coloured and colouring   |
|glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched|
|infidel gazes himself blind at the      |
|monumental white shroud that wraps all  |
|the prospect around him. And of all     |
|these things the Albino whale was the   |
|symbol. Wonder ye then at the fiery     |
|hunt? "HIST! Did you hear that noise,   |
|Cabaco? It was the middle-watch; a fair |
|moonlight; the seamen were standing in  |
|a cordon, extending from one of the     |
|fresh-water butts in the waist, to the  |
|scuttle-butt near the taffrail. In this |
|manner, they passed the buckets to fill |
|the scuttle-butt. Standing, for the most|
|part, on the hallowed precincts of the  |
|quarter-deck, they were careful not to  |
|speak or rustle their feet. From hand to|
|hand, the buckets went in the deepest   |
|silence, only broken by the occasional  |
|flap of a sail, and the steady hum of   |
|the unceasingly advancing keel. It      |
|was in the midst of this repose, that   |
|Archy, one of the cordon, whose post    |
|was near the after-hatches, whispered   |
|to his neighbor, a Cholo, the words     |
|above. "Hist! did you hear that noise,  |
|Cabaco?" "Take the bucket, will ye,     |
|Archy? what noise d'ye mean?" "There    |
|it is again--under the hatches--don't   |
|you hear it--a cough--it sounded like   |
|a cough." "Cough be damned! Pass along  |
|that return bucket." "There again--there|
|it is!--it sounds like two or three     |
|sleepers turning over, now!" "Caramba!  |
|have done, shipmate, will ye? It's the  |
|three soaked biscuits ye eat for supper |
|turning over inside of ye--nothing      |
|else. Look to the bucket!" "Say what    |
|ye will, shipmate; I've sharp ears."    |
|"Aye, you are the chap, ain't ye, that  |
|heard the hum of the old Quakeress's    |
|knitting-needles fifty miles at sea     |
|from Nantucket; you're the chap." "Grin |
|away; we'll see what turns up. Hark ye, |
|Cabaco, there is somebody down in the   |
|after-hold that has not yet been seen on|
|deck; and I suspect our old Mogul knows |
|something of it too. I heard Stubb tell |
|Flask, one morning watch, that there was|
|something of that sort in the wind."    |
|"Tish! the bucket!" Had you followed    |
|Captain Ahab down into his cabin after  |
|the squall that took place on the night |
|succeeding that wild ratification of his|
|purpose with his crew, you would have   |
|seen him go to a locker in the transom, |
|and bringing out a large wrinkled roll  |
|of yellowish sea charts, spread them    |
|before him on his screwed-down table.   |
|Then seating himself before it, you     |
|would have seen him intently study      |
|the various lines and shadings which    |
|there met his eye; and with slow but    |
|steady pencil trace additional courses  |
|over spaces that before were blank.     |
|At intervals, he would refer to piles   |
|of old log-books beside him, wherein    |
|were set down the seasons and places    |
|in which, on various former voyages of  |
|various ships, sperm whales had been    |
|captured or seen. While thus employed,  |
|the heavy pewter lamp suspended in      |
|chains over his head, continually rocked|
|with the motion of the ship, and for    |
|ever threw shifting gleams and shadows  |
|of lines upon his wrinkled brow, till   |
|it almost seemed that while he himself  |
|was marking out lines and courses on the|
|wrinkled charts, some invisible pencil  |
|was also tracing lines and courses      |
|upon the deeply marked chart of his     |
|forehead. But it was not this night in  |
|particular that, in the solitude of     |
|his cabin, Ahab thus pondered over his  |
|charts. Almost every night they were    |
|brought out; almost every night some    |
|pencil marks were effaced, and others   |
|were substituted. For with the charts   |
|of all four oceans before him, Ahab     |
|was threading a maze of currents and    |
|eddies, with a view to the more certain |
|accomplishment of that monomaniac       |
|thought of his soul. Now, to any one    |
|not fully acquainted with the ways      |
|of the leviathans, it might seem an     |
|absurdly hopeless task thus to seek out |
|one solitary creature in the unhooped   |
|oceans of this planet. But not so did   |
|it seem to Ahab, who knew the sets of   |
|all tides and currents; and thereby     |
|calculating the driftings of the sperm  |
|whale's food; and, also, calling to mind|
|the regular, ascertained seasons for    |
|hunting him in particular latitudes;    |
|could arrive at reasonable surmises,    |
|almost approaching to certainties,      |
|concerning the timeliest day to be      |
|upon this or that ground in search of   |
|his prey. So assured, indeed, is the    |
|fact concerning the periodicalness of   |
|the sperm whale's resorting to given    |
|waters, that many hunters believe       |
|that, could he be closely observed and  |
|studied throughout the world; were the  |
|logs for one voyage of the entire whale |
|fleet carefully collated, then the      |
|migrations of the sperm whale would be  |
|found to correspond in invariability    |
|to those of the herring-shoals or the   |
|flights of swallows. On this hint,      |
|attempts have been made to construct    |
|elaborate migratory charts of the sperm |
|whale. Since the above was written, the |
|statement is happily borne out by an    |
|official circular, issued by Lieutenant |
|Maury, of the National Observatory,     |
|Washington, April 16th, 1851. By that   |
|circular, it appears that precisely such|
|a chart is in course of completion;     |
|and portions of it are presented in     |
|the circular. "This chart divides the   |
|ocean into districts of five degrees of |
|latitude by five degrees of longitude;  |
|perpendicularly through each of which   |
|districts are twelve columns for the    |
|twelve months; and horizontally through |
|each of which districts are three lines;|
|one to show the number of days that     |
|have been spent in each month in every  |
|district, and the two others to show the|
|number of days in which whales, sperm or|
|right, have been seen." Besides, when   |
|making a passage from one feeding-ground|
|to another, the sperm whales, guided    |
|by some infallible instinct--say,       |
|rather, secret intelligence from the    |
|Deity--mostly swim in VEINS, as they are|
|called; continuing their way along a    |
|given ocean-line with such undeviating  |
|exactitude, that no ship ever sailed    |
|her course, by any chart, with one      |
|tithe of such marvellous precision.     |
|Though, in these cases, the direction   |
|taken by any one whale be straight as   |
|a surveyor's parallel, and though the   |
|line of advance be strictly confined to |
|its own unavoidable, straight wake, yet |
|the arbitrary VEIN in which at these    |
|times he is said to swim, generally     |
|embraces some few miles in width (more  |
|or less, as the vein is presumed to     |
|expand or contract); but never exceeds  |
|the visual sweep from the whale-ship's  |
|mast-heads, when circumspectly gliding  |
|along this magic zone. The sum is,      |
|that at particular seasons within that  |
|breadth and along that path, migrating  |
|whales may with great confidence be     |
|looked for. And hence not only at       |
|substantiated times, upon well known    |
|separate feeding-grounds, could Ahab    |
|hope to encounter his prey; but in      |
|crossing the widest expanses of water   |
|between those grounds he could, by his  |
|art, so place and time himself on his   |
|way, as even then not to be wholly      |
|without prospect of a meeting. There    |
|was a circumstance which at first sight |
|seemed to entangle his delirious but    |
|still methodical scheme. But not so     |
|in the reality, perhaps. Though the     |
|gregarious sperm whales have their      |
|regular seasons for particular grounds, |
|yet in general you cannot conclude that |
|the herds which haunted such and such   |
|a latitude or longitude this year,      |
|say, will turn out to be identically    |
|the same with those that were found     |
|there the preceding season; though      |
|there are peculiar and unquestionable   |
|instances where the contrary of this    |
|has proved true. In general, the        |
|same remark, only within a less wide    |
|limit, applies to the solitaries        |
|and hermits among the matured, aged     |
|sperm whales. So that though Moby       |
|Dick had in a former year been seen,    |
|for example, on what is called the      |
|Seychelle ground in the Indian ocean,   |
|or Volcano Bay on the Japanese Coast;   |
|yet it did not follow, that were        |
|the Pequod to visit either of those     |
|spots at any subsequent corresponding   |
|season, she would infallibly encounter  |
|him there. So, too, with some other     |
|feeding grounds, where he had at times  |
|revealed himself. But all these seemed  |
|only his casual stopping-places and     |
|ocean-inns, so to speak, not his places |
|of prolonged abode. And where Ahab's    |
|chances of accomplishing his object have|
|hitherto been spoken of, allusion has   |
|only been made to whatever way-side,    |
|antecedent, extra prospects were his,   |
|ere a particular set time or place      |
|were attained, when all possibilities   |
|would become probabilities, and, as     |
|Ahab fondly thought, every possibility  |
|the next thing to a certainty. That     |
|particular set time and place were      |
|conjoined in the one technical          |
|phrase--the Season-on-the-Line. For     |
|there and then, for several consecutive |
|years, Moby Dick had been periodically  |
|descried, lingering in those waters for |
|awhile, as the sun, in its annual round,|
|loiters for a predicted interval in any |
|one sign of the Zodiac. There it was,   |
|too, that most of the deadly encounters |
|with the white whale had taken place;   |
|there the waves were storied with his   |
|deeds; there also was that tragic spot  |
|where the monomaniac old man had found  |
|the awful motive to his vengeance.      |
|But in the cautious comprehensiveness   |
|and unloitering vigilance with which    |
|Ahab threw his brooding soul into this  |
|unfaltering hunt, he would not permit   |
|himself to rest all his hopes upon the  |
|one crowning fact above mentioned,      |
|however flattering it might be to       |
|those hopes; nor in the sleeplessness   |
|of his vow could he so tranquillize     |
|his unquiet heart as to postpone all    |
|intervening quest. Now, the Pequod      |
|had sailed from Nantucket at the very   |
|beginning of the Season-on-the-Line.    |
|No possible endeavor then could enable  |
|her commander to make the great passage |
|southwards, double Cape Horn, and then  |
|running down sixty degrees of latitude  |
|arrive in the equatorial Pacific in     |
|time to cruise there. Therefore, he     |
|must wait for the next ensuing season.  |
|Yet the premature hour of the Pequod's  |
|sailing had, perhaps, been correctly    |
|selected by Ahab, with a view to this   |
|very complexion of things. Because,     |
|an interval of three hundred and        |
|sixty-five days and nights was before   |
|him; an interval which, instead of      |
|impatiently enduring ashore, he would   |
|spend in a miscellaneous hunt; if by    |
|chance the White Whale, spending his    |
|vacation in seas far remote from his    |
|periodical feeding-grounds, should turn |
|up his wrinkled brow off the Persian    |
|Gulf, or in the Bengal Bay, or China    |
|Seas, or in any other waters haunted    |
|by his race. So that Monsoons, Pampas,  |
|Nor'-Westers, Harmattans, Trades; any   |
|wind but the Levanter and Simoon,       |
|might blow Moby Dick into the devious   |
|zig-zag world-circle of the Pequod's    |
|circumnavigating wake. But granting     |
|all this; yet, regarded discreetly and  |
|coolly, seems it not but a mad idea,    |
|this; that in the broad boundless ocean,|
|one solitary whale, even if encountered,|
|should be thought capable of individual |
|recognition from his hunter, even as    |
|a white-bearded Mufti in the thronged   |
|thoroughfares of Constantinople? Yes.   |
|For the peculiar snow-white brow of Moby|
|Dick, and his snow-white hump, could    |
|not but be unmistakable. And have I not |
|tallied the whale, Ahab would mutter to |
|himself, as after poring over his charts|
|till long after midnight he would throw |
|himself back in reveries--tallied him,  |
|and shall he escape? His broad fins are |
|bored, and scalloped out like a lost    |
|sheep's ear! And here, his mad mind     |
|would run on in a breathless race; till |
|a weariness and faintness of pondering  |
|came over him; and in the open air of   |
|the deck he would seek to recover his   |
|strength. Ah, God! what trances of      |
|torments does that man endure who is    |
|consumed with one unachieved revengeful |
|desire. He sleeps with clenched hands;  |
|and wakes with his own bloody nails in  |
|his palms. Often, when forced from his  |
|hammock by exhausting and intolerably   |
|vivid dreams of the night, which,       |
|resuming his own intense thoughts       |
|through the day, carried them on amid   |
|a clashing of phrensies, and whirled    |
|them round and round and round in his   |
|blazing brain, till the very throbbing  |
|of his life-spot became insufferable    |
|anguish; and when, as was sometimes the |
|case, these spiritual throes in him     |
|heaved his being up from its base, and  |
|a chasm seemed opening in him, from     |
|which forked flames and lightnings      |
|shot up, and accursed fiends beckoned   |
|him to leap down among them; when this  |
|hell in himself yawned beneath him, a   |
|wild cry would be heard through the     |
|ship; and with glaring eyes Ahab would  |
|burst from his state room, as though    |
|escaping from a bed that was on fire.   |
|Yet these, perhaps, instead of being    |
|the unsuppressable symptoms of some     |
|latent weakness, or fright at his own   |
|resolve, were but the plainest tokens   |
|of its intensity. For, at such times,   |
|crazy Ahab, the scheming, unappeasedly  |
|steadfast hunter of the white whale;    |
|this Ahab that had gone to his hammock, |
|was not the agent that so caused him    |
|to burst from it in horror again. The   |
|latter was the eternal, living principle|
|or soul in him; and in sleep, being     |
|for the time dissociated from the       |
|characterizing mind, which at other     |
|times employed it for its outer vehicle |
|or agent, it spontaneously sought escape|
|from the scorching contiguity of the    |
|frantic thing, of which, for the time,  |
|it was no longer an integral. But as    |
|the mind does not exist unless leagued  |
|with the soul, therefore it must have   |
|been that, in Ahab's case, yielding up  |
|all his thoughts and fancies to his one |
|supreme purpose; that purpose, by its   |
|own sheer inveteracy of will, forced    |
|itself against gods and devils into a   |
|kind of self-assumed, independent being |
|of its own. Nay, could grimly live and  |
|burn, while the common vitality to which|
|it was conjoined, fled horror-stricken  |
|from the unbidden and unfathered birth. |
|Therefore, the tormented spirit that    |
|glared out of bodily eyes, when what    |
|seemed Ahab rushed from his room, was   |
|for the time but a vacated thing, a     |
|formless somnambulistic being, a ray of |
|living light, to be sure, but without   |
|an object to colour, and therefore a    |
|blankness in itself. God help thee,     |
|old man, thy thoughts have created a    |
|creature in thee; and he whose intense  |
|thinking thus makes him a Prometheus;   |
|a vulture feeds upon that heart for     |
|ever; that vulture the very creature he |
|creates. So far as what there may be of |
|a narrative in this book; and, indeed,  |
|as indirectly touching one or two very  |
|interesting and curious particulars     |
|in the habits of sperm whales, the      |
|foregoing chapter, in its earlier part, |
|is as important a one as will be found  |
|in this volume; but the leading matter  |
|of it requires to be still further      |
|and more familiarly enlarged upon, in   |
|order to be adequately understood, and  |
|moreover to take away any incredulity   |
|which a profound ignorance of the entire|
|subject may induce in some minds, as to |
|the natural verity of the main points   |
|of this affair. I care not to perform   |
|this part of my task methodically; but  |
|shall be content to produce the desired |
|impression by separate citations of     |
|items, practically or reliably known    |
|to me as a whaleman; and from these     |
|citations, I take it--the conclusion    |
|aimed at will naturally follow of       |
|itself. First: I have personally known  |
|three instances where a whale, after    |
|receiving a harpoon, has effected a     |
|complete escape; and, after an interval |
|(in one instance of three years), has   |
|been again struck by the same hand, and |
|slain; when the two irons, both marked  |
|by the same private cypher, have been   |
|taken from the body. In the instance    |
|where three years intervened between    |
|the flinging of the two harpoons; and I |
|think it may have been something more   |
|than that; the man who darted them      |
|happening, in the interval, to go in a  |
|trading ship on a voyage to Africa, went|
|ashore there, joined a discovery party, |
|and penetrated far into the interior,   |
|where he travelled for a period of      |
|nearly two years, often endangered by   |
|serpents, savages, tigers, poisonous    |
|miasmas, with all the other common      |
|perils incident to wandering in the     |
|heart of unknown regions. Meanwhile,    |
|the whale he had struck must also       |
|have been on its travels; no doubt it   |
|had thrice circumnavigated the globe,   |
|brushing with its flanks all the coasts |
|of Africa; but to no purpose. This man  |
|and this whale again came together, and |
|the one vanquished the other. I say     |
|I, myself, have known three instances   |
|similar to this; that is in two of them |
|I saw the whales struck; and, upon      |
|the second attack, saw the two irons    |
|with the respective marks cut in them,  |
|afterwards taken from the dead fish. In |
|the three-year instance, it so fell out |
|that I was in the boat both times, first|
|and last, and the last time distinctly  |
|recognised a peculiar sort of huge mole |
|under the whale's eye, which I had      |
|observed there three years previous. I  |
|say three years, but I am pretty sure   |
|it was more than that. Here are three   |
|instances, then, which I personally     |
|know the truth of; but I have heard of  |
|many other instances from persons whose |
|veracity in the matter there is no good |
|ground to impeach. Secondly: It is      |
|well known in the Sperm Whale Fishery,  |
|however ignorant the world ashore may   |
|be of it, that there have been several  |
|memorable historical instances where a  |
|particular whale in the ocean has been  |
|at distant times and places popularly   |
|cognisable. Why such a whale became thus|
|marked was not altogether and originally|
|owing to his bodily peculiarities       |
|as distinguished from other whales;     |
|for however peculiar in that respect    |
|any chance whale may be, they soon      |
|put an end to his peculiarities by      |
|killing him, and boiling him down into  |
|a peculiarly valuable oil. No: the      |
|reason was this: that from the fatal    |
|experiences of the fishery there hung   |
|a terrible prestige of perilousness     |
|about such a whale as there did about   |
|Rinaldo Rinaldini, insomuch that most   |
|fishermen were content to recognise him |
|by merely touching their tarpaulins     |
|when he would be discovered lounging    |
|by them on the sea, without seeking to  |
|cultivate a more intimate acquaintance. |
|Like some poor devils ashore that happen|
|to know an irascible great man, they    |
|make distant unobtrusive salutations    |
|to him in the street, lest if they      |
|pursued the acquaintance further, they  |
|might receive a summary thump for their |
|presumption. But not only did each      |
|of these famous whales enjoy great      |
|individual celebrity--Nay, you may call |
|it an ocean-wide renown; not only was   |
|he famous in life and now is immortal   |
|in forecastle stories after death, but  |
|he was admitted into all the rights,    |
|privileges, and distinctions of a name; |
|had as much a name indeed as Cambyses   |
|or Caesar. Was it not so, O Timor Tom!  |
|thou famed leviathan, scarred like an   |
|iceberg, who so long did'st lurk in the |
|Oriental straits of that name, whose    |
|spout was oft seen from the palmy beach |
|of Ombay? Was it not so, O New Zealand  |
|Jack! thou terror of all cruisers that  |
|crossed their wakes in the vicinity     |
|of the Tattoo Land? Was it not so, O    |
|Morquan! King of Japan, whose lofty     |
|jet they say at times assumed the       |
|semblance of a snow-white cross against |
|the sky? Was it not so, O Don Miguel!   |
|thou Chilian whale, marked like an old  |
|tortoise with mystic hieroglyphics upon |
|the back! In plain prose, here are four |
|whales as well known to the students of |
|Cetacean History as Marius or Sylla to  |
|the classic scholar. But this is not    |
|all. New Zealand Tom and Don Miguel,    |
|after at various times creating great   |
|havoc among the boats of different      |
|vessels, were finally gone in quest of, |
|systematically hunted out, chased and   |
|killed by valiant whaling captains,     |
|who heaved up their anchors with that   |
|express object as much in view, as in   |
|setting out through the Narragansett    |
|Woods, Captain Butler of old had it     |
|in his mind to capture that notorious   |
|murderous savage Annawon, the headmost  |
|warrior of the Indian King Philip. I    |
|do not know where I can find a better   |
|place than just here, to make mention   |
|of one or two other things, which       |
|to me seem important, as in printed     |
|form establishing in all respects the   |
|reasonableness of the whole story of    |
|the White Whale, more especially the    |
|catastrophe. For this is one of those   |
|disheartening instances where truth     |
|requires full as much bolstering as     |
|error. So ignorant are most landsmen    |
|of some of the plainest and most        |
|palpable wonders of the world, that     |
|without some hints touching the plain   |
|facts, historical and otherwise, of the |
|fishery, they might scout at Moby Dick  |
|as a monstrous fable, or still worse    |
|and more detestable, a hideous and      |
|intolerable allegory. First: Though most|
|men have some vague flitting ideas of   |
|the general perils of the grand fishery,|
|yet they have nothing like a fixed,     |
|vivid conception of those perils, and   |
|the frequency with which they recur.    |
|One reason perhaps is, that not one     |
|in fifty of the actual disasters and    |
|deaths by casualties in the fishery,    |
|ever finds a public record at home,     |
|however transient and immediately       |
|forgotten that record. Do you suppose   |
|that that poor fellow there, who this   |
|moment perhaps caught by the whale-line |
|off the coast of New Guinea, is being   |
|carried down to the bottom of the sea by|
|the sounding leviathan--do you suppose  |
|that that poor fellow's name will appear|
|in the newspaper obituary you will      |
|read to-morrow at your breakfast? No:   |
|because the mails are very irregular    |
|between here and New Guinea. In fact,   |
|did you ever hear what might be called  |
|regular news direct or indirect from    |
|New Guinea? Yet I tell you that upon    |
|one particular voyage which I made to   |
|the Pacific, among many others we spoke |
|thirty different ships, every one of    |
|which had had a death by a whale, some  |
|of them more than one, and three that   |
|had each lost a boat's crew. For God's  |
|sake, be economical with your lamps     |
|and candles! not a gallon you burn,     |
|but at least one drop of man's blood    |
|was spilled for it. Secondly: People    |
|ashore have indeed some indefinite idea |
|that a whale is an enormous creature    |
|of enormous power; but I have ever      |
|found that when narrating to them some  |
|specific example of this two-fold       |
|enormousness, they have significantly   |
|complimented me upon my facetiousness;  |
|when, I declare upon my soul, I had no  |
|more idea of being facetious than Moses,|
|when he wrote the history of the plagues|
|of Egypt. But fortunately the special   |
|point I here seek can be established    |
|upon testimony entirely independent of  |
|my own. That point is this: The Sperm   |
|Whale is in some cases sufficiently     |
|powerful, knowing, and judiciously      |
|malicious, as with direct aforethought  |
|to stave in, utterly destroy, and sink a|
|large ship; and what is more, the Sperm |
|Whale HAS done it. First: In the year   |
|1820 the ship Essex, Captain Pollard, of|
|Nantucket, was cruising in the Pacific  |
|Ocean. One day she saw spouts, lowered  |
|her boats, and gave chase to a shoal of |
|sperm whales. Ere long, several of the  |
|whales were wounded; when, suddenly,    |
|a very large whale escaping from the    |
|boats, issued from the shoal, and bore  |
|directly down upon the ship. Dashing his|
|forehead against her hull, he so stove  |
|her in, that in less than "ten minutes" |
|she settled down and fell over. Not a   |
|surviving plank of her has been seen    |
|since. After the severest exposure, part|
|of the crew reached the land in their   |
|boats. Being returned home at last,     |
|Captain Pollard once more sailed for    |
|the Pacific in command of another ship, |
|but the gods shipwrecked him again upon |
|unknown rocks and breakers; for the     |
|second time his ship was utterly lost,  |
|and forthwith forswearing the sea, he   |
|has never tempted it since. At this     |
|day Captain Pollard is a resident of    |
|Nantucket. I have seen Owen Chace, who  |
|was chief mate of the Essex at the time |
|of the tragedy; I have read his plain   |
|and faithful narrative; I have conversed|
|with his son; and all this within a few |
|miles of the scene of the catastrophe.  |
|The following are extracts from Chace's |
|narrative: "Every fact seemed to        |
|warrant me in concluding that it was    |
|anything but chance which directed his  |
|operations; he made two several attacks |
|upon the ship, at a short interval      |
|between them, both of which, according  |
|to their direction, were calculated to  |
|do us the most injury, by being made    |
|ahead, and thereby combining the speed  |
|of the two objects for the shock; to    |
|effect which, the exact manoeuvres      |
|which he made were necessary. His       |
|aspect was most horrible, and such as   |
|indicated resentment and fury. He came  |
|directly from the shoal which we had    |
|just before entered, and in which we    |
|had struck three of his companions,     |
|as if fired with revenge for their      |
|sufferings." Again: "At all events, the |
|whole circumstances taken together,     |
|all happening before my own eyes, and   |
|producing, at the time, impressions     |
|in my mind of decided, calculating      |
|mischief, on the part of the whale      |
|(many of which impressions I cannot now |
|recall), induce me to be satisfied that |
|I am correct in my opinion." Here are   |
|his reflections some time after quitting|
|the ship, during a black night an open  |
|boat, when almost despairing of reaching|
|any hospitable shore. "The dark ocean   |
|and swelling waters were nothing; the   |
|fears of being swallowed up by some     |
|dreadful tempest, or dashed upon hidden |
|rocks, with all the other ordinary      |
|subjects of fearful contemplation,      |
|seemed scarcely entitled to a moment's  |
|thought; the dismal looking wreck, and  |
|THE HORRID ASPECT AND REVENGE OF THE    |
|WHALE, wholly engrossed my reflections, |
|until day again made its appearance."   |
|In another place--p. 45,--he speaks of  |
|"THE MYSTERIOUS AND MORTAL ATTACK OF    |
|THE ANIMAL." Secondly: The ship Union,  |
|also of Nantucket, was in the year 1807 |
|totally lost off the Azores by a similar|
|onset, but the authentic particulars of |
|this catastrophe I have never chanced   |
|to encounter, though from the whale     |
|hunters I have now and then heard casual|
|allusions to it. Thirdly: Some eighteen |
|or twenty years ago Commodore J---, then|
|commanding an American sloop-of-war of  |
|the first class, happened to be dining  |
|with a party of whaling captains, on    |
|board a Nantucket ship in the harbor of |
|Oahu, Sandwich Islands. Conversation    |
|turning upon whales, the Commodore was  |
|pleased to be sceptical touching the    |
|amazing strength ascribed to them by    |
|the professional gentlemen present. He  |
|peremptorily denied for example, that   |
|any whale could so smite his stout      |
|sloop-of-war as to cause her to leak    |
|so much as a thimbleful. Very good;     |
|but there is more coming. Some weeks    |
|after, the Commodore set sail in this   |
|impregnable craft for Valparaiso. But   |
|he was stopped on the way by a portly   |
|sperm whale, that begged a few moments' |
|confidential business with him. That    |
|business consisted in fetching the      |
|Commodore's craft such a thwack, that   |
|with all his pumps going he made        |
|straight for the nearest port to heave  |
|down and repair. I am not superstitious,|
|but I consider the Commodore's interview|
|with that whale as providential. Was not|
|Saul of Tarsus converted from unbelief  |
|by a similar fright? I tell you, the    |
|sperm whale will stand no nonsense.     |
|I will now refer you to Langsdorff's    |
|Voyages for a little circumstance in    |
|point, peculiarly interesting to the    |
|writer hereof. Langsdorff, you must know|
|by the way, was attached to the Russian |
|Admiral Krusenstern's famous Discovery  |
|Expedition in the beginning of the      |
|present century. Captain Langsdorff thus|
|begins his seventeenth chapter: "By the |
|thirteenth of May our ship was ready to |
|sail, and the next day we were out in   |
|the open sea, on our way to Ochotsh. The|
|weather was very clear and fine, but so |
|intolerably cold that we were obliged   |
|to keep on our fur clothing. For some   |
|days we had very little wind; it was    |
|not till the nineteenth that a brisk    |
|gale from the northwest sprang up. An   |
|uncommon large whale, the body of which |
|was larger than the ship itself, lay    |
|almost at the surface of the water, but |
|was not perceived by any one on board   |
|till the moment when the ship, which    |
|was in full sail, was almost upon him,  |
|so that it was impossible to prevent    |
|its striking against him. We were thus  |
|placed in the most imminent danger,     |
|as this gigantic creature, setting up   |
|its back, raised the ship three feet    |
|at least out of the water. The masts    |
|reeled, and the sails fell altogether,  |
|while we who were below all sprang      |
|instantly upon the deck, concluding that|
|we had struck upon some rock; instead   |
|of this we saw the monster sailing off  |
|with the utmost gravity and solemnity.  |
|Captain D'Wolf applied immediately to   |
|the pumps to examine whether or not     |
|the vessel had received any damage      |
|from the shock, but we found that       |
|very happily it had escaped entirely    |
|uninjured." Now, the Captain D'Wolf     |
|here alluded to as commanding the ship  |
|in question, is a New Englander, who,   |
|after a long life of unusual adventures |
|as a sea-captain, this day resides in   |
|the village of Dorchester near Boston.  |
|I have the honour of being a nephew of  |
|his. I have particularly questioned him |
|concerning this passage in Langsdorff.  |
|He substantiates every word. The ship,  |
|however, was by no means a large one:   |
|a Russian craft built on the Siberian   |
|coast, and purchased by my uncle after  |
|bartering away the vessel in which he   |
|sailed from home. In that up and down   |
|manly book of old-fashioned adventure,  |
|so full, too, of honest wonders--the    |
|voyage of Lionel Wafer, one of ancient  |
|Dampier's old chums--I found a little   |
|matter set down so like that just quoted|
|from Langsdorff, that I cannot forbear  |
|inserting it here for a corroborative   |
|example, if such be needed. Lionel,     |
|it seems, was on his way to "John       |
|Ferdinando," as he calls the modern     |
|Juan Fernandes. "In our way thither,"   |
|he says, "about four o'clock in the     |
|morning, when we were about one hundred |
|and fifty leagues from the Main of      |
|America, our ship felt a terrible shock,|
|which put our men in such consternation |
|that they could hardly tell where they  |
|were or what to think; but every one    |
|began to prepare for death. And, indeed,|
|the shock was so sudden and violent,    |
|that we took it for granted the ship    |
|had struck against a rock; but when the |
|amazement was a little over, we cast the|
|lead, and sounded, but found no ground. |
|.... The suddenness of the shock made   |
|the guns leap in their carriages, and   |
|several of the men were shaken out of   |
|their hammocks. Captain Davis, who lay  |
|with his head on a gun, was thrown out  |
|of his cabin!" Lionel then goes on to   |
|impute the shock to an earthquake, and  |
|seems to substantiate the imputation    |
|by stating that a great earthquake,     |
|somewhere about that time, did actually |
|do great mischief along the Spanish     |
|land. But I should not much wonder if,  |
|in the darkness of that early hour of   |
|the morning, the shock was after all    |
|caused by an unseen whale vertically    |
|bumping the hull from beneath. I might  |
|proceed with several more examples, one |
|way or another known to me, of the great|
|power and malice at times of the sperm  |
|whale. In more than one instance, he    |
|has been known, not only to chase the   |
|assailing boats back to their ships,    |
|but to pursue the ship itself, and long |
|withstand all the lances hurled at him  |
|from its decks. The English ship Pusie  |
|Hall can tell a story on that head; and,|
|as for his strength, let me say, that   |
|there have been examples where the lines|
|attached to a running sperm whale have, |
|in a calm, been transferred to the ship,|
|and secured there; the whale towing her |
|great hull through the water, as a horse|
|walks off with a cart. Again, it is very|
|often observed that, if the sperm whale,|
|once struck, is allowed time to rally,  |
|he then acts, not so often with blind   |
|rage, as with wilful, deliberate designs|
|of destruction to his pursuers; nor     |
|is it without conveying some eloquent   |
|indication of his character, that upon  |
|being attacked he will frequently open  |
|his mouth, and retain it in that dread  |
|expansion for several consecutive       |
|minutes. But I must be content with only|
|one more and a concluding illustration; |
|a remarkable and most significant one,  |
|by which you will not fail to see, that |
|not only is the most marvellous event   |
|in this book corroborated by plain      |
|facts of the present day, but that      |
|these marvels (like all marvels) are    |
|mere repetitions of the ages; so that   |
|for the millionth time we say amen with |
|Solomon--Verily there is nothing new    |
|under the sun. In the sixth Christian   |
|century lived Procopius, a Christian    |
|magistrate of Constantinople, in the    |
|days when Justinian was Emperor and     |
|Belisarius general. As many know, he    |
|wrote the history of his own times, a   |
|work every way of uncommon value. By    |
|the best authorities, he has always     |
|been considered a most trustworthy and  |
|unexaggerating historian, except in     |
|some one or two particulars, not at all |
|affecting the matter presently to be    |
|mentioned. Now, in this history of his, |
|Procopius mentions that, during the term|
|of his prefecture at Constantinople,    |
|a great sea-monster was captured in     |
|the neighboring Propontis, or Sea of    |
|Marmora, after having destroyed vessels |
|at intervals in those waters for a      |
|period of more than fifty years. A fact |
|thus set down in substantial history    |
|cannot easily be gainsaid. Nor is there |
|any reason it should be. Of what precise|
|species this sea-monster was, is not    |
|mentioned. But as he destroyed ships,   |
|as well as for other reasons, he must   |
|have been a whale; and I am strongly    |
|inclined to think a sperm whale. And I  |
|will tell you why. For a long time I    |
|fancied that the sperm whale had been   |
|always unknown in the Mediterranean and |
|the deep waters connecting with it.     |
|Even now I am certain that those seas   |
|are not, and perhaps never can be, in   |
|the present constitution of things,     |
|a place for his habitual gregarious     |
|resort. But further investigations have |
|recently proved to me, that in modern   |
|times there have been isolated instances|
|of the presence of the sperm whale in   |
|the Mediterranean. I am told, on good   |
|authority, that on the Barbary coast,   |
|a Commodore Davis of the British navy   |
|found the skeleton of a sperm whale.    |
|Now, as a vessel of war readily passes  |
|through the Dardanelles, hence a sperm  |
|whale could, by the same route, pass out|
|of the Mediterranean into the Propontis.|
|In the Propontis, as far as I can learn,|
|none of that peculiar substance called  |
|BRIT is to be found, the aliment of the |
|right whale. But I have every reason    |
|to believe that the food of the sperm   |
|whale--squid or cuttle-fish--lurks at   |
|the bottom of that sea, because large   |
|creatures, but by no means the largest  |
|of that sort, have been found at its    |
|surface. If, then, you properly put     |
|these statements together, and reason   |
|upon them a bit, you will clearly       |
|perceive that, according to all human   |
|reasoning, Procopius's sea-monster, that|
|for half a century stove the ships of a |
|Roman Emperor, must in all probability  |
|have been a sperm whale. Though,        |
|consumed with the hot fire of his       |
|purpose, Ahab in all his thoughts and   |
|actions ever had in view the ultimate   |
|capture of Moby Dick; though he seemed  |
|ready to sacrifice all mortal interests |
|to that one passion; nevertheless it    |
|may have been that he was by nature and |
|long habituation far too wedded to a    |
|fiery whaleman's ways, altogether to    |
|abandon the collateral prosecution of   |
|the voyage. Or at least if this were    |
|otherwise, there were not wanting other |
|motives much more influential with him. |
|It would be refining too much, perhaps, |
|even considering his monomania, to      |
|hint that his vindictiveness towards    |
|the White Whale might have possibly     |
|extended itself in some degree to       |
|all sperm whales, and that the more     |
|monsters he slew by so much the more    |
|he multiplied the chances that each     |
|subsequently encountered whale would    |
|prove to be the hated one he hunted.    |
|But if such an hypothesis be indeed     |
|exceptionable, there were still         |
|additional considerations which, though |
|not so strictly according with the      |
|wildness of his ruling passion, yet     |
|were by no means incapable of swaying   |
|him. To accomplish his object Ahab must |
|use tools; and of all tools used in the |
|shadow of the moon, men are most apt to |
|get out of order. He knew, for example, |
|that however magnetic his ascendency    |
|in some respects was over Starbuck,     |
|yet that ascendency did not cover the   |
|complete spiritual man any more than    |
|mere corporeal superiority involves     |
|intellectual mastership; for to the     |
|purely spiritual, the intellectual but  |
|stand in a sort of corporeal relation.  |
|Starbuck's body and Starbuck's coerced  |
|will were Ahab's, so long as Ahab       |
|kept his magnet at Starbuck's brain;    |
|still he knew that for all this the     |
|chief mate, in his soul, abhorred his   |
|captain's quest, and could he, would    |
|joyfully disintegrate himself from it,  |
|or even frustrate it. It might be that  |
|a long interval would elapse ere the    |
|White Whale was seen. During that long  |
|interval Starbuck would ever be apt to  |
|fall into open relapses of rebellion    |
|against his captain's leadership,       |
|unless some ordinary, prudential,       |
|circumstantial influences were brought  |
|to bear upon him. Not only that, but    |
|the subtle insanity of Ahab respecting  |
|Moby Dick was noways more significantly |
|manifested than in his superlative sense|
|and shrewdness in foreseeing that, for  |
|the present, the hunt should in some way|
|be stripped of that strange imaginative |
|impiousness which naturally invested    |
|it; that the full terror of the voyage  |
|must be kept withdrawn into the obscure |
|background (for few men's courage is    |
|proof against protracted meditation     |
|unrelieved by action); that when they   |
|stood their long night watches, his     |
|officers and men must have some nearer  |
|things to think of than Moby Dick. For  |
|however eagerly and impetuously the     |
|savage crew had hailed the announcement |
|of his quest; yet all sailors of all    |
|sorts are more or less capricious and   |
|unreliable--they live in the varying    |
|outer weather, and they inhale its      |
|fickleness--and when retained for any   |
|object remote and blank in the pursuit, |
|however promissory of life and passion  |
|in the end, it is above all things      |
|requisite that temporary interests and  |
|employments should intervene and hold   |
|them healthily suspended for the final  |
|dash. Nor was Ahab unmindful of another |
|thing. In times of strong emotion       |
|mankind disdain all base considerations;|
|but such times are evanescent. The      |
|permanent constitutional condition of   |
|the manufactured man, thought Ahab,     |
|is sordidness. Granting that the        |
|White Whale fully incites the hearts    |
|of this my savage crew, and playing     |
|round their savageness even breeds a    |
|certain generous knight-errantism in    |
|them, still, while for the love of it   |
|they give chase to Moby Dick, they must |
|also have food for their more common,   |
|daily appetites. For even the high      |
|lifted and chivalric Crusaders of old   |
|times were not content to traverse two  |
|thousand miles of land to fight for     |
|their holy sepulchre, without committing|
|burglaries, picking pockets, and gaining|
|other pious perquisites by the way. Had |
|they been strictly held to their one    |
|final and romantic object--that final   |
|and romantic object, too many would have|
|turned from in disgust. I will not strip|
|these men, thought Ahab, of all hopes   |
|of cash--aye, cash. They may scorn cash |
|now; but let some months go by, and no  |
|perspective promise of it to them, and  |
|then this same quiescent cash all at    |
|once mutinying in them, this same cash  |
|would soon cashier Ahab. Nor was there  |
|wanting still another precautionary     |
|motive more related to Ahab personally. |
|Having impulsively, it is probable, and |
|perhaps somewhat prematurely revealed   |
|the prime but private purpose of the    |
|Pequod's voyage, Ahab was now entirely  |
|conscious that, in so doing, he had     |
|indirectly laid himself open to the     |
|unanswerable charge of usurpation; and  |
|with perfect impunity, both moral and   |
|legal, his crew if so disposed, and     |
|to that end competent, could refuse     |
|all further obedience to him, and even  |
|violently wrest from him the command.   |
|From even the barely hinted imputation  |
|of usurpation, and the possible         |
|consequences of such a suppressed       |
|impression gaining ground, Ahab must    |
|of course have been most anxious to     |
|protect himself. That protection could  |
|only consist in his own predominating   |
|brain and heart and hand, backed by a   |
|heedful, closely calculating attention  |
|to every minute atmospheric influence   |
|which it was possible for his crew to   |
|be subjected to. For all these reasons  |
|then, and others perhaps too analytic to|
|be verbally developed here, Ahab plainly|
|saw that he must still in a good degree |
|continue true to the natural, nominal   |
|purpose of the Pequod's voyage; observe |
|all customary usages; and not only that,|
|but force himself to evince all his     |
|well known passionate interest in the   |
|general pursuit of his profession. Be   |
|all this as it may, his voice was now   |
|often heard hailing the three mast-heads|
|and admonishing them to keep a bright   |
|look-out, and not omit reporting even   |
|a porpoise. This vigilance was not      |
|long without reward. It was a cloudy,   |
|sultry afternoon; the seamen were lazily|
|lounging about the decks, or vacantly   |
|gazing over into the lead-coloured      |
|waters. Queequeg and I were mildly      |
|employed weaving what is called a       |
|sword-mat, for an additional lashing to |
|our boat. So still and subdued and yet  |
|somehow preluding was all the scene, and|
|such an incantation of reverie lurked in|
|the air, that each silent sailor seemed |
|resolved into his own invisible self. I |
|was the attendant or page of Queequeg,  |
|while busy at the mat. As I kept passing|
|and repassing the filling or woof of    |
|marline between the long yarns of the   |
|warp, using my own hand for the shuttle,|
|and as Queequeg, standing sideways,     |
|ever and anon slid his heavy oaken      |
|sword between the threads, and idly     |
|looking off upon the water, carelessly  |
|and unthinkingly drove home every yarn: |
|I say so strange a dreaminess did       |
|there then reign all over the ship and  |
|all over the sea, only broken by the    |
|intermitting dull sound of the sword,   |
|that it seemed as if this were the Loom |
|of Time, and I myself were a shuttle    |
|mechanically weaving and weaving away at|
|the Fates. There lay the fixed threads  |
|of the warp subject to but one single,  |
|ever returning, unchanging vibration,   |
|and that vibration merely enough to     |
|admit of the crosswise interblending of |
|other threads with its own. This warp   |
|seemed necessity; and here, thought     |
|I, with my own hand I ply my own        |
|shuttle and weave my own destiny into   |
|these unalterable threads. Meantime,    |
|Queequeg's impulsive, indifferent       |
|sword, sometimes hitting the woof       |
|slantingly, or crookedly, or strongly,  |
|or weakly, as the case might be; and    |
|by this difference in the concluding    |
|blow producing a corresponding contrast |
|in the final aspect of the completed    |
|fabric; this savage's sword, thought    |
|I, which thus finally shapes and        |
|fashions both warp and woof; this easy, |
|indifferent sword must be chance--aye,  |
|chance, free will, and necessity--nowise|
|incompatible--all interweavingly        |
|working together. The straight warp of  |
|necessity, not to be swerved from its   |
|ultimate course--its every alternating  |
|vibration, indeed, only tending to that;|
|free will still free to ply her shuttle |
|between given threads; and chance,      |
|though restrained in its play within the|
|right lines of necessity, and sideways  |
|in its motions directed by free will,   |
|though thus prescribed to by both,      |
|chance by turns rules either, and has   |
|the last featuring blow at events. Thus |
|we were weaving and weaving away when   |
|I started at a sound so strange, long   |
|drawn, and musically wild and unearthly,|
|that the ball of free will dropped from |
|my hand, and I stood gazing up at the   |
|clouds whence that voice dropped like   |
|a wing. High aloft in the cross-trees   |
|was that mad Gay-Header, Tashtego. His  |
|body was reaching eagerly forward, his  |
|hand stretched out like a wand, and at  |
|brief sudden intervals he continued his |
|cries. To be sure the same sound was    |
|that very moment perhaps being heard    |
|all over the seas, from hundreds of     |
|whalemen's look-outs perched as high in |
|the air; but from few of those lungs    |
|could that accustomed old cry have      |
|derived such a marvellous cadence as    |
|from Tashtego the Indian's. As he stood |
|hovering over you half suspended in air,|
|so wildly and eagerly peering towards   |
|the horizon, you would have thought     |
|him some prophet or seer beholding the  |
|shadows of Fate, and by those wild      |
|cries announcing their coming. "There   |
|she blows! there! there! there! she     |
|blows! she blows!" "Where-away?" "On    |
|the lee-beam, about two miles off! a    |
|school of them!" Instantly all was      |
|commotion. The Sperm Whale blows as a   |
|clock ticks, with the same undeviating  |
|and reliable uniformity. And thereby    |
|whalemen distinguish this fish from     |
|other tribes of his genus. "There go    |
|flukes!" was now the cry from Tashtego; |
|and the whales disappeared. "Quick,     |
|steward!" cried Ahab. "Time! time!"     |
|Dough-Boy hurried below, glanced at the |
|watch, and reported the exact minute    |
|to Ahab. The ship was now kept away     |
|from the wind, and she went gently      |
|rolling before it. Tashtego reporting   |
|that the whales had gone down heading   |
|to leeward, we confidently looked to    |
|see them again directly in advance of   |
|our bows. For that singular craft at    |
|times evinced by the Sperm Whale when,  |
|sounding with his head in one direction,|
|he nevertheless, while concealed beneath|
|the surface, mills round, and swiftly   |
|swims off in the opposite quarter--this |
|deceitfulness of his could not now be   |
|in action; for there was no reason to   |
|suppose that the fish seen by Tashtego  |
|had been in any way alarmed, or indeed  |
|knew at all of our vicinity. One of     |
|the men selected for shipkeepers--that  |
|is, those not appointed to the boats,   |
|by this time relieved the Indian at     |
|the main-mast head. The sailors at the  |
|fore and mizzen had come down; the line |
|tubs were fixed in their places; the    |
|cranes were thrust out; the mainyard    |
|was backed, and the three boats swung   |
|over the sea like three samphire        |
|baskets over high cliffs. Outside of    |
|the bulwarks their eager crews with one |
|hand clung to the rail, while one foot  |
|was expectantly poised on the gunwale.  |
|So look the long line of man-of-war's   |
|men about to throw themselves on board  |
|an enemy's ship. But at this critical   |
|instant a sudden exclamation was heard  |
|that took every eye from the whale. With|
|a start all glared at dark Ahab, who    |
|was surrounded by five dusky phantoms   |
|that seemed fresh formed out of air. The|
|phantoms, for so they then seemed, were |
|flitting on the other side of the deck, |
|and, with a noiseless celerity, were    |
|casting loose the tackles and bands of  |
|the boat which swung there. This boat   |
|had always been deemed one of the spare |
|boats, though technically called the    |
|captain's, on account of its hanging    |
|from the starboard quarter. The figure  |
|that now stood by its bows was tall     |
|and swart, with one white tooth evilly  |
|protruding from its steel-like lips. A  |
|rumpled Chinese jacket of black cotton  |
|funereally invested him, with wide      |
|black trowsers of the same dark stuff.  |
|But strangely crowning this ebonness    |
|was a glistening white plaited turban,  |
|the living hair braided and coiled      |
|round and round upon his head. Less     |
|swart in aspect, the companions of this |
|figure were of that vivid, tiger-yellow |
|complexion peculiar to some of the      |
|aboriginal natives of the Manillas;--a  |
|race notorious for a certain diabolism  |
|of subtilty, and by some honest white   |
|mariners supposed to be the paid spies  |
|and secret confidential agents on       |
|the water of the devil, their lord,     |
|whose counting-room they suppose to     |
|be elsewhere. While yet the wondering   |
|ship's company were gazing upon these   |
|strangers, Ahab cried out to the        |
|white-turbaned old man at their head,   |
|"All ready there, Fedallah?" "Ready,"   |
|was the half-hissed reply. "Lower away  |
|then; d'ye hear?" shouting across the   |
|deck. "Lower away there, I say." Such   |
|was the thunder of his voice, that spite|
|of their amazement the men sprang over  |
|the rail; the sheaves whirled round in  |
|the blocks; with a wallow, the three    |
|boats dropped into the sea; while,      |
|with a dexterous, off-handed daring,    |
|unknown in any other vocation, the      |
|sailors, goat-like, leaped down the     |
|rolling ship's side into the tossed     |
|boats below. Hardly had they pulled     |
|out from under the ship's lee, when a   |
|fourth keel, coming from the windward   |
|side, pulled round under the stern,     |
|and showed the five strangers rowing    |
|Ahab, who, standing erect in the stern, |
|loudly hailed Starbuck, Stubb, and      |
|Flask, to spread themselves widely, so  |
|as to cover a large expanse of water.   |
|But with all their eyes again riveted   |
|upon the swart Fedallah and his crew,   |
|the inmates of the other boats obeyed   |
|not the command. "Captain Ahab?--"      |
|said Starbuck. "Spread yourselves,"     |
|cried Ahab; "give way, all four boats.  |
|Thou, Flask, pull out more to leeward!" |
|"Aye, aye, sir," cheerily cried little  |
|King-Post, sweeping round his great     |
|steering oar. "Lay back!" addressing    |
|his crew. "There!--there!--there        |
|again! There she blows right ahead,     |
|boys!--lay back!" "Never heed yonder    |
|yellow boys, Archy." "Oh, I don't       |
|mind'em, sir," said Archy; "I knew it   |
|all before now. Didn't I hear 'em in    |
|the hold? And didn't I tell Cabaco here |
|of it? What say ye, Cabaco? They are    |
|stowaways, Mr. Flask." "Pull, pull, my  |
|fine hearts-alive; pull, my children;   |
|pull, my little ones," drawlingly and   |
|soothingly sighed Stubb to his crew,    |
|some of whom still showed signs of      |
|uneasiness. "Why don't you break your   |
|backbones, my boys? What is it you stare|
|at? Those chaps in yonder boat? Tut!    |
|They are only five more hands come to   |
|help us--never mind from where--the     |
|more the merrier. Pull, then, do pull;  |
|never mind the brimstone--devils are    |
|good fellows enough. So, so; there      |
|you are now; that's the stroke for a    |
|thousand pounds; that's the stroke to   |
|sweep the stakes! Hurrah for the gold   |
|cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three      |
|cheers, men--all hearts alive! Easy,    |
|easy; don't be in a hurry--don't be     |
|in a hurry. Why don't you snap your     |
|oars, you rascals? Bite something,      |
|you dogs! So, so, so, then:--softly,    |
|softly! That's it--that's it! long      |
|and strong. Give way there, give way!   |
|The devil fetch ye, ye ragamuffin       |
|rapscallions; ye are all asleep. Stop   |
|snoring, ye sleepers, and pull. Pull,   |
|will ye? pull, can't ye? pull, won't    |
|ye? Why in the name of gudgeons and     |
|ginger-cakes don't ye pull?--pull and   |
|break something! pull, and start your   |
|eyes out! Here!" whipping out the sharp |
|knife from his girdle; "every mother's  |
|son of ye draw his knife, and pull with |
|the blade between his teeth. That's     |
|it--that's it. Now ye do something;     |
|that looks like it, my steel-bits.      |
|Start her--start her, my silver-spoons! |
|Start her, marling-spikes!" Stubb's     |
|exordium to his crew is given here at   |
|large, because he had rather a peculiar |
|way of talking to them in general, and  |
|especially in inculcating the religion  |
|of rowing. But you must not suppose from|
|this specimen of his sermonizings that  |
|he ever flew into downright passions    |
|with his congregation. Not at all; and  |
|therein consisted his chief peculiarity.|
|He would say the most terrific things   |
|to his crew, in a tone so strangely     |
|compounded of fun and fury, and the     |
|fury seemed so calculated merely as     |
|a spice to the fun, that no oarsman     |
|could hear such queer invocations       |
|without pulling for dear life, and yet  |
|pulling for the mere joke of the thing. |
|Besides he all the time looked so easy  |
|and indolent himself, so loungingly     |
|managed his steering-oar, and so broadly|
|gaped--open-mouthed at times--that the  |
|mere sight of such a yawning commander, |
|by sheer force of contrast, acted like  |
|a charm upon the crew. Then again,      |
|Stubb was one of those odd sort of      |
|humorists, whose jollity is sometimes   |
|so curiously ambiguous, as to put all   |
|inferiors on their guard in the matter  |
|of obeying them. In obedience to a sign |
|from Ahab, Starbuck was now pulling     |
|obliquely across Stubb's bow; and when  |
|for a minute or so the two boats were   |
|pretty near to each other, Stubb hailed |
|the mate. "Mr. Starbuck! larboard boat  |
|there, ahoy! a word with ye, sir, if ye |
|please!" "Halloa!" returned Starbuck,   |
|turning round not a single inch as he   |
|spoke; still earnestly but whisperingly |
|urging his crew; his face set like a    |
|flint from Stubb's. "What think ye of   |
|those yellow boys, sir! "Smuggled on    |
|board, somehow, before the ship sailed. |
|(Strong, strong, boys!)" in a whisper   |
|to his crew, then speaking out loud     |
|again: "A sad business, Mr. Stubb!      |
|(seethe her, seethe her, my lads!) but  |
|never mind, Mr. Stubb, all for the best.|
|Let all your crew pull strong, come     |
|what will. (Spring, my men, spring!)    |
|There's hogsheads of sperm ahead, Mr.   |
|Stubb, and that's what ye came for.     |
|(Pull, my boys!) Sperm, sperm's the     |
|play! This at least is duty; duty and   |
|profit hand in hand." "Aye, aye, I      |
|thought as much," soliloquized Stubb,   |
|when the boats diverged, "as soon as I  |
|clapt eye on 'em, I thought so. Aye,    |
|and that's what he went into the after  |
|hold for, so often, as Dough-Boy long   |
|suspected. They were hidden down there. |
|The White Whale's at the bottom of it.  |
|Well, well, so be it! Can't be helped!  |
|All right! Give way, men! It ain't the  |
|White Whale to-day! Give way!" Now the  |
|advent of these outlandish strangers at |
|such a critical instant as the lowering |
|of the boats from the deck, this had    |
|not unreasonably awakened a sort of     |
|superstitious amazement in some of the  |
|ship's company; but Archy's fancied     |
|discovery having some time previous got |
|abroad among them, though indeed not    |
|credited then, this had in some small   |
|measure prepared them for the event.    |
|It took off the extreme edge of their   |
|wonder; and so what with all this and   |
|Stubb's confident way of accounting for |
|their appearance, they were for the time|
|freed from superstitious surmisings;    |
|though the affair still left abundant   |
|room for all manner of wild conjectures |
|as to dark Ahab's precise agency in the |
|matter from the beginning. For me, I    |
|silently recalled the mysterious shadows|
|I had seen creeping on board the Pequod |
|during the dim Nantucket dawn, as well  |
|as the enigmatical hintings of the      |
|unaccountable Elijah. Meantime, Ahab,   |
|out of hearing of his officers, having  |
|sided the furthest to windward, was     |
|still ranging ahead of the other boats; |
|a circumstance bespeaking how potent a  |
|crew was pulling him. Those tiger yellow|
|creatures of his seemed all steel and   |
|whalebone; like five trip-hammers they  |
|rose and fell with regular strokes of   |
|strength, which periodically started the|
|boat along the water like a horizontal  |
|burst boiler out of a Mississippi       |
|steamer. As for Fedallah, who was seen  |
|pulling the harpooneer oar, he had      |
|thrown aside his black jacket, and      |
|displayed his naked chest with the whole|
|part of his body above the gunwale,     |
|clearly cut against the alternating     |
|depressions of the watery horizon;      |
|while at the other end of the boat      |
|Ahab, with one arm, like a fencer's,    |
|thrown half backward into the air, as   |
|if to counterbalance any tendency to    |
|trip; Ahab was seen steadily managing   |
|his steering oar as in a thousand boat  |
|lowerings ere the White Whale had torn  |
|him. All at once the outstretched arm   |
|gave a peculiar motion and then remained|
|fixed, while the boat's five oars       |
|were seen simultaneously peaked. Boat   |
|and crew sat motionless on the sea.     |
|Instantly the three spread boats in the |
|rear paused on their way. The whales    |
|had irregularly settled bodily down     |
|into the blue, thus giving no distantly |
|discernible token of the movement,      |
|though from his closer vicinity Ahab    |
|had observed it. "Every man look out    |
|along his oars!" cried Starbuck. "Thou, |
|Queequeg, stand up!" Nimbly springing   |
|up on the triangular raised box in the  |
|bow, the savage stood erect there, and  |
|with intensely eager eyes gazed off     |
|towards the spot where the chase had    |
|last been descried. Likewise upon the   |
|extreme stern of the boat where it was  |
|also triangularly platformed level with |
|the gunwale, Starbuck himself was seen  |
|coolly and adroitly balancing himself   |
|to the jerking tossings of his chip     |
|of a craft, and silently eyeing the     |
|vast blue eye of the sea. Not very far  |
|distant Flask's boat was also lying     |
|breathlessly still; its commander       |
|recklessly standing upon the top of the |
|loggerhead, a stout sort of post rooted |
|in the keel, and rising some two feet   |
|above the level of the stern platform.  |
|It is used for catching turns with      |
|the whale line. Its top is not more     |
|spacious than the palm of a man's hand, |
|and standing upon such a base as that,  |
|Flask seemed perched at the mast-head   |
|of some ship which had sunk to all but  |
|her trucks. But little King-Post was    |
|small and short, and at the same time   |
|little King-Post was full of a large and|
|tall ambition, so that this loggerhead  |
|stand-point of his did by no means      |
|satisfy King-Post. "I can't see three   |
|seas off; tip us up an oar there, and   |
|let me on to that." Upon this, Daggoo,  |
|with either hand upon the gunwale to    |
|steady his way, swiftly slid aft, and   |
|then erecting himself volunteered his   |
|lofty shoulders for a pedestal. "Good   |
|a mast-head as any, sir. Will you       |
|mount?" "That I will, and thank ye very |
|much, my fine fellow; only I wish you   |
|fifty feet taller." Whereupon planting  |
|his feet firmly against two opposite    |
|planks of the boat, the gigantic negro, |
|stooping a little, presented his flat   |
|palm to Flask's foot, and then putting  |
|Flask's hand on his hearse-plumed head  |
|and bidding him spring as he himself    |
|should toss, with one dexterous fling   |
|landed the little man high and dry on   |
|his shoulders. And here was Flask now   |
|standing, Daggoo with one lifted arm    |
|furnishing him with a breastband to     |
|lean against and steady himself by. At  |
|any time it is a strange sight to the   |
|tyro to see with what wondrous habitude |
|of unconscious skill the whaleman will  |
|maintain an erect posture in his boat,  |
|even when pitched about by the most     |
|riotously perverse and cross-running    |
|seas. Still more strange to see him     |
|giddily perched upon the loggerhead     |
|itself, under such circumstances. But   |
|the sight of little Flask mounted       |
|upon gigantic Daggoo was yet more       |
|curious; for sustaining himself with    |
|a cool, indifferent, easy, unthought    |
|of, barbaric majesty, the noble negro   |
|to every roll of the sea harmoniously   |
|rolled his fine form. On his broad back,|
|flaxen-haired Flask seemed a snow-flake.|
|The bearer looked nobler than the rider.|
|Though truly vivacious, tumultuous,     |
|ostentatious little Flask would now and |
|then stamp with impatience; but not     |
|one added heave did he thereby give     |
|to the negro's lordly chest. So have    |
|I seen Passion and Vanity stamping      |
|the living magnanimous earth, but the   |
|earth did not alter her tides and her   |
|seasons for that. Meanwhile Stubb, the  |
|third mate, betrayed no such far-gazing |
|solicitudes. The whales might have      |
|made one of their regular soundings,    |
|not a temporary dive from mere fright;  |
|and if that were the case, Stubb, as    |
|his wont in such cases, it seems, was   |
|resolved to solace the languishing      |
|interval with his pipe. He withdrew it  |
|from his hatband, where he always wore  |
|it aslant like a feather. He loaded it, |
|and rammed home the loading with his    |
|thumb-end; but hardly had he ignited his|
|match across the rough sandpaper of his |
|hand, when Tashtego, his harpooneer,    |
|whose eyes had been setting to windward |
|like two fixed stars, suddenly dropped  |
|like light from his erect attitude      |
|to his seat, crying out in a quick      |
|phrensy of hurry, "Down, down all,      |
|and give way!--there they are!" To a    |
|landsman, no whale, nor any sign of a   |
|herring, would have been visible at     |
|that moment; nothing but a troubled     |
|bit of greenish white water, and thin   |
|scattered puffs of vapour hovering      |
|over it, and suffusingly blowing off    |
|to leeward, like the confused scud      |
|from white rolling billows. The air     |
|around suddenly vibrated and tingled,   |
|as it were, like the air over intensely |
|heated plates of iron. Beneath this     |
|atmospheric waving and curling, and     |
|partially beneath a thin layer of water,|
|also, the whales were swimming. Seen in |
|advance of all the other indications,   |
|the puffs of vapour they spouted,       |
|seemed their forerunning couriers and   |
|detached flying outriders. All four     |
|boats were now in keen pursuit of that  |
|one spot of troubled water and air. But |
|it bade fair to outstrip them; it flew  |
|on and on, as a mass of interblending   |
|bubbles borne down a rapid stream from  |
|the hills. "Pull, pull, my good boys,"  |
|said Starbuck, in the lowest possible   |
|but intensest concentrated whisper to   |
|his men; while the sharp fixed glance   |
|from his eyes darted straight ahead of  |
|the bow, almost seemed as two visible   |
|needles in two unerring binnacle        |
|compasses. He did not say much to his   |
|crew, though, nor did his crew say      |
|anything to him. Only the silence of    |
|the boat was at intervals startlingly   |
|pierced by one of his peculiar whispers,|
|now harsh with command, now soft with   |
|entreaty. How different the loud        |
|little King-Post. "Sing out and say     |
|something, my hearties. Roar and pull,  |
|my thunderbolts! Beach me, beach me on  |
|their black backs, boys; only do that   |
|for me, and I'll sign over to you my    |
|Martha's Vineyard plantation, boys;     |
|including wife and children, boys. Lay  |
|me on--lay me on! O Lord, Lord! but I   |
|shall go stark, staring mad! See! see   |
|that white water!" And so shouting,     |
|he pulled his hat from his head, and    |
|stamped up and down on it; then picking |
|it up, flirted it far off upon the      |
|sea; and finally fell to rearing and    |
|plunging in the boat's stern like a     |
|crazed colt from the prairie. "Look at  |
|that chap now," philosophically drawled |
|Stubb, who, with his unlighted short    |
|pipe, mechanically retained between his |
|teeth, at a short distance, followed    |
|after--"He's got fits, that Flask has.  |
|Fits? yes, give him fits--that's the    |
|very word--pitch fits into 'em. Merrily,|
|merrily, hearts-alive. Pudding for      |
|supper, you know;--merry's the word.    |
|Pull, babes--pull, sucklings--pull, all.|
|But what the devil are you hurrying     |
|about? Softly, softly, and steadily,    |
|my men. Only pull, and keep pulling;    |
|nothing more. Crack all your backbones, |
|and bite your knives in two--that's all.|
|Take it easy--why don't ye take it easy,|
|I say, and burst all your livers and    |
|lungs!" But what it was that inscrutable|
|Ahab said to that tiger-yellow crew     |
|of his--these were words best omitted   |
|here; for you live under the blessed    |
|light of the evangelical land. Only     |
|the infidel sharks in the audacious     |
|seas may give ear to such words, when,  |
|with tornado brow, and eyes of red      |
|murder, and foam-glued lips, Ahab leaped|
|after his prey. Meanwhile, all the      |
|boats tore on. The repeated specific    |
|allusions of Flask to "that whale,"     |
|as he called the fictitious monster     |
|which he declared to be incessantly     |
|tantalizing his boat's bow with its     |
|tail--these allusions of his were at    |
|times so vivid and life-like, that they |
|would cause some one or two of his      |
|men to snatch a fearful look over the   |
|shoulder. But this was against all rule;|
|for the oarsmen must put out their eyes,|
|and ram a skewer through their necks;   |
|usage pronouncing that they must have   |
|no organs but ears, and no limbs but    |
|arms, in these critical moments. It was |
|a sight full of quick wonder and awe!   |
|The vast swells of the omnipotent sea;  |
|the surging, hollow roar they made, as  |
|they rolled along the eight gunwales,   |
|like gigantic bowls in a boundless      |
|bowling-green; the brief suspended      |
|agony of the boat, as it would tip for  |
|an instant on the knife-like edge of    |
|the sharper waves, that almost seemed   |
|threatening to cut it in two; the sudden|
|profound dip into the watery glens and  |
|hollows; the keen spurrings and goadings|
|to gain the top of the opposite hill;   |
|the headlong, sled-like slide down its  |
|other side;--all these, with the cries  |
|of the headsmen and harpooneers, and    |
|the shuddering gasps of the oarsmen,    |
|with the wondrous sight of the ivory    |
|Pequod bearing down upon her boats with |
|outstretched sails, like a wild hen     |
|after her screaming brood;--all this    |
|was thrilling. Not the raw recruit,     |
|marching from the bosom of his wife into|
|the fever heat of his first battle;     |
|not the dead man's ghost encountering   |
|the first unknown phantom in the other  |
|world;--neither of these can feel       |
|stranger and stronger emotions than     |
|that man does, who for the first time   |
|finds himself pulling into the charmed, |
|churned circle of the hunted sperm      |
|whale. The dancing white water made by  |
|the chase was now becoming more and     |
|more visible, owing to the increasing   |
|darkness of the dun cloud-shadows flung |
|upon the sea. The jets of vapour no     |
|longer blended, but tilted everywhere   |
|to right and left; the whales seemed    |
|separating their wakes. The boats were  |
|pulled more apart; Starbuck giving      |
|chase to three whales running dead to   |
|leeward. Our sail was now set, and,     |
|with the still rising wind, we rushed   |
|along; the boat going with such madness |
|through the water, that the lee oars    |
|could scarcely be worked rapidly enough |
|to escape being torn from the row-locks.|
|Soon we were running through a suffusing|
|wide veil of mist; neither ship nor boat|
|to be seen. "Give way, men," whispered  |
|Starbuck, drawing still further aft the |
|sheet of his sail; "there is time to    |
|kill a fish yet before the squall comes.|
|There's white water again!--close to!   |
|Spring!" Soon after, two cries in quick |
|succession on each side of us denoted   |
|that the other boats had got fast; but  |
|hardly were they overheard, when with a |
|lightning-like hurtling whisper Starbuck|
|said: "Stand up!" and Queequeg, harpoon |
|in hand, sprang to his feet. Though     |
|not one of the oarsmen was then facing  |
|the life and death peril so close to    |
|them ahead, yet with their eyes on the  |
|intense countenance of the mate in the  |
|stern of the boat, they knew that the   |
|imminent instant had come; they heard,  |
|too, an enormous wallowing sound as     |
|of fifty elephants stirring in their    |
|litter. Meanwhile the boat was still    |
|booming through the mist, the waves     |
|curling and hissing around us like the  |
|erected crests of enraged serpents.     |
|"That's his hump. THERE, THERE, give it |
|to him!" whispered Starbuck. A short    |
|rushing sound leaped out of the boat;   |
|it was the darted iron of Queequeg.     |
|Then all in one welded commotion came   |
|an invisible push from astern, while    |
|forward the boat seemed striking on a   |
|ledge; the sail collapsed and exploded; |
|a gush of scalding vapour shot up near  |
|by; something rolled and tumbled like an|
|earthquake beneath us. The whole crew   |
|were half suffocated as they were tossed|
|helter-skelter into the white curdling  |
|cream of the squall. Squall, whale, and |
|harpoon had all blended together; and   |
|the whale, merely grazed by the iron,   |
|escaped. Though completely swamped,     |
|the boat was nearly unharmed. Swimming  |
|round it we picked up the floating oars,|
|and lashing them across the gunwale,    |
|tumbled back to our places. There we    |
|sat up to our knees in the sea, the     |
|water covering every rib and plank, so  |
|that to our downward gazing eyes the    |
|suspended craft seemed a coral boat     |
|grown up to us from the bottom of the   |
|ocean. The wind increased to a howl; the|
|waves dashed their bucklers together;   |
|the whole squall roared, forked, and    |
|crackled around us like a white fire    |
|upon the prairie, in which, unconsumed, |
|we were burning; immortal in these jaws |
|of death! In vain we hailed the other   |
|boats; as well roar to the live coals   |
|down the chimney of a flaming furnace   |
|as hail those boats in that storm.      |
|Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and   |
|mist, grew darker with the shadows      |
|of night; no sign of the ship could     |
|be seen. The rising sea forbade all     |
|attempts to bale out the boat. The oars |
|were useless as propellers, performing  |
|now the office of life-preservers. So,  |
|cutting the lashing of the waterproof   |
|match keg, after many failures Starbuck |
|contrived to ignite the lamp in the     |
|lantern; then stretching it on a waif   |
|pole, handed it to Queequeg as the      |
|standard-bearer of this forlorn hope.   |
|There, then, he sat, holding up that    |
|imbecile candle in the heart of that    |
|almighty forlornness. There, then,      |
|he sat, the sign and symbol of a man    |
|without faith, hopelessly holding up    |
|hope in the midst of despair. Wet,      |
|drenched through, and shivering cold,   |
|despairing of ship or boat, we lifted up|
|our eyes as the dawn came on. The mist  |
|still spread over the sea, the empty    |
|lantern lay crushed in the bottom of the|
|boat. Suddenly Queequeg started to his  |
|feet, hollowing his hand to his ear. We |
|all heard a faint creaking, as of ropes |
|and yards hitherto muffled by the storm.|
|The sound came nearer and nearer; the   |
|thick mists were dimly parted by a huge,|
|vague form. Affrighted, we all sprang   |
|into the sea as the ship at last loomed |
|into view, bearing right down upon us   |
|within a distance of not much more      |
|than its length. Floating on the waves  |
|we saw the abandoned boat, as for one   |
|instant it tossed and gaped beneath the |
|ship's bows like a chip at the base of a|
|cataract; and then the vast hull rolled |
|over it, and it was seen no more till   |
|it came up weltering astern. Again we   |
|swam for it, were dashed against it by  |
|the seas, and were at last taken up and |
|safely landed on board. Ere the squall  |
|came close to, the other boats had cut  |
|loose from their fish and returned to   |
|the ship in good time. The ship had     |
|given us up, but was still cruising, if |
|haply it might light upon some token    |
|of our perishing,--an oar or a lance    |
|pole. There are certain queer times and |
|occasions in this strange mixed affair  |
|we call life when a man takes this whole|
|universe for a vast practical joke,     |
|though the wit thereof he but dimly     |
|discerns, and more than suspects that   |
|the joke is at nobody's expense but his |
|own. However, nothing dispirits, and    |
|nothing seems worth while disputing.    |
|He bolts down all events, all creeds,   |
|and beliefs, and persuasions, all hard  |
|things visible and invisible, never mind|
|how knobby; as an ostrich of potent     |
|digestion gobbles down bullets and gun  |
|flints. And as for small difficulties   |
|and worryings, prospects of sudden      |
|disaster, peril of life and limb; all   |
|these, and death itself, seem to him    |
|only sly, good-natured hits, and jolly  |
|punches in the side bestowed by the     |
|unseen and unaccountable old joker. That|
|odd sort of wayward mood I am speaking  |
|of, comes over a man only in some time  |
|of extreme tribulation; it comes in the |
|very midst of his earnestness, so that  |
|what just before might have seemed to   |
|him a thing most momentous, now seems   |
|but a part of the general joke. There   |
|is nothing like the perils of whaling   |
|to breed this free and easy sort of     |
|genial, desperado philosophy; and with  |
|it I now regarded this whole voyage of  |
|the Pequod, and the great White Whale   |
|its object. "Queequeg," said I, when    |
|they had dragged me, the last man, to   |
|the deck, and I was still shaking myself|
|in my jacket to fling off the water;    |
|"Queequeg, my fine friend, does this    |
|sort of thing often happen?" Without    |
|much emotion, though soaked through     |
|just like me, he gave me to understand  |
|that such things did often happen. "Mr. |
|Stubb," said I, turning to that worthy, |
|who, buttoned up in his oil-jacket,     |
|was now calmly smoking his pipe in the  |
|rain; "Mr. Stubb, I think I have heard  |
|you say that of all whalemen you ever   |
|met, our chief mate, Mr. Starbuck, is   |
|by far the most careful and prudent.    |
|I suppose then, that going plump on     |
|a flying whale with your sail set in    |
|a foggy squall is the height of a       |
|whaleman's discretion?" "Certain. I've  |
|lowered for whales from a leaking ship  |
|in a gale off Cape Horn." "Mr. Flask,"  |
|said I, turning to little King-Post,    |
|who was standing close by; "you are     |
|experienced in these things, and I am   |
|not. Will you tell me whether it is     |
|an unalterable law in this fishery,     |
|Mr. Flask, for an oarsman to break his  |
|own back pulling himself back-foremost  |
|into death's jaws?" "Can't you twist    |
|that smaller?" said Flask. "Yes, that's |
|the law. I should like to see a boat's  |
|crew backing water up to a whale face   |
|foremost. Ha, ha! the whale would give  |
|them squint for squint, mind that!" Here|
|then, from three impartial witnesses, I |
|had a deliberate statement of the entire|
|case. Considering, therefore, that      |
|squalls and capsizings in the water and |
|consequent bivouacks on the deep, were  |
|matters of common occurrence in this    |
|kind of life; considering that at the   |
|superlatively critical instant of going |
|on to the whale I must resign my life   |
|into the hands of him who steered the   |
|boat--oftentimes a fellow who at that   |
|very moment is in his impetuousness upon|
|the point of scuttling the craft with   |
|his own frantic stampings; considering  |
|that the particular disaster to our     |
|own particular boat was chiefly to be   |
|imputed to Starbuck's driving on to     |
|his whale almost in the teeth of a      |
|squall, and considering that Starbuck,  |
|notwithstanding, was famous for his     |
|great heedfulness in the fishery;       |
|considering that I belonged to this     |
|uncommonly prudent Starbuck's boat; and |
|finally considering in what a devil's   |
|chase I was implicated, touching the    |
|White Whale: taking all things together,|
|I say, I thought I might as well go     |
|below and make a rough draft of my      |
|will. "Queequeg," said I, "come along,  |
|you shall be my lawyer, executor, and   |
|legatee." It may seem strange that of   |
|all men sailors should be tinkering at  |
|their last wills and testaments, but    |
|there are no people in the world more   |
|fond of that diversion. This was the    |
|fourth time in my nautical life that    |
|I had done the same thing. After the    |
|ceremony was concluded upon the present |
|occasion, I felt all the easier; a stone|
|was rolled away from my heart. Besides, |
|all the days I should now live would be |
|as good as the days that Lazarus lived  |
|after his resurrection; a supplementary |
|clean gain of so many months or weeks as|
|the case might be. I survived myself;   |
|my death and burial were locked up in   |
|my chest. I looked round me tranquilly  |
|and contentedly, like a quiet ghost     |
|with a clean conscience sitting inside  |
|the bars of a snug family vault. Now    |
|then, thought I, unconsciously rolling  |
|up the sleeves of my frock, here goes   |
|for a cool, collected dive at death and |
|destruction, and the devil fetch the    |
|hindmost. "Who would have thought it,   |
|Flask!" cried Stubb; "if I had but one  |
|leg you would not catch me in a boat,   |
|unless maybe to stop the plug-hole with |
|my timber toe. Oh! he's a wonderful old |
|man!" "I don't think it so strange,     |
|after all, on that account," said       |
|Flask. "If his leg were off at the hip, |
|now, it would be a different thing.     |
|That would disable him; but he has      |
|one knee, and good part of the other    |
|left, you know." "I don't know that, my |
|little man; I never yet saw him kneel." |
|Among whale-wise people it has often    |
|been argued whether, considering the    |
|paramount importance of his life to the |
|success of the voyage, it is right for  |
|a whaling captain to jeopardize that    |
|life in the active perils of the chase. |
|So Tamerlane's soldiers often argued    |
|with tears in their eyes, whether that  |
|invaluable life of his ought to be      |
|carried into the thickest of the fight. |
|But with Ahab the question assumed a    |
|modified aspect. Considering that with  |
|two legs man is but a hobbling wight in |
|all times of danger; considering that   |
|the pursuit of whales is always under   |
|great and extraordinary difficulties;   |
|that every individual moment, indeed,   |
|then comprises a peril; under these     |
|circumstances is it wise for any maimed |
|man to enter a whale-boat in the hunt?  |
|As a general thing, the joint-owners of |
|the Pequod must have plainly thought    |
|not. Ahab well knew that although his   |
|friends at home would think little      |
|of his entering a boat in certain       |
|comparatively harmless vicissitudes of  |
|the chase, for the sake of being near   |
|the scene of action and giving his      |
|orders in person, yet for Captain Ahab  |
|to have a boat actually apportioned     |
|to him as a regular headsman in the     |
|hunt--above all for Captain Ahab to     |
|be supplied with five extra men, as     |
|that same boat's crew, he well knew     |
|that such generous conceits never       |
|entered the heads of the owners of the  |
|Pequod. Therefore he had not solicited  |
|a boat's crew from them, nor had he     |
|in any way hinted his desires on        |
|that head. Nevertheless he had taken    |
|private measures of his own touching    |
|all that matter. Until Cabaco's         |
|published discovery, the sailors had    |
|little foreseen it, though to be sure   |
|when, after being a little while out    |
|of port, all hands had concluded the    |
|customary business of fitting the       |
|whaleboats for service; when some time  |
|after this Ahab was now and then found  |
|bestirring himself in the matter of     |
|making thole-pins with his own hands for|
|what was thought to be one of the spare |
|boats, and even solicitously cutting    |
|the small wooden skewers, which when    |
|the line is running out are pinned over |
|the groove in the bow: when all this    |
|was observed in him, and particularly   |
|his solicitude in having an extra coat  |
|of sheathing in the bottom of the boat, |
|as if to make it better withstand the   |
|pointed pressure of his ivory limb; and |
|also the anxiety he evinced in exactly  |
|shaping the thigh board, or clumsy      |
|cleat, as it is sometimes called, the   |
|horizontal piece in the boat's bow for  |
|bracing the knee against in darting     |
|or stabbing at the whale; when it was   |
|observed how often he stood up in that  |
|boat with his solitary knee fixed in the|
|semi-circular depression in the cleat,  |
|and with the carpenter's chisel gouged  |
|out a little here and straightened it   |
|a little there; all these things, I     |
|say, had awakened much interest and     |
|curiosity at the time. But almost       |
|everybody supposed that this particular |
|preparative heedfulness in Ahab must    |
|only be with a view to the ultimate     |
|chase of Moby Dick; for he had already  |
|revealed his intention to hunt that     |
|mortal monster in person. But such a    |
|supposition did by no means involve the |
|remotest suspicion as to any boat's crew|
|being assigned to that boat. Now, with  |
|the subordinate phantoms, what wonder   |
|remained soon waned away; for in a      |
|whaler wonders soon wane. Besides, now  |
|and then such unaccountable odds and    |
|ends of strange nations come up from    |
|the unknown nooks and ash-holes of the  |
|earth to man these floating outlaws of  |
|whalers; and the ships themselves often |
|pick up such queer castaway creatures   |
|found tossing about the open sea on     |
|planks, bits of wreck, oars, whaleboats,|
|canoes, blown-off Japanese junks, and   |
|what not; that Beelzebub himself might  |
|climb up the side and step down into    |
|the cabin to chat with the captain, and |
|it would not create any unsubduable     |
|excitement in the forecastle. But be    |
|all this as it may, certain it is that  |
|while the subordinate phantoms soon     |
|found their place among the crew, though|
|still as it were somehow distinct from  |
|them, yet that hair-turbaned Fedallah   |
|remained a muffled mystery to the last. |
|Whence he came in a mannerly world like |
|this, by what sort of unaccountable     |
|tie he soon evinced himself to be       |
|linked with Ahab's peculiar fortunes;   |
|nay, so far as to have some sort of a   |
|half-hinted influence; Heaven knows,    |
|but it might have been even authority   |
|over him; all this none knew. But one   |
|cannot sustain an indifferent air       |
|concerning Fedallah. He was such a      |
|creature as civilized, domestic people  |
|in the temperate zone only see in their |
|dreams, and that but dimly; but the     |
|like of whom now and then glide among   |
|the unchanging Asiatic communities,     |
|especially the Oriental isles to the    |
|east of the continent--those insulated, |
|immemorial, unalterable countries, which|
|even in these modern days still preserve|
|much of the ghostly aboriginalness      |
|of earth's primal generations, when     |
|the memory of the first man was a       |
|distinct recollection, and all men      |
|his descendants, unknowing whence he    |
|came, eyed each other as real phantoms, |
|and asked of the sun and the moon why   |
|they were created and to what end;      |
|when though, according to Genesis,      |
|the angels indeed consorted with the    |
|daughters of men, the devils also, add  |
|the uncanonical Rabbins, indulged in    |
|mundane amours. Days, weeks passed,     |
|and under easy sail, the ivory Pequod   |
|had slowly swept across four several    |
|cruising-grounds; that off the Azores;  |
|off the Cape de Verdes; on the Plate    |
|(so called), being off the mouth of the |
|Rio de la Plata; and the Carrol Ground, |
|an unstaked, watery locality, southerly |
|from St. Helena. It was while gliding   |
|through these latter waters that one    |
|serene and moonlight night, when all the|
|waves rolled by like scrolls of silver; |
|and, by their soft, suffusing seethings,|
|made what seemed a silvery silence, not |
|a solitude; on such a silent night a    |
|silvery jet was seen far in advance of  |
|the white bubbles at the bow. Lit up by |
|the moon, it looked celestial; seemed   |
|some plumed and glittering god uprising |
|from the sea. Fedallah first descried   |
|this jet. For of these moonlight        |
|nights, it was his wont to mount to the |
|main-mast head, and stand a look-out    |
|there, with the same precision as if    |
|it had been day. And yet, though herds  |
|of whales were seen by night, not one   |
|whaleman in a hundred would venture a   |
|lowering for them. You may think with   |
|what emotions, then, the seamen beheld  |
|this old Oriental perched aloft at such |
|unusual hours; his turban and the moon, |
|companions in one sky. But when, after  |
|spending his uniform interval there     |
|for several successive nights without   |
|uttering a single sound; when, after all|
|this silence, his unearthly voice was   |
|heard announcing that silvery, moon-lit |
|jet, every reclining mariner started    |
|to his feet as if some winged spirit    |
|had lighted in the rigging, and hailed  |
|the mortal crew. "There she blows!"     |
|Had the trump of judgment blown, they   |
|could not have quivered more; yet still |
|they felt no terror; rather pleasure.   |
|For though it was a most unwonted hour, |
|yet so impressive was the cry, and so   |
|deliriously exciting, that almost every |
|soul on board instinctively desired a   |
|lowering. Walking the deck with quick,  |
|side-lunging strides, Ahab commanded    |
|the t'gallant sails and royals to be    |
|set, and every stunsail spread. The best|
|man in the ship must take the helm.     |
|Then, with every mast-head manned, the  |
|piled-up craft rolled down before the   |
|wind. The strange, upheaving, lifting   |
|tendency of the taffrail breeze filling |
|the hollows of so many sails, made the  |
|buoyant, hovering deck to feel like air |
|beneath the feet; while still she rushed|
|along, as if two antagonistic influences|
|were struggling in her--one to mount    |
|direct to heaven, the other to drive    |
|yawingly to some horizontal goal. And   |
|had you watched Ahab's face that night, |
|you would have thought that in him also |
|two different things were warring. While|
|his one live leg made lively echoes     |
|along the deck, every stroke of his     |
|dead limb sounded like a coffin-tap.    |
|On life and death this old man walked.  |
|But though the ship so swiftly sped,    |
|and though from every eye, like arrows, |
|the eager glances shot, yet the silvery |
|jet was no more seen that night. Every  |
|sailor swore he saw it once, but not    |
|a second time. This midnight-spout      |
|had almost grown a forgotten thing,     |
|when, some days after, lo! at the same  |
|silent hour, it was again announced:    |
|again it was descried by all; but upon  |
|making sail to overtake it, once more   |
|it disappeared as if it had never been. |
|And so it served us night after night,  |
|till no one heeded it but to wonder     |
|at it. Mysteriously jetted into the     |
|clear moonlight, or starlight, as the   |
|case might be; disappearing again for   |
|one whole day, or two days, or three;   |
|and somehow seeming at every distinct   |
|repetition to be advancing still further|
|and further in our van, this solitary   |
|jet seemed for ever alluring us on. Nor |
|with the immemorial superstition of     |
|their race, and in accordance with the  |
|preternaturalness, as it seemed, which  |
|in many things invested the Pequod,     |
|were there wanting some of the seamen   |
|who swore that whenever and wherever    |
|descried; at however remote times, or   |
|in however far apart latitudes and      |
|longitudes, that unnearable spout was   |
|cast by one self-same whale; and that   |
|whale, Moby Dick. For a time, there     |
|reigned, too, a sense of peculiar dread |
|at this flitting apparition, as if it   |
|were treacherously beckoning us on and  |
|on, in order that the monster might turn|
|round upon us, and rend us at last in   |
|the remotest and most savage seas. These|
|temporary apprehensions, so vague but   |
|so awful, derived a wondrous potency    |
|from the contrasting serenity of the    |
|weather, in which, beneath all its blue |
|blandness, some thought there lurked a  |
|devilish charm, as for days and days we |
|voyaged along, through seas so wearily, |
|lonesomely mild, that all space, in     |
|repugnance to our vengeful errand,      |
|seemed vacating itself of life before   |
|our urn-like prow. But, at last, when   |
|turning to the eastward, the Cape winds |
|began howling around us, and we rose    |
|and fell upon the long, troubled seas   |
|that are there; when the ivory-tusked   |
|Pequod sharply bowed to the blast, and  |
|gored the dark waves in her madness,    |
|till, like showers of silver chips, the |
|foam-flakes flew over her bulwarks;     |
|then all this desolate vacuity of life  |
|went away, but gave place to sights     |
|more dismal than before. Close to our   |
|bows, strange forms in the water darted |
|hither and thither before us; while     |
|thick in our rear flew the inscrutable  |
|sea-ravens. And every morning, perched  |
|on our stays, rows of these birds were  |
|seen; and spite of our hootings, for a  |
|long time obstinately clung to the hemp,|
|as though they deemed our ship some     |
|drifting, uninhabited craft; a thing    |
|appointed to desolation, and therefore  |
|fit roosting-place for their homeless   |
|selves. And heaved and heaved, still    |
|unrestingly heaved the black sea, as    |
|if its vast tides were a conscience;    |
|and the great mundane soul were in      |
|anguish and remorse for the long sin    |
|and suffering it had bred. Cape of Good |
|Hope, do they call ye? Rather Cape      |
|Tormentoto, as called of yore; for long |
|allured by the perfidious silences      |
|that before had attended us, we found   |
|ourselves launched into this tormented  |
|sea, where guilty beings transformed    |
|into those fowls and these fish, seemed |
|condemned to swim on everlastingly      |
|without any haven in store, or beat     |
|that black air without any horizon. But |
|calm, snow-white, and unvarying; still  |
|directing its fountain of feathers to   |
|the sky; still beckoning us on from     |
|before, the solitary jet would at times |
|be descried. During all this blackness  |
|of the elements, Ahab, though assuming  |
|for the time the almost continual       |
|command of the drenched and dangerous   |
|deck, manifested the gloomiest reserve; |
|and more seldom than ever addressed his |
|mates. In tempestuous times like these, |
|after everything above and aloft has    |
|been secured, nothing more can be done  |
|but passively to await the issue of     |
|the gale. Then Captain and crew become  |
|practical fatalists. So, with his ivory |
|leg inserted into its accustomed hole,  |
|and with one hand firmly grasping a     |
|shroud, Ahab for hours and hours would  |
|stand gazing dead to windward, while    |
|an occasional squall of sleet or snow   |
|would all but congeal his very eyelashes|
|together. Meantime, the crew driven     |
|from the forward part of the ship by    |
|the perilous seas that burstingly broke |
|over its bows, stood in a line along the|
|bulwarks in the waist; and the better   |
|to guard against the leaping waves,     |
|each man had slipped himself into a     |
|sort of bowline secured to the rail, in |
|which he swung as in a loosened belt.   |
|Few or no words were spoken; and the    |
|silent ship, as if manned by painted    |
|sailors in wax, day after day tore      |
|on through all the swift madness and    |
|gladness of the demoniac waves. By night|
|the same muteness of humanity before    |
|the shrieks of the ocean prevailed;     |
|still in silence the men swung in the   |
|bowlines; still wordless Ahab stood up  |
|to the blast. Even when wearied nature  |
|seemed demanding repose he would not    |
|seek that repose in his hammock. Never  |
|could Starbuck forget the old man's     |
|aspect, when one night going down into  |
|the cabin to mark how the barometer     |
|stood, he saw him with closed eyes      |
|sitting straight in his floor-screwed   |
|chair; the rain and half-melted sleet of|
|the storm from which he had some time   |
|before emerged, still slowly dripping   |
|from the unremoved hat and coat. On the |
|table beside him lay unrolled one of    |
|those charts of tides and currents which|
|have previously been spoken of. His     |
|lantern swung from his tightly clenched |
|hand. Though the body was erect, the    |
|head was thrown back so that the closed |
|eyes were pointed towards the needle of |
|the tell-tale that swung from a beam    |
|in the ceiling. The cabin-compass is    |
|called the tell-tale, because without   |
|going to the compass at the helm,       |
|the Captain, while below, can inform    |
|himself of the course of the ship.      |
|Terrible old man! thought Starbuck with |
|a shudder, sleeping in this gale, still |
|thou steadfastly eyest thy purpose.     |
|South-eastward from the Cape, off the   |
|distant Crozetts, a good cruising ground|
|for Right Whalemen, a sail loomed ahead,|
|the Goney (Albatross) by name. As she   |
|slowly drew nigh, from my lofty perch at|
|the fore-mast-head, I had a good view   |
|of that sight so remarkable to a tyro   |
|in the far ocean fisheries--a whaler at |
|sea, and long absent from home. As if   |
|the waves had been fullers, this craft  |
|was bleached like the skeleton of a     |
|stranded walrus. All down her sides,    |
|this spectral appearance was traced     |
|with long channels of reddened rust,    |
|while all her spars and her rigging     |
|were like the thick branches of trees   |
|furred over with hoar-frost. Only her   |
|lower sails were set. A wild sight it   |
|was to see her long-bearded look-outs   |
|at those three mast-heads. They seemed  |
|clad in the skins of beasts, so torn and|
|bepatched the raiment that had survived |
|nearly four years of cruising. Standing |
|in iron hoops nailed to the mast, they  |
|swayed and swung over a fathomless sea; |
|and though, when the ship slowly glided |
|close under our stern, we six men in    |
|the air came so nigh to each other      |
|that we might almost have leaped from   |
|the mast-heads of one ship to those of  |
|the other; yet, those forlorn-looking   |
|fishermen, mildly eyeing us as they     |
|passed, said not one word to our own    |
|look-outs, while the quarter-deck hail  |
|was being heard from below. "Ship ahoy! |
|Have ye seen the White Whale?" But as   |
|the strange captain, leaning over the   |
|pallid bulwarks, was in the act of      |
|putting his trumpet to his mouth, it    |
|somehow fell from his hand into the     |
|sea; and the wind now rising amain, he  |
|in vain strove to make himself heard    |
|without it. Meantime his ship was still |
|increasing the distance between. While  |
|in various silent ways the seamen of the|
|Pequod were evincing their observance   |
|of this ominous incident at the first   |
|mere mention of the White Whale's name  |
|to another ship, Ahab for a moment      |
|paused; it almost seemed as though he   |
|would have lowered a boat to board      |
|the stranger, had not the threatening   |
|wind forbade. But taking advantage      |
|of his windward position, he again      |
|seized his trumpet, and knowing by her  |
|aspect that the stranger vessel was a   |
|Nantucketer and shortly bound home, he  |
|loudly hailed--"Ahoy there! This is the |
|Pequod, bound round the world! Tell     |
|them to address all future letters to   |
|the Pacific ocean! and this time three  |
|years, if I am not at home, tell them   |
|to address them to--" At that moment    |
|the two wakes were fairly crossed, and  |
|instantly, then, in accordance with     |
|their singular ways, shoals of small    |
|harmless fish, that for some days before|
|had been placidly swimming by our side, |
|darted away with what seemed shuddering |
|fins, and ranged themselves fore and aft|
|with the stranger's flanks. Though in   |
|the course of his continual voyagings   |
|Ahab must often before have noticed a   |
|similar sight, yet, to any monomaniac   |
|man, the veriest trifles capriciously   |
|carry meanings. "Swim away from me, do  |
|ye?" murmured Ahab, gazing over into the|
|water. There seemed but little in the   |
|words, but the tone conveyed more of    |
|deep helpless sadness than the insane   |
|old man had ever before evinced. But    |
|turning to the steersman, who thus far  |
|had been holding the ship in the wind   |
|to diminish her headway, he cried out   |
|in his old lion voice,--"Up helm! Keep  |
|her off round the world!" Round the     |
|world! There is much in that sound to   |
|inspire proud feelings; but whereto     |
|does all that circumnavigation conduct? |
|Only through numberless perils to the   |
|very point whence we started, where     |
|those that we left behind secure, were  |
|all the time before us. Were this       |
|world an endless plain, and by sailing  |
|eastward we could for ever reach new    |
|distances, and discover sights more     |
|sweet and strange than any Cyclades or  |
|Islands of King Solomon, then there were|
|promise in the voyage. But in pursuit   |
|of those far mysteries we dream of,     |
|or in tormented chase of that demon     |
|phantom that, some time or other,       |
|swims before all human hearts; while    |
|chasing such over this round globe, they|
|either lead us on in barren mazes or    |
|midway leave us whelmed. The ostensible |
|reason why Ahab did not go on board     |
|of the whaler we had spoken was this:   |
|the wind and sea betokened storms.      |
|But even had this not been the case,    |
|he would not after all, perhaps, have   |
|boarded her--judging by his subsequent  |
|conduct on similar occasions--if so     |
|it had been that, by the process of     |
|hailing, he had obtained a negative     |
|answer to the question he put. For, as  |
|it eventually turned out, he cared not  |
|to consort, even for five minutes, with |
|any stranger captain, except he could   |
|contribute some of that information he  |
|so absorbingly sought. But all this     |
|might remain inadequately estimated,    |
|were not something said here of the     |
|peculiar usages of whaling-vessels when |
|meeting each other in foreign seas, and |
|especially on a common cruising-ground. |
|If two strangers crossing the Pine      |
|Barrens in New York State, or the       |
|equally desolate Salisbury Plain in     |
|England; if casually encountering each  |
|other in such inhospitable wilds, these |
|twain, for the life of them, cannot     |
|well avoid a mutual salutation; and     |
|stopping for a moment to interchange the|
|news; and, perhaps, sitting down for    |
|a while and resting in concert: then,   |
|how much more natural that upon the     |
|illimitable Pine Barrens and Salisbury  |
|Plains of the sea, two whaling vessels  |
|descrying each other at the ends of     |
|the earth--off lone Fanning's Island,   |
|or the far away King's Mills; how much  |
|more natural, I say, that under such    |
|circumstances these ships should not    |
|only interchange hails, but come into   |
|still closer, more friendly and sociable|
|contact. And especially would this seem |
|to be a matter of course, in the case   |
|of vessels owned in one seaport, and    |
|whose captains, officers, and not a     |
|few of the men are personally known to  |
|each other; and consequently, have all  |
|sorts of dear domestic things to talk   |
|about. For the long absent ship, the    |
|outward-bounder, perhaps, has letters   |
|on board; at any rate, she will be      |
|sure to let her have some papers of     |
|a date a year or two later than the     |
|last one on her blurred and thumb-worn  |
|files. And in return for that courtesy, |
|the outward-bound ship would receive    |
|the latest whaling intelligence from    |
|the cruising-ground to which she may    |
|be destined, a thing of the utmost      |
|importance to her. And in degree, all   |
|this will hold true concerning whaling  |
|vessels crossing each other's track     |
|on the cruising-ground itself, even     |
|though they are equally long absent     |
|from home. For one of them may have     |
|received a transfer of letters from     |
|some third, and now far remote vessel;  |
|and some of those letters may be for    |
|the people of the ship she now meets.   |
|Besides, they would exchange the whaling|
|news, and have an agreeable chat. For   |
|not only would they meet with all the   |
|sympathies of sailors, but likewise     |
|with all the peculiar congenialities    |
|arising from a common pursuit and       |
|mutually shared privations and perils.  |
|Nor would difference of country make    |
|any very essential difference; that     |
|is, so long as both parties speak one   |
|language, as is the case with Americans |
|and English. Though, to be sure, from   |
|the small number of English whalers,    |
|such meetings do not very often occur,  |
|and when they do occur there is too     |
|apt to be a sort of shyness between     |
|them; for your Englishman is rather     |
|reserved, and your Yankee, he does not  |
|fancy that sort of thing in anybody but |
|himself. Besides, the English whalers   |
|sometimes affect a kind of metropolitan |
|superiority over the American whalers;  |
|regarding the long, lean Nantucketer,   |
|with his nondescript provincialisms, as |
|a sort of sea-peasant. But where this   |
|superiority in the English whalemen does|
|really consist, it would be hard to say,|
|seeing that the Yankees in one day,     |
|collectively, kill more whales than all |
|the English, collectively, in ten years.|
|But this is a harmless little foible in |
|the English whale-hunters, which the    |
|Nantucketer does not take much to heart;|
|probably, because he knows that he has  |
|a few foibles himself. So, then, we see |
|that of all ships separately sailing the|
|sea, the whalers have most reason to    |
|be sociable--and they are so. Whereas,  |
|some merchant ships crossing each       |
|other's wake in the mid-Atlantic, will  |
|oftentimes pass on without so much as   |
|a single word of recognition, mutually  |
|cutting each other on the high seas,    |
|like a brace of dandies in Broadway;    |
|and all the time indulging, perhaps, in |
|finical criticism upon each other's rig.|
|As for Men-of-War, when they chance to  |
|meet at sea, they first go through such |
|a string of silly bowings and scrapings,|
|such a ducking of ensigns, that there   |
|does not seem to be much right-down     |
|hearty good-will and brotherly love     |
|about it at all. As touching Slave-ships|
|meeting, why, they are in such a        |
|prodigious hurry, they run away from    |
|each other as soon as possible. And as  |
|for Pirates, when they chance to cross  |
|each other's cross-bones, the first hail|
|is--"How many skulls?"--the same way    |
|that whalers hail--"How many barrels?"  |
|And that question once answered, pirates|
|straightway steer apart, for they are   |
|infernal villains on both sides, and    |
|don't like to see overmuch of each      |
|other's villanous likenesses. But look  |
|at the godly, honest, unostentatious,   |
|hospitable, sociable, free-and-easy     |
|whaler! What does the whaler do when    |
|she meets another whaler in any sort    |
|of decent weather? She has a "GAM," a   |
|thing so utterly unknown to all other   |
|ships that they never heard of the name |
|even; and if by chance they should      |
|hear of it, they only grin at it, and   |
|repeat gamesome stuff about "spouters"  |
|and "blubber-boilers," and such like    |
|pretty exclamations. Why it is that all |
|Merchant-seamen, and also all Pirates   |
|and Man-of-War's men, and Slave-ship    |
|sailors, cherish such a scornful feeling|
|towards Whale-ships; this is a question |
|it would be hard to answer. Because,    |
|in the case of pirates, say, I should   |
|like to know whether that profession of |
|theirs has any peculiar glory about it. |
|It sometimes ends in uncommon elevation,|
|indeed; but only at the gallows. And    |
|besides, when a man is elevated in that |
|odd fashion, he has no proper foundation|
|for his superior altitude. Hence, I     |
|conclude, that in boasting himself to be|
|high lifted above a whaleman, in that   |
|assertion the pirate has no solid basis |
|to stand on. But what is a GAM? You     |
|might wear out your index-finger running|
|up and down the columns of dictionaries,|
|and never find the word. Dr. Johnson    |
|never attained to that erudition;       |
|Noah Webster's ark does not hold it.    |
|Nevertheless, this same expressive word |
|has now for many years been in constant |
|use among some fifteen thousand true    |
|born Yankees. Certainly, it needs a     |
|definition, and should be incorporated  |
|into the Lexicon. With that view, let me|
|learnedly define it. GAM. NOUN--A SOCIAL|
|MEETING OF TWO (OR MORE) WHALESHIPS,    |
|GENERALLY ON A CRUISING-GROUND; WHEN,   |
|AFTER EXCHANGING HAILS, THEY EXCHANGE   |
|VISITS BY BOATS' CREWS; THE TWO CAPTAINS|
|REMAINING, FOR THE TIME, ON BOARD OF    |
|ONE SHIP, AND THE TWO CHIEF MATES ON    |
|THE OTHER. There is another little      |
|item about Gamming which must not be    |
|forgotten here. All professions have    |
|their own little peculiarities of       |
|detail; so has the whale fishery. In a  |
|pirate, man-of-war, or slave ship, when |
|the captain is rowed anywhere in his    |
|boat, he always sits in the stern sheets|
|on a comfortable, sometimes cushioned   |
|seat there, and often steers himself    |
|with a pretty little milliner's tiller  |
|decorated with gay cords and ribbons.   |
|But the whale-boat has no seat astern,  |
|no sofa of that sort whatever, and no   |
|tiller at all. High times indeed, if    |
|whaling captains were wheeled about     |
|the water on castors like gouty old     |
|aldermen in patent chairs. And as for a |
|tiller, the whale-boat never admits of  |
|any such effeminacy; and therefore as   |
|in gamming a complete boat's crew must  |
|leave the ship, and hence as the boat   |
|steerer or harpooneer is of the number, |
|that subordinate is the steersman       |
|upon the occasion, and the captain,     |
|having no place to sit in, is pulled    |
|off to his visit all standing like a    |
|pine tree. And often you will notice    |
|that being conscious of the eyes of     |
|the whole visible world resting on him  |
|from the sides of the two ships, this   |
|standing captain is all alive to the    |
|importance of sustaining his dignity by |
|maintaining his legs. Nor is this any   |
|very easy matter; for in his rear is the|
|immense projecting steering oar hitting |
|him now and then in the small of his    |
|back, the after-oar reciprocating by    |
|rapping his knees in front. He is thus  |
|completely wedged before and behind,    |
|and can only expand himself sideways by |
|settling down on his stretched legs;    |
|but a sudden, violent pitch of the      |
|boat will often go far to topple him,   |
|because length of foundation is nothing |
|without corresponding breadth. Merely   |
|make a spread angle of two poles, and   |
|you cannot stand them up. Then, again,  |
|it would never do in plain sight of the |
|world's riveted eyes, it would never do,|
|I say, for this straddling captain to   |
|be seen steadying himself the slightest |
|particle by catching hold of anything   |
|with his hands; indeed, as token of     |
|his entire, buoyant self-command, he    |
|generally carries his hands in his      |
|trowsers' pockets; but perhaps being    |
|generally very large, heavy hands,      |
|he carries them there for ballast.      |
|Nevertheless there have occurred        |
|instances, well authenticated ones too, |
|where the captain has been known for an |
|uncommonly critical moment or two, in   |
|a sudden squall say--to seize hold of   |
|the nearest oarsman's hair, and hold    |
|on there like grim death. The Cape of   |
|Good Hope, and all the watery region    |
|round about there, is much like some    |
|noted four corners of a great highway,  |
|where you meet more travellers than in  |
|any other part. It was not very long    |
|after speaking the Goney that another   |
|homeward-bound whaleman, the Town-Ho,*  |
|was encountered. She was manned almost  |
|wholly by Polynesians. In the short     |
|gam that ensued she gave us strong      |
|news of Moby Dick. To some the general  |
|interest in the White Whale was now     |
|wildly heightened by a circumstance     |
|of the Town-Ho's story, which seemed    |
|obscurely to involve with the whale a   |
|certain wondrous, inverted visitation of|
|one of those so called judgments of God |
|which at times are said to overtake some|
|men. This latter circumstance, with its |
|own particular accompaniments, forming  |
|what may be called the secret part of   |
|the tragedy about to be narrated, never |
|reached the ears of Captain Ahab or     |
|his mates. For that secret part of the  |
|story was unknown to the captain of the |
|Town-Ho himself. It was the private     |
|property of three confederate white     |
|seamen of that ship, one of whom, it    |
|seems, communicated it to Tashtego with |
|Romish injunctions of secrecy, but the  |
|following night Tashtego rambled in     |
|his sleep, and revealed so much of it   |
|in that way, that when he was wakened   |
|he could not well withhold the rest.    |
|Nevertheless, so potent an influence did|
|this thing have on those seamen in the  |
|Pequod who came to the full knowledge   |
|of it, and by such a strange delicacy,  |
|to call it so, were they governed in    |
|this matter, that they kept the secret  |
|among themselves so that it never       |
|transpired abaft the Pequod's main-mast.|
|Interweaving in its proper place this   |
|darker thread with the story as publicly|
|narrated on the ship, the whole of this |
|strange affair I now proceed to put on  |
|lasting record. The ancient whale-cry   |
|upon first sighting a whale from the    |
|mast-head, still used by whalemen in    |
|hunting the famous Gallipagos terrapin. |
|For my humor's sake, I shall preserve   |
|the style in which I once narrated it at|
|Lima, to a lounging circle of my Spanish|
|friends, one saint's eve, smoking upon  |
|the thick-gilt tiled piazza of the      |
|Golden Inn. Of those fine cavaliers,    |
|the young Dons, Pedro and Sebastian,    |
|were on the closer terms with me; and   |
|hence the interluding questions they    |
|occasionally put, and which are duly    |
|answered at the time. "Some two years   |
|prior to my first learning the events   |
|which I am about rehearsing to you,     |
|gentlemen, the Town-Ho, Sperm Whaler of |
|Nantucket, was cruising in your Pacific |
|here, not very many days' sail eastward |
|from the eaves of this good Golden Inn. |
|She was somewhere to the northward of   |
|the Line. One morning upon handling the |
|pumps, according to daily usage, it was |
|observed that she made more water in    |
|her hold than common. They supposed a   |
|sword-fish had stabbed her, gentlemen.  |
|But the captain, having some unusual    |
|reason for believing that rare good     |
|luck awaited him in those latitudes;    |
|and therefore being very averse to      |
|quit them, and the leak not being then  |
|considered at all dangerous, though,    |
|indeed, they could not find it after    |
|searching the hold as low down as was   |
|possible in rather heavy weather, the   |
|ship still continued her cruisings, the |
|mariners working at the pumps at wide   |
|and easy intervals; but no good luck    |
|came; more days went by, and not only   |
|was the leak yet undiscovered, but it   |
|sensibly increased. So much so, that now|
|taking some alarm, the captain, making  |
|all sail, stood away for the nearest    |
|harbor among the islands, there to have |
|his hull hove out and repaired. "Though |
|no small passage was before her, yet,   |
|if the commonest chance favoured, he    |
|did not at all fear that his ship would |
|founder by the way, because his pumps   |
|were of the best, and being periodically|
|relieved at them, those six-and-thirty  |
|men of his could easily keep the ship   |
|free; never mind if the leak should     |
|double on her. In truth, well nigh the  |
|whole of this passage being attended by |
|very prosperous breezes, the Town-Ho    |
|had all but certainly arrived in        |
|perfect safety at her port without the  |
|occurrence of the least fatality, had   |
|it not been for the brutal overbearing  |
|of Radney, the mate, a Vineyarder,      |
|and the bitterly provoked vengeance     |
|of Steelkilt, a Lakeman and desperado   |
|from Buffalo. "'Lakeman!--Buffalo!      |
|Pray, what is a Lakeman, and where is   |
|Buffalo?' said Don Sebastian, rising    |
|in his swinging mat of grass. "On the   |
|eastern shore of our Lake Erie, Don;    |
|but--I crave your courtesy--may be, you |
|shall soon hear further of all that.    |
|Now, gentlemen, in square-sail brigs    |
|and three-masted ships, well-nigh as    |
|large and stout as any that ever sailed |
|out of your old Callao to far Manilla;  |
|this Lakeman, in the land-locked heart  |
|of our America, had yet been nurtured   |
|by all those agrarian freebooting       |
|impressions popularly connected with the|
|open ocean. For in their interflowing   |
|aggregate, those grand fresh-water seas |
|of ours,--Erie, and Ontario, and Huron, |
|and Superior, and Michigan,--possess    |
|an ocean-like expansiveness, with many  |
|of the ocean's noblest traits; with     |
|many of its rimmed varieties of races   |
|and of climes. They contain round       |
|archipelagoes of romantic isles, even as|
|the Polynesian waters do; in large part,|
|are shored by two great contrasting     |
|nations, as the Atlantic is; they       |
|furnish long maritime approaches to our |
|numerous territorial colonies from the  |
|East, dotted all round their banks; here|
|and there are frowned upon by batteries,|
|and by the goat-like craggy guns of     |
|lofty Mackinaw; they have heard the     |
|fleet thunderings of naval victories; at|
|intervals, they yield their beaches to  |
|wild barbarians, whose red painted faces|
|flash from out their peltry wigwams;    |
|for leagues and leagues are flanked by  |
|ancient and unentered forests, where    |
|the gaunt pines stand like serried      |
|lines of kings in Gothic genealogies;   |
|those same woods harboring wild Afric   |
|beasts of prey, and silken creatures    |
|whose exported furs give robes to       |
|Tartar Emperors; they mirror the paved  |
|capitals of Buffalo and Cleveland, as   |
|well as Winnebago villages; they float  |
|alike the full-rigged merchant ship,    |
|the armed cruiser of the State, the     |
|steamer, and the beech canoe; they are  |
|swept by Borean and dismasting blasts   |
|as direful as any that lash the salted  |
|wave; they know what shipwrecks are, for|
|out of sight of land, however inland,   |
|they have drowned full many a midnight  |
|ship with all its shrieking crew. Thus, |
|gentlemen, though an inlander, Steelkilt|
|was wild-ocean born, and wild-ocean     |
|nurtured; as much of an audacious       |
|mariner as any. And for Radney, though  |
|in his infancy he may have laid him down|
|on the lone Nantucket beach, to nurse   |
|at his maternal sea; though in after    |
|life he had long followed our austere   |
|Atlantic and your contemplative Pacific;|
|yet was he quite as vengeful and full of|
|social quarrel as the backwoods seaman, |
|fresh from the latitudes of buck-horn   |
|handled bowie-knives. Yet was this      |
|Nantucketer a man with some good-hearted|
|traits; and this Lakeman, a mariner, who|
|though a sort of devil indeed, might yet|
|by inflexible firmness, only tempered by|
|that common decency of human recognition|
|which is the meanest slave's right;     |
|thus treated, this Steelkilt had long   |
|been retained harmless and docile. At   |
|all events, he had proved so thus far;  |
|but Radney was doomed and made mad, and |
|Steelkilt--but, gentlemen, you shall    |
|hear. "It was not more than a day or    |
|two at the furthest after pointing her  |
|prow for her island haven, that the     |
|Town-Ho's leak seemed again increasing, |
|but only so as to require an hour or    |
|more at the pumps every day. You must   |
|know that in a settled and civilized    |
|ocean like our Atlantic, for example,   |
|some skippers think little of pumping   |
|their whole way across it; though of a  |
|still, sleepy night, should the officer |
|of the deck happen to forget his duty in|
|that respect, the probability would be  |
|that he and his shipmates would never   |
|again remember it, on account of all    |
|hands gently subsiding to the bottom.   |
|Nor in the solitary and savage seas far |
|from you to the westward, gentlemen, is |
|it altogether unusual for ships to keep |
|clanging at their pump-handles in full  |
|chorus even for a voyage of considerable|
|length; that is, if it lie along a      |
|tolerably accessible coast, or if any   |
|other reasonable retreat is afforded    |
|them. It is only when a leaky vessel    |
|is in some very out of the way part     |
|of those waters, some really landless   |
|latitude, that her captain begins to    |
|feel a little anxious. "Much this way   |
|had it been with the Town-Ho; so when   |
|her leak was found gaining once more,   |
|there was in truth some small concern   |
|manifested by several of her company;   |
|especially by Radney the mate. He       |
|commanded the upper sails to be well    |
|hoisted, sheeted home anew, and every   |
|way expanded to the breeze. Now this    |
|Radney, I suppose, was as little of     |
|a coward, and as little inclined to     |
|any sort of nervous apprehensiveness    |
|touching his own person as any fearless,|
|unthinking creature on land or on sea   |
|that you can conveniently imagine,      |
|gentlemen. Therefore when he betrayed   |
|this solicitude about the safety of the |
|ship, some of the seamen declared that  |
|it was only on account of his being a   |
|part owner in her. So when they were    |
|working that evening at the pumps, there|
|was on this head no small gamesomeness  |
|slily going on among them, as they stood|
|with their feet continually overflowed  |
|by the rippling clear water; clear as   |
|any mountain spring, gentlemen--that    |
|bubbling from the pumps ran across the  |
|deck, and poured itself out in steady   |
|spouts at the lee scupper-holes. "Now,  |
|as you well know, it is not seldom the  |
|case in this conventional world of      |
|ours--watery or otherwise; that when    |
|a person placed in command over his     |
|fellow-men finds one of them to be very |
|significantly his superior in general   |
|pride of manhood, straightway against   |
|that man he conceives an unconquerable  |
|dislike and bitterness; and if he have a|
|chance he will pull down and pulverize  |
|that subaltern's tower, and make a      |
|little heap of dust of it. Be this      |
|conceit of mine as it may, gentlemen,   |
|at all events Steelkilt was a tall and  |
|noble animal with a head like a Roman,  |
|and a flowing golden beard like the     |
|tasseled housings of your last viceroy's|
|snorting charger; and a brain, and a    |
|heart, and a soul in him, gentlemen,    |
|which had made Steelkilt Charlemagne,   |
|had he been born son to Charlemagne's   |
|father. But Radney, the mate, was ugly  |
|as a mule; yet as hardy, as stubborn, as|
|malicious. He did not love Steelkilt,   |
|and Steelkilt knew it. "Espying the mate|
|drawing near as he was toiling at the   |
|pump with the rest, the Lakeman affected|
|not to notice him, but unawed, went on  |
|with his gay banterings. "'Aye, aye, my |
|merry lads, it's a lively leak this;    |
|hold a cannikin, one of ye, and let's   |
|have a taste. By the Lord, it's worth   |
|bottling! I tell ye what, men, old Rad's|
|investment must go for it! he had best  |
|cut away his part of the hull and tow it|
|home. The fact is, boys, that sword-fish|
|only began the job; he's come back      |
|again with a gang of ship-carpenters,   |
|saw-fish, and file-fish, and what not;  |
|and the whole posse of 'em are now      |
|hard at work cutting and slashing at    |
|the bottom; making improvements, I      |
|suppose. If old Rad were here now, I'd  |
|tell him to jump overboard and scatter  |
|'em. They're playing the devil with     |
|his estate, I can tell him. But he's a  |
|simple old soul,--Rad, and a beauty too.|
|Boys, they say the rest of his property |
|is invested in looking-glasses. I wonder|
|if he'd give a poor devil like me the   |
|model of his nose.' "'Damn your eyes!   |
|what's that pump stopping for?' roared  |
|Radney, pretending not to have heard the|
|sailors' talk. 'Thunder away at it!'    |
|'Aye, aye, sir,' said Steelkilt, merry  |
|as a cricket. 'Lively, boys, lively,    |
|now!' And with that the pump clanged    |
|like fifty fire-engines; the men tossed |
|their hats off to it, and ere long      |
|that peculiar gasping of the lungs was  |
|heard which denotes the fullest tension |
|of life's utmost energies. "Quitting    |
|the pump at last, with the rest of      |
|his band, the Lakeman went forward      |
|all panting, and sat himself down on    |
|the windlass; his face fiery red, his   |
|eyes bloodshot, and wiping the profuse  |
|sweat from his brow. Now what cozening  |
|fiend it was, gentlemen, that possessed |
|Radney to meddle with such a man in that|
|corporeally exasperated state, I know   |
|not; but so it happened. Intolerably    |
|striding along the deck, the mate       |
|commanded him to get a broom and sweep  |
|down the planks, and also a shovel, and |
|remove some offensive matters consequent|
|upon allowing a pig to run at large.    |
|"Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship's deck |
|at sea is a piece of household work     |
|which in all times but raging gales is  |
|regularly attended to every evening; it |
|has been known to be done in the case of|
|ships actually foundering at the time.  |
|Such, gentlemen, is the inflexibility   |
|of sea-usages and the instinctive love  |
|of neatness in seamen; some of whom     |
|would not willingly drown without first |
|washing their faces. But in all vessels |
|this broom business is the prescriptive |
|province of the boys, if boys there be  |
|aboard. Besides, it was the stronger men|
|in the Town-Ho that had been divided    |
|into gangs, taking turns at the pumps;  |
|and being the most athletic seaman of   |
|them all, Steelkilt had been regularly  |
|assigned captain of one of the gangs;   |
|consequently he should have been freed  |
|from any trivial business not connected |
|with truly nautical duties, such being  |
|the case with his comrades. I mention   |
|all these particulars so that you may   |
|understand exactly how this affair stood|
|between the two men. "But there was more|
|than this: the order about the shovel   |
|was almost as plainly meant to sting and|
|insult Steelkilt, as though Radney had  |
|spat in his face. Any man who has gone  |
|sailor in a whale-ship will understand  |
|this; and all this and doubtless much   |
|more, the Lakeman fully comprehended    |
|when the mate uttered his command. But  |
|as he sat still for a moment, and as    |
|he steadfastly looked into the mate's   |
|malignant eye and perceived the stacks  |
|of powder-casks heaped up in him and    |
|the slow-match silently burning along   |
|towards them; as he instinctively saw   |
|all this, that strange forbearance and  |
|unwillingness to stir up the deeper     |
|passionateness in any already ireful    |
|being--a repugnance most felt, when     |
|felt at all, by really valiant men      |
|even when aggrieved--this nameless      |
|phantom feeling, gentlemen, stole over  |
|Steelkilt. "Therefore, in his ordinary  |
|tone, only a little broken by the bodily|
|exhaustion he was temporarily in, he    |
|answered him saying that sweeping the   |
|deck was not his business, and he would |
|not do it. And then, without at all     |
|alluding to the shovel, he pointed to   |
|three lads as the customary sweepers;   |
|who, not being billeted at the pumps,   |
|had done little or nothing all day.     |
|To this, Radney replied with an oath,   |
|in a most domineering and outrageous    |
|manner unconditionally reiterating his  |
|command; meanwhile advancing upon the   |
|still seated Lakeman, with an uplifted  |
|cooper's club hammer which he had       |
|snatched from a cask near by. "Heated   |
|and irritated as he was by his spasmodic|
|toil at the pumps, for all his first    |
|nameless feeling of forbearance the     |
|sweating Steelkilt could but ill brook  |
|this bearing in the mate; but somehow   |
|still smothering the conflagration      |
|within him, without speaking he remained|
|doggedly rooted to his seat, till at    |
|last the incensed Radney shook the      |
|hammer within a few inches of his       |
|face, furiously commanding him to do    |
|his bidding. "Steelkilt rose, and       |
|slowly retreating round the windlass,   |
|steadily followed by the mate with his  |
|menacing hammer, deliberately repeated  |
|his intention not to obey. Seeing,      |
|however, that his forbearance had not   |
|the slightest effect, by an awful       |
|and unspeakable intimation with his     |
|twisted hand he warned off the foolish  |
|and infatuated man; but it was to no    |
|purpose. And in this way the two went   |
|once slowly round the windlass; when,   |
|resolved at last no longer to retreat,  |
|bethinking him that he had now forborne |
|as much as comported with his humor,    |
|the Lakeman paused on the hatches and   |
|thus spoke to the officer: "'Mr. Radney,|
|I will not obey you. Take that hammer   |
|away, or look to yourself.' But the     |
|predestinated mate coming still closer  |
|to him, where the Lakeman stood fixed,  |
|now shook the heavy hammer within an    |
|inch of his teeth; meanwhile repeating  |
|a string of insufferable maledictions.  |
|Retreating not the thousandth part      |
|of an inch; stabbing him in the eye     |
|with the unflinching poniard of his     |
|glance, Steelkilt, clenching his right  |
|hand behind him and creepingly drawing  |
|it back, told his persecutor that if    |
|the hammer but grazed his cheek he      |
|(Steelkilt) would murder him. But,      |
|gentlemen, the fool had been branded for|
|the slaughter by the gods. Immediately  |
|the hammer touched the cheek; the next  |
|instant the lower jaw of the mate was   |
|stove in his head; he fell on the hatch |
|spouting blood like a whale. "Ere the   |
|cry could go aft Steelkilt was shaking  |
|one of the backstays leading far aloft  |
|to where two of his comrades were       |
|standing their mastheads. They were     |
|both Canallers. "'Canallers!' cried Don |
|Pedro. 'We have seen many whale-ships   |
|in our harbours, but never heard of     |
|your Canallers. Pardon: who and what    |
|are they?' "'Canallers, Don, are the    |
|boatmen belonging to our grand Erie     |
|Canal. You must have heard of it.'      |
|"'Nay, Senor; hereabouts in this dull,  |
|warm, most lazy, and hereditary land,   |
|we know but little of your vigorous     |
|North.' "'Aye? Well then, Don, refill   |
|my cup. Your chicha's very fine; and    |
|ere proceeding further I will tell      |
|ye what our Canallers are; for such     |
|information may throw side-light upon   |
|my story.' "For three hundred and       |
|sixty miles, gentlemen, through the     |
|entire breadth of the state of New      |
|York; through numerous populous cities  |
|and most thriving villages; through     |
|long, dismal, uninhabited swamps, and   |
|affluent, cultivated fields, unrivalled |
|for fertility; by billiard-room and     |
|bar-room; through the holy-of-holies    |
|of great forests; on Roman arches over  |
|Indian rivers; through sun and shade;   |
|by happy hearts or broken; through all  |
|the wide contrasting scenery of those   |
|noble Mohawk counties; and especially,  |
|by rows of snow-white chapels, whose    |
|spires stand almost like milestones,    |
|flows one continual stream of Venetianly|
|corrupt and often lawless life. There's |
|your true Ashantee, gentlemen; there    |
|howl your pagans; where you ever        |
|find them, next door to you; under      |
|the long-flung shadow, and the snug     |
|patronising lee of churches. For by     |
|some curious fatality, as it is often   |
|noted of your metropolitan freebooters  |
|that they ever encamp around the halls  |
|of justice, so sinners, gentlemen, most |
|abound in holiest vicinities. "'Is      |
|that a friar passing?' said Don Pedro,  |
|looking downwards into the crowded      |
|plazza, with humorous concern. "'Well   |
|for our northern friend, Dame Isabella's|
|Inquisition wanes in Lima,' laughed Don |
|Sebastian. 'Proceed, Senor.' "'A moment!|
|Pardon!' cried another of the company.  |
|'In the name of all us Limeese, I but   |
|desire to express to you, sir sailor,   |
|that we have by no means overlooked your|
|delicacy in not substituting present    |
|Lima for distant Venice in your corrupt |
|comparison. Oh! do not bow and look     |
|surprised; you know the proverb all     |
|along this coast--"Corrupt as Lima." It |
|but bears out your saying, too; churches|
|more plentiful than billiard-tables, and|
|for ever open--and "Corrupt as Lima."   |
|So, too, Venice; I have been there; the |
|holy city of the blessed evangelist,    |
|St. Mark!--St. Dominic, purge it! Your  |
|cup! Thanks: here I refill; now, you    |
|pour out again.' "Freely depicted in his|
|own vocation, gentlemen, the Canaller   |
|would make a fine dramatic hero, so     |
|abundantly and picturesquely wicked is  |
|he. Like Mark Antony, for days and days |
|along his green-turfed, flowery Nile, he|
|indolently floats, openly toying with   |
|his red-cheeked Cleopatra, ripening his |
|apricot thigh upon the sunny deck. But  |
|ashore, all this effeminacy is dashed.  |
|The brigandish guise which the Canaller |
|so proudly sports; his slouched and     |
|gaily-ribboned hat betoken his grand    |
|features. A terror to the smiling       |
|innocence of the villages through which |
|he floats; his swart visage and bold    |
|swagger are not unshunned in cities.    |
|Once a vagabond on his own canal, I have|
|received good turns from one of these   |
|Canallers; I thank him heartily; would  |
|fain be not ungrateful; but it is often |
|one of the prime redeeming qualities    |
|of your man of violence, that at times  |
|he has as stiff an arm to back a poor   |
|stranger in a strait, as to plunder a   |
|wealthy one. In sum, gentlemen, what    |
|the wildness of this canal life is, is  |
|emphatically evinced by this; that our  |
|wild whale-fishery contains so many of  |
|its most finished graduates, and that   |
|scarce any race of mankind, except      |
|Sydney men, are so much distrusted by   |
|our whaling captains. Nor does it at    |
|all diminish the curiousness of this    |
|matter, that to many thousands of our   |
|rural boys and young men born along its |
|line, the probationary life of the Grand|
|Canal furnishes the sole transition     |
|between quietly reaping in a Christian  |
|corn-field, and recklessly ploughing    |
|the waters of the most barbaric seas.   |
|"'I see! I see!' impetuously exclaimed  |
|Don Pedro, spilling his chicha upon his |
|silvery ruffles. 'No need to travel!    |
|The world's one Lima. I had thought,    |
|now, that at your temperate North the   |
|generations were cold and holy as the   |
|hills.--But the story.' "I left off,    |
|gentlemen, where the Lakeman shook the  |
|backstay. Hardly had he done so, when   |
|he was surrounded by the three junior   |
|mates and the four harpooneers, who all |
|crowded him to the deck. But sliding    |
|down the ropes like baleful comets, the |
|two Canallers rushed into the uproar,   |
|and sought to drag their man out of     |
|it towards the forecastle. Others of    |
|the sailors joined with them in this    |
|attempt, and a twisted turmoil ensued;  |
|while standing out of harm's way, the   |
|valiant captain danced up and down with |
|a whale-pike, calling upon his officers |
|to manhandle that atrocious scoundrel,  |
|and smoke him along to the quarter-deck.|
|At intervals, he ran close up to the    |
|revolving border of the confusion, and  |
|prying into the heart of it with his    |
|pike, sought to prick out the object of |
|his resentment. But Steelkilt and his   |
|desperadoes were too much for them all; |
|they succeeded in gaining the forecastle|
|deck, where, hastily slewing about three|
|or four large casks in a line with the  |
|windlass, these sea-Parisians entrenched|
|themselves behind the barricade. "'Come |
|out of that, ye pirates!' roared the    |
|captain, now menacing them with a       |
|pistol in each hand, just brought to    |
|him by the steward. 'Come out of that,  |
|ye cut-throats!' "Steelkilt leaped      |
|on the barricade, and striding up       |
|and down there, defied the worst the    |
|pistols could do; but gave the captain  |
|to understand distinctly, that his      |
|(Steelkilt's) death would be the signal |
|for a murderous mutiny on the part of   |
|all hands. Fearing in his heart lest    |
|this might prove but too true, the      |
|captain a little desisted, but still    |
|commanded the insurgents instantly      |
|to return to their duty. "'Will you     |
|promise not to touch us, if we do?'     |
|demanded their ringleader. "'Turn to!   |
|turn to!--I make no promise;--to your   |
|duty! Do you want to sink the ship, by  |
|knocking off at a time like this? Turn  |
|to!' and he once more raised a pistol.  |
|"'Sink the ship?' cried Steelkilt.      |
|'Aye, let her sink. Not a man of us     |
|turns to, unless you swear not to raise |
|a rope-yarn against us. What say ye,    |
|men?' turning to his comrades. A fierce |
|cheer was their response. "The Lakeman  |
|now patrolled the barricade, all the    |
|while keeping his eye on the Captain,   |
|and jerking out such sentences as       |
|these:--'It's not our fault; we didn't  |
|want it; I told him to take his hammer  |
|away; it was boy's business; he might   |
|have known me before this; I told him   |
|not to prick the buffalo; I believe I   |
|have broken a finger here against his   |
|cursed jaw; ain't those mincing knives  |
|down in the forecastle there, men?      |
|look to those handspikes, my hearties.  |
|Captain, by God, look to yourself; say  |
|the word; don't be a fool; forget it    |
|all; we are ready to turn to; treat us  |
|decently, and we're your men; but we    |
|won't be flogged.' "'Turn to! I make no |
|promises, turn to, I say!' "'Look ye,   |
|now,' cried the Lakeman, flinging out   |
|his arm towards him, 'there are a few   |
|of us here (and I am one of them) who   |
|have shipped for the cruise, d'ye see;  |
|now as you well know, sir, we can claim |
|our discharge as soon as the anchor is  |
|down; so we don't want a row; it's not  |
|our interest; we want to be peaceable;  |
|we are ready to work, but we won't      |
|be flogged.' "'Turn to!' roared the     |
|Captain. "Steelkilt glanced round him   |
|a moment, and then said:--'I tell you   |
|what it is now, Captain, rather than    |
|kill ye, and be hung for such a shabby  |
|rascal, we won't lift a hand against    |
|ye unless ye attack us; but till you    |
|say the word about not flogging us, we  |
|don't do a hand's turn.' "'Down into    |
|the forecastle then, down with ye, I'll |
|keep ye there till ye're sick of it.    |
|Down ye go.' "'Shall we?' cried the     |
|ringleader to his men. Most of them     |
|were against it; but at length, in      |
|obedience to Steelkilt, they preceded   |
|him down into their dark den, growlingly|
|disappearing, like bears into a cave.   |
|"As the Lakeman's bare head was just    |
|level with the planks, the Captain      |
|and his posse leaped the barricade,     |
|and rapidly drawing over the slide of   |
|the scuttle, planted their group of     |
|hands upon it, and loudly called for    |
|the steward to bring the heavy brass    |
|padlock belonging to the companionway.  |
|Then opening the slide a little, the    |
|Captain whispered something down the    |
|crack, closed it, and turned the key    |
|upon them--ten in number--leaving on    |
|deck some twenty or more, who thus far  |
|had remained neutral. "All night a      |
|wide-awake watch was kept by all the    |
|officers, forward and aft, especially   |
|about the forecastle scuttle and fore   |
|hatchway; at which last place it was    |
|feared the insurgents might emerge,     |
|after breaking through the bulkhead     |
|below. But the hours of darkness passed |
|in peace; the men who still remained at |
|their duty toiling hard at the pumps,   |
|whose clinking and clanking at intervals|
|through the dreary night dismally       |
|resounded through the ship. "At sunrise |
|the Captain went forward, and knocking  |
|on the deck, summoned the prisoners to  |
|work; but with a yell they refused.     |
|Water was then lowered down to them, and|
|a couple of handfuls of biscuit were    |
|tossed after it; when again turning the |
|key upon them and pocketing it, the     |
|Captain returned to the quarter-deck.   |
|Twice every day for three days this was |
|repeated; but on the fourth morning a   |
|confused wrangling, and then a scuffling|
|was heard, as the customary summons was |
|delivered; and suddenly four men burst  |
|up from the forecastle, saying they were|
|ready to turn to. The fetid closeness of|
|the air, and a famishing diet, united   |
|perhaps to some fears of ultimate       |
|retribution, had constrained them to    |
|surrender at discretion. Emboldened by  |
|this, the Captain reiterated his demand |
|to the rest, but Steelkilt shouted up to|
|him a terrific hint to stop his babbling|
|and betake himself where he belonged.   |
|On the fifth morning three others of    |
|the mutineers bolted up into the air    |
|from the desperate arms below that      |
|sought to restrain them. Only three were|
|left. "'Better turn to, now?' said the  |
|Captain with a heartless jeer. "'Shut   |
|us up again, will ye!' cried Steelkilt. |
|"'Oh certainly,' the Captain, and the   |
|key clicked. "It was at this point,     |
|gentlemen, that enraged by the defection|
|of seven of his former associates, and  |
|stung by the mocking voice that had     |
|last hailed him, and maddened by his    |
|long entombment in a place as black as  |
|the bowels of despair; it was then that |
|Steelkilt proposed to the two Canallers,|
|thus far apparently of one mind with    |
|him, to burst out of their hole at the  |
|next summoning of the garrison; and     |
|armed with their keen mincing knives    |
|(long, crescentic, heavy implements     |
|with a handle at each end) run amuck    |
|from the bowsprit to the taffrail; and  |
|if by any devilishness of desperation   |
|possible, seize the ship. For himself,  |
|he would do this, he said, whether they |
|joined him or not. That was the last    |
|night he should spend in that den. But  |
|the scheme met with no opposition on the|
|part of the other two; they swore they  |
|were ready for that, or for any other   |
|mad thing, for anything in short but a  |
|surrender. And what was more, they each |
|insisted upon being the first man on    |
|deck, when the time to make the rush    |
|should come. But to this their leader   |
|as fiercely objected, reserving that    |
|priority for himself; particularly as   |
|his two comrades would not yield, the   |
|one to the other, in the matter; and    |
|both of them could not be first, for    |
|the ladder would but admit one man at   |
|a time. And here, gentlemen, the foul   |
|play of these miscreants must come out. |
|"Upon hearing the frantic project of    |
|their leader, each in his own separate  |
|soul had suddenly lighted, it would     |
|seem, upon the same piece of treachery, |
|namely: to be foremost in breaking      |
|out, in order to be the first of the    |
|three, though the last of the ten, to   |
|surrender; and thereby secure whatever  |
|small chance of pardon such conduct     |
|might merit. But when Steelkilt made    |
|known his determination still to lead   |
|them to the last, they in some way,     |
|by some subtle chemistry of villany,    |
|mixed their before secret treacheries   |
|together; and when their leader fell    |
|into a doze, verbally opened their      |
|souls to each other in three sentences; |
|and bound the sleeper with cords, and   |
|gagged him with cords; and shrieked out |
|for the Captain at midnight. "Thinking  |
|murder at hand, and smelling in the dark|
|for the blood, he and all his armed     |
|mates and harpooneers rushed for the    |
|forecastle. In a few minutes the scuttle|
|was opened, and, bound hand and foot,   |
|the still struggling ringleader was     |
|shoved up into the air by his perfidious|
|allies, who at once claimed the honour  |
|of securing a man who had been fully    |
|ripe for murder. But all these were     |
|collared, and dragged along the deck    |
|like dead cattle; and, side by side,    |
|were seized up into the mizzen rigging, |
|like three quarters of meat, and there  |
|they hung till morning. 'Damn ye,' cried|
|the Captain, pacing to and fro before   |
|them, 'the vultures would not touch ye, |
|ye villains!' "At sunrise he summoned   |
|all hands; and separating those who had |
|rebelled from those who had taken no    |
|part in the mutiny, he told the former  |
|that he had a good mind to flog them    |
|all round--thought, upon the whole,     |
|he would do so--he ought to--justice    |
|demanded it; but for the present,       |
|considering their timely surrender, he  |
|would let them go with a reprimand,     |
|which he accordingly administered in the|
|vernacular. "'But as for you, ye carrion|
|rogues,' turning to the three men in    |
|the rigging--'for you, I mean to mince  |
|ye up for the try-pots;' and, seizing a |
|rope, he applied it with all his might  |
|to the backs of the two traitors, till  |
|they yelled no more, but lifelessly     |
|hung their heads sideways, as the two   |
|crucified thieves are drawn. "'My wrist |
|is sprained with ye!' he cried, at last;|
|'but there is still rope enough left    |
|for you, my fine bantam, that wouldn't  |
|give up. Take that gag from his mouth,  |
|and let us hear what he can say for     |
|himself.' "For a moment the exhausted   |
|mutineer made a tremulous motion of     |
|his cramped jaws, and then painfully    |
|twisting round his head, said in a sort |
|of hiss, 'What I say is this--and mind  |
|it well--if you flog me, I murder you!' |
|"'Say ye so? then see how ye frighten   |
|me'--and the Captain drew off with the  |
|rope to strike. "'Best not,' hissed the |
|Lakeman. "'But I must,'--and the rope   |
|was once more drawn back for the stroke.|
|"Steelkilt here hissed out something,   |
|inaudible to all but the Captain; who,  |
|to the amazement of all hands, started  |
|back, paced the deck rapidly two or     |
|three times, and then suddenly throwing |
|down his rope, said, 'I won't do it--let|
|him go--cut him down: d'ye hear?' But   |
|as the junior mates were hurrying to    |
|execute the order, a pale man, with a   |
|bandaged head, arrested them--Radney the|
|chief mate. Ever since the blow, he had |
|lain in his berth; but that morning,    |
|hearing the tumult on the deck, he had  |
|crept out, and thus far had watched     |
|the whole scene. Such was the state     |
|of his mouth, that he could hardly      |
|speak; but mumbling something about his |
|being willing and able to do what the   |
|captain dared not attempt, he snatched  |
|the rope and advanced to his pinioned   |
|foe. "'You are a coward!' hissed the    |
|Lakeman. "'So I am, but take that.' The |
|mate was in the very act of striking,   |
|when another hiss stayed his uplifted   |
|arm. He paused: and then pausing no     |
|more, made good his word, spite of      |
|Steelkilt's threat, whatever that might |
|have been. The three men were then cut  |
|down, all hands were turned to, and,    |
|sullenly worked by the moody seamen,    |
|the iron pumps clanged as before. "Just |
|after dark that day, when one watch had |
|retired below, a clamor was heard in    |
|the forecastle; and the two trembling   |
|traitors running up, besieged the cabin |
|door, saying they durst not consort     |
|with the crew. Entreaties, cuffs, and   |
|kicks could not drive them back, so     |
|at their own instance they were put     |
|down in the ship's run for salvation.   |
|Still, no sign of mutiny reappeared     |
|among the rest. On the contrary, it     |
|seemed, that mainly at Steelkilt's      |
|instigation, they had resolved to       |
|maintain the strictest peacefulness,    |
|obey all orders to the last, and, when  |
|the ship reached port, desert her in    |
|a body. But in order to insure the      |
|speediest end to the voyage, they all   |
|agreed to another thing--namely, not    |
|to sing out for whales, in case any     |
|should be discovered. For, spite of     |
|her leak, and spite of all her other    |
|perils, the Town-Ho still maintained    |
|her mast-heads, and her captain was     |
|just as willing to lower for a fish     |
|that moment, as on the day his craft    |
|first struck the cruising ground; and   |
|Radney the mate was quite as ready to   |
|change his berth for a boat, and with   |
|his bandaged mouth seek to gag in death |
|the vital jaw of the whale. "But though |
|the Lakeman had induced the seamen to   |
|adopt this sort of passiveness in their |
|conduct, he kept his own counsel (at    |
|least till all was over) concerning his |
|own proper and private revenge upon the |
|man who had stung him in the ventricles |
|of his heart. He was in Radney the chief|
|mate's watch; and as if the infatuated  |
|man sought to run more than half way    |
|to meet his doom, after the scene at    |
|the rigging, he insisted, against the   |
|express counsel of the captain, upon    |
|resuming the head of his watch at       |
|night. Upon this, and one or two other  |
|circumstances, Steelkilt systematically |
|built the plan of his revenge. "During  |
|the night, Radney had an unseamanlike   |
|way of sitting on the bulwarks of the   |
|quarter-deck, and leaning his arm upon  |
|the gunwale of the boat which was       |
|hoisted up there, a little above the    |
|ship's side. In this attitude, it was   |
|well known, he sometimes dozed. There   |
|was a considerable vacancy between the  |
|boat and the ship, and down between     |
|this was the sea. Steelkilt calculated  |
|his time, and found that his next trick |
|at the helm would come round at two     |
|o'clock, in the morning of the third    |
|day from that in which he had been      |
|betrayed. At his leisure, he employed   |
|the interval in braiding something very |
|carefully in his watches below. "'What  |
|are you making there?' said a shipmate. |
|"'What do you think? what does it look  |
|like?' "'Like a lanyard for your bag;   |
|but it's an odd one, seems to me.'      |
|'Yes, rather oddish,' said the Lakeman, |
|holding it at arm's length before him;  |
|'but I think it will answer. Shipmate,  |
|I haven't enough twine,--have you any?' |
|"But there was none in the forecastle.  |
|"'Then I must get some from old Rad;'   |
|and he rose to go aft. "'You don't mean |
|to go a begging to HIM!' said a sailor. |
|"'Why not? Do you think he won't do me a|
|turn, when it's to help himself in the  |
|end, shipmate?' and going to the mate,  |
|he looked at him quietly, and asked him |
|for some twine to mend his hammock. It  |
|was given him--neither twine nor lanyard|
|were seen again; but the next night     |
|an iron ball, closely netted, partly    |
|rolled from the pocket of the Lakeman's |
|monkey jacket, as he was tucking the    |
|coat into his hammock for a pillow.     |
|Twenty-four hours after, his trick at   |
|the silent helm--nigh to the man who    |
|was apt to doze over the grave always   |
|ready dug to the seaman's hand--that    |
|fatal hour was then to come; and in the |
|fore-ordaining soul of Steelkilt, the   |
|mate was already stark and stretched    |
|as a corpse, with his forehead crushed  |
|in. "But, gentlemen, a fool saved the   |
|would-be murderer from the bloody deed  |
|he had planned. Yet complete revenge    |
|he had, and without being the avenger.  |
|For by a mysterious fatality, Heaven    |
|itself seemed to step in to take out    |
|of his hands into its own the damning   |
|thing he would have done. "It was just  |
|between daybreak and sunrise of the     |
|morning of the second day, when they    |
|were washing down the decks, that a     |
|stupid Teneriffe man, drawing water in  |
|the main-chains, all at once shouted    |
|out, 'There she rolls! there she rolls!'|
|Jesu, what a whale! It was Moby Dick.   |
|"'Moby Dick!' cried Don Sebastian; 'St. |
|Dominic! Sir sailor, but do whales      |
|have christenings? Whom call you Moby   |
|Dick?' "'A very white, and famous, and  |
|most deadly immortal monster, Don;--but |
|that would be too long a story.' "'How? |
|how?' cried all the young Spaniards,    |
|crowding. "'Nay, Dons, Dons--nay, nay!  |
|I cannot rehearse that now. Let me get  |
|more into the air, Sirs.' "'The chicha! |
|the chicha!' cried Don Pedro; 'our      |
|vigorous friend looks faint;--fill up   |
|his empty glass!' "No need, gentlemen;  |
|one moment, and I proceed.--Now,        |
|gentlemen, so suddenly perceiving the   |
|snowy whale within fifty yards of the   |
|ship--forgetful of the compact among the|
|crew--in the excitement of the moment,  |
|the Teneriffe man had instinctively and |
|involuntarily lifted his voice for the  |
|monster, though for some little time    |
|past it had been plainly beheld from    |
|the three sullen mast-heads. All was    |
|now a phrensy. 'The White Whale--the    |
|White Whale!' was the cry from captain, |
|mates, and harpooneers, who, undeterred |
|by fearful rumours, were all anxious to |
|capture so famous and precious a fish;  |
|while the dogged crew eyed askance, and |
|with curses, the appalling beauty of    |
|the vast milky mass, that lit up by a   |
|horizontal spangling sun, shifted and   |
|glistened like a living opal in the     |
|blue morning sea. Gentlemen, a strange  |
|fatality pervades the whole career of   |
|these events, as if verily mapped out   |
|before the world itself was charted.    |
|The mutineer was the bowsman of the     |
|mate, and when fast to a fish, it was   |
|his duty to sit next him, while Radney  |
|stood up with his lance in the prow,    |
|and haul in or slacken the line, at the |
|word of command. Moreover, when the four|
|boats were lowered, the mate's got the  |
|start; and none howled more fiercely    |
|with delight than did Steelkilt, as he  |
|strained at his oar. After a stiff pull,|
|their harpooneer got fast, and, spear   |
|in hand, Radney sprang to the bow. He   |
|was always a furious man, it seems, in a|
|boat. And now his bandaged cry was, to  |
|beach him on the whale's topmost back.  |
|Nothing loath, his bowsman hauled him   |
|up and up, through a blinding foam that |
|blent two whitenesses together; till of |
|a sudden the boat struck as against a   |
|sunken ledge, and keeling over, spilled |
|out the standing mate. That instant, as |
|he fell on the whale's slippery back,   |
|the boat righted, and was dashed aside  |
|by the swell, while Radney was tossed   |
|over into the sea, on the other flank   |
|of the whale. He struck out through the |
|spray, and, for an instant, was dimly   |
|seen through that veil, wildly seeking  |
|to remove himself from the eye of Moby  |
|Dick. But the whale rushed round in a   |
|sudden maelstrom; seized the swimmer    |
|between his jaws; and rearing high up   |
|with him, plunged headlong again, and   |
|went down. "Meantime, at the first tap  |
|of the boat's bottom, the Lakeman had   |
|slackened the line, so as to drop astern|
|from the whirlpool; calmly looking      |
|on, he thought his own thoughts. But    |
|a sudden, terrific, downward jerking    |
|of the boat, quickly brought his knife  |
|to the line. He cut it; and the whale   |
|was free. But, at some distance, Moby   |
|Dick rose again, with some tatters of   |
|Radney's red woollen shirt, caught in   |
|the teeth that had destroyed him. All   |
|four boats gave chase again; but the    |
|whale eluded them, and finally wholly   |
|disappeared. "In good time, the Town-Ho |
|reached her port--a savage, solitary    |
|place--where no civilized creature      |
|resided. There, headed by the Lakeman,  |
|all but five or six of the foremastmen  |
|deliberately deserted among the palms;  |
|eventually, as it turned out, seizing a |
|large double war-canoe of the savages,  |
|and setting sail for some other harbor. |
|"The ship's company being reduced to    |
|but a handful, the captain called upon  |
|the Islanders to assist him in the      |
|laborious business of heaving down the  |
|ship to stop the leak. But to such      |
|unresting vigilance over their dangerous|
|allies was this small band of whites    |
|necessitated, both by night and by day, |
|and so extreme was the hard work they   |
|underwent, that upon the vessel being   |
|ready again for sea, they were in such  |
|a weakened condition that the captain   |
|durst not put off with them in so heavy |
|a vessel. After taking counsel with     |
|his officers, he anchored the ship as   |
|far off shore as possible; loaded and   |
|ran out his two cannon from the bows;   |
|stacked his muskets on the poop; and    |
|warning the Islanders not to approach   |
|the ship at their peril, took one man   |
|with him, and setting the sail of his   |
|best whale-boat, steered straight before|
|the wind for Tahiti, five hundred miles |
|distant, to procure a reinforcement     |
|to his crew. "On the fourth day of      |
|the sail, a large canoe was descried,   |
|which seemed to have touched at a low   |
|isle of corals. He steered away from    |
|it; but the savage craft bore down on   |
|him; and soon the voice of Steelkilt    |
|hailed him to heave to, or he would run |
|him under water. The captain presented  |
|a pistol. With one foot on each prow    |
|of the yoked war-canoes, the Lakeman    |
|laughed him to scorn; assuring him that |
|if the pistol so much as clicked in the |
|lock, he would bury him in bubbles and  |
|foam. "'What do you want of me?' cried  |
|the captain. "'Where are you bound?     |
|and for what are you bound?' demanded   |
|Steelkilt; 'no lies.' "'I am bound to   |
|Tahiti for more men.' "'Very good.      |
|Let me board you a moment--I come in    |
|peace.' With that he leaped from the    |
|canoe, swam to the boat; and climbing   |
|the gunwale, stood face to face with the|
|captain. "'Cross your arms, sir; throw  |
|back your head. Now, repeat after me.   |
|As soon as Steelkilt leaves me, I swear |
|to beach this boat on yonder island,    |
|and remain there six days. If I do not, |
|may lightning strike me!' "'A pretty    |
|scholar,' laughed the Lakeman. 'Adios,  |
|Senor!' and leaping into the sea, he    |
|swam back to his comrades. "Watching the|
|boat till it was fairly beached, and    |
|drawn up to the roots of the cocoa-nut  |
|trees, Steelkilt made sail again, and   |
|in due time arrived at Tahiti, his      |
|own place of destination. There, luck   |
|befriended him; two ships were about to |
|sail for France, and were providentially|
|in want of precisely that number of men |
|which the sailor headed. They embarked; |
|and so for ever got the start of their  |
|former captain, had he been at all      |
|minded to work them legal retribution.  |
|"Some ten days after the French ships   |
|sailed, the whale-boat arrived, and     |
|the captain was forced to enlist some   |
|of the more civilized Tahitians, who    |
|had been somewhat used to the sea.      |
|Chartering a small native schooner, he  |
|returned with them to his vessel; and   |
|finding all right there, again resumed  |
|his cruisings. "Where Steelkilt now     |
|is, gentlemen, none know; but upon      |
|the island of Nantucket, the widow of   |
|Radney still turns to the sea which     |
|refuses to give up its dead; still in   |
|dreams sees the awful white whale that  |
|destroyed him. "'Are you through?' said |
|Don Sebastian, quietly. "'I am, Don.'   |
|"'Then I entreat you, tell me if to the |
|best of your own convictions, this your |
|story is in substance really true? It   |
|is so passing wonderful! Did you get    |
|it from an unquestionable source? Bear  |
|with me if I seem to press.' "'Also bear|
|with all of us, sir sailor; for we all  |
|join in Don Sebastian's suit,' cried the|
|company, with exceeding interest. "'Is  |
|there a copy of the Holy Evangelists    |
|in the Golden Inn, gentlemen?' "'Nay,'  |
|said Don Sebastian; 'but I know a       |
|worthy priest near by, who will quickly |
|procure one for me. I go for it; but    |
|are you well advised? this may grow too |
|serious.' "'Will you be so good as to   |
|bring the priest also, Don?' "'Though   |
|there are no Auto-da-Fe's in Lima now,' |
|said one of the company to another; 'I  |
|fear our sailor friend runs risk of the |
|archiepiscopacy. Let us withdraw more   |
|out of the moonlight. I see no need of  |
|this.' "'Excuse me for running after    |
|you, Don Sebastian; but may I also beg  |
|that you will be particular in procuring|
|the largest sized Evangelists you can.' |
|'This is the priest, he brings you      |
|the Evangelists,' said Don Sebastian,   |
|gravely, returning with a tall and      |
|solemn figure. "'Let me remove my hat.  |
|Now, venerable priest, further into the |
|light, and hold the Holy Book before    |
|me that I may touch it. "'So help me    |
|Heaven, and on my honour the story I    |
|have told ye, gentlemen, is in substance|
|and its great items, true. I know it to |
|be true; it happened on this ball; I    |
|trod the ship; I knew the crew; I have  |
|seen and talked with Steelkilt since    |
|the death of Radney.'" I shall ere long |
|paint to you as well as one can without |
|canvas, something like the true form    |
|of the whale as he actually appears to  |
|the eye of the whaleman when in his     |
|own absolute body the whale is moored   |
|alongside the whale-ship so that he can |
|be fairly stepped upon there. It may    |
|be worth while, therefore, previously   |
|to advert to those curious imaginary    |
|portraits of him which even down to     |
|the present day confidently challenge   |
|the faith of the landsman. It is time   |
|to set the world right in this matter,  |
|by proving such pictures of the whale   |
|all wrong. It may be that the primal    |
|source of all those pictorial delusions |
|will be found among the oldest Hindoo,  |
|Egyptian, and Grecian sculptures.       |
|For ever since those inventive but      |
|unscrupulous times when on the marble   |
|panellings of temples, the pedestals of |
|statues, and on shields, medallions,    |
|cups, and coins, the dolphin was drawn  |
|in scales of chain-armor like Saladin's,|
|and a helmeted head like St. George's;  |
|ever since then has something of the    |
|same sort of license prevailed, not only|
|in most popular pictures of the whale,  |
|but in many scientific presentations of |
|him. Now, by all odds, the most ancient |
|extant portrait anyways purporting to   |
|be the whale's, is to be found in the   |
|famous cavern-pagoda of Elephanta, in   |
|India. The Brahmins maintain that in    |
|the almost endless sculptures of that   |
|immemorial pagoda, all the trades and   |
|pursuits, every conceivable avocation   |
|of man, were prefigured ages before     |
|any of them actually came into being.   |
|No wonder then, that in some sort our   |
|noble profession of whaling should have |
|been there shadowed forth. The Hindoo   |
|whale referred to, occurs in a separate |
|department of the wall, depicting the   |
|incarnation of Vishnu in the form of    |
|leviathan, learnedly known as the Matse |
|Avatar. But though this sculpture is    |
|half man and half whale, so as only to  |
|give the tail of the latter, yet that   |
|small section of him is all wrong. It   |
|looks more like the tapering tail of an |
|anaconda, than the broad palms of the   |
|true whale's majestic flukes. But go to |
|the old Galleries, and look now at a    |
|great Christian painter's portrait of   |
|this fish; for he succeeds no better    |
|than the antediluvian Hindoo. It is     |
|Guido's picture of Perseus rescuing     |
|Andromeda from the sea-monster or whale.|
|Where did Guido get the model of such   |
|a strange creature as that? Nor does    |
|Hogarth, in painting the same scene in  |
|his own "Perseus Descending," make out  |
|one whit better. The huge corpulence of |
|that Hogarthian monster undulates on the|
|surface, scarcely drawing one inch of   |
|water. It has a sort of howdah on its   |
|back, and its distended tusked mouth    |
|into which the billows are rolling,     |
|might be taken for the Traitors' Gate   |
|leading from the Thames by water        |
|into the Tower. Then, there are the     |
|Prodromus whales of old Scotch Sibbald, |
|and Jonah's whale, as depicted in the   |
|prints of old Bibles and the cuts of old|
|primers. What shall be said of these?   |
|As for the book-binder's whale winding  |
|like a vine-stalk round the stock of    |
|a descending anchor--as stamped and     |
|gilded on the backs and title-pages of  |
|many books both old and new--that is a  |
|very picturesque but purely fabulous    |
|creature, imitated, I take it, from the |
|like figures on antique vases. Though   |
|universally denominated a dolphin, I    |
|nevertheless call this book-binder's    |
|fish an attempt at a whale; because it  |
|was so intended when the device was     |
|first introduced. It was introduced by  |
|an old Italian publisher somewhere about|
|the 15th century, during the Revival of |
|Learning; and in those days, and even   |
|down to a comparatively late period,    |
|dolphins were popularly supposed to     |
|be a species of the Leviathan. In the   |
|vignettes and other embellishments of   |
|some ancient books you will at times    |
|meet with very curious touches at the   |
|whale, where all manner of spouts, jets |
|d'eau, hot springs and cold, Saratoga   |
|and Baden-Baden, come bubbling up       |
|from his unexhausted brain. In the      |
|title-page of the original edition of   |
|the "Advancement of Learning" you will  |
|find some curious whales. But quitting  |
|all these unprofessional attempts, let  |
|us glance at those pictures of leviathan|
|purporting to be sober, scientific      |
|delineations, by those who know. In old |
|Harris's collection of voyages there    |
|are some plates of whales extracted     |
|from a Dutch book of voyages, A.D.      |
|1671, entitled "A Whaling Voyage to     |
|Spitzbergen in the ship Jonas in the    |
|Whale, Peter Peterson of Friesland,     |
|master." In one of those plates the     |
|whales, like great rafts of logs, are   |
|represented lying among ice-isles, with |
|white bears running over their living   |
|backs. In another plate, the prodigious |
|blunder is made of representing the     |
|whale with perpendicular flukes. Then   |
|again, there is an imposing quarto,     |
|written by one Captain Colnett, a Post  |
|Captain in the English navy, entitled "A|
|Voyage round Cape Horn into the South   |
|Seas, for the purpose of extending the  |
|Spermaceti Whale Fisheries." In this    |
|book is an outline purporting to be a   |
|"Picture of a Physeter or Spermaceti    |
|whale, drawn by scale from one killed   |
|on the coast of Mexico, August, 1793,   |
|and hoisted on deck." I doubt not the   |
|captain had this veracious picture taken|
|for the benefit of his marines. To      |
|mention but one thing about it, let me  |
|say that it has an eye which applied,   |
|according to the accompanying scale, to |
|a full grown sperm whale, would make the|
|eye of that whale a bow-window some five|
|feet long. Ah, my gallant captain, why  |
|did ye not give us Jonah looking out of |
|that eye! Nor are the most conscientious|
|compilations of Natural History for the |
|benefit of the young and tender, free   |
|from the same heinousness of mistake.   |
|Look at that popular work "Goldsmith's  |
|Animated Nature." In the abridged London|
|edition of 1807, there are plates of    |
|an alleged "whale" and a "narwhale."    |
|I do not wish to seem inelegant, but    |
|this unsightly whale looks much like an |
|amputated sow; and, as for the narwhale,|
|one glimpse at it is enough to amaze    |
|one, that in this nineteenth century    |
|such a hippogriff could be palmed for   |
|genuine upon any intelligent public     |
|of schoolboys. Then, again, in 1825,    |
|Bernard Germain, Count de Lacepede, a   |
|great naturalist, published a scientific|
|systemized whale book, wherein are      |
|several pictures of the different       |
|species of the Leviathan. All these are |
|not only incorrect, but the picture     |
|of the Mysticetus or Greenland whale    |
|(that is to say, the Right whale), even |
|Scoresby, a long experienced man as     |
|touching that species, declares not to  |
|have its counterpart in nature. But the |
|placing of the cap-sheaf to all this    |
|blundering business was reserved for the|
|scientific Frederick Cuvier, brother to |
|the famous Baron. In 1836, he published |
|a Natural History of Whales, in which   |
|he gives what he calls a picture of     |
|the Sperm Whale. Before showing that    |
|picture to any Nantucketer, you had best|
|provide for your summary retreat from   |
|Nantucket. In a word, Frederick Cuvier's|
|Sperm Whale is not a Sperm Whale, but   |
|a squash. Of course, he never had the   |
|benefit of a whaling voyage (such men   |
|seldom have), but whence he derived that|
|picture, who can tell? Perhaps he got   |
|it as his scientific predecessor in the |
|same field, Desmarest, got one of his   |
|authentic abortions; that is, from a    |
|Chinese drawing. And what sort of lively|
|lads with the pencil those Chinese are, |
|many queer cups and saucers inform us.  |
|As for the sign-painters' whales seen   |
|in the streets hanging over the shops   |
|of oil-dealers, what shall be said of   |
|them? They are generally Richard III.   |
|whales, with dromedary humps, and very  |
|savage; breakfasting on three or four   |
|sailor tarts, that is whaleboats full of|
|mariners: their deformities floundering |
|in seas of blood and blue paint. But    |
|these manifold mistakes in depicting the|
|whale are not so very surprising after  |
|all. Consider! Most of the scientific   |
|drawings have been taken from the       |
|stranded fish; and these are about      |
|as correct as a drawing of a wrecked    |
|ship, with broken back, would correctly |
|represent the noble animal itself in all|
|its undashed pride of hull and spars.   |
|Though elephants have stood for their   |
|full-lengths, the living Leviathan has  |
|never yet fairly floated himself for his|
|portrait. The living whale, in his full |
|majesty and significance, is only to be |
|seen at sea in unfathomable waters; and |
|afloat the vast bulk of him is out of   |
|sight, like a launched line-of-battle   |
|ship; and out of that element it is a   |
|thing eternally impossible for mortal   |
|man to hoist him bodily into the air,   |
|so as to preserve all his mighty swells |
|and undulations. And, not to speak of   |
|the highly presumable difference of     |
|contour between a young sucking whale   |
|and a full-grown Platonian Leviathan;   |
|yet, even in the case of one of those   |
|young sucking whales hoisted to a ship's|
|deck, such is then the outlandish,      |
|eel-like, limbered, varying shape       |
|of him, that his precise expression     |
|the devil himself could not catch.      |
|But it may be fancied, that from the    |
|naked skeleton of the stranded whale,   |
|accurate hints may be derived touching  |
|his true form. Not at all. For it is    |
|one of the more curious things about    |
|this Leviathan, that his skeleton gives |
|very little idea of his general shape.  |
|Though Jeremy Bentham's skeleton, which |
|hangs for candelabra in the library of  |
|one of his executors, correctly conveys |
|the idea of a burly-browed utilitarian  |
|old gentleman, with all Jeremy's other  |
|leading personal characteristics; yet   |
|nothing of this kind could be inferred  |
|from any leviathan's articulated bones. |
|In fact, as the great Hunter says, the  |
|mere skeleton of the whale bears the    |
|same relation to the fully invested and |
|padded animal as the insect does to the |
|chrysalis that so roundingly envelopes  |
|it. This peculiarity is strikingly      |
|evinced in the head, as in some part of |
|this book will be incidentally shown.   |
|It is also very curiously displayed in  |
|the side fin, the bones of which almost |
|exactly answer to the bones of the human|
|hand, minus only the thumb. This fin has|
|four regular bone-fingers, the index,   |
|middle, ring, and little finger. But all|
|these are permanently lodged in their   |
|fleshy covering, as the human fingers   |
|in an artificial covering. "However     |
|recklessly the whale may sometimes serve|
|us," said humorous Stubb one day, "he   |
|can never be truly said to handle us    |
|without mittens." For all these reasons,|
|then, any way you may look at it, you   |
|must needs conclude that the great      |
|Leviathan is that one creature in the   |
|world which must remain unpainted to the|
|last. True, one portrait may hit the    |
|mark much nearer than another, but none |
|can hit it with any very considerable   |
|degree of exactness. So there is no     |
|earthly way of finding out precisely    |
|what the whale really looks like. And   |
|the only mode in which you can derive   |
|even a tolerable idea of his living     |
|contour, is by going a whaling yourself;|
|but by so doing, you run no small risk  |
|of being eternally stove and sunk by    |
|him. Wherefore, it seems to me you had  |
|best not be too fastidious in your      |
|curiosity touching this Leviathan. In   |
|connexion with the monstrous pictures of|
|whales, I am strongly tempted here to   |
|enter upon those still more monstrous   |
|stories of them which are to be found   |
|in certain books, both ancient and      |
|modern, especially in Pliny, Purchas,   |
|Hackluyt, Harris, Cuvier, etc. But I    |
|pass that matter by. I know of only four|
|published outlines of the great Sperm   |
|Whale; Colnett's, Huggins's, Frederick  |
|Cuvier's, and Beale's. In the previous  |
|chapter Colnett and Cuvier have been    |
|referred to. Huggins's is far better    |
|than theirs; but, by great odds, Beale's|
|is the best. All Beale's drawings of    |
|this whale are good, excepting the      |
|middle figure in the picture of three   |
|whales in various attitudes, capping    |
|his second chapter. His frontispiece,   |
|boats attacking Sperm Whales, though    |
|no doubt calculated to excite the       |
|civil scepticism of some parlor men,    |
|is admirably correct and life-like in   |
|its general effect. Some of the Sperm   |
|Whale drawings in J. Ross Browne are    |
|pretty correct in contour; but they are |
|wretchedly engraved. That is not his    |
|fault though. Of the Right Whale, the   |
|best outline pictures are in Scoresby;  |
|but they are drawn on too small a scale |
|to convey a desirable impression. He    |
|has but one picture of whaling scenes,  |
|and this is a sad deficiency, because   |
|it is by such pictures only, when at    |
|all well done, that you can derive      |
|anything like a truthful idea of the    |
|living whale as seen by his living      |
|hunters. But, taken for all in all, by  |
|far the finest, though in some details  |
|not the most correct, presentations of  |
|whales and whaling scenes to be anywhere|
|found, are two large French engravings, |
|well executed, and taken from paintings |
|by one Garnery. Respectively, they      |
|represent attacks on the Sperm and      |
|Right Whale. In the first engraving a   |
|noble Sperm Whale is depicted in full   |
|majesty of might, just risen beneath    |
|the boat from the profundities of the   |
|ocean, and bearing high in the air upon |
|his back the terrific wreck of the      |
|stoven planks. The prow of the boat is  |
|partially unbroken, and is drawn just   |
|balancing upon the monster's spine;     |
|and standing in that prow, for that     |
|one single incomputable flash of time,  |
|you behold an oarsman, half shrouded    |
|by the incensed boiling spout of the    |
|whale, and in the act of leaping, as    |
|if from a precipice. The action of the  |
|whole thing is wonderfully good and     |
|true. The half-emptied line-tub floats  |
|on the whitened sea; the wooden poles   |
|of the spilled harpoons obliquely       |
|bob in it; the heads of the swimming    |
|crew are scattered about the whale in   |
|contrasting expressions of affright;    |
|while in the black stormy distance the  |
|ship is bearing down upon the scene.    |
|Serious fault might be found with the   |
|anatomical details of this whale, but   |
|let that pass; since, for the life of   |
|me, I could not draw so good a one. In  |
|the second engraving, the boat is in the|
|act of drawing alongside the barnacled  |
|flank of a large running Right Whale,   |
|that rolls his black weedy bulk in the  |
|sea like some mossy rock-slide from the |
|Patagonian cliffs. His jets are erect,  |
|full, and black like soot; so that from |
|so abounding a smoke in the chimney,    |
|you would think there must be a brave   |
|supper cooking in the great bowels      |
|below. Sea fowls are pecking at the     |
|small crabs, shell-fish, and other sea  |
|candies and maccaroni, which the Right  |
|Whale sometimes carries on his pestilent|
|back. And all the while the thick-lipped|
|leviathan is rushing through the deep,  |
|leaving tons of tumultuous white curds  |
|in his wake, and causing the slight     |
|boat to rock in the swells like a skiff |
|caught nigh the paddle-wheels of an     |
|ocean steamer. Thus, the foreground     |
|is all raging commotion; but behind,    |
|in admirable artistic contrast, is      |
|the glassy level of a sea becalmed,     |
|the drooping unstarched sails of the    |
|powerless ship, and the inert mass of   |
|a dead whale, a conquered fortress,     |
|with the flag of capture lazily hanging |
|from the whale-pole inserted into his   |
|spout-hole. Who Garnery the painter is, |
|or was, I know not. But my life for it  |
|he was either practically conversant    |
|with his subject, or else marvellously  |
|tutored by some experienced whaleman.   |
|The French are the lads for painting    |
|action. Go and gaze upon all the        |
|paintings of Europe, and where will     |
|you find such a gallery of living and   |
|breathing commotion on canvas, as in    |
|that triumphal hall at Versailles; where|
|the beholder fights his way, pell-mell, |
|through the consecutive great battles   |
|of France; where every sword seems a    |
|flash of the Northern Lights, and the   |
|successive armed kings and Emperors dash|
|by, like a charge of crowned centaurs?  |
|Not wholly unworthy of a place in that  |
|gallery, are these sea battle-pieces of |
|Garnery. The natural aptitude of the    |
|French for seizing the picturesqueness  |
|of things seems to be peculiarly evinced|
|in what paintings and engravings they   |
|have of their whaling scenes. With not  |
|one tenth of England's experience in the|
|fishery, and not the thousandth part    |
|of that of the Americans, they have     |
|nevertheless furnished both nations     |
|with the only finished sketches at all  |
|capable of conveying the real spirit of |
|the whale hunt. For the most part, the  |
|English and American whale draughtsmen  |
|seem entirely content with presenting   |
|the mechanical outline of things, such  |
|as the vacant profile of the whale;     |
|which, so far as picturesqueness of     |
|effect is concerned, is about tantamount|
|to sketching the profile of a pyramid.  |
|Even Scoresby, the justly renowned      |
|Right whaleman, after giving us a stiff |
|full length of the Greenland whale,     |
|and three or four delicate miniatures   |
|of narwhales and porpoises, treats us   |
|to a series of classical engravings     |
|of boat hooks, chopping knives, and     |
|grapnels; and with the microscopic      |
|diligence of a Leuwenhoeck submits to   |
|the inspection of a shivering world     |
|ninety-six fac-similes of magnified     |
|Arctic snow crystals. I mean no         |
|disparagement to the excellent voyager  |
|(I honour him for a veteran), but in so |
|important a matter it was certainly an  |
|oversight not to have procured for every|
|crystal a sworn affidavit taken before  |
|a Greenland Justice of the Peace. In    |
|addition to those fine engravings from  |
|Garnery, there are two other French     |
|engravings worthy of note, by some one  |
|who subscribes himself "H. Durand." One |
|of them, though not precisely adapted   |
|to our present purpose, nevertheless    |
|deserves mention on other accounts. It  |
|is a quiet noon-scene among the isles of|
|the Pacific; a French whaler anchored,  |
|inshore, in a calm, and lazily taking   |
|water on board; the loosened sails of   |
|the ship, and the long leaves of the    |
|palms in the background, both drooping  |
|together in the breezeless air. The     |
|effect is very fine, when considered    |
|with reference to its presenting the    |
|hardy fishermen under one of their few  |
|aspects of oriental repose. The other   |
|engraving is quite a different affair:  |
|the ship hove-to upon the open sea, and |
|in the very heart of the Leviathanic    |
|life, with a Right Whale alongside; the |
|vessel (in the act of cutting-in) hove  |
|over to the monster as if to a quay;    |
|and a boat, hurriedly pushing off from  |
|this scene of activity, is about giving |
|chase to whales in the distance. The    |
|harpoons and lances lie levelled for    |
|use; three oarsmen are just setting the |
|mast in its hole; while from a sudden   |
|roll of the sea, the little craft stands|
|half-erect out of the water, like a     |
|rearing horse. From the ship, the smoke |
|of the torments of the boiling whale is |
|going up like the smoke over a village  |
|of smithies; and to windward, a black   |
|cloud, rising up with earnest of squalls|
|and rains, seems to quicken the activity|
|of the excited seamen. On Tower-hill,   |
|as you go down to the London docks, you |
|may have seen a crippled beggar (or     |
|KEDGER, as the sailors say) holding a   |
|painted board before him, representing  |
|the tragic scene in which he lost his   |
|leg. There are three whales and three   |
|boats; and one of the boats (presumed   |
|to contain the missing leg in all its   |
|original integrity) is being crunched   |
|by the jaws of the foremost whale. Any  |
|time these ten years, they tell me,     |
|has that man held up that picture, and  |
|exhibited that stump to an incredulous  |
|world. But the time of his justification|
|has now come. His three whales are as   |
|good whales as were ever published in   |
|Wapping, at any rate; and his stump     |
|as unquestionable a stump as any you    |
|will find in the western clearings.     |
|But, though for ever mounted on that    |
|stump, never a stump-speech does the    |
|poor whaleman make; but, with downcast  |
|eyes, stands ruefully contemplating     |
|his own amputation. Throughout the      |
|Pacific, and also in Nantucket, and New |
|Bedford, and Sag Harbor, you will come  |
|across lively sketches of whales and    |
|whaling-scenes, graven by the fishermen |
|themselves on Sperm Whale-teeth, or     |
|ladies' busks wrought out of the        |
|Right Whale-bone, and other like        |
|skrimshander articles, as the whalemen  |
|call the numerous little ingenious      |
|contrivances they elaborately carve out |
|of the rough material, in their hours   |
|of ocean leisure. Some of them have     |
|little boxes of dentistical-looking     |
|implements, specially intended for      |
|the skrimshandering business. But,      |
|in general, they toil with their        |
|jack-knives alone; and, with that       |
|almost omnipotent tool of the sailor,   |
|they will turn you out anything you     |
|please, in the way of a mariner's       |
|fancy. Long exile from Christendom and  |
|civilization inevitably restores a man  |
|to that condition in which God placed   |
|him, i.e. what is called savagery. Your |
|true whale-hunter is as much a savage   |
|as an Iroquois. I myself am a savage,   |
|owning no allegiance but to the King of |
|the Cannibals; and ready at any moment  |
|to rebel against him. Now, one of the   |
|peculiar characteristics of the savage  |
|in his domestic hours, is his wonderful |
|patience of industry. An ancient        |
|Hawaiian war-club or spear-paddle, in   |
|its full multiplicity and elaboration of|
|carving, is as great a trophy of human  |
|perseverance as a Latin lexicon. For,   |
|with but a bit of broken sea-shell or a |
|shark's tooth, that miraculous intricacy|
|of wooden net-work has been achieved;   |
|and it has cost steady years of steady  |
|application. As with the Hawaiian       |
|savage, so with the white sailor-savage.|
|With the same marvellous patience, and  |
|with the same single shark's tooth, of  |
|his one poor jack-knife, he will carve  |
|you a bit of bone sculpture, not quite  |
|as workmanlike, but as close packed in  |
|its maziness of design, as the Greek    |
|savage, Achilles's shield; and full of  |
|barbaric spirit and suggestiveness,     |
|as the prints of that fine old Dutch    |
|savage, Albert Durer. Wooden whales,    |
|or whales cut in profile out of the     |
|small dark slabs of the noble South Sea |
|war-wood, are frequently met with in the|
|forecastles of American whalers. Some   |
|of them are done with much accuracy. At |
|some old gable-roofed country houses you|
|will see brass whales hung by the tail  |
|for knockers to the road-side door. When|
|the porter is sleepy, the anvil-headed  |
|whale would be best. But these          |
|knocking whales are seldom remarkable   |
|as faithful essays. On the spires of    |
|some old-fashioned churches you will    |
|see sheet-iron whales placed there for  |
|weather-cocks; but they are so elevated,|
|and besides that are to all intents and |
|purposes so labelled with "HANDS OFF!"  |
|you cannot examine them closely enough  |
|to decide upon their merit. In bony,    |
|ribby regions of the earth, where at the|
|base of high broken cliffs masses of    |
|rock lie strewn in fantastic groupings  |
|upon the plain, you will often discover |
|images as of the petrified forms of     |
|the Leviathan partly merged in grass,   |
|which of a windy day breaks against     |
|them in a surf of green surges. Then,   |
|again, in mountainous countries where   |
|the traveller is continually girdled    |
|by amphitheatrical heights; here and    |
|there from some lucky point of view     |
|you will catch passing glimpses of      |
|the profiles of whales defined along    |
|the undulating ridges. But you must     |
|be a thorough whaleman, to see these    |
|sights; and not only that, but if you   |
|wish to return to such a sight again,   |
|you must be sure and take the exact     |
|intersecting latitude and longitude     |
|of your first stand-point, else so      |
|chance-like are such observations of    |
|the hills, that your precise, previous  |
|stand-point would require a laborious   |
|re-discovery; like the Soloma Islands,  |
|which still remain incognita, though    |
|once high-ruffed Mendanna trod them and |
|old Figuera chronicled them. Nor when   |
|expandingly lifted by your subject,     |
|can you fail to trace out great whales  |
|in the starry heavens, and boats in     |
|pursuit of them; as when long filled    |
|with thoughts of war the Eastern nations|
|saw armies locked in battle among the   |
|clouds. Thus at the North have I chased |
|Leviathan round and round the Pole      |
|with the revolutions of the bright      |
|points that first defined him to me.    |
|And beneath the effulgent Antarctic     |
|skies I have boarded the Argo-Navis,    |
|and joined the chase against the starry |
|Cetus far beyond the utmost stretch     |
|of Hydrus and the Flying Fish. With a   |
|frigate's anchors for my bridle-bitts   |
|and fasces of harpoons for spurs, would |
|I could mount that whale and leap the   |
|topmost skies, to see whether the fabled|
|heavens with all their countless tents  |
|really lie encamped beyond my mortal    |
|sight! Steering north-eastward from     |
|the Crozetts, we fell in with vast      |
|meadows of brit, the minute, yellow     |
|substance, upon which the Right Whale   |
|largely feeds. For leagues and leagues  |
|it undulated round us, so that we       |
|seemed to be sailing through boundless  |
|fields of ripe and golden wheat. On the |
|second day, numbers of Right Whales     |
|were seen, who, secure from the attack  |
|of a Sperm Whaler like the Pequod, with |
|open jaws sluggishly swam through the   |
|brit, which, adhering to the fringing   |
|fibres of that wondrous Venetian blind  |
|in their mouths, was in that manner     |
|separated from the water that escaped   |
|at the lip. As morning mowers, who side |
|by side slowly and seethingly advance   |
|their scythes through the long wet      |
|grass of marshy meads; even so these    |
|monsters swam, making a strange, grassy,|
|cutting sound; and leaving behind       |
|them endless swaths of blue upon the    |
|yellow sea. That part of the sea known  |
|among whalemen as the "Brazil Banks"    |
|does not bear that name as the Banks    |
|of Newfoundland do, because of there    |
|being shallows and soundings there, but |
|because of this remarkable meadow-like  |
|appearance, caused by the vast drifts   |
|of brit continually floating in those   |
|latitudes, where the Right Whale is     |
|often chased. But it was only the sound |
|they made as they parted the brit which |
|at all reminded one of mowers. Seen     |
|from the mast-heads, especially when    |
|they paused and were stationary for a   |
|while, their vast black forms looked    |
|more like lifeless masses of rock than  |
|anything else. And as in the great      |
|hunting countries of India, the stranger|
|at a distance will sometimes pass on    |
|the plains recumbent elephants without  |
|knowing them to be such, taking them    |
|for bare, blackened elevations of the   |
|soil; even so, often, with him, who for |
|the first time beholds this species of  |
|the leviathans of the sea. And even     |
|when recognised at last, their immense  |
|magnitude renders it very hard really   |
|to believe that such bulky masses of    |
|overgrowth can possibly be instinct, in |
|all parts, with the same sort of life   |
|that lives in a dog or a horse. Indeed, |
|in other respects, you can hardly regard|
|any creatures of the deep with the      |
|same feelings that you do those of the  |
|shore. For though some old naturalists  |
|have maintained that all creatures of   |
|the land are of their kind in the sea;  |
|and though taking a broad general view  |
|of the thing, this may very well be;    |
|yet coming to specialties, where, for   |
|example, does the ocean furnish any     |
|fish that in disposition answers to     |
|the sagacious kindness of the dog? The  |
|accursed shark alone can in any generic |
|respect be said to bear comparative     |
|analogy to him. But though, to landsmen |
|in general, the native inhabitants      |
|of the seas have ever been regarded     |
|with emotions unspeakably unsocial and  |
|repelling; though we know the sea to be |
|an everlasting terra incognita, so that |
|Columbus sailed over numberless unknown |
|worlds to discover his one superficial  |
|western one; though, by vast odds, the  |
|most terrific of all mortal disasters   |
|have immemorially and indiscriminately  |
|befallen tens and hundreds of thousands |
|of those who have gone upon the waters; |
|though but a moment's consideration will|
|teach, that however baby man may brag   |
|of his science and skill, and however   |
|much, in a flattering future, that      |
|science and skill may augment; yet for  |
|ever and for ever, to the crack of doom,|
|the sea will insult and murder him,     |
|and pulverize the stateliest, stiffest  |
|frigate he can make; nevertheless, by   |
|the continual repetition of these very  |
|impressions, man has lost that sense    |
|of the full awfulness of the sea which  |
|aboriginally belongs to it. The first   |
|boat we read of, floated on an ocean,   |
|that with Portuguese vengeance had      |
|whelmed a whole world without leaving   |
|so much as a widow. That same ocean     |
|rolls now; that same ocean destroyed    |
|the wrecked ships of last year. Yea,    |
|foolish mortals, Noah's flood is not    |
|yet subsided; two thirds of the fair    |
|world it yet covers. Wherein differ the |
|sea and the land, that a miracle upon   |
|one is not a miracle upon the other?    |
|Preternatural terrors rested upon the   |
|Hebrews, when under the feet of Korah   |
|and his company the live ground opened  |
|and swallowed them up for ever; yet not |
|a modern sun ever sets, but in precisely|
|the same manner the live sea swallows   |
|up ships and crews. But not only is the |
|sea such a foe to man who is an alien to|
|it, but it is also a fiend to its own   |
|off-spring; worse than the Persian host |
|who murdered his own guests; sparing not|
|the creatures which itself hath spawned.|
|Like a savage tigress that tossing in   |
|the jungle overlays her own cubs, so the|
|sea dashes even the mightiest whales    |
|against the rocks, and leaves them there|
|side by side with the split wrecks of   |
|ships. No mercy, no power but its own   |
|controls it. Panting and snorting like  |
|a mad battle steed that has lost its    |
|rider, the masterless ocean overruns    |
|the globe. Consider the subtleness      |
|of the sea; how its most dreaded        |
|creatures glide under water, unapparent |
|for the most part, and treacherously    |
|hidden beneath the loveliest tints      |
|of azure. Consider also the devilish    |
|brilliance and beauty of many of its    |
|most remorseless tribes, as the dainty  |
|embellished shape of many species       |
|of sharks. Consider, once more, the     |
|universal cannibalism of the sea; all   |
|whose creatures prey upon each other,   |
|carrying on eternal war since the world |
|began. Consider all this; and then turn |
|to this green, gentle, and most docile  |
|earth; consider them both, the sea and  |
|the land; and do you not find a strange |
|analogy to something in yourself? For   |
|as this appalling ocean surrounds the   |
|verdant land, so in the soul of man     |
|there lies one insular Tahiti, full of  |
|peace and joy, but encompassed by all   |
|the horrors of the half known life. God |
|keep thee! Push not off from that isle, |
|thou canst never return! Slowly wading  |
|through the meadows of brit, the Pequod |
|still held on her way north-eastward    |
|towards the island of Java; a gentle    |
|air impelling her keel, so that in the  |
|surrounding serenity her three tall     |
|tapering masts mildly waved to that     |
|languid breeze, as three mild palms on a|
|plain. And still, at wide intervals in  |
|the silvery night, the lonely, alluring |
|jet would be seen. But one transparent  |
|blue morning, when a stillness almost   |
|preternatural spread over the sea,      |
|however unattended with any stagnant    |
|calm; when the long burnished sun-glade |
|on the waters seemed a golden finger    |
|laid across them, enjoining some        |
|secrecy; when the slippered waves       |
|whispered together as they softly ran   |
|on; in this profound hush of the visible|
|sphere a strange spectre was seen by    |
|Daggoo from the main-mast-head. In the  |
|distance, a great white mass lazily     |
|rose, and rising higher and higher, and |
|disentangling itself from the azure,    |
|at last gleamed before our prow like a  |
|snow-slide, new slid from the hills.    |
|Thus glistening for a moment, as slowly |
|it subsided, and sank. Then once more   |
|arose, and silently gleamed. It seemed  |
|not a whale; and yet is this Moby Dick? |
|thought Daggoo. Again the phantom went  |
|down, but on re-appearing once more,    |
|with a stiletto-like cry that startled  |
|every man from his nod, the negro       |
|yelled out--"There! there again! there  |
|she breaches! right ahead! The White    |
|Whale, the White Whale!" Upon this,     |
|the seamen rushed to the yard-arms, as  |
|in swarming-time the bees rush to the   |
|boughs. Bare-headed in the sultry sun,  |
|Ahab stood on the bowsprit, and with    |
|one hand pushed far behind in readiness |
|to wave his orders to the helmsman,     |
|cast his eager glance in the direction  |
|indicated aloft by the outstretched     |
|motionless arm of Daggoo. Whether the   |
|flitting attendance of the one still and|
|solitary jet had gradually worked upon  |
|Ahab, so that he was now prepared to    |
|connect the ideas of mildness and repose|
|with the first sight of the particular  |
|whale he pursued; however this was, or  |
|whether his eagerness betrayed him;     |
|whichever way it might have been, no    |
|sooner did he distinctly perceive the   |
|white mass, than with a quick intensity |
|he instantly gave orders for lowering.  |
|The four boats were soon on the water;  |
|Ahab's in advance, and all swiftly      |
|pulling towards their prey. Soon it went|
|down, and while, with oars suspended,   |
|we were awaiting its reappearance, lo!  |
|in the same spot where it sank, once    |
|more it slowly rose. Almost forgetting  |
|for the moment all thoughts of Moby     |
|Dick, we now gazed at the most wondrous |
|phenomenon which the secret seas have   |
|hitherto revealed to mankind. A vast    |
|pulpy mass, furlongs in length and      |
|breadth, of a glancing cream-colour,    |
|lay floating on the water, innumerable  |
|long arms radiating from its centre,    |
|and curling and twisting like a nest    |
|of anacondas, as if blindly to clutch   |
|at any hapless object within reach.     |
|No perceptible face or front did it     |
|have; no conceivable token of either    |
|sensation or instinct; but undulated    |
|there on the billows, an unearthly,     |
|formless, chance-like apparition of     |
|life. As with a low sucking sound it    |
|slowly disappeared again, Starbuck      |
|still gazing at the agitated waters     |
|where it had sunk, with a wild voice    |
|exclaimed--"Almost rather had I seen    |
|Moby Dick and fought him, than to have  |
|seen thee, thou white ghost!" "What was |
|it, Sir?" said Flask. "The great live   |
|squid, which, they say, few whale-ships |
|ever beheld, and returned to their      |
|ports to tell of it." But Ahab said     |
|nothing; turning his boat, he sailed    |
|back to the vessel; the rest as silently|
|following. Whatever superstitions the   |
|sperm whalemen in general have connected|
|with the sight of this object, certain  |
|it is, that a glimpse of it being so    |
|very unusual, that circumstance has gone|
|far to invest it with portentousness. So|
|rarely is it beheld, that though one and|
|all of them declare it to be the largest|
|animated thing in the ocean, yet very   |
|few of them have any but the most vague |
|ideas concerning its true nature and    |
|form; notwithstanding, they believe it  |
|to furnish to the sperm whale his only  |
|food. For though other species of whales|
|find their food above water, and may    |
|be seen by man in the act of feeding,   |
|the spermaceti whale obtains his whole  |
|food in unknown zones below the surface;|
|and only by inference is it that any    |
|one can tell of what, precisely, that   |
|food consists. At times, when closely   |
|pursued, he will disgorge what are      |
|supposed to be the detached arms of     |
|the squid; some of them thus exhibited  |
|exceeding twenty and thirty feet in     |
|length. They fancy that the monster to  |
|which these arms belonged ordinarily    |
|clings by them to the bed of the ocean; |
|and that the sperm whale, unlike other  |
|species, is supplied with teeth in order|
|to attack and tear it. There seems some |
|ground to imagine that the great Kraken |
|of Bishop Pontoppodan may ultimately    |
|resolve itself into Squid. The manner   |
|in which the Bishop describes it, as    |
|alternately rising and sinking, with    |
|some other particulars he narrates, in  |
|all this the two correspond. But much   |
|abatement is necessary with respect to  |
|the incredible bulk he assigns it. By   |
|some naturalists who have vaguely heard |
|rumors of the mysterious creature, here |
|spoken of, it is included among the     |
|class of cuttle-fish, to which, indeed, |
|in certain external respects it would   |
|seem to belong, but only as the Anak of |
|the tribe. With reference to the whaling|
|scene shortly to be described, as well  |
|as for the better understanding of all  |
|similar scenes elsewhere presented,     |
|I have here to speak of the magical,    |
|sometimes horrible whale-line. The line |
|originally used in the fishery was of   |
|the best hemp, slightly vapoured with   |
|tar, not impregnated with it, as in     |
|the case of ordinary ropes; for while   |
|tar, as ordinarily used, makes the      |
|hemp more pliable to the rope-maker,    |
|and also renders the rope itself more   |
|convenient to the sailor for common ship|
|use; yet, not only would the ordinary   |
|quantity too much stiffen the whale-line|
|for the close coiling to which it must  |
|be subjected; but as most seamen are    |
|beginning to learn, tar in general by   |
|no means adds to the rope's durability  |
|or strength, however much it may give   |
|it compactness and gloss. Of late years |
|the Manilla rope has in the American    |
|fishery almost entirely superseded      |
|hemp as a material for whale-lines;     |
|for, though not so durable as hemp,     |
|it is stronger, and far more soft and   |
|elastic; and I will add (since there is |
|an aesthetics in all things), is much   |
|more handsome and becoming to the boat, |
|than hemp. Hemp is a dusky, dark fellow,|
|a sort of Indian; but Manilla is as a   |
|golden-haired Circassian to behold.     |
|The whale-line is only two-thirds of    |
|an inch in thickness. At first sight,   |
|you would not think it so strong as it  |
|really is. By experiment its one and    |
|fifty yarns will each suspend a weight  |
|of one hundred and twenty pounds;       |
|so that the whole rope will bear a      |
|strain nearly equal to three tons. In   |
|length, the common sperm whale-line     |
|measures something over two hundred     |
|fathoms. Towards the stern of the boat  |
|it is spirally coiled away in the tub,  |
|not like the worm-pipe of a still       |
|though, but so as to form one round,    |
|cheese-shaped mass of densely bedded    |
|"sheaves," or layers of concentric      |
|spiralizations, without any hollow but  |
|the "heart," or minute vertical tube    |
|formed at the axis of the cheese. As    |
|the least tangle or kink in the coiling |
|would, in running out, infallibly take  |
|somebody's arm, leg, or entire body off,|
|the utmost precaution is used in stowing|
|the line in its tub. Some harpooneers   |
|will consume almost an entire morning in|
|this business, carrying the line high   |
|aloft and then reeving it downwards     |
|through a block towards the tub, so as  |
|in the act of coiling to free it from   |
|all possible wrinkles and twists. In    |
|the English boats two tubs are used     |
|instead of one; the same line being     |
|continuously coiled in both tubs. There |
|is some advantage in this; because these|
|twin-tubs being so small they fit more  |
|readily into the boat, and do not strain|
|it so much; whereas, the American tub,  |
|nearly three feet in diameter and of    |
|proportionate depth, makes a rather     |
|bulky freight for a craft whose planks  |
|are but one half-inch in thickness;     |
|for the bottom of the whale-boat is     |
|like critical ice, which will bear up   |
|a considerable distributed weight, but  |
|not very much of a concentrated one.    |
|When the painted canvas cover is clapped|
|on the American line-tub, the boat      |
|looks as if it were pulling off with a  |
|prodigious great wedding-cake to present|
|to the whales. Both ends of the line    |
|are exposed; the lower end terminating  |
|in an eye-splice or loop coming up      |
|from the bottom against the side of     |
|the tub, and hanging over its edge      |
|completely disengaged from everything.  |
|This arrangement of the lower end is    |
|necessary on two accounts. First: In    |
|order to facilitate the fastening to it |
|of an additional line from a neighboring|
|boat, in case the stricken whale should |
|sound so deep as to threaten to carry   |
|off the entire line originally attached |
|to the harpoon. In these instances, the |
|whale of course is shifted like a mug   |
|of ale, as it were, from the one boat   |
|to the other; though the first boat     |
|always hovers at hand to assist its     |
|consort. Second: This arrangement is    |
|indispensable for common safety's sake; |
|for were the lower end of the line in   |
|any way attached to the boat, and were  |
|the whale then to run the line out to   |
|the end almost in a single, smoking     |
|minute as he sometimes does, he would   |
|not stop there, for the doomed boat     |
|would infallibly be dragged down after  |
|him into the profundity of the sea;     |
|and in that case no town-crier would    |
|ever find her again. Before lowering    |
|the boat for the chase, the upper end   |
|of the line is taken aft from the tub,  |
|and passing round the loggerhead there, |
|is again carried forward the entire     |
|length of the boat, resting crosswise   |
|upon the loom or handle of every man's  |
|oar, so that it jogs against his wrist  |
|in rowing; and also passing between     |
|the men, as they alternately sit at     |
|the opposite gunwales, to the leaded    |
|chocks or grooves in the extreme pointed|
|prow of the boat, where a wooden pin    |
|or skewer the size of a common quill,   |
|prevents it from slipping out. From the |
|chocks it hangs in a slight festoon     |
|over the bows, and is then passed       |
|inside the boat again; and some ten     |
|or twenty fathoms (called box-line)     |
|being coiled upon the box in the bows,  |
|it continues its way to the gunwale     |
|still a little further aft, and is then |
|attached to the short-warp--the rope    |
|which is immediately connected with the |
|harpoon; but previous to that connexion,|
|the short-warp goes through sundry      |
|mystifications too tedious to detail.   |
|Thus the whale-line folds the whole     |
|boat in its complicated coils, twisting |
|and writhing around it in almost every  |
|direction. All the oarsmen are involved |
|in its perilous contortions; so that to |
|the timid eye of the landsman, they seem|
|as Indian jugglers, with the deadliest  |
|snakes sportively festooning their      |
|limbs. Nor can any son of mortal woman, |
|for the first time, seat himself amid   |
|those hempen intricacies, and while     |
|straining his utmost at the oar, bethink|
|him that at any unknown instant the     |
|harpoon may be darted, and all these    |
|horrible contortions be put in play     |
|like ringed lightnings; he cannot be    |
|thus circumstanced without a shudder    |
|that makes the very marrow in his bones |
|to quiver in him like a shaken jelly.   |
|Yet habit--strange thing! what cannot   |
|habit accomplish?--Gayer sallies, more  |
|merry mirth, better jokes, and brighter |
|repartees, you never heard over your    |
|mahogany, than you will hear over the   |
|half-inch white cedar of the whale-boat,|
|when thus hung in hangman's nooses; and,|
|like the six burghers of Calais before  |
|King Edward, the six men composing the  |
|crew pull into the jaws of death, with  |
|a halter around every neck, as you may  |
|say. Perhaps a very little thought will |
|now enable you to account for those     |
|repeated whaling disasters--some few of |
|which are casually chronicled--of this  |
|man or that man being taken out of the  |
|boat by the line, and lost. For, when   |
|the line is darting out, to be seated   |
|then in the boat, is like being seated  |
|in the midst of the manifold whizzings  |
|of a steam-engine in full play, when    |
|every flying beam, and shaft, and       |
|wheel, is grazing you. It is worse;     |
|for you cannot sit motionless in the    |
|heart of these perils, because the boat |
|is rocking like a cradle, and you are   |
|pitched one way and the other, without  |
|the slightest warning; and only by a    |
|certain self-adjusting buoyancy and     |
|simultaneousness of volition and action,|
|can you escape being made a Mazeppa of, |
|and run away with where the all-seeing  |
|sun himself could never pierce you out. |
|Again: as the profound calm which only  |
|apparently precedes and prophesies of   |
|the storm, is perhaps more awful than   |
|the storm itself; for, indeed, the calm |
|is but the wrapper and envelope of the  |
|storm; and contains it in itself, as the|
|seemingly harmless rifle holds the fatal|
|powder, and the ball, and the explosion;|
|so the graceful repose of the line,     |
|as it silently serpentines about the    |
|oarsmen before being brought into actual|
|play--this is a thing which carries more|
|of true terror than any other aspect of |
|this dangerous affair. But why say more?|
|All men live enveloped in whale-lines.  |
|All are born with halters round their   |
|necks; but it is only when caught in    |
|the swift, sudden turn of death, that   |
|mortals realize the silent, subtle,     |
|ever-present perils of life. And if you |
|be a philosopher, though seated in the  |
|whale-boat, you would not at heart feel |
|one whit more of terror, than though    |
|seated before your evening fire with    |
|a poker, and not a harpoon, by your     |
|side. If to Starbuck the apparition     |
|of the Squid was a thing of portents,   |
|to Queequeg it was quite a different    |
|object. "When you see him 'quid," said  |
|the savage, honing his harpoon in the   |
|bow of his hoisted boat, "then you quick|
|see him 'parm whale." The next day was  |
|exceedingly still and sultry, and with  |
|nothing special to engage them, the     |
|Pequod's crew could hardly resist the   |
|spell of sleep induced by such a vacant |
|sea. For this part of the Indian Ocean  |
|through which we then were voyaging is  |
|not what whalemen call a lively ground; |
|that is, it affords fewer glimpses      |
|of porpoises, dolphins, flying-fish,    |
|and other vivacious denizens of more    |
|stirring waters, than those off the Rio |
|de la Plata, or the in-shore ground off |
|Peru. It was my turn to stand at the    |
|foremast-head; and with my shoulders    |
|leaning against the slackened royal     |
|shrouds, to and fro I idly swayed       |
|in what seemed an enchanted air. No     |
|resolution could withstand it; in that  |
|dreamy mood losing all consciousness,   |
|at last my soul went out of my body;    |
|though my body still continued to sway  |
|as a pendulum will, long after the power|
|which first moved it is withdrawn. Ere  |
|forgetfulness altogether came over me,  |
|I had noticed that the seamen at the    |
|main and mizzen-mast-heads were already |
|drowsy. So that at last all three of us |
|lifelessly swung from the spars, and for|
|every swing that we made there was a nod|
|from below from the slumbering helmsman.|
|The waves, too, nodded their indolent   |
|crests; and across the wide trance of   |
|the sea, east nodded to west, and the   |
|sun over all. Suddenly bubbles seemed   |
|bursting beneath my closed eyes; like   |
|vices my hands grasped the shrouds; some|
|invisible, gracious agency preserved    |
|me; with a shock I came back to life.   |
|And lo! close under our lee, not forty  |
|fathoms off, a gigantic Sperm Whale lay |
|rolling in the water like the capsized  |
|hull of a frigate, his broad, glossy    |
|back, of an Ethiopian hue, glistening in|
|the sun's rays like a mirror. But lazily|
|undulating in the trough of the sea,    |
|and ever and anon tranquilly spouting   |
|his vapoury jet, the whale looked like  |
|a portly burgher smoking his pipe of    |
|a warm afternoon. But that pipe, poor   |
|whale, was thy last. As if struck by    |
|some enchanter's wand, the sleepy ship  |
|and every sleeper in it all at once     |
|started into wakefulness; and more than |
|a score of voices from all parts of the |
|vessel, simultaneously with the three   |
|notes from aloft, shouted forth the     |
|accustomed cry, as the great fish slowly|
|and regularly spouted the sparkling     |
|brine into the air. "Clear away the     |
|boats! Luff!" cried Ahab. And obeying   |
|his own order, he dashed the helm down  |
|before the helmsman could handle the    |
|spokes. The sudden exclamations of the  |
|crew must have alarmed the whale; and   |
|ere the boats were down, majestically   |
|turning, he swam away to the leeward,   |
|but with such a steady tranquillity, and|
|making so few ripples as he swam, that  |
|thinking after all he might not as yet  |
|be alarmed, Ahab gave orders that not   |
|an oar should be used, and no man must  |
|speak but in whispers. So seated like   |
|Ontario Indians on the gunwales of the  |
|boats, we swiftly but silently paddled  |
|along; the calm not admitting of the    |
|noiseless sails being set. Presently,   |
|as we thus glided in chase, the monster |
|perpendicularly flitted his tail forty  |
|feet into the air, and then sank out    |
|of sight like a tower swallowed up.     |
|"There go flukes!" was the cry, an      |
|announcement immediately followed by    |
|Stubb's producing his match and igniting|
|his pipe, for now a respite was granted.|
|After the full interval of his sounding |
|had elapsed, the whale rose again, and  |
|being now in advance of the smoker's    |
|boat, and much nearer to it than to any |
|of the others, Stubb counted upon the   |
|honour of the capture. It was obvious,  |
|now, that the whale had at length become|
|aware of his pursuers. All silence of   |
|cautiousness was therefore no longer of |
|use. Paddles were dropped, and oars came|
|loudly into play. And still puffing at  |
|his pipe, Stubb cheered on his crew to  |
|the assault. Yes, a mighty change had   |
|come over the fish. All alive to his    |
|jeopardy, he was going "head out"; that |
|part obliquely projecting from the mad  |
|yeast which he brewed. It will be seen  |
|in some other place of what a very light|
|substance the entire interior of the    |
|sperm whale's enormous head consists.   |
|Though apparently the most massive, it  |
|is by far the most buoyant part about   |
|him. So that with ease he elevates it   |
|in the air, and invariably does so when |
|going at his utmost speed. Besides,     |
|such is the breadth of the upper part   |
|of the front of his head, and such the  |
|tapering cut-water formation of the     |
|lower part, that by obliquely elevating |
|his head, he thereby may be said to     |
|transform himself from a bluff-bowed    |
|sluggish galliot into a sharppointed New|
|York pilot-boat. "Start her, start her, |
|my men! Don't hurry yourselves; take    |
|plenty of time--but start her; start    |
|her like thunder-claps, that's all,"    |
|cried Stubb, spluttering out the smoke  |
|as he spoke. "Start her, now; give 'em  |
|the long and strong stroke, Tashtego.   |
|Start her, Tash, my boy--start her, all;|
|but keep cool, keep cool--cucumbers is  |
|the word--easy, easy--only start her    |
|like grim death and grinning devils,    |
|and raise the buried dead perpendicular |
|out of their graves, boys--that's all.  |
|Start her!" "Woo-hoo! Wa-hee!" screamed |
|the Gay-Header in reply, raising        |
|some old war-whoop to the skies; as     |
|every oarsman in the strained boat      |
|involuntarily bounced forward with the  |
|one tremendous leading stroke which the |
|eager Indian gave. But his wild screams |
|were answered by others quite as wild.  |
|"Kee-hee! Kee-hee!" yelled Daggoo,      |
|straining forwards and backwards on his |
|seat, like a pacing tiger in his cage.  |
|"Ka-la! Koo-loo!" howled Queequeg, as   |
|if smacking his lips over a mouthful    |
|of Grenadier's steak. And thus with     |
|oars and yells the keels cut the sea.   |
|Meanwhile, Stubb retaining his place in |
|the van, still encouraged his men to    |
|the onset, all the while puffing the    |
|smoke from his mouth. Like desperadoes  |
|they tugged and they strained, till     |
|the welcome cry was heard--"Stand up,   |
|Tashtego!--give it to him!" The harpoon |
|was hurled. "Stern all!" The oarsmen    |
|backed water; the same moment something |
|went hot and hissing along every one of |
|their wrists. It was the magical line.  |
|An instant before, Stubb had swiftly    |
|caught two additional turns with it     |
|round the loggerhead, whence, by reason |
|of its increased rapid circlings, a     |
|hempen blue smoke now jetted up and     |
|mingled with the steady fumes from      |
|his pipe. As the line passed round      |
|and round the loggerhead; so also,      |
|just before reaching that point, it     |
|blisteringly passed through and through |
|both of Stubb's hands, from which the   |
|hand-cloths, or squares of quilted      |
|canvas sometimes worn at these times,   |
|had accidentally dropped. It was like   |
|holding an enemy's sharp two-edged sword|
|by the blade, and that enemy all the    |
|time striving to wrest it out of your   |
|clutch. "Wet the line! wet the line!"   |
|cried Stubb to the tub oarsman (him     |
|seated by the tub) who, snatching off   |
|his hat, dashed sea-water into it.*     |
|More turns were taken, so that the line |
|began holding its place. The boat now   |
|flew through the boiling water like     |
|a shark all fins. Stubb and Tashtego    |
|here changed places--stem for stern--a  |
|staggering business truly in that       |
|rocking commotion. Partly to show the   |
|indispensableness of this act, it may   |
|here be stated, that, in the old Dutch  |
|fishery, a mop was used to dash the     |
|running line with water; in many other  |
|ships, a wooden piggin, or bailer, is   |
|set apart for that purpose. Your hat,   |
|however, is the most convenient. From   |
|the vibrating line extending the entire |
|length of the upper part of the boat,   |
|and from its now being more tight than  |
|a harpstring, you would have thought    |
|the craft had two keels--one cleaving   |
|the water, the other the air--as the    |
|boat churned on through both opposing   |
|elements at once. A continual cascade   |
|played at the bows; a ceaseless whirling|
|eddy in her wake; and, at the slightest |
|motion from within, even but of a little|
|finger, the vibrating, cracking craft   |
|canted over her spasmodic gunwale into  |
|the sea. Thus they rushed; each man with|
|might and main clinging to his seat,    |
|to prevent being tossed to the foam;    |
|and the tall form of Tashtego at the    |
|steering oar crouching almost double,   |
|in order to bring down his centre of    |
|gravity. Whole Atlantics and Pacifics   |
|seemed passed as they shot on their     |
|way, till at length the whale somewhat  |
|slackened his flight. "Haul in--haul    |
|in!" cried Stubb to the bowsman! and,   |
|facing round towards the whale, all     |
|hands began pulling the boat up to him, |
|while yet the boat was being towed on.  |
|Soon ranging up by his flank, Stubb,    |
|firmly planting his knee in the clumsy  |
|cleat, darted dart after dart into the  |
|flying fish; at the word of command,    |
|the boat alternately sterning out of    |
|the way of the whale's horrible wallow, |
|and then ranging up for another fling.  |
|The red tide now poured from all sides  |
|of the monster like brooks down a       |
|hill. His tormented body rolled not in  |
|brine but in blood, which bubbled and   |
|seethed for furlongs behind in their    |
|wake. The slanting sun playing upon     |
|this crimson pond in the sea, sent back |
|its reflection into every face, so that |
|they all glowed to each other like red  |
|men. And all the while, jet after jet   |
|of white smoke was agonizingly shot     |
|from the spiracle of the whale, and     |
|vehement puff after puff from the mouth |
|of the excited headsman; as at every    |
|dart, hauling in upon his crooked lance |
|(by the line attached to it), Stubb     |
|straightened it again and again, by a   |
|few rapid blows against the gunwale,    |
|then again and again sent it into the   |
|whale. "Pull up--pull up!" he now cried |
|to the bowsman, as the waning whale     |
|relaxed in his wrath. "Pull up!--close  |
|to!" and the boat ranged along the      |
|fish's flank. When reaching far over    |
|the bow, Stubb slowly churned his long  |
|sharp lance into the fish, and kept it  |
|there, carefully churning and churning, |
|as if cautiously seeking to feel after  |
|some gold watch that the whale might    |
|have swallowed, and which he was fearful|
|of breaking ere he could hook it out.   |
|But that gold watch he sought was the   |
|innermost life of the fish. And now it  |
|is struck; for, starting from his trance|
|into that unspeakable thing called      |
|his "flurry," the monster horribly      |
|wallowed in his blood, overwrapped      |
|himself in impenetrable, mad, boiling   |
|spray, so that the imperilled craft,    |
|instantly dropping astern, had much     |
|ado blindly to struggle out from that   |
|phrensied twilight into the clear air   |
|of the day. And now abating in his      |
|flurry, the whale once more rolled out  |
|into view; surging from side to side;   |
|spasmodically dilating and contracting  |
|his spout-hole, with sharp, cracking,   |
|agonized respirations. At last, gush    |
|after gush of clotted red gore, as if   |
|it had been the purple lees of red      |
|wine, shot into the frighted air; and   |
|falling back again, ran dripping down   |
|his motionless flanks into the sea. His |
|heart had burst! "He's dead, Mr. Stubb,"|
|said Daggoo. "Yes; both pipes smoked    |
|out!" and withdrawing his own from his  |
|mouth, Stubb scattered the dead ashes   |
|over the water; and, for a moment,      |
|stood thoughtfully eyeing the vast      |
|corpse he had made. A word concerning   |
|an incident in the last chapter.        |
|According to the invariable usage of    |
|the fishery, the whale-boat pushes off  |
|from the ship, with the headsman or     |
|whale-killer as temporary steersman,    |
|and the harpooneer or whale-fastener    |
|pulling the foremost oar, the one known |
|as the harpooneer-oar. Now it needs     |
|a strong, nervous arm to strike the     |
|first iron into the fish; for often,    |
|in what is called a long dart, the      |
|heavy implement has to be flung to the  |
|distance of twenty or thirty feet. But  |
|however prolonged and exhausting the    |
|chase, the harpooneer is expected to    |
|pull his oar meanwhile to the uttermost;|
|indeed, he is expected to set an example|
|of superhuman activity to the rest,     |
|not only by incredible rowing, but by   |
|repeated loud and intrepid exclamations;|
|and what it is to keep shouting at the  |
|top of one's compass, while all the     |
|other muscles are strained and half     |
|started--what that is none know but     |
|those who have tried it. For one, I     |
|cannot bawl very heartily and work very |
|recklessly at one and the same time. In |
|this straining, bawling state, then,    |
|with his back to the fish, all at once  |
|the exhausted harpooneer hears the      |
|exciting cry--"Stand up, and give it    |
|to him!" He now has to drop and secure  |
|his oar, turn round on his centre half  |
|way, seize his harpoon from the crotch, |
|and with what little strength may       |
|remain, he essays to pitch it somehow   |
|into the whale. No wonder, taking the   |
|whole fleet of whalemen in a body, that |
|out of fifty fair chances for a dart,   |
|not five are successful; no wonder      |
|that so many hapless harpooneers are    |
|madly cursed and disrated; no wonder    |
|that some of them actually burst their  |
|blood-vessels in the boat; no wonder    |
|that some sperm whalemen are absent     |
|four years with four barrels; no wonder |
|that to many ship owners, whaling is    |
|but a losing concern; for it is the     |
|harpooneer that makes the voyage, and   |
|if you take the breath out of his body  |
|how can you expect to find it there     |
|when most wanted! Again, if the dart be |
|successful, then at the second critical |
|instant, that is, when the whale starts |
|to run, the boatheader and harpooneer   |
|likewise start to running fore and aft, |
|to the imminent jeopardy of themselves  |
|and every one else. It is then they     |
|change places; and the headsman, the    |
|chief officer of the little craft, takes|
|his proper station in the bows of the   |
|boat. Now, I care not who maintains     |
|the contrary, but all this is both      |
|foolish and unnecessary. The headsman   |
|should stay in the bows from first to   |
|last; he should both dart the harpoon   |
|and the lance, and no rowing whatever   |
|should be expected of him, except under |
|circumstances obvious to any fisherman. |
|I know that this would sometimes involve|
|a slight loss of speed in the chase; but|
|long experience in various whalemen of  |
|more than one nation has convinced me   |
|that in the vast majority of failures   |
|in the fishery, it has not by any means |
|been so much the speed of the whale as  |
|the before described exhaustion of the  |
|harpooneer that has caused them. To     |
|insure the greatest efficiency in the   |
|dart, the harpooneers of this world     |
|must start to their feet from out of    |
|idleness, and not from out of toil. Out |
|of the trunk, the branches grow; out    |
|of them, the twigs. So, in productive   |
|subjects, grow the chapters. The crotch |
|alluded to on a previous page deserves  |
|independent mention. It is a notched    |
|stick of a peculiar form, some two feet |
|in length, which is perpendicularly     |
|inserted into the starboard gunwale near|
|the bow, for the purpose of furnishing  |
|a rest for the wooden extremity of the  |
|harpoon, whose other naked, barbed      |
|end slopingly projects from the prow.   |
|Thereby the weapon is instantly at hand |
|to its hurler, who snatches it up as    |
|readily from its rest as a backwoodsman |
|swings his rifle from the wall. It is   |
|customary to have two harpoons reposing |
|in the crotch, respectively called      |
|the first and second irons. But these   |
|two harpoons, each by its own cord,     |
|are both connected with the line; the   |
|object being this: to dart them both,   |
|if possible, one instantly after the    |
|other into the same whale; so that if,  |
|in the coming drag, one should draw     |
|out, the other may still retain a hold. |
|It is a doubling of the chances. But    |
|it very often happens that owing to     |
|the instantaneous, violent, convulsive  |
|running of the whale upon receiving the |
|first iron, it becomes impossible for   |
|the harpooneer, however lightning-like  |
|in his movements, to pitch the second   |
|iron into him. Nevertheless, as the     |
|second iron is already connected with   |
|the line, and the line is running,      |
|hence that weapon must, at all events,  |
|be anticipatingly tossed out of the     |
|boat, somehow and somewhere; else the   |
|most terrible jeopardy would involve    |
|all hands. Tumbled into the water,      |
|it accordingly is in such cases; the    |
|spare coils of box line (mentioned in a |
|preceding chapter) making this feat, in |
|most instances, prudently practicable.  |
|But this critical act is not always     |
|unattended with the saddest and most    |
|fatal casualties. Furthermore: you      |
|must know that when the second iron     |
|is thrown overboard, it thenceforth     |
|becomes a dangling, sharp-edged terror, |
|skittishly curvetting about both boat   |
|and whale, entangling the lines, or     |
|cutting them, and making a prodigious   |
|sensation in all directions. Nor, in    |
|general, is it possible to secure it    |
|again until the whale is fairly captured|
|and a corpse. Consider, now, how it     |
|must be in the case of four boats all   |
|engaging one unusually strong, active,  |
|and knowing whale; when owing to these  |
|qualities in him, as well as to the     |
|thousand concurring accidents of such   |
|an audacious enterprise, eight or ten   |
|loose second irons may be simultaneously|
|dangling about him. For, of course,     |
|each boat is supplied with several      |
|harpoons to bend on to the line should  |
|the first one be ineffectually darted   |
|without recovery. All these particulars |
|are faithfully narrated here, as they   |
|will not fail to elucidate several most |
|important, however intricate passages,  |
|in scenes hereafter to be painted.      |
|Stubb's whale had been killed some      |
|distance from the ship. It was a calm;  |
|so, forming a tandem of three boats, we |
|commenced the slow business of towing   |
|the trophy to the Pequod. And now, as we|
|eighteen men with our thirty-six arms,  |
|and one hundred and eighty thumbs and   |
|fingers, slowly toiled hour after hour  |
|upon that inert, sluggish corpse in     |
|the sea; and it seemed hardly to budge  |
|at all, except at long intervals; good  |
|evidence was hereby furnished of the    |
|enormousness of the mass we moved. For, |
|upon the great canal of Hang-Ho, or     |
|whatever they call it, in China, four or|
|five laborers on the foot-path will draw|
|a bulky freighted junk at the rate of a |
|mile an hour; but this grand argosy we  |
|towed heavily forged along, as if laden |
|with pig-lead in bulk. Darkness came    |
|on; but three lights up and down in the |
|Pequod's main-rigging dimly guided our  |
|way; till drawing nearer we saw Ahab    |
|dropping one of several more lanterns   |
|over the bulwarks. Vacantly eyeing the  |
|heaving whale for a moment, he issued   |
|the usual orders for securing it for    |
|the night, and then handing his lantern |
|to a seaman, went his way into the      |
|cabin, and did not come forward again   |
|until morning. Though, in overseeing    |
|the pursuit of this whale, Captain Ahab |
|had evinced his customary activity, to  |
|call it so; yet now that the creature   |
|was dead, some vague dissatisfaction, or|
|impatience, or despair, seemed working  |
|in him; as if the sight of that dead    |
|body reminded him that Moby Dick was    |
|yet to be slain; and though a thousand  |
|other whales were brought to his ship,  |
|all that would not one jot advance his  |
|grand, monomaniac object. Very soon you |
|would have thought from the sound on    |
|the Pequod's decks, that all hands were |
|preparing to cast anchor in the deep;   |
|for heavy chains are being dragged along|
|the deck, and thrust rattling out of    |
|the port-holes. But by those clanking   |
|links, the vast corpse itself, not the  |
|ship, is to be moored. Tied by the      |
|head to the stern, and by the tail to   |
|the bows, the whale now lies with its   |
|black hull close to the vessel's and    |
|seen through the darkness of the night, |
|which obscured the spars and rigging    |
|aloft, the two--ship and whale, seemed  |
|yoked together like colossal bullocks,  |
|whereof one reclines while the other    |
|remains standing. A little item may as  |
|well be related here. The strongest and |
|most reliable hold which the ship has   |
|upon the whale when moored alongside, is|
|by the flukes or tail; and as from its  |
|greater density that part is relatively |
|heavier than any other (excepting the   |
|side-fins), its flexibility even in     |
|death, causes it to sink low beneath    |
|the surface; so that with the hand you  |
|cannot get at it from the boat, in order|
|to put the chain round it. But this     |
|difficulty is ingeniously overcome: a   |
|small, strong line is prepared with a   |
|wooden float at its outer end, and a    |
|weight in its middle, while the other   |
|end is secured to the ship. By adroit   |
|management the wooden float is made to  |
|rise on the other side of the mass, so  |
|that now having girdled the whale, the  |
|chain is readily made to follow suit;   |
|and being slipped along the body, is    |
|at last locked fast round the smallest  |
|part of the tail, at the point of       |
|junction with its broad flukes or lobes.|
|If moody Ahab was now all quiescence,   |
|at least so far as could be known on    |
|deck, Stubb, his second mate, flushed   |
|with conquest, betrayed an unusual but  |
|still good-natured excitement. Such     |
|an unwonted bustle was he in that the   |
|staid Starbuck, his official superior,  |
|quietly resigned to him for the time the|
|sole management of affairs. One small,  |
|helping cause of all this liveliness in |
|Stubb, was soon made strangely manifest.|
|Stubb was a high liver; he was somewhat |
|intemperately fond of the whale as a    |
|flavorish thing to his palate. "A steak,|
|a steak, ere I sleep! You, Daggoo!      |
|overboard you go, and cut me one from   |
|his small!" Here be it known, that      |
|though these wild fishermen do not, as  |
|a general thing, and according to the   |
|great military maxim, make the enemy    |
|defray the current expenses of the war  |
|(at least before realizing the proceeds |
|of the voyage), yet now and then you    |
|find some of these Nantucketers who have|
|a genuine relish for that particular    |
|part of the Sperm Whale designated by   |
|Stubb; comprising the tapering extremity|
|of the body. About midnight that steak  |
|was cut and cooked; and lighted by two  |
|lanterns of sperm oil, Stubb stoutly    |
|stood up to his spermaceti supper at    |
|the capstan-head, as if that capstan    |
|were a sideboard. Nor was Stubb the     |
|only banqueter on whale's flesh that    |
|night. Mingling their mumblings with    |
|his own mastications, thousands on      |
|thousands of sharks, swarming round the |
|dead leviathan, smackingly feasted on   |
|its fatness. The few sleepers below in  |
|their bunks were often startled by the  |
|sharp slapping of their tails against   |
|the hull, within a few inches of the    |
|sleepers' hearts. Peering over the side |
|you could just see them (as before you  |
|heard them) wallowing in the sullen,    |
|black waters, and turning over on their |
|backs as they scooped out huge globular |
|pieces of the whale of the bigness of   |
|a human head. This particular feat of   |
|the shark seems all but miraculous.     |
|How at such an apparently unassailable  |
|surface, they contrive to gouge out such|
|symmetrical mouthfuls, remains a part of|
|the universal problem of all things. The|
|mark they thus leave on the whale, may  |
|best be likened to the hollow made by a |
|carpenter in countersinking for a screw.|
|Though amid all the smoking horror and  |
|diabolism of a sea-fight, sharks will be|
|seen longingly gazing up to the ship's  |
|decks, like hungry dogs round a table   |
|where red meat is being carved, ready   |
|to bolt down every killed man that is   |
|tossed to them; and though, while the   |
|valiant butchers over the deck-table    |
|are thus cannibally carving each        |
|other's live meat with carving-knives   |
|all gilded and tasselled, the sharks,   |
|also, with their jewel-hilted mouths,   |
|are quarrelsomely carving away under    |
|the table at the dead meat; and though, |
|were you to turn the whole affair       |
|upside down, it would still be pretty   |
|much the same thing, that is to say,    |
|a shocking sharkish business enough     |
|for all parties; and though sharks      |
|also are the invariable outriders of    |
|all slave ships crossing the Atlantic,  |
|systematically trotting alongside, to   |
|be handy in case a parcel is to be      |
|carried anywhere, or a dead slave to be |
|decently buried; and though one or two  |
|other like instances might be set down, |
|touching the set terms, places, and     |
|occasions, when sharks do most socially |
|congregate, and most hilariously feast; |
|yet is there no conceivable time or     |
|occasion when you will find them in     |
|such countless numbers, and in gayer    |
|or more jovial spirits, than around a   |
|dead sperm whale, moored by night to a  |
|whaleship at sea. If you have never seen|
|that sight, then suspend your decision  |
|about the propriety of devil-worship,   |
|and the expediency of conciliating the  |
|devil. But, as yet, Stubb heeded not    |
|the mumblings of the banquet that was   |
|going on so nigh him, no more than the  |
|sharks heeded the smacking of his own   |
|epicurean lips. "Cook, cook!--where's   |
|that old Fleece?" he cried at length,   |
|widening his legs still further, as     |
|if to form a more secure base for his   |
|supper; and, at the same time darting   |
|his fork into the dish, as if stabbing  |
|with his lance; "cook, you cook!--sail  |
|this way, cook!" The old black, not     |
|in any very high glee at having been    |
|previously roused from his warm         |
|hammock at a most unseasonable hour,    |
|came shambling along from his galley,   |
|for, like many old blacks, there was    |
|something the matter with his knee-pans,|
|which he did not keep well scoured like |
|his other pans; this old Fleece, as they|
|called him, came shuffling and limping  |
|along, assisting his step with his      |
|tongs, which, after a clumsy fashion,   |
|were made of straightened iron hoops;   |
|this old Ebony floundered along, and in |
|obedience to the word of command, came  |
|to a dead stop on the opposite side of  |
|Stubb's sideboard; when, with both hands|
|folded before him, and resting on his   |
|two-legged cane, he bowed his arched    |
|back still further over, at the same    |
|time sideways inclining his head, so as |
|to bring his best ear into play. "Cook,"|
|said Stubb, rapidly lifting a rather    |
|reddish morsel to his mouth, "don't you |
|think this steak is rather overdone?    |
|You've been beating this steak too much,|
|cook; it's too tender. Don't I always   |
|say that to be good, a whale-steak must |
|be tough? There are those sharks now    |
|over the side, don't you see they prefer|
|it tough and rare? What a shindy they   |
|are kicking up! Cook, go and talk to    |
|'em; tell 'em they are welcome to help  |
|themselves civilly, and in moderation,  |
|but they must keep quiet. Blast me, if  |
|I can hear my own voice. Away, cook,    |
|and deliver my message. Here, take      |
|this lantern," snatching one from his   |
|sideboard; "now then, go and preach     |
|to 'em!" Sullenly taking the offered    |
|lantern, old Fleece limped across the   |
|deck to the bulwarks; and then, with    |
|one hand dropping his light low over    |
|the sea, so as to get a good view of    |
|his congregation, with the other hand   |
|he solemnly flourished his tongs, and   |
|leaning far over the side in a mumbling |
|voice began addressing the sharks, while|
|Stubb, softly crawling behind, overheard|
|all that was said. "Fellow-critters:    |
|I'se ordered here to say dat you must   |
|stop dat dam noise dare. You hear? Stop |
|dat dam smackin' ob de lips! Massa      |
|Stubb say dat you can fill your dam     |
|bellies up to de hatchings, but by Gor! |
|you must stop dat dam racket!" "Cook,"  |
|here interposed Stubb, accompanying     |
|the word with a sudden slap on the      |
|shoulder,--"Cook! why, damn your eyes,  |
|you mustn't swear that way when you're  |
|preaching. That's no way to convert     |
|sinners, cook!" "Who dat? Den preach to |
|him yourself," sullenly turning to go.  |
|"No, cook; go on, go on." "Well, den,   |
|Belubed fellow-critters:"- "Right!"     |
|exclaimed Stubb, approvingly, "coax     |
|'em to it; try that," and Fleece        |
|continued. "Do you is all sharks,       |
|and by natur wery woracious, yet I      |
|zay to you, fellow-critters, dat dat    |
|woraciousness--'top dat dam slappin' ob |
|de tail! How you tink to hear, spose you|
|keep up such a dam slappin' and bitin'  |
|dare?" "Cook," cried Stubb, collaring   |
|him, "I won't have that swearing. Talk  |
|to 'em gentlemanly." Once more the      |
|sermon proceeded. "Your woraciousness,  |
|fellow-critters, I don't blame ye so    |
|much for; dat is natur, and can't be    |
|helped; but to gobern dat wicked natur, |
|dat is de pint. You is sharks, sartin;  |
|but if you gobern de shark in you, why  |
|den you be angel; for all angel is      |
|not'ing more dan de shark well goberned.|
|Now, look here, bred'ren, just try wonst|
|to be cibil, a helping yourselbs from   |
|dat whale. Don't be tearin' de blubber  |
|out your neighbour's mout, I say. Is not|
|one shark dood right as toder to dat    |
|whale? And, by Gor, none on you has de  |
|right to dat whale; dat whale belong to |
|some one else. I know some o' you has   |
|berry brig mout, brigger dan oders; but |
|den de brig mouts sometimes has de small|
|bellies; so dat de brigness of de mout  |
|is not to swaller wid, but to bit off   |
|de blubber for de small fry ob sharks,  |
|dat can't get into de scrouge to help   |
|demselves." "Well done, old Fleece!"    |
|cried Stubb, "that's Christianity; go   |
|on." "No use goin' on; de dam willains  |
|will keep a scougin' and slappin' each  |
|oder, Massa Stubb; dey don't hear one   |
|word; no use a-preaching to such dam    |
|g'uttons as you call 'em, till dare     |
|bellies is full, and dare bellies is    |
|bottomless; and when dey do get 'em     |
|full, dey wont hear you den; for den dey|
|sink in the sea, go fast to sleep on de |
|coral, and can't hear noting at all,    |
|no more, for eber and eber." "Upon my   |
|soul, I am about of the same opinion; so|
|give the benediction, Fleece, and I'll  |
|away to my supper." Upon this, Fleece,  |
|holding both hands over the fishy mob,  |
|raised his shrill voice, and cried--    |
|"Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up de     |
|damndest row as ever you can; fill your |
|dam bellies 'till dey bust--and den     |
|die." "Now, cook," said Stubb, resuming |
|his supper at the capstan; "stand       |
|just where you stood before, there,     |
|over against me, and pay particular     |
|attention." "All 'dention," said Fleece,|
|again stooping over upon his tongs in   |
|the desired position. "Well," said      |
|Stubb, helping himself freely meanwhile;|
|"I shall now go back to the subject of  |
|this steak. In the first place, how old |
|are you, cook?" "What dat do wid de     |
|'teak," said the old black, testily.    |
|"Silence! How old are you, cook?" "'Bout|
|ninety, dey say," he gloomily muttered. |
|"And you have lived in this world hard  |
|upon one hundred years, cook, and don't |
|know yet how to cook a whale-steak?"    |
|rapidly bolting another mouthful at     |
|the last word, so that morsel seemed a  |
|continuation of the question. "Where    |
|were you born, cook?" "'Hind de         |
|hatchway, in ferry-boat, goin' ober de  |
|Roanoke." "Born in a ferry-boat! That's |
|queer, too. But I want to know what     |
|country you were born in, cook!" "Didn't|
|I say de Roanoke country?" he cried     |
|sharply. "No, you didn't, cook; but I'll|
|tell you what I'm coming to, cook. You  |
|must go home and be born over again; you|
|don't know how to cook a whale-steak    |
|yet." "Bress my soul, if I cook noder   |
|one," he growled, angrily, turning round|
|to depart. "Come back here, cook;--here,|
|hand me those tongs;--now take that bit |
|of steak there, and tell me if you think|
|that steak cooked as it should be? Take |
|it, I say"--holding the tongs towards   |
|him--"take it, and taste it." Faintly   |
|smacking his withered lips over it for  |
|a moment, the old negro muttered, "Best |
|cooked 'teak I eber taste; joosy, berry |
|joosy." "Cook," said Stubb, squaring    |
|himself once more; "do you belong to the|
|church?" "Passed one once in Cape-Down,"|
|said the old man sullenly. "And you     |
|have once in your life passed a holy    |
|church in Cape-Town, where you doubtless|
|overheard a holy parson addressing his  |
|hearers as his beloved fellow-creatures,|
|have you, cook! And yet you come here,  |
|and tell me such a dreadful lie as you  |
|did just now, eh?" said Stubb. "Where do|
|you expect to go to, cook?" "Go to bed  |
|berry soon," he mumbled, half-turning as|
|he spoke. "Avast! heave to! I mean when |
|you die, cook. It's an awful question.  |
|Now what's your answer?" "When dis old  |
|brack man dies," said the negro slowly, |
|changing his whole air and demeanor,    |
|"he hisself won't go nowhere; but some  |
|bressed angel will come and fetch him." |
|"Fetch him? How? In a coach and four,   |
|as they fetched Elijah? And fetch him   |
|where?" "Up dere," said Fleece, holding |
|his tongs straight over his head, and   |
|keeping it there very solemnly. "So,    |
|then, you expect to go up into our      |
|main-top, do you, cook, when you are    |
|dead? But don't you know the higher you |
|climb, the colder it gets? Main-top,    |
|eh?" "Didn't say dat t'all," said       |
|Fleece, again in the sulks. "You said   |
|up there, didn't you? and now look      |
|yourself, and see where your tongs are  |
|pointing. But, perhaps you expect to    |
|get into heaven by crawling through the |
|lubber's hole, cook; but, no, no, cook, |
|you don't get there, except you go the  |
|regular way, round by the rigging. It's |
|a ticklish business, but must be done,  |
|or else it's no go. But none of us are  |
|in heaven yet. Drop your tongs, cook,   |
|and hear my orders. Do ye hear? Hold    |
|your hat in one hand, and clap t'other  |
|a'top of your heart, when I'm giving my |
|orders, cook. What! that your heart,    |
|there?--that's your gizzard! Aloft!     |
|aloft!--that's it--now you have it. Hold|
|it there now, and pay attention." "All  |
|'dention," said the old black, with     |
|both hands placed as desired, vainly    |
|wriggling his grizzled head, as if to   |
|get both ears in front at one and the   |
|same time. "Well then, cook, you see    |
|this whale-steak of yours was so very   |
|bad, that I have put it out of sight as |
|soon as possible; you see that, don't   |
|you? Well, for the future, when you cook|
|another whale-steak for my private table|
|here, the capstan, I'll tell you what to|
|do so as not to spoil it by overdoing.  |
|Hold the steak in one hand, and show a  |
|live coal to it with the other; that    |
|done, dish it; d'ye hear? And now       |
|to-morrow, cook, when we are cutting in |
|the fish, be sure you stand by to get   |
|the tips of his fins; have them put in  |
|pickle. As for the ends of the flukes,  |
|have them soused, cook. There, now ye   |
|may go." But Fleece had hardly got three|
|paces off, when he was recalled. "Cook, |
|give me cutlets for supper to-morrow    |
|night in the mid-watch. D'ye hear? away |
|you sail, then.--Halloa! stop! make     |
|a bow before you go.--Avast heaving     |
|again! Whale-balls for breakfast--don't |
|forget." "Wish, by gor! whale eat him,  |
|'stead of him eat whale. I'm bressed if |
|he ain't more of shark dan Massa Shark  |
|hisself," muttered the old man, limping |
|away; with which sage ejaculation he    |
|went to his hammock. That mortal man    |
|should feed upon the creature that      |
|feeds his lamp, and, like Stubb, eat    |
|him by his own light, as you may say;   |
|this seems so outlandish a thing that   |
|one must needs go a little into the     |
|history and philosophy of it. It is     |
|upon record, that three centuries ago   |
|the tongue of the Right Whale was       |
|esteemed a great delicacy in France,    |
|and commanded large prices there. Also, |
|that in Henry VIIIth's time, a certain  |
|cook of the court obtained a handsome   |
|reward for inventing an admirable sauce |
|to be eaten with barbacued porpoises,   |
|which, you remember, are a species      |
|of whale. Porpoises, indeed, are to     |
|this day considered fine eating. The    |
|meat is made into balls about the size  |
|of billiard balls, and being well       |
|seasoned and spiced might be taken for  |
|turtle-balls or veal balls. The old     |
|monks of Dunfermline were very fond of  |
|them. They had a great porpoise grant   |
|from the crown. The fact is, that among |
|his hunters at least, the whale would by|
|all hands be considered a noble dish,   |
|were there not so much of him; but when |
|you come to sit down before a meat-pie  |
|nearly one hundred feet long, it takes  |
|away your appetite. Only the most       |
|unprejudiced of men like Stubb, nowadays|
|partake of cooked whales; but the       |
|Esquimaux are not so fastidious. We all |
|know how they live upon whales, and have|
|rare old vintages of prime old train    |
|oil. Zogranda, one of their most famous |
|doctors, recommends strips of blubber   |
|for infants, as being exceedingly juicy |
|and nourishing. And this reminds me that|
|certain Englishmen, who long ago were   |
|accidentally left in Greenland by a     |
|whaling vessel--that these men actually |
|lived for several months on the mouldy  |
|scraps of whales which had been left    |
|ashore after trying out the blubber.    |
|Among the Dutch whalemen these scraps   |
|are called "fritters"; which, indeed,   |
|they greatly resemble, being brown and  |
|crisp, and smelling something like old  |
|Amsterdam housewives' dough-nuts or     |
|oly-cooks, when fresh. They have such an|
|eatable look that the most self-denying |
|stranger can hardly keep his hands off. |
|But what further depreciates the whale  |
|as a civilized dish, is his exceeding   |
|richness. He is the great prize ox      |
|of the sea, too fat to be delicately    |
|good. Look at his hump, which would     |
|be as fine eating as the buffalo's      |
|(which is esteemed a rare dish), were   |
|it not such a solid pyramid of fat. But |
|the spermaceti itself, how bland and    |
|creamy that is; like the transparent,   |
|half-jellied, white meat of a cocoanut  |
|in the third month of its growth, yet   |
|far too rich to supply a substitute for |
|butter. Nevertheless, many whalemen     |
|have a method of absorbing it into some |
|other substance, and then partaking of  |
|it. In the long try watches of the night|
|it is a common thing for the seamen to  |
|dip their ship-biscuit into the huge    |
|oil-pots and let them fry there awhile. |
|Many a good supper have I thus made.    |
|In the case of a small Sperm Whale the  |
|brains are accounted a fine dish. The   |
|casket of the skull is broken into with |
|an axe, and the two plump, whitish lobes|
|being withdrawn (precisely resembling   |
|two large puddings), they are then mixed|
|with flour, and cooked into a most      |
|delectable mess, in flavor somewhat     |
|resembling calves' head, which is quite |
|a dish among some epicures; and every   |
|one knows that some young bucks among   |
|the epicures, by continually dining upon|
|calves' brains, by and by get to have   |
|a little brains of their own, so as     |
|to be able to tell a calf's head from   |
|their own heads; which, indeed, requires|
|uncommon discrimination. And that is    |
|the reason why a young buck with an     |
|intelligent looking calf's head before  |
|him, is somehow one of the saddest      |
|sights you can see. The head looks a    |
|sort of reproachfully at him, with an   |
|"Et tu Brute!" expression. It is not,   |
|perhaps, entirely because the whale is  |
|so excessively unctuous that landsmen   |
|seem to regard the eating of him with   |
|abhorrence; that appears to result, in  |
|some way, from the consideration before |
|mentioned: i.e. that a man should eat a |
|newly murdered thing of the sea, and eat|
|it too by its own light. But no doubt   |
|the first man that ever murdered an ox  |
|was regarded as a murderer; perhaps he  |
|was hung; and if he had been put on his |
|trial by oxen, he certainly would have  |
|been; and he certainly deserved it if   |
|any murderer does. Go to the meat-market|
|of a Saturday night and see the crowds  |
|of live bipeds staring up at the long   |
|rows of dead quadrupeds. Does not that  |
|sight take a tooth out of the cannibal's|
|jaw? Cannibals? who is not a cannibal?  |
|I tell you it will be more tolerable    |
|for the Fejee that salted down a lean   |
|missionary in his cellar against a      |
|coming famine; it will be more tolerable|
|for that provident Fejee, I say, in     |
|the day of judgment, than for thee,     |
|civilized and enlightened gourmand,     |
|who nailest geese to the ground and     |
|feastest on their bloated livers in thy |
|pate-de-foie-gras. But Stubb, he eats   |
|the whale by its own light, does he?    |
|and that is adding insult to injury, is |
|it? Look at your knife-handle, there,   |
|my civilized and enlightened gourmand   |
|dining off that roast beef, what is     |
|that handle made of?--what but the      |
|bones of the brother of the very ox you |
|are eating? And what do you pick your   |
|teeth with, after devouring that fat    |
|goose? With a feather of the same fowl. |
|And with what quill did the Secretary   |
|of the Society for the Suppression of   |
|Cruelty to Ganders formally indite his  |
|circulars? It is only within the last   |
|month or two that that society passed   |
|a resolution to patronise nothing       |
|but steel pens. When in the Southern    |
|Fishery, a captured Sperm Whale,        |
|after long and weary toil, is brought   |
|alongside late at night, it is not, as  |
|a general thing at least, customary     |
|to proceed at once to the business of   |
|cutting him in. For that business is an |
|exceedingly laborious one; is not very  |
|soon completed; and requires all hands  |
|to set about it. Therefore, the common  |
|usage is to take in all sail; lash the  |
|helm a'lee; and then send every one     |
|below to his hammock till daylight, with|
|the reservation that, until that time,  |
|anchor-watches shall be kept; that is,  |
|two and two for an hour, each couple,   |
|the crew in rotation shall mount the    |
|deck to see that all goes well. But     |
|sometimes, especially upon the Line in  |
|the Pacific, this plan will not answer  |
|at all; because such incalculable hosts |
|of sharks gather round the moored       |
|carcase, that were he left so for six   |
|hours, say, on a stretch, little more   |
|than the skeleton would be visible by   |
|morning. In most other parts of the     |
|ocean, however, where these fish do     |
|not so largely abound, their wondrous   |
|voracity can be at times considerably   |
|diminished, by vigorously stirring      |
|them up with sharp whaling-spades, a    |
|procedure notwithstanding, which, in    |
|some instances, only seems to tickle    |
|them into still greater activity. But it|
|was not thus in the present case with   |
|the Pequod's sharks; though, to be sure,|
|any man unaccustomed to such sights, to |
|have looked over her side that night,   |
|would have almost thought the whole     |
|round sea was one huge cheese, and those|
|sharks the maggots in it. Nevertheless, |
|upon Stubb setting the anchor-watch     |
|after his supper was concluded; and     |
|when, accordingly, Queequeg and a       |
|forecastle seaman came on deck, no small|
|excitement was created among the sharks;|
|for immediately suspending the cutting  |
|stages over the side, and lowering      |
|three lanterns, so that they cast long  |
|gleams of light over the turbid sea,    |
|these two mariners, darting their long  |
|whaling-spades, kept up an incessant    |
|murdering of the sharks,* by striking   |
|the keen steel deep into their skulls,  |
|seemingly their only vital part. But    |
|in the foamy confusion of their mixed   |
|and struggling hosts, the marksmen      |
|could not always hit their mark; and    |
|this brought about new revelations of   |
|the incredible ferocity of the foe.     |
|They viciously snapped, not only at     |
|each other's disembowelments, but like  |
|flexible bows, bent round, and bit      |
|their own; till those entrails seemed   |
|swallowed over and over again by the    |
|same mouth, to be oppositely voided by  |
|the gaping wound. Nor was this all. It  |
|was unsafe to meddle with the corpses   |
|and ghosts of these creatures. A sort   |
|of generic or Pantheistic vitality      |
|seemed to lurk in their very joints and |
|bones, after what might be called the   |
|individual life had departed. Killed    |
|and hoisted on deck for the sake of     |
|his skin, one of these sharks almost    |
|took poor Queequeg's hand off, when     |
|he tried to shut down the dead lid of   |
|his murderous jaw. The whaling-spade    |
|used for cutting-in is made of the      |
|very best steel; is about the bigness   |
|of a man's spread hand; and in general  |
|shape, corresponds to the garden        |
|implement after which it is named; only |
|its sides are perfectly flat, and its   |
|upper end considerably narrower than    |
|the lower. This weapon is always kept   |
|as sharp as possible; and when being    |
|used is occasionally honed, just like   |
|a razor. In its socket, a stiff pole,   |
|from twenty to thirty feet long, is     |
|inserted for a handle. "Queequeg no     |
|care what god made him shark," said     |
|the savage, agonizingly lifting his     |
|hand up and down; "wedder Fejee god     |
|or Nantucket god; but de god wat made   |
|shark must be one dam Ingin." It was    |
|a Saturday night, and such a Sabbath    |
|as followed! Ex officio professors of   |
|Sabbath breaking are all whalemen. The  |
|ivory Pequod was turned into what seemed|
|a shamble; every sailor a butcher. You  |
|would have thought we were offering     |
|up ten thousand red oxen to the sea     |
|gods. In the first place, the enormous  |
|cutting tackles, among other ponderous  |
|things comprising a cluster of blocks   |
|generally painted green, and which no   |
|single man can possibly lift--this vast |
|bunch of grapes was swayed up to the    |
|main-top and firmly lashed to the lower |
|mast-head, the strongest point anywhere |
|above a ship's deck. The end of the     |
|hawser-like rope winding through these  |
|intricacies, was then conducted to the  |
|windlass, and the huge lower block of   |
|the tackles was swung over the whale;   |
|to this block the great blubber hook,   |
|weighing some one hundred pounds, was   |
|attached. And now suspended in stages   |
|over the side, Starbuck and Stubb, the  |
|mates, armed with their long spades,    |
|began cutting a hole in the body for    |
|the insertion of the hook just above    |
|the nearest of the two side-fins. This  |
|done, a broad, semicircular line is cut |
|round the hole, the hook is inserted,   |
|and the main body of the crew striking  |
|up a wild chorus, now commence heaving  |
|in one dense crowd at the windlass. When|
|instantly, the entire ship careens over |
|on her side; every bolt in her starts   |
|like the nail-heads of an old house in  |
|frosty weather; she trembles, quivers,  |
|and nods her frighted mast-heads to     |
|the sky. More and more she leans over   |
|to the whale, while every gasping       |
|heave of the windlass is answered by a  |
|helping heave from the billows; till    |
|at last, a swift, startling snap is     |
|heard; with a great swash the ship rolls|
|upwards and backwards from the whale,   |
|and the triumphant tackle rises into    |
|sight dragging after it the disengaged  |
|semicircular end of the first strip of  |
|blubber. Now as the blubber envelopes   |
|the whale precisely as the rind does    |
|an orange, so is it stripped off from   |
|the body precisely as an orange is      |
|sometimes stripped by spiralizing it.   |
|For the strain constantly kept up by    |
|the windlass continually keeps the      |
|whale rolling over and over in the      |
|water, and as the blubber in one strip  |
|uniformly peels off along the line      |
|called the "scarf," simultaneously cut  |
|by the spades of Starbuck and Stubb,    |
|the mates; and just as fast as it is    |
|thus peeled off, and indeed by that very|
|act itself, it is all the time being    |
|hoisted higher and higher aloft till    |
|its upper end grazes the main-top; the  |
|men at the windlass then cease heaving, |
|and for a moment or two the prodigious  |
|blood-dripping mass sways to and fro as |
|if let down from the sky, and every one |
|present must take good heed to dodge it |
|when it swings, else it may box his ears|
|and pitch him headlong overboard. One of|
|the attending harpooneers now advances  |
|with a long, keen weapon called a       |
|boarding-sword, and watching his chance |
|he dexterously slices out a considerable|
|hole in the lower part of the swaying   |
|mass. Into this hole, the end of the    |
|second alternating great tackle is then |
|hooked so as to retain a hold upon the  |
|blubber, in order to prepare for what   |
|follows. Whereupon, this accomplished   |
|swordsman, warning all hands to stand   |
|off, once more makes a scientific dash  |
|at the mass, and with a few sidelong,   |
|desperate, lunging slicings, severs it  |
|completely in twain; so that while the  |
|short lower part is still fast, the long|
|upper strip, called a blanket-piece,    |
|swings clear, and is all ready for      |
|lowering. The heavers forward now resume|
|their song, and while the one tackle    |
|is peeling and hoisting a second strip  |
|from the whale, the other is slowly     |
|slackened away, and down goes the first |
|strip through the main hatchway right   |
|beneath, into an unfurnished parlor     |
|called the blubber-room. Into this      |
|twilight apartment sundry nimble hands  |
|keep coiling away the long blanket-piece|
|as if it were a great live mass of      |
|plaited serpents. And thus the work     |
|proceeds; the two tackles hoisting and  |
|lowering simultaneously; both whale and |
|windlass heaving, the heavers singing,  |
|the blubber-room gentlemen coiling, the |
|mates scarfing, the ship straining, and |
|all hands swearing occasionally, by way |
|of assuaging the general friction. I    |
|have given no small attention to that   |
|not unvexed subject, the skin of the    |
|whale. I have had controversies about   |
|it with experienced whalemen afloat,    |
|and learned naturalists ashore. My      |
|original opinion remains unchanged; but |
|it is only an opinion. The question     |
|is, what and where is the skin of the   |
|whale? Already you know what his blubber|
|is. That blubber is something of the    |
|consistence of firm, close-grained beef,|
|but tougher, more elastic and compact,  |
|and ranges from eight or ten to twelve  |
|and fifteen inches in thickness. Now,   |
|however preposterous it may at first    |
|seem to talk of any creature's skin     |
|as being of that sort of consistence    |
|and thickness, yet in point of fact     |
|these are no arguments against such a   |
|presumption; because you cannot raise   |
|any other dense enveloping layer from   |
|the whale's body but that same blubber; |
|and the outermost enveloping layer of   |
|any animal, if reasonably dense, what   |
|can that be but the skin? True, from    |
|the unmarred dead body of the whale,    |
|you may scrape off with your hand an    |
|infinitely thin, transparent substance, |
|somewhat resembling the thinnest shreds |
|of isinglass, only it is almost as      |
|flexible and soft as satin; that is,    |
|previous to being dried, when it not    |
|only contracts and thickens, but becomes|
|rather hard and brittle. I have several |
|such dried bits, which I use for marks  |
|in my whale-books. It is transparent,   |
|as I said before; and being laid upon   |
|the printed page, I have sometimes      |
|pleased myself with fancying it exerted |
|a magnifying influence. At any rate,    |
|it is pleasant to read about whales     |
|through their own spectacles, as you    |
|may say. But what I am driving at here  |
|is this. That same infinitely thin,     |
|isinglass substance, which, I admit,    |
|invests the entire body of the whale,   |
|is not so much to be regarded as the    |
|skin of the creature, as the skin of the|
|skin, so to speak; for it were simply   |
|ridiculous to say, that the proper skin |
|of the tremendous whale is thinner and  |
|more tender than the skin of a new-born |
|child. But no more of this. Assuming    |
|the blubber to be the skin of the       |
|whale; then, when this skin, as in the  |
|case of a very large Sperm Whale, will  |
|yield the bulk of one hundred barrels   |
|of oil; and, when it is considered      |
|that, in quantity, or rather weight,    |
|that oil, in its expressed state, is    |
|only three fourths, and not the entire  |
|substance of the coat; some idea may    |
|hence be had of the enormousness of that|
|animated mass, a mere part of whose     |
|mere integument yields such a lake of   |
|liquid as that. Reckoning ten barrels   |
|to the ton, you have ten tons for the   |
|net weight of only three quarters of the|
|stuff of the whale's skin. In life, the |
|visible surface of the Sperm Whale is   |
|not the least among the many marvels he |
|presents. Almost invariably it is all   |
|over obliquely crossed and re-crossed   |
|with numberless straight marks in thick |
|array, something like those in the      |
|finest Italian line engravings. But     |
|these marks do not seem to be impressed |
|upon the isinglass substance above      |
|mentioned, but seem to be seen through  |
|it, as if they were engraved upon the   |
|body itself. Nor is this all. In some   |
|instances, to the quick, observant eye, |
|those linear marks, as in a veritable   |
|engraving, but afford the ground for    |
|far other delineations. These are       |
|hieroglyphical; that is, if you call    |
|those mysterious cyphers on the walls   |
|of pyramids hieroglyphics, then that is |
|the proper word to use in the present   |
|connexion. By my retentive memory of    |
|the hieroglyphics upon one Sperm Whale  |
|in particular, I was much struck with   |
|a plate representing the old Indian     |
|characters chiselled on the famous      |
|hieroglyphic palisades on the banks     |
|of the Upper Mississippi. Like those    |
|mystic rocks, too, the mystic-marked    |
|whale remains undecipherable. This      |
|allusion to the Indian rocks reminds    |
|me of another thing. Besides all the    |
|other phenomena which the exterior of   |
|the Sperm Whale presents, he not seldom |
|displays the back, and more especially  |
|his flanks, effaced in great part of the|
|regular linear appearance, by reason of |
|numerous rude scratches, altogether of  |
|an irregular, random aspect. I should   |
|say that those New England rocks on     |
|the sea-coast, which Agassiz imagines   |
|to bear the marks of violent scraping   |
|contact with vast floating icebergs--I  |
|should say, that those rocks must not   |
|a little resemble the Sperm Whale in    |
|this particular. It also seems to me    |
|that such scratches in the whale are    |
|probably made by hostile contact with   |
|other whales; for I have most remarked  |
|them in the large, full-grown bulls     |
|of the species. A word or two more      |
|concerning this matter of the skin or   |
|blubber of the whale. It has already    |
|been said, that it is stript from him   |
|in long pieces, called blanket-pieces.  |
|Like most sea-terms, this one is very   |
|happy and significant. For the whale is |
|indeed wrapt up in his blubber as in a  |
|real blanket or counterpane; or, still  |
|better, an Indian poncho slipt over his |
|head, and skirting his extremity. It    |
|is by reason of this cosy blanketing    |
|of his body, that the whale is enabled  |
|to keep himself comfortable in all      |
|weathers, in all seas, times, and tides.|
|What would become of a Greenland whale, |
|say, in those shuddering, icy seas of   |
|the North, if unsupplied with his cosy  |
|surtout? True, other fish are found     |
|exceedingly brisk in those Hyperborean  |
|waters; but these, be it observed,      |
|are your cold-blooded, lungless fish,   |
|whose very bellies are refrigerators;   |
|creatures, that warm themselves under   |
|the lee of an iceberg, as a traveller   |
|in winter would bask before an inn      |
|fire; whereas, like man, the whale      |
|has lungs and warm blood. Freeze his    |
|blood, and he dies. How wonderful is it |
|then--except after explanation--that    |
|this great monster, to whom corporeal   |
|warmth is as indispensable as it is to  |
|man; how wonderful that he should be    |
|found at home, immersed to his lips for |
|life in those Arctic waters! where,     |
|when seamen fall overboard, they are    |
|sometimes found, months afterwards,     |
|perpendicularly frozen into the hearts  |
|of fields of ice, as a fly is found     |
|glued in amber. But more surprising     |
|is it to know, as has been proved by    |
|experiment, that the blood of a Polar   |
|whale is warmer than that of a Borneo   |
|negro in summer. It does seem to me,    |
|that herein we see the rare virtue of   |
|a strong individual vitality, and the   |
|rare virtue of thick walls, and the     |
|rare virtue of interior spaciousness.   |
|Oh, man! admire and model thyself       |
|after the whale! Do thou, too, remain   |
|warm among ice. Do thou, too, live in   |
|this world without being of it. Be      |
|cool at the equator; keep thy blood     |
|fluid at the Pole. Like the great dome  |
|of St. Peter's, and like the great      |
|whale, retain, O man! in all seasons    |
|a temperature of thine own. But how     |
|easy and how hopeless to teach these    |
|fine things! Of erections, how few are  |
|domed like St. Peter's! of creatures,   |
|how few vast as the whale! Haul in the  |
|chains! Let the carcase go astern! The  |
|vast tackles have now done their duty.  |
|The peeled white body of the beheaded   |
|whale flashes like a marble sepulchre;  |
|though changed in hue, it has not       |
|perceptibly lost anything in bulk. It is|
|still colossal. Slowly it floats more   |
|and more away, the water round it torn  |
|and splashed by the insatiate sharks,   |
|and the air above vexed with rapacious  |
|flights of screaming fowls, whose beaks |
|are like so many insulting poniards     |
|in the whale. The vast white headless   |
|phantom floats further and further      |
|from the ship, and every rod that it    |
|so floats, what seem square roods of    |
|sharks and cubic roods of fowls, augment|
|the murderous din. For hours and hours  |
|from the almost stationary ship that    |
|hideous sight is seen. Beneath the      |
|unclouded and mild azure sky, upon the  |
|fair face of the pleasant sea, wafted   |
|by the joyous breezes, that great mass  |
|of death floats on and on, till lost in |
|infinite perspectives. There's a most   |
|doleful and most mocking funeral! The   |
|sea-vultures all in pious mourning, the |
|air-sharks all punctiliously in black   |
|or speckled. In life but few of them    |
|would have helped the whale, I ween,    |
|if peradventure he had needed it; but   |
|upon the banquet of his funeral they    |
|most piously do pounce. Oh, horrible    |
|vultureism of earth! from which not     |
|the mightiest whale is free. Nor is     |
|this the end. Desecrated as the body    |
|is, a vengeful ghost survives and       |
|hovers over it to scare. Espied by      |
|some timid man-of-war or blundering     |
|discovery-vessel from afar, when the    |
|distance obscuring the swarming fowls,  |
|nevertheless still shows the white mass |
|floating in the sun, and the white spray|
|heaving high against it; straightway the|
|whale's unharming corpse, with trembling|
|fingers is set down in the log--SHOALS, |
|ROCKS, AND BREAKERS HEREABOUTS: BEWARE! |
|And for years afterwards, perhaps, ships|
|shun the place; leaping over it as      |
|silly sheep leap over a vacuum, because |
|their leader originally leaped there    |
|when a stick was held. There's your law |
|of precedents; there's your utility of  |
|traditions; there's the story of your   |
|obstinate survival of old beliefs never |
|bottomed on the earth, and now not even |
|hovering in the air! There's orthodoxy! |
|Thus, while in life the great whale's   |
|body may have been a real terror to his |
|foes, in his death his ghost becomes a  |
|powerless panic to a world. Are you a   |
|believer in ghosts, my friend? There are|
|other ghosts than the Cock-Lane one,    |
|and far deeper men than Doctor Johnson  |
|who believe in them. It should not have |
|been omitted that previous to completely|
|stripping the body of the leviathan, he |
|was beheaded. Now, the beheading of the |
|Sperm Whale is a scientific anatomical  |
|feat, upon which experienced whale      |
|surgeons very much pride themselves: and|
|not without reason. Consider that the   |
|whale has nothing that can properly be  |
|called a neck; on the contrary, where   |
|his head and body seem to join, there,  |
|in that very place, is the thickest     |
|part of him. Remember, also, that the   |
|surgeon must operate from above, some   |
|eight or ten feet intervening between   |
|him and his subject, and that subject   |
|almost hidden in a discoloured, rolling,|
|and oftentimes tumultuous and bursting  |
|sea. Bear in mind, too, that under these|
|untoward circumstances he has to cut    |
|many feet deep in the flesh; and in     |
|that subterraneous manner, without so   |
|much as getting one single peep into    |
|the ever-contracting gash thus made,    |
|he must skilfully steer clear of all    |
|adjacent, interdicted parts, and exactly|
|divide the spine at a critical point    |
|hard by its insertion into the skull.   |
|Do you not marvel, then, at Stubb's     |
|boast, that he demanded but ten minutes |
|to behead a sperm whale? When first     |
|severed, the head is dropped astern and |
|held there by a cable till the body is  |
|stripped. That done, if it belong to a  |
|small whale it is hoisted on deck to be |
|deliberately disposed of. But, with a   |
|full grown leviathan this is impossible;|
|for the sperm whale's head embraces     |
|nearly one third of his entire bulk,    |
|and completely to suspend such a burden |
|as that, even by the immense tackles    |
|of a whaler, this were as vain a thing  |
|as to attempt weighing a Dutch barn in  |
|jewellers' scales. The Pequod's whale   |
|being decapitated and the body stripped,|
|the head was hoisted against the ship's |
|side--about half way out of the sea,    |
|so that it might yet in great part be   |
|buoyed up by its native element. And    |
|there with the strained craft steeply   |
|leaning over to it, by reason of the    |
|enormous downward drag from the lower   |
|mast-head, and every yard-arm on that   |
|side projecting like a crane over the   |
|waves; there, that blood-dripping head  |
|hung to the Pequod's waist like the     |
|giant Holofernes's from the girdle      |
|of Judith. When this last task was      |
|accomplished it was noon, and the seamen|
|went below to their dinner. Silence     |
|reigned over the before tumultuous      |
|but now deserted deck. An intense       |
|copper calm, like a universal yellow    |
|lotus, was more and more unfolding its  |
|noiseless measureless leaves upon the   |
|sea. A short space elapsed, and up into |
|this noiselessness came Ahab alone      |
|from his cabin. Taking a few turns on   |
|the quarter-deck, he paused to gaze     |
|over the side, then slowly getting      |
|into the main-chains he took Stubb's    |
|long spade--still remaining there       |
|after the whale's Decapitation--and     |
|striking it into the lower part of the  |
|half-suspended mass, placed its other   |
|end crutch-wise under one arm, and so   |
|stood leaning over with eyes attentively|
|fixed on this head. It was a black and  |
|hooded head; and hanging there in the   |
|midst of so intense a calm, it seemed   |
|the Sphynx's in the desert. "Speak, thou|
|vast and venerable head," muttered Ahab,|
|"which, though ungarnished with a beard,|
|yet here and there lookest hoary with   |
|mosses; speak, mighty head, and tell us |
|the secret thing that is in thee. Of all|
|divers, thou hast dived the deepest.    |
|That head upon which the upper sun now  |
|gleams, has moved amid this world's     |
|foundations. Where unrecorded names     |
|and navies rust, and untold hopes and   |
|anchors rot; where in her murderous hold|
|this frigate earth is ballasted with    |
|bones of millions of the drowned; there,|
|in that awful water-land, there was     |
|thy most familiar home. Thou hast been  |
|where bell or diver never went; hast    |
|slept by many a sailor's side, where    |
|sleepless mothers would give their lives|
|to lay them down. Thou saw'st the locked|
|lovers when leaping from their flaming  |
|ship; heart to heart they sank beneath  |
|the exulting wave; true to each other,  |
|when heaven seemed false to them. Thou  |
|saw'st the murdered mate when tossed    |
|by pirates from the midnight deck; for  |
|hours he fell into the deeper midnight  |
|of the insatiate maw; and his murderers |
|still sailed on unharmed--while swift   |
|lightnings shivered the neighboring     |
|ship that would have borne a righteous  |
|husband to outstretched, longing arms. O|
|head! thou hast seen enough to split the|
|planets and make an infidel of Abraham, |
|and not one syllable is thine!" "Sail   |
|ho!" cried a triumphant voice from the  |
|main-mast-head. "Aye? Well, now, that's |
|cheering," cried Ahab, suddenly erecting|
|himself, while whole thunder-clouds     |
|swept aside from his brow. "That lively |
|cry upon this deadly calm might almost  |
|convert a better man.--Where away?"     |
|"Three points on the starboard bow,     |
|sir, and bringing down her breeze to    |
|us! "Better and better, man. Would now  |
|St. Paul would come along that way,     |
|and to my breezelessness bring his      |
|breeze! O Nature, and O soul of man!    |
|how far beyond all utterance are your   |
|linked analogies! not the smallest atom |
|stirs or lives on matter, but has its   |
|cunning duplicate in mind." Hand in     |
|hand, ship and breeze blew on; but the  |
|breeze came faster than the ship, and   |
|soon the Pequod began to rock. By and   |
|by, through the glass the stranger's    |
|boats and manned mast-heads proved her  |
|a whale-ship. But as she was so far to  |
|windward, and shooting by, apparently   |
|making a passage to some other ground,  |
|the Pequod could not hope to reach      |
|her. So the signal was set to see what  |
|response would be made. Here be it      |
|said, that like the vessels of military |
|marines, the ships of the American Whale|
|Fleet have each a private signal; all   |
|which signals being collected in a book |
|with the names of the respective vessels|
|attached, every captain is provided with|
|it. Thereby, the whale commanders are   |
|enabled to recognise each other upon the|
|ocean, even at considerable distances   |
|and with no small facility. The Pequod's|
|signal was at last responded to by      |
|the stranger's setting her own; which   |
|proved the ship to be the Jeroboam of   |
|Nantucket. Squaring her yards, she bore |
|down, ranged abeam under the Pequod's   |
|lee, and lowered a boat; it soon drew   |
|nigh; but, as the side-ladder was       |
|being rigged by Starbuck's order to     |
|accommodate the visiting captain, the   |
|stranger in question waved his hand     |
|from his boat's stern in token of that  |
|proceeding being entirely unnecessary.  |
|It turned out that the Jeroboam had     |
|a malignant epidemic on board, and      |
|that Mayhew, her captain, was fearful   |
|of infecting the Pequod's company.      |
|For, though himself and boat's crew     |
|remained untainted, and though his      |
|ship was half a rifle-shot off, and an  |
|incorruptible sea and air rolling and   |
|flowing between; yet conscientiously    |
|adhering to the timid quarantine of the |
|land, he peremptorily refused to come   |
|into direct contact with the Pequod.    |
|But this did by no means prevent all    |
|communications. Preserving an interval  |
|of some few yards between itself and    |
|the ship, the Jeroboam's boat by the    |
|occasional use of its oars contrived    |
|to keep parallel to the Pequod, as she  |
|heavily forged through the sea (for by  |
|this time it blew very fresh), with her |
|main-topsail aback; though, indeed, at  |
|times by the sudden onset of a large    |
|rolling wave, the boat would be pushed  |
|some way ahead; but would be soon       |
|skilfully brought to her proper bearings|
|again. Subject to this, and other the   |
|like interruptions now and then, a      |
|conversation was sustained between      |
|the two parties; but at intervals not   |
|without still another interruption of   |
|a very different sort. Pulling an oar   |
|in the Jeroboam's boat, was a man of    |
|a singular appearance, even in that     |
|wild whaling life where individual      |
|notabilities make up all totalities.    |
|He was a small, short, youngish man,    |
|sprinkled all over his face with        |
|freckles, and wearing redundant yellow  |
|hair. A long-skirted, cabalistically-cut|
|coat of a faded walnut tinge enveloped  |
|him; the overlapping sleeves of which   |
|were rolled up on his wrists. A         |
|deep, settled, fanatic delirium was     |
|in his eyes. So soon as this figure     |
|had been first descried, Stubb had      |
|exclaimed--"That's he! that's he!--the  |
|long-togged scaramouch the Town-Ho's    |
|company told us of!" Stubb here alluded |
|to a strange story told of the Jeroboam,|
|and a certain man among her crew, some  |
|time previous when the Pequod spoke     |
|the Town-Ho. According to this account  |
|and what was subsequently learned, it   |
|seemed that the scaramouch in question  |
|had gained a wonderful ascendency over  |
|almost everybody in the Jeroboam. His   |
|story was this: He had been originally  |
|nurtured among the crazy society of     |
|Neskyeuna Shakers, where he had been a  |
|great prophet; in their cracked, secret |
|meetings having several times descended |
|from heaven by the way of a trap-door,  |
|announcing the speedy opening of the    |
|seventh vial, which he carried in his   |
|vest-pocket; but, which, instead of     |
|containing gunpowder, was supposed to   |
|be charged with laudanum. A strange,    |
|apostolic whim having seized him, he    |
|had left Neskyeuna for Nantucket,       |
|where, with that cunning peculiar       |
|to craziness, he assumed a steady,      |
|common-sense exterior, and offered      |
|himself as a green-hand candidate for   |
|the Jeroboam's whaling voyage. They     |
|engaged him; but straightway upon the   |
|ship's getting out of sight of land,    |
|his insanity broke out in a freshet.    |
|He announced himself as the archangel   |
|Gabriel, and commanded the captain      |
|to jump overboard. He published his     |
|manifesto, whereby he set himself forth |
|as the deliverer of the isles of the    |
|sea and vicar-general of all Oceanica.  |
|The unflinching earnestness with which  |
|he declared these things;--the dark,    |
|daring play of his sleepless, excited   |
|imagination, and all the preternatural  |
|terrors of real delirium, united to     |
|invest this Gabriel in the minds of the |
|majority of the ignorant crew, with an  |
|atmosphere of sacredness. Moreover,     |
|they were afraid of him. As such a man, |
|however, was not of much practical use  |
|in the ship, especially as he refused   |
|to work except when he pleased, the     |
|incredulous captain would fain have     |
|been rid of him; but apprised that that |
|individual's intention was to land      |
|him in the first convenient port, the   |
|archangel forthwith opened all his seals|
|and vials--devoting the ship and all    |
|hands to unconditional perdition, in    |
|case this intention was carried out. So |
|strongly did he work upon his disciples |
|among the crew, that at last in a body  |
|they went to the captain and told him   |
|if Gabriel was sent from the ship, not  |
|a man of them would remain. He was      |
|therefore forced to relinquish his plan.|
|Nor would they permit Gabriel to be any |
|way maltreated, say or do what he would;|
|so that it came to pass that Gabriel had|
|the complete freedom of the ship. The   |
|consequence of all this was, that the   |
|archangel cared little or nothing for   |
|the captain and mates; and since the    |
|epidemic had broken out, he carried a   |
|higher hand than ever; declaring that   |
|the plague, as he called it, was at his |
|sole command; nor should it be stayed   |
|but according to his good pleasure. The |
|sailors, mostly poor devils, cringed,   |
|and some of them fawned before him; in  |
|obedience to his instructions, sometimes|
|rendering him personal homage, as to a  |
|god. Such things may seem incredible;   |
|but, however wondrous, they are true.   |
|Nor is the history of fanatics half so  |
|striking in respect to the measureless  |
|self-deception of the fanatic himself,  |
|as his measureless power of deceiving   |
|and bedevilling so many others. But it  |
|is time to return to the Pequod. "I     |
|fear not thy epidemic, man," said Ahab  |
|from the bulwarks, to Captain Mayhew,   |
|who stood in the boat's stern; "come    |
|on board." But now Gabriel started to   |
|his feet. "Think, think of the fevers,  |
|yellow and bilious! Beware of the       |
|horrible plague!" "Gabriel! Gabriel!"   |
|cried Captain Mayhew; "thou must        |
|either--" But that instant a headlong   |
|wave shot the boat far ahead, and its   |
|seethings drowned all speech. "Hast thou|
|seen the White Whale?" demanded Ahab,   |
|when the boat drifted back. "Think,     |
|think of thy whale-boat, stoven and     |
|sunk! Beware of the horrible tail!" "I  |
|tell thee again, Gabriel, that--" But   |
|again the boat tore ahead as if dragged |
|by fiends. Nothing was said for some    |
|moments, while a succession of riotous  |
|waves rolled by, which by one of those  |
|occasional caprices of the seas were    |
|tumbling, not heaving it. Meantime,     |
|the hoisted sperm whale's head jogged   |
|about very violently, and Gabriel       |
|was seen eyeing it with rather more     |
|apprehensiveness than his archangel     |
|nature seemed to warrant. When this     |
|interlude was over, Captain Mayhew began|
|a dark story concerning Moby Dick; not, |
|however, without frequent interruptions |
|from Gabriel, whenever his name was     |
|mentioned, and the crazy sea that seemed|
|leagued with him. It seemed that the    |
|Jeroboam had not long left home, when   |
|upon speaking a whale-ship, her people  |
|were reliably apprised of the existence |
|of Moby Dick, and the havoc he had made.|
|Greedily sucking in this intelligence,  |
|Gabriel solemnly warned the captain     |
|against attacking the White Whale, in   |
|case the monster should be seen; in his |
|gibbering insanity, pronouncing the     |
|White Whale to be no less a being than  |
|the Shaker God incarnated; the Shakers  |
|receiving the Bible. But when, some year|
|or two afterwards, Moby Dick was fairly |
|sighted from the mast-heads, Macey,     |
|the chief mate, burned with ardour to   |
|encounter him; and the captain himself  |
|being not unwilling to let him have the |
|opportunity, despite all the archangel's|
|denunciations and forewarnings, Macey   |
|succeeded in persuading five men to     |
|man his boat. With them he pushed off;  |
|and, after much weary pulling, and many |
|perilous, unsuccessful onsets, he at    |
|last succeeded in getting one iron fast.|
|Meantime, Gabriel, ascending to the     |
|main-royal mast-head, was tossing one   |
|arm in frantic gestures, and hurling    |
|forth prophecies of speedy doom to the  |
|sacrilegious assailants of his divinity.|
|Now, while Macey, the mate, was standing|
|up in his boat's bow, and with all the  |
|reckless energy of his tribe was venting|
|his wild exclamations upon the whale,   |
|and essaying to get a fair chance for   |
|his poised lance, lo! a broad white     |
|shadow rose from the sea; by its quick, |
|fanning motion, temporarily taking the  |
|breath out of the bodies of the oarsmen.|
|Next instant, the luckless mate, so full|
|of furious life, was smitten bodily     |
|into the air, and making a long arc in  |
|his descent, fell into the sea at the   |
|distance of about fifty yards. Not a    |
|chip of the boat was harmed, nor a hair |
|of any oarsman's head; but the mate for |
|ever sank. It is well to parenthesize   |
|here, that of the fatal accidents in    |
|the Sperm-Whale Fishery, this kind is   |
|perhaps almost as frequent as any.      |
|Sometimes, nothing is injured but the   |
|man who is thus annihilated; oftener    |
|the boat's bow is knocked off, or the   |
|thigh-board, in which the headsman      |
|stands, is torn from its place and      |
|accompanies the body. But strangest of  |
|all is the circumstance, that in more   |
|instances than one, when the body has   |
|been recovered, not a single mark of    |
|violence is discernible; the man being  |
|stark dead. The whole calamity, with    |
|the falling form of Macey, was plainly  |
|descried from the ship. Raising a       |
|piercing shriek--"The vial! the vial!"  |
|Gabriel called off the terror-stricken  |
|crew from the further hunting of the    |
|whale. This terrible event clothed the  |
|archangel with added influence; because |
|his credulous disciples believed that   |
|he had specifically fore-announced      |
|it, instead of only making a general    |
|prophecy, which any one might have done,|
|and so have chanced to hit one of many  |
|marks in the wide margin allowed. He    |
|became a nameless terror to the ship.   |
|Mayhew having concluded his narration,  |
|Ahab put such questions to him, that    |
|the stranger captain could not forbear  |
|inquiring whether he intended to hunt   |
|the White Whale, if opportunity should  |
|offer. To which Ahab answered--"Aye."   |
|Straightway, then, Gabriel once more    |
|started to his feet, glaring upon the   |
|old man, and vehemently exclaimed,      |
|with downward pointed finger--"Think,   |
|think of the blasphemer--dead, and down |
|there!--beware of the blasphemer's      |
|end!" Ahab stolidly turned aside; then  |
|said to Mayhew, "Captain, I have just   |
|bethought me of my letter-bag; there    |
|is a letter for one of thy officers,    |
|if I mistake not. Starbuck, look over   |
|the bag." Every whale-ship takes out a  |
|goodly number of letters for various    |
|ships, whose delivery to the persons    |
|to whom they may be addressed, depends  |
|upon the mere chance of encountering    |
|them in the four oceans. Thus, most     |
|letters never reach their mark; and     |
|many are only received after attaining  |
|an age of two or three years or more.   |
|Soon Starbuck returned with a letter in |
|his hand. It was sorely tumbled, damp,  |
|and covered with a dull, spotted, green |
|mould, in consequence of being kept in  |
|a dark locker of the cabin. Of such a   |
|letter, Death himself might well have   |
|been the post-boy. "Can'st not read it?"|
|cried Ahab. "Give it me, man. Aye, aye, |
|it's but a dim scrawl;--what's this?"   |
|As he was studying it out, Starbuck     |
|took a long cutting-spade pole, and     |
|with his knife slightly split the end,  |
|to insert the letter there, and in      |
|that way, hand it to the boat, without  |
|its coming any closer to the ship.      |
|Meantime, Ahab holding the letter,      |
|muttered, "Mr. Har--yes, Mr. Harry--(a  |
|woman's pinny hand,--the man's wife,    |
|I'll wager)--Aye--Mr. Harry Macey, Ship |
|Jeroboam;--why it's Macey, and he's     |
|dead!" "Poor fellow! poor fellow! and   |
|from his wife," sighed Mayhew; "but let |
|me have it." "Nay, keep it thyself,"    |
|cried Gabriel to Ahab; "thou art soon   |
|going that way." "Curses throttle thee!"|
|yelled Ahab. "Captain Mayhew, stand by  |
|now to receive it"; and taking the fatal|
|missive from Starbuck's hands, he caught|
|it in the slit of the pole, and reached |
|it over towards the boat. But as he did |
|so, the oarsmen expectantly desisted    |
|from rowing; the boat drifted a little  |
|towards the ship's stern; so that, as   |
|if by magic, the letter suddenly ranged |
|along with Gabriel's eager hand. He     |
|clutched it in an instant, seized the   |
|boat-knife, and impaling the letter     |
|on it, sent it thus loaded back into    |
|the ship. It fell at Ahab's feet. Then  |
|Gabriel shrieked out to his comrades to |
|give way with their oars, and in that   |
|manner the mutinous boat rapidly shot   |
|away from the Pequod. As, after this    |
|interlude, the seamen resumed their     |
|work upon the jacket of the whale, many |
|strange things were hinted in reference |
|to this wild affair. In the tumultuous  |
|business of cutting-in and attending to |
|a whale, there is much running backwards|
|and forwards among the crew. Now hands  |
|are wanted here, and then again hands   |
|are wanted there. There is no staying   |
|in any one place; for at one and the    |
|same time everything has to be done     |
|everywhere. It is much the same with him|
|who endeavors the description of the    |
|scene. We must now retrace our way a    |
|little. It was mentioned that upon first|
|breaking ground in the whale's back,    |
|the blubber-hook was inserted into the  |
|original hole there cut by the spades   |
|of the mates. But how did so clumsy and |
|weighty a mass as that same hook get    |
|fixed in that hole? It was inserted     |
|there by my particular friend Queequeg, |
|whose duty it was, as harpooneer, to    |
|descend upon the monster's back for the |
|special purpose referred to. But in     |
|very many cases, circumstances require  |
|that the harpooneer shall remain on     |
|the whale till the whole tensing or     |
|stripping operation is concluded. The   |
|whale, be it observed, lies almost      |
|entirely submerged, excepting the       |
|immediate parts operated upon. So down  |
|there, some ten feet below the level of |
|the deck, the poor harpooneer flounders |
|about, half on the whale and half in    |
|the water, as the vast mass revolves    |
|like a tread-mill beneath him. On the   |
|occasion in question, Queequeg figured  |
|in the Highland costume--a shirt and    |
|socks--in which to my eyes, at least,   |
|he appeared to uncommon advantage; and  |
|no one had a better chance to observe   |
|him, as will presently be seen. Being   |
|the savage's bowsman, that is, the      |
|person who pulled the bow-oar in his    |
|boat (the second one from forward), it  |
|was my cheerful duty to attend upon     |
|him while taking that hard-scrabble     |
|scramble upon the dead whale's back. You|
|have seen Italian organ-boys holding a  |
|dancing-ape by a long cord. Just so,    |
|from the ship's steep side, did I hold  |
|Queequeg down there in the sea, by what |
|is technically called in the fishery    |
|a monkey-rope, attached to a strong     |
|strip of canvas belted round his waist. |
|It was a humorously perilous business   |
|for both of us. For, before we proceed  |
|further, it must be said that the       |
|monkey-rope was fast at both ends; fast |
|to Queequeg's broad canvas belt, and    |
|fast to my narrow leather one. So that  |
|for better or for worse, we two, for    |
|the time, were wedded; and should poor  |
|Queequeg sink to rise no more, then both|
|usage and honour demanded, that instead |
|of cutting the cord, it should drag me  |
|down in his wake. So, then, an elongated|
|Siamese ligature united us. Queequeg was|
|my own inseparable twin brother; nor    |
|could I any way get rid of the dangerous|
|liabilities which the hempen bond       |
|entailed. So strongly and metaphysically|
|did I conceive of my situation then,    |
|that while earnestly watching his       |
|motions, I seemed distinctly to perceive|
|that my own individuality was now merged|
|in a joint stock company of two; that my|
|free will had received a mortal wound;  |
|and that another's mistake or misfortune|
|might plunge innocent me into unmerited |
|disaster and death. Therefore, I saw    |
|that here was a sort of interregnum in  |
|Providence; for its even-handed equity  |
|never could have so gross an injustice. |
|And yet still further pondering--while  |
|I jerked him now and then from between  |
|the whale and ship, which would threaten|
|to jam him--still further pondering,    |
|I say, I saw that this situation of     |
|mine was the precise situation of every |
|mortal that breathes; only, in most     |
|cases, he, one way or other, has this   |
|Siamese connexion with a plurality of   |
|other mortals. If your banker breaks,   |
|you snap; if your apothecary by mistake |
|sends you poison in your pills, you die.|
|True, you may say that, by exceeding    |
|caution, you may possibly escape these  |
|and the multitudinous other evil        |
|chances of life. But handle Queequeg's  |
|monkey-rope heedfully as I would,       |
|sometimes he jerked it so, that I came  |
|very near sliding overboard. Nor could I|
|possibly forget that, do what I would,  |
|I only had the management of one end    |
|of it. The monkey-rope is found in all  |
|whalers; but it was only in the Pequod  |
|that the monkey and his holder were ever|
|tied together. This improvement upon the|
|original usage was introduced by no less|
|a man than Stubb, in order to afford    |
|the imperilled harpooneer the strongest |
|possible guarantee for the faithfulness |
|and vigilance of his monkey-rope holder.|
|I have hinted that I would often jerk   |
|poor Queequeg from between the whale and|
|the ship--where he would occasionally   |
|fall, from the incessant rolling and    |
|swaying of both. But this was not the   |
|only jamming jeopardy he was exposed    |
|to. Unappalled by the massacre made     |
|upon them during the night, the sharks  |
|now freshly and more keenly allured     |
|by the before pent blood which began    |
|to flow from the carcass--the rabid     |
|creatures swarmed round it like bees    |
|in a beehive. And right in among those  |
|sharks was Queequeg; who often pushed   |
|them aside with his floundering feet. A |
|thing altogether incredible were it not |
|that attracted by such prey as a dead   |
|whale, the otherwise miscellaneously    |
|carnivorous shark will seldom touch     |
|a man. Nevertheless, it may well be     |
|believed that since they have such      |
|a ravenous finger in the pie, it is     |
|deemed but wise to look sharp to them.  |
|Accordingly, besides the monkey-rope,   |
|with which I now and then jerked the    |
|poor fellow from too close a vicinity   |
|to the maw of what seemed a peculiarly  |
|ferocious shark--he was provided with   |
|still another protection. Suspended     |
|over the side in one of the stages,     |
|Tashtego and Daggoo continually         |
|flourished over his head a couple of    |
|keen whale-spades, wherewith they       |
|slaughtered as many sharks as they      |
|could reach. This procedure of theirs,  |
|to be sure, was very disinterested      |
|and benevolent of them. They meant      |
|Queequeg's best happiness, I admit;     |
|but in their hasty zeal to befriend     |
|him, and from the circumstance that     |
|both he and the sharks were at times    |
|half hidden by the blood-muddled water, |
|those indiscreet spades of theirs would |
|come nearer amputating a leg than a     |
|tall. But poor Queequeg, I suppose,     |
|straining and gasping there with that   |
|great iron hook--poor Queequeg, I       |
|suppose, only prayed to his Yojo, and   |
|gave up his life into the hands of his  |
|gods. Well, well, my dear comrade and   |
|twin-brother, thought I, as I drew in   |
|and then slacked off the rope to every  |
|swell of the sea--what matters it, after|
|all? Are you not the precious image of  |
|each and all of us men in this whaling  |
|world? That unsounded ocean you gasp    |
|in, is Life; those sharks, your foes;   |
|those spades, your friends; and what    |
|between sharks and spades you are in    |
|a sad pickle and peril, poor lad. But   |
|courage! there is good cheer in store   |
|for you, Queequeg. For now, as with blue|
|lips and blood-shot eyes the exhausted  |
|savage at last climbs up the chains and |
|stands all dripping and involuntarily   |
|trembling over the side; the steward    |
|advances, and with a benevolent,        |
|consolatory glance hands him--what?     |
|Some hot Cognac? No! hands him, ye      |
|gods! hands him a cup of tepid ginger   |
|and water! "Ginger? Do I smell ginger?" |
|suspiciously asked Stubb, coming near.  |
|"Yes, this must be ginger," peering     |
|into the as yet untasted cup. Then      |
|standing as if incredulous for a while, |
|he calmly walked towards the astonished |
|steward slowly saying, "Ginger? ginger? |
|and will you have the goodness to tell  |
|me, Mr. Dough-Boy, where lies the       |
|virtue of ginger? Ginger! is ginger     |
|the sort of fuel you use, Dough-boy,    |
|to kindle a fire in this shivering      |
|cannibal? Ginger!--what the devil is    |
|ginger?--sea-coal? firewood?--lucifer   |
|matches?--tinder?--gunpowder?--what     |
|the devil is ginger, I say, that you    |
|offer this cup to our poor Queequeg     |
|here." "There is some sneaking          |
|Temperance Society movement about this  |
|business," he suddenly added, now       |
|approaching Starbuck, who had just      |
|come from forward. "Will you look at    |
|that kannakin, sir; smell of it, if     |
|you please." Then watching the mate's   |
|countenance, he added, "The steward, Mr.|
|Starbuck, had the face to offer that    |
|calomel and jalap to Queequeg, there,   |
|this instant off the whale. Is the      |
|steward an apothecary, sir? and may I   |
|ask whether this is the sort of bitters |
|by which he blows back the life into a  |
|half-drowned man?" "I trust not," said  |
|Starbuck, "it is poor stuff enough."    |
|"Aye, aye, steward," cried Stubb, "we'll|
|teach you to drug it harpooneer; none   |
|of your apothecary's medicine here;     |
|you want to poison us, do ye? You have  |
|got out insurances on our lives and     |
|want to murder us all, and pocket the   |
|proceeds, do ye?" "It was not me,"      |
|cried Dough-Boy, "it was Aunt Charity   |
|that brought the ginger on board; and   |
|bade me never give the harpooneers any  |
|spirits, but only this ginger-jub--so   |
|she called it." "Ginger-jub! you        |
|gingerly rascal! take that! and run     |
|along with ye to the lockers, and get   |
|something better. I hope I do no wrong, |
|Mr. Starbuck. It is the captain's       |
|orders--grog for the harpooneer on a    |
|whale." "Enough," replied Starbuck,     |
|"only don't hit him again, but--" "Oh,  |
|I never hurt when I hit, except when I  |
|hit a whale or something of that sort;  |
|and this fellow's a weazel. What were   |
|you about saying, sir?" "Only this: go  |
|down with him, and get what thou wantest|
|thyself." When Stubb reappeared, he     |
|came with a dark flask in one hand, and |
|a sort of tea-caddy in the other. The   |
|first contained strong spirits, and was |
|handed to Queequeg; the second was Aunt |
|Charity's gift, and that was freely     |
|given to the waves. It must be borne    |
|in mind that all this time we have a    |
|Sperm Whale's prodigious head hanging to|
|the Pequod's side. But we must let it   |
|continue hanging there a while till we  |
|can get a chance to attend to it. For   |
|the present other matters press, and the|
|best we can do now for the head, is to  |
|pray heaven the tackles may hold. Now,  |
|during the past night and forenoon, the |
|Pequod had gradually drifted into a     |
|sea, which, by its occasional patches   |
|of yellow brit, gave unusual tokens     |
|of the vicinity of Right Whales, a      |
|species of the Leviathan that but few   |
|supposed to be at this particular time  |
|lurking anywhere near. And though all   |
|hands commonly disdained the capture of |
|those inferior creatures; and though    |
|the Pequod was not commissioned to      |
|cruise for them at all, and though she  |
|had passed numbers of them near the     |
|Crozetts without lowering a boat; yet   |
|now that a Sperm Whale had been brought |
|alongside and beheaded, to the surprise |
|of all, the announcement was made that  |
|a Right Whale should be captured that   |
|day, if opportunity offered. Nor was    |
|this long wanting. Tall spouts were     |
|seen to leeward; and two boats, Stubb's |
|and Flask's, were detached in pursuit.  |
|Pulling further and further away, they  |
|at last became almost invisible to the  |
|men at the mast-head. But suddenly in   |
|the distance, they saw a great heap of  |
|tumultuous white water, and soon after  |
|news came from aloft that one or both   |
|the boats must be fast. An interval     |
|passed and the boats were in plain      |
|sight, in the act of being dragged right|
|towards the ship by the towing whale.   |
|So close did the monster come to the    |
|hull, that at first it seemed as if he  |
|meant it malice; but suddenly going     |
|down in a maelstrom, within three rods  |
|of the planks, he wholly disappeared    |
|from view, as if diving under the keel. |
|"Cut, cut!" was the cry from the ship   |
|to the boats, which, for one instant,   |
|seemed on the point of being brought    |
|with a deadly dash against the vessel's |
|side. But having plenty of line yet in  |
|the tubs, and the whale not sounding    |
|very rapidly, they paid out abundance   |
|of rope, and at the same time pulled    |
|with all their might so as to get       |
|ahead of the ship. For a few minutes    |
|the struggle was intensely critical;    |
|for while they still slacked out the    |
|tightened line in one direction, and    |
|still plied their oars in another, the  |
|contending strain threatened to take    |
|them under. But it was only a few feet  |
|advance they sought to gain. And they   |
|stuck to it till they did gain it; when |
|instantly, a swift tremor was felt      |
|running like lightning along the keel,  |
|as the strained line, scraping beneath  |
|the ship, suddenly rose to view under   |
|her bows, snapping and quivering; and   |
|so flinging off its drippings, that the |
|drops fell like bits of broken glass on |
|the water, while the whale beyond also  |
|rose to sight, and once more the boats  |
|were free to fly. But the fagged whale  |
|abated his speed, and blindly altering  |
|his course, went round the stern of the |
|ship towing the two boats after him, so |
|that they performed a complete circuit. |
|Meantime, they hauled more and more     |
|upon their lines, till close flanking   |
|him on both sides, Stubb answered Flask |
|with lance for lance; and thus round    |
|and round the Pequod the battle went,   |
|while the multitudes of sharks that had |
|before swum round the Sperm Whale's     |
|body, rushed to the fresh blood that was|
|spilled, thirstily drinking at every new|
|gash, as the eager Israelites did at the|
|new bursting fountains that poured from |
|the smitten rock. At last his spout grew|
|thick, and with a frightful roll and    |
|vomit, he turned upon his back a corpse.|
|While the two headsmen were engaged in  |
|making fast cords to his flukes, and in |
|other ways getting the mass in readiness|
|for towing, some conversation ensued    |
|between them. "I wonder what the old man|
|wants with this lump of foul lard," said|
|Stubb, not without some disgust at the  |
|thought of having to do with so ignoble |
|a leviathan. "Wants with it?" said      |
|Flask, coiling some spare line in the   |
|boat's bow, "did you never hear that the|
|ship which but once has a Sperm Whale's |
|head hoisted on her starboard side, and |
|at the same time a Right Whale's on the |
|larboard; did you never hear, Stubb,    |
|that that ship can never afterwards     |
|capsize?" "Why not? "I don't know, but I|
|heard that gamboge ghost of a Fedallah  |
|saying so, and he seems to know all     |
|about ships' charms. But I sometimes    |
|think he'll charm the ship to no good   |
|at last. I don't half like that chap,   |
|Stubb. Did you ever notice how that     |
|tusk of his is a sort of carved into a  |
|snake's head, Stubb?" "Sink him! I never|
|look at him at all; but if ever I get a |
|chance of a dark night, and he standing |
|hard by the bulwarks, and no one by;    |
|look down there, Flask"--pointing into  |
|the sea with a peculiar motion of both  |
|hands--"Aye, will I! Flask, I take that |
|Fedallah to be the devil in disguise.   |
|Do you believe that cock and bull story |
|about his having been stowed away on    |
|board ship? He's the devil, I say. The  |
|reason why you don't see his tail, is   |
|because he tucks it up out of sight; he |
|carries it coiled away in his pocket, I |
|guess. Blast him! now that I think of   |
|it, he's always wanting oakum to stuff  |
|into the toes of his boots." "He sleeps |
|in his boots, don't he? He hasn't got   |
|any hammock; but I've seen him lay of   |
|nights in a coil of rigging." "No doubt,|
|and it's because of his cursed tail; he |
|coils it down, do ye see, in the eye of |
|the rigging." "What's the old man have  |
|so much to do with him for?" "Striking  |
|up a swap or a bargain, I suppose."     |
|"Bargain?--about what?" "Why, do ye     |
|see, the old man is hard bent after     |
|that White Whale, and the devil there   |
|is trying to come round him, and get    |
|him to swap away his silver watch, or   |
|his soul, or something of that sort,    |
|and then he'll surrender Moby Dick."    |
|"Pooh! Stubb, you are skylarking; how   |
|can Fedallah do that?" "I don't know,   |
|Flask, but the devil is a curious chap, |
|and a wicked one, I tell ye. Why, they  |
|say as how he went a sauntering into the|
|old flag-ship once, switching his tail  |
|about devilish easy and gentlemanlike,  |
|and inquiring if the old governor was at|
|home. Well, he was at home, and asked   |
|the devil what he wanted. The devil,    |
|switching his hoofs, up and says, 'I    |
|want John.' 'What for?' says the old    |
|governor. 'What business is that of     |
|yours,' says the devil, getting mad,--'I|
|want to use him.' 'Take him,' says the  |
|governor--and by the Lord, Flask, if    |
|the devil didn't give John the Asiatic  |
|cholera before he got through with him, |
|I'll eat this whale in one mouthful.    |
|But look sharp--ain't you all ready     |
|there? Well, then, pull ahead, and let's|
|get the whale alongside." "I think I    |
|remember some such story as you were    |
|telling," said Flask, when at last the  |
|two boats were slowly advancing with    |
|their burden towards the ship, "but I   |
|can't remember where." "Three Spaniards?|
|Adventures of those three bloody-minded |
|soladoes? Did ye read it there, Flask?  |
|I guess ye did?" "No: never saw such    |
|a book; heard of it, though. But now,   |
|tell me, Stubb, do you suppose that that|
|devil you was speaking of just now, was |
|the same you say is now on board the    |
|Pequod?" "Am I the same man that helped |
|kill this whale? Doesn't the devil live |
|for ever; who ever heard that the devil |
|was dead? Did you ever see any parson a |
|wearing mourning for the devil? And if  |
|the devil has a latch-key to get into   |
|the admiral's cabin, don't you suppose  |
|he can crawl into a porthole? Tell      |
|me that, Mr. Flask?" "How old do you    |
|suppose Fedallah is, Stubb?" "Do you    |
|see that mainmast there?" pointing to   |
|the ship; "well, that's the figure one; |
|now take all the hoops in the Pequod's  |
|hold, and string along in a row with    |
|that mast, for oughts, do you see; well,|
|that wouldn't begin to be Fedallah's    |
|age. Nor all the coopers in creation    |
|couldn't show hoops enough to make      |
|oughts enough." "But see here, Stubb,   |
|I thought you a little boasted just     |
|now, that you meant to give Fedallah    |
|a sea-toss, if you got a good chance.   |
|Now, if he's so old as all those hoops  |
|of yours come to, and if he is going    |
|to live for ever, what good will it do  |
|to pitch him overboard--tell me that?   |
|"Give him a good ducking, anyhow." "But |
|he'd crawl back." "Duck him again; and  |
|keep ducking him." "Suppose he should   |
|take it into his head to duck you,      |
|though--yes, and drown you--what then?" |
|"I should like to see him try it; I'd   |
|give him such a pair of black eyes that |
|he wouldn't dare to show his face in the|
|admiral's cabin again for a long while, |
|let alone down in the orlop there, where|
|he lives, and hereabouts on the upper   |
|decks where he sneaks so much. Damn the |
|devil, Flask; so you suppose I'm afraid |
|of the devil? Who's afraid of him,      |
|except the old governor who daresn't    |
|catch him and put him in double-darbies,|
|as he deserves, but lets him go about   |
|kidnapping people; aye, and signed a    |
|bond with him, that all the people the  |
|devil kidnapped, he'd roast for him?    |
|There's a governor!" "Do you suppose    |
|Fedallah wants to kidnap Captain Ahab?" |
|"Do I suppose it? You'll know it before |
|long, Flask. But I am going now to keep |
|a sharp look-out on him; and if I see   |
|anything very suspicious going on, I'll |
|just take him by the nape of his neck,  |
|and say--Look here, Beelzebub, you don't|
|do it; and if he makes any fuss, by the |
|Lord I'll make a grab into his pocket   |
|for his tail, take it to the capstan,   |
|and give him such a wrenching and       |
|heaving, that his tail will come short  |
|off at the stump--do you see; and then, |
|I rather guess when he finds himself    |
|docked in that queer fashion, he'll     |
|sneak off without the poor satisfaction |
|of feeling his tail between his legs."  |
|"And what will you do with the tail,    |
|Stubb?" "Do with it? Sell it for an ox  |
|whip when we get home;--what else?"     |
|"Now, do you mean what you say, and have|
|been saying all along, Stubb?" "Mean or |
|not mean, here we are at the ship." The |
|boats were here hailed, to tow the whale|
|on the larboard side, where fluke chains|
|and other necessaries were already      |
|prepared for securing him. "Didn't I    |
|tell you so?" said Flask; "yes, you'll  |
|soon see this right whale's head hoisted|
|up opposite that parmacetti's." In good |
|time, Flask's saying proved true. As    |
|before, the Pequod steeply leaned over  |
|towards the sperm whale's head, now,    |
|by the counterpoise of both heads, she  |
|regained her even keel; though sorely   |
|strained, you may well believe. So,     |
|when on one side you hoist in Locke's   |
|head, you go over that way; but now,    |
|on the other side, hoist in Kant's and  |
|you come back again; but in very poor   |
|plight. Thus, some minds for ever keep  |
|trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw    |
|all these thunder-heads overboard, and  |
|then you will float light and right. In |
|disposing of the body of a right whale, |
|when brought alongside the ship, the    |
|same preliminary proceedings commonly   |
|take place as in the case of a sperm    |
|whale; only, in the latter instance, the|
|head is cut off whole, but in the former|
|the lips and tongue are separately      |
|removed and hoisted on deck, with all   |
|the well known black bone attached to   |
|what is called the crown-piece. But     |
|nothing like this, in the present case, |
|had been done. The carcases of both     |
|whales had dropped astern; and the      |
|head-laden ship not a little resembled  |
|a mule carrying a pair of overburdening |
|panniers. Meantime, Fedallah was calmly |
|eyeing the right whale's head, and      |
|ever and anon glancing from the deep    |
|wrinkles there to the lines in his own  |
|hand. And Ahab chanced so to stand, that|
|the Parsee occupied his shadow; while,  |
|if the Parsee's shadow was there at     |
|all it seemed only to blend with, and   |
|lengthen Ahab's. As the crew toiled on, |
|Laplandish speculations were bandied    |
|among them, concerning all these passing|
|things. Here, now, are two great whales,|
|laying their heads together; let us join|
|them, and lay together our own. Of the  |
|grand order of folio leviathans, the    |
|Sperm Whale and the Right Whale are by  |
|far the most noteworthy. They are the   |
|only whales regularly hunted by man. To |
|the Nantucketer, they present the two   |
|extremes of all the known varieties of  |
|the whale. As the external difference   |
|between them is mainly observable in    |
|their heads; and as a head of each is   |
|this moment hanging from the Pequod's   |
|side; and as we may freely go from      |
|one to the other, by merely stepping    |
|across the deck:--where, I should like  |
|to know, will you obtain a better       |
|chance to study practical cetology      |
|than here? In the first place, you      |
|are struck by the general contrast      |
|between these heads. Both are massive   |
|enough in all conscience; but there     |
|is a certain mathematical symmetry      |
|in the Sperm Whale's which the Right    |
|Whale's sadly lacks. There is more      |
|character in the Sperm Whale's head.    |
|As you behold it, you involuntarily     |
|yield the immense superiority to him,   |
|in point of pervading dignity. In the   |
|present instance, too, this dignity is  |
|heightened by the pepper and salt colour|
|of his head at the summit, giving token |
|of advanced age and large experience.   |
|In short, he is what the fishermen      |
|technically call a "grey-headed whale." |
|Let us now note what is least dissimilar|
|in these heads--namely, the two most    |
|important organs, the eye and the ear.  |
|Far back on the side of the head, and   |
|low down, near the angle of either      |
|whale's jaw, if you narrowly search, you|
|will at last see a lashless eye, which  |
|you would fancy to be a young colt's    |
|eye; so out of all proportion is it to  |
|the magnitude of the head. Now, from    |
|this peculiar sideway position of the   |
|whale's eyes, it is plain that he can   |
|never see an object which is exactly    |
|ahead, no more than he can one exactly  |
|astern. In a word, the position of the  |
|whale's eyes corresponds to that of     |
|a man's ears; and you may fancy, for    |
|yourself, how it would fare with you,   |
|did you sideways survey objects through |
|your ears. You would find that you      |
|could only command some thirty degrees  |
|of vision in advance of the straight    |
|side-line of sight; and about thirty    |
|more behind it. If your bitterest foe   |
|were walking straight towards you,      |
|with dagger uplifted in broad day, you  |
|would not be able to see him, any more  |
|than if he were stealing upon you from  |
|behind. In a word, you would have two   |
|backs, so to speak; but, at the same    |
|time, also, two fronts (side fronts):   |
|for what is it that makes the front     |
|of a man--what, indeed, but his eyes?   |
|Moreover, while in most other animals   |
|that I can now think of, the eyes are   |
|so planted as imperceptibly to blend    |
|their visual power, so as to produce one|
|picture and not two to the brain; the   |
|peculiar position of the whale's eyes,  |
|effectually divided as they are by many |
|cubic feet of solid head, which towers  |
|between them like a great mountain      |
|separating two lakes in valleys; this,  |
|of course, must wholly separate the     |
|impressions which each independent      |
|organ imparts. The whale, therefore,    |
|must see one distinct picture on this   |
|side, and another distinct picture on   |
|that side; while all between must be    |
|profound darkness and nothingness to    |
|him. Man may, in effect, be said to look|
|out on the world from a sentry-box with |
|two joined sashes for his window. But   |
|with the whale, these two sashes are    |
|separately inserted, making two distinct|
|windows, but sadly impairing the view.  |
|This peculiarity of the whale's eyes is |
|a thing always to be borne in mind in   |
|the fishery; and to be remembered by    |
|the reader in some subsequent scenes.   |
|A curious and most puzzling question    |
|might be started concerning this visual |
|matter as touching the Leviathan. But   |
|I must be content with a hint. So long  |
|as a man's eyes are open in the light,  |
|the act of seeing is involuntary; that  |
|is, he cannot then help mechanically    |
|seeing whatever objects are before him. |
|Nevertheless, any one's experience will |
|teach him, that though he can take in   |
|an undiscriminating sweep of things at  |
|one glance, it is quite impossible for  |
|him, attentively, and completely, to    |
|examine any two things--however large   |
|or however small--at one and the same   |
|instant of time; never mind if they lie |
|side by side and touch each other. But  |
|if you now come to separate these two   |
|objects, and surround each by a circle  |
|of profound darkness; then, in order    |
|to see one of them, in such a manner    |
|as to bring your mind to bear on it,    |
|the other will be utterly excluded      |
|from your contemporary consciousness.   |
|How is it, then, with the whale? True,  |
|both his eyes, in themselves, must      |
|simultaneously act; but is his brain    |
|so much more comprehensive, combining,  |
|and subtle than man's, that he can at   |
|the same moment of time attentively     |
|examine two distinct prospects, one on  |
|one side of him, and the other in an    |
|exactly opposite direction? If he can,  |
|then is it as marvellous a thing in him,|
|as if a man were able simultaneously    |
|to go through the demonstrations of     |
|two distinct problems in Euclid. Nor,   |
|strictly investigated, is there any     |
|incongruity in this comparison. It may  |
|be but an idle whim, but it has always  |
|seemed to me, that the extraordinary    |
|vacillations of movement displayed by   |
|some whales when beset by three or      |
|four boats; the timidity and liability  |
|to queer frights, so common to such     |
|whales; I think that all this indirectly|
|proceeds from the helpless perplexity   |
|of volition, in which their divided     |
|and diametrically opposite powers of    |
|vision must involve them. But the ear   |
|of the whale is full as curious as the  |
|eye. If you are an entire stranger to   |
|their race, you might hunt over these   |
|two heads for hours, and never discover |
|that organ. The ear has no external leaf|
|whatever; and into the hole itself you  |
|can hardly insert a quill, so wondrously|
|minute is it. It is lodged a little     |
|behind the eye. With respect to their   |
|ears, this important difference is to   |
|be observed between the sperm whale and |
|the right. While the ear of the former  |
|has an external opening, that of the    |
|latter is entirely and evenly covered   |
|over with a membrane, so as to be quite |
|imperceptible from without. Is it not   |
|curious, that so vast a being as the    |
|whale should see the world through so   |
|small an eye, and hear the thunder      |
|through an ear which is smaller than a  |
|hare's? But if his eyes were broad as   |
|the lens of Herschel's great telescope; |
|and his ears capacious as the porches   |
|of cathedrals; would that make him any  |
|longer of sight, or sharper of hearing? |
|Not at all.--Why then do you try to     |
|"enlarge" your mind? Subtilize it.      |
|Let us now with whatever levers and     |
|steam-engines we have at hand, cant     |
|over the sperm whale's head, that it    |
|may lie bottom up; then, ascending by a |
|ladder to the summit, have a peep down  |
|the mouth; and were it not that the     |
|body is now completely separated from   |
|it, with a lantern we might descend     |
|into the great Kentucky Mammoth Cave    |
|of his stomach. But let us hold on      |
|here by this tooth, and look about us   |
|where we are. What a really beautiful   |
|and chaste-looking mouth! from floor    |
|to ceiling, lined, or rather papered    |
|with a glistening white membrane,       |
|glossy as bridal satins. But come out   |
|now, and look at this portentous lower  |
|jaw, which seems like the long narrow   |
|lid of an immense snuff-box, with the   |
|hinge at one end, instead of one side.  |
|If you pry it up, so as to get it       |
|overhead, and expose its rows of teeth, |
|it seems a terrific portcullis; and     |
|such, alas! it proves to many a poor    |
|wight in the fishery, upon whom these   |
|spikes fall with impaling force. But    |
|far more terrible is it to behold, when |
|fathoms down in the sea, you see some   |
|sulky whale, floating there suspended,  |
|with his prodigious jaw, some fifteen   |
|feet long, hanging straight down at     |
|right-angles with his body, for all the |
|world like a ship's jib-boom. This whale|
|is not dead; he is only dispirited; out |
|of sorts, perhaps; hypochondriac; and   |
|so supine, that the hinges of his jaw   |
|have relaxed, leaving him there in that |
|ungainly sort of plight, a reproach     |
|to all his tribe, who must, no doubt,   |
|imprecate lock-jaws upon him. In most   |
|cases this lower jaw--being easily      |
|unhinged by a practised artist--is      |
|disengaged and hoisted on deck for the  |
|purpose of extracting the ivory teeth,  |
|and furnishing a supply of that hard    |
|white whalebone with which the fishermen|
|fashion all sorts of curious articles,  |
|including canes, umbrella-stocks, and   |
|handles to riding-whips. With a long,   |
|weary hoist the jaw is dragged on board,|
|as if it were an anchor; and when the   |
|proper time comes--some few days after  |
|the other work--Queequeg, Daggoo,       |
|and Tashtego, being all accomplished    |
|dentists, are set to drawing teeth. With|
|a keen cutting-spade, Queequeg lances   |
|the gums; then the jaw is lashed down   |
|to ringbolts, and a tackle being rigged |
|from aloft, they drag out these teeth,  |
|as Michigan oxen drag stumps of old     |
|oaks out of wild wood lands. There are  |
|generally forty-two teeth in all; in old|
|whales, much worn down, but undecayed;  |
|nor filled after our artificial fashion.|
|The jaw is afterwards sawn into slabs,  |
|and piled away like joists for building |
|houses. Crossing the deck, let us now   |
|have a good long look at the Right      |
|Whale's head. As in general shape the   |
|noble Sperm Whale's head may be compared|
|to a Roman war-chariot (especially      |
|in front, where it is so broadly        |
|rounded); so, at a broad view, the Right|
|Whale's head bears a rather inelegant   |
|resemblance to a gigantic galliot-toed  |
|shoe. Two hundred years ago an old Dutch|
|voyager likened its shape to that of    |
|a shoemaker's last. And in this same    |
|last or shoe, that old woman of the     |
|nursery tale, with the swarming brood,  |
|might very comfortably be lodged, she   |
|and all her progeny. But as you come    |
|nearer to this great head it begins to  |
|assume different aspects, according to  |
|your point of view. If you stand on its |
|summit and look at these two F-shaped   |
|spoutholes, you would take the whole    |
|head for an enormous bass-viol, and     |
|these spiracles, the apertures in its   |
|sounding-board. Then, again, if you fix |
|your eye upon this strange, crested,    |
|comb-like incrustation on the top of the|
|mass--this green, barnacled thing, which|
|the Greenlanders call the "crown," and  |
|the Southern fishers the "bonnet" of the|
|Right Whale; fixing your eyes solely on |
|this, you would take the head for the   |
|trunk of some huge oak, with a bird's   |
|nest in its crotch. At any rate, when   |
|you watch those live crabs that nestle  |
|here on this bonnet, such an idea will  |
|be almost sure to occur to you; unless, |
|indeed, your fancy has been fixed by the|
|technical term "crown" also bestowed    |
|upon it; in which case you will take    |
|great interest in thinking how this     |
|mighty monster is actually a diademed   |
|king of the sea, whose green crown      |
|has been put together for him in this   |
|marvellous manner. But if this whale    |
|be a king, he is a very sulky looking   |
|fellow to grace a diadem. Look at that  |
|hanging lower lip! what a huge sulk     |
|and pout is there! a sulk and pout, by  |
|carpenter's measurement, about twenty   |
|feet long and five feet deep; a sulk    |
|and pout that will yield you some 500   |
|gallons of oil and more. A great pity,  |
|now, that this unfortunate whale should |
|be hare-lipped. The fissure is about a  |
|foot across. Probably the mother during |
|an important interval was sailing down  |
|the Peruvian coast, when earthquakes    |
|caused the beach to gape. Over this     |
|lip, as over a slippery threshold, we   |
|now slide into the mouth. Upon my word  |
|were I at Mackinaw, I should take this  |
|to be the inside of an Indian wigwam.   |
|Good Lord! is this the road that Jonah  |
|went? The roof is about twelve feet     |
|high, and runs to a pretty sharp angle, |
|as if there were a regular ridge-pole   |
|there; while these ribbed, arched,      |
|hairy sides, present us with those      |
|wondrous, half vertical, scimetar-shaped|
|slats of whalebone, say three hundred   |
|on a side, which depending from the     |
|upper part of the head or crown bone,   |
|form those Venetian blinds which have   |
|elsewhere been cursorily mentioned. The |
|edges of these bones are fringed with   |
|hairy fibres, through which the Right   |
|Whale strains the water, and in whose   |
|intricacies he retains the small fish,  |
|when openmouthed he goes through the    |
|seas of brit in feeding time. In the    |
|central blinds of bone, as they stand in|
|their natural order, there are certain  |
|curious marks, curves, hollows, and     |
|ridges, whereby some whalemen calculate |
|the creature's age, as the age of an    |
|oak by its circular rings. Though the   |
|certainty of this criterion is far from |
|demonstrable, yet it has the savor of   |
|analogical probability. At any rate,    |
|if we yield to it, we must grant a far  |
|greater age to the Right Whale than at  |
|first glance will seem reasonable. In   |
|old times, there seem to have prevailed |
|the most curious fancies concerning     |
|these blinds. One voyager in Purchas    |
|calls them the wondrous "whiskers"      |
|inside of the whale's mouth;* another,  |
|"hogs' bristles"; a third old gentleman |
|in Hackluyt uses the following elegant  |
|language: "There are about two hundred  |
|and fifty fins growing on each side of  |
|his upper CHOP, which arch over his     |
|tongue on each side of his mouth."      |
|This reminds us that the Right Whale    |
|really has a sort of whisker, or        |
|rather a moustache, consisting of a     |
|few scattered white hairs on the upper  |
|part of the outer end of the lower jaw. |
|Sometimes these tufts impart a rather   |
|brigandish expression to his otherwise  |
|solemn countenance. As every one knows, |
|these same "hogs' bristles," "fins,"    |
|"whiskers," "blinds," or whatever you   |
|please, furnish to the ladies their     |
|busks and other stiffening contrivances.|
|But in this particular, the demand has  |
|long been on the decline. It was in     |
|Queen Anne's time that the bone was in  |
|its glory, the farthingale being then   |
|all the fashion. And as those ancient   |
|dames moved about gaily, though in the  |
|jaws of the whale, as you may say;      |
|even so, in a shower, with the like     |
|thoughtlessness, do we nowadays fly     |
|under the same jaws for protection; the |
|umbrella being a tent spread over the   |
|same bone. But now forget all about     |
|blinds and whiskers for a moment, and,  |
|standing in the Right Whale's mouth,    |
|look around you afresh. Seeing all these|
|colonnades of bone so methodically      |
|ranged about, would you not think you   |
|were inside of the great Haarlem organ, |
|and gazing upon its thousand pipes? For |
|a carpet to the organ we have a rug of  |
|the softest Turkey--the tongue, which   |
|is glued, as it were, to the floor of   |
|the mouth. It is very fat and tender,   |
|and apt to tear in pieces in hoisting   |
|it on deck. This particular tongue now  |
|before us; at a passing glance I should |
|say it was a six-barreler; that is, it  |
|will yield you about that amount of oil.|
|Ere this, you must have plainly seen    |
|the truth of what I started with--that  |
|the Sperm Whale and the Right Whale     |
|have almost entirely different heads.   |
|To sum up, then: in the Right Whale's   |
|there is no great well of sperm; no     |
|ivory teeth at all; no long, slender    |
|mandible of a lower jaw, like the Sperm |
|Whale's. Nor in the Sperm Whale are     |
|there any of those blinds of bone; no   |
|huge lower lip; and scarcely anything   |
|of a tongue. Again, the Right Whale has |
|two external spout-holes, the Sperm     |
|Whale only one. Look your last, now,    |
|on these venerable hooded heads, while  |
|they yet lie together; for one will     |
|soon sink, unrecorded, in the sea;      |
|the other will not be very long in      |
|following. Can you catch the expression |
|of the Sperm Whale's there? It is the   |
|same he died with, only some of the     |
|longer wrinkles in the forehead seem    |
|now faded away. I think his broad brow  |
|to be full of a prairie-like placidity, |
|born of a speculative indifference as   |
|to death. But mark the other head's     |
|expression. See that amazing lower      |
|lip, pressed by accident against        |
|the vessel's side, so as firmly to      |
|embrace the jaw. Does not this whole    |
|head seem to speak of an enormous       |
|practical resolution in facing death?   |
|This Right Whale I take to have been a  |
|Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian,    |
|who might have taken up Spinoza in      |
|his latter years. Ere quitting, for     |
|the nonce, the Sperm Whale's head,      |
|I would have you, as a sensible         |
|physiologist, simply--particularly      |
|remark its front aspect, in all its     |
|compacted collectedness. I would have   |
|you investigate it now with the sole    |
|view of forming to yourself some        |
|unexaggerated, intelligent estimate of  |
|whatever battering-ram power may be     |
|lodged there. Here is a vital point; for|
|you must either satisfactorily settle   |
|this matter with yourself, or for ever  |
|remain an infidel as to one of the      |
|most appalling, but not the less true   |
|events, perhaps anywhere to be found in |
|all recorded history. You observe that  |
|in the ordinary swimming position of    |
|the Sperm Whale, the front of his head  |
|presents an almost wholly vertical plane|
|to the water; you observe that the lower|
|part of that front slopes considerably  |
|backwards, so as to furnish more of     |
|a retreat for the long socket which     |
|receives the boom-like lower jaw; you   |
|observe that the mouth is entirely under|
|the head, much in the same way, indeed, |
|as though your own mouth were entirely  |
|under your chin. Moreover you observe   |
|that the whale has no external nose;    |
|and that what nose he has--his spout    |
|hole--is on the top of his head; you    |
|observe that his eyes and ears are at   |
|the sides of his head, nearly one third |
|of his entire length from the front.    |
|Wherefore, you must now have perceived  |
|that the front of the Sperm Whale's     |
|head is a dead, blind wall, without     |
|a single organ or tender prominence     |
|of any sort whatsoever. Furthermore,    |
|you are now to consider that only in    |
|the extreme, lower, backward sloping    |
|part of the front of the head, is       |
|there the slightest vestige of bone;    |
|and not till you get near twenty feet   |
|from the forehead do you come to the    |
|full cranial development. So that this  |
|whole enormous boneless mass is as one  |
|wad. Finally, though, as will soon be   |
|revealed, its contents partly comprise  |
|the most delicate oil; yet, you are     |
|now to be apprised of the nature of     |
|the substance which so impregnably      |
|invests all that apparent effeminacy.   |
|In some previous place I have described |
|to you how the blubber wraps the body   |
|of the whale, as the rind wraps an      |
|orange. Just so with the head; but with |
|this difference: about the head this    |
|envelope, though not so thick, is of    |
|a boneless toughness, inestimable by    |
|any man who has not handled it. The     |
|severest pointed harpoon, the sharpest  |
|lance darted by the strongest human arm,|
|impotently rebounds from it. It is as   |
|though the forehead of the Sperm Whale  |
|were paved with horses' hoofs. I do not |
|think that any sensation lurks in it.   |
|Bethink yourself also of another thing. |
|When two large, loaded Indiamen chance  |
|to crowd and crush towards each other   |
|in the docks, what do the sailors do?   |
|They do not suspend between them, at    |
|the point of coming contact, any merely |
|hard substance, like iron or wood. No,  |
|they hold there a large, round wad of   |
|tow and cork, enveloped in the thickest |
|and toughest of ox-hide. That bravely   |
|and uninjured takes the jam which would |
|have snapped all their oaken handspikes |
|and iron crow-bars. By itself this      |
|sufficiently illustrates the obvious    |
|fact I drive at. But supplementary to   |
|this, it has hypothetically occurred    |
|to me, that as ordinary fish possess    |
|what is called a swimming bladder in    |
|them, capable, at will, of distension   |
|or contraction; and as the Sperm        |
|Whale, as far as I know, has no such    |
|provision in him; considering, too, the |
|otherwise inexplicable manner in which  |
|he now depresses his head altogether    |
|beneath the surface, and anon swims     |
|with it high elevated out of the        |
|water; considering the unobstructed     |
|elasticity of its envelope; considering |
|the unique interior of his head; it     |
|has hypothetically occurred to me, I    |
|say, that those mystical lung-celled    |
|honeycombs there may possibly have      |
|some hitherto unknown and unsuspected   |
|connexion with the outer air, so as     |
|to be susceptible to atmospheric        |
|distension and contraction. If this be  |
|so, fancy the irresistibleness of that  |
|might, to which the most impalpable and |
|destructive of all elements contributes.|
|Now, mark. Unerringly impelling this    |
|dead, impregnable, uninjurable wall,    |
|and this most buoyant thing within;     |
|there swims behind it all a mass of     |
|tremendous life, only to be adequately  |
|estimated as piled wood is--by the      |
|cord; and all obedient to one volition, |
|as the smallest insect. So that when    |
|I shall hereafter detail to you all     |
|the specialities and concentrations     |
|of potency everywhere lurking in this   |
|expansive monster; when I shall show    |
|you some of his more inconsiderable     |
|braining feats; I trust you will have   |
|renounced all ignorant incredulity, and |
|be ready to abide by this; that though  |
|the Sperm Whale stove a passage through |
|the Isthmus of Darien, and mixed the    |
|Atlantic with the Pacific, you would    |
|not elevate one hair of your eye-brow.  |
|For unless you own the whale, you are   |
|but a provincial and sentimentalist in  |
|Truth. But clear Truth is a thing for   |
|salamander giants only to encounter; how|
|small the chances for the provincials   |
|then? What befell the weakling youth    |
|lifting the dread goddess's veil at     |
|Lais? Now comes the Baling of the Case. |
|But to comprehend it aright, you must   |
|know something of the curious internal  |
|structure of the thing operated upon.   |
|Regarding the Sperm Whale's head as a   |
|solid oblong, you may, on an inclined   |
|plane, sideways divide it into two      |
|quoins,* whereof the lower is the bony  |
|structure, forming the cranium and jaws,|
|and the upper an unctuous mass wholly   |
|free from bones; its broad forward end  |
|forming the expanded vertical apparent  |
|forehead of the whale. At the middle    |
|of the forehead horizontally subdivide  |
|this upper quoin, and then you have two |
|almost equal parts, which before were   |
|naturally divided by an internal wall of|
|a thick tendinous substance. Quoin is   |
|not a Euclidean term. It belongs to the |
|pure nautical mathematics. I know not   |
|that it has been defined before. A quoin|
|is a solid which differs from a wedge   |
|in having its sharp end formed by the   |
|steep inclination of one side, instead  |
|of the mutual tapering of both sides.   |
|The lower subdivided part, called the   |
|junk, is one immense honeycomb of oil,  |
|formed by the crossing and recrossing,  |
|into ten thousand infiltrated cells, of |
|tough elastic white fibres throughout   |
|its whole extent. The upper part,       |
|known as the Case, may be regarded      |
|as the great Heidelburgh Tun of the     |
|Sperm Whale. And as that famous great   |
|tierce is mystically carved in front,   |
|so the whale's vast plaited forehead    |
|forms innumerable strange devices for   |
|the emblematical adornment of his       |
|wondrous tun. Moreover, as that of      |
|Heidelburgh was always replenished      |
|with the most excellent of the wines    |
|of the Rhenish valleys, so the tun of   |
|the whale contains by far the most      |
|precious of all his oily vintages;      |
|namely, the highly-prized spermaceti,   |
|in its absolutely pure, limpid, and     |
|odoriferous state. Nor is this precious |
|substance found unalloyed in any other  |
|part of the creature. Though in life    |
|it remains perfectly fluid, yet, upon   |
|exposure to the air, after death, it    |
|soon begins to concrete; sending forth  |
|beautiful crystalline shoots, as when   |
|the first thin delicate ice is just     |
|forming in water. A large whale's       |
|case generally yields about five        |
|hundred gallons of sperm, though from   |
|unavoidable circumstances, considerable |
|of it is spilled, leaks, and dribbles   |
|away, or is otherwise irrevocably       |
|lost in the ticklish business of        |
|securing what you can. I know not with  |
|what fine and costly material the       |
|Heidelburgh Tun was coated within, but  |
|in superlative richness that coating    |
|could not possibly have compared with   |
|the silken pearl-coloured membrane,     |
|like the lining of a fine pelisse,      |
|forming the inner surface of the Sperm  |
|Whale's case. It will have been seen    |
|that the Heidelburgh Tun of the Sperm   |
|Whale embraces the entire length of the |
|entire top of the head; and since--as   |
|has been elsewhere set forth--the       |
|head embraces one third of the whole    |
|length of the creature, then setting    |
|that length down at eighty feet for a   |
|good sized whale, you have more than    |
|twenty-six feet for the depth of the    |
|tun, when it is lengthwise hoisted up   |
|and down against a ship's side. As in   |
|decapitating the whale, the operator's  |
|instrument is brought close to the      |
|spot where an entrance is subsequently  |
|forced into the spermaceti magazine;    |
|he has, therefore, to be uncommonly     |
|heedful, lest a careless, untimely      |
|stroke should invade the sanctuary      |
|and wastingly let out its invaluable    |
|contents. It is this decapitated end    |
|of the head, also, which is at last     |
|elevated out of the water, and retained |
|in that position by the enormous cutting|
|tackles, whose hempen combinations, on  |
|one side, make quite a wilderness of    |
|ropes in that quarter. Thus much being  |
|said, attend now, I pray you, to that   |
|marvellous and--in this particular      |
|instance--almost fatal operation whereby|
|the Sperm Whale's great Heidelburgh Tun |
|is tapped. Nimble as a cat, Tashtego    |
|mounts aloft; and without altering his  |
|erect posture, runs straight out upon   |
|the overhanging mainyard-arm, to the    |
|part where it exactly projects over the |
|hoisted Tun. He has carried with him a  |
|light tackle called a whip, consisting  |
|of only two parts, travelling through   |
|a single-sheaved block. Securing        |
|this block, so that it hangs down       |
|from the yard-arm, he swings one end    |
|of the rope, till it is caught and      |
|firmly held by a hand on deck. Then,    |
|hand-over-hand, down the other part,    |
|the Indian drops through the air, till  |
|dexterously he lands on the summit of   |
|the head. There--still high elevated    |
|above the rest of the company, to whom  |
|he vivaciously cries--he seems some     |
|Turkish Muezzin calling the good people |
|to prayers from the top of a tower. A   |
|short-handled sharp spade being sent up |
|to him, he diligently searches for the  |
|proper place to begin breaking into the |
|Tun. In this business he proceeds very  |
|heedfully, like a treasure-hunter in    |
|some old house, sounding the walls to   |
|find where the gold is masoned in. By   |
|the time this cautious search is over,  |
|a stout iron-bound bucket, precisely    |
|like a well-bucket, has been attached   |
|to one end of the whip; while the other |
|end, being stretched across the deck, is|
|there held by two or three alert hands. |
|These last now hoist the bucket within  |
|grasp of the Indian, to whom another    |
|person has reached up a very long pole. |
|Inserting this pole into the bucket,    |
|Tashtego downward guides the bucket into|
|the Tun, till it entirely disappears;   |
|then giving the word to the seamen at   |
|the whip, up comes the bucket again,    |
|all bubbling like a dairy-maid's pail   |
|of new milk. Carefully lowered from     |
|its height, the full-freighted vessel   |
|is caught by an appointed hand, and     |
|quickly emptied into a large tub. Then  |
|remounting aloft, it again goes through |
|the same round until the deep cistern   |
|will yield no more. Towards the end,    |
|Tashtego has to ram his long pole harder|
|and harder, and deeper and deeper into  |
|the Tun, until some twenty feet of the  |
|pole have gone down. Now, the people of |
|the Pequod had been baling some time in |
|this way; several tubs had been filled  |
|with the fragrant sperm; when all at    |
|once a queer accident happened. Whether |
|it was that Tashtego, that wild Indian, |
|was so heedless and reckless as to let  |
|go for a moment his one-handed hold on  |
|the great cabled tackles suspending the |
|head; or whether the place where he     |
|stood was so treacherous and oozy; or   |
|whether the Evil One himself would have |
|it to fall out so, without stating his  |
|particular reasons; how it was exactly, |
|there is no telling now; but, on a      |
|sudden, as the eightieth or ninetieth   |
|bucket came suckingly up--my God! poor  |
|Tashtego--like the twin reciprocating   |
|bucket in a veritable well, dropped     |
|head-foremost down into this great Tun  |
|of Heidelburgh, and with a horrible     |
|oily gurgling, went clean out of sight! |
|"Man overboard!" cried Daggoo, who      |
|amid the general consternation first    |
|came to his senses. "Swing the bucket   |
|this way!" and putting one foot into    |
|it, so as the better to secure his      |
|slippery hand-hold on the whip itself,  |
|the hoisters ran him high up to the top |
|of the head, almost before Tashtego     |
|could have reached its interior bottom. |
|Meantime, there was a terrible tumult.  |
|Looking over the side, they saw the     |
|before lifeless head throbbing and      |
|heaving just below the surface of the   |
|sea, as if that moment seized with some |
|momentous idea; whereas it was only the |
|poor Indian unconsciously revealing by  |
|those struggles the perilous depth to   |
|which he had sunk. At this instant,     |
|while Daggoo, on the summit of the head,|
|was clearing the whip--which had somehow|
|got foul of the great cutting tackles--a|
|sharp cracking noise was heard; and to  |
|the unspeakable horror of all, one of   |
|the two enormous hooks suspending the   |
|head tore out, and with a vast vibration|
|the enormous mass sideways swung, till  |
|the drunk ship reeled and shook as if   |
|smitten by an iceberg. The one remaining|
|hook, upon which the entire strain now  |
|depended, seemed every instant to be on |
|the point of giving way; an event still |
|more likely from the violent motions of |
|the head. "Come down, come down!" yelled|
|the seamen to Daggoo, but with one      |
|hand holding on to the heavy tackles,   |
|so that if the head should drop, he     |
|would still remain suspended; the negro |
|having cleared the foul line, rammed    |
|down the bucket into the now collapsed  |
|well, meaning that the buried harpooneer|
|should grasp it, and so be hoisted out. |
|"In heaven's name, man," cried Stubb,   |
|"are you ramming home a cartridge       |
|there?--Avast! How will that help him;  |
|jamming that iron-bound bucket on top   |
|of his head? Avast, will ye!" "Stand    |
|clear of the tackle!" cried a voice like|
|the bursting of a rocket. Almost in the |
|same instant, with a thunder-boom, the  |
|enormous mass dropped into the sea, like|
|Niagara's Table-Rock into the whirlpool;|
|the suddenly relieved hull rolled away  |
|from it, to far down her glittering     |
|copper; and all caught their breath, as |
|half swinging--now over the sailors'    |
|heads, and now over the water--Daggoo,  |
|through a thick mist of spray, was      |
|dimly beheld clinging to the pendulous  |
|tackles, while poor, buried-alive       |
|Tashtego was sinking utterly down to    |
|the bottom of the sea! But hardly had   |
|the blinding vapour cleared away, when  |
|a naked figure with a boarding-sword    |
|in his hand, was for one swift moment   |
|seen hovering over the bulwarks. The    |
|next, a loud splash announced that my   |
|brave Queequeg had dived to the rescue. |
|One packed rush was made to the side,   |
|and every eye counted every ripple, as  |
|moment followed moment, and no sign of  |
|either the sinker or the diver could be |
|seen. Some hands now jumped into a boat |
|alongside, and pushed a little off from |
|the ship. "Ha! ha!" cried Daggoo, all at|
|once, from his now quiet, swinging perch|
|overhead; and looking further off from  |
|the side, we saw an arm thrust upright  |
|from the blue waves; a sight strange to |
|see, as an arm thrust forth from the    |
|grass over a grave. "Both! both!--it    |
|is both!"--cried Daggoo again with a    |
|joyful shout; and soon after, Queequeg  |
|was seen boldly striking out with one   |
|hand, and with the other clutching the  |
|long hair of the Indian. Drawn into     |
|the waiting boat, they were quickly     |
|brought to the deck; but Tashtego was   |
|long in coming to, and Queequeg did     |
|not look very brisk. Now, how had this  |
|noble rescue been accomplished? Why,    |
|diving after the slowly descending      |
|head, Queequeg with his keen sword had  |
|made side lunges near its bottom, so    |
|as to scuttle a large hole there; then  |
|dropping his sword, had thrust his      |
|long arm far inwards and upwards, and   |
|so hauled out poor Tash by the head.    |
|He averred, that upon first thrusting   |
|in for him, a leg was presented; but    |
|well knowing that that was not as it    |
|ought to be, and might occasion great   |
|trouble;--he had thrust back the leg,   |
|and by a dexterous heave and toss, had  |
|wrought a somerset upon the Indian; so  |
|that with the next trial, he came forth |
|in the good old way--head foremost. As  |
|for the great head itself, that was     |
|doing as well as could be expected. And |
|thus, through the courage and great     |
|skill in obstetrics of Queequeg, the    |
|deliverance, or rather, delivery of     |
|Tashtego, was successfully accomplished,|
|in the teeth, too, of the most untoward |
|and apparently hopeless impediments;    |
|which is a lesson by no means to be     |
|forgotten. Midwifery should be taught   |
|in the same course with fencing and     |
|boxing, riding and rowing. I know that  |
|this queer adventure of the Gay-Header's|
|will be sure to seem incredible to      |
|some landsmen, though they themselves   |
|may have either seen or heard of some   |
|one's falling into a cistern ashore;    |
|an accident which not seldom happens,   |
|and with much less reason too than the  |
|Indian's, considering the exceeding     |
|slipperiness of the curb of the Sperm   |
|Whale's well. But, peradventure, it may |
|be sagaciously urged, how is this? We   |
|thought the tissued, infiltrated head of|
|the Sperm Whale, was the lightest and   |
|most corky part about him; and yet thou |
|makest it sink in an element of a far   |
|greater specific gravity than itself.   |
|We have thee there. Not at all, but I   |
|have ye; for at the time poor Tash fell |
|in, the case had been nearly emptied of |
|its lighter contents, leaving little but|
|the dense tendinous wall of the well--a |
|double welded, hammered substance, as   |
|I have before said, much heavier than   |
|the sea water, and a lump of which      |
|sinks in it like lead almost. But the   |
|tendency to rapid sinking in this       |
|substance was in the present instance   |
|materially counteracted by the other    |
|parts of the head remaining undetached  |
|from it, so that it sank very slowly    |
|and deliberately indeed, affording      |
|Queequeg a fair chance for performing   |
|his agile obstetrics on the run, as     |
|you may say. Yes, it was a running      |
|delivery, so it was. Now, had Tashtego  |
|perished in that head, it had been a    |
|very precious perishing; smothered      |
|in the very whitest and daintiest of    |
|fragrant spermaceti; coffined, hearsed, |
|and tombed in the secret inner chamber  |
|and sanctum sanctorum of the whale.     |
|Only one sweeter end can readily be     |
|recalled--the delicious death of an     |
|Ohio honey-hunter, who seeking honey    |
|in the crotch of a hollow tree, found   |
|such exceeding store of it, that leaning|
|too far over, it sucked him in, so that |
|he died embalmed. How many, think ye,   |
|have likewise fallen into Plato's honey |
|head, and sweetly perished there? To    |
|scan the lines of his face, or feel the |
|bumps on the head of this Leviathan;    |
|this is a thing which no Physiognomist  |
|or Phrenologist has as yet undertaken.  |
|Such an enterprise would seem almost    |
|as hopeful as for Lavater to have       |
|scrutinized the wrinkles on the Rock of |
|Gibraltar, or for Gall to have mounted  |
|a ladder and manipulated the Dome of    |
|the Pantheon. Still, in that famous     |
|work of his, Lavater not only treats    |
|of the various faces of men, but also   |
|attentively studies the faces of horses,|
|birds, serpents, and fish; and dwells   |
|in detail upon the modifications of     |
|expression discernible therein. Nor have|
|Gall and his disciple Spurzheim failed  |
|to throw out some hints touching the    |
|phrenological characteristics of other  |
|beings than man. Therefore, though I am |
|but ill qualified for a pioneer, in the |
|application of these two semi-sciences  |
|to the whale, I will do my endeavor. I  |
|try all things; I achieve what I can.   |
|Physiognomically regarded, the Sperm    |
|Whale is an anomalous creature. He has  |
|no proper nose. And since the nose is   |
|the central and most conspicuous of the |
|features; and since it perhaps most     |
|modifies and finally controls their     |
|combined expression; hence it would     |
|seem that its entire absence, as an     |
|external appendage, must very largely   |
|affect the countenance of the whale.    |
|For as in landscape gardening, a spire, |
|cupola, monument, or tower of some sort,|
|is deemed almost indispensable to the   |
|completion of the scene; so no face can |
|be physiognomically in keeping without  |
|the elevated open-work belfry of the    |
|nose. Dash the nose from Phidias's      |
|marble Jove, and what a sorry remainder!|
|Nevertheless, Leviathan is of so mighty |
|a magnitude, all his proportions are so |
|stately, that the same deficiency which |
|in the sculptured Jove were hideous,    |
|in him is no blemish at all. Nay, it    |
|is an added grandeur. A nose to the     |
|whale would have been impertinent. As   |
|on your physiognomical voyage you sail  |
|round his vast head in your jolly-boat, |
|your noble conceptions of him are never |
|insulted by the reflection that he      |
|has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent    |
|conceit, which so often will insist     |
|upon obtruding even when beholding the  |
|mightiest royal beadle on his throne.   |
|In some particulars, perhaps the most   |
|imposing physiognomical view to be had  |
|of the Sperm Whale, is that of the      |
|full front of his head. This aspect is  |
|sublime. In thought, a fine human brow  |
|is like the East when troubled with the |
|morning. In the repose of the pasture,  |
|the curled brow of the bull has a touch |
|of the grand in it. Pushing heavy cannon|
|up mountain defiles, the elephant's     |
|brow is majestic. Human or animal, the  |
|mystical brow is as that great golden   |
|seal affixed by the German Emperors     |
|to their decrees. It signifies--"God:   |
|done this day by my hand." But in most  |
|creatures, nay in man himself, very     |
|often the brow is but a mere strip      |
|of alpine land lying along the snow     |
|line. Few are the foreheads which like  |
|Shakespeare's or Melancthon's rise so   |
|high, and descend so low, that the eyes |
|themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless|
|mountain lakes; and all above them in   |
|the forehead's wrinkles, you seem to    |
|track the antlered thoughts descending  |
|there to drink, as the Highland hunters |
|track the snow prints of the deer. But  |
|in the great Sperm Whale, this high     |
|and mighty god-like dignity inherent    |
|in the brow is so immensely amplified,  |
|that gazing on it, in that full front   |
|view, you feel the Deity and the dread  |
|powers more forcibly than in beholding  |
|any other object in living nature. For  |
|you see no one point precisely; not     |
|one distinct feature is revealed; no    |
|nose, eyes, ears, or mouth; no face; he |
|has none, proper; nothing but that one  |
|broad firmament of a forehead, pleated  |
|with riddles; dumbly lowering with the  |
|doom of boats, and ships, and men. Nor, |
|in profile, does this wondrous brow     |
|diminish; though that way viewed its    |
|grandeur does not domineer upon you so. |
|In profile, you plainly perceive that   |
|horizontal, semi-crescentic depression  |
|in the forehead's middle, which, in     |
|man, is Lavater's mark of genius. But   |
|how? Genius in the Sperm Whale? Has     |
|the Sperm Whale ever written a book,    |
|spoken a speech? No, his great genius is|
|declared in his doing nothing particular|
|to prove it. It is moreover declared    |
|in his pyramidical silence. And this    |
|reminds me that had the great Sperm     |
|Whale been known to the young Orient    |
|World, he would have been deified by    |
|their child-magian thoughts. They       |
|deified the crocodile of the Nile,      |
|because the crocodile is tongueless; and|
|the Sperm Whale has no tongue, or at    |
|least it is so exceedingly small, as to |
|be incapable of protrusion. If hereafter|
|any highly cultured, poetical nation    |
|shall lure back to their birth-right,   |
|the merry May-day gods of old; and      |
|livingly enthrone them again in the now |
|egotistical sky; in the now unhaunted   |
|hill; then be sure, exalted to Jove's   |
|high seat, the great Sperm Whale shall  |
|lord it. Champollion deciphered the     |
|wrinkled granite hieroglyphics. But     |
|there is no Champollion to decipher     |
|the Egypt of every man's and every      |
|being's face. Physiognomy, like every   |
|other human science, is but a passing   |
|fable. If then, Sir William Jones, who  |
|read in thirty languages, could not     |
|read the simplest peasant's face in its |
|profounder and more subtle meanings,    |
|how may unlettered Ishmael hope to      |
|read the awful Chaldee of the Sperm     |
|Whale's brow? I but put that brow before|
|you. Read it if you can. If the Sperm   |
|Whale be physiognomically a Sphinx,     |
|to the phrenologist his brain seems     |
|that geometrical circle which it is     |
|impossible to square. In the full-grown |
|creature the skull will measure at least|
|twenty feet in length. Unhinge the      |
|lower jaw, and the side view of this    |
|skull is as the side of a moderately    |
|inclined plane resting throughout on    |
|a level base. But in life--as we have   |
|elsewhere seen--this inclined plane is  |
|angularly filled up, and almost squared |
|by the enormous superincumbent mass of  |
|the junk and sperm. At the high end     |
|the skull forms a crater to bed that    |
|part of the mass; while under the long  |
|floor of this crater--in another cavity |
|seldom exceeding ten inches in length   |
|and as many in depth--reposes the mere  |
|handful of this monster's brain. The    |
|brain is at least twenty feet from      |
|his apparent forehead in life; it is    |
|hidden away behind its vast outworks,   |
|like the innermost citadel within the   |
|amplified fortifications of Quebec. So  |
|like a choice casket is it secreted in  |
|him, that I have known some whalemen    |
|who peremptorily deny that the Sperm    |
|Whale has any other brain than that     |
|palpable semblance of one formed by     |
|the cubic-yards of his sperm magazine.  |
|Lying in strange folds, courses, and    |
|convolutions, to their apprehensions,   |
|it seems more in keeping with the idea  |
|of his general might to regard that     |
|mystic part of him as the seat of       |
|his intelligence. It is plain, then,    |
|that phrenologically the head of this   |
|Leviathan, in the creature's living     |
|intact state, is an entire delusion. As |
|for his true brain, you can then see no |
|indications of it, nor feel any. The    |
|whale, like all things that are mighty, |
|wears a false brow to the common world. |
|If you unload his skull of its spermy   |
|heaps and then take a rear view of its  |
|rear end, which is the high end, you    |
|will be struck by its resemblance to    |
|the human skull, beheld in the same     |
|situation, and from the same point of   |
|view. Indeed, place this reversed skull |
|(scaled down to the human magnitude)    |
|among a plate of men's skulls, and you  |
|would involuntarily confound it with    |
|them; and remarking the depressions on  |
|one part of its summit, in phrenological|
|phrase you would say--This man had no   |
|self-esteem, and no veneration. And by  |
|those negations, considered along with  |
|the affirmative fact of his prodigious  |
|bulk and power, you can best form to    |
|yourself the truest, though not the most|
|exhilarating conception of what the most|
|exalted potency is. But if from the     |
|comparative dimensions of the whale's   |
|proper brain, you deem it incapable of  |
|being adequately charted, then I have   |
|another idea for you. If you attentively|
|regard almost any quadruped's spine, you|
|will be struck with the resemblance of  |
|its vertebrae to a strung necklace of   |
|dwarfed skulls, all bearing rudimental  |
|resemblance to the skull proper. It is  |
|a German conceit, that the vertebrae    |
|are absolutely undeveloped skulls. But  |
|the curious external resemblance, I     |
|take it the Germans were not the first  |
|men to perceive. A foreign friend once  |
|pointed it out to me, in the skeleton   |
|of a foe he had slain, and with the     |
|vertebrae of which he was inlaying, in  |
|a sort of basso-relievo, the beaked     |
|prow of his canoe. Now, I consider      |
|that the phrenologists have omitted an  |
|important thing in not pushing their    |
|investigations from the cerebellum      |
|through the spinal canal. For I believe |
|that much of a man's character will     |
|be found betokened in his backbone.     |
|I would rather feel your spine than     |
|your skull, whoever you are. A thin     |
|joist of a spine never yet upheld a     |
|full and noble soul. I rejoice in my    |
|spine, as in the firm audacious staff   |
|of that flag which I fling half out to  |
|the world. Apply this spinal branch     |
|of phrenology to the Sperm Whale. His   |
|cranial cavity is continuous with       |
|the first neck-vertebra; and in that    |
|vertebra the bottom of the spinal canal |
|will measure ten inches across, being   |
|eight in height, and of a triangular    |
|figure with the base downwards. As it   |
|passes through the remaining vertebrae  |
|the canal tapers in size, but for a     |
|considerable distance remains of large  |
|capacity. Now, of course, this canal    |
|is filled with much the same strangely  |
|fibrous substance--the spinal cord--as  |
|the brain; and directly communicates    |
|with the brain. And what is still more, |
|for many feet after emerging from the   |
|brain's cavity, the spinal cord remains |
|of an undecreasing girth, almost equal  |
|to that of the brain. Under all these   |
|circumstances, would it be unreasonable |
|to survey and map out the whale's       |
|spine phrenologically? For, viewed in   |
|this light, the wonderful comparative   |
|smallness of his brain proper is more   |
|than compensated by the wonderful       |
|comparative magnitude of his spinal     |
|cord. But leaving this hint to operate  |
|as it may with the phrenologists, I     |
|would merely assume the spinal theory   |
|for a moment, in reference to the Sperm |
|Whale's hump. This august hump, if I    |
|mistake not, rises over one of the      |
|larger vertebrae, and is, therefore, in |
|some sort, the outer convex mould of    |
|it. From its relative situation then,   |
|I should call this high hump the organ  |
|of firmness or indomitableness in the   |
|Sperm Whale. And that the great monster |
|is indomitable, you will yet have reason|
|to know. The predestinated day arrived, |
|and we duly met the ship Jungfrau,      |
|Derick De Deer, master, of Bremen. At   |
|one time the greatest whaling people    |
|in the world, the Dutch and Germans     |
|are now among the least; but here and   |
|there at very wide intervals of latitude|
|and longitude, you still occasionally   |
|meet with their flag in the Pacific.    |
|For some reason, the Jungfrau seemed    |
|quite eager to pay her respects. While  |
|yet some distance from the Pequod,      |
|she rounded to, and dropping a boat,    |
|her captain was impelled towards us,    |
|impatiently standing in the bows instead|
|of the stern. "What has he in his hand  |
|there?" cried Starbuck, pointing to     |
|something wavingly held by the German.  |
|"Impossible!--a lamp-feeder!" "Not      |
|that," said Stubb, "no, no, it's a      |
|coffee-pot, Mr. Starbuck; he's coming   |
|off to make us our coffee, is the       |
|Yarman; don't you see that big tin can  |
|there alongside of him?--that's his     |
|boiling water. Oh! he's all right,      |
|is the Yarman." "Go along with you,"    |
|cried Flask, "it's a lamp-feeder and    |
|an oil-can. He's out of oil, and has    |
|come a-begging." However curious it may |
|seem for an oil-ship to be borrowing    |
|oil on the whale-ground, and however    |
|much it may invertedly contradict the   |
|old proverb about carrying coals to     |
|Newcastle, yet sometimes such a thing   |
|really happens; and in the present case |
|Captain Derick De Deer did indubitably  |
|conduct a lamp-feeder as Flask did      |
|declare. As he mounted the deck, Ahab   |
|abruptly accosted him, without at all   |
|heeding what he had in his hand; but    |
|in his broken lingo, the German soon    |
|evinced his complete ignorance of the   |
|White Whale; immediately turning the    |
|conversation to his lamp-feeder and oil |
|can, with some remarks touching his     |
|having to turn into his hammock at night|
|in profound darkness--his last drop of  |
|Bremen oil being gone, and not a single |
|flying-fish yet captured to supply the  |
|deficiency; concluding by hinting that  |
|his ship was indeed what in the Fishery |
|is technically called a CLEAN one (that |
|is, an empty one), well deserving the   |
|name of Jungfrau or the Virgin. His     |
|necessities supplied, Derick departed;  |
|but he had not gained his ship's side,  |
|when whales were almost simultaneously  |
|raised from the mast-heads of both      |
|vessels; and so eager for the chase was |
|Derick, that without pausing to put     |
|his oil-can and lamp-feeder aboard, he  |
|slewed round his boat and made after    |
|the leviathan lamp-feeders. Now, the    |
|game having risen to leeward, he and    |
|the other three German boats that soon  |
|followed him, had considerably the      |
|start of the Pequod's keels. There      |
|were eight whales, an average pod.      |
|Aware of their danger, they were going  |
|all abreast with great speed straight   |
|before the wind, rubbing their flanks   |
|as closely as so many spans of horses   |
|in harness. They left a great, wide     |
|wake, as though continually unrolling a |
|great wide parchment upon the sea. Full |
|in this rapid wake, and many fathoms    |
|in the rear, swam a huge, humped old    |
|bull, which by his comparatively slow   |
|progress, as well as by the unusual     |
|yellowish incrustations overgrowing him,|
|seemed afflicted with the jaundice,     |
|or some other infirmity. Whether this   |
|whale belonged to the pod in advance,   |
|seemed questionable; for it is not      |
|customary for such venerable leviathans |
|to be at all social. Nevertheless, he   |
|stuck to their wake, though indeed      |
|their back water must have retarded     |
|him, because the white-bone or swell    |
|at his broad muzzle was a dashed one,   |
|like the swell formed when two hostile  |
|currents meet. His spout was short,     |
|slow, and laborious; coming forth with  |
|a choking sort of gush, and spending    |
|itself in torn shreds, followed by      |
|strange subterranean commotions in him, |
|which seemed to have egress at his other|
|buried extremity, causing the waters    |
|behind him to upbubble. "Who's got some |
|paregoric?" said Stubb, "he has the     |
|stomach-ache, I'm afraid. Lord, think   |
|of having half an acre of stomach-ache! |
|Adverse winds are holding mad Christmas |
|in him, boys. It's the first foul wind  |
|I ever knew to blow from astern; but    |
|look, did ever whale yaw so before? it  |
|must be, he's lost his tiller." As an   |
|overladen Indiaman bearing down the     |
|Hindostan coast with a deck load of     |
|frightened horses, careens, buries,     |
|rolls, and wallows on her way; so did   |
|this old whale heave his aged bulk, and |
|now and then partly turning over on his |
|cumbrous rib-ends, expose the cause     |
|of his devious wake in the unnatural    |
|stump of his starboard fin. Whether he  |
|had lost that fin in battle, or had     |
|been born without it, it were hard to   |
|say. "Only wait a bit, old chap, and    |
|I'll give ye a sling for that wounded   |
|arm," cried cruel Flask, pointing to    |
|the whale-line near him. "Mind he don't |
|sling thee with it," cried Starbuck.    |
|"Give way, or the German will have him."|
|With one intent all the combined rival  |
|boats were pointed for this one fish,   |
|because not only was he the largest,    |
|and therefore the most valuable whale,  |
|but he was nearest to them, and the     |
|other whales were going with such great |
|velocity, moreover, as almost to defy   |
|pursuit for the time. At this juncture  |
|the Pequod's keels had shot by the three|
|German boats last lowered; but from     |
|the great start he had had, Derick's    |
|boat still led the chase, though every  |
|moment neared by his foreign rivals.    |
|The only thing they feared, was, that   |
|from being already so nigh to his mark, |
|he would be enabled to dart his iron    |
|before they could completely overtake   |
|and pass him. As for Derick, he seemed  |
|quite confident that this would be      |
|the case, and occasionally with a       |
|deriding gesture shook his lamp-feeder  |
|at the other boats. "The ungracious     |
|and ungrateful dog!" cried Starbuck;    |
|"he mocks and dares me with the very    |
|poor-box I filled for him not five      |
|minutes ago!"--then in his old intense  |
|whisper--"Give way, greyhounds! Dog to  |
|it!" "I tell ye what it is, men"--cried |
|Stubb to his crew--"it's against my     |
|religion to get mad; but I'd like to    |
|eat that villainous Yarman--Pull--won't |
|ye? Are ye going to let that rascal     |
|beat ye? Do ye love brandy? A hogshead  |
|of brandy, then, to the best man.       |
|Come, why don't some of ye burst a      |
|blood-vessel? Who's that been dropping  |
|an anchor overboard--we don't budge an  |
|inch--we're becalmed. Halloo, here's    |
|grass growing in the boat's bottom--and |
|by the Lord, the mast there's budding.  |
|This won't do, boys. Look at that       |
|Yarman! The short and long of it is,    |
|men, will ye spit fire or not?" "Oh!    |
|see the suds he makes!" cried Flask,    |
|dancing up and down--"What a hump--Oh,  |
|DO pile on the beef--lays like a log!   |
|Oh! my lads, DO spring--slap-jacks      |
|and quahogs for supper, you know, my    |
|lads--baked clams and muffins--oh,      |
|DO, DO, spring,--he's a hundred         |
|barreller--don't lose him now--don't    |
|oh, DON'T!--see that Yarman--Oh, won't  |
|ye pull for your duff, my lads--such a  |
|sog! such a sogger! Don't ye love sperm?|
|There goes three thousand dollars,      |
|men!--a bank!--a whole bank! The bank   |
|of England!--Oh, DO, DO, DO!--What's    |
|that Yarman about now?" At this moment  |
|Derick was in the act of pitching his   |
|lamp-feeder at the advancing boats,     |
|and also his oil-can; perhaps with the  |
|double view of retarding his rivals'    |
|way, and at the same time economically  |
|accelerating his own by the momentary   |
|impetus of the backward toss. "The      |
|unmannerly Dutch dogger!" cried Stubb.  |
|"Pull now, men, like fifty thousand     |
|line-of-battle-ship loads of red-haired |
|devils. What d'ye say, Tashtego; are    |
|you the man to snap your spine in       |
|two-and-twenty pieces for the honour of |
|old Gayhead? What d'ye say?" "I say,    |
|pull like god-dam,"--cried the Indian.  |
|Fiercely, but evenly incited by the     |
|taunts of the German, the Pequod's three|
|boats now began ranging almost abreast; |
|and, so disposed, momentarily neared    |
|him. In that fine, loose, chivalrous    |
|attitude of the headsman when drawing   |
|near to his prey, the three mates stood |
|up proudly, occasionally backing the    |
|after oarsman with an exhilarating cry  |
|of, "There she slides, now! Hurrah for  |
|the white-ash breeze! Down with the     |
|Yarman! Sail over him!" But so decided  |
|an original start had Derick had, that  |
|spite of all their gallantry, he would  |
|have proved the victor in this race,    |
|had not a righteous judgment descended  |
|upon him in a crab which caught the     |
|blade of his midship oarsman. While this|
|clumsy lubber was striving to free his  |
|white-ash, and while, in consequence,   |
|Derick's boat was nigh to capsizing,    |
|and he thundering away at his men in    |
|a mighty rage;--that was a good time    |
|for Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. With    |
|a shout, they took a mortal start       |
|forwards, and slantingly ranged up on   |
|the German's quarter. An instant more,  |
|and all four boats were diagonically    |
|in the whale's immediate wake, while    |
|stretching from them, on both sides, was|
|the foaming swell that he made. It was a|
|terrific, most pitiable, and maddening  |
|sight. The whale was now going head out,|
|and sending his spout before him in a   |
|continual tormented jet; while his one  |
|poor fin beat his side in an agony of   |
|fright. Now to this hand, now to that,  |
|he yawed in his faltering flight, and   |
|still at every billow that he broke,    |
|he spasmodically sank in the sea, or    |
|sideways rolled towards the sky his one |
|beating fin. So have I seen a bird with |
|clipped wing making affrighted broken   |
|circles in the air, vainly striving to  |
|escape the piratical hawks. But the     |
|bird has a voice, and with plaintive    |
|cries will make known her fear; but the |
|fear of this vast dumb brute of the     |
|sea, was chained up and enchanted in    |
|him; he had no voice, save that choking |
|respiration through his spiracle, and   |
|this made the sight of him unspeakably  |
|pitiable; while still, in his amazing   |
|bulk, portcullis jaw, and omnipotent    |
|tail, there was enough to appal the     |
|stoutest man who so pitied. Seeing now  |
|that but a very few moments more would  |
|give the Pequod's boats the advantage,  |
|and rather than be thus foiled of his   |
|game, Derick chose to hazard what to    |
|him must have seemed a most unusually   |
|long dart, ere the last chance would    |
|for ever escape. But no sooner did his  |
|harpooneer stand up for the stroke, than|
|all three tigers--Queequeg, Tashtego,   |
|Daggoo--instinctively sprang to their   |
|feet, and standing in a diagonal row,   |
|simultaneously pointed their barbs;     |
|and darted over the head of the German  |
|harpooneer, their three Nantucket irons |
|entered the whale. Blinding vapours of  |
|foam and white-fire! The three boats, in|
|the first fury of the whale's headlong  |
|rush, bumped the German's aside with    |
|such force, that both Derick and his    |
|baffled harpooneer were spilled out, and|
|sailed over by the three flying keels.  |
|"Don't be afraid, my butter-boxes,"     |
|cried Stubb, casting a passing glance   |
|upon them as he shot by; "ye'll be      |
|picked up presently--all right--I saw   |
|some sharks astern--St. Bernard's dogs, |
|you know--relieve distressed travellers.|
|Hurrah! this is the way to sail now.    |
|Every keel a sunbeam! Hurrah!--Here we  |
|go like three tin kettles at the tail of|
|a mad cougar! This puts me in mind of   |
|fastening to an elephant in a tilbury   |
|on a plain--makes the wheel-spokes fly, |
|boys, when you fasten to him that way;  |
|and there's danger of being pitched out |
|too, when you strike a hill. Hurrah!    |
|this is the way a fellow feels when he's|
|going to Davy Jones--all a rush down an |
|endless inclined plane! Hurrah! this    |
|whale carries the everlasting mail!"    |
|But the monster's run was a brief one.  |
|Giving a sudden gasp, he tumultuously   |
|sounded. With a grating rush, the three |
|lines flew round the loggerheads with   |
|such a force as to gouge deep grooves   |
|in them; while so fearful were the      |
|harpooneers that this rapid sounding    |
|would soon exhaust the lines, that      |
|using all their dexterous might, they   |
|caught repeated smoking turns with the  |
|rope to hold on; till at last--owing    |
|to the perpendicular strain from the    |
|lead-lined chocks of the boats, whence  |
|the three ropes went straight down into |
|the blue--the gunwales of the bows were |
|almost even with the water, while the   |
|three sterns tilted high in the air.    |
|And the whale soon ceasing to sound,    |
|for some time they remained in that     |
|attitude, fearful of expending more     |
|line, though the position was a little  |
|ticklish. But though boats have been    |
|taken down and lost in this way, yet it |
|is this "holding on," as it is called;  |
|this hooking up by the sharp barbs of   |
|his live flesh from the back; this it   |
|is that often torments the Leviathan    |
|into soon rising again to meet the sharp|
|lance of his foes. Yet not to speak of  |
|the peril of the thing, it is to be     |
|doubted whether this course is always   |
|the best; for it is but reasonable to   |
|presume, that the longer the stricken   |
|whale stays under water, the more he    |
|is exhausted. Because, owing to the     |
|enormous surface of him--in a full      |
|grown sperm whale something less than   |
|2000 square feet--the pressure of the   |
|water is immense. We all know what      |
|an astonishing atmospheric weight we    |
|ourselves stand up under; even here,    |
|above-ground, in the air; how vast,     |
|then, the burden of a whale, bearing    |
|on his back a column of two hundred     |
|fathoms of ocean! It must at least equal|
|the weight of fifty atmospheres. One    |
|whaleman has estimated it at the weight |
|of twenty line-of-battle ships, with    |
|all their guns, and stores, and men on  |
|board. As the three boats lay there on  |
|that gently rolling sea, gazing down    |
|into its eternal blue noon; and as not  |
|a single groan or cry of any sort, nay, |
|not so much as a ripple or a bubble     |
|came up from its depths; what landsman  |
|would have thought, that beneath all    |
|that silence and placidity, the utmost  |
|monster of the seas was writhing and    |
|wrenching in agony! Not eight inches of |
|perpendicular rope were visible at the  |
|bows. Seems it credible that by three   |
|such thin threads the great Leviathan   |
|was suspended like the big weight to    |
|an eight day clock. Suspended? and to   |
|what? To three bits of board. Is this   |
|the creature of whom it was once so     |
|triumphantly said--"Canst thou fill his |
|skin with barbed irons? or his head     |
|with fish-spears? The sword of him      |
|that layeth at him cannot hold, the     |
|spear, the dart, nor the habergeon:     |
|he esteemeth iron as straw; the arrow   |
|cannot make him flee; darts are counted |
|as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking  |
|of a spear!" This the creature? this he?|
|Oh! that unfulfilments should follow the|
|prophets. For with the strength of a    |
|thousand thighs in his tail, Leviathan  |
|had run his head under the mountains of |
|the sea, to hide him from the Pequod's  |
|fish-spears! In that sloping afternoon  |
|sunlight, the shadows that the three    |
|boats sent down beneath the surface,    |
|must have been long enough and broad    |
|enough to shade half Xerxes' army. Who  |
|can tell how appalling to the wounded   |
|whale must have been such huge phantoms |
|flitting over his head! "Stand by,      |
|men; he stirs," cried Starbuck, as the  |
|three lines suddenly vibrated in the    |
|water, distinctly conducting upwards to |
|them, as by magnetic wires, the life    |
|and death throbs of the whale, so that  |
|every oarsman felt them in his seat.    |
|The next moment, relieved in great part |
|from the downward strain at the bows,   |
|the boats gave a sudden bounce upwards, |
|as a small icefield will, when a dense  |
|herd of white bears are scared from     |
|it into the sea. "Haul in! Haul in!"    |
|cried Starbuck again; "he's rising."    |
|The lines, of which, hardly an instant  |
|before, not one hand's breadth could    |
|have been gained, were now in long      |
|quick coils flung back all dripping     |
|into the boats, and soon the whale      |
|broke water within two ship's lengths   |
|of the hunters. His motions plainly     |
|denoted his extreme exhaustion. In most |
|land animals there are certain valves   |
|or flood-gates in many of their veins,  |
|whereby when wounded, the blood is in   |
|some degree at least instantly shut     |
|off in certain directions. Not so with  |
|the whale; one of whose peculiarities   |
|it is to have an entire non-valvular    |
|structure of the blood-vessels, so      |
|that when pierced even by so small a    |
|point as a harpoon, a deadly drain is   |
|at once begun upon his whole arterial   |
|system; and when this is heightened by  |
|the extraordinary pressure of water at  |
|a great distance below the surface, his |
|life may be said to pour from him in    |
|incessant streams. Yet so vast is the   |
|quantity of blood in him, and so distant|
|and numerous its interior fountains,    |
|that he will keep thus bleeding and     |
|bleeding for a considerable period;     |
|even as in a drought a river will flow, |
|whose source is in the well-springs of  |
|far-off and undiscernible hills. Even   |
|now, when the boats pulled upon this    |
|whale, and perilously drew over his     |
|swaying flukes, and the lances were     |
|darted into him, they were followed by  |
|steady jets from the new made wound,    |
|which kept continually playing, while   |
|the natural spout-hole in his head      |
|was only at intervals, however rapid,   |
|sending its affrighted moisture into    |
|the air. From this last vent no blood   |
|yet came, because no vital part of      |
|him had thus far been struck. His       |
|life, as they significantly call it,    |
|was untouched. As the boats now more    |
|closely surrounded him, the whole upper |
|part of his form, with much of it that  |
|is ordinarily submerged, was plainly    |
|revealed. His eyes, or rather the places|
|where his eyes had been, were beheld.   |
|As strange misgrown masses gather in    |
|the knot-holes of the noblest oaks when |
|prostrate, so from the points which the |
|whale's eyes had once occupied, now     |
|protruded blind bulbs, horribly pitiable|
|to see. But pity there was none. For    |
|all his old age, and his one arm, and   |
|his blind eyes, he must die the death   |
|and be murdered, in order to light the  |
|gay bridals and other merry-makings of  |
|men, and also to illuminate the solemn  |
|churches that preach unconditional      |
|inoffensiveness by all to all. Still    |
|rolling in his blood, at last he        |
|partially disclosed a strangely         |
|discoloured bunch or protuberance, the  |
|size of a bushel, low down on the flank.|
|"A nice spot," cried Flask; "just let me|
|prick him there once." "Avast!" cried   |
|Starbuck, "there's no need of that!" But|
|humane Starbuck was too late. At the    |
|instant of the dart an ulcerous jet shot|
|from this cruel wound, and goaded by it |
|into more than sufferable anguish, the  |
|whale now spouting thick blood, with    |
|swift fury blindly darted at the craft, |
|bespattering them and their glorying    |
|crews all over with showers of gore,    |
|capsizing Flask's boat and marring the  |
|bows. It was his death stroke. For, by  |
|this time, so spent was he by loss of   |
|blood, that he helplessly rolled away   |
|from the wreck he had made; lay panting |
|on his side, impotently flapped with his|
|stumped fin, then over and over slowly  |
|revolved like a waning world; turned up |
|the white secrets of his belly; lay like|
|a log, and died. It was most piteous,   |
|that last expiring spout. As when by    |
|unseen hands the water is gradually     |
|drawn off from some mighty fountain,    |
|and with half-stifled melancholy        |
|gurglings the spray-column lowers and   |
|lowers to the ground--so the last long  |
|dying spout of the whale. Soon, while   |
|the crews were awaiting the arrival of  |
|the ship, the body showed symptoms of   |
|sinking with all its treasures unrifled.|
|Immediately, by Starbuck's orders, lines|
|were secured to it at different points, |
|so that ere long every boat was a buoy; |
|the sunken whale being suspended a few  |
|inches beneath them by the cords. By    |
|very heedful management, when the ship  |
|drew nigh, the whale was transferred    |
|to her side, and was strongly secured   |
|there by the stiffest fluke-chains, for |
|it was plain that unless artificially   |
|upheld, the body would at once sink to  |
|the bottom. It so chanced that almost   |
|upon first cutting into him with the    |
|spade, the entire length of a corroded  |
|harpoon was found imbedded in his flesh,|
|on the lower part of the bunch before   |
|described. But as the stumps of harpoons|
|are frequently found in the dead bodies |
|of captured whales, with the flesh      |
|perfectly healed around them, and no    |
|prominence of any kind to denote their  |
|place; therefore, there must needs have |
|been some other unknown reason in the   |
|present case fully to account for the   |
|ulceration alluded to. But still more   |
|curious was the fact of a lance-head of |
|stone being found in him, not far from  |
|the buried iron, the flesh perfectly    |
|firm about it. Who had darted that      |
|stone lance? And when? It might have    |
|been darted by some Nor' West Indian    |
|long before America was discovered.     |
|What other marvels might have been      |
|rummaged out of this monstrous cabinet  |
|there is no telling. But a sudden stop  |
|was put to further discoveries, by the  |
|ship's being unprecedentedly dragged    |
|over sideways to the sea, owing to the  |
|body's immensely increasing tendency to |
|sink. However, Starbuck, who had the    |
|ordering of affairs, hung on to it to   |
|the last; hung on to it so resolutely,  |
|indeed, that when at length the ship    |
|would have been capsized, if still      |
|persisting in locking arms with the     |
|body; then, when the command was given  |
|to break clear from it, such was the    |
|immovable strain upon the timber-heads  |
|to which the fluke-chains and cables    |
|were fastened, that it was impossible to|
|cast them off. Meantime everything in   |
|the Pequod was aslant. To cross to the  |
|other side of the deck was like walking |
|up the steep gabled roof of a house.    |
|The ship groaned and gasped. Many of    |
|the ivory inlayings of her bulwarks and |
|cabins were started from their places,  |
|by the unnatural dislocation. In vain   |
|handspikes and crows were brought to    |
|bear upon the immovable fluke-chains, to|
|pry them adrift from the timberheads;   |
|and so low had the whale now settled    |
|that the submerged ends could not be    |
|at all approached, while every moment   |
|whole tons of ponderosity seemed added  |
|to the sinking bulk, and the ship       |
|seemed on the point of going over.      |
|"Hold on, hold on, won't ye?" cried     |
|Stubb to the body, "don't be in such a  |
|devil of a hurry to sink! By thunder,   |
|men, we must do something or go for     |
|it. No use prying there; avast, I say   |
|with your handspikes, and run one of    |
|ye for a prayer book and a pen-knife,   |
|and cut the big chains." "Knife? Aye,   |
|aye," cried Queequeg, and seizing the   |
|carpenter's heavy hatchet, he leaned out|
|of a porthole, and steel to iron, began |
|slashing at the largest fluke-chains.   |
|But a few strokes, full of sparks,      |
|were given, when the exceeding strain   |
|effected the rest. With a terrific      |
|snap, every fastening went adrift; the  |
|ship righted, the carcase sank. Now,    |
|this occasional inevitable sinking      |
|of the recently killed Sperm Whale      |
|is a very curious thing; nor has any    |
|fisherman yet adequately accounted      |
|for it. Usually the dead Sperm Whale    |
|floats with great buoyancy, with its    |
|side or belly considerably elevated     |
|above the surface. If the only whales   |
|that thus sank were old, meagre, and    |
|broken-hearted creatures, their pads    |
|of lard diminished and all their bones  |
|heavy and rheumatic; then you might with|
|some reason assert that this sinking is |
|caused by an uncommon specific gravity  |
|in the fish so sinking, consequent upon |
|this absence of buoyant matter in him.  |
|But it is not so. For young whales, in  |
|the highest health, and swelling with   |
|noble aspirations, prematurely cut off  |
|in the warm flush and May of life, with |
|all their panting lard about them;      |
|even these brawny, buoyant heroes do    |
|sometimes sink. Be it said, however,    |
|that the Sperm Whale is far less liable |
|to this accident than any other species.|
|Where one of that sort go down, twenty  |
|Right Whales do. This difference in the |
|species is no doubt imputable in no     |
|small degree to the greater quantity of |
|bone in the Right Whale; his Venetian   |
|blinds alone sometimes weighing more    |
|than a ton; from this incumbrance the   |
|Sperm Whale is wholly free. But there   |
|are instances where, after the lapse of |
|many hours or several days, the sunken  |
|whale again rises, more buoyant than in |
|life. But the reason of this is obvious.|
|Gases are generated in him; he swells   |
|to a prodigious magnitude; becomes a    |
|sort of animal balloon. A line-of-battle|
|ship could hardly keep him under then.  |
|In the Shore Whaling, on soundings,     |
|among the Bays of New Zealand, when a   |
|Right Whale gives token of sinking,     |
|they fasten buoys to him, with plenty   |
|of rope; so that when the body has      |
|gone down, they know where to look for  |
|it when it shall have ascended again.   |
|It was not long after the sinking of    |
|the body that a cry was heard from the  |
|Pequod's mast-heads, announcing that    |
|the Jungfrau was again lowering her     |
|boats; though the only spout in sight   |
|was that of a Fin-Back, belonging to the|
|species of uncapturable whales, because |
|of its incredible power of swimming.    |
|Nevertheless, the Fin-Back's spout is   |
|so similar to the Sperm Whale's, that   |
|by unskilful fishermen it is often      |
|mistaken for it. And consequently Derick|
|and all his host were now in valiant    |
|chase of this unnearable brute. The     |
|Virgin crowding all sail, made after    |
|her four young keels, and thus they all |
|disappeared far to leeward, still in    |
|bold, hopeful chase. Oh! many are the   |
|Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks,    |
|my friend. There are some enterprises   |
|in which a careful disorderliness is    |
|the true method. The more I dive into   |
|this matter of whaling, and push my     |
|researches up to the very spring-head of|
|it so much the more am I impressed with |
|its great honourableness and antiquity; |
|and especially when I find so many great|
|demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all   |
|sorts, who one way or other have shed   |
|distinction upon it, I am transported   |
|with the reflection that I myself       |
|belong, though but subordinately, to so |
|emblazoned a fraternity. The gallant    |
|Perseus, a son of Jupiter, was the first|
|whaleman; and to the eternal honour of  |
|our calling be it said, that the first  |
|whale attacked by our brotherhood was   |
|not killed with any sordid intent.      |
|Those were the knightly days of our     |
|profession, when we only bore arms to   |
|succor the distressed, and not to fill  |
|men's lamp-feeders. Every one knows the |
|fine story of Perseus and Andromeda;    |
|how the lovely Andromeda, the daughter  |
|of a king, was tied to a rock on the    |
|sea-coast, and as Leviathan was in the  |
|very act of carrying her off, Perseus,  |
|the prince of whalemen, intrepidly      |
|advancing, harpooned the monster, and   |
|delivered and married the maid. It was  |
|an admirable artistic exploit, rarely   |
|achieved by the best harpooneers of the |
|present day; inasmuch as this Leviathan |
|was slain at the very first dart. And   |
|let no man doubt this Arkite story; for |
|in the ancient Joppa, now Jaffa, on     |
|the Syrian coast, in one of the Pagan   |
|temples, there stood for many ages the  |
|vast skeleton of a whale, which the     |
|city's legends and all the inhabitants  |
|asserted to be the identical bones of   |
|the monster that Perseus slew. When the |
|Romans took Joppa, the same skeleton    |
|was carried to Italy in triumph. What   |
|seems most singular and suggestively    |
|important in this story, is this: it    |
|was from Joppa that Jonah set sail.     |
|Akin to the adventure of Perseus and    |
|Andromeda--indeed, by some supposed     |
|to be indirectly derived from it--is    |
|that famous story of St. George and     |
|the Dragon; which dragon I maintain     |
|to have been a whale; for in many old   |
|chronicles whales and dragons are       |
|strangely jumbled together, and often   |
|stand for each other. "Thou art as a    |
|lion of the waters, and as a dragon of  |
|the sea," saith Ezekiel; hereby, plainly|
|meaning a whale; in truth, some versions|
|of the Bible use that word itself.      |
|Besides, it would much subtract from    |
|the glory of the exploit had St. George |
|but encountered a crawling reptile of   |
|the land, instead of doing battle with  |
|the great monster of the deep. Any man  |
|may kill a snake, but only a Perseus,   |
|a St. George, a Coffin, have the        |
|heart in them to march boldly up to a   |
|whale. Let not the modern paintings of  |
|this scene mislead us; for though the   |
|creature encountered by that valiant    |
|whaleman of old is vaguely represented  |
|of a griffin-like shape, and though     |
|the battle is depicted on land and the  |
|saint on horseback, yet considering the |
|great ignorance of those times, when    |
|the true form of the whale was unknown  |
|to artists; and considering that as in  |
|Perseus' case, St. George's whale might |
|have crawled up out of the sea on the   |
|beach; and considering that the animal  |
|ridden by St. George might have been    |
|only a large seal, or sea-horse; bearing|
|all this in mind, it will not appear    |
|altogether incompatible with the sacred |
|legend and the ancientest draughts      |
|of the scene, to hold this so-called    |
|dragon no other than the great Leviathan|
|himself. In fact, placed before the     |
|strict and piercing truth, this whole   |
|story will fare like that fish, flesh,  |
|and fowl idol of the Philistines, Dagon |
|by name; who being planted before the   |
|ark of Israel, his horse's head and both|
|the palms of his hands fell off from    |
|him, and only the stump or fishy part   |
|of him remained. Thus, then, one of our |
|own noble stamp, even a whaleman, is the|
|tutelary guardian of England; and by    |
|good rights, we harpooneers of Nantucket|
|should be enrolled in the most noble    |
|order of St. George. And therefore,     |
|let not the knights of that honourable  |
|company (none of whom, I venture to say,|
|have ever had to do with a whale like   |
|their great patron), let them never     |
|eye a Nantucketer with disdain, since   |
|even in our woollen frocks and tarred   |
|trowsers we are much better entitled    |
|to St. George's decoration than they.   |
|Whether to admit Hercules among us or   |
|not, concerning this I long remained    |
|dubious: for though according to the    |
|Greek mythologies, that antique Crockett|
|and Kit Carson--that brawny doer of     |
|rejoicing good deeds, was swallowed down|
|and thrown up by a whale; still, whether|
|that strictly makes a whaleman of him,  |
|that might be mooted. It nowhere appears|
|that he ever actually harpooned his     |
|fish, unless, indeed, from the inside.  |
|Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort   |
|of involuntary whaleman; at any rate    |
|the whale caught him, if he did not     |
|the whale. I claim him for one of our   |
|clan. But, by the best contradictory    |
|authorities, this Grecian story of      |
|Hercules and the whale is considered to |
|be derived from the still more ancient  |
|Hebrew story of Jonah and the whale;    |
|and vice versa; certainly they are very |
|similar. If I claim the demigod then,   |
|why not the prophet? Nor do heroes,     |
|saints, demigods, and prophets alone    |
|comprise the whole roll of our order.   |
|Our grand master is still to be named;  |
|for like royal kings of old times, we   |
|find the head waters of our fraternity  |
|in nothing short of the great gods      |
|themselves. That wondrous oriental story|
|is now to be rehearsed from the Shaster,|
|which gives us the dread Vishnoo, one   |
|of the three persons in the godhead     |
|of the Hindoos; gives us this divine    |
|Vishnoo himself for our Lord;--Vishnoo, |
|who, by the first of his ten earthly    |
|incarnations, has for ever set apart    |
|and sanctified the whale. When Brahma,  |
|or the God of Gods, saith the Shaster,  |
|resolved to recreate the world after    |
|one of its periodical dissolutions, he  |
|gave birth to Vishnoo, to preside over  |
|the work; but the Vedas, or mystical    |
|books, whose perusal would seem to have |
|been indispensable to Vishnoo before    |
|beginning the creation, and which       |
|therefore must have contained something |
|in the shape of practical hints to      |
|young architects, these Vedas were      |
|lying at the bottom of the waters; so   |
|Vishnoo became incarnate in a whale, and|
|sounding down in him to the uttermost   |
|depths, rescued the sacred volumes.     |
|Was not this Vishnoo a whaleman, then?  |
|even as a man who rides a horse is      |
|called a horseman? Perseus, St. George, |
|Hercules, Jonah, and Vishnoo! there's   |
|a member-roll for you! What club but    |
|the whaleman's can head off like that?  |
|Reference was made to the historical    |
|story of Jonah and the whale in the     |
|preceding chapter. Now some Nantucketers|
|rather distrust this historical story   |
|of Jonah and the whale. But then there  |
|were some sceptical Greeks and Romans,  |
|who, standing out from the orthodox     |
|pagans of their times, equally doubted  |
|the story of Hercules and the whale,    |
|and Arion and the dolphin; and yet      |
|their doubting those traditions did not |
|make those traditions one whit the less |
|facts, for all that. One old Sag-Harbor |
|whaleman's chief reason for questioning |
|the Hebrew story was this:--He had one  |
|of those quaint old-fashioned Bibles,   |
|embellished with curious, unscientific  |
|plates; one of which represented Jonah's|
|whale with two spouts in his head--a    |
|peculiarity only true with respect      |
|to a species of the Leviathan (the      |
|Right Whale, and the varieties of that  |
|order), concerning which the fishermen  |
|have this saying, "A penny roll would   |
|choke him"; his swallow is so very      |
|small. But, to this, Bishop Jebb's      |
|anticipative answer is ready. It is not |
|necessary, hints the Bishop, that we    |
|consider Jonah as tombed in the whale's |
|belly, but as temporarily lodged in     |
|some part of his mouth. And this seems  |
|reasonable enough in the good Bishop.   |
|For truly, the Right Whale's mouth would|
|accommodate a couple of whist-tables,   |
|and comfortably seat all the players.   |
|Possibly, too, Jonah might have         |
|ensconced himself in a hollow tooth;    |
|but, on second thoughts, the Right Whale|
|is toothless. Another reason which      |
|Sag-Harbor (he went by that name) urged |
|for his want of faith in this matter of |
|the prophet, was something obscurely    |
|in reference to his incarcerated body   |
|and the whale's gastric juices. But     |
|this objection likewise falls to the    |
|ground, because a German exegetist      |
|supposes that Jonah must have taken     |
|refuge in the floating body of a DEAD   |
|whale--even as the French soldiers in   |
|the Russian campaign turned their dead  |
|horses into tents, and crawled into     |
|them. Besides, it has been divined      |
|by other continental commentators,      |
|that when Jonah was thrown overboard    |
|from the Joppa ship, he straightway     |
|effected his escape to another vessel   |
|near by, some vessel with a whale for a |
|figure-head; and, I would add, possibly |
|called "The Whale," as some craft are   |
|nowadays christened the "Shark," the    |
|"Gull," the "Eagle." Nor have there     |
|been wanting learned exegetists who     |
|have opined that the whale mentioned    |
|in the book of Jonah merely meant a     |
|life-preserver--an inflated bag of      |
|wind--which the endangered prophet swam |
|to, and so was saved from a watery      |
|doom. Poor Sag-Harbor, therefore, seems |
|worsted all round. But he had still     |
|another reason for his want of faith.   |
|It was this, if I remember right:       |
|Jonah was swallowed by the whale in     |
|the Mediterranean Sea, and after three  |
|days he was vomited up somewhere within |
|three days' journey of Nineveh, a city  |
|on the Tigris, very much more than three|
|days' journey across from the nearest   |
|point of the Mediterranean coast. How   |
|is that? But was there no other way for |
|the whale to land the prophet within    |
|that short distance of Nineveh? Yes.    |
|He might have carried him round by the  |
|way of the Cape of Good Hope. But not   |
|to speak of the passage through the     |
|whole length of the Mediterranean, and  |
|another passage up the Persian Gulf     |
|and Red Sea, such a supposition would   |
|involve the complete circumnavigation   |
|of all Africa in three days, not to     |
|speak of the Tigris waters, near the    |
|site of Nineveh, being too shallow for  |
|any whale to swim in. Besides, this     |
|idea of Jonah's weathering the Cape of  |
|Good Hope at so early a day would wrest |
|the honour of the discovery of that     |
|great headland from Bartholomew Diaz,   |
|its reputed discoverer, and so make     |
|modern history a liar. But all these    |
|foolish arguments of old Sag-Harbor     |
|only evinced his foolish pride of       |
|reason--a thing still more reprehensible|
|in him, seeing that he had but little   |
|learning except what he had picked up   |
|from the sun and the sea. I say it only |
|shows his foolish, impious pride, and   |
|abominable, devilish rebellion against  |
|the reverend clergy. For by a Portuguese|
|Catholic priest, this very idea of      |
|Jonah's going to Nineveh via the Cape   |
|of Good Hope was advanced as a signal   |
|magnification of the general miracle.   |
|And so it was. Besides, to this day,    |
|the highly enlightened Turks devoutly   |
|believe in the historical story of      |
|Jonah. And some three centuries ago,    |
|an English traveller in old Harris's    |
|Voyages, speaks of a Turkish Mosque     |
|built in honour of Jonah, in which      |
|Mosque was a miraculous lamp that       |
|burnt without any oil. To make them     |
|run easily and swiftly, the axles of    |
|carriages are anointed; and for much    |
|the same purpose, some whalers perform  |
|an analogous operation upon their boat; |
|they grease the bottom. Nor is it to    |
|be doubted that as such a procedure     |
|can do no harm, it may possibly be of   |
|no contemptible advantage; considering  |
|that oil and water are hostile; that    |
|oil is a sliding thing, and that the    |
|object in view is to make the boat slide|
|bravely. Queequeg believed strongly in  |
|anointing his boat, and one morning not |
|long after the German ship Jungfrau     |
|disappeared, took more than customary   |
|pains in that occupation; crawling under|
|its bottom, where it hung over the side,|
|and rubbing in the unctuousness as      |
|though diligently seeking to insure a   |
|crop of hair from the craft's bald keel.|
|He seemed to be working in obedience to |
|some particular presentiment. Nor did it|
|remain unwarranted by the event. Towards|
|noon whales were raised; but so soon    |
|as the ship sailed down to them, they   |
|turned and fled with swift precipitancy;|
|a disordered flight, as of Cleopatra's  |
|barges from Actium. Nevertheless, the   |
|boats pursued, and Stubb's was foremost.|
|By great exertion, Tashtego at last     |
|succeeded in planting one iron; but the |
|stricken whale, without at all sounding,|
|still continued his horizontal flight,  |
|with added fleetness. Such unintermitted|
|strainings upon the planted iron must   |
|sooner or later inevitably extract it.  |
|It became imperative to lance the flying|
|whale, or be content to lose him. But   |
|to haul the boat up to his flank was    |
|impossible, he swam so fast and furious.|
|What then remained? Of all the wondrous |
|devices and dexterities, the sleights of|
|hand and countless subtleties, to which |
|the veteran whaleman is so often forced,|
|none exceed that fine manoeuvre with the|
|lance called pitchpoling. Small sword,  |
|or broad sword, in all its exercises    |
|boasts nothing like it. It is only      |
|indispensable with an inveterate running|
|whale; its grand fact and feature is    |
|the wonderful distance to which the     |
|long lance is accurately darted from    |
|a violently rocking, jerking boat,      |
|under extreme headway. Steel and wood   |
|included, the entire spear is some ten  |
|or twelve feet in length; the staff is  |
|much slighter than that of the harpoon, |
|and also of a lighter material--pine. It|
|is furnished with a small rope called a |
|warp, of considerable length, by which  |
|it can be hauled back to the hand after |
|darting. But before going further, it   |
|is important to mention here, that      |
|though the harpoon may be pitchpoled in |
|the same way with the lance, yet it is  |
|seldom done; and when done, is still    |
|less frequently successful, on account  |
|of the greater weight and inferior      |
|length of the harpoon as compared with  |
|the lance, which in effect become       |
|serious drawbacks. As a general thing,  |
|therefore, you must first get fast to a |
|whale, before any pitchpoling comes into|
|play. Look now at Stubb; a man who from |
|his humorous, deliberate coolness and   |
|equanimity in the direst emergencies,   |
|was specially qualified to excel in     |
|pitchpoling. Look at him; he stands     |
|upright in the tossed bow of the flying |
|boat; wrapt in fleecy foam, the towing  |
|whale is forty feet ahead. Handling the |
|long lance lightly, glancing twice or   |
|thrice along its length to see if it    |
|be exactly straight, Stubb whistlingly  |
|gathers up the coil of the warp in      |
|one hand, so as to secure its free      |
|end in his grasp, leaving the rest      |
|unobstructed. Then holding the lance    |
|full before his waistband's middle, he  |
|levels it at the whale; when, covering  |
|him with it, he steadily depresses the  |
|butt-end in his hand, thereby elevating |
|the point till the weapon stands fairly |
|balanced upon his palm, fifteen feet    |
|in the air. He minds you somewhat of    |
|a juggler, balancing a long staff on    |
|his chin. Next moment with a rapid,     |
|nameless impulse, in a superb lofty     |
|arch the bright steel spans the foaming |
|distance, and quivers in the life spot  |
|of the whale. Instead of sparkling      |
|water, he now spouts red blood. "That   |
|drove the spigot out of him!" cried     |
|Stubb. "'Tis July's immortal Fourth; all|
|fountains must run wine today! Would    |
|now, it were old Orleans whiskey, or old|
|Ohio, or unspeakable old Monongahela!   |
|Then, Tashtego, lad, I'd have ye hold   |
|a canakin to the jet, and we'd drink    |
|round it! Yea, verily, hearts alive,    |
|we'd brew choice punch in the spread    |
|of his spout-hole there, and from that  |
|live punch-bowl quaff the living stuff."|
|Again and again to such gamesome talk,  |
|the dexterous dart is repeated, the     |
|spear returning to its master like a    |
|greyhound held in skilful leash. The    |
|agonized whale goes into his flurry;    |
|the tow-line is slackened, and the      |
|pitchpoler dropping astern, folds his   |
|hands, and mutely watches the monster   |
|die. That for six thousand years--and   |
|no one knows how many millions of ages  |
|before--the great whales should have    |
|been spouting all over the sea, and     |
|sprinkling and mistifying the gardens   |
|of the deep, as with so many sprinkling |
|or mistifying pots; and that for some   |
|centuries back, thousands of hunters    |
|should have been close by the fountain  |
|of the whale, watching these sprinklings|
|and spoutings--that all this should     |
|be, and yet, that down to this blessed  |
|minute (fifteen and a quarter minutes   |
|past one o'clock P.M. of this sixteenth |
|day of December, A.D. 1851), it should  |
|still remain a problem, whether these   |
|spoutings are, after all, really water, |
|or nothing but vapour--this is surely   |
|a noteworthy thing. Let us, then,       |
|look at this matter, along with some    |
|interesting items contingent. Every     |
|one knows that by the peculiar cunning  |
|of their gills, the finny tribes in     |
|general breathe the air which at all    |
|times is combined with the element in   |
|which they swim; hence, a herring or a  |
|cod might live a century, and never once|
|raise its head above the surface. But   |
|owing to his marked internal structure  |
|which gives him regular lungs, like     |
|a human being's, the whale can only     |
|live by inhaling the disengaged air     |
|in the open atmosphere. Wherefore the   |
|necessity for his periodical visits     |
|to the upper world. But he cannot in    |
|any degree breathe through his mouth,   |
|for, in his ordinary attitude, the      |
|Sperm Whale's mouth is buried at least  |
|eight feet beneath the surface; and     |
|what is still more, his windpipe has    |
|no connexion with his mouth. No, he     |
|breathes through his spiracle alone;    |
|and this is on the top of his head. If  |
|I say, that in any creature breathing   |
|is only a function indispensable to     |
|vitality, inasmuch as it withdraws from |
|the air a certain element, which being  |
|subsequently brought into contact with  |
|the blood imparts to the blood its      |
|vivifying principle, I do not think I   |
|shall err; though I may possibly use    |
|some superfluous scientific words.      |
|Assume it, and it follows that if all   |
|the blood in a man could be aerated     |
|with one breath, he might then seal up  |
|his nostrils and not fetch another for  |
|a considerable time. That is to say,    |
|he would then live without breathing.   |
|Anomalous as it may seem, this is       |
|precisely the case with the whale, who  |
|systematically lives, by intervals,     |
|his full hour and more (when at the     |
|bottom) without drawing a single breath,|
|or so much as in any way inhaling a     |
|particle of air; for, remember, he has  |
|no gills. How is this? Between his      |
|ribs and on each side of his spine he   |
|is supplied with a remarkable involved  |
|Cretan labyrinth of vermicelli-like     |
|vessels, which vessels, when he quits   |
|the surface, are completely distended   |
|with oxygenated blood. So that for an   |
|hour or more, a thousand fathoms in     |
|the sea, he carries a surplus stock     |
|of vitality in him, just as the camel   |
|crossing the waterless desert carries a |
|surplus supply of drink for future use  |
|in its four supplementary stomachs. The |
|anatomical fact of this labyrinth is    |
|indisputable; and that the supposition  |
|founded upon it is reasonable and true, |
|seems the more cogent to me, when I     |
|consider the otherwise inexplicable     |
|obstinacy of that leviathan in HAVING   |
|HIS SPOUTINGS OUT, as the fishermen     |
|phrase it. This is what I mean. If      |
|unmolested, upon rising to the surface, |
|the Sperm Whale will continue there     |
|for a period of time exactly uniform    |
|with all his other unmolested risings.  |
|Say he stays eleven minutes, and jets   |
|seventy times, that is, respires seventy|
|breaths; then whenever he rises again,  |
|he will be sure to have his seventy     |
|breaths over again, to a minute. Now,   |
|if after he fetches a few breaths you   |
|alarm him, so that he sounds, he will   |
|be always dodging up again to make good |
|his regular allowance of air. And not   |
|till those seventy breaths are told,    |
|will he finally go down to stay out his |
|full term below. Remark, however, that  |
|in different individuals these rates    |
|are different; but in any one they are  |
|alike. Now, why should the whale thus   |
|insist upon having his spoutings out,   |
|unless it be to replenish his reservoir |
|of air, ere descending for good? How    |
|obvious is it, too, that this necessity |
|for the whale's rising exposes him to   |
|all the fatal hazards of the chase. For |
|not by hook or by net could this vast   |
|leviathan be caught, when sailing a     |
|thousand fathoms beneath the sunlight.  |
|Not so much thy skill, then, O hunter,  |
|as the great necessities that strike the|
|victory to thee! In man, breathing is   |
|incessantly going on--one breath only   |
|serving for two or three pulsations; so |
|that whatever other business he has to  |
|attend to, waking or sleeping, breathe  |
|he must, or die he will. But the Sperm  |
|Whale only breathes about one seventh   |
|or Sunday of his time. It has been said |
|that the whale only breathes through    |
|his spout-hole; if it could truthfully  |
|be added that his spouts are mixed      |
|with water, then I opine we should be   |
|furnished with the reason why his sense |
|of smell seems obliterated in him; for  |
|the only thing about him that at all    |
|answers to his nose is that identical   |
|spout-hole; and being so clogged with   |
|two elements, it could not be expected  |
|to have the power of smelling. But owing|
|to the mystery of the spout--whether it |
|be water or whether it be vapour--no    |
|absolute certainty can as yet be        |
|arrived at on this head. Sure it is,    |
|nevertheless, that the Sperm Whale has  |
|no proper olfactories. But what does he |
|want of them? No roses, no violets, no  |
|Cologne-water in the sea. Furthermore,  |
|as his windpipe solely opens into the   |
|tube of his spouting canal, and as      |
|that long canal--like the grand Erie    |
|Canal--is furnished with a sort of locks|
|(that open and shut) for the downward   |
|retention of air or the upward exclusion|
|of water, therefore the whale has no    |
|voice; unless you insult him by saying, |
|that when he so strangely rumbles, he   |
|talks through his nose. But then again, |
|what has the whale to say? Seldom have  |
|I known any profound being that had     |
|anything to say to this world, unless   |
|forced to stammer out something by way  |
|of getting a living. Oh! happy that the |
|world is such an excellent listener!    |
|Now, the spouting canal of the Sperm    |
|Whale, chiefly intended as it is for    |
|the conveyance of air, and for several  |
|feet laid along, horizontally, just     |
|beneath the upper surface of his head,  |
|and a little to one side; this curious  |
|canal is very much like a gas-pipe      |
|laid down in a city on one side of a    |
|street. But the question returns whether|
|this gas-pipe is also a water-pipe; in  |
|other words, whether the spout of the   |
|Sperm Whale is the mere vapour of the   |
|exhaled breath, or whether that exhaled |
|breath is mixed with water taken in     |
|at the mouth, and discharged through    |
|the spiracle. It is certain that the    |
|mouth indirectly communicates with      |
|the spouting canal; but it cannot be    |
|proved that this is for the purpose of  |
|discharging water through the spiracle. |
|Because the greatest necessity for so   |
|doing would seem to be, when in feeding |
|he accidentally takes in water. But the |
|Sperm Whale's food is far beneath the   |
|surface, and there he cannot spout even |
|if he would. Besides, if you regard     |
|him very closely, and time him with     |
|your watch, you will find that when     |
|unmolested, there is an undeviating     |
|rhyme between the periods of his jets   |
|and the ordinary periods of respiration.|
|But why pester one with all this        |
|reasoning on the subject? Speak out! You|
|have seen him spout; then declare what  |
|the spout is; can you not tell water    |
|from air? My dear sir, in this world it |
|is not so easy to settle these plain    |
|things. I have ever found your plain    |
|things the knottiest of all. And as for |
|this whale spout, you might almost stand|
|in it, and yet be undecided as to what  |
|it is precisely. The central body of it |
|is hidden in the snowy sparkling mist   |
|enveloping it; and how can you certainly|
|tell whether any water falls from it,   |
|when, always, when you are close enough |
|to a whale to get a close view of his   |
|spout, he is in a prodigious commotion, |
|the water cascading all around him. And |
|if at such times you should think that  |
|you really perceived drops of moisture  |
|in the spout, how do you know that      |
|they are not merely condensed from its  |
|vapour; or how do you know that they are|
|not those identical drops superficially |
|lodged in the spout-hole fissure, which |
|is countersunk into the summit of the   |
|whale's head? For even when tranquilly  |
|swimming through the mid-day sea in a   |
|calm, with his elevated hump sun-dried  |
|as a dromedary's in the desert; even    |
|then, the whale always carries a small  |
|basin of water on his head, as under a  |
|blazing sun you will sometimes see a    |
|cavity in a rock filled up with rain.   |
|Nor is it at all prudent for the hunter |
|to be over curious touching the precise |
|nature of the whale spout. It will not  |
|do for him to be peering into it, and   |
|putting his face in it. You cannot go   |
|with your pitcher to this fountain      |
|and fill it, and bring it away. For     |
|even when coming into slight contact    |
|with the outer, vapoury shreds of the   |
|jet, which will often happen, your      |
|skin will feverishly smart, from the    |
|acridness of the thing so touching it.  |
|And I know one, who coming into still   |
|closer contact with the spout, whether  |
|with some scientific object in view,    |
|or otherwise, I cannot say, the skin    |
|peeled off from his cheek and arm.      |
|Wherefore, among whalemen, the spout    |
|is deemed poisonous; they try to evade  |
|it. Another thing; I have heard it      |
|said, and I do not much doubt it, that  |
|if the jet is fairly spouted into your  |
|eyes, it will blind you. The wisest     |
|thing the investigator can do then,     |
|it seems to me, is to let this deadly   |
|spout alone. Still, we can hypothesize, |
|even if we cannot prove and establish.  |
|My hypothesis is this: that the spout   |
|is nothing but mist. And besides other  |
|reasons, to this conclusion I am        |
|impelled, by considerations touching the|
|great inherent dignity and sublimity    |
|of the Sperm Whale; I account him no    |
|common, shallow being, inasmuch as it   |
|is an undisputed fact that he is never  |
|found on soundings, or near shores;     |
|all other whales sometimes are. He is   |
|both ponderous and profound. And I      |
|am convinced that from the heads of     |
|all ponderous profound beings, such     |
|as Plato, Pyrrho, the Devil, Jupiter,   |
|Dante, and so on, there always goes up  |
|a certain semi-visible steam, while in  |
|the act of thinking deep thoughts. While|
|composing a little treatise on Eternity,|
|I had the curiosity to place a mirror   |
|before me; and ere long saw reflected   |
|there, a curious involved worming and   |
|undulation in the atmosphere over my    |
|head. The invariable moisture of my     |
|hair, while plunged in deep thought,    |
|after six cups of hot tea in my thin    |
|shingled attic, of an August noon;      |
|this seems an additional argument for   |
|the above supposition. And how nobly    |
|it raises our conceit of the mighty,    |
|misty monster, to behold him solemnly   |
|sailing through a calm tropical sea; his|
|vast, mild head overhung by a canopy of |
|vapour, engendered by his incommunicable|
|contemplations, and that vapour--as you |
|will sometimes see it--glorified by a   |
|rainbow, as if Heaven itself had put    |
|its seal upon his thoughts. For, d'ye   |
|see, rainbows do not visit the clear    |
|air; they only irradiate vapour. And so,|
|through all the thick mists of the dim  |
|doubts in my mind, divine intuitions now|
|and then shoot, enkindling my fog with  |
|a heavenly ray. And for this I thank    |
|God; for all have doubts; many deny; but|
|doubts or denials, few along with them, |
|have intuitions. Doubts of all things   |
|earthly, and intuitions of some things  |
|heavenly; this combination makes neither|
|believer nor infidel, but makes a man   |
|who regards them both with equal eye.   |
|Other poets have warbled the praises of |
|the soft eye of the antelope, and the   |
|lovely plumage of the bird that never   |
|alights; less celestial, I celebrate a  |
|tail. Reckoning the largest sized Sperm |
|Whale's tail to begin at that point     |
|of the trunk where it tapers to about   |
|the girth of a man, it comprises upon   |
|its upper surface alone, an area of at  |
|least fifty square feet. The compact    |
|round body of its root expands into     |
|two broad, firm, flat palms or flukes,  |
|gradually shoaling away to less than    |
|an inch in thickness. At the crotch     |
|or junction, these flukes slightly      |
|overlap, then sideways recede from      |
|each other like wings, leaving a wide   |
|vacancy between. In no living thing are |
|the lines of beauty more exquisitely    |
|defined than in the crescentic borders  |
|of these flukes. At its utmost expansion|
|in the full grown whale, the tail will  |
|considerably exceed twenty feet across. |
|The entire member seems a dense webbed  |
|bed of welded sinews; but cut into      |
|it, and you find that three distinct    |
|strata compose it:--upper, middle, and  |
|lower. The fibres in the upper and lower|
|layers, are long and horizontal; those  |
|of the middle one, very short, and      |
|running crosswise between the outside   |
|layers. This triune structure, as much  |
|as anything else, imparts power to the  |
|tail. To the student of old Roman walls,|
|the middle layer will furnish a curious |
|parallel to the thin course of tiles    |
|always alternating with the stone in    |
|those wonderful relics of the antique,  |
|and which undoubtedly contribute so much|
|to the great strength of the masonry.   |
|But as if this vast local power in the  |
|tendinous tail were not enough, the     |
|whole bulk of the leviathan is knit     |
|over with a warp and woof of muscular   |
|fibres and filaments, which passing     |
|on either side the loins and running    |
|down into the flukes, insensibly blend  |
|with them, and largely contribute to    |
|their might; so that in the tail the    |
|confluent measureless force of the whole|
|whale seems concentrated to a point.    |
|Could annihilation occur to matter,     |
|this were the thing to do it. Nor does  |
|this--its amazing strength, at all tend |
|to cripple the graceful flexion of its  |
|motions; where infantileness of ease    |
|undulates through a Titanism of power.  |
|On the contrary, those motions derive   |
|their most appalling beauty from it.    |
|Real strength never impairs beauty or   |
|harmony, but it often bestows it; and   |
|in everything imposingly beautiful,     |
|strength has much to do with the magic. |
|Take away the tied tendons that all     |
|over seem bursting from the marble in   |
|the carved Hercules, and its charm      |
|would be gone. As devout Eckerman       |
|lifted the linen sheet from the naked   |
|corpse of Goethe, he was overwhelmed    |
|with the massive chest of the man, that |
|seemed as a Roman triumphal arch. When  |
|Angelo paints even God the Father in    |
|human form, mark what robustness is     |
|there. And whatever they may reveal     |
|of the divine love in the Son, the      |
|soft, curled, hermaphroditical Italian  |
|pictures, in which his idea has been    |
|most successfully embodied; these       |
|pictures, so destitute as they are of   |
|all brawniness, hint nothing of any     |
|power, but the mere negative, feminine  |
|one of submission and endurance, which  |
|on all hands it is conceded, form the   |
|peculiar practical virtues of his       |
|teachings. Such is the subtle elasticity|
|of the organ I treat of, that whether   |
|wielded in sport, or in earnest, or in  |
|anger, whatever be the mood it be in,   |
|its flexions are invariably marked by   |
|exceeding grace. Therein no fairy's arm |
|can transcend it. Five great motions are|
|peculiar to it. First, when used as a   |
|fin for progression; Second, when used  |
|as a mace in battle; Third, in sweeping;|
|Fourth, in lobtailing; Fifth, in peaking|
|flukes. First: Being horizontal in its  |
|position, the Leviathan's tail acts     |
|in a different manner from the tails    |
|of all other sea creatures. It never    |
|wriggles. In man or fish, wriggling is a|
|sign of inferiority. To the whale, his  |
|tail is the sole means of propulsion.   |
|Scroll-wise coiled forwards beneath the |
|body, and then rapidly sprung backwards,|
|it is this which gives that singular    |
|darting, leaping motion to the monster  |
|when furiously swimming. His side-fins  |
|only serve to steer by. Second: It is a |
|little significant, that while one sperm|
|whale only fights another sperm whale   |
|with his head and jaw, nevertheless,    |
|in his conflicts with man, he chiefly   |
|and contemptuously uses his tail. In    |
|striking at a boat, he swiftly curves   |
|away his flukes from it, and the blow is|
|only inflicted by the recoil. If it be  |
|made in the unobstructed air, especially|
|if it descend to its mark, the stroke   |
|is then simply irresistible. No ribs of |
|man or boat can withstand it. Your only |
|salvation lies in eluding it; but if    |
|it comes sideways through the opposing  |
|water, then partly owing to the light   |
|buoyancy of the whale boat, and the     |
|elasticity of its materials, a cracked  |
|rib or a dashed plank or two, a sort of |
|stitch in the side, is generally the    |
|most serious result. These submerged    |
|side blows are so often received in the |
|fishery, that they are accounted mere   |
|child's play. Some one strips off a     |
|frock, and the hole is stopped. Third:  |
|I cannot demonstrate it, but it seems   |
|to me, that in the whale the sense of   |
|touch is concentrated in the tail; for  |
|in this respect there is a delicacy in  |
|it only equalled by the daintiness of   |
|the elephant's trunk. This delicacy     |
|is chiefly evinced in the action of     |
|sweeping, when in maidenly gentleness   |
|the whale with a certain soft slowness  |
|moves his immense flukes from side to   |
|side upon the surface of the sea; and   |
|if he feel but a sailor's whisker, woe  |
|to that sailor, whiskers and all. What  |
|tenderness there is in that preliminary |
|touch! Had this tail any prehensile     |
|power, I should straightway bethink     |
|me of Darmonodes' elephant that so      |
|frequented the flower-market, and with  |
|low salutations presented nosegays to   |
|damsels, and then caressed their zones. |
|On more accounts than one, a pity it is |
|that the whale does not possess this    |
|prehensile virtue in his tail; for I    |
|have heard of yet another elephant,     |
|that when wounded in the fight, curved  |
|round his trunk and extracted the dart. |
|Fourth: Stealing unawares upon the      |
|whale in the fancied security of the    |
|middle of solitary seas, you find him   |
|unbent from the vast corpulence of his  |
|dignity, and kitten-like, he plays on   |
|the ocean as if it were a hearth. But   |
|still you see his power in his play.    |
|The broad palms of his tail are flirted |
|high into the air; then smiting the     |
|surface, the thunderous concussion      |
|resounds for miles. You would almost    |
|think a great gun had been discharged;  |
|and if you noticed the light wreath of  |
|vapour from the spiracle at his other   |
|extremity, you would think that that was|
|the smoke from the touch-hole. Fifth: As|
|in the ordinary floating posture of the |
|leviathan the flukes lie considerably   |
|below the level of his back, they are   |
|then completely out of sight beneath    |
|the surface; but when he is about to    |
|plunge into the deeps, his entire flukes|
|with at least thirty feet of his body   |
|are tossed erect in the air, and so     |
|remain vibrating a moment, till they    |
|downwards shoot out of view. Excepting  |
|the sublime BREACH--somewhere else to be|
|described--this peaking of the whale's  |
|flukes is perhaps the grandest sight to |
|be seen in all animated nature. Out of  |
|the bottomless profundities the gigantic|
|tail seems spasmodically snatching at   |
|the highest heaven. So in dreams, have  |
|I seen majestic Satan thrusting forth   |
|his tormented colossal claw from the    |
|flame Baltic of Hell. But in gazing     |
|at such scenes, it is all in all what   |
|mood you are in; if in the Dantean, the |
|devils will occur to you; if in that    |
|of Isaiah, the archangels. Standing     |
|at the mast-head of my ship during a    |
|sunrise that crimsoned sky and sea, I   |
|once saw a large herd of whales in the  |
|east, all heading towards the sun, and  |
|for a moment vibrating in concert with  |
|peaked flukes. As it seemed to me at    |
|the time, such a grand embodiment of    |
|adoration of the gods was never beheld, |
|even in Persia, the home of the fire    |
|worshippers. As Ptolemy Philopater      |
|testified of the African elephant, I    |
|then testified of the whale, pronouncing|
|him the most devout of all beings. For  |
|according to King Juba, the military    |
|elephants of antiquity often hailed     |
|the morning with their trunks uplifted  |
|in the profoundest silence. The chance  |
|comparison in this chapter, between the |
|whale and the elephant, so far as some  |
|aspects of the tail of the one and the  |
|trunk of the other are concerned, should|
|not tend to place those two opposite    |
|organs on an equality, much less the    |
|creatures to which they respectively    |
|belong. For as the mightiest elephant is|
|but a terrier to Leviathan, so, compared|
|with Leviathan's tail, his trunk is but |
|the stalk of a lily. The most direful   |
|blow from the elephant's trunk were as  |
|the playful tap of a fan, compared with |
|the measureless crush and crash of the  |
|sperm whale's ponderous flukes, which   |
|in repeated instances have one after    |
|the other hurled entire boats with all  |
|their oars and crews into the air, very |
|much as an Indian juggler tosses his    |
|balls. Though all comparison in the way |
|of general bulk between the whale and   |
|the elephant is preposterous, inasmuch  |
|as in that particular the elephant      |
|stands in much the same respect to the  |
|whale that a dog does to the elephant;  |
|nevertheless, there are not wanting some|
|points of curious similitude; among     |
|these is the spout. It is well known    |
|that the elephant will often draw up    |
|water or dust in his trunk, and then    |
|elevating it, jet it forth in a stream. |
|The more I consider this mighty tail,   |
|the more do I deplore my inability to   |
|express it. At times there are gestures |
|in it, which, though they would well    |
|grace the hand of man, remain wholly    |
|inexplicable. In an extensive herd, so  |
|remarkable, occasionally, are these     |
|mystic gestures, that I have heard      |
|hunters who have declared them akin     |
|to Free-Mason signs and symbols; that   |
|the whale, indeed, by these methods     |
|intelligently conversed with the world. |
|Nor are there wanting other motions of  |
|the whale in his general body, full of  |
|strangeness, and unaccountable to his   |
|most experienced assailant. Dissect him |
|how I may, then, I but go skin deep; I  |
|know him not, and never will. But if I  |
|know not even the tail of this whale,   |
|how understand his head? much more,     |
|how comprehend his face, when face      |
|he has none? Thou shalt see my back     |
|parts, my tail, he seems to say, but my |
|face shall not be seen. But I cannot    |
|completely make out his back parts; and |
|hint what he will about his face, I     |
|say again he has no face. The long and  |
|narrow peninsula of Malacca, extending  |
|south-eastward from the territories of  |
|Birmah, forms the most southerly point  |
|of all Asia. In a continuous line from  |
|that peninsula stretch the long islands |
|of Sumatra, Java, Bally, and Timor;     |
|which, with many others, form a vast    |
|mole, or rampart, lengthwise connecting |
|Asia with Australia, and dividing the   |
|long unbroken Indian ocean from the     |
|thickly studded oriental archipelagoes. |
|This rampart is pierced by several      |
|sally-ports for the convenience of ships|
|and whales; conspicuous among which are |
|the straits of Sunda and Malacca. By the|
|straits of Sunda, chiefly, vessels bound|
|to China from the west, emerge into     |
|the China seas. Those narrow straits    |
|of Sunda divide Sumatra from Java; and  |
|standing midway in that vast rampart of |
|islands, buttressed by that bold green  |
|promontory, known to seamen as Java     |
|Head; they not a little correspond to   |
|the central gateway opening into some   |
|vast walled empire: and considering the |
|inexhaustible wealth of spices, and     |
|silks, and jewels, and gold, and ivory, |
|with which the thousand islands of that |
|oriental sea are enriched, it seems a   |
|significant provision of nature, that   |
|such treasures, by the very formation   |
|of the land, should at least bear the   |
|appearance, however ineffectual, of     |
|being guarded from the all-grasping     |
|western world. The shores of the Straits|
|of Sunda are unsupplied with those      |
|domineering fortresses which guard the  |
|entrances to the Mediterranean, the     |
|Baltic, and the Propontis. Unlike the   |
|Danes, these Orientals do not demand the|
|obsequious homage of lowered top-sails  |
|from the endless procession of ships    |
|before the wind, which for centuries    |
|past, by night and by day, have passed  |
|between the islands of Sumatra and Java,|
|freighted with the costliest cargoes of |
|the east. But while they freely waive   |
|a ceremonial like this, they do by no   |
|means renounce their claim to more      |
|solid tribute. Time out of mind the     |
|piratical proas of the Malays, lurking  |
|among the low shaded coves and islets   |
|of Sumatra, have sallied out upon the   |
|vessels sailing through the straits,    |
|fiercely demanding tribute at the point |
|of their spears. Though by the repeated |
|bloody chastisements they have received |
|at the hands of European cruisers, the  |
|audacity of these corsairs has of late  |
|been somewhat repressed; yet, even at   |
|the present day, we occasionally hear of|
|English and American vessels, which, in |
|those waters, have been remorselessly   |
|boarded and pillaged. With a fair,      |
|fresh wind, the Pequod was now drawing  |
|nigh to these straits; Ahab purposing   |
|to pass through them into the Javan     |
|sea, and thence, cruising northwards,   |
|over waters known to be frequented here |
|and there by the Sperm Whale, sweep     |
|inshore by the Philippine Islands, and  |
|gain the far coast of Japan, in time    |
|for the great whaling season there.     |
|By these means, the circumnavigating    |
|Pequod would sweep almost all the known |
|Sperm Whale cruising grounds of the     |
|world, previous to descending upon the  |
|Line in the Pacific; where Ahab, though |
|everywhere else foiled in his pursuit,  |
|firmly counted upon giving battle to    |
|Moby Dick, in the sea he was most known |
|to frequent; and at a season when he    |
|might most reasonably be presumed to be |
|haunting it. But how now? in this zoned |
|quest, does Ahab touch no land? does his|
|crew drink air? Surely, he will stop    |
|for water. Nay. For a long time, now,   |
|the circus-running sun has raced within |
|his fiery ring, and needs no sustenance |
|but what's in himself. So Ahab. Mark    |
|this, too, in the whaler. While other   |
|hulls are loaded down with alien stuff, |
|to be transferred to foreign wharves;   |
|the world-wandering whale-ship carries  |
|no cargo but herself and crew, their    |
|weapons and their wants. She has a whole|
|lake's contents bottled in her ample    |
|hold. She is ballasted with utilities;  |
|not altogether with unusable pig-lead   |
|and kentledge. She carries years' water |
|in her. Clear old prime Nantucket water;|
|which, when three years afloat, the     |
|Nantucketer, in the Pacific, prefers to |
|drink before the brackish fluid, but    |
|yesterday rafted off in casks, from the |
|Peruvian or Indian streams. Hence it    |
|is, that, while other ships may have    |
|gone to China from New York, and back   |
|again, touching at a score of ports,    |
|the whale-ship, in all that interval,   |
|may not have sighted one grain of       |
|soil; her crew having seen no man but   |
|floating seamen like themselves. So     |
|that did you carry them the news that   |
|another flood had come; they would only |
|answer--"Well, boys, here's the ark!"   |
|Now, as many Sperm Whales had been      |
|captured off the western coast of Java, |
|in the near vicinity of the Straits of  |
|Sunda; indeed, as most of the ground,   |
|roundabout, was generally recognised    |
|by the fishermen as an excellent spot   |
|for cruising; therefore, as the Pequod  |
|gained more and more upon Java Head,    |
|the look-outs were repeatedly hailed,   |
|and admonished to keep wide awake. But  |
|though the green palmy cliffs of the    |
|land soon loomed on the starboard bow,  |
|and with delighted nostrils the fresh   |
|cinnamon was snuffed in the air, yet    |
|not a single jet was descried. Almost   |
|renouncing all thought of falling in    |
|with any game hereabouts, the ship had  |
|well nigh entered the straits, when     |
|the customary cheering cry was heard    |
|from aloft, and ere long a spectacle    |
|of singular magnificence saluted us.    |
|But here be it premised, that owing to  |
|the unwearied activity with which of    |
|late they have been hunted over all     |
|four oceans, the Sperm Whales, instead  |
|of almost invariably sailing in small   |
|detached companies, as in former times, |
|are now frequently met with in extensive|
|herds, sometimes embracing so great a   |
|multitude, that it would almost seem as |
|if numerous nations of them had sworn   |
|solemn league and covenant for mutual   |
|assistance and protection. To this      |
|aggregation of the Sperm Whale into     |
|such immense caravans, may be imputed   |
|the circumstance that even in the best  |
|cruising grounds, you may now sometimes |
|sail for weeks and months together,     |
|without being greeted by a single spout;|
|and then be suddenly saluted by what    |
|sometimes seems thousands on thousands. |
|Broad on both bows, at the distance of  |
|some two or three miles, and forming a  |
|great semicircle, embracing one half    |
|of the level horizon, a continuous      |
|chain of whale-jets were up-playing and |
|sparkling in the noon-day air. Unlike   |
|the straight perpendicular twin-jets    |
|of the Right Whale, which, dividing     |
|at top, fall over in two branches,      |
|like the cleft drooping boughs of a     |
|willow, the single forward-slanting     |
|spout of the Sperm Whale presents       |
|a thick curled bush of white mist,      |
|continually rising and falling away to  |
|leeward. Seen from the Pequod's deck,   |
|then, as she would rise on a high       |
|hill of the sea, this host of vapoury   |
|spouts, individually curling up into    |
|the air, and beheld through a blending  |
|atmosphere of bluish haze, showed like  |
|the thousand cheerful chimneys of some  |
|dense metropolis, descried of a balmy   |
|autumnal morning, by some horseman on a |
|height. As marching armies approaching  |
|an unfriendly defile in the mountains,  |
|accelerate their march, all eagerness   |
|to place that perilous passage in       |
|their rear, and once more expand in     |
|comparative security upon the plain;    |
|even so did this vast fleet of whales   |
|now seem hurrying forward through       |
|the straits; gradually contracting      |
|the wings of their semicircle, and      |
|swimming on, in one solid, but still    |
|crescentic centre. Crowding all sail    |
|the Pequod pressed after them; the      |
|harpooneers handling their weapons,     |
|and loudly cheering from the heads      |
|of their yet suspended boats. If the    |
|wind only held, little doubt had they,  |
|that chased through these Straits of    |
|Sunda, the vast host would only deploy  |
|into the Oriental seas to witness the   |
|capture of not a few of their number.   |
|And who could tell whether, in that     |
|congregated caravan, Moby Dick himself  |
|might not temporarily be swimming, like |
|the worshipped white-elephant in the    |
|coronation procession of the Siamese! So|
|with stun-sail piled on stun-sail, we   |
|sailed along, driving these leviathans  |
|before us; when, of a sudden, the voice |
|of Tashtego was heard, loudly directing |
|attention to something in our wake.     |
|Corresponding to the crescent in our    |
|van, we beheld another in our rear. It  |
|seemed formed of detached white vapours,|
|rising and falling something like the   |
|spouts of the whales; only they did not |
|so completely come and go; for they     |
|constantly hovered, without finally     |
|disappearing. Levelling his glass at    |
|this sight, Ahab quickly revolved in    |
|his pivot-hole, crying, "Aloft there,   |
|and rig whips and buckets to wet the    |
|sails;--Malays, sir, and after us!"     |
|As if too long lurking behind the       |
|headlands, till the Pequod should fairly|
|have entered the straits, these rascally|
|Asiatics were now in hot pursuit, to    |
|make up for their over-cautious delay.  |
|But when the swift Pequod, with a       |
|fresh leading wind, was herself in hot  |
|chase; how very kind of these tawny     |
|philanthropists to assist in speeding   |
|her on to her own chosen pursuit,--mere |
|riding-whips and rowels to her, that    |
|they were. As with glass under arm,     |
|Ahab to-and-fro paced the deck; in his  |
|forward turn beholding the monsters     |
|he chased, and in the after one the     |
|bloodthirsty pirates chasing him; some  |
|such fancy as the above seemed his. And |
|when he glanced upon the green walls    |
|of the watery defile in which the ship  |
|was then sailing, and bethought him     |
|that through that gate lay the route    |
|to his vengeance, and beheld, how that  |
|through that same gate he was now both  |
|chasing and being chased to his deadly  |
|end; and not only that, but a herd of   |
|remorseless wild pirates and inhuman    |
|atheistical devils were infernally      |
|cheering him on with their curses;--when|
|all these conceits had passed through   |
|his brain, Ahab's brow was left gaunt   |
|and ribbed, like the black sand beach   |
|after some stormy tide has been gnawing |
|it, without being able to drag the firm |
|thing from its place. But thoughts like |
|these troubled very few of the reckless |
|crew; and when, after steadily dropping |
|and dropping the pirates astern, the    |
|Pequod at last shot by the vivid        |
|green Cockatoo Point on the Sumatra     |
|side, emerging at last upon the broad   |
|waters beyond; then, the harpooneers    |
|seemed more to grieve that the swift    |
|whales had been gaining upon the ship,  |
|than to rejoice that the ship had so    |
|victoriously gained upon the Malays.    |
|But still driving on in the wake of the |
|whales, at length they seemed abating   |
|their speed; gradually the ship neared  |
|them; and the wind now dying away, word |
|was passed to spring to the boats. But  |
|no sooner did the herd, by some presumed|
|wonderful instinct of the Sperm Whale,  |
|become notified of the three keels      |
|that were after them,--though as yet a  |
|mile in their rear,--than they rallied  |
|again, and forming in close ranks and   |
|battalions, so that their spouts all    |
|looked like flashing lines of stacked   |
|bayonets, moved on with redoubled       |
|velocity. Stripped to our shirts and    |
|drawers, we sprang to the white-ash, and|
|after several hours' pulling were almost|
|disposed to renounce the chase, when    |
|a general pausing commotion among the   |
|whales gave animating token that they   |
|were now at last under the influence    |
|of that strange perplexity of inert     |
|irresolution, which, when the fishermen |
|perceive it in the whale, they say he is|
|gallied. The compact martial columns in |
|which they had been hitherto rapidly and|
|steadily swimming, were now broken up   |
|in one measureless rout; and like King  |
|Porus' elephants in the Indian battle   |
|with Alexander, they seemed going mad   |
|with consternation. In all directions   |
|expanding in vast irregular circles, and|
|aimlessly swimming hither and thither,  |
|by their short thick spoutings, they    |
|plainly betrayed their distraction of   |
|panic. This was still more strangely    |
|evinced by those of their number,       |
|who, completely paralysed as it were,   |
|helplessly floated like water-logged    |
|dismantled ships on the sea. Had these  |
|Leviathans been but a flock of simple   |
|sheep, pursued over the pasture by      |
|three fierce wolves, they could not     |
|possibly have evinced such excessive    |
|dismay. But this occasional timidity is |
|characteristic of almost all herding    |
|creatures. Though banding together      |
|in tens of thousands, the lion-maned    |
|buffaloes of the West have fled before  |
|a solitary horseman. Witness, too, all  |
|human beings, how when herded together  |
|in the sheepfold of a theatre's pit,    |
|they will, at the slightest alarm of    |
|fire, rush helter-skelter for the       |
|outlets, crowding, trampling, jamming,  |
|and remorselessly dashing each other    |
|to death. Best, therefore, withhold     |
|any amazement at the strangely gallied  |
|whales before us, for there is no folly |
|of the beasts of the earth which is not |
|infinitely outdone by the madness of    |
|men. Though many of the whales, as has  |
|been said, were in violent motion, yet  |
|it is to be observed that as a whole the|
|herd neither advanced nor retreated,    |
|but collectively remained in one place. |
|As is customary in those cases, the     |
|boats at once separated, each making for|
|some one lone whale on the outskirts    |
|of the shoal. In about three minutes'   |
|time, Queequeg's harpoon was flung; the |
|stricken fish darted blinding spray in  |
|our faces, and then running away with   |
|us like light, steered straight for     |
|the heart of the herd. Though such a    |
|movement on the part of the whale struck|
|under such circumstances, is in no wise |
|unprecedented; and indeed is almost     |
|always more or less anticipated; yet    |
|does it present one of the more perilous|
|vicissitudes of the fishery. For as     |
|the swift monster drags you deeper and  |
|deeper into the frantic shoal, you bid  |
|adieu to circumspect life and only exist|
|in a delirious throb. As, blind and     |
|deaf, the whale plunged forward, as if  |
|by sheer power of speed to rid himself  |
|of the iron leech that had fastened to  |
|him; as we thus tore a white gash in    |
|the sea, on all sides menaced as we     |
|flew, by the crazed creatures to and    |
|fro rushing about us; our beset boat    |
|was like a ship mobbed by ice-isles     |
|in a tempest, and striving to steer     |
|through their complicated channels and  |
|straits, knowing not at what moment     |
|it may be locked in and crushed. But    |
|not a bit daunted, Queequeg steered us  |
|manfully; now sheering off from this    |
|monster directly across our route in    |
|advance; now edging away from that,     |
|whose colossal flukes were suspended    |
|overhead, while all the time, Starbuck  |
|stood up in the bows, lance in hand,    |
|pricking out of our way whatever whales |
|he could reach by short darts, for      |
|there was no time to make long ones.    |
|Nor were the oarsmen quite idle, though |
|their wonted duty was now altogether    |
|dispensed with. They chiefly attended   |
|to the shouting part of the business.   |
|"Out of the way, Commodore!" cried one, |
|to a great dromedary that of a sudden   |
|rose bodily to the surface, and for an  |
|instant threatened to swamp us. "Hard   |
|down with your tail, there!" cried a    |
|second to another, which, close to our  |
|gunwale, seemed calmly cooling himself  |
|with his own fan-like extremity. All    |
|whaleboats carry certain curious        |
|contrivances, originally invented by    |
|the Nantucket Indians, called druggs.   |
|Two thick squares of wood of equal size |
|are stoutly clenched together, so that  |
|they cross each other's grain at right  |
|angles; a line of considerable length   |
|is then attached to the middle of this  |
|block, and the other end of the line    |
|being looped, it can in a moment be     |
|fastened to a harpoon. It is chiefly    |
|among gallied whales that this drugg is |
|used. For then, more whales are close   |
|round you than you can possibly chase   |
|at one time. But sperm whales are not   |
|every day encountered; while you may,   |
|then, you must kill all you can. And    |
|if you cannot kill them all at once,    |
|you must wing them, so that they can    |
|be afterwards killed at your leisure.   |
|Hence it is, that at times like these   |
|the drugg, comes into requisition. Our  |
|boat was furnished with three of them.  |
|The first and second were successfully  |
|darted, and we saw the whales           |
|staggeringly running off, fettered by   |
|the enormous sidelong resistance of the |
|towing drugg. They were cramped like    |
|malefactors with the chain and ball.    |
|But upon flinging the third, in the act |
|of tossing overboard the clumsy wooden  |
|block, it caught under one of the seats |
|of the boat, and in an instant tore it  |
|out and carried it away, dropping the   |
|oarsman in the boat's bottom as the     |
|seat slid from under him. On both sides |
|the sea came in at the wounded planks,  |
|but we stuffed two or three drawers and |
|shirts in, and so stopped the leaks for |
|the time. It had been next to impossible|
|to dart these drugged-harpoons, were it |
|not that as we advanced into the herd,  |
|our whale's way greatly diminished;     |
|moreover, that as we went still further |
|and further from the circumference of   |
|commotion, the direful disorders seemed |
|waning. So that when at last the jerking|
|harpoon drew out, and the towing whale  |
|sideways vanished; then, with the       |
|tapering force of his parting momentum, |
|we glided between two whales into the   |
|innermost heart of the shoal, as if from|
|some mountain torrent we had slid into a|
|serene valley lake. Here the storms in  |
|the roaring glens between the outermost |
|whales, were heard but not felt. In this|
|central expanse the sea presented that  |
|smooth satin-like surface, called a     |
|sleek, produced by the subtle moisture  |
|thrown off by the whale in his more     |
|quiet moods. Yes, we were now in that   |
|enchanted calm which they say lurks at  |
|the heart of every commotion. And still |
|in the distracted distance we beheld    |
|the tumults of the outer concentric     |
|circles, and saw successive pods of     |
|whales, eight or ten in each, swiftly   |
|going round and round, like multiplied  |
|spans of horses in a ring; and so       |
|closely shoulder to shoulder, that a    |
|Titanic circus-rider might easily have  |
|over-arched the middle ones, and so     |
|have gone round on their backs. Owing   |
|to the density of the crowd of reposing |
|whales, more immediately surrounding the|
|embayed axis of the herd, no possible   |
|chance of escape was at present afforded|
|us. We must watch for a breach in the   |
|living wall that hemmed us in; the wall |
|that had only admitted us in order to   |
|shut us up. Keeping at the centre of    |
|the lake, we were occasionally visited  |
|by small tame cows and calves; the      |
|women and children of this routed host. |
|Now, inclusive of the occasional wide   |
|intervals between the revolving outer   |
|circles, and inclusive of the spaces    |
|between the various pods in any one     |
|of those circles, the entire area at    |
|this juncture, embraced by the whole    |
|multitude, must have contained at least |
|two or three square miles. At any       |
|rate--though indeed such a test at such |
|a time might be deceptive--spoutings    |
|might be discovered from our low boat   |
|that seemed playing up almost from the  |
|rim of the horizon. I mention this      |
|circumstance, because, as if the cows   |
|and calves had been purposely locked up |
|in this innermost fold; and as if the   |
|wide extent of the herd had hitherto    |
|prevented them from learning the precise|
|cause of its stopping; or, possibly,    |
|being so young, unsophisticated, and    |
|every way innocent and inexperienced;   |
|however it may have been, these smaller |
|whales--now and then visiting our       |
|becalmed boat from the margin of the    |
|lake--evinced a wondrous fearlessness   |
|and confidence, or else a still         |
|becharmed panic which it was impossible |
|not to marvel at. Like household dogs   |
|they came snuffling round us, right up  |
|to our gunwales, and touching them; till|
|it almost seemed that some spell had    |
|suddenly domesticated them. Queequeg    |
|patted their foreheads; Starbuck        |
|scratched their backs with his lance;   |
|but fearful of the consequences, for    |
|the time refrained from darting it.     |
|But far beneath this wondrous world     |
|upon the surface, another and still     |
|stranger world met our eyes as we gazed |
|over the side. For, suspended in those  |
|watery vaults, floated the forms of the |
|nursing mothers of the whales, and those|
|that by their enormous girth seemed     |
|shortly to become mothers. The lake, as |
|I have hinted, was to a considerable    |
|depth exceedingly transparent; and      |
|as human infants while suckling will    |
|calmly and fixedly gaze away from the   |
|breast, as if leading two different     |
|lives at the time; and while yet        |
|drawing mortal nourishment, be still    |
|spiritually feasting upon some unearthly|
|reminiscence;--even so did the young of |
|these whales seem looking up towards    |
|us, but not at us, as if we were but    |
|a bit of Gulfweed in their new-born     |
|sight. Floating on their sides, the     |
|mothers also seemed quietly eyeing us.  |
|One of these little infants, that from  |
|certain queer tokens seemed hardly      |
|a day old, might have measured some     |
|fourteen feet in length, and some six   |
|feet in girth. He was a little frisky;  |
|though as yet his body seemed scarce yet|
|recovered from that irksome position it |
|had so lately occupied in the maternal  |
|reticule; where, tail to head, and all  |
|ready for the final spring, the unborn  |
|whale lies bent like a Tartar's bow.    |
|The delicate side-fins, and the palms   |
|of his flukes, still freshly retained   |
|the plaited crumpled appearance of a    |
|baby's ears newly arrived from foreign  |
|parts. "Line! line!" cried Queequeg,    |
|looking over the gunwale; "him fast! him|
|fast!--Who line him! Who struck?--Two   |
|whale; one big, one little!" "What      |
|ails ye, man?" cried Starbuck. "Look-e  |
|here," said Queequeg, pointing down.    |
|As when the stricken whale, that        |
|from the tub has reeled out hundreds    |
|of fathoms of rope; as, after deep      |
|sounding, he floats up again, and shows |
|the slackened curling line buoyantly    |
|rising and spiralling towards the air;  |
|so now, Starbuck saw long coils of the  |
|umbilical cord of Madame Leviathan,     |
|by which the young cub seemed still     |
|tethered to its dam. Not seldom in      |
|the rapid vicissitudes of the chase,    |
|this natural line, with the maternal    |
|end loose, becomes entangled with the   |
|hempen one, so that the cub is thereby  |
|trapped. Some of the subtlest secrets of|
|the seas seemed divulged to us in this  |
|enchanted pond. We saw young Leviathan  |
|amours in the deep. The sperm whale, as |
|with all other species of the Leviathan,|
|but unlike most other fish, breeds      |
|indifferently at all seasons; after a   |
|gestation which may probably be set down|
|at nine months, producing but one at a  |
|time; though in some few known instances|
|giving birth to an Esau and Jacob:--a   |
|contingency provided for in suckling by |
|two teats, curiously situated, one on   |
|each side of the anus; but the breasts  |
|themselves extend upwards from that.    |
|When by chance these precious parts in  |
|a nursing whale are cut by the hunter's |
|lance, the mother's pouring milk and    |
|blood rivallingly discolour the sea     |
|for rods. The milk is very sweet and    |
|rich; it has been tasted by man; it     |
|might do well with strawberries. When   |
|overflowing with mutual esteem, the     |
|whales salute MORE HOMINUM. And thus,   |
|though surrounded by circle upon circle |
|of consternations and affrights, did    |
|these inscrutable creatures at the      |
|centre freely and fearlessly indulge in |
|all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely|
|revelled in dalliance and delight. But  |
|even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of |
|my being, do I myself still for ever    |
|centrally disport in mute calm; and     |
|while ponderous planets of unwaning woe |
|revolve round me, deep down and deep    |
|inland there I still bathe me in eternal|
|mildness of joy. Meanwhile, as we thus  |
|lay entranced, the occasional sudden    |
|frantic spectacles in the distance      |
|evinced the activity of the other boats,|
|still engaged in drugging the whales on |
|the frontier of the host; or possibly   |
|carrying on the war within the first    |
|circle, where abundance of room and some|
|convenient retreats were afforded them. |
|But the sight of the enraged drugged    |
|whales now and then blindly darting to  |
|and fro across the circles, was nothing |
|to what at last met our eyes. It is     |
|sometimes the custom when fast to a     |
|whale more than commonly powerful and   |
|alert, to seek to hamstring him, as     |
|it were, by sundering or maiming his    |
|gigantic tail-tendon. It is done by     |
|darting a short-handled cutting-spade,  |
|to which is attached a rope for hauling |
|it back again. A whale wounded (as we   |
|afterwards learned) in this part, but   |
|not effectually, as it seemed, had      |
|broken away from the boat, carrying     |
|along with him half of the harpoon line;|
|and in the extraordinary agony of the   |
|wound, he was now dashing among the     |
|revolving circles like the lone mounted |
|desperado Arnold, at the battle of      |
|Saratoga, carrying dismay wherever he   |
|went. But agonizing as was the wound of |
|this whale, and an appalling spectacle  |
|enough, any way; yet the peculiar       |
|horror with which he seemed to inspire  |
|the rest of the herd, was owing to a    |
|cause which at first the intervening    |
|distance obscured from us. But at       |
|length we perceived that by one of the  |
|unimaginable accidents of the fishery,  |
|this whale had become entangled in the  |
|harpoon-line that he towed; he had also |
|run away with the cutting-spade in him; |
|and while the free end of the rope      |
|attached to that weapon, had permanently|
|caught in the coils of the harpoon-line |
|round his tail, the cutting-spade itself|
|had worked loose from his flesh. So     |
|that tormented to madness, he was now   |
|churning through the water, violently   |
|flailing with his flexible tail, and    |
|tossing the keen spade about him,       |
|wounding and murdering his own comrades.|
|This terrific object seemed to recall   |
|the whole herd from their stationary    |
|fright. First, the whales forming the   |
|margin of our lake began to crowd a     |
|little, and tumble against each other,  |
|as if lifted by half spent billows from |
|afar; then the lake itself began faintly|
|to heave and swell; the submarine       |
|bridal-chambers and nurseries vanished; |
|in more and more contracting orbits the |
|whales in the more central circles began|
|to swim in thickening clusters. Yes, the|
|long calm was departing. A low advancing|
|hum was soon heard; and then like to    |
|the tumultuous masses of block-ice      |
|when the great river Hudson breaks up   |
|in Spring, the entire host of whales    |
|came tumbling upon their inner centre,  |
|as if to pile themselves up in one      |
|common mountain. Instantly Starbuck and |
|Queequeg changed places; Starbuck taking|
|the stern. "Oars! Oars!" he intensely   |
|whispered, seizing the helm--"gripe     |
|your oars, and clutch your souls, now!  |
|My God, men, stand by! Shove him off,   |
|you Queequeg--the whale there!--prick   |
|him!--hit him! Stand up--stand up, and  |
|stay so! Spring, men--pull, men; never  |
|mind their backs--scrape them!--scrape  |
|away!" The boat was now all but jammed  |
|between two vast black bulks, leaving a |
|narrow Dardanelles between their long   |
|lengths. But by desperate endeavor we at|
|last shot into a temporary opening; then|
|giving way rapidly, and at the same time|
|earnestly watching for another outlet.  |
|After many similar hair-breadth escapes,|
|we at last swiftly glided into what had |
|just been one of the outer circles,     |
|but now crossed by random whales, all   |
|violently making for one centre. This   |
|lucky salvation was cheaply purchased   |
|by the loss of Queequeg's hat, who,     |
|while standing in the bows to prick the |
|fugitive whales, had his hat taken clean|
|from his head by the air-eddy made by   |
|the sudden tossing of a pair of broad   |
|flukes close by. Riotous and disordered |
|as the universal commotion now was, it  |
|soon resolved itself into what seemed a |
|systematic movement; for having clumped |
|together at last in one dense body, they|
|then renewed their onward flight with   |
|augmented fleetness. Further pursuit was|
|useless; but the boats still lingered   |
|in their wake to pick up what drugged   |
|whales might be dropped astern, and     |
|likewise to secure one which Flask      |
|had killed and waifed. The waif is a    |
|pennoned pole, two or three of which    |
|are carried by every boat; and which,   |
|when additional game is at hand, are    |
|inserted upright into the floating      |
|body of a dead whale, both to mark its  |
|place on the sea, and also as token of  |
|prior possession, should the boats of   |
|any other ship draw near. The result of |
|this lowering was somewhat illustrative |
|of that sagacious saying in the         |
|Fishery,--the more whales the less fish.|
|Of all the drugged whales only one was  |
|captured. The rest contrived to escape  |
|for the time, but only to be taken, as  |
|will hereafter be seen, by some other   |
|craft than the Pequod. The previous     |
|chapter gave account of an immense body |
|or herd of Sperm Whales, and there was  |
|also then given the probable cause      |
|inducing those vast aggregations.       |
|Now, though such great bodies are at    |
|times encountered, yet, as must have    |
|been seen, even at the present day,     |
|small detached bands are occasionally   |
|observed, embracing from twenty to fifty|
|individuals each. Such bands are known  |
|as schools. They generally are of two   |
|sorts; those composed almost entirely of|
|females, and those mustering none but   |
|young vigorous males, or bulls, as they |
|are familiarly designated. In cavalier  |
|attendance upon the school of females,  |
|you invariably see a male of full grown |
|magnitude, but not old; who, upon any   |
|alarm, evinces his gallantry by falling |
|in the rear and covering the flight of  |
|his ladies. In truth, this gentleman    |
|is a luxurious Ottoman, swimming about  |
|over the watery world, surroundingly    |
|accompanied by all the solaces and      |
|endearments of the harem. The contrast  |
|between this Ottoman and his concubines |
|is striking; because, while he is always|
|of the largest leviathanic proportions, |
|the ladies, even at full growth, are    |
|not more than one-third of the bulk     |
|of an average-sized male. They are      |
|comparatively delicate, indeed; I dare  |
|say, not to exceed half a dozen yards   |
|round the waist. Nevertheless, it cannot|
|be denied, that upon the whole they are |
|hereditarily entitled to EMBONPOINT.    |
|It is very curious to watch this        |
|harem and its lord in their indolent    |
|ramblings. Like fashionables, they      |
|are for ever on the move in leisurely   |
|search of variety. You meet them on the |
|Line in time for the full flower of     |
|the Equatorial feeding season, having   |
|just returned, perhaps, from spending   |
|the summer in the Northern seas, and    |
|so cheating summer of all unpleasant    |
|weariness and warmth. By the time they  |
|have lounged up and down the promenade  |
|of the Equator awhile, they start for   |
|the Oriental waters in anticipation of  |
|the cool season there, and so evade the |
|other excessive temperature of the year.|
|When serenely advancing on one of these |
|journeys, if any strange suspicious     |
|sights are seen, my lord whale keeps    |
|a wary eye on his interesting family.   |
|Should any unwarrantably pert young     |
|Leviathan coming that way, presume to   |
|draw confidentially close to one of     |
|the ladies, with what prodigious fury   |
|the Bashaw assails him, and chases      |
|him away! High times, indeed, if        |
|unprincipled young rakes like him are   |
|to be permitted to invade the sanctity  |
|of domestic bliss; though do what the   |
|Bashaw will, he cannot keep the most    |
|notorious Lothario out of his bed;      |
|for, alas! all fish bed in common. As   |
|ashore, the ladies often cause the      |
|most terrible duels among their rival   |
|admirers; just so with the whales, who  |
|sometimes come to deadly battle, and    |
|all for love. They fence with their     |
|long lower jaws, sometimes locking      |
|them together, and so striving for the  |
|supremacy like elks that warringly      |
|interweave their antlers. Not a few     |
|are captured having the deep scars of   |
|these encounters,--furrowed heads,      |
|broken teeth, scolloped fins; and in    |
|some instances, wrenched and dislocated |
|mouths. But supposing the invader of    |
|domestic bliss to betake himself away   |
|at the first rush of the harem's lord,  |
|then is it very diverting to watch that |
|lord. Gently he insinuates his vast     |
|bulk among them again and revels there  |
|awhile, still in tantalizing vicinity   |
|to young Lothario, like pious Solomon   |
|devoutly worshipping among his thousand |
|concubines. Granting other whales to    |
|be in sight, the fishermen will seldom  |
|give chase to one of these Grand Turks; |
|for these Grand Turks are too lavish    |
|of their strength, and hence their      |
|unctuousness is small. As for the sons  |
|and the daughters they beget, why, those|
|sons and daughters must take care of    |
|themselves; at least, with only the     |
|maternal help. For like certain other   |
|omnivorous roving lovers that might     |
|be named, my Lord Whale has no taste    |
|for the nursery, however much for the   |
|bower; and so, being a great traveller, |
|he leaves his anonymous babies all over |
|the world; every baby an exotic. In     |
|good time, nevertheless, as the ardour  |
|of youth declines; as years and dumps   |
|increase; as reflection lends her solemn|
|pauses; in short, as a general lassitude|
|overtakes the sated Turk; then a love   |
|of ease and virtue supplants the love   |
|for maidens; our Ottoman enters upon    |
|the impotent, repentant, admonitory     |
|stage of life, forswears, disbands the  |
|harem, and grown to an exemplary, sulky |
|old soul, goes about all alone among    |
|the meridians and parallels saying      |
|his prayers, and warning each young     |
|Leviathan from his amorous errors. Now, |
|as the harem of whales is called by the |
|fishermen a school, so is the lord and  |
|master of that school technically known |
|as the schoolmaster. It is therefore    |
|not in strict character, however        |
|admirably satirical, that after going   |
|to school himself, he should then go    |
|abroad inculcating not what he learned  |
|there, but the folly of it. His title,  |
|schoolmaster, would very naturally      |
|seem derived from the name bestowed     |
|upon the harem itself, but some have    |
|surmised that the man who first thus    |
|entitled this sort of Ottoman whale,    |
|must have read the memoirs of Vidocq,   |
|and informed himself what sort of       |
|a country-schoolmaster that famous      |
|Frenchman was in his younger days, and  |
|what was the nature of those occult     |
|lessons he inculcated into some of      |
|his pupils. The same secludedness and   |
|isolation to which the schoolmaster     |
|whale betakes himself in his advancing  |
|years, is true of all aged Sperm Whales.|
|Almost universally, a lone whale--as a  |
|solitary Leviathan is called--proves an |
|ancient one. Like venerable moss-bearded|
|Daniel Boone, he will have no one near  |
|him but Nature herself; and her he takes|
|to wife in the wilderness of waters,    |
|and the best of wives she is, though    |
|she keeps so many moody secrets. The    |
|schools composing none but young and    |
|vigorous males, previously mentioned,   |
|offer a strong contrast to the harem    |
|schools. For while those female whales  |
|are characteristically timid, the       |
|young males, or forty-barrel-bulls, as  |
|they call them, are by far the most     |
|pugnacious of all Leviathans, and       |
|proverbially the most dangerous to      |
|encounter; excepting those wondrous     |
|grey-headed, grizzled whales, sometimes |
|met, and these will fight you like      |
|grim fiends exasperated by a penal      |
|gout. The Forty-barrel-bull schools are |
|larger than the harem schools. Like     |
|a mob of young collegians, they are     |
|full of fight, fun, and wickedness,     |
|tumbling round the world at such a      |
|reckless, rollicking rate, that no      |
|prudent underwriter would insure them   |
|any more than he would a riotous        |
|lad at Yale or Harvard. They soon       |
|relinquish this turbulence though,      |
|and when about three-fourths grown,     |
|break up, and separately go about in    |
|quest of settlements, that is, harems.  |
|Another point of difference between     |
|the male and female schools is still    |
|more characteristic of the sexes. Say   |
|you strike a Forty-barrel-bull--poor    |
|devil! all his comrades quit him. But   |
|strike a member of the harem school,    |
|and her companions swim around her      |
|with every token of concern, sometimes  |
|lingering so near her and so long, as   |
|themselves to fall a prey. The allusion |
|to the waif and waif-poles in the last  |
|chapter but one, necessitates some      |
|account of the laws and regulations of  |
|the whale fishery, of which the waif    |
|may be deemed the grand symbol and      |
|badge. It frequently happens that when  |
|several ships are cruising in company,  |
|a whale may be struck by one vessel,    |
|then escape, and be finally killed and  |
|captured by another vessel; and herein  |
|are indirectly comprised many minor     |
|contingencies, all partaking of this one|
|grand feature. For example,--after a    |
|weary and perilous chase and capture of |
|a whale, the body may get loose from the|
|ship by reason of a violent storm; and  |
|drifting far away to leeward, be retaken|
|by a second whaler, who, in a calm,     |
|snugly tows it alongside, without risk  |
|of life or line. Thus the most vexatious|
|and violent disputes would often arise  |
|between the fishermen, were there not   |
|some written or unwritten, universal,   |
|undisputed law applicable to all cases. |
|Perhaps the only formal whaling code    |
|authorized by legislative enactment, was|
|that of Holland. It was decreed by the  |
|States-General in A.D. 1695. But though |
|no other nation has ever had any written|
|whaling law, yet the American fishermen |
|have been their own legislators and     |
|lawyers in this matter. They have       |
|provided a system which for terse       |
|comprehensiveness surpasses Justinian's |
|Pandects and the By-laws of the Chinese |
|Society for the Suppression of Meddling |
|with other People's Business. Yes; these|
|laws might be engraven on a Queen Anne's|
|forthing, or the barb of a harpoon, and |
|worn round the neck, so small are they. |
|I. A Fast-Fish belongs to the party fast|
|to it. II. A Loose-Fish is fair game    |
|for anybody who can soonest catch it.   |
|But what plays the mischief with this   |
|masterly code is the admirable brevity  |
|of it, which necessitates a vast volume |
|of commentaries to expound it. First:   |
|What is a Fast-Fish? Alive or dead a    |
|fish is technically fast, when it is    |
|connected with an occupied ship or boat,|
|by any medium at all controllable by the|
|occupant or occupants,--a mast, an oar, |
|a nine-inch cable, a telegraph wire,    |
|or a strand of cobweb, it is all the    |
|same. Likewise a fish is technically    |
|fast when it bears a waif, or any other |
|recognised symbol of possession; so     |
|long as the party waifing it plainly    |
|evince their ability at any time to     |
|take it alongside, as well as their     |
|intention so to do. These are scientific|
|commentaries; but the commentaries      |
|of the whalemen themselves sometimes    |
|consist in hard words and harder        |
|knocks--the Coke-upon-Littleton of the  |
|fist. True, among the more upright and  |
|honourable whalemen allowances are      |
|always made for peculiar cases, where it|
|would be an outrageous moral injustice  |
|for one party to claim possession of    |
|a whale previously chased or killed     |
|by another party. But others are by     |
|no means so scrupulous. Some fifty      |
|years ago there was a curious case of   |
|whale-trover litigated in England,      |
|wherein the plaintiffs set forth that   |
|after a hard chase of a whale in the    |
|Northern seas; and when indeed they (the|
|plaintiffs) had succeeded in harpooning |
|the fish; they were at last, through    |
|peril of their lives, obliged to forsake|
|not only their lines, but their boat    |
|itself. Ultimately the defendants (the  |
|crew of another ship) came up with the  |
|whale, struck, killed, seized, and      |
|finally appropriated it before the very |
|eyes of the plaintiffs. And when those  |
|defendants were remonstrated with, their|
|captain snapped his fingers in the      |
|plaintiffs' teeth, and assured them that|
|by way of doxology to the deed he had   |
|done, he would now retain their line,   |
|harpoons, and boat, which had remained  |
|attached to the whale at the time of    |
|the seizure. Wherefore the plaintiffs   |
|now sued for the recovery of the value  |
|of their whale, line, harpoons, and     |
|boat. Mr. Erskine was counsel for the   |
|defendants; Lord Ellenborough was the   |
|judge. In the course of the defence,    |
|the witty Erskine went on to illustrate |
|his position, by alluding to a recent   |
|crim. con. case, wherein a gentleman,   |
|after in vain trying to bridle his      |
|wife's viciousness, had at last         |
|abandoned her upon the seas of life;    |
|but in the course of years, repenting   |
|of that step, he instituted an action   |
|to recover possession of her. Erskine   |
|was on the other side; and he then      |
|supported it by saying, that though the |
|gentleman had originally harpooned the  |
|lady, and had once had her fast, and    |
|only by reason of the great stress of   |
|her plunging viciousness, had at last   |
|abandoned her; yet abandon her he did,  |
|so that she became a loose-fish; and    |
|therefore when a subsequent gentleman   |
|re-harpooned her, the lady then became  |
|that subsequent gentleman's property,   |
|along with whatever harpoon might have  |
|been found sticking in her. Now in the  |
|present case Erskine contended that     |
|the examples of the whale and the lady  |
|were reciprocally illustrative of each  |
|other. These pleadings, and the counter |
|pleadings, being duly heard, the very   |
|learned Judge in set terms decided, to  |
|wit,--That as for the boat, he awarded  |
|it to the plaintiffs, because they had  |
|merely abandoned it to save their lives;|
|but that with regard to the controverted|
|whale, harpoons, and line, they belonged|
|to the defendants; the whale, because   |
|it was a Loose-Fish at the time of the  |
|final capture; and the harpoons and     |
|line because when the fish made off     |
|with them, it (the fish) acquired a     |
|property in those articles; and hence   |
|anybody who afterwards took the fish    |
|had a right to them. Now the defendants |
|afterwards took the fish; ergo, the     |
|aforesaid articles were theirs. A common|
|man looking at this decision of the very|
|learned Judge, might possibly object    |
|to it. But ploughed up to the primary   |
|rock of the matter, the two great       |
|principles laid down in the twin whaling|
|laws previously quoted, and applied     |
|and elucidated by Lord Ellenborough in  |
|the above cited case; these two laws    |
|touching Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish, I    |
|say, will, on reflection, be found the  |
|fundamentals of all human jurisprudence;|
|for notwithstanding its complicated     |
|tracery of sculpture, the Temple of the |
|Law, like the Temple of the Philistines,|
|has but two props to stand on. Is it    |
|not a saying in every one's mouth,      |
|Possession is half of the law: that     |
|is, regardless of how the thing came    |
|into possession? But often possession   |
|is the whole of the law. What are the   |
|sinews and souls of Russian serfs and   |
|Republican slaves but Fast-Fish, whereof|
|possession is the whole of the law?     |
|What to the rapacious landlord is the   |
|widow's last mite but a Fast-Fish? What |
|is yonder undetected villain's marble   |
|mansion with a door-plate for a waif;   |
|what is that but a Fast-Fish? What is   |
|the ruinous discount which Mordecai, the|
|broker, gets from poor Woebegone, the   |
|bankrupt, on a loan to keep Woebegone's |
|family from starvation; what is that    |
|ruinous discount but a Fast-Fish? What  |
|is the Archbishop of Savesoul's income  |
|of L100,000 seized from the scant bread |
|and cheese of hundreds of thousands     |
|of broken-backed laborers (all sure     |
|of heaven without any of Savesoul's     |
|help) what is that globular L100,000    |
|but a Fast-Fish? What are the Duke of   |
|Dunder's hereditary towns and hamlets   |
|but Fast-Fish? What to that redoubted   |
|harpooneer, John Bull, is poor Ireland, |
|but a Fast-Fish? What to that apostolic |
|lancer, Brother Jonathan, is Texas but  |
|a Fast-Fish? And concerning all these,  |
|is not Possession the whole of the      |
|law? But if the doctrine of Fast-Fish   |
|be pretty generally applicable, the     |
|kindred doctrine of Loose-Fish is still |
|more widely so. That is internationally |
|and universally applicable. What was    |
|America in 1492 but a Loose-Fish, in    |
|which Columbus struck the Spanish       |
|standard by way of waifing it for his   |
|royal master and mistress? What was     |
|Poland to the Czar? What Greece to      |
|the Turk? What India to England? What   |
|at last will Mexico be to the United    |
|States? All Loose-Fish. What are the    |
|Rights of Man and the Liberties of the  |
|World but Loose-Fish? What all men's    |
|minds and opinions but Loose-Fish? What |
|is the principle of religious belief    |
|in them but a Loose-Fish? What to the   |
|ostentatious smuggling verbalists are   |
|the thoughts of thinkers but Loose-Fish?|
|What is the great globe itself but a    |
|Loose-Fish? And what are you, reader,   |
|but a Loose-Fish and a Fast-Fish, too?  |
|"De balena vero sufficit, si rex habeat |
|caput, et regina caudam." BRACTON, L.   |
|3, C. 3. Latin from the books of the    |
|Laws of England, which taken along with |
|the context, means, that of all whales  |
|captured by anybody on the coast of     |
|that land, the King, as Honourary Grand |
|Harpooneer, must have the head, and the |
|Queen be respectfully presented with the|
|tail. A division which, in the whale,   |
|is much like halving an apple; there    |
|is no intermediate remainder. Now as    |
|this law, under a modified form, is to  |
|this day in force in England; and as it |
|offers in various respects a strange    |
|anomaly touching the general law of     |
|Fast and Loose-Fish, it is here treated |
|of in a separate chapter, on the same   |
|courteous principle that prompts the    |
|English railways to be at the expense   |
|of a separate car, specially reserved   |
|for the accommodation of royalty. In    |
|the first place, in curious proof of    |
|the fact that the above-mentioned       |
|law is still in force, I proceed to     |
|lay before you a circumstance that      |
|happened within the last two years.     |
|It seems that some honest mariners of   |
|Dover, or Sandwich, or some one of the  |
|Cinque Ports, had after a hard chase    |
|succeeded in killing and beaching a     |
|fine whale which they had originally    |
|descried afar off from the shore. Now   |
|the Cinque Ports are partially or       |
|somehow under the jurisdiction of a sort|
|of policeman or beadle, called a Lord   |
|Warden. Holding the office directly from|
|the crown, I believe, all the royal     |
|emoluments incident to the Cinque Port  |
|territories become by assignment his.   |
|By some writers this office is called a |
|sinecure. But not so. Because the Lord  |
|Warden is busily employed at times in   |
|fobbing his perquisites; which are his  |
|chiefly by virtue of that same fobbing  |
|of them. Now when these poor sun-burnt  |
|mariners, bare-footed, and with their   |
|trowsers rolled high up on their eely   |
|legs, had wearily hauled their fat fish |
|high and dry, promising themselves a    |
|good L150 from the precious oil and     |
|bone; and in fantasy sipping rare tea   |
|with their wives, and good ale with     |
|their cronies, upon the strength of     |
|their respective shares; up steps a     |
|very learned and most Christian and     |
|charitable gentleman, with a copy of    |
|Blackstone under his arm; and laying it |
|upon the whale's head, he says--"Hands  |
|off! this fish, my masters, is a        |
|Fast-Fish. I seize it as the Lord       |
|Warden's." Upon this the poor mariners  |
|in their respectful consternation--so   |
|truly English--knowing not what to say, |
|fall to vigorously scratching their     |
|heads all round; meanwhile ruefully     |
|glancing from the whale to the stranger.|
|But that did in nowise mend the matter, |
|or at all soften the hard heart of the  |
|learned gentleman with the copy of      |
|Blackstone. At length one of them, after|
|long scratching about for his ideas,    |
|made bold to speak, "Please, sir, who   |
|is the Lord Warden?" "The Duke." "But   |
|the duke had nothing to do with taking  |
|this fish?" "It is his." "We have been  |
|at great trouble, and peril, and some   |
|expense, and is all that to go to the   |
|Duke's benefit; we getting nothing at   |
|all for our pains but our blisters?"    |
|"It is his." "Is the Duke so very poor  |
|as to be forced to this desperate       |
|mode of getting a livelihood?" "It is   |
|his." "I thought to relieve my old      |
|bed-ridden mother by part of my share   |
|of this whale." "It is his." "Won't     |
|the Duke be content with a quarter or   |
|a half?" "It is his." In a word, the    |
|whale was seized and sold, and his      |
|Grace the Duke of Wellington received   |
|the money. Thinking that viewed in some |
|particular lights, the case might by a  |
|bare possibility in some small degree   |
|be deemed, under the circumstances, a   |
|rather hard one, an honest clergyman of |
|the town respectfully addressed a note  |
|to his Grace, begging him to take the   |
|case of those unfortunate mariners into |
|full consideration. To which my Lord    |
|Duke in substance replied (both letters |
|were published) that he had already done|
|so, and received the money, and would   |
|be obliged to the reverend gentleman    |
|if for the future he (the reverend      |
|gentleman) would decline meddling with  |
|other people's business. Is this the    |
|still militant old man, standing at     |
|the corners of the three kingdoms, on   |
|all hands coercing alms of beggars?     |
|It will readily be seen that in this    |
|case the alleged right of the Duke to   |
|the whale was a delegated one from the  |
|Sovereign. We must needs inquire then   |
|on what principle the Sovereign is      |
|originally invested with that right. The|
|law itself has already been set forth.  |
|But Plowdon gives us the reason for     |
|it. Says Plowdon, the whale so caught   |
|belongs to the King and Queen, "because |
|of its superior excellence." And by the |
|soundest commentators this has ever been|
|held a cogent argument in such matters. |
|But why should the King have the head,  |
|and the Queen the tail? A reason for    |
|that, ye lawyers! In his treatise on    |
|"Queen-Gold," or Queen-pinmoney, an     |
|old King's Bench author, one William    |
|Prynne, thus discourseth: "Ye tail is   |
|ye Queen's, that ye Queen's wardrobe    |
|may be supplied with ye whalebone."     |
|Now this was written at a time when     |
|the black limber bone of the Greenland  |
|or Right whale was largely used in      |
|ladies' bodices. But this same bone is  |
|not in the tail; it is in the head,     |
|which is a sad mistake for a sagacious  |
|lawyer like Prynne. But is the Queen a  |
|mermaid, to be presented with a tail?   |
|An allegorical meaning may lurk here.   |
|There are two royal fish so styled by   |
|the English law writers--the whale and  |
|the sturgeon; both royal property under |
|certain limitations, and nominally      |
|supplying the tenth branch of the       |
|crown's ordinary revenue. I know not    |
|that any other author has hinted of the |
|matter; but by inference it seems to    |
|me that the sturgeon must be divided    |
|in the same way as the whale, the King  |
|receiving the highly dense and elastic  |
|head peculiar to that fish, which,      |
|symbolically regarded, may possibly be  |
|humorously grounded upon some presumed  |
|congeniality. And thus there seems a    |
|reason in all things, even in law. "In  |
|vain it was to rake for Ambergriese     |
|in the paunch of this Leviathan,        |
|insufferable fetor denying not inquiry."|
|SIR T. BROWNE, V.E. It was a week or two|
|after the last whaling scene recounted, |
|and when we were slowly sailing over a  |
|sleepy, vapoury, mid-day sea, that the  |
|many noses on the Pequod's deck proved  |
|more vigilant discoverers than the      |
|three pairs of eyes aloft. A peculiar   |
|and not very pleasant smell was smelt   |
|in the sea. "I will bet something now," |
|said Stubb, "that somewhere hereabouts  |
|are some of those drugged whales we     |
|tickled the other day. I thought they   |
|would keel up before long." Presently,  |
|the vapours in advance slid aside;      |
|and there in the distance lay a ship,   |
|whose furled sails betokened that some  |
|sort of whale must be alongside. As     |
|we glided nearer, the stranger showed   |
|French colours from his peak; and by    |
|the eddying cloud of vulture sea-fowl   |
|that circled, and hovered, and swooped  |
|around him, it was plain that the whale |
|alongside must be what the fishermen    |
|call a blasted whale, that is, a whale  |
|that has died unmolested on the sea, and|
|so floated an unappropriated corpse. It |
|may well be conceived, what an unsavory |
|odor such a mass must exhale; worse than|
|an Assyrian city in the plague, when    |
|the living are incompetent to bury the  |
|departed. So intolerable indeed is it   |
|regarded by some, that no cupidity could|
|persuade them to moor alongside of it.  |
|Yet are there those who will still do   |
|it; notwithstanding the fact that the   |
|oil obtained from such subjects is of a |
|very inferior quality, and by no means  |
|of the nature of attar-of-rose. Coming  |
|still nearer with the expiring breeze,  |
|we saw that the Frenchman had a second  |
|whale alongside; and this second whale  |
|seemed even more of a nosegay than the  |
|first. In truth, it turned out to be    |
|one of those problematical whales that  |
|seem to dry up and die with a sort of   |
|prodigious dyspepsia, or indigestion;   |
|leaving their defunct bodies almost     |
|entirely bankrupt of anything like oil. |
|Nevertheless, in the proper place we    |
|shall see that no knowing fisherman will|
|ever turn up his nose at such a whale as|
|this, however much he may shun blasted  |
|whales in general. The Pequod had now   |
|swept so nigh to the stranger, that     |
|Stubb vowed he recognised his cutting   |
|spade-pole entangled in the lines that  |
|were knotted round the tail of one of   |
|these whales. "There's a pretty fellow, |
|now," he banteringly laughed, standing  |
|in the ship's bows, "there's a jackal   |
|for ye! I well know that these Crappoes |
|of Frenchmen are but poor devils in     |
|the fishery; sometimes lowering their   |
|boats for breakers, mistaking them for  |
|Sperm Whale spouts; yes, and sometimes  |
|sailing from their port with their hold |
|full of boxes of tallow candles, and    |
|cases of snuffers, foreseeing that all  |
|the oil they will get won't be enough   |
|to dip the Captain's wick into; aye,    |
|we all know these things; but look ye,  |
|here's a Crappo that is content with    |
|our leavings, the drugged whale there,  |
|I mean; aye, and is content too with    |
|scraping the dry bones of that other    |
|precious fish he has there. Poor devil! |
|I say, pass round a hat, some one, and  |
|let's make him a present of a little oil|
|for dear charity's sake. For what oil   |
|he'll get from that drugged whale there,|
|wouldn't be fit to burn in a jail; no,  |
|not in a condemned cell. And as for the |
|other whale, why, I'll agree to get     |
|more oil by chopping up and trying out  |
|these three masts of ours, than he'll   |
|get from that bundle of bones; though,  |
|now that I think of it, it may contain  |
|something worth a good deal more than   |
|oil; yes, ambergris. I wonder now if our|
|old man has thought of that. It's worth |
|trying. Yes, I'm for it;" and so saying |
|he started for the quarter-deck. By this|
|time the faint air had become a complete|
|calm; so that whether or no, the Pequod |
|was now fairly entrapped in the smell,  |
|with no hope of escaping except by its  |
|breezing up again. Issuing from the     |
|cabin, Stubb now called his boat's      |
|crew, and pulled off for the stranger.  |
|Drawing across her bow, he perceived    |
|that in accordance with the fanciful    |
|French taste, the upper part of her     |
|stem-piece was carved in the likeness   |
|of a huge drooping stalk, was painted   |
|green, and for thorns had copper spikes |
|projecting from it here and there; the  |
|whole terminating in a symmetrical      |
|folded bulb of a bright red colour. Upon|
|her head boards, in large gilt letters, |
|he read "Bouton de Rose,"--Rose-button, |
|or Rose-bud; and this was the romantic  |
|name of this aromatic ship. Though      |
|Stubb did not understand the BOUTON     |
|part of the inscription, yet the word   |
|ROSE, and the bulbous figure-head put   |
|together, sufficiently explained the    |
|whole to him. "A wooden rose-bud, eh?"  |
|he cried with his hand to his nose,     |
|"that will do very well; but how like   |
|all creation it smells!" Now in order   |
|to hold direct communication with the   |
|people on deck, he had to pull round    |
|the bows to the starboard side, and     |
|thus come close to the blasted whale;   |
|and so talk over it. Arrived then at    |
|this spot, with one hand still to his   |
|nose, he bawled--"Bouton-de-Rose, ahoy! |
|are there any of you Bouton-de-Roses    |
|that speak English?" "Yes," rejoined    |
|a Guernsey-man from the bulwarks, who   |
|turned out to be the chief-mate. "Well, |
|then, my Bouton-de-Rose-bud, have you   |
|seen the White Whale?" "WHAT whale?"    |
|"The WHITE Whale--a Sperm Whale--Moby   |
|Dick, have ye seen him? "Never heard of |
|such a whale. Cachalot Blanche! White   |
|Whale--no." "Very good, then; good bye  |
|now, and I'll call again in a minute."  |
|Then rapidly pulling back towards the   |
|Pequod, and seeing Ahab leaning over the|
|quarter-deck rail awaiting his report,  |
|he moulded his two hands into a trumpet |
|and shouted--"No, Sir! No!" Upon which  |
|Ahab retired, and Stubb returned to the |
|Frenchman. He now perceived that the    |
|Guernsey-man, who had just got into the |
|chains, and was using a cutting-spade,  |
|had slung his nose in a sort of bag.    |
|"What's the matter with your nose,      |
|there?" said Stubb. "Broke it?" "I wish |
|it was broken, or that I didn't have any|
|nose at all!" answered the Guernsey-man,|
|who did not seem to relish the job he   |
|was at very much. "But what are you     |
|holding YOURS for?" "Oh, nothing! It's  |
|a wax nose; I have to hold it on. Fine  |
|day, ain't it? Air rather gardenny, I   |
|should say; throw us a bunch of posies, |
|will ye, Bouton-de-Rose?" "What in the  |
|devil's name do you want here?" roared  |
|the Guernseyman, flying into a sudden   |
|passion. "Oh! keep cool--cool? yes,     |
|that's the word! why don't you pack     |
|those whales in ice while you're working|
|at 'em? But joking aside, though; do    |
|you know, Rose-bud, that it's all       |
|nonsense trying to get any oil out of   |
|such whales? As for that dried up one,  |
|there, he hasn't a gill in his whole    |
|carcase." "I know that well enough; but,|
|d'ye see, the Captain here won't believe|
|it; this is his first voyage; he was a  |
|Cologne manufacturer before. But come   |
|aboard, and mayhap he'll believe you,   |
|if he won't me; and so I'll get out of  |
|this dirty scrape." "Anything to oblige |
|ye, my sweet and pleasant fellow,"      |
|rejoined Stubb, and with that he soon   |
|mounted to the deck. There a queer      |
|scene presented itself. The sailors,    |
|in tasselled caps of red worsted, were  |
|getting the heavy tackles in readiness  |
|for the whales. But they worked rather  |
|slow and talked very fast, and seemed   |
|in anything but a good humor. All their |
|noses upwardly projected from their     |
|faces like so many jib-booms. Now and   |
|then pairs of them would drop their     |
|work, and run up to the mast-head to    |
|get some fresh air. Some thinking they  |
|would catch the plague, dipped oakum    |
|in coal-tar, and at intervals held      |
|it to their nostrils. Others having     |
|broken the stems of their pipes almost  |
|short off at the bowl, were vigorously  |
|puffing tobacco-smoke, so that it       |
|constantly filled their olfactories.    |
|Stubb was struck by a shower of         |
|outcries and anathemas proceeding from  |
|the Captain's round-house abaft; and    |
|looking in that direction saw a fiery   |
|face thrust from behind the door, which |
|was held ajar from within. This was the |
|tormented surgeon, who, after in vain   |
|remonstrating against the proceedings   |
|of the day, had betaken himself to the  |
|Captain's round-house (CABINET he called|
|it) to avoid the pest; but still, could |
|not help yelling out his entreaties     |
|and indignations at times. Marking all  |
|this, Stubb argued well for his scheme, |
|and turning to the Guernsey-man had a   |
|little chat with him, during which the  |
|stranger mate expressed his detestation |
|of his Captain as a conceited ignoramus,|
|who had brought them all into so        |
|unsavory and unprofitable a pickle.     |
|Sounding him carefully, Stubb further   |
|perceived that the Guernsey-man had     |
|not the slightest suspicion concerning  |
|the ambergris. He therefore held his    |
|peace on that head, but otherwise was   |
|quite frank and confidential with him,  |
|so that the two quickly concocted a     |
|little plan for both circumventing and  |
|satirizing the Captain, without his     |
|at all dreaming of distrusting their    |
|sincerity. According to this little     |
|plan of theirs, the Guernsey-man, under |
|cover of an interpreter's office, was   |
|to tell the Captain what he pleased,    |
|but as coming from Stubb; and as for    |
|Stubb, he was to utter any nonsense that|
|should come uppermost in him during the |
|interview. By this time their destined  |
|victim appeared from his cabin. He was  |
|a small and dark, but rather delicate   |
|looking man for a sea-captain, with     |
|large whiskers and moustache, however;  |
|and wore a red cotton velvet vest       |
|with watch-seals at his side. To this   |
|gentleman, Stubb was now politely       |
|introduced by the Guernsey-man, who at  |
|once ostentatiously put on the aspect of|
|interpreting between them. "What shall I|
|say to him first?" said he. "Why," said |
|Stubb, eyeing the velvet vest and the   |
|watch and seals, "you may as well begin |
|by telling him that he looks a sort of  |
|babyish to me, though I don't pretend to|
|be a judge." "He says, Monsieur," said  |
|the Guernsey-man, in French, turning to |
|his captain, "that only yesterday his   |
|ship spoke a vessel, whose captain and  |
|chief-mate, with six sailors, had all   |
|died of a fever caught from a blasted   |
|whale they had brought alongside."      |
|Upon this the captain started, and      |
|eagerly desired to know more. "What     |
|now?" said the Guernsey-man to Stubb.   |
|"Why, since he takes it so easy, tell   |
|him that now I have eyed him carefully, |
|I'm quite certain that he's no more     |
|fit to command a whale-ship than a St.  |
|Jago monkey. In fact, tell him from me  |
|he's a baboon." "He vows and declares,  |
|Monsieur, that the other whale, the     |
|dried one, is far more deadly than the  |
|blasted one; in fine, Monsieur, he      |
|conjures us, as we value our lives, to  |
|cut loose from these fish." Instantly   |
|the captain ran forward, and in a loud  |
|voice commanded his crew to desist from |
|hoisting the cutting-tackles, and at    |
|once cast loose the cables and chains   |
|confining the whales to the ship. "What |
|now?" said the Guernsey-man, when the   |
|Captain had returned to them. "Why, let |
|me see; yes, you may as well tell him   |
|now that--that--in fact, tell him I've  |
|diddled him, and (aside to himself)     |
|perhaps somebody else." "He says,       |
|Monsieur, that he's very happy to have  |
|been of any service to us." Hearing     |
|this, the captain vowed that they were  |
|the grateful parties (meaning himself   |
|and mate) and concluded by inviting     |
|Stubb down into his cabin to drink a    |
|bottle of Bordeaux. "He wants you to    |
|take a glass of wine with him," said    |
|the interpreter. "Thank him heartily;   |
|but tell him it's against my principles |
|to drink with the man I've diddled. In  |
|fact, tell him I must go." "He says,    |
|Monsieur, that his principles won't     |
|admit of his drinking; but that if      |
|Monsieur wants to live another day to   |
|drink, then Monsieur had best drop all  |
|four boats, and pull the ship away from |
|these whales, for it's so calm they     |
|won't drift." By this time Stubb was    |
|over the side, and getting into his     |
|boat, hailed the Guernsey-man to this   |
|effect,--that having a long tow-line in |
|his boat, he would do what he could to  |
|help them, by pulling out the lighter   |
|whale of the two from the ship's side.  |
|While the Frenchman's boats, then, were |
|engaged in towing the ship one way,     |
|Stubb benevolently towed away at his    |
|whale the other way, ostentatiously     |
|slacking out a most unusually long      |
|tow-line. Presently a breeze sprang     |
|up; Stubb feigned to cast off from the  |
|whale; hoisting his boats, the Frenchman|
|soon increased his distance, while the  |
|Pequod slid in between him and Stubb's  |
|whale. Whereupon Stubb quickly pulled   |
|to the floating body, and hailing the   |
|Pequod to give notice of his intentions,|
|at once proceeded to reap the fruit     |
|of his unrighteous cunning. Seizing     |
|his sharp boat-spade, he commenced      |
|an excavation in the body, a little     |
|behind the side fin. You would almost   |
|have thought he was digging a cellar    |
|there in the sea; and when at length    |
|his spade struck against the gaunt      |
|ribs, it was like turning up old Roman  |
|tiles and pottery buried in fat English |
|loam. His boat's crew were all in high  |
|excitement, eagerly helping their chief,|
|and looking as anxious as gold-hunters. |
|And all the time numberless fowls were  |
|diving, and ducking, and screaming, and |
|yelling, and fighting around them. Stubb|
|was beginning to look disappointed,     |
|especially as the horrible nosegay      |
|increased, when suddenly from out the   |
|very heart of this plague, there stole  |
|a faint stream of perfume, which flowed |
|through the tide of bad smells without  |
|being absorbed by it, as one river will |
|flow into and then along with another,  |
|without at all blending with it for a   |
|time. "I have it, I have it," cried     |
|Stubb, with delight, striking something |
|in the subterranean regions, "a purse!  |
|a purse!" Dropping his spade, he thrust |
|both hands in, and drew out handfuls of |
|something that looked like ripe Windsor |
|soap, or rich mottled old cheese; very  |
|unctuous and savory withal. You might   |
|easily dent it with your thumb; it is of|
|a hue between yellow and ash colour. And|
|this, good friends, is ambergris, worth |
|a gold guinea an ounce to any druggist. |
|Some six handfuls were obtained; but    |
|more was unavoidably lost in the sea,   |
|and still more, perhaps, might have     |
|been secured were it not for impatient  |
|Ahab's loud command to Stubb to desist, |
|and come on board, else the ship would  |
|bid them good bye. Now this ambergris   |
|is a very curious substance, and so     |
|important as an article of commerce,    |
|that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born   |
|Captain Coffin was examined at the bar  |
|of the English House of Commons on that |
|subject. For at that time, and indeed   |
|until a comparatively late day, the     |
|precise origin of ambergris remained,   |
|like amber itself, a problem to the     |
|learned. Though the word ambergris      |
|is but the French compound for grey     |
|amber, yet the two substances are       |
|quite distinct. For amber, though       |
|at times found on the sea-coast, is     |
|also dug up in some far inland soils,   |
|whereas ambergris is never found except |
|upon the sea. Besides, amber is a       |
|hard, transparent, brittle, odorless    |
|substance, used for mouth-pieces to     |
|pipes, for beads and ornaments; but     |
|ambergris is soft, waxy, and so highly  |
|fragrant and spicy, that it is largely  |
|used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious|
|candles, hair-powders, and pomatum. The |
|Turks use it in cooking, and also carry |
|it to Mecca, for the same purpose that  |
|frankincense is carried to St. Peter's  |
|in Rome. Some wine merchants drop a few |
|grains into claret, to flavor it. Who   |
|would think, then, that such fine ladies|
|and gentlemen should regale themselves  |
|with an essence found in the inglorious |
|bowels of a sick whale! Yet so it is.   |
|By some, ambergris is supposed to be    |
|the cause, and by others the effect,    |
|of the dyspepsia in the whale. How to   |
|cure such a dyspepsia it were hard to   |
|say, unless by administering three or   |
|four boat loads of Brandreth's pills,   |
|and then running out of harm's way,     |
|as laborers do in blasting rocks. I     |
|have forgotten to say that there were   |
|found in this ambergris, certain hard,  |
|round, bony plates, which at first Stubb|
|thought might be sailors' trowsers      |
|buttons; but it afterwards turned out   |
|that they were nothing more than pieces |
|of small squid bones embalmed in that   |
|manner. Now that the incorruption of    |
|this most fragrant ambergris should     |
|be found in the heart of such decay;    |
|is this nothing? Bethink thee of that   |
|saying of St. Paul in Corinthians, about|
|corruption and incorruption; how that   |
|we are sown in dishonour, but raised    |
|in glory. And likewise call to mind     |
|that saying of Paracelsus about what    |
|it is that maketh the best musk. Also   |
|forget not the strange fact that of all |
|things of ill-savor, Cologne-water, in  |
|its rudimental manufacturing stages, is |
|the worst. I should like to conclude    |
|the chapter with the above appeal, but  |
|cannot, owing to my anxiety to repel a  |
|charge often made against whalemen, and |
|which, in the estimation of some already|
|biased minds, might be considered as    |
|indirectly substantiated by what has    |
|been said of the Frenchman's two whales.|
|Elsewhere in this volume the slanderous |
|aspersion has been disproved, that the  |
|vocation of whaling is throughout a     |
|slatternly, untidy business. But there  |
|is another thing to rebut. They hint    |
|that all whales always smell bad. Now   |
|how did this odious stigma originate?   |
|I opine, that it is plainly traceable   |
|to the first arrival of the Greenland   |
|whaling ships in London, more than two  |
|centuries ago. Because those whalemen   |
|did not then, and do not now, try out   |
|their oil at sea as the Southern ships  |
|have always done; but cutting up the    |
|fresh blubber in small bits, thrust it  |
|through the bung holes of large casks,  |
|and carry it home in that manner; the   |
|shortness of the season in those Icy    |
|Seas, and the sudden and violent storms |
|to which they are exposed, forbidding   |
|any other course. The consequence is,   |
|that upon breaking into the hold, and   |
|unloading one of these whale cemeteries,|
|in the Greenland dock, a savor is       |
|given forth somewhat similar to that    |
|arising from excavating an old city     |
|grave-yard, for the foundations of a    |
|Lying-in-Hospital. I partly surmise     |
|also, that this wicked charge against   |
|whalers may be likewise imputed to the  |
|existence on the coast of Greenland,    |
|in former times, of a Dutch village     |
|called Schmerenburgh or Smeerenberg,    |
|which latter name is the one used by the|
|learned Fogo Von Slack, in his great    |
|work on Smells, a text-book on that     |
|subject. As its name imports (smeer,    |
|fat; berg, to put up), this village was |
|founded in order to afford a place for  |
|the blubber of the Dutch whale fleet to |
|be tried out, without being taken home  |
|to Holland for that purpose. It was a   |
|collection of furnaces, fat-kettles,    |
|and oil sheds; and when the works were  |
|in full operation certainly gave forth  |
|no very pleasant savor. But all this    |
|is quite different with a South Sea     |
|Sperm Whaler; which in a voyage of four |
|years perhaps, after completely filling |
|her hold with oil, does not, perhaps,   |
|consume fifty days in the business of   |
|boiling out; and in the state that it is|
|casked, the oil is nearly scentless. The|
|truth is, that living or dead, if but   |
|decently treated, whales as a species   |
|are by no means creatures of ill odor;  |
|nor can whalemen be recognised, as the  |
|people of the middle ages affected to   |
|detect a Jew in the company, by the     |
|nose. Nor indeed can the whale possibly |
|be otherwise than fragrant, when, as    |
|a general thing, he enjoys such high    |
|health; taking abundance of exercise;   |
|always out of doors; though, it is      |
|true, seldom in the open air. I say,    |
|that the motion of a Sperm Whale's      |
|flukes above water dispenses a perfume, |
|as when a musk-scented lady rustles     |
|her dress in a warm parlor. What then   |
|shall I liken the Sperm Whale to for    |
|fragrance, considering his magnitude?   |
|Must it not be to that famous elephant, |
|with jewelled tusks, and redolent with  |
|myrrh, which was led out of an Indian   |
|town to do honour to Alexander the      |
|Great? It was but some few days after   |
|encountering the Frenchman, that a      |
|most significant event befell the most  |
|insignificant of the Pequod's crew; an  |
|event most lamentable; and which ended  |
|in providing the sometimes madly merry  |
|and predestinated craft with a living   |
|and ever accompanying prophecy of       |
|whatever shattered sequel might prove   |
|her own. Now, in the whale ship, it is  |
|not every one that goes in the boats.   |
|Some few hands are reserved called      |
|ship-keepers, whose province it is to   |
|work the vessel while the boats are     |
|pursuing the whale. As a general thing, |
|these ship-keepers are as hardy fellows |
|as the men comprising the boats' crews. |
|But if there happen to be an unduly     |
|slender, clumsy, or timorous wight in   |
|the ship, that wight is certain to be   |
|made a ship-keeper. It was so in the    |
|Pequod with the little negro Pippin by  |
|nick-name, Pip by abbreviation. Poor    |
|Pip! ye have heard of him before; ye    |
|must remember his tambourine on that    |
|dramatic midnight, so gloomy-jolly.     |
|In outer aspect, Pip and Dough-Boy      |
|made a match, like a black pony and     |
|a white one, of equal developments,     |
|though of dissimilar colour, driven in  |
|one eccentric span. But while hapless   |
|Dough-Boy was by nature dull and torpid |
|in his intellects, Pip, though over     |
|tender-hearted, was at bottom very      |
|bright, with that pleasant, genial,     |
|jolly brightness peculiar to his tribe; |
|a tribe, which ever enjoy all holidays  |
|and festivities with finer, freer relish|
|than any other race. For blacks, the    |
|year's calendar should show naught but  |
|three hundred and sixty-five Fourth of  |
|Julys and New Year's Days. Nor smile so,|
|while I write that this little black was|
|brilliant, for even blackness has its   |
|brilliancy; behold yon lustrous ebony,  |
|panelled in king's cabinets. But Pip    |
|loved life, and all life's peaceable    |
|securities; so that the panic-striking  |
|business in which he had somehow        |
|unaccountably become entrapped, had most|
|sadly blurred his brightness; though,   |
|as ere long will be seen, what was thus |
|temporarily subdued in him, in the end  |
|was destined to be luridly illumined by |
|strange wild fires, that fictitiously   |
|showed him off to ten times the natural |
|lustre with which in his native Tolland |
|County in Connecticut, he had once      |
|enlivened many a fiddler's frolic on    |
|the green; and at melodious even-tide,  |
|with his gay ha-ha! had turned the round|
|horizon into one star-belled tambourine.|
|So, though in the clear air of day,     |
|suspended against a blue-veined neck,   |
|the pure-watered diamond drop will      |
|healthful glow; yet, when the cunning   |
|jeweller would show you the diamond in  |
|its most impressive lustre, he lays it  |
|against a gloomy ground, and then lights|
|it up, not by the sun, but by some      |
|unnatural gases. Then come out those    |
|fiery effulgences, infernally superb;   |
|then the evil-blazing diamond, once the |
|divinest symbol of the crystal skies,   |
|looks like some crown-jewel stolen from |
|the King of Hell. But let us to the     |
|story. It came to pass, that in the     |
|ambergris affair Stubb's after-oarsman  |
|chanced so to sprain his hand, as for   |
|a time to become quite maimed; and,     |
|temporarily, Pip was put into his place.|
|The first time Stubb lowered with him,  |
|Pip evinced much nervousness; but       |
|happily, for that time, escaped close   |
|contact with the whale; and therefore   |
|came off not altogether discreditably;  |
|though Stubb observing him, took care,  |
|afterwards, to exhort him to cherish    |
|his courageousness to the utmost, for   |
|he might often find it needful. Now     |
|upon the second lowering, the boat      |
|paddled upon the whale; and as the fish |
|received the darted iron, it gave its   |
|customary rap, which happened, in this  |
|instance, to be right under poor Pip's  |
|seat. The involuntary consternation of  |
|the moment caused him to leap, paddle   |
|in hand, out of the boat; and in such   |
|a way, that part of the slack whale     |
|line coming against his chest, he       |
|breasted it overboard with him, so as   |
|to become entangled in it, when at last |
|plumping into the water. That instant   |
|the stricken whale started on a fierce  |
|run, the line swiftly straightened; and |
|presto! poor Pip came all foaming up to |
|the chocks of the boat, remorselessly   |
|dragged there by the line, which had    |
|taken several turns around his chest    |
|and neck. Tashtego stood in the bows.   |
|He was full of the fire of the hunt.    |
|He hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching  |
|the boat-knife from its sheath, he      |
|suspended its sharp edge over the line, |
|and turning towards Stubb, exclaimed    |
|interrogatively, "Cut?" Meantime Pip's  |
|blue, choked face plainly looked, Do,   |
|for God's sake! All passed in a flash.  |
|In less than half a minute, this entire |
|thing happened. "Damn him, cut!" roared |
|Stubb; and so the whale was lost and    |
|Pip was saved. So soon as he recovered  |
|himself, the poor little negro was      |
|assailed by yells and execrations from  |
|the crew. Tranquilly permitting these   |
|irregular cursings to evaporate, Stubb  |
|then in a plain, business-like, but     |
|still half humorous manner, cursed Pip  |
|officially; and that done, unofficially |
|gave him much wholesome advice. The     |
|substance was, Never jump from a boat,  |
|Pip, except--but all the rest was       |
|indefinite, as the soundest advice ever |
|is. Now, in general, STICK TO THE BOAT, |
|is your true motto in whaling; but cases|
|will sometimes happen when LEAP FROM    |
|THE BOAT, is still better. Moreover,    |
|as if perceiving at last that if he     |
|should give undiluted conscientious     |
|advice to Pip, he would be leaving him  |
|too wide a margin to jump in for the    |
|future; Stubb suddenly dropped all      |
|advice, and concluded with a peremptory |
|command, "Stick to the boat, Pip, or    |
|by the Lord, I won't pick you up if     |
|you jump; mind that. We can't afford    |
|to lose whales by the likes of you; a   |
|whale would sell for thirty times what  |
|you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that   |
|in mind, and don't jump any more."      |
|Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted, |
|that though man loved his fellow, yet   |
|man is a money-making animal, which     |
|propensity too often interferes with    |
|his benevolence. But we are all in the  |
|hands of the Gods; and Pip jumped again.|
|It was under very similar circumstances |
|to the first performance; but this      |
|time he did not breast out the line;    |
|and hence, when the whale started to    |
|run, Pip was left behind on the sea,    |
|like a hurried traveller's trunk. Alas! |
|Stubb was but too true to his word. It  |
|was a beautiful, bounteous, blue day;   |
|the spangled sea calm and cool, and     |
|flatly stretching away, all round, to   |
|the horizon, like gold-beater's skin    |
|hammered out to the extremest. Bobbing  |
|up and down in that sea, Pip's ebon     |
|head showed like a head of cloves. No   |
|boat-knife was lifted when he fell so   |
|rapidly astern. Stubb's inexorable back |
|was turned upon him; and the whale was  |
|winged. In three minutes, a whole mile  |
|of shoreless ocean was between Pip and  |
|Stubb. Out from the centre of the sea,  |
|poor Pip turned his crisp, curling,     |
|black head to the sun, another lonely   |
|castaway, though the loftiest and the   |
|brightest. Now, in calm weather, to     |
|swim in the open ocean is as easy to    |
|the practised swimmer as to ride in a   |
|spring-carriage ashore. But the awful   |
|lonesomeness is intolerable. The intense|
|concentration of self in the middle of  |
|such a heartless immensity, my God! who |
|can tell it? Mark, how when sailors in  |
|a dead calm bathe in the open sea--mark |
|how closely they hug their ship and only|
|coast along her sides. But had Stubb    |
|really abandoned the poor little negro  |
|to his fate? No; he did not mean to, at |
|least. Because there were two boats in  |
|his wake, and he supposed, no doubt,    |
|that they would of course come up to Pip|
|very quickly, and pick him up; though,  |
|indeed, such considerations towards     |
|oarsmen jeopardized through their own   |
|timidity, is not always manifested by   |
|the hunters in all similar instances;   |
|and such instances not unfrequently     |
|occur; almost invariably in the fishery,|
|a coward, so called, is marked with     |
|the same ruthless detestation peculiar  |
|to military navies and armies. But it   |
|so happened, that those boats, without  |
|seeing Pip, suddenly spying whales      |
|close to them on one side, turned, and  |
|gave chase; and Stubb's boat was now    |
|so far away, and he and all his crew    |
|so intent upon his fish, that Pip's     |
|ringed horizon began to expand around   |
|him miserably. By the merest chance the |
|ship itself at last rescued him; but    |
|from that hour the little negro went    |
|about the deck an idiot; such, at least,|
|they said he was. The sea had jeeringly |
|kept his finite body up, but drowned    |
|the infinite of his soul. Not drowned   |
|entirely, though. Rather carried down   |
|alive to wondrous depths, where strange |
|shapes of the unwarped primal world     |
|glided to and fro before his passive    |
|eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom,     |
|revealed his hoarded heaps; and among   |
|the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile    |
|eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous,  |
|God-omnipresent, coral insects, that    |
|out of the firmament of waters heaved   |
|the colossal orbs. He saw God's foot    |
|upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke |
|it; and therefore his shipmates called  |
|him mad. So man's insanity is heaven's  |
|sense; and wandering from all mortal    |
|reason, man comes at last to that       |
|celestial thought, which, to reason, is |
|absurd and frantic; and weal or woe,    |
|feels then uncompromised, indifferent   |
|as his God. For the rest, blame not     |
|Stubb too hardly. The thing is common   |
|in that fishery; and in the sequel of   |
|the narrative, it will then be seen what|
|like abandonment befell myself. That    |
|whale of Stubb's, so dearly purchased,  |
|was duly brought to the Pequod's side,  |
|where all those cutting and hoisting    |
|operations previously detailed, were    |
|regularly gone through, even to the     |
|baling of the Heidelburgh Tun, or Case. |
|While some were occupied with this      |
|latter duty, others were employed in    |
|dragging away the larger tubs, so soon  |
|as filled with the sperm; and when the  |
|proper time arrived, this same sperm was|
|carefully manipulated ere going to the  |
|try-works, of which anon. It had cooled |
|and crystallized to such a degree, that |
|when, with several others, I sat down   |
|before a large Constantine's bath of    |
|it, I found it strangely concreted into |
|lumps, here and there rolling about in  |
|the liquid part. It was our business to |
|squeeze these lumps back into fluid.    |
|A sweet and unctuous duty! No wonder    |
|that in old times this sperm was such   |
|a favourite cosmetic. Such a clearer!   |
|such a sweetener! such a softener! such |
|a delicious molifier! After having my   |
|hands in it for only a few minutes, my  |
|fingers felt like eels, and began, as   |
|it were, to serpentine and spiralise.   |
|As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged |
|on the deck; after the bitter exertion  |
|at the windlass; under a blue tranquil  |
|sky; the ship under indolent sail, and  |
|gliding so serenely along; as I bathed  |
|my hands among those soft, gentle       |
|globules of infiltrated tissues, woven  |
|almost within the hour; as they richly  |
|broke to my fingers, and discharged     |
|all their opulence, like fully ripe     |
|grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that |
|uncontaminated aroma,--literally and    |
|truly, like the smell of spring violets;|
|I declare to you, that for the time I   |
|lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot    |
|all about our horrible oath; in that    |
|inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands  |
|and my heart of it; I almost began to   |
|credit the old Paracelsan superstition  |
|that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying|
|the heat of anger; while bathing in     |
|that bath, I felt divinely free from    |
|all ill-will, or petulance, or malice,  |
|of any sort whatsoever. Squeeze!        |
|squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; |
|I squeezed that sperm till I myself     |
|almost melted into it; I squeezed that  |
|sperm till a strange sort of insanity   |
|came over me; and I found myself        |
|unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers'   |
|hands in it, mistaking their hands for  |
|the gentle globules. Such an abounding, |
|affectionate, friendly, loving feeling  |
|did this avocation beget; that at last  |
|I was continually squeezing their       |
|hands, and looking up into their eyes   |
|sentimentally; as much as to say,--Oh!  |
|my dear fellow beings, why should we    |
|longer cherish any social acerbities, or|
|know the slightest ill-humor or envy!   |
|Come; let us squeeze hands all round;   |
|nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into  |
|each other; let us squeeze ourselves    |
|universally into the very milk and      |
|sperm of kindness. Would that I could   |
|keep squeezing that sperm for ever!     |
|For now, since by many prolonged,       |
|repeated experiences, I have perceived  |
|that in all cases man must eventually   |
|lower, or at least shift, his conceit   |
|of attainable felicity; not placing it  |
|anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; |
|but in the wife, the heart, the bed,    |
|the table, the saddle, the fireside,    |
|the country; now that I have perceived  |
|all this, I am ready to squeeze case    |
|eternally. In thoughts of the visions of|
|the night, I saw long rows of angels in |
|paradise, each with his hands in a jar  |
|of spermaceti. Now, while discoursing   |
|of sperm, it behooves to speak of other |
|things akin to it, in the business      |
|of preparing the sperm whale for the    |
|try-works. First comes white-horse,     |
|so called, which is obtained from the   |
|tapering part of the fish, and also from|
|the thicker portions of his flukes. It  |
|is tough with congealed tendons--a wad  |
|of muscle--but still contains some oil. |
|After being severed from the whale, the |
|white-horse is first cut into portable  |
|oblongs ere going to the mincer. They   |
|look much like blocks of Berkshire      |
|marble. Plum-pudding is the term        |
|bestowed upon certain fragmentary parts |
|of the whale's flesh, here and there    |
|adhering to the blanket of blubber, and |
|often participating to a considerable   |
|degree in its unctuousness. It is a     |
|most refreshing, convivial, beautiful   |
|object to behold. As its name imports,  |
|it is of an exceedingly rich, mottled   |
|tint, with a bestreaked snowy and golden|
|ground, dotted with spots of the deepest|
|crimson and purple. It is plums of      |
|rubies, in pictures of citron. Spite    |
|of reason, it is hard to keep yourself  |
|from eating it. I confess, that once I  |
|stole behind the foremast to try it. It |
|tasted something as I should conceive   |
|a royal cutlet from the thigh of Louis  |
|le Gros might have tasted, supposing    |
|him to have been killed the first day   |
|after the venison season, and that      |
|particular venison season contemporary  |
|with an unusually fine vintage of the   |
|vineyards of Champagne. There is another|
|substance, and a very singular one,     |
|which turns up in the course of this    |
|business, but which I feel it to be very|
|puzzling adequately to describe. It     |
|is called slobgollion; an appellation   |
|original with the whalemen, and even    |
|so is the nature of the substance. It   |
|is an ineffably oozy, stringy affair,   |
|most frequently found in the tubs of    |
|sperm, after a prolonged squeezing,     |
|and subsequent decanting. I hold it     |
|to be the wondrously thin, ruptured     |
|membranes of the case, coalescing.      |
|Gurry, so called, is a term properly    |
|belonging to right whalemen, but        |
|sometimes incidentally used by the      |
|sperm fishermen. It designates the      |
|dark, glutinous substance which is      |
|scraped off the back of the Greenland or|
|right whale, and much of which covers   |
|the decks of those inferior souls who   |
|hunt that ignoble Leviathan. Nippers.   |
|Strictly this word is not indigenous    |
|to the whale's vocabulary. But as       |
|applied by whalemen, it becomes so.     |
|A whaleman's nipper is a short firm     |
|strip of tendinous stuff cut from the   |
|tapering part of Leviathan's tail: it   |
|averages an inch in thickness, and for  |
|the rest, is about the size of the      |
|iron part of a hoe. Edgewise moved      |
|along the oily deck, it operates like   |
|a leathern squilgee; and by nameless    |
|blandishments, as of magic, allures     |
|along with it all impurities. But to    |
|learn all about these recondite matters,|
|your best way is at once to descend     |
|into the blubber-room, and have a long  |
|talk with its inmates. This place       |
|has previously been mentioned as the    |
|receptacle for the blanket-pieces, when |
|stript and hoisted from the whale. When |
|the proper time arrives for cutting up  |
|its contents, this apartment is a scene |
|of terror to all tyros, especially      |
|by night. On one side, lit by a dull    |
|lantern, a space has been left clear    |
|for the workmen. They generally go      |
|in pairs,--a pike-and-gaffman and a     |
|spade-man. The whaling-pike is similar  |
|to a frigate's boarding-weapon of the   |
|same name. The gaff is something like a |
|boat-hook. With his gaff, the gaffman   |
|hooks on to a sheet of blubber, and     |
|strives to hold it from slipping, as    |
|the ship pitches and lurches about.     |
|Meanwhile, the spade-man stands on the  |
|sheet itself, perpendicularly chopping  |
|it into the portable horse-pieces. This |
|spade is sharp as hone can make it; the |
|spademan's feet are shoeless; the thing |
|he stands on will sometimes irresistibly|
|slide away from him, like a sledge. If  |
|he cuts off one of his own toes, or     |
|one of his assistants', would you be    |
|very much astonished? Toes are scarce   |
|among veteran blubber-room men. Had you |
|stepped on board the Pequod at a certain|
|juncture of this post-mortemizing of    |
|the whale; and had you strolled forward |
|nigh the windlass, pretty sure am I that|
|you would have scanned with no small    |
|curiosity a very strange, enigmatical   |
|object, which you would have seen       |
|there, lying along lengthwise in the    |
|lee scuppers. Not the wondrous cistern  |
|in the whale's huge head; not the       |
|prodigy of his unhinged lower jaw; not  |
|the miracle of his symmetrical tail;    |
|none of these would so surprise you, as |
|half a glimpse of that unaccountable    |
|cone,--longer than a Kentuckian is tall,|
|nigh a foot in diameter at the base, and|
|jet-black as Yojo, the ebony idol of    |
|Queequeg. And an idol, indeed, it is;   |
|or, rather, in old times, its likeness  |
|was. Such an idol as that found in the  |
|secret groves of Queen Maachah in Judea;|
|and for worshipping which, King Asa, her|
|son, did depose her, and destroyed the  |
|idol, and burnt it for an abomination at|
|the brook Kedron, as darkly set forth   |
|in the 15th chapter of the First Book   |
|of Kings. Look at the sailor, called    |
|the mincer, who now comes along, and    |
|assisted by two allies, heavily backs   |
|the grandissimus, as the mariners call  |
|it, and with bowed shoulders, staggers  |
|off with it as if he were a grenadier   |
|carrying a dead comrade from the field. |
|Extending it upon the forecastle deck,  |
|he now proceeds cylindrically to remove |
|its dark pelt, as an African hunter     |
|the pelt of a boa. This done he turns   |
|the pelt inside out, like a pantaloon   |
|leg; gives it a good stretching, so     |
|as almost to double its diameter; and   |
|at last hangs it, well spread, in the   |
|rigging, to dry. Ere long, it is taken  |
|down; when removing some three feet of  |
|it, towards the pointed extremity, and  |
|then cutting two slits for arm-holes    |
|at the other end, he lengthwise slips   |
|himself bodily into it. The mincer now  |
|stands before you invested in the full  |
|canonicals of his calling. Immemorial to|
|all his order, this investiture alone   |
|will adequately protect him, while      |
|employed in the peculiar functions of   |
|his office. That office consists in     |
|mincing the horse-pieces of blubber     |
|for the pots; an operation which is     |
|conducted at a curious wooden horse,    |
|planted endwise against the bulwarks,   |
|and with a capacious tub beneath it,    |
|into which the minced pieces drop, fast |
|as the sheets from a rapt orator's desk.|
|Arrayed in decent black; occupying a    |
|conspicuous pulpit; intent on bible     |
|leaves; what a candidate for an         |
|archbishopric, what a lad for a Pope    |
|were this mincer! Bible leaves! Bible   |
|leaves! This is the invariable cry from |
|the mates to the mincer. It enjoins him |
|to be careful, and cut his work into    |
|as thin slices as possible, inasmuch    |
|as by so doing the business of boiling  |
|out the oil is much accelerated, and    |
|its quantity considerably increased,    |
|besides perhaps improving it in quality.|
|Besides her hoisted boats, an American  |
|whaler is outwardly distinguished       |
|by her try-works. She presents the      |
|curious anomaly of the most solid       |
|masonry joining with oak and hemp in    |
|constituting the completed ship. It is  |
|as if from the open field a brick-kiln  |
|were transported to her planks. The     |
|try-works are planted between the       |
|foremast and mainmast, the most roomy   |
|part of the deck. The timbers beneath   |
|are of a peculiar strength, fitted to   |
|sustain the weight of an almost solid   |
|mass of brick and mortar, some ten feet |
|by eight square, and five in height. The|
|foundation does not penetrate the deck, |
|but the masonry is firmly secured to    |
|the surface by ponderous knees of iron  |
|bracing it on all sides, and screwing   |
|it down to the timbers. On the flanks   |
|it is cased with wood, and at top       |
|completely covered by a large, sloping, |
|battened hatchway. Removing this hatch  |
|we expose the great try-pots, two in    |
|number, and each of several barrels'    |
|capacity. When not in use, they are     |
|kept remarkably clean. Sometimes they   |
|are polished with soapstone and sand,   |
|till they shine within like silver      |
|punch-bowls. During the night-watches   |
|some cynical old sailors will crawl into|
|them and coil themselves away there     |
|for a nap. While employed in polishing  |
|them--one man in each pot, side by      |
|side--many confidential communications  |
|are carried on, over the iron lips.     |
|It is a place also for profound         |
|mathematical meditation. It was in      |
|the left hand try-pot of the Pequod,    |
|with the soapstone diligently circling  |
|round me, that I was first indirectly   |
|struck by the remarkable fact, that in  |
|geometry all bodies gliding along the   |
|cycloid, my soapstone for example, will |
|descend from any point in precisely     |
|the same time. Removing the fire-board  |
|from the front of the try-works, the    |
|bare masonry of that side is exposed,   |
|penetrated by the two iron mouths of    |
|the furnaces, directly underneath the   |
|pots. These mouths are fitted with heavy|
|doors of iron. The intense heat of the  |
|fire is prevented from communicating    |
|itself to the deck, by means of a       |
|shallow reservoir extending under the   |
|entire inclosed surface of the works.   |
|By a tunnel inserted at the rear, this  |
|reservoir is kept replenished with water|
|as fast as it evaporates. There are no  |
|external chimneys; they open direct from|
|the rear wall. And here let us go back  |
|for a moment. It was about nine o'clock |
|at night that the Pequod's try-works    |
|were first started on this present      |
|voyage. It belonged to Stubb to oversee |
|the business. "All ready there? Off     |
|hatch, then, and start her. You cook,   |
|fire the works." This was an easy thing,|
|for the carpenter had been thrusting his|
|shavings into the furnace throughout    |
|the passage. Here be it said that in a  |
|whaling voyage the first fire in the    |
|try-works has to be fed for a time      |
|with wood. After that no wood is used,  |
|except as a means of quick ignition     |
|to the staple fuel. In a word, after    |
|being tried out, the crisp, shrivelled  |
|blubber, now called scraps or fritters, |
|still contains considerable of its      |
|unctuous properties. These fritters feed|
|the flames. Like a plethoric burning    |
|martyr, or a self-consuming misanthrope,|
|once ignited, the whale supplies his own|
|fuel and burns by his own body. Would   |
|that he consumed his own smoke! for his |
|smoke is horrible to inhale, and inhale |
|it you must, and not only that, but you |
|must live in it for the time. It has an |
|unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor about    |
|it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of |
|funereal pyres. It smells like the left |
|wing of the day of judgment; it is an   |
|argument for the pit. By midnight the   |
|works were in full operation. We were   |
|clear from the carcase; sail had been   |
|made; the wind was freshening; the wild |
|ocean darkness was intense. But that    |
|darkness was licked up by the fierce    |
|flames, which at intervals forked forth |
|from the sooty flues, and illuminated   |
|every lofty rope in the rigging, as     |
|with the famed Greek fire. The burning  |
|ship drove on, as if remorselessly      |
|commissioned to some vengeful deed. So  |
|the pitch and sulphur-freighted brigs   |
|of the bold Hydriote, Canaris, issuing  |
|from their midnight harbors, with broad |
|sheets of flame for sails, bore down    |
|upon the Turkish frigates, and folded   |
|them in conflagrations. The hatch,      |
|removed from the top of the works, now  |
|afforded a wide hearth in front of them.|
|Standing on this were the Tartarean     |
|shapes of the pagan harpooneers, always |
|the whale-ship's stokers. With huge     |
|pronged poles they pitched hissing      |
|masses of blubber into the scalding     |
|pots, or stirred up the fires beneath,  |
|till the snaky flames darted, curling,  |
|out of the doors to catch them by the   |
|feet. The smoke rolled away in sullen   |
|heaps. To every pitch of the ship there |
|was a pitch of the boiling oil, which   |
|seemed all eagerness to leap into       |
|their faces. Opposite the mouth of the  |
|works, on the further side of the wide  |
|wooden hearth, was the windlass. This   |
|served for a sea-sofa. Here lounged the |
|watch, when not otherwise employed,     |
|looking into the red heat of the fire,  |
|till their eyes felt scorched in their  |
|heads. Their tawny features, now all    |
|begrimed with smoke and sweat, their    |
|matted beards, and the contrasting      |
|barbaric brilliancy of their teeth,     |
|all these were strangely revealed in    |
|the capricious emblazonings of the      |
|works. As they narrated to each other   |
|their unholy adventures, their tales of |
|terror told in words of mirth; as their |
|uncivilized laughter forked upwards     |
|out of them, like the flames from the   |
|furnace; as to and fro, in their front, |
|the harpooneers wildly gesticulated with|
|their huge pronged forks and dippers;   |
|as the wind howled on, and the sea      |
|leaped, and the ship groaned and dived, |
|and yet steadfastly shot her red hell   |
|further and further into the blackness  |
|of the sea and the night, and scornfully|
|champed the white bone in her mouth, and|
|viciously spat round her on all sides;  |
|then the rushing Pequod, freighted      |
|with savages, and laden with fire, and  |
|burning a corpse, and plunging into     |
|that blackness of darkness, seemed the  |
|material counterpart of her monomaniac  |
|commander's soul. So seemed it to me,   |
|as I stood at her helm, and for long    |
|hours silently guided the way of this   |
|fire-ship on the sea. Wrapped, for that |
|interval, in darkness myself, I but the |
|better saw the redness, the madness, the|
|ghastliness of others. The continual    |
|sight of the fiend shapes before me,    |
|capering half in smoke and half in fire,|
|these at last begat kindred visions in  |
|my soul, so soon as I began to yield to |
|that unaccountable drowsiness which ever|
|would come over me at a midnight helm.  |
|But that night, in particular, a strange|
|(and ever since inexplicable) thing     |
|occurred to me. Starting from a brief   |
|standing sleep, I was horribly conscious|
|of something fatally wrong. The jaw-bone|
|tiller smote my side, which leaned      |
|against it; in my ears was the low hum  |
|of sails, just beginning to shake in the|
|wind; I thought my eyes were open; I was|
|half conscious of putting my fingers to |
|the lids and mechanically stretching    |
|them still further apart. But, spite    |
|of all this, I could see no compass     |
|before me to steer by; though it seemed |
|but a minute since I had been watching  |
|the card, by the steady binnacle lamp   |
|illuminating it. Nothing seemed before  |
|me but a jet gloom, now and then made   |
|ghastly by flashes of redness. Uppermost|
|was the impression, that whatever       |
|swift, rushing thing I stood on was not |
|so much bound to any haven ahead as     |
|rushing from all havens astern. A stark,|
|bewildered feeling, as of death, came   |
|over me. Convulsively my hands grasped  |
|the tiller, but with the crazy conceit  |
|that the tiller was, somehow, in some   |
|enchanted way, inverted. My God! what is|
|the matter with me? thought I. Lo! in my|
|brief sleep I had turned myself about,  |
|and was fronting the ship's stern, with |
|my back to her prow and the compass. In |
|an instant I faced back, just in time to|
|prevent the vessel from flying up into  |
|the wind, and very probably capsizing   |
|her. How glad and how grateful the      |
|relief from this unnatural hallucination|
|of the night, and the fatal contingency |
|of being brought by the lee! Look not   |
|too long in the face of the fire, O     |
|man! Never dream with thy hand on the   |
|helm! Turn not thy back to the compass; |
|accept the first hint of the hitching   |
|tiller; believe not the artificial      |
|fire, when its redness makes all things |
|look ghastly. To-morrow, in the natural |
|sun, the skies will be bright; those    |
|who glared like devils in the forking   |
|flames, the morn will show in far other,|
|at least gentler, relief; the glorious, |
|golden, glad sun, the only true         |
|lamp--all others but liars! Nevertheless|
|the sun hides not Virginia's Dismal     |
|Swamp, nor Rome's accursed Campagna, nor|
|wide Sahara, nor all the millions of    |
|miles of deserts and of griefs beneath  |
|the moon. The sun hides not the ocean,  |
|which is the dark side of this earth,   |
|and which is two thirds of this earth.  |
|So, therefore, that mortal man who hath |
|more of joy than sorrow in him, that    |
|mortal man cannot be true--not true,    |
|or undeveloped. With books the same.    |
|The truest of all men was the Man of    |
|Sorrows, and the truest of all books is |
|Solomon's, and Ecclesiastes is the fine |
|hammered steel of woe. "All is vanity." |
|ALL. This wilful world hath not got hold|
|of unchristian Solomon's wisdom yet.    |
|But he who dodges hospitals and jails,  |
|and walks fast crossing graveyards,     |
|and would rather talk of operas than    |
|hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal,      |
|Rousseau, poor devils all of sick men;  |
|and throughout a care-free lifetime     |
|swears by Rabelais as passing wise, and |
|therefore jolly;--not that man is fitted|
|to sit down on tomb-stones, and break   |
|the green damp mould with unfathomably  |
|wondrous Solomon. But even Solomon,     |
|he says, "the man that wandereth out    |
|of the way of understanding shall       |
|remain" (I.E., even while living) "in   |
|the congregation of the dead." Give     |
|not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it  |
|invert thee, deaden thee; as for the    |
|time it did me. There is a wisdom that  |
|is woe; but there is a woe that is      |
|madness. And there is a Catskill eagle  |
|in some souls that can alike dive down  |
|into the blackest gorges, and soar out  |
|of them again and become invisible in   |
|the sunny spaces. And even if he for    |
|ever flies within the gorge, that gorge |
|is in the mountains; so that even in    |
|his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is  |
|still higher than other birds upon the  |
|plain, even though they soar. Had you   |
|descended from the Pequod's try-works to|
|the Pequod's forecastle, where the off  |
|duty watch were sleeping, for one single|
|moment you would have almost thought you|
|were standing in some illuminated shrine|
|of canonized kings and counsellors.     |
|There they lay in their triangular      |
|oaken vaults, each mariner a chiselled  |
|muteness; a score of lamps flashing     |
|upon his hooded eyes. In merchantmen,   |
|oil for the sailor is more scarce than  |
|the milk of queens. To dress in the     |
|dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble  |
|in darkness to his pallet, this is his  |
|usual lot. But the whaleman, as he      |
|seeks the food of light, so he lives in |
|light. He makes his berth an Aladdin's  |
|lamp, and lays him down in it; so that  |
|in the pitchiest night the ship's black |
|hull still houses an illumination. See  |
|with what entire freedom the whaleman   |
|takes his handful of lamps--often but   |
|old bottles and vials, though--to the   |
|copper cooler at the try-works, and     |
|replenishes them there, as mugs of ale  |
|at a vat. He burns, too, the purest     |
|of oil, in its unmanufactured, and,     |
|therefore, unvitiated state; a fluid    |
|unknown to solar, lunar, or astral      |
|contrivances ashore. It is sweet as     |
|early grass butter in April. He goes and|
|hunts for his oil, so as to be sure of  |
|its freshness and genuineness, even as  |
|the traveller on the prairie hunts up   |
|his own supper of game. Already has it  |
|been related how the great leviathan is |
|afar off descried from the mast-head;   |
|how he is chased over the watery moors, |
|and slaughtered in the valleys of the   |
|deep; how he is then towed alongside    |
|and beheaded; and how (on the principle |
|which entitled the headsman of old to   |
|the garments in which the beheaded      |
|was killed) his great padded surtout    |
|becomes the property of his executioner;|
|how, in due time, he is condemned to    |
|the pots, and, like Shadrach, Meshach,  |
|and Abednego, his spermaceti, oil,      |
|and bone pass unscathed through the     |
|fire;--but now it remains to conclude   |
|the last chapter of this part of the    |
|description by rehearsing--singing,     |
|if I may--the romantic proceeding of    |
|decanting off his oil into the casks    |
|and striking them down into the hold,   |
|where once again leviathan returns to   |
|his native profundities, sliding along  |
|beneath the surface as before; but,     |
|alas! never more to rise and blow.      |
|While still warm, the oil, like hot     |
|punch, is received into the six-barrel  |
|casks; and while, perhaps, the ship     |
|is pitching and rolling this way and    |
|that in the midnight sea, the enormous  |
|casks are slewed round and headed over, |
|end for end, and sometimes perilously   |
|scoot across the slippery deck, like    |
|so many land slides, till at last       |
|man-handled and stayed in their course; |
|and all round the hoops, rap, rap, go   |
|as many hammers as can play upon them,  |
|for now, EX OFFICIO, every sailor is    |
|a cooper. At length, when the last      |
|pint is casked, and all is cool, then   |
|the great hatchways are unsealed, the   |
|bowels of the ship are thrown open,     |
|and down go the casks to their final    |
|rest in the sea. This done, the hatches |
|are replaced, and hermetically closed,  |
|like a closet walled up. In the sperm   |
|fishery, this is perhaps one of the     |
|most remarkable incidents in all the    |
|business of whaling. One day the planks |
|stream with freshets of blood and oil;  |
|on the sacred quarter-deck enormous     |
|masses of the whale's head are profanely|
|piled; great rusty casks lie about, as  |
|in a brewery yard; the smoke from the   |
|try-works has besooted all the bulwarks;|
|the mariners go about suffused with     |
|unctuousness; the entire ship seems     |
|great leviathan himself; while on all   |
|hands the din is deafening. But a day   |
|or two after, you look about you, and   |
|prick your ears in this self-same ship; |
|and were it not for the tell-tale boats |
|and try-works, you would all but swear  |
|you trod some silent merchant vessel,   |
|with a most scrupulously neat commander.|
|The unmanufactured sperm oil possesses  |
|a singularly cleansing virtue. This is  |
|the reason why the decks never look so  |
|white as just after what they call an   |
|affair of oil. Besides, from the ashes  |
|of the burned scraps of the whale, a    |
|potent lye is readily made; and whenever|
|any adhesiveness from the back of the   |
|whale remains clinging to the side,     |
|that lye quickly exterminates it. Hands |
|go diligently along the bulwarks,       |
|and with buckets of water and rags      |
|restore them to their full tidiness.    |
|The soot is brushed from the lower      |
|rigging. All the numerous implements    |
|which have been in use are likewise     |
|faithfully cleansed and put away. The   |
|great hatch is scrubbed and placed upon |
|the try-works, completely hiding the    |
|pots; every cask is out of sight; all   |
|tackles are coiled in unseen nooks; and |
|when by the combined and simultaneous   |
|industry of almost the entire ship's    |
|company, the whole of this conscientious|
|duty is at last concluded, then the     |
|crew themselves proceed to their own    |
|ablutions; shift themselves from top    |
|to toe; and finally issue to the        |
|immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow,   |
|as bridegrooms new-leaped from out the  |
|daintiest Holland. Now, with elated     |
|step, they pace the planks in twos      |
|and threes, and humorously discourse    |
|of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine    |
|cambrics; propose to mat the deck;      |
|think of having hanging to the top;     |
|object not to taking tea by moonlight   |
|on the piazza of the forecastle. To     |
|hint to such musked mariners of oil,    |
|and bone, and blubber, were little      |
|short of audacity. They know not the    |
|thing you distantly allude to. Away,    |
|and bring us napkins! But mark: aloft   |
|there, at the three mast heads, stand   |
|three men intent on spying out more     |
|whales, which, if caught, infallibly    |
|will again soil the old oaken furniture,|
|and drop at least one small grease-spot |
|somewhere. Yes; and many is the time,   |
|when, after the severest uninterrupted  |
|labors, which know no night; continuing |
|straight through for ninety-six hours;  |
|when from the boat, where they have     |
|swelled their wrists with all day       |
|rowing on the Line,--they only step     |
|to the deck to carry vast chains, and   |
|heave the heavy windlass, and cut and   |
|slash, yea, and in their very sweatings |
|to be smoked and burned anew by the     |
|combined fires of the equatorial sun    |
|and the equatorial try-works; when,     |
|on the heel of all this, they have      |
|finally bestirred themselves to cleanse |
|the ship, and make a spotless dairy     |
|room of it; many is the time the poor   |
|fellows, just buttoning the necks of    |
|their clean frocks, are startled by     |
|the cry of "There she blows!" and away  |
|they fly to fight another whale, and go |
|through the whole weary thing again. Oh!|
|my friends, but this is man-killing!    |
|Yet this is life. For hardly have we    |
|mortals by long toilings extracted from |
|this world's vast bulk its small but    |
|valuable sperm; and then, with weary    |
|patience, cleansed ourselves from its   |
|defilements, and learned to live here in|
|clean tabernacles of the soul; hardly is|
|this done, when--THERE SHE BLOWS!--the  |
|ghost is spouted up, and away we sail to|
|fight some other world, and go through  |
|young life's old routine again. Oh!     |
|the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras,     |
|that in bright Greece, two thousand     |
|years ago, did die, so good, so wise,   |
|so mild; I sailed with thee along the   |
|Peruvian coast last voyage--and, foolish|
|as I am, taught thee, a green simple    |
|boy, how to splice a rope! Ere now it   |
|has been related how Ahab was wont to   |
|pace his quarter-deck, taking regular   |
|turns at either limit, the binnacle     |
|and mainmast; but in the multiplicity   |
|of other things requiring narration it  |
|has not been added how that sometimes   |
|in these walks, when most plunged in    |
|his mood, he was wont to pause in       |
|turn at each spot, and stand there      |
|strangely eyeing the particular object  |
|before him. When he halted before the   |
|binnacle, with his glance fastened on   |
|the pointed needle in the compass, that |
|glance shot like a javelin with the     |
|pointed intensity of his purpose; and   |
|when resuming his walk he again paused  |
|before the mainmast, then, as the same  |
|riveted glance fastened upon the riveted|
|gold coin there, he still wore the same |
|aspect of nailed firmness, only dashed  |
|with a certain wild longing, if not     |
|hopefulness. But one morning, turning   |
|to pass the doubloon, he seemed to be   |
|newly attracted by the strange figures  |
|and inscriptions stamped on it, as      |
|though now for the first time beginning |
|to interpret for himself in some        |
|monomaniac way whatever significance    |
|might lurk in them. And some certain    |
|significance lurks in all things, else  |
|all things are little worth, and the    |
|round world itself but an empty cipher, |
|except to sell by the cartload, as      |
|they do hills about Boston, to fill up  |
|some morass in the Milky Way. Now this  |
|doubloon was of purest, virgin gold,    |
|raked somewhere out of the heart of     |
|gorgeous hills, whence, east and west,  |
|over golden sands, the head-waters of   |
|many a Pactolus flows. And though now   |
|nailed amidst all the rustiness of      |
|iron bolts and the verdigris of copper  |
|spikes, yet, untouchable and immaculate |
|to any foulness, it still preserved its |
|Quito glow. Nor, though placed amongst  |
|a ruthless crew and every hour passed   |
|by ruthless hands, and through the      |
|livelong nights shrouded with thick     |
|darkness which might cover any pilfering|
|approach, nevertheless every sunrise    |
|found the doubloon where the sunset     |
|left it last. For it was set apart and  |
|sanctified to one awe-striking end; and |
|however wanton in their sailor ways, one|
|and all, the mariners revered it as the |
|white whale's talisman. Sometimes they  |
|talked it over in the weary watch by    |
|night, wondering whose it was to be at  |
|last, and whether he would ever live to |
|spend it. Now those noble golden coins  |
|of South America are as medals of the   |
|sun and tropic token-pieces. Here palms,|
|alpacas, and volcanoes; sun's disks and |
|stars; ecliptics, horns-of-plenty, and  |
|rich banners waving, are in luxuriant   |
|profusion stamped; so that the precious |
|gold seems almost to derive an added    |
|preciousness and enhancing glories, by  |
|passing through those fancy mints, so   |
|Spanishly poetic. It so chanced that    |
|the doubloon of the Pequod was a most   |
|wealthy example of these things. On     |
|its round border it bore the letters,   |
|REPUBLICA DEL ECUADOR: QUITO. So        |
|this bright coin came from a country    |
|planted in the middle of the world,     |
|and beneath the great equator, and      |
|named after it; and it had been cast    |
|midway up the Andes, in the unwaning    |
|clime that knows no autumn. Zoned by    |
|those letters you saw the likeness      |
|of three Andes' summits; from one a     |
|flame; a tower on another; on the third |
|a crowing cock; while arching over      |
|all was a segment of the partitioned    |
|zodiac, the signs all marked with their |
|usual cabalistics, and the keystone     |
|sun entering the equinoctial point at   |
|Libra. Before this equatorial coin,     |
|Ahab, not unobserved by others, was     |
|now pausing. "There's something ever    |
|egotistical in mountain-tops and        |
|towers, and all other grand and lofty   |
|things; look here,--three peaks as      |
|proud as Lucifer. The firm tower, that  |
|is Ahab; the volcano, that is Ahab;     |
|the courageous, the undaunted, and      |
|victorious fowl, that, too, is Ahab;    |
|all are Ahab; and this round gold is    |
|but the image of the rounder globe,     |
|which, like a magician's glass, to each |
|and every man in turn but mirrors back  |
|his own mysterious self. Great pains,   |
|small gains for those who ask the world |
|to solve them; it cannot solve itself.  |
|Methinks now this coined sun wears a    |
|ruddy face; but see! aye, he enters the |
|sign of storms, the equinox! and but    |
|six months before he wheeled out of a   |
|former equinox at Aries! From storm to  |
|storm! So be it, then. Born in throes,  |
|'t is fit that man should live in pains |
|and die in pangs! So be it, then! Here's|
|stout stuff for woe to work on. So be   |
|it, then." "No fairy fingers can have   |
|pressed the gold, but devil's claws     |
|must have left their mouldings there    |
|since yesterday," murmured Starbuck to  |
|himself, leaning against the bulwarks.  |
|"The old man seems to read Belshazzar's |
|awful writing. I have never marked      |
|the coin inspectingly. He goes below;   |
|let me read. A dark valley between      |
|three mighty, heaven-abiding peaks,     |
|that almost seem the Trinity, in some   |
|faint earthly symbol. So in this vale   |
|of Death, God girds us round; and over  |
|all our gloom, the sun of Righteousness |
|still shines a beacon and a hope. If    |
|we bend down our eyes, the dark vale    |
|shows her mouldy soil; but if we lift   |
|them, the bright sun meets our glance   |
|half way, to cheer. Yet, oh, the great  |
|sun is no fixture; and if, at midnight, |
|we would fain snatch some sweet solace  |
|from him, we gaze for him in vain! This |
|coin speaks wisely, mildly, truly, but  |
|still sadly to me. I will quit it, lest |
|Truth shake me falsely." "There now's   |
|the old Mogul," soliloquized Stubb by   |
|the try-works, "he's been twigging it;  |
|and there goes Starbuck from the same,  |
|and both with faces which I should say  |
|might be somewhere within nine fathoms  |
|long. And all from looking at a piece   |
|of gold, which did I have it now on     |
|Negro Hill or in Corlaer's Hook, I'd    |
|not look at it very long ere spending   |
|it. Humph! in my poor, insignificant    |
|opinion, I regard this as queer. I      |
|have seen doubloons before now in my    |
|voyagings; your doubloons of old Spain, |
|your doubloons of Peru, your doubloons  |
|of Chili, your doubloons of Bolivia,    |
|your doubloons of Popayan; with plenty  |
|of gold moidores and pistoles, and joes,|
|and half joes, and quarter joes. What   |
|then should there be in this doubloon   |
|of the Equator that is so killing       |
|wonderful? By Golconda! let me read it  |
|once. Halloa! here's signs and wonders  |
|truly! That, now, is what old Bowditch  |
|in his Epitome calls the zodiac, and    |
|what my almanac below calls ditto. I'll |
|get the almanac and as I have heard     |
|devils can be raised with Daboll's      |
|arithmetic, I'll try my hand at raising |
|a meaning out of these queer curvicues  |
|here with the Massachusetts calendar.   |
|Here's the book. Let's see now. Signs   |
|and wonders; and the sun, he's always   |
|among 'em. Hem, hem, hem; here they     |
|are--here they go--all alive:--Aries, or|
|the Ram; Taurus, or the Bull and Jimimi!|
|here's Gemini himself, or the Twins.    |
|Well; the sun he wheels among 'em. Aye, |
|here on the coin he's just crossing     |
|the threshold between two of twelve     |
|sitting-rooms all in a ring. Book! you  |
|lie there; the fact is, you books must  |
|know your places. You'll do to give us  |
|the bare words and facts, but we come in|
|to supply the thoughts. That's my small |
|experience, so far as the Massachusetts |
|calendar, and Bowditch's navigator,     |
|and Daboll's arithmetic go. Signs and   |
|wonders, eh? Pity if there is nothing   |
|wonderful in signs, and significant in  |
|wonders! There's a clue somewhere; wait |
|a bit; hist--hark! By Jove, I have it!  |
|Look you, Doubloon, your zodiac here is |
|the life of man in one round chapter;   |
|and now I'll read it off, straight out  |
|of the book. Come, Almanack! To begin:  |
|there's Aries, or the Ram--lecherous    |
|dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or     |
|the Bull--he bumps us the first thing;  |
|then Gemini, or the Twins--that is,     |
|Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue,|
|when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and     |
|drags us back; and here, going from     |
|Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in    |
|the path--he gives a few fierce bites   |
|and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, |
|and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that's our  |
|first love; we marry and think to be    |
|happy for aye, when pop comes Libra,    |
|or the Scales--happiness weighed and    |
|found wanting; and while we are very sad|
|about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, |
|as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us  |
|in the rear; we are curing the wound,   |
|when whang come the arrows all round;   |
|Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing  |
|himself. As we pluck out the shafts,    |
|stand aside! here's the battering-ram,  |
|Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt,    |
|he comes rushing, and headlong we       |
|are tossed; when Aquarius, or the       |
|Water-bearer, pours out his whole deluge|
|and drowns us; and to wind up with      |
|Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep. There's|
|a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and  |
|the sun goes through it every year,     |
|and yet comes out of it all alive and   |
|hearty. Jollily he, aloft there, wheels |
|through toil and trouble; and so, alow  |
|here, does jolly Stubb. Oh, jolly's the |
|word for aye! Adieu, Doubloon! But stop;|
|here comes little King-Post; dodge round|
|the try-works, now, and let's hear what |
|he'll have to say. There; he's before   |
|it; he'll out with something presently. |
|So, so; he's beginning." "I see nothing |
|here, but a round thing made of gold,   |
|and whoever raises a certain whale, this|
|round thing belongs to him. So, what's  |
|all this staring been about? It is worth|
|sixteen dollars, that's true; and at two|
|cents the cigar, that's nine hundred    |
|and sixty cigars. I won't smoke dirty   |
|pipes like Stubb, but I like cigars,    |
|and here's nine hundred and sixty of    |
|them; so here goes Flask aloft to spy   |
|'em out." "Shall I call that wise or    |
|foolish, now; if it be really wise it   |
|has a foolish look to it; yet, if it    |
|be really foolish, then has it a sort   |
|of wiseish look to it. But, avast;      |
|here comes our old Manxman--the old     |
|hearse-driver, he must have been, that  |
|is, before he took to the sea. He luffs |
|up before the doubloon; halloa, and goes|
|round on the other side of the mast;    |
|why, there's a horse-shoe nailed on that|
|side; and now he's back again; what does|
|that mean? Hark! he's muttering--voice  |
|like an old worn-out coffee-mill. Prick |
|ears, and listen!" "If the White Whale  |
|be raised, it must be in a month and a  |
|day, when the sun stands in some one of |
|these signs. I've studied signs, and    |
|know their marks; they were taught me   |
|two score years ago, by the old witch in|
|Copenhagen. Now, in what sign will the  |
|sun then be? The horse-shoe sign; for   |
|there it is, right opposite the gold.   |
|And what's the horse-shoe sign? The lion|
|is the horse-shoe sign--the roaring and |
|devouring lion. Ship, old ship! my old  |
|head shakes to think of thee." "There's |
|another rendering now; but still one    |
|text. All sorts of men in one kind of   |
|world, you see. Dodge again! here comes |
|Queequeg--all tattooing--looks like the |
|signs of the Zodiac himself. What says  |
|the Cannibal? As I live he's comparing  |
|notes; looking at his thigh bone; thinks|
|the sun is in the thigh, or in the calf,|
|or in the bowels, I suppose, as the old |
|women talk Surgeon's Astronomy in the   |
|back country. And by Jove, he's found   |
|something there in the vicinity of his  |
|thigh--I guess it's Sagittarius, or     |
|the Archer. No: he don't know what to   |
|make of the doubloon; he takes it for   |
|an old button off some king's trowsers. |
|But, aside again! here comes that       |
|ghost-devil, Fedallah; tail coiled out  |
|of sight as usual, oakum in the toes of |
|his pumps as usual. What does he say,   |
|with that look of his? Ah, only makes a |
|sign to the sign and bows himself; there|
|is a sun on the coin--fire worshipper,  |
|depend upon it. Ho! more and more. This |
|way comes Pip--poor boy! would he had   |
|died, or I; he's half horrible to me.   |
|He too has been watching all of these   |
|interpreters--myself included--and      |
|look now, he comes to read, with that   |
|unearthly idiot face. Stand away again  |
|and hear him. Hark!" "I look, you look, |
|he looks; we look, ye look, they look." |
|"Upon my soul, he's been studying       |
|Murray's Grammar! Improving his mind,   |
|poor fellow! But what's that he says    |
|now--hist!" "I look, you look, he looks;|
|we look, ye look, they look." "Why, he's|
|getting it by heart--hist! again." "I   |
|look, you look, he looks; we look, ye   |
|look, they look." "Well, that's funny." |
|"And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and    |
|they, are all bats; and I'm a crow,     |
|especially when I stand a'top of this   |
|pine tree here. Caw! caw! caw! caw!     |
|caw! caw! Ain't I a crow? And where's   |
|the scare-crow? There he stands; two    |
|bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers,|
|and two more poked into the sleeves of  |
|an old jacket." "Wonder if he means     |
|me?--complimentary!--poor lad!--I       |
|could go hang myself. Any way, for the  |
|present, I'll quit Pip's vicinity. I    |
|can stand the rest, for they have plain |
|wits; but he's too crazy-witty for my   |
|sanity. So, so, I leave him muttering." |
|"Here's the ship's navel, this doubloon |
|here, and they are all on fire to       |
|unscrew it. But, unscrew your navel, and|
|what's the consequence? Then again, if  |
|it stays here, that is ugly, too, for   |
|when aught's nailed to the mast it's a  |
|sign that things grow desperate. Ha,    |
|ha! old Ahab! the White Whale; he'll    |
|nail ye! This is a pine tree. My father,|
|in old Tolland county, cut down a pine  |
|tree once, and found a silver ring grown|
|over in it; some old darkey's wedding   |
|ring. How did it get there? And so      |
|they'll say in the resurrection, when   |
|they come to fish up this old mast,     |
|and find a doubloon lodged in it, with  |
|bedded oysters for the shaggy bark.     |
|Oh, the gold! the precious, precious,   |
|gold! the green miser'll hoard ye soon! |
|Hish! hish! God goes 'mong the worlds   |
|blackberrying. Cook! ho, cook! and cook |
|us! Jenny! hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,     |
|Jenny, Jenny! and get your hoe-cake     |
|done!" "Ship, ahoy! Hast seen the White |
|Whale?" So cried Ahab, once more hailing|
|a ship showing English colours, bearing |
|down under the stern. Trumpet to mouth, |
|the old man was standing in his hoisted |
|quarter-boat, his ivory leg plainly     |
|revealed to the stranger captain, who   |
|was carelessly reclining in his own     |
|boat's bow. He was a darkly-tanned,     |
|burly, good-natured, fine-looking man,  |
|of sixty or thereabouts, dressed in a   |
|spacious roundabout, that hung round him|
|in festoons of blue pilot-cloth; and    |
|one empty arm of this jacket streamed   |
|behind him like the broidered arm of a  |
|hussar's surcoat. "Hast seen the White  |
|Whale!" "See you this?" and withdrawing |
|it from the folds that had hidden it,   |
|he held up a white arm of sperm whale   |
|bone, terminating in a wooden head like |
|a mallet. "Man my boat!" cried Ahab,    |
|impetuously, and tossing about the      |
|oars near him--"Stand by to lower!" In  |
|less than a minute, without quitting    |
|his little craft, he and his crew were  |
|dropped to the water, and were soon     |
|alongside of the stranger. But here a   |
|curious difficulty presented itself. In |
|the excitement of the moment, Ahab had  |
|forgotten that since the loss of his leg|
|he had never once stepped on board of   |
|any vessel at sea but his own, and then |
|it was always by an ingenious and very  |
|handy mechanical contrivance peculiar   |
|to the Pequod, and a thing not to be    |
|rigged and shipped in any other vessel  |
|at a moment's warning. Now, it is no    |
|very easy matter for anybody--except    |
|those who are almost hourly used to it, |
|like whalemen--to clamber up a ship's   |
|side from a boat on the open sea; for   |
|the great swells now lift the boat      |
|high up towards the bulwarks, and then  |
|instantaneously drop it half way down   |
|to the kelson. So, deprived of one leg, |
|and the strange ship of course being    |
|altogether unsupplied with the kindly   |
|invention, Ahab now found himself       |
|abjectly reduced to a clumsy landsman   |
|again; hopelessly eyeing the uncertain  |
|changeful height he could hardly hope   |
|to attain. It has before been hinted,   |
|perhaps, that every little untoward     |
|circumstance that befell him, and which |
|indirectly sprang from his luckless     |
|mishap, almost invariably irritated or  |
|exasperated Ahab. And in the present    |
|instance, all this was heightened by the|
|sight of the two officers of the strange|
|ship, leaning over the side, by the     |
|perpendicular ladder of nailed cleets   |
|there, and swinging towards him a pair  |
|of tastefully-ornamented man-ropes; for |
|at first they did not seem to bethink   |
|them that a one-legged man must be too  |
|much of a cripple to use their sea      |
|bannisters. But this awkwardness only   |
|lasted a minute, because the strange    |
|captain, observing at a glance how      |
|affairs stood, cried out, "I see, I     |
|see!--avast heaving there! Jump, boys,  |
|and swing over the cutting-tackle." As  |
|good luck would have it, they had had a |
|whale alongside a day or two previous,  |
|and the great tackles were still aloft, |
|and the massive curved blubber-hook,    |
|now clean and dry, was still attached   |
|to the end. This was quickly lowered to |
|Ahab, who at once comprehending it all, |
|slid his solitary thigh into the curve  |
|of the hook (it was like sitting in the |
|fluke of an anchor, or the crotch of an |
|apple tree), and then giving the word,  |
|held himself fast, and at the same time |
|also helped to hoist his own weight,    |
|by pulling hand-over-hand upon one of   |
|the running parts of the tackle. Soon   |
|he was carefully swung inside the high  |
|bulwarks, and gently landed upon the    |
|capstan head. With his ivory arm frankly|
|thrust forth in welcome, the other      |
|captain advanced, and Ahab, putting     |
|out his ivory leg, and crossing the     |
|ivory arm (like two sword-fish blades)  |
|cried out in his walrus way, "Aye, aye, |
|hearty! let us shake bones together!--an|
|arm and a leg!--an arm that never can   |
|shrink, d'ye see; and a leg that never  |
|can run. Where did'st thou see the      |
|White Whale?--how long ago?" "The White |
|Whale," said the Englishman, pointing   |
|his ivory arm towards the East, and     |
|taking a rueful sight along it, as if   |
|it had been a telescope; "there I saw   |
|him, on the Line, last season." "And he |
|took that arm off, did he?" asked Ahab, |
|now sliding down from the capstan, and  |
|resting on the Englishman's shoulder,   |
|as he did so. "Aye, he was the cause    |
|of it, at least; and that leg, too?"    |
|"Spin me the yarn," said Ahab; "how was |
|it?" "It was the first time in my life  |
|that I ever cruised on the Line," began |
|the Englishman. "I was ignorant of the  |
|White Whale at that time. Well, one day |
|we lowered for a pod of four or five    |
|whales, and my boat fastened to one of  |
|them; a regular circus horse he was,    |
|too, that went milling and milling round|
|so, that my boat's crew could only trim |
|dish, by sitting all their sterns on the|
|outer gunwale. Presently up breaches    |
|from the bottom of the sea a bouncing   |
|great whale, with a milky-white head and|
|hump, all crows' feet and wrinkles." "It|
|was he, it was he!" cried Ahab, suddenly|
|letting out his suspended breath. "And  |
|harpoons sticking in near his starboard |
|fin." "Aye, aye--they were mine--MY     |
|irons," cried Ahab, exultingly--"but    |
|on!" "Give me a chance, then," said     |
|the Englishman, good-humoredly. "Well,  |
|this old great-grandfather, with the    |
|white head and hump, runs all afoam     |
|into the pod, and goes to snapping      |
|furiously at my fast-line! "Aye, I      |
|see!--wanted to part it; free the       |
|fast-fish--an old trick--I know him."   |
|"How it was exactly," continued the     |
|one-armed commander, "I do not know;    |
|but in biting the line, it got foul of  |
|his teeth, caught there somehow; but we |
|didn't know it then; so that when we    |
|afterwards pulled on the line, bounce   |
|we came plump on to his hump! instead   |
|of the other whale's; that went off     |
|to windward, all fluking. Seeing how    |
|matters stood, and what a noble great   |
|whale it was--the noblest and biggest I |
|ever saw, sir, in my life--I resolved   |
|to capture him, spite of the boiling    |
|rage he seemed to be in. And thinking   |
|the hap-hazard line would get loose, or |
|the tooth it was tangled to might draw  |
|(for I have a devil of a boat's crew    |
|for a pull on a whale-line); seeing all |
|this, I say, I jumped into my first     |
|mate's boat--Mr. Mounttop's here (by the|
|way, Captain--Mounttop; Mounttop--the   |
|captain);--as I was saying, I jumped    |
|into Mounttop's boat, which, d'ye see,  |
|was gunwale and gunwale with mine, then;|
|and snatching the first harpoon, let    |
|this old great-grandfather have it.     |
|But, Lord, look you, sir--hearts and    |
|souls alive, man--the next instant, in  |
|a jiff, I was blind as a bat--both eyes |
|out--all befogged and bedeadened with   |
|black foam--the whale's tail looming    |
|straight up out of it, perpendicular    |
|in the air, like a marble steeple. No   |
|use sterning all, then; but as I was    |
|groping at midday, with a blinding sun, |
|all crown-jewels; as I was groping, I   |
|say, after the second iron, to toss it  |
|overboard--down comes the tail like a   |
|Lima tower, cutting my boat in two,     |
|leaving each half in splinters; and,    |
|flukes first, the white hump backed     |
|through the wreck, as though it was all |
|chips. We all struck out. To escape     |
|his terrible flailings, I seized hold   |
|of my harpoon-pole sticking in him,     |
|and for a moment clung to that like a   |
|sucking fish. But a combing sea dashed  |
|me off, and at the same instant, the    |
|fish, taking one good dart forwards,    |
|went down like a flash; and the barb of |
|that cursed second iron towing along    |
|near me caught me here" (clapping       |
|his hand just below his shoulder);      |
|"yes, caught me just here, I say, and   |
|bore me down to Hell's flames, I was    |
|thinking; when, when, all of a sudden,  |
|thank the good God, the barb ript its   |
|way along the flesh--clear along the    |
|whole length of my arm--came out nigh   |
|my wrist, and up I floated;--and that   |
|gentleman there will tell you the rest  |
|(by the way, captain--Dr. Bunger, ship's|
|surgeon: Bunger, my lad,--the captain). |
|Now, Bunger boy, spin your part of      |
|the yarn." The professional gentleman   |
|thus familiarly pointed out, had been   |
|all the time standing near them, with   |
|nothing specific visible, to denote his |
|gentlemanly rank on board. His face was |
|an exceedingly round but sober one; he  |
|was dressed in a faded blue woollen     |
|frock or shirt, and patched trowsers;   |
|and had thus far been dividing his      |
|attention between a marlingspike he     |
|held in one hand, and a pill-box held   |
|in the other, occasionally casting a    |
|critical glance at the ivory limbs of   |
|the two crippled captains. But, at his  |
|superior's introduction of him to Ahab, |
|he politely bowed, and straightway      |
|went on to do his captain's bidding.    |
|"It was a shocking bad wound," began    |
|the whale-surgeon; "and, taking my      |
|advice, Captain Boomer here, stood      |
|our old Sammy--" "Samuel Enderby is     |
|the name of my ship," interrupted the   |
|one-armed captain, addressing Ahab;     |
|"go on, boy." "Stood our old Sammy off  |
|to the northward, to get out of the     |
|blazing hot weather there on the Line.  |
|But it was no use--I did all I could;   |
|sat up with him nights; was very severe |
|with him in the matter of diet--" "Oh,  |
|very severe!" chimed in the patient     |
|himself; then suddenly altering his     |
|voice, "Drinking hot rum toddies with   |
|me every night, till he couldn't see    |
|to put on the bandages; and sending me  |
|to bed, half seas over, about three     |
|o'clock in the morning. Oh, ye stars!   |
|he sat up with me indeed, and was very  |
|severe in my diet. Oh! a great watcher, |
|and very dietetically severe, is Dr.    |
|Bunger. (Bunger, you dog, laugh out! why|
|don't ye? You know you're a precious    |
|jolly rascal.) But, heave ahead, boy,   |
|I'd rather be killed by you than kept   |
|alive by any other man." "My captain,   |
|you must have ere this perceived,       |
|respected sir"--said the imperturbable  |
|godly-looking Bunger, slightly bowing   |
|to Ahab--"is apt to be facetious at     |
|times; he spins us many clever things   |
|of that sort. But I may as well say--en |
|passant, as the French remark--that I   |
|myself--that is to say, Jack Bunger,    |
|late of the reverend clergy--am a       |
|strict total abstinence man; I never    |
|drink--" "Water!" cried the captain; "he|
|never drinks it; it's a sort of fits    |
|to him; fresh water throws him into     |
|the hydrophobia; but go on--go on with  |
|the arm story." "Yes, I may as well,"   |
|said the surgeon, coolly. "I was about  |
|observing, sir, before Captain Boomer's |
|facetious interruption, that spite of my|
|best and severest endeavors, the wound  |
|kept getting worse and worse; the truth |
|was, sir, it was as ugly gaping wound as|
|surgeon ever saw; more than two feet and|
|several inches long. I measured it with |
|the lead line. In short, it grew black; |
|I knew what was threatened, and off it  |
|came. But I had no hand in shipping     |
|that ivory arm there; that thing is     |
|against all rule"--pointing at it with  |
|the marlingspike--"that is the captain's|
|work, not mine; he ordered the carpenter|
|to make it; he had that club-hammer     |
|there put to the end, to knock some     |
|one's brains out with, I suppose, as    |
|he tried mine once. He flies into       |
|diabolical passions sometimes. Do ye see|
|this dent, sir"--removing his hat, and  |
|brushing aside his hair, and exposing   |
|a bowl-like cavity in his skull, but    |
|which bore not the slightest scarry     |
|trace, or any token of ever having been |
|a wound--"Well, the captain there will  |
|tell you how that came here; he knows." |
|"No, I don't," said the captain, "but   |
|his mother did; he was born with it.    |
|Oh, you solemn rogue, you--you Bunger!  |
|was there ever such another Bunger in   |
|the watery world? Bunger, when you die, |
|you ought to die in pickle, you dog;    |
|you should be preserved to future ages, |
|you rascal." "What became of the White  |
|Whale?" now cried Ahab, who thus far    |
|had been impatiently listening to this  |
|by-play between the two Englishmen.     |
|"Oh!" cried the one-armed captain, "oh, |
|yes! Well; after he sounded, we didn't  |
|see him again for some time; in fact,   |
|as I before hinted, I didn't then know  |
|what whale it was that had served me    |
|such a trick, till some time afterwards,|
|when coming back to the Line, we heard  |
|about Moby Dick--as some call him--and  |
|then I knew it was he." "Did'st thou    |
|cross his wake again?" "Twice." "But    |
|could not fasten?" "Didn't want to try  |
|to: ain't one limb enough? What should  |
|I do without this other arm? And I'm    |
|thinking Moby Dick doesn't bite so      |
|much as he swallows." "Well, then,"     |
|interrupted Bunger, "give him your      |
|left arm for bait to get the right. Do  |
|you know, gentlemen"--very gravely and  |
|mathematically bowing to each Captain   |
|in succession--"Do you know, gentlemen, |
|that the digestive organs of the whale  |
|are so inscrutably constructed by Divine|
|Providence, that it is quite impossible |
|for him to completely digest even a     |
|man's arm? And he knows it too. So that |
|what you take for the White Whale's     |
|malice is only his awkwardness. For he  |
|never means to swallow a single limb; he|
|only thinks to terrify by feints. But   |
|sometimes he is like the old juggling   |
|fellow, formerly a patient of mine in   |
|Ceylon, that making believe swallow     |
|jack-knives, once upon a time let one   |
|drop into him in good earnest, and      |
|there it stayed for a twelvemonth or    |
|more; when I gave him an emetic, and he |
|heaved it up in small tacks, d'ye see.  |
|No possible way for him to digest that  |
|jack-knife, and fully incorporate it    |
|into his general bodily system. Yes,    |
|Captain Boomer, if you are quick enough |
|about it, and have a mind to pawn one   |
|arm for the sake of the privilege of    |
|giving decent burial to the other, why  |
|in that case the arm is yours; only     |
|let the whale have another chance at    |
|you shortly, that's all." "No, thank    |
|ye, Bunger," said the English Captain,  |
|"he's welcome to the arm he has, since I|
|can't help it, and didn't know him then;|
|but not to another one. No more White   |
|Whales for me; I've lowered for him     |
|once, and that has satisfied me. There  |
|would be great glory in killing him,    |
|I know that; and there is a ship-load   |
|of precious sperm in him, but, hark     |
|ye, he's best let alone; don't you      |
|think so, Captain?"--glancing at the    |
|ivory leg. "He is. But he will still    |
|be hunted, for all that. What is best   |
|let alone, that accursed thing is not   |
|always what least allures. He's all     |
|a magnet! How long since thou saw'st    |
|him last? Which way heading?" "Bless    |
|my soul, and curse the foul fiend's,"   |
|cried Bunger, stoopingly walking        |
|round Ahab, and like a dog, strangely   |
|snuffing; "this man's blood--bring      |
|the thermometer!--it's at the boiling   |
|point!--his pulse makes these planks    |
|beat!--sir!"--taking a lancet from his  |
|pocket, and drawing near to Ahab's      |
|arm. "Avast!" roared Ahab, dashing      |
|him against the bulwarks--"Man the      |
|boat! Which way heading?" "Good God!"   |
|cried the English Captain, to whom the  |
|question was put. "What's the matter?   |
|He was heading east, I think.--Is your  |
|Captain crazy?" whispering Fedallah.    |
|But Fedallah, putting a finger on his   |
|lip, slid over the bulwarks to take     |
|the boat's steering oar, and Ahab,      |
|swinging the cutting-tackle towards     |
|him, commanded the ship's sailors to    |
|stand by to lower. In a moment he was   |
|standing in the boat's stern, and the   |
|Manilla men were springing to their     |
|oars. In vain the English Captain hailed|
|him. With back to the stranger ship,    |
|and face set like a flint to his own,   |
|Ahab stood upright till alongside of    |
|the Pequod. Ere the English ship fades  |
|from sight, be it set down here, that   |
|she hailed from London, and was named   |
|after the late Samuel Enderby, merchant |
|of that city, the original of the famous|
|whaling house of Enderby & Sons; a house|
|which in my poor whaleman's opinion,    |
|comes not far behind the united royal   |
|houses of the Tudors and Bourbons, in   |
|point of real historical interest. How  |
|long, prior to the year of our Lord     |
|1775, this great whaling house was in   |
|existence, my numerous fish-documents   |
|do not make plain; but in that year     |
|(1775) it fitted out the first English  |
|ships that ever regularly hunted the    |
|Sperm Whale; though for some score of   |
|years previous (ever since 1726) our    |
|valiant Coffins and Maceys of Nantucket |
|and the Vineyard had in large fleets    |
|pursued that Leviathan, but only in the |
|North and South Atlantic: not elsewhere.|
|Be it distinctly recorded here, that    |
|the Nantucketers were the first among   |
|mankind to harpoon with civilized steel |
|the great Sperm Whale; and that for half|
|a century they were the only people of  |
|the whole globe who so harpooned him. In|
|1778, a fine ship, the Amelia, fitted   |
|out for the express purpose, and at the |
|sole charge of the vigorous Enderbys,   |
|boldly rounded Cape Horn, and was the   |
|first among the nations to lower a      |
|whale-boat of any sort in the great     |
|South Sea. The voyage was a skilful and |
|lucky one; and returning to her berth   |
|with her hold full of the precious      |
|sperm, the Amelia's example was soon    |
|followed by other ships, English and    |
|American, and thus the vast Sperm Whale |
|grounds of the Pacific were thrown open.|
|But not content with this good deed,    |
|the indefatigable house again bestirred |
|itself: Samuel and all his Sons--how    |
|many, their mother only knows--and      |
|under their immediate auspices, and     |
|partly, I think, at their expense, the  |
|British government was induced to send  |
|the sloop-of-war Rattler on a whaling   |
|voyage of discovery into the South Sea. |
|Commanded by a naval Post-Captain, the  |
|Rattler made a rattling voyage of it,   |
|and did some service; how much does not |
|appear. But this is not all. In 1819,   |
|the same house fitted out a discovery   |
|whale ship of their own, to go on a     |
|tasting cruise to the remote waters     |
|of Japan. That ship--well called the    |
|"Syren"--made a noble experimental      |
|cruise; and it was thus that the great  |
|Japanese Whaling Ground first became    |
|generally known. The Syren in this      |
|famous voyage was commanded by a Captain|
|Coffin, a Nantucketer. All honour to    |
|the Enderbies, therefore, whose house,  |
|I think, exists to the present day;     |
|though doubtless the original Samuel    |
|must long ago have slipped his cable    |
|for the great South Sea of the other    |
|world. The ship named after him was     |
|worthy of the honour, being a very fast |
|sailer and a noble craft every way. I   |
|boarded her once at midnight somewhere  |
|off the Patagonian coast, and drank     |
|good flip down in the forecastle. It    |
|was a fine gam we had, and they were    |
|all trumps--every soul on board. A      |
|short life to them, and a jolly death.  |
|And that fine gam I had--long, very     |
|long after old Ahab touched her planks  |
|with his ivory heel--it minds me of the |
|noble, solid, Saxon hospitality of that |
|ship; and may my parson forget me, and  |
|the devil remember me, if I ever lose   |
|sight of it. Flip? Did I say we had     |
|flip? Yes, and we flipped it at the rate|
|of ten gallons the hour; and when the   |
|squall came (for it's squally off there |
|by Patagonia), and all hands--visitors  |
|and all--were called to reef topsails,  |
|we were so top-heavy that we had to     |
|swing each other aloft in bowlines;     |
|and we ignorantly furled the skirts of  |
|our jackets into the sails, so that we  |
|hung there, reefed fast in the howling  |
|gale, a warning example to all drunken  |
|tars. However, the masts did not go     |
|overboard; and by and by we scrambled   |
|down, so sober, that we had to pass the |
|flip again, though the savage salt spray|
|bursting down the forecastle scuttle,   |
|rather too much diluted and pickled it  |
|to my taste. The beef was fine--tough,  |
|but with body in it. They said it was   |
|bull-beef; others, that it was dromedary|
|beef; but I do not know, for certain,   |
|how that was. They had dumplings too;   |
|small, but substantial, symmetrically   |
|globular, and indestructible dumplings. |
|I fancied that you could feel them,     |
|and roll them about in you after they   |
|were swallowed. If you stooped over too |
|far forward, you risked their pitching  |
|out of you like billiard-balls. The     |
|bread--but that couldn't be helped;     |
|besides, it was an anti-scorbutic; in   |
|short, the bread contained the only     |
|fresh fare they had. But the forecastle |
|was not very light, and it was very     |
|easy to step over into a dark corner    |
|when you ate it. But all in all, taking |
|her from truck to helm, considering     |
|the dimensions of the cook's boilers,   |
|including his own live parchment        |
|boilers; fore and aft, I say, the Samuel|
|Enderby was a jolly ship; of good fare  |
|and plenty; fine flip and strong; crack |
|fellows all, and capital from boot heels|
|to hat-band. But why was it, think ye,  |
|that the Samuel Enderby, and some other |
|English whalers I know of--not all      |
|though--were such famous, hospitable    |
|ships; that passed round the beef, and  |
|the bread, and the can, and the joke;   |
|and were not soon weary of eating, and  |
|drinking, and laughing? I will tell     |
|you. The abounding good cheer of these  |
|English whalers is matter for historical|
|research. Nor have I been at all sparing|
|of historical whale research, when it   |
|has seemed needed. The English were     |
|preceded in the whale fishery by the    |
|Hollanders, Zealanders, and Danes; from |
|whom they derived many terms still      |
|extant in the fishery; and what is yet  |
|more, their fat old fashions, touching  |
|plenty to eat and drink. For, as a      |
|general thing, the English merchant-ship|
|scrimps her crew; but not so the English|
|whaler. Hence, in the English, this     |
|thing of whaling good cheer is not      |
|normal and natural, but incidental and  |
|particular; and, therefore, must have   |
|some special origin, which is here      |
|pointed out, and will be still further  |
|elucidated. During my researches in the |
|Leviathanic histories, I stumbled upon  |
|an ancient Dutch volume, which, by the  |
|musty whaling smell of it, I knew must  |
|be about whalers. The title was, "Dan   |
|Coopman," wherefore I concluded that    |
|this must be the invaluable memoirs of  |
|some Amsterdam cooper in the fishery, as|
|every whale ship must carry its cooper. |
|I was reinforced in this opinion by     |
|seeing that it was the production of    |
|one "Fitz Swackhammer." But my friend   |
|Dr. Snodhead, a very learned man,       |
|professor of Low Dutch and High German  |
|in the college of Santa Claus and St.   |
|Pott's, to whom I handed the work for   |
|translation, giving him a box of sperm  |
|candles for his trouble--this same Dr.  |
|Snodhead, so soon as he spied the book, |
|assured me that "Dan Coopman" did not   |
|mean "The Cooper," but "The Merchant."  |
|In short, this ancient and learned Low  |
|Dutch book treated of the commerce of   |
|Holland; and, among other subjects,     |
|contained a very interesting account of |
|its whale fishery. And in this chapter  |
|it was, headed, "Smeer," or "Fat," that |
|I found a long detailed list of the     |
|outfits for the larders and cellars of  |
|180 sail of Dutch whalemen; from which  |
|list, as translated by Dr. Snodhead, I  |
|transcribe the following: 400,000 lbs.  |
|of beef. 60,000 lbs. Friesland pork.    |
|150,000 lbs. of stock fish. 550,000 lbs.|
|of biscuit. 72,000 lbs. of soft bread.  |
|2,800 firkins of butter. 20,000 lbs.    |
|Texel & Leyden cheese. 144,000 lbs.     |
|cheese (probably an inferior article).  |
|550 ankers of Geneva. 10,800 barrels    |
|of beer. Most statistical tables are    |
|parchingly dry in the reading; not so   |
|in the present case, however, where     |
|the reader is flooded with whole        |
|pipes, barrels, quarts, and gills of    |
|good gin and good cheer. At the time,   |
|I devoted three days to the studious    |
|digesting of all this beer, beef, and   |
|bread, during which many profound       |
|thoughts were incidentally suggested    |
|to me, capable of a transcendental and  |
|Platonic application; and, furthermore, |
|I compiled supplementary tables of my   |
|own, touching the probable quantity     |
|of stock-fish, etc., consumed by        |
|every Low Dutch harpooneer in that      |
|ancient Greenland and Spitzbergen       |
|whale fishery. In the first place, the  |
|amount of butter, and Texel and Leyden  |
|cheese consumed, seems amazing. I       |
|impute it, though, to their naturally   |
|unctuous natures, being rendered still  |
|more unctuous by the nature of their    |
|vocation, and especially by their       |
|pursuing their game in those frigid     |
|Polar Seas, on the very coasts of that  |
|Esquimaux country where the convivial   |
|natives pledge each other in bumpers    |
|of train oil. The quantity of beer,     |
|too, is very large, 10,800 barrels.     |
|Now, as those polar fisheries could     |
|only be prosecuted in the short summer  |
|of that climate, so that the whole      |
|cruise of one of these Dutch whalemen,  |
|including the short voyage to and from  |
|the Spitzbergen sea, did not much exceed|
|three months, say, and reckoning 30 men |
|to each of their fleet of 180 sail, we  |
|have 5,400 Low Dutch seamen in all;     |
|therefore, I say, we have precisely     |
|two barrels of beer per man, for a      |
|twelve weeks' allowance, exclusive of   |
|his fair proportion of that 550 ankers  |
|of gin. Now, whether these gin and      |
|beer harpooneers, so fuddled as one     |
|might fancy them to have been, were     |
|the right sort of men to stand up in    |
|a boat's head, and take good aim at     |
|flying whales; this would seem somewhat |
|improbable. Yet they did aim at them,   |
|and hit them too. But this was very far |
|North, be it remembered, where beer     |
|agrees well with the constitution; upon |
|the Equator, in our southern fishery,   |
|beer would be apt to make the harpooneer|
|sleepy at the mast-head and boozy in    |
|his boat; and grievous loss might ensue |
|to Nantucket and New Bedford. But no    |
|more; enough has been said to show that |
|the old Dutch whalers of two or three   |
|centuries ago were high livers; and that|
|the English whalers have not neglected  |
|so excellent an example. For, say they, |
|when cruising in an empty ship, if      |
|you can get nothing better out of the   |
|world, get a good dinner out of it, at  |
|least. And this empties the decanter.   |
|Hitherto, in descriptively treating of  |
|the Sperm Whale, I have chiefly dwelt   |
|upon the marvels of his outer aspect;   |
|or separately and in detail upon some   |
|few interior structural features.       |
|But to a large and thorough sweeping    |
|comprehension of him, it behooves me    |
|now to unbutton him still further,      |
|and untagging the points of his hose,   |
|unbuckling his garters, and casting     |
|loose the hooks and the eyes of the     |
|joints of his innermost bones, set him  |
|before you in his ultimatum; that is to |
|say, in his unconditional skeleton. But |
|how now, Ishmael? How is it, that you, a|
|mere oarsman in the fishery, pretend to |
|know aught about the subterranean parts |
|of the whale? Did erudite Stubb, mounted|
|upon your capstan, deliver lectures on  |
|the anatomy of the Cetacea; and by help |
|of the windlass, hold up a specimen     |
|rib for exhibition? Explain thyself,    |
|Ishmael. Can you land a full-grown      |
|whale on your deck for examination, as  |
|a cook dishes a roast-pig? Surely not.  |
|A veritable witness have you hitherto   |
|been, Ishmael; but have a care how you  |
|seize the privilege of Jonah alone; the |
|privilege of discoursing upon the joists|
|and beams; the rafters, ridge-pole,     |
|sleepers, and under-pinnings, making    |
|up the frame-work of leviathan; and     |
|belike of the tallow-vats, dairy-rooms, |
|butteries, and cheeseries in his        |
|bowels. I confess, that since Jonah,    |
|few whalemen have penetrated very far   |
|beneath the skin of the adult whale;    |
|nevertheless, I have been blessed       |
|with an opportunity to dissect him in   |
|miniature. In a ship I belonged to, a   |
|small cub Sperm Whale was once bodily   |
|hoisted to the deck for his poke or     |
|bag, to make sheaths for the barbs of   |
|the harpoons, and for the heads of the  |
|lances. Think you I let that chance     |
|go, without using my boat-hatchet and   |
|jack-knife, and breaking the seal and   |
|reading all the contents of that young  |
|cub? And as for my exact knowledge of   |
|the bones of the leviathan in their     |
|gigantic, full grown development, for   |
|that rare knowledge I am indebted to    |
|my late royal friend Tranquo, king of   |
|Tranque, one of the Arsacides. For      |
|being at Tranque, years ago, when       |
|attached to the trading-ship Dey of     |
|Algiers, I was invited to spend part    |
|of the Arsacidean holidays with the     |
|lord of Tranque, at his retired palm    |
|villa at Pupella; a sea-side glen not   |
|very far distant from what our sailors  |
|called Bamboo-Town, his capital. Among  |
|many other fine qualities, my royal     |
|friend Tranquo, being gifted with a     |
|devout love for all matters of barbaric |
|vertu, had brought together in Pupella  |
|whatever rare things the more ingenious |
|of his people could invent; chiefly     |
|carved woods of wonderful devices,      |
|chiselled shells, inlaid spears,        |
|costly paddles, aromatic canoes; and    |
|all these distributed among whatever    |
|natural wonders, the wonder-freighted,  |
|tribute-rendering waves had cast upon   |
|his shores. Chief among these latter    |
|was a great Sperm Whale, which, after   |
|an unusually long raging gale, had      |
|been found dead and stranded, with his  |
|head against a cocoa-nut tree, whose    |
|plumage-like, tufted droopings seemed   |
|his verdant jet. When the vast body had |
|at last been stripped of its fathom-deep|
|enfoldings, and the bones become dust   |
|dry in the sun, then the skeleton was   |
|carefully transported up the Pupella    |
|glen, where a grand temple of lordly    |
|palms now sheltered it. The ribs were   |
|hung with trophies; the vertebrae were  |
|carved with Arsacidean annals, in       |
|strange hieroglyphics; in the skull,    |
|the priests kept up an unextinguished   |
|aromatic flame, so that the mystic head |
|again sent forth its vapoury spout;     |
|while, suspended from a bough, the      |
|terrific lower jaw vibrated over all    |
|the devotees, like the hair-hung sword  |
|that so affrighted Damocles. It was a   |
|wondrous sight. The wood was green as   |
|mosses of the Icy Glen; the trees stood |
|high and haughty, feeling their living  |
|sap; the industrious earth beneath was  |
|as a weaver's loom, with a gorgeous     |
|carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine   |
|tendrils formed the warp and woof,      |
|and the living flowers the figures.     |
|All the trees, with all their laden     |
|branches; all the shrubs, and ferns,    |
|and grasses; the message-carrying air;  |
|all these unceasingly were active.      |
|Through the lacings of the leaves,      |
|the great sun seemed a flying shuttle   |
|weaving the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy |
|weaver! unseen weaver!--pause!--one     |
|word!--whither flows the fabric? what   |
|palace may it deck? wherefore all these |
|ceaseless toilings? Speak, weaver!--stay|
|thy hand!--but one single word with     |
|thee! Nay--the shuttle flies--the       |
|figures float from forth the loom; the  |
|freshet-rushing carpet for ever slides  |
|away. The weaver-god, he weaves; and    |
|by that weaving is he deafened, that    |
|he hears no mortal voice; and by that   |
|humming, we, too, who look on the loom  |
|are deafened; and only when we escape   |
|it shall we hear the thousand voices    |
|that speak through it. For even so      |
|it is in all material factories. The    |
|spoken words that are inaudible among   |
|the flying spindles; those same words   |
|are plainly heard without the walls,    |
|bursting from the opened casements.     |
|Thereby have villainies been detected.  |
|Ah, mortal! then, be heedful; for so, in|
|all this din of the great world's loom, |
|thy subtlest thinkings may be overheard |
|afar. Now, amid the green, life-restless|
|loom of that Arsacidean wood, the       |
|great, white, worshipped skeleton lay   |
|lounging--a gigantic idler! Yet, as     |
|the ever-woven verdant warp and woof    |
|intermixed and hummed around him, the   |
|mighty idler seemed the cunning weaver; |
|himself all woven over with the vines;  |
|every month assuming greener, fresher   |
|verdure; but himself a skeleton. Life   |
|folded Death; Death trellised Life;     |
|the grim god wived with youthful Life,  |
|and begat him curly-headed glories.     |
|Now, when with royal Tranquo I visited  |
|this wondrous whale, and saw the skull  |
|an altar, and the artificial smoke      |
|ascending from where the real jet had   |
|issued, I marvelled that the king should|
|regard a chapel as an object of vertu.  |
|He laughed. But more I marvelled that   |
|the priests should swear that smoky jet |
|of his was genuine. To and fro I paced  |
|before this skeleton--brushed the vines |
|aside--broke through the ribs--and with |
|a ball of Arsacidean twine, wandered,   |
|eddied long amid its many winding,      |
|shaded colonnades and arbours. But soon |
|my line was out; and following it back, |
|I emerged from the opening where I      |
|entered. I saw no living thing within;  |
|naught was there but bones. Cutting     |
|me a green measuring-rod, I once more   |
|dived within the skeleton. From their   |
|arrow-slit in the skull, the priests    |
|perceived me taking the altitude of the |
|final rib, "How now!" they shouted;     |
|"Dar'st thou measure this our god!      |
|That's for us." "Aye, priests--well,    |
|how long do ye make him, then?" But     |
|hereupon a fierce contest rose among    |
|them, concerning feet and inches; they  |
|cracked each other's sconces with their |
|yard-sticks--the great skull echoed--and|
|seizing that lucky chance, I quickly    |
|concluded my own admeasurements. These  |
|admeasurements I now propose to set     |
|before you. But first, be it recorded,  |
|that, in this matter, I am not free to  |
|utter any fancied measurement I please. |
|Because there are skeleton authorities  |
|you can refer to, to test my accuracy.  |
|There is a Leviathanic Museum, they tell|
|me, in Hull, England, one of the whaling|
|ports of that country, where they have  |
|some fine specimens of fin-backs and    |
|other whales. Likewise, I have heard    |
|that in the museum of Manchester, in    |
|New Hampshire, they have what the       |
|proprietors call "the only perfect      |
|specimen of a Greenland or River Whale  |
|in the United States." Moreover, at a   |
|place in Yorkshire, England, Burton     |
|Constable by name, a certain Sir        |
|Clifford Constable has in his possession|
|the skeleton of a Sperm Whale, but      |
|of moderate size, by no means of the    |
|full-grown magnitude of my friend King  |
|Tranquo's. In both cases, the stranded  |
|whales to which these two skeletons     |
|belonged, were originally claimed by    |
|their proprietors upon similar grounds. |
|King Tranquo seizing his because he     |
|wanted it; and Sir Clifford, because    |
|he was lord of the seignories of those  |
|parts. Sir Clifford's whale has been    |
|articulated throughout; so that, like   |
|a great chest of drawers, you can       |
|open and shut him, in all his bony      |
|cavities--spread out his ribs like a    |
|gigantic fan--and swing all day upon his|
|lower jaw. Locks are to be put upon some|
|of his trap-doors and shutters; and a   |
|footman will show round future visitors |
|with a bunch of keys at his side. Sir   |
|Clifford thinks of charging twopence for|
|a peep at the whispering gallery in the |
|spinal column; threepence to hear the   |
|echo in the hollow of his cerebellum;   |
|and sixpence for the unrivalled view    |
|from his forehead. The skeleton         |
|dimensions I shall now proceed to set   |
|down are copied verbatim from my right  |
|arm, where I had them tattooed; as in my|
|wild wanderings at that period, there   |
|was no other secure way of preserving   |
|such valuable statistics. But as I was  |
|crowded for space, and wished the other |
|parts of my body to remain a blank page |
|for a poem I was then composing--at     |
|least, what untattooed parts might      |
|remain--I did not trouble myself with   |
|the odd inches; nor, indeed, should     |
|inches at all enter into a congenial    |
|admeasurement of the whale. In the      |
|first place, I wish to lay before you a |
|particular, plain statement, touching   |
|the living bulk of this leviathan, whose|
|skeleton we are briefly to exhibit.     |
|Such a statement may prove useful here. |
|According to a careful calculation I    |
|have made, and which I partly base upon |
|Captain Scoresby's estimate, of seventy |
|tons for the largest sized Greenland    |
|whale of sixty feet in length; according|
|to my careful calculation, I say, a     |
|Sperm Whale of the largest magnitude,   |
|between eighty-five and ninety feet in  |
|length, and something less than forty   |
|feet in its fullest circumference, such |
|a whale will weigh at least ninety tons;|
|so that, reckoning thirteen men to a    |
|ton, he would considerably outweigh the |
|combined population of a whole village  |
|of one thousand one hundred inhabitants.|
|Think you not then that brains, like    |
|yoked cattle, should be put to this     |
|leviathan, to make him at all budge     |
|to any landsman's imagination? Having   |
|already in various ways put before you  |
|his skull, spout-hole, jaw, teeth, tail,|
|forehead, fins, and divers other parts, |
|I shall now simply point out what is    |
|most interesting in the general bulk    |
|of his unobstructed bones. But as the   |
|colossal skull embraces so very large   |
|a proportion of the entire extent of    |
|the skeleton; as it is by far the most  |
|complicated part; and as nothing is     |
|to be repeated concerning it in this    |
|chapter, you must not fail to carry it  |
|in your mind, or under your arm, as we  |
|proceed, otherwise you will not gain a  |
|complete notion of the general structure|
|we are about to view. In length, the    |
|Sperm Whale's skeleton at Tranque       |
|measured seventy-two Feet; so that when |
|fully invested and extended in life, he |
|must have been ninety feet long; for    |
|in the whale, the skeleton loses about  |
|one fifth in length compared with the   |
|living body. Of this seventy-two feet,  |
|his skull and jaw comprised some twenty |
|feet, leaving some fifty feet of plain  |
|back-bone. Attached to this back-bone,  |
|for something less than a third of its  |
|length, was the mighty circular basket  |
|of ribs which once enclosed his vitals. |
|To me this vast ivory-ribbed chest, with|
|the long, unrelieved spine, extending   |
|far away from it in a straight line,    |
|not a little resembled the hull of a    |
|great ship new-laid upon the stocks,    |
|when only some twenty of her naked      |
|bow-ribs are inserted, and the keel is  |
|otherwise, for the time, but a long,    |
|disconnected timber. The ribs were ten  |
|on a side. The first, to begin from the |
|neck, was nearly six feet long; the     |
|second, third, and fourth were each     |
|successively longer, till you came to   |
|the climax of the fifth, or one of the  |
|middle ribs, which measured eight feet  |
|and some inches. From that part, the    |
|remaining ribs diminished, till the     |
|tenth and last only spanned five feet   |
|and some inches. In general thickness,  |
|they all bore a seemly correspondence to|
|their length. The middle ribs were the  |
|most arched. In some of the Arsacides   |
|they are used for beams whereon to lay  |
|footpath bridges over small streams. In |
|considering these ribs, I could not but |
|be struck anew with the circumstance,   |
|so variously repeated in this book,     |
|that the skeleton of the whale is by no |
|means the mould of his invested form.   |
|The largest of the Tranque ribs, one of |
|the middle ones, occupied that part of  |
|the fish which, in life, is greatest in |
|depth. Now, the greatest depth of the   |
|invested body of this particular whale  |
|must have been at least sixteen feet;   |
|whereas, the corresponding rib measured |
|but little more than eight feet. So     |
|that this rib only conveyed half of the |
|true notion of the living magnitude of  |
|that part. Besides, for some way, where |
|I now saw but a naked spine, all that   |
|had been once wrapped round with tons   |
|of added bulk in flesh, muscle, blood,  |
|and bowels. Still more, for the ample   |
|fins, I here saw but a few disordered   |
|joints; and in place of the weighty     |
|and majestic, but boneless flukes, an   |
|utter blank! How vain and foolish, then,|
|thought I, for timid untravelled man to |
|try to comprehend aright this wondrous  |
|whale, by merely poring over his dead   |
|attenuated skeleton, stretched in this  |
|peaceful wood. No. Only in the heart    |
|of quickest perils; only when within    |
|the eddyings of his angry flukes; only  |
|on the profound unbounded sea, can      |
|the fully invested whale be truly and   |
|livingly found out. But the spine. For  |
|that, the best way we can consider it   |
|is, with a crane, to pile its bones     |
|high up on end. No speedy enterprise.   |
|But now it's done, it looks much like   |
|Pompey's Pillar. There are forty and odd|
|vertebrae in all, which in the skeleton |
|are not locked together. They mostly    |
|lie like the great knobbed blocks on a  |
|Gothic spire, forming solid courses of  |
|heavy masonry. The largest, a middle    |
|one, is in width something less than    |
|three feet, and in depth more than four.|
|The smallest, where the spine tapers    |
|away into the tail, is only two inches  |
|in width, and looks something like a    |
|white billiard-ball. I was told that    |
|there were still smaller ones, but they |
|had been lost by some little cannibal   |
|urchins, the priest's children, who had |
|stolen them to play marbles with. Thus  |
|we see how that the spine of even the   |
|hugest of living things tapers off at   |
|last into simple child's play. From his |
|mighty bulk the whale affords a most    |
|congenial theme whereon to enlarge,     |
|amplify, and generally expatiate. Would |
|you, you could not compress him. By good|
|rights he should only be treated of in  |
|imperial folio. Not to tell over again  |
|his furlongs from spiracle to tail, and |
|the yards he measures about the waist;  |
|only think of the gigantic involutions  |
|of his intestines, where they lie in him|
|like great cables and hawsers coiled    |
|away in the subterranean orlop-deck     |
|of a line-of-battle-ship. Since I       |
|have undertaken to manhandle this       |
|Leviathan, it behooves me to approve    |
|myself omnisciently exhaustive in the   |
|enterprise; not overlooking the minutest|
|seminal germs of his blood, and spinning|
|him out to the uttermost coil of his    |
|bowels. Having already described him    |
|in most of his present habitatory and   |
|anatomical peculiarities, it now remains|
|to magnify him in an archaeological,    |
|fossiliferous, and antediluvian point   |
|of view. Applied to any other creature  |
|than the Leviathan--to an ant or a      |
|flea--such portly terms might justly be |
|deemed unwarrantably grandiloquent. But |
|when Leviathan is the text, the case is |
|altered. Fain am I to stagger to this   |
|emprise under the weightiest words of   |
|the dictionary. And here be it said,    |
|that whenever it has been convenient    |
|to consult one in the course of these   |
|dissertations, I have invariably used   |
|a huge quarto edition of Johnson,       |
|expressly purchased for that purpose;   |
|because that famous lexicographer's     |
|uncommon personal bulk more fitted him  |
|to compile a lexicon to be used by a    |
|whale author like me. One often hears   |
|of writers that rise and swell with     |
|their subject, though it may seem but   |
|an ordinary one. How, then, with me,    |
|writing of this Leviathan? Unconsciously|
|my chirography expands into placard     |
|capitals. Give me a condor's quill!     |
|Give me Vesuvius' crater for an         |
|inkstand! Friends, hold my arms! For    |
|in the mere act of penning my thoughts  |
|of this Leviathan, they weary me, and   |
|make me faint with their outreaching    |
|comprehensiveness of sweep, as if       |
|to include the whole circle of the      |
|sciences, and all the generations of    |
|whales, and men, and mastodons, past,   |
|present, and to come, with all the      |
|revolving panoramas of empire on earth, |
|and throughout the whole universe, not  |
|excluding its suburbs. Such, and so     |
|magnifying, is the virtue of a large and|
|liberal theme! We expand to its bulk. To|
|produce a mighty book, you must choose  |
|a mighty theme. No great and enduring   |
|volume can ever be written on the flea, |
|though many there be who have tried     |
|it. Ere entering upon the subject of    |
|Fossil Whales, I present my credentials |
|as a geologist, by stating that in      |
|my miscellaneous time I have been a     |
|stone-mason, and also a great digger of |
|ditches, canals and wells, wine-vaults, |
|cellars, and cisterns of all sorts.     |
|Likewise, by way of preliminary, I      |
|desire to remind the reader, that while |
|in the earlier geological strata there  |
|are found the fossils of monsters       |
|now almost completely extinct; the      |
|subsequent relics discovered in what are|
|called the Tertiary formations seem the |
|connecting, or at any rate intercepted  |
|links, between the antichronical        |
|creatures, and those whose remote       |
|posterity are said to have entered the  |
|Ark; all the Fossil Whales hitherto     |
|discovered belong to the Tertiary       |
|period, which is the last preceding the |
|superficial formations. And though none |
|of them precisely answer to any known   |
|species of the present time, they are   |
|yet sufficiently akin to them in general|
|respects, to justify their taking rank  |
|as Cetacean fossils. Detached broken    |
|fossils of pre-adamite whales, fragments|
|of their bones and skeletons, have      |
|within thirty years past, at various    |
|intervals, been found at the base of    |
|the Alps, in Lombardy, in France, in    |
|England, in Scotland, and in the States |
|of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. |
|Among the more curious of such remains  |
|is part of a skull, which in the year   |
|1779 was disinterred in the Rue Dauphine|
|in Paris, a short street opening        |
|almost directly upon the palace of the  |
|Tuileries; and bones disinterred in     |
|excavating the great docks of Antwerp,  |
|in Napoleon's time. Cuvier pronounced   |
|these fragments to have belonged to     |
|some utterly unknown Leviathanic        |
|species. But by far the most wonderful  |
|of all Cetacean relics was the almost   |
|complete vast skeleton of an extinct    |
|monster, found in the year 1842, on the |
|plantation of Judge Creagh, in Alabama. |
|The awe-stricken credulous slaves in the|
|vicinity took it for the bones of one of|
|the fallen angels. The Alabama doctors  |
|declared it a huge reptile, and bestowed|
|upon it the name of Basilosaurus. But   |
|some specimen bones of it being taken   |
|across the sea to Owen, the English     |
|Anatomist, it turned out that this      |
|alleged reptile was a whale, though     |
|of a departed species. A significant    |
|illustration of the fact, again and     |
|again repeated in this book, that the   |
|skeleton of the whale furnishes but     |
|little clue to the shape of his fully   |
|invested body. So Owen rechristened the |
|monster Zeuglodon; and in his paper read|
|before the London Geological Society,   |
|pronounced it, in substance, one of the |
|most extraordinary creatures which the  |
|mutations of the globe have blotted out |
|of existence. When I stand among these  |
|mighty Leviathan skeletons, skulls,     |
|tusks, jaws, ribs, and vertebrae, all   |
|characterized by partial resemblances   |
|to the existing breeds of sea-monsters; |
|but at the same time bearing on the     |
|other hand similar affinities to the    |
|annihilated antichronical Leviathans,   |
|their incalculable seniors; I am, by    |
|a flood, borne back to that wondrous    |
|period, ere time itself can be said to  |
|have begun; for time began with man.    |
|Here Saturn's grey chaos rolls over me, |
|and I obtain dim, shuddering glimpses   |
|into those Polar eternities; when       |
|wedged bastions of ice pressed hard     |
|upon what are now the Tropics; and in   |
|all the 25,000 miles of this world's    |
|circumference, not an inhabitable hand's|
|breadth of land was visible. Then the   |
|whole world was the whale's; and, king  |
|of creation, he left his wake along     |
|the present lines of the Andes and the  |
|Himmalehs. Who can show a pedigree      |
|like Leviathan? Ahab's harpoon had      |
|shed older blood than the Pharaoh's.    |
|Methuselah seems a school-boy. I look   |
|round to shake hands with Shem. I am    |
|horror-struck at this antemosaic,       |
|unsourced existence of the unspeakable  |
|terrors of the whale, which, having     |
|been before all time, must needs exist  |
|after all humane ages are over. But     |
|not alone has this Leviathan left his   |
|pre-adamite traces in the stereotype    |
|plates of nature, and in limestone and  |
|marl bequeathed his ancient bust; but   |
|upon Egyptian tablets, whose antiquity  |
|seems to claim for them an almost       |
|fossiliferous character, we find the    |
|unmistakable print of his fin. In       |
|an apartment of the great temple of     |
|Denderah, some fifty years ago, there   |
|was discovered upon the granite ceiling |
|a sculptured and painted planisphere,   |
|abounding in centaurs, griffins, and    |
|dolphins, similar to the grotesque      |
|figures on the celestial globe of       |
|the moderns. Gliding among them, old    |
|Leviathan swam as of yore; was there    |
|swimming in that planisphere, centuries |
|before Solomon was cradled. Nor must    |
|there be omitted another strange        |
|attestation of the antiquity of the     |
|whale, in his own osseous post-diluvian |
|reality, as set down by the venerable   |
|John Leo, the old Barbary traveller.    |
|"Not far from the Sea-side, they have a |
|Temple, the Rafters and Beams of which  |
|are made of Whale-Bones; for Whales of  |
|a monstrous size are oftentimes cast up |
|dead upon that shore. The Common People |
|imagine, that by a secret Power bestowed|
|by God upon the temple, no Whale can    |
|pass it without immediate death. But    |
|the truth of the Matter is, that on     |
|either side of the Temple, there are    |
|Rocks that shoot two Miles into the     |
|Sea, and wound the Whales when they     |
|light upon 'em. They keep a Whale's Rib |
|of an incredible length for a Miracle,  |
|which lying upon the Ground with its    |
|convex part uppermost, makes an Arch,   |
|the Head of which cannot be reached by  |
|a Man upon a Camel's Back. This Rib     |
|(says John Leo) is said to have layn    |
|there a hundred Years before I saw it.  |
|Their Historians affirm, that a Prophet |
|who prophesy'd of Mahomet, came from    |
|this Temple, and some do not stand to   |
|assert, that the Prophet Jonas was cast |
|forth by the Whale at the Base of the   |
|Temple." In this Afric Temple of the    |
|Whale I leave you, reader, and if you be|
|a Nantucketer, and a whaleman, you will |
|silently worship there. Inasmuch, then, |
|as this Leviathan comes floundering down|
|upon us from the head-waters of the     |
|Eternities, it may be fitly inquired,   |
|whether, in the long course of his      |
|generations, he has not degenerated     |
|from the original bulk of his sires.    |
|But upon investigation we find, that    |
|not only are the whales of the present  |
|day superior in magnitude to those      |
|whose fossil remains are found in the   |
|Tertiary system (embracing a distinct   |
|geological period prior to man), but    |
|of the whales found in that Tertiary    |
|system, those belonging to its latter   |
|formations exceed in size those of its  |
|earlier ones. Of all the pre-adamite    |
|whales yet exhumed, by far the largest  |
|is the Alabama one mentioned in the     |
|last chapter, and that was less than    |
|seventy feet in length in the skeleton. |
|Whereas, we have already seen, that the |
|tape-measure gives seventy-two feet for |
|the skeleton of a large sized modern    |
|whale. And I have heard, on whalemen's  |
|authority, that Sperm Whales have been  |
|captured near a hundred feet long at the|
|time of capture. But may it not be, that|
|while the whales of the present hour    |
|are an advance in magnitude upon those  |
|of all previous geological periods; may |
|it not be, that since Adam's time they  |
|have degenerated? Assuredly, we must    |
|conclude so, if we are to credit the    |
|accounts of such gentlemen as Pliny, and|
|the ancient naturalists generally. For  |
|Pliny tells us of Whales that embraced  |
|acres of living bulk, and Aldrovandus   |
|of others which measured eight hundred  |
|feet in length--Rope Walks and Thames   |
|Tunnels of Whales! And even in the      |
|days of Banks and Solander, Cooke's     |
|naturalists, we find a Danish member of |
|the Academy of Sciences setting down    |
|certain Iceland Whales (reydan-siskur,  |
|or Wrinkled Bellies) at one hundred and |
|twenty yards; that is, three hundred and|
|sixty feet. And Lacepede, the French    |
|naturalist, in his elaborate history of |
|whales, in the very beginning of his    |
|work (page 3), sets down the Right Whale|
|at one hundred metres, three hundred and|
|twenty-eight feet. And this work was    |
|published so late as A.D. 1825. But will|
|any whaleman believe these stories? No. |
|The whale of to-day is as big as his    |
|ancestors in Pliny's time. And if ever I|
|go where Pliny is, I, a whaleman (more  |
|than he was), will make bold to tell him|
|so. Because I cannot understand how it  |
|is, that while the Egyptian mummies that|
|were buried thousands of years before   |
|even Pliny was born, do not measure     |
|so much in their coffins as a modern    |
|Kentuckian in his socks; and while the  |
|cattle and other animals sculptured on  |
|the oldest Egyptian and Nineveh tablets,|
|by the relative proportions in which    |
|they are drawn, just as plainly prove   |
|that the high-bred, stall-fed, prize    |
|cattle of Smithfield, not only equal,   |
|but far exceed in magnitude the fattest |
|of Pharaoh's fat kine; in the face of   |
|all this, I will not admit that of all  |
|animals the whale alone should have     |
|degenerated. But still another inquiry  |
|remains; one often agitated by the more |
|recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing   |
|to the almost omniscient look-outs at   |
|the mast-heads of the whaleships, now   |
|penetrating even through Behring's      |
|straits, and into the remotest secret   |
|drawers and lockers of the world;       |
|and the thousand harpoons and lances    |
|darted along all continental coasts;    |
|the moot point is, whether Leviathan    |
|can long endure so wide a chase, and so |
|remorseless a havoc; whether he must    |
|not at last be exterminated from the    |
|waters, and the last whale, like the    |
|last man, smoke his last pipe, and then |
|himself evaporate in the final puff.    |
|Comparing the humped herds of whales    |
|with the humped herds of buffalo,       |
|which, not forty years ago, overspread  |
|by tens of thousands the prairies of    |
|Illinois and Missouri, and shook their  |
|iron manes and scowled with their       |
|thunder-clotted brows upon the sites    |
|of populous river-capitals, where now   |
|the polite broker sells you land at a   |
|dollar an inch; in such a comparison    |
|an irresistible argument would seem     |
|furnished, to show that the hunted whale|
|cannot now escape speedy extinction.    |
|But you must look at this matter in     |
|every light. Though so short a period   |
|ago--not a good lifetime--the census    |
|of the buffalo in Illinois exceeded     |
|the census of men now in London, and    |
|though at the present day not one horn  |
|or hoof of them remains in all that     |
|region; and though the cause of this    |
|wondrous extermination was the spear    |
|of man; yet the far different nature    |
|of the whale-hunt peremptorily forbids  |
|so inglorious an end to the Leviathan.  |
|Forty men in one ship hunting the Sperm |
|Whales for forty-eight months think     |
|they have done extremely well, and      |
|thank God, if at last they carry home   |
|the oil of forty fish. Whereas, in the  |
|days of the old Canadian and Indian     |
|hunters and trappers of the West, when  |
|the far west (in whose sunset suns      |
|still rise) was a wilderness and a      |
|virgin, the same number of moccasined   |
|men, for the same number of months,     |
|mounted on horse instead of sailing     |
|in ships, would have slain not forty,   |
|but forty thousand and more buffaloes;  |
|a fact that, if need were, could be     |
|statistically stated. Nor, considered   |
|aright, does it seem any argument in    |
|favour of the gradual extinction of the |
|Sperm Whale, for example, that in former|
|years (the latter part of the last      |
|century, say) these Leviathans, in small|
|pods, were encountered much oftener than|
|at present, and, in consequence, the    |
|voyages were not so prolonged, and were |
|also much more remunerative. Because,   |
|as has been elsewhere noticed, those    |
|whales, influenced by some views to     |
|safety, now swim the seas in immense    |
|caravans, so that to a large degree     |
|the scattered solitaries, yokes, and    |
|pods, and schools of other days are     |
|now aggregated into vast but widely     |
|separated, unfrequent armies. That is   |
|all. And equally fallacious seems the   |
|conceit, that because the so-called     |
|whale-bone whales no longer haunt many  |
|grounds in former years abounding       |
|with them, hence that species also is   |
|declining. For they are only being      |
|driven from promontory to cape; and     |
|if one coast is no longer enlivened     |
|with their jets, then, be sure, some    |
|other and remoter strand has been very  |
|recently startled by the unfamiliar     |
|spectacle. Furthermore: concerning      |
|these last mentioned Leviathans, they   |
|have two firm fortresses, which, in all |
|human probability, will for ever remain |
|impregnable. And as upon the invasion   |
|of their valleys, the frosty Swiss have |
|retreated to their mountains; so, hunted|
|from the savannas and glades of the     |
|middle seas, the whale-bone whales can  |
|at last resort to their Polar citadels, |
|and diving under the ultimate glassy    |
|barriers and walls there, come up among |
|icy fields and floes; and in a charmed  |
|circle of everlasting December, bid     |
|defiance to all pursuit from man. But   |
|as perhaps fifty of these whale-bone    |
|whales are harpooned for one cachalot,  |
|some philosophers of the forecastle have|
|concluded that this positive havoc has  |
|already very seriously diminished their |
|battalions. But though for some time    |
|past a number of these whales, not less |
|than 13,000, have been annually slain   |
|on the nor'-west coast by the Americans |
|alone; yet there are considerations     |
|which render even this circumstance of  |
|little or no account as an opposing     |
|argument in this matter. Natural as it  |
|is to be somewhat incredulous concerning|
|the populousness of the more enormous   |
|creatures of the globe, yet what shall  |
|we say to Harto, the historian of Goa,  |
|when he tells us that at one hunting the|
|King of Siam took 4,000 elephants; that |
|in those regions elephants are numerous |
|as droves of cattle in the temperate    |
|climes. And there seems no reason to    |
|doubt that if these elephants, which    |
|have now been hunted for thousands      |
|of years, by Semiramis, by Porus, by    |
|Hannibal, and by all the successive     |
|monarchs of the East--if they still     |
|survive there in great numbers, much    |
|more may the great whale outlast all    |
|hunting, since he has a pasture to      |
|expatiate in, which is precisely twice  |
|as large as all Asia, both Americas,    |
|Europe and Africa, New Holland, and     |
|all the Isles of the sea combined.      |
|Moreover: we are to consider, that      |
|from the presumed great longevity of    |
|whales, their probably attaining the    |
|age of a century and more, therefore    |
|at any one period of time, several      |
|distinct adult generations must be      |
|contemporary. And what that is, we may  |
|soon gain some idea of, by imagining    |
|all the grave-yards, cemeteries, and    |
|family vaults of creation yielding      |
|up the live bodies of all the men,      |
|women, and children who were alive      |
|seventy-five years ago; and adding this |
|countless host to the present human     |
|population of the globe. Wherefore,     |
|for all these things, we account the    |
|whale immortal in his species, however  |
|perishable in his individuality. He     |
|swam the seas before the continents     |
|broke water; he once swam over the      |
|site of the Tuileries, and Windsor      |
|Castle, and the Kremlin. In Noah's      |
|flood he despised Noah's Ark; and if    |
|ever the world is to be again flooded,  |
|like the Netherlands, to kill off its   |
|rats, then the eternal whale will still |
|survive, and rearing upon the topmost   |
|crest of the equatorial flood, spout    |
|his frothed defiance to the skies. The  |
|precipitating manner in which Captain   |
|Ahab had quitted the Samuel Enderby of  |
|London, had not been unattended with    |
|some small violence to his own person.  |
|He had lighted with such energy upon    |
|a thwart of his boat that his ivory     |
|leg had received a half-splintering     |
|shock. And when after gaining his own   |
|deck, and his own pivot-hole there, he  |
|so vehemently wheeled round with an     |
|urgent command to the steersman (it     |
|was, as ever, something about his not   |
|steering inflexibly enough); then, the  |
|already shaken ivory received such an   |
|additional twist and wrench, that though|
|it still remained entire, and to all    |
|appearances lusty, yet Ahab did not deem|
|it entirely trustworthy. And, indeed,   |
|it seemed small matter for wonder, that |
|for all his pervading, mad recklessness,|
|Ahab did at times give careful heed to  |
|the condition of that dead bone upon    |
|which he partly stood. For it had not   |
|been very long prior to the Pequod's    |
|sailing from Nantucket, that he had     |
|been found one night lying prone upon   |
|the ground, and insensible; by some     |
|unknown, and seemingly inexplicable,    |
|unimaginable casualty, his ivory limb   |
|having been so violently displaced,     |
|that it had stake-wise smitten, and     |
|all but pierced his groin; nor was it   |
|without extreme difficulty that the     |
|agonizing wound was entirely cured.     |
|Nor, at the time, had it failed to      |
|enter his monomaniac mind, that all the |
|anguish of that then present suffering  |
|was but the direct issue of a former    |
|woe; and he too plainly seemed to see,  |
|that as the most poisonous reptile      |
|of the marsh perpetuates his kind as    |
|inevitably as the sweetest songster     |
|of the grove; so, equally with every    |
|felicity, all miserable events do       |
|naturally beget their like. Yea, more   |
|than equally, thought Ahab; since both  |
|the ancestry and posterity of Grief go  |
|further than the ancestry and posterity |
|of Joy. For, not to hint of this:       |
|that it is an inference from certain    |
|canonic teachings, that while some      |
|natural enjoyments here shall have no   |
|children born to them for the other     |
|world, but, on the contrary, shall      |
|be followed by the joy-childlessness    |
|of all hell's despair; whereas, some    |
|guilty mortal miseries shall still      |
|fertilely beget to themselves an        |
|eternally progressive progeny of        |
|griefs beyond the grave; not at all     |
|to hint of this, there still seems an   |
|inequality in the deeper analysis of the|
|thing. For, thought Ahab, while even    |
|the highest earthly felicities ever     |
|have a certain unsignifying pettiness   |
|lurking in them, but, at bottom, all    |
|heartwoes, a mystic significance, and,  |
|in some men, an archangelic grandeur;   |
|so do their diligent tracings-out not   |
|belie the obvious deduction. To trail   |
|the genealogies of these high mortal    |
|miseries, carries us at last among      |
|the sourceless primogenitures of the    |
|gods; so that, in the face of all       |
|the glad, hay-making suns, and soft     |
|cymballing, round harvest-moons, we     |
|must needs give in to this: that the    |
|gods themselves are not for ever glad.  |
|The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the |
|brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow |
|in the signers. Unwittingly here a      |
|secret has been divulged, which perhaps |
|might more properly, in set way, have   |
|been disclosed before. With many other  |
|particulars concerning Ahab, always had |
|it remained a mystery to some, why it   |
|was, that for a certain period, both    |
|before and after the sailing of the     |
|Pequod, he had hidden himself away with |
|such Grand-Lama-like exclusiveness;     |
|and, for that one interval, sought      |
|speechless refuge, as it were, among    |
|the marble senate of the dead. Captain  |
|Peleg's bruited reason for this thing   |
|appeared by no means adequate; though,  |
|indeed, as touching all Ahab's deeper   |
|part, every revelation partook more of  |
|significant darkness than of explanatory|
|light. But, in the end, it all came     |
|out; this one matter did, at least.     |
|That direful mishap was at the bottom   |
|of his temporary recluseness. And not   |
|only this, but to that ever-contracting,|
|dropping circle ashore, who, for any    |
|reason, possessed the privilege of      |
|a less banned approach to him; to       |
|that timid circle the above hinted      |
|casualty--remaining, as it did, moodily |
|unaccounted for by Ahab--invested itself|
|with terrors, not entirely underived    |
|from the land of spirits and of wails.  |
|So that, through their zeal for him,    |
|they had all conspired, so far as in    |
|them lay, to muffle up the knowledge    |
|of this thing from others; and hence    |
|it was, that not till a considerable    |
|interval had elapsed, did it transpire  |
|upon the Pequod's decks. But be all this|
|as it may; let the unseen, ambiguous    |
|synod in the air, or the vindictive     |
|princes and potentates of fire, have    |
|to do or not with earthly Ahab, yet,    |
|in this present matter of his leg, he   |
|took plain practical procedures;--he    |
|called the carpenter. And when that     |
|functionary appeared before him, he bade|
|him without delay set about making a new|
|leg, and directed the mates to see him  |
|supplied with all the studs and joists  |
|of jaw-ivory (Sperm Whale) which had    |
|thus far been accumulated on the voyage,|
|in order that a careful selection of    |
|the stoutest, clearest-grained stuff    |
|might be secured. This done, the        |
|carpenter received orders to have the   |
|leg completed that night; and to provide|
|all the fittings for it, independent    |
|of those pertaining to the distrusted   |
|one in use. Moreover, the ship's forge  |
|was ordered to be hoisted out of its    |
|temporary idleness in the hold; and, to |
|accelerate the affair, the blacksmith   |
|was commanded to proceed at once to the |
|forging of whatever iron contrivances   |
|might be needed. Seat thyself           |
|sultanically among the moons of Saturn, |
|and take high abstracted man alone;     |
|and he seems a wonder, a grandeur,      |
|and a woe. But from the same point,     |
|take mankind in mass, and for the most  |
|part, they seem a mob of unnecessary    |
|duplicates, both contemporary and       |
|hereditary. But most humble though he   |
|was, and far from furnishing an example |
|of the high, humane abstraction; the    |
|Pequod's carpenter was no duplicate;    |
|hence, he now comes in person on        |
|this stage. Like all sea-going ship     |
|carpenters, and more especially those   |
|belonging to whaling vessels, he was,   |
|to a certain off-handed, practical      |
|extent, alike experienced in numerous   |
|trades and callings collateral to his   |
|own; the carpenter's pursuit being      |
|the ancient and outbranching trunk of   |
|all those numerous handicrafts which    |
|more or less have to do with wood as    |
|an auxiliary material. But, besides     |
|the application to him of the generic   |
|remark above, this carpenter of the     |
|Pequod was singularly efficient in those|
|thousand nameless mechanical emergencies|
|continually recurring in a large ship,  |
|upon a three or four years' voyage,     |
|in uncivilized and far-distant seas.    |
|For not to speak of his readiness in    |
|ordinary duties:--repairing stove boats,|
|sprung spars, reforming the shape of    |
|clumsy-bladed oars, inserting bull's    |
|eyes in the deck, or new tree-nails in  |
|the side planks, and other miscellaneous|
|matters more directly pertaining to     |
|his special business; he was moreover   |
|unhesitatingly expert in all manner of  |
|conflicting aptitudes, both useful and  |
|capricious. The one grand stage where   |
|he enacted all his various parts so     |
|manifold, was his vice-bench; a long    |
|rude ponderous table furnished with     |
|several vices, of different sizes, and  |
|both of iron and of wood. At all times  |
|except when whales were alongside, this |
|bench was securely lashed athwartships  |
|against the rear of the Try-works. A    |
|belaying pin is found too large to be   |
|easily inserted into its hole: the      |
|carpenter claps it into one of his      |
|ever-ready vices, and straightway files |
|it smaller. A lost land-bird of strange |
|plumage strays on board, and is made    |
|a captive: out of clean shaved rods     |
|of right-whale bone, and cross-beams    |
|of sperm whale ivory, the carpenter     |
|makes a pagoda-looking cage for it.     |
|An oarsman sprains his wrist: the       |
|carpenter concocts a soothing lotion.   |
|Stubb longed for vermillion stars to    |
|be painted upon the blade of his every  |
|oar; screwing each oar in his big vice  |
|of wood, the carpenter symmetrically    |
|supplies the constellation. A sailor    |
|takes a fancy to wear shark-bone        |
|ear-rings: the carpenter drills his     |
|ears. Another has the toothache: the    |
|carpenter out pincers, and clapping one |
|hand upon his bench bids him be seated  |
|there; but the poor fellow unmanageably |
|winces under the unconcluded operation; |
|whirling round the handle of his wooden |
|vice, the carpenter signs him to clap   |
|his jaw in that, if he would have him   |
|draw the tooth. Thus, this carpenter    |
|was prepared at all points, and alike   |
|indifferent and without respect in all. |
|Teeth he accounted bits of ivory; heads |
|he deemed but top-blocks; men themselves|
|he lightly held for capstans. But while |
|now upon so wide a field thus variously |
|accomplished and with such liveliness of|
|expertness in him, too; all this would  |
|seem to argue some uncommon vivacity of |
|intelligence. But not precisely so. For |
|nothing was this man more remarkable,   |
|than for a certain impersonal stolidity |
|as it were; impersonal, I say; for it   |
|so shaded off into the surrounding      |
|infinite of things, that it seemed one  |
|with the general stolidity discernible  |
|in the whole visible world; which       |
|while pauselessly active in uncounted   |
|modes, still eternally holds its        |
|peace, and ignores you, though you dig  |
|foundations for cathedrals. Yet was     |
|this half-horrible stolidity in him,    |
|involving, too, as it appeared, an      |
|all-ramifying heartlessness;--yet was   |
|it oddly dashed at times, with an old,  |
|crutch-like, antediluvian, wheezing     |
|humorousness, not unstreaked now and    |
|then with a certain grizzled wittiness; |
|such as might have served to pass the   |
|time during the midnight watch on the   |
|bearded forecastle of Noah's ark. Was   |
|it that this old carpenter had been a   |
|life-long wanderer, whose much rolling, |
|to and fro, not only had gathered no    |
|moss; but what is more, had rubbed off  |
|whatever small outward clingings might  |
|have originally pertained to him? He    |
|was a stript abstract; an unfractioned  |
|integral; uncompromised as a new-born   |
|babe; living without premeditated       |
|reference to this world or the next.    |
|You might almost say, that this strange |
|uncompromisedness in him involved a sort|
|of unintelligence; for in his numerous  |
|trades, he did not seem to work so much |
|by reason or by instinct, or simply     |
|because he had been tutored to it, or by|
|any intermixture of all these, even or  |
|uneven; but merely by a kind of deaf and|
|dumb, spontaneous literal process. He   |
|was a pure manipulator; his brain, if he|
|had ever had one, must have early oozed |
|along into the muscles of his fingers.  |
|He was like one of those unreasoning but|
|still highly useful, MULTUM IN PARVO,   |
|Sheffield contrivances, assuming the    |
|exterior--though a little swelled--of a |
|common pocket knife; but containing, not|
|only blades of various sizes, but also  |
|screw-drivers, cork-screws, tweezers,   |
|awls, pens, rulers, nail-filers,        |
|countersinkers. So, if his superiors    |
|wanted to use the carpenter for a       |
|screw-driver, all they had to do was to |
|open that part of him, and the screw was|
|fast: or if for tweezers, take him up   |
|by the legs, and there they were. Yet,  |
|as previously hinted, this omnitooled,  |
|open-and-shut carpenter, was, after all,|
|no mere machine of an automaton. If he  |
|did not have a common soul in him, he   |
|had a subtle something that somehow     |
|anomalously did its duty. What that     |
|was, whether essence of quicksilver, or |
|a few drops of hartshorn, there is no   |
|telling. But there it was; and there    |
|it had abided for now some sixty years  |
|or more. And this it was, this same     |
|unaccountable, cunning life-principle   |
|in him; this it was, that kept him a    |
|great part of the time soliloquizing;   |
|but only like an unreasoning wheel,     |
|which also hummingly soliloquizes; or   |
|rather, his body was a sentry-box and   |
|this soliloquizer on guard there, and   |
|talking all the time to keep himself    |
|awake. Drat the file, and drat the bone!|
|That is hard which should be soft, and  |
|that is soft which should be hard. So   |
|we go, who file old jaws and shinbones. |
|Let's try another. Aye, now, this works |
|better (SNEEZES). Halloa, this bone dust|
|is (SNEEZES)--why it's (SNEEZES)--yes   |
|it's (SNEEZES)--bless my soul, it won't |
|let me speak! This is what an old fellow|
|gets now for working in dead lumber.    |
|Saw a live tree, and you don't get this |
|dust; amputate a live bone, and you     |
|don't get it (SNEEZES). Come, come,     |
|you old Smut, there, bear a hand, and   |
|let's have that ferule and buckle-screw;|
|I'll be ready for them presently. Lucky |
|now (SNEEZES) there's no knee-joint to  |
|make; that might puzzle a little; but a |
|mere shinbone--why it's easy as making  |
|hop-poles; only I should like to put a  |
|good finish on. Time, time; if I but    |
|only had the time, I could turn him out |
|as neat a leg now as ever (SNEEZES)     |
|scraped to a lady in a parlor. Those    |
|buckskin legs and calves of legs I've   |
|seen in shop windows wouldn't compare   |
|at all. They soak water, they do; and   |
|of course get rheumatic, and have to    |
|be doctored (SNEEZES) with washes and   |
|lotions, just like live legs. There;    |
|before I saw it off, now, I must call   |
|his old Mogulship, and see whether the  |
|length will be all right; too short,    |
|if anything, I guess. Ha! that's the    |
|heel; we are in luck; here he comes,    |
|or it's somebody else, that's certain.  |
|Well, manmaker! Just in time, sir.      |
|If the captain pleases, I will now      |
|mark the length. Let me measure, sir.   |
|Measured for a leg! good. Well, it's    |
|not the first time. About it! There;    |
|keep thy finger on it. This is a cogent |
|vice thou hast here, carpenter; let me  |
|feel its grip once. So, so; it does     |
|pinch some. Oh, sir, it will break      |
|bones--beware, beware! No fear; I like  |
|a good grip; I like to feel something   |
|in this slippery world that can hold,   |
|man. What's Prometheus about there?--the|
|blacksmith, I mean--what's he about?    |
|He must be forging the buckle-screw,    |
|sir, now. Right. It's a partnership;    |
|he supplies the muscle part. He makes   |
|a fierce red flame there! Aye, sir;     |
|he must have the white heat for this    |
|kind of fine work. Um-m. So he must. I  |
|do deem it now a most meaning thing,    |
|that that old Greek, Prometheus, who    |
|made men, they say, should have been a  |
|blacksmith, and animated them with fire;|
|for what's made in fire must properly   |
|belong to fire; and so hell's probable. |
|How the soot flies! This must be the    |
|remainder the Greek made the Africans   |
|of. Carpenter, when he's through with   |
|that buckle, tell him to forge a pair   |
|of steel shoulder-blades; there's a     |
|pedlar aboard with a crushing pack. Sir?|
|Hold; while Prometheus is about it, I'll|
|order a complete man after a desirable  |
|pattern. Imprimis, fifty feet high in   |
|his socks; then, chest modelled after   |
|the Thames Tunnel; then, legs with roots|
|to 'em, to stay in one place; then, arms|
|three feet through the wrist; no heart  |
|at all, brass forehead, and about a     |
|quarter of an acre of fine brains; and  |
|let me see--shall I order eyes to see   |
|outwards? No, but put a sky-light on    |
|top of his head to illuminate inwards.  |
|There, take the order, and away. Now,   |
|what's he speaking about, and who's he  |
|speaking to, I should like to know?     |
|Shall I keep standing here? (ASIDE).    |
|'Tis but indifferent architecture to    |
|make a blind dome; here's one. No, no,  |
|no; I must have a lantern. Ho, ho!      |
|That's it, hey? Here are two, sir;      |
|one will serve my turn. What art thou   |
|thrusting that thief-catcher into my    |
|face for, man? Thrusted light is worse  |
|than presented pistols. I thought, sir, |
|that you spoke to carpenter. Carpenter? |
|why that's--but no;--a very tidy, and,  |
|I may say, an extremely gentlemanlike   |
|sort of business thou art in here,      |
|carpenter;--or would'st thou rather work|
|in clay? Sir?--Clay? clay, sir? That's  |
|mud; we leave clay to ditchers, sir. The|
|fellow's impious! What art thou sneezing|
|about? Bone is rather dusty, sir. Take  |
|the hint, then; and when thou art       |
|dead, never bury thyself under living   |
|people's noses. Sir?--oh! ah!--I guess  |
|so;--yes--dear! Look ye, carpenter, I   |
|dare say thou callest thyself a right   |
|good workmanlike workman, eh? Well,     |
|then, will it speak thoroughly well for |
|thy work, if, when I come to mount this |
|leg thou makest, I shall nevertheless   |
|feel another leg in the same identical  |
|place with it; that is, carpenter,      |
|my old lost leg; the flesh and blood    |
|one, I mean. Canst thou not drive that  |
|old Adam away? Truly, sir, I begin to   |
|understand somewhat now. Yes, I have    |
|heard something curious on that score,  |
|sir; how that a dismasted man never     |
|entirely loses the feeling of his old   |
|spar, but it will be still pricking him |
|at times. May I humbly ask if it be     |
|really so, sir? It is, man. Look, put   |
|thy live leg here in the place where    |
|mine once was; so, now, here is only one|
|distinct leg to the eye, yet two to the |
|soul. Where thou feelest tingling life; |
|there, exactly there, there to a hair,  |
|do I. Is't a riddle? I should humbly    |
|call it a poser, sir. Hist, then. How   |
|dost thou know that some entire, living,|
|thinking thing may not be invisibly and |
|uninterpenetratingly standing precisely |
|where thou now standest; aye, and       |
|standing there in thy spite? In thy most|
|solitary hours, then, dost thou not     |
|fear eavesdroppers? Hold, don't speak!  |
|And if I still feel the smart of my     |
|crushed leg, though it be now so long   |
|dissolved; then, why mayst not thou,    |
|carpenter, feel the fiery pains of hell |
|for ever, and without a body? Hah! Good |
|Lord! Truly, sir, if it comes to that,  |
|I must calculate over again; I think I  |
|didn't carry a small figure, sir. Look  |
|ye, pudding-heads should never grant    |
|premises.--How long before the leg is   |
|done? Perhaps an hour, sir. Bungle away |
|at it then, and bring it to me (TURNS   |
|TO GO). Oh, Life! Here I am, proud as   |
|Greek god, and yet standing debtor to   |
|this blockhead for a bone to stand on!  |
|Cursed be that mortal inter-indebtedness|
|which will not do away with ledgers.    |
|I would be free as air; and I'm down    |
|in the whole world's books. I am so     |
|rich, I could have given bid for bid    |
|with the wealthiest Praetorians at the  |
|auction of the Roman empire (which was  |
|the world's); and yet I owe for the     |
|flesh in the tongue I brag with. By     |
|heavens! I'll get a crucible, and into  |
|it, and dissolve myself down to one     |
|small, compendious vertebra. So. Well,  |
|well, well! Stubb knows him best of all,|
|and Stubb always says he's queer; says  |
|nothing but that one sufficient little  |
|word queer; he's queer, says Stubb;     |
|he's queer--queer, queer; and keeps     |
|dinning it into Mr. Starbuck all the    |
|time--queer--sir--queer, queer, very    |
|queer. And here's his leg! Yes, now that|
|I think of it, here's his bedfellow!    |
|has a stick of whale's jaw-bone for     |
|a wife! And this is his leg; he'll      |
|stand on this. What was that now about  |
|one leg standing in three places,       |
|and all three places standing in one    |
|hell--how was that? Oh! I don't wonder  |
|he looked so scornful at me! I'm a sort |
|of strange-thoughted sometimes, they    |
|say; but that's only haphazard-like.    |
|Then, a short, little old body like     |
|me, should never undertake to wade out  |
|into deep waters with tall, heron-built |
|captains; the water chucks you under    |
|the chin pretty quick, and there's a    |
|great cry for life-boats. And here's    |
|the heron's leg! long and slim, sure    |
|enough! Now, for most folks one pair of |
|legs lasts a lifetime, and that must    |
|be because they use them mercifully,    |
|as a tender-hearted old lady uses her   |
|roly-poly old coach-horses. But Ahab;   |
|oh he's a hard driver. Look, driven     |
|one leg to death, and spavined the      |
|other for life, and now wears out bone  |
|legs by the cord. Halloa, there, you    |
|Smut! bear a hand there with those      |
|screws, and let's finish it before the  |
|resurrection fellow comes a-calling with|
|his horn for all legs, true or false,   |
|as brewery-men go round collecting old  |
|beer barrels, to fill 'em up again.     |
|What a leg this is! It looks like a     |
|real live leg, filed down to nothing    |
|but the core; he'll be standing on this |
|to-morrow; he'll be taking altitudes on |
|it. Halloa! I almost forgot the little  |
|oval slate, smoothed ivory, where he    |
|figures up the latitude. So, so; chisel,|
|file, and sand-paper, now! According    |
|to usage they were pumping the ship     |
|next morning; and lo! no inconsiderable |
|oil came up with the water; the casks   |
|below must have sprung a bad leak. Much |
|concern was shown; and Starbuck went    |
|down into the cabin to report this      |
|unfavourable affair. In Sperm-whalemen  |
|with any considerable quantity of oil   |
|on board, it is a regular semiweekly    |
|duty to conduct a hose into the hold,   |
|and drench the casks with sea-water;    |
|which afterwards, at varying intervals, |
|is removed by the ship's pumps. Hereby  |
|the casks are sought to be kept damply  |
|tight; while by the changed character   |
|of the withdrawn water, the mariners    |
|readily detect any serious leakage      |
|in the precious cargo. Now, from the    |
|South and West the Pequod was drawing   |
|nigh to Formosa and the Bashee Isles,   |
|between which lies one of the tropical  |
|outlets from the China waters into the  |
|Pacific. And so Starbuck found Ahab     |
|with a general chart of the oriental    |
|archipelagoes spread before him; and    |
|another separate one representing the   |
|long eastern coasts of the Japanese     |
|islands--Niphon, Matsmai, and Sikoke.   |
|With his snow-white new ivory leg       |
|braced against the screwed leg of his   |
|table, and with a long pruning-hook of  |
|a jack-knife in his hand, the wondrous  |
|old man, with his back to the gangway   |
|door, was wrinkling his brow, and       |
|tracing his old courses again. "Who's   |
|there?" hearing the footstep at the     |
|door, but not turning round to it. "On  |
|deck! Begone!" "Captain Ahab mistakes;  |
|it is I. The oil in the hold is leaking,|
|sir. We must up Burtons and break out." |
|"Up Burtons and break out? Now that we  |
|are nearing Japan; heave-to here for a  |
|week to tinker a parcel of old hoops?"  |
|"Either do that, sir, or waste in one   |
|day more oil than we may make good in a |
|year. What we come twenty thousand miles|
|to get is worth saving, sir." "So it is,|
|so it is; if we get it." "I was speaking|
|of the oil in the hold, sir." "And I    |
|was not speaking or thinking of that at |
|all. Begone! Let it leak! I'm all aleak |
|myself. Aye! leaks in leaks! not only   |
|full of leaky casks, but those leaky    |
|casks are in a leaky ship; and that's   |
|a far worse plight than the Pequod's,   |
|man. Yet I don't stop to plug my leak;  |
|for who can find it in the deep-loaded  |
|hull; or how hope to plug it, even if   |
|found, in this life's howling gale?     |
|Starbuck! I'll not have the Burtons     |
|hoisted." "What will the owners say,    |
|sir?" "Let the owners stand on Nantucket|
|beach and outyell the Typhoons. What    |
|cares Ahab? Owners, owners? Thou art    |
|always prating to me, Starbuck, about   |
|those miserly owners, as if the owners  |
|were my conscience. But look ye, the    |
|only real owner of anything is its      |
|commander; and hark ye, my conscience   |
|is in this ship's keel.--On deck!"      |
|"Captain Ahab," said the reddening      |
|mate, moving further into the cabin,    |
|with a daring so strangely respectful   |
|and cautious that it almost seemed not  |
|only every way seeking to avoid the     |
|slightest outward manifestation of      |
|itself, but within also seemed more than|
|half distrustful of itself; "A better   |
|man than I might well pass over in thee |
|what he would quickly enough resent in  |
|a younger man; aye, and in a happier,   |
|Captain Ahab." "Devils! Dost thou then  |
|so much as dare to critically think of  |
|me?--On deck!" "Nay, sir, not yet; I    |
|do entreat. And I do dare, sir--to be   |
|forbearing! Shall we not understand each|
|other better than hitherto, Captain     |
|Ahab?" Ahab seized a loaded musket      |
|from the rack (forming part of most     |
|South-Sea-men's cabin furniture), and   |
|pointing it towards Starbuck, exclaimed:|
|"There is one God that is Lord over     |
|the earth, and one Captain that is      |
|lord over the Pequod.--On deck!" For    |
|an instant in the flashing eyes of the  |
|mate, and his fiery cheeks, you would   |
|have almost thought that he had really  |
|received the blaze of the levelled      |
|tube. But, mastering his emotion, he    |
|half calmly rose, and as he quitted the |
|cabin, paused for an instant and said:  |
|"Thou hast outraged, not insulted me,   |
|sir; but for that I ask thee not to     |
|beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst but    |
|laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab;     |
|beware of thyself, old man." "He waxes  |
|brave, but nevertheless obeys; most     |
|careful bravery that!" murmured Ahab,   |
|as Starbuck disappeared. "What's that   |
|he said--Ahab beware of Ahab--there's   |
|something there!" Then unconsciously    |
|using the musket for a staff, with an   |
|iron brow he paced to and fro in the    |
|little cabin; but presently the thick   |
|plaits of his forehead relaxed, and     |
|returning the gun to the rack, he went  |
|to the deck. "Thou art but too good a   |
|fellow, Starbuck," he said lowly to     |
|the mate; then raising his voice to     |
|the crew: "Furl the t'gallant-sails,    |
|and close-reef the top-sails, fore and  |
|aft; back the main-yard; up Burton, and |
|break out in the main-hold." It were    |
|perhaps vain to surmise exactly why     |
|it was, that as respecting Starbuck,    |
|Ahab thus acted. It may have been       |
|a flash of honesty in him; or mere      |
|prudential policy which, under the      |
|circumstance, imperiously forbade the   |
|slightest symptom of open disaffection, |
|however transient, in the important     |
|chief officer of his ship. However it   |
|was, his orders were executed; and the  |
|Burtons were hoisted. Upon searching,   |
|it was found that the casks last struck |
|into the hold were perfectly sound,     |
|and that the leak must be further off.  |
|So, it being calm weather, they broke   |
|out deeper and deeper, disturbing the   |
|slumbers of the huge ground-tier butts; |
|and from that black midnight sending    |
|those gigantic moles into the daylight  |
|above. So deep did they go; and so      |
|ancient, and corroded, and weedy the    |
|aspect of the lowermost puncheons, that |
|you almost looked next for some mouldy  |
|corner-stone cask containing coins of   |
|Captain Noah, with copies of the posted |
|placards, vainly warning the infatuated |
|old world from the flood. Tierce after  |
|tierce, too, of water, and bread, and   |
|beef, and shooks of staves, and iron    |
|bundles of hoops, were hoisted out, till|
|at last the piled decks were hard to get|
|about; and the hollow hull echoed under |
|foot, as if you were treading over empty|
|catacombs, and reeled and rolled in the |
|sea like an air-freighted demijohn.     |
|Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless  |
|student with all Aristotle in his head. |
|Well was it that the Typhoons did not   |
|visit them then. Now, at this time it   |
|was that my poor pagan companion, and   |
|fast bosom-friend, Queequeg, was seized |
|with a fever, which brought him nigh to |
|his endless end. Be it said, that in    |
|this vocation of whaling, sinecures are |
|unknown; dignity and danger go hand in  |
|hand; till you get to be Captain, the   |
|higher you rise the harder you toil. So |
|with poor Queequeg, who, as harpooneer, |
|must not only face all the rage of the  |
|living whale, but--as we have elsewhere |
|seen--mount his dead back in a rolling  |
|sea; and finally descend into the gloom |
|of the hold, and bitterly sweating all  |
|day in that subterraneous confinement,  |
|resolutely manhandle the clumsiest      |
|casks and see to their stowage. To be   |
|short, among whalemen, the harpooneers  |
|are the holders, so called. Poor        |
|Queequeg! when the ship was about half  |
|disembowelled, you should have stooped  |
|over the hatchway, and peered down      |
|upon him there; where, stripped to his  |
|woollen drawers, the tattooed savage    |
|was crawling about amid that dampness   |
|and slime, like a green spotted lizard  |
|at the bottom of a well. And a well, or |
|an ice-house, it somehow proved to him, |
|poor pagan; where, strange to say, for  |
|all the heat of his sweatings, he caught|
|a terrible chill which lapsed into a    |
|fever; and at last, after some days'    |
|suffering, laid him in his hammock,     |
|close to the very sill of the door of   |
|death. How he wasted and wasted away    |
|in those few long-lingering days, till  |
|there seemed but little left of him but |
|his frame and tattooing. But as all else|
|in him thinned, and his cheek-bones     |
|grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless,   |
|seemed growing fuller and fuller; they  |
|became of a strange softness of lustre; |
|and mildly but deeply looked out at you |
|there from his sickness, a wondrous     |
|testimony to that immortal health in him|
|which could not die, or be weakened. And|
|like circles on the water, which, as    |
|they grow fainter, expand; so his eyes  |
|seemed rounding and rounding, like the  |
|rings of Eternity. An awe that cannot   |
|be named would steal over you as you    |
|sat by the side of this waning savage,  |
|and saw as strange things in his face,  |
|as any beheld who were bystanders when  |
|Zoroaster died. For whatever is truly   |
|wondrous and fearful in man, never yet  |
|was put into words or books. And the    |
|drawing near of Death, which alike      |
|levels all, alike impresses all with a  |
|last revelation, which only an author   |
|from the dead could adequately tell.    |
|So that--let us say it again--no dying  |
|Chaldee or Greek had higher and holier  |
|thoughts than those, whose mysterious   |
|shades you saw creeping over the face   |
|of poor Queequeg, as he quietly lay in  |
|his swaying hammock, and the rolling    |
|sea seemed gently rocking him to his    |
|final rest, and the ocean's invisible   |
|flood-tide lifted him higher and higher |
|towards his destined heaven. Not a man  |
|of the crew but gave him up; and, as for|
|Queequeg himself, what he thought of his|
|case was forcibly shown by a curious    |
|favour he asked. He called one to him   |
|in the grey morning watch, when the day |
|was just breaking, and taking his hand, |
|said that while in Nantucket he had     |
|chanced to see certain little canoes    |
|of dark wood, like the rich war-wood    |
|of his native isle; and upon inquiry,   |
|he had learned that all whalemen who    |
|died in Nantucket, were laid in those   |
|same dark canoes, and that the fancy    |
|of being so laid had much pleased him;  |
|for it was not unlike the custom of his |
|own race, who, after embalming a dead   |
|warrior, stretched him out in his canoe,|
|and so left him to be floated away to   |
|the starry archipelagoes; for not only  |
|do they believe that the stars are      |
|isles, but that far beyond all visible  |
|horizons, their own mild, uncontinented |
|seas, interflow with the blue heavens;  |
|and so form the white breakers of the   |
|milky way. He added, that he shuddered  |
|at the thought of being buried in       |
|his hammock, according to the usual     |
|sea-custom, tossed like something vile  |
|to the death-devouring sharks. No: he   |
|desired a canoe like those of Nantucket,|
|all the more congenial to him, being a  |
|whaleman, that like a whale-boat these  |
|coffin-canoes were without a keel;      |
|though that involved but uncertain      |
|steering, and much lee-way adown the    |
|dim ages. Now, when this strange        |
|circumstance was made known aft, the    |
|carpenter was at once commanded to do   |
|Queequeg's bidding, whatever it might   |
|include. There was some heathenish,     |
|coffin-coloured old lumber aboard,      |
|which, upon a long previous voyage,     |
|had been cut from the aboriginal        |
|groves of the Lackaday islands, and     |
|from these dark planks the coffin was   |
|recommended to be made. No sooner was   |
|the carpenter apprised of the order,    |
|than taking his rule, he forthwith with |
|all the indifferent promptitude of his  |
|character, proceeded into the forecastle|
|and took Queequeg's measure with great  |
|accuracy, regularly chalking Queequeg's |
|person as he shifted the rule. "Ah!     |
|poor fellow! he'll have to die now,"    |
|ejaculated the Long Island sailor. Going|
|to his vice-bench, the carpenter for    |
|convenience sake and general reference, |
|now transferringly measured on it the   |
|exact length the coffin was to be, and  |
|then made the transfer permanent by     |
|cutting two notches at its extremities. |
|This done, he marshalled the planks     |
|and his tools, and to work. When the    |
|last nail was driven, and the lid duly  |
|planed and fitted, he lightly shouldered|
|the coffin and went forward with it,    |
|inquiring whether they were ready for   |
|it yet in that direction. Overhearing   |
|the indignant but half-humorous cries   |
|with which the people on deck began to  |
|drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to     |
|every one's consternation, commanded    |
|that the thing should be instantly      |
|brought to him, nor was there any       |
|denying him; seeing that, of all        |
|mortals, some dying men are the most    |
|tyrannical; and certainly, since they   |
|will shortly trouble us so little for   |
|evermore, the poor fellows ought to be  |
|indulged. Leaning over in his hammock,  |
|Queequeg long regarded the coffin       |
|with an attentive eye. He then called   |
|for his harpoon, had the wooden stock   |
|drawn from it, and then had the iron    |
|part placed in the coffin along with    |
|one of the paddles of his boat. All by  |
|his own request, also, biscuits were    |
|then ranged round the sides within: a   |
|flask of fresh water was placed at the  |
|head, and a small bag of woody earth    |
|scraped up in the hold at the foot; and |
|a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up   |
|for a pillow, Queequeg now entreated    |
|to be lifted into his final bed, that   |
|he might make trial of its comforts,    |
|if any it had. He lay without moving    |
|a few minutes, then told one to go to   |
|his bag and bring out his little god,   |
|Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his     |
|breast with Yojo between, he called for |
|the coffin lid (hatch he called it)     |
|to be placed over him. The head part    |
|turned over with a leather hinge, and   |
|there lay Queequeg in his coffin with   |
|little but his composed countenance     |
|in view. "Rarmai" (it will do; it is    |
|easy), he murmured at last, and signed  |
|to be replaced in his hammock. But ere  |
|this was done, Pip, who had been slily  |
|hovering near by all this while, drew   |
|nigh to him where he lay, and with soft |
|sobbings, took him by the hand; in the  |
|other, holding his tambourine. "Poor    |
|rover! will ye never have done with all |
|this weary roving? where go ye now?     |
|But if the currents carry ye to those   |
|sweet Antilles where the beaches are    |
|only beat with water-lilies, will ye    |
|do one little errand for me? Seek out   |
|one Pip, who's now been missing long:   |
|I think he's in those far Antilles. If  |
|ye find him, then comfort him; for he   |
|must be very sad; for look! he's left   |
|his tambourine behind;--I found it.     |
|Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die;|
|and I'll beat ye your dying march." "I  |
|have heard," murmured Starbuck, gazing  |
|down the scuttle, "that in violent      |
|fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked |
|in ancient tongues; and that when the   |
|mystery is probed, it turns out always  |
|that in their wholly forgotten childhood|
|those ancient tongues had been really   |
|spoken in their hearing by some lofty   |
|scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor    |
|Pip, in this strange sweetness of his   |
|lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers of     |
|all our heavenly homes. Where learned   |
|he that, but there?--Hark! he speaks    |
|again: but more wildly now." "Form two  |
|and two! Let's make a General of him!   |
|Ho, where's his harpoon? Lay it across  |
|here.--Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh   |
|for a game cock now to sit upon his head|
|and crow! Queequeg dies game!--mind     |
|ye that; Queequeg dies game!--take ye   |
|good heed of that; Queequeg dies game!  |
|I say; game, game, game! but base       |
|little Pip, he died a coward; died all  |
|a'shiver;--out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye |
|find Pip, tell all the Antilles he's a  |
|runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward!  |
|Tell them he jumped from a whale-boat!  |
|I'd never beat my tambourine over base  |
|Pip, and hail him General, if he were   |
|once more dying here. No, no! shame upon|
|all cowards--shame upon them! Let 'em   |
|go drown like Pip, that jumped from a   |
|whale-boat. Shame! shame!" During all   |
|this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes,    |
|as if in a dream. Pip was led away,     |
|and the sick man was replaced in his    |
|hammock. But now that he had apparently |
|made every preparation for death; now   |
|that his coffin was proved a good fit,  |
|Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon there   |
|seemed no need of the carpenter's box:  |
|and thereupon, when some expressed their|
|delighted surprise, he, in substance,   |
|said, that the cause of his sudden      |
|convalescence was this;--at a critical  |
|moment, he had just recalled a little   |
|duty ashore, which he was leaving       |
|undone; and therefore had changed his   |
|mind about dying: he could not die      |
|yet, he averred. They asked him, then,  |
|whether to live or die was a matter of  |
|his own sovereign will and pleasure. He |
|answered, certainly. In a word, it was  |
|Queequeg's conceit, that if a man made  |
|up his mind to live, mere sickness could|
|not kill him: nothing but a whale, or   |
|a gale, or some violent, ungovernable,  |
|unintelligent destroyer of that sort.   |
|Now, there is this noteworthy difference|
|between savage and civilized; that while|
|a sick, civilized man may be six months |
|convalescing, generally speaking, a sick|
|savage is almost half-well again in a   |
|day. So, in good time my Queequeg gained|
|strength; and at length after sitting   |
|on the windlass for a few indolent days |
|(but eating with a vigorous appetite)   |
|he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw   |
|out his arms and legs, gave himself a   |
|good stretching, yawned a little bit,   |
|and then springing into the head of his |
|hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon,    |
|pronounced himself fit for a fight.     |
|With a wild whimsiness, he now used his |
|coffin for a sea-chest; and emptying    |
|into it his canvas bag of clothes, set  |
|them in order there. Many spare hours   |
|he spent, in carving the lid with       |
|all manner of grotesque figures and     |
|drawings; and it seemed that hereby he  |
|was striving, in his rude way, to copy  |
|parts of the twisted tattooing on his   |
|body. And this tattooing had been the   |
|work of a departed prophet and seer of  |
|his island, who, by those hieroglyphic  |
|marks, had written out on his body a    |
|complete theory of the heavens and the  |
|earth, and a mystical treatise on the   |
|art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg|
|in his own proper person was a riddle to|
|unfold; a wondrous work in one volume;  |
|but whose mysteries not even himself    |
|could read, though his own live heart   |
|beat against them; and these mysteries  |
|were therefore destined in the end to   |
|moulder away with the living parchment  |
|whereon they were inscribed, and so be  |
|unsolved to the last. And this thought  |
|it must have been which suggested to    |
|Ahab that wild exclamation of his,      |
|when one morning turning away from      |
|surveying poor Queequeg--"Oh, devilish  |
|tantalization of the gods!" When gliding|
|by the Bashee isles we emerged at last  |
|upon the great South Sea; were it not   |
|for other things, I could have greeted  |
|my dear Pacific with uncounted thanks,  |
|for now the long supplication of my     |
|youth was answered; that serene ocean   |
|rolled eastwards from me a thousand     |
|leagues of blue. There is, one knows    |
|not what sweet mystery about this sea,  |
|whose gently awful stirrings seem to    |
|speak of some hidden soul beneath;      |
|like those fabled undulations of the    |
|Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist |
|St. John. And meet it is, that over     |
|these sea-pastures, wide-rolling        |
|watery prairies and Potters' Fields     |
|of all four continents, the waves       |
|should rise and fall, and ebb and flow  |
|unceasingly; for here, millions of mixed|
|shades and shadows, drowned dreams,     |
|somnambulisms, reveries; all that we    |
|call lives and souls, lie dreaming,     |
|dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers|
|in their beds; the ever-rolling waves   |
|but made so by their restlessness.      |
|To any meditative Magian rover, this    |
|serene Pacific, once beheld, must ever  |
|after be the sea of his adoption. It    |
|rolls the midmost waters of the world,  |
|the Indian ocean and Atlantic being     |
|but its arms. The same waves wash the   |
|moles of the new-built Californian      |
|towns, but yesterday planted by the     |
|recentest race of men, and lave the     |
|faded but still gorgeous skirts of      |
|Asiatic lands, older than Abraham;      |
|while all between float milky-ways of   |
|coral isles, and low-lying, endless,    |
|unknown Archipelagoes, and impenetrable |
|Japans. Thus this mysterious, divine    |
|Pacific zones the world's whole bulk    |
|about; makes all coasts one bay to it;  |
|seems the tide-beating heart of earth.  |
|Lifted by those eternal swells, you     |
|needs must own the seductive god, bowing|
|your head to Pan. But few thoughts of   |
|Pan stirred Ahab's brain, as standing   |
|like an iron statue at his accustomed   |
|place beside the mizen rigging, with    |
|one nostril he unthinkingly snuffed     |
|the sugary musk from the Bashee isles   |
|(in whose sweet woods mild lovers       |
|must be walking), and with the other    |
|consciously inhaled the salt breath of  |
|the new found sea; that sea in which    |
|the hated White Whale must even then    |
|be swimming. Launched at length upon    |
|these almost final waters, and gliding  |
|towards the Japanese cruising-ground,   |
|the old man's purpose intensified       |
|itself. His firm lips met like the lips |
|of a vice; the Delta of his forehead's  |
|veins swelled like overladen brooks;    |
|in his very sleep, his ringing cry      |
|ran through the vaulted hull, "Stern    |
|all! the White Whale spouts thick       |
|blood!" Availing himself of the mild,   |
|summer-cool weather that now reigned    |
|in these latitudes, and in preparation  |
|for the peculiarly active pursuits      |
|shortly to be anticipated, Perth, the   |
|begrimed, blistered old blacksmith,     |
|had not removed his portable forge      |
|to the hold again, after concluding     |
|his contributory work for Ahab's leg,   |
|but still retained it on deck, fast     |
|lashed to ringbolts by the foremast;    |
|being now almost incessantly invoked    |
|by the headsmen, and harpooneers, and   |
|bowsmen to do some little job for       |
|them; altering, or repairing, or new    |
|shaping their various weapons and boat  |
|furniture. Often he would be surrounded |
|by an eager circle, all waiting to be   |
|served; holding boat-spades, pike-heads,|
|harpoons, and lances, and jealously     |
|watching his every sooty movement,      |
|as he toiled. Nevertheless, this old    |
|man's was a patient hammer wielded by a |
|patient arm. No murmur, no impatience,  |
|no petulance did come from him. Silent, |
|slow, and solemn; bowing over still     |
|further his chronically broken back,    |
|he toiled away, as if toil were life    |
|itself, and the heavy beating of his    |
|hammer the heavy beating of his heart.  |
|And so it was.--Most miserable! A       |
|peculiar walk in this old man, a certain|
|slight but painful appearing yawing in  |
|his gait, had at an early period of     |
|the voyage excited the curiosity of     |
|the mariners. And to the importunity    |
|of their persisted questionings he had  |
|finally given in; and so it came to pass|
|that every one now knew the shameful    |
|story of his wretched fate. Belated,    |
|and not innocently, one bitter winter's |
|midnight, on the road running between   |
|two country towns, the blacksmith       |
|half-stupidly felt the deadly numbness  |
|stealing over him, and sought refuge    |
|in a leaning, dilapidated barn. The     |
|issue was, the loss of the extremities  |
|of both feet. Out of this revelation,   |
|part by part, at last came out the four |
|acts of the gladness, and the one long, |
|and as yet uncatastrophied fifth act of |
|the grief of his life's drama. He was   |
|an old man, who, at the age of nearly   |
|sixty, had postponedly encountered that |
|thing in sorrow's technicals called     |
|ruin. He had been an artisan of famed   |
|excellence, and with plenty to do; owned|
|a house and garden; embraced a youthful,|
|daughter-like, loving wife, and three   |
|blithe, ruddy children; every Sunday    |
|went to a cheerful-looking church,      |
|planted in a grove. But one night, under|
|cover of darkness, and further concealed|
|in a most cunning disguisement, a       |
|desperate burglar slid into his happy   |
|home, and robbed them all of everything.|
|And darker yet to tell, the blacksmith  |
|himself did ignorantly conduct this     |
|burglar into his family's heart. It was |
|the Bottle Conjuror! Upon the opening   |
|of that fatal cork, forth flew the      |
|fiend, and shrivelled up his home. Now, |
|for prudent, most wise, and economic    |
|reasons, the blacksmith's shop was in   |
|the basement of his dwelling, but with a|
|separate entrance to it; so that always |
|had the young and loving healthy wife   |
|listened with no unhappy nervousness,   |
|but with vigorous pleasure, to the stout|
|ringing of her young-armed old husband's|
|hammer; whose reverberations, muffled by|
|passing through the floors and walls,   |
|came up to her, not unsweetly, in her   |
|nursery; and so, to stout Labor's iron  |
|lullaby, the blacksmith's infants were  |
|rocked to slumber. Oh, woe on woe! Oh,  |
|Death, why canst thou not sometimes     |
|be timely? Hadst thou taken this old    |
|blacksmith to thyself ere his full ruin |
|came upon him, then had the young widow |
|had a delicious grief, and her orphans  |
|a truly venerable, legendary sire to    |
|dream of in their after years; and all  |
|of them a care-killing competency. But  |
|Death plucked down some virtuous elder  |
|brother, on whose whistling daily toil  |
|solely hung the responsibilities of     |
|some other family, and left the worse   |
|than useless old man standing, till the |
|hideous rot of life should make him     |
|easier to harvest. Why tell the whole?  |
|The blows of the basement hammer every  |
|day grew more and more between; and     |
|each blow every day grew fainter than   |
|the last; the wife sat frozen at the    |
|window, with tearless eyes, glitteringly|
|gazing into the weeping faces of her    |
|children; the bellows fell; the forge   |
|choked up with cinders; the house was   |
|sold; the mother dived down into the    |
|long church-yard grass; her children    |
|twice followed her thither; and the     |
|houseless, familyless old man staggered |
|off a vagabond in crape; his every woe  |
|unreverenced; his grey head a scorn     |
|to flaxen curls! Death seems the only   |
|desirable sequel for a career like      |
|this; but Death is only a launching     |
|into the region of the strange Untried; |
|it is but the first salutation to the   |
|possibilities of the immense Remote,    |
|the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored;     |
|therefore, to the death-longing eyes    |
|of such men, who still have left in     |
|them some interior compunctions against |
|suicide, does the all-contributed and   |
|all-receptive ocean alluringly spread   |
|forth his whole plain of unimaginable,  |
|taking terrors, and wonderful, new-life |
|adventures; and from the hearts of      |
|infinite Pacifics, the thousand         |
|mermaids sing to them--"Come hither,    |
|broken-hearted; here is another life    |
|without the guilt of intermediate death;|
|here are wonders supernatural, without  |
|dying for them. Come hither! bury       |
|thyself in a life which, to your now    |
|equally abhorred and abhorring, landed  |
|world, is more oblivious than death.    |
|Come hither! put up THY gravestone,     |
|too, within the churchyard, and come    |
|hither, till we marry thee!" Hearkening |
|to these voices, East and West, by      |
|early sunrise, and by fall of eve,      |
|the blacksmith's soul responded, Aye,   |
|I come! And so Perth went a-whaling.    |
|With matted beard, and swathed in a     |
|bristling shark-skin apron, about       |
|mid-day, Perth was standing between his |
|forge and anvil, the latter placed upon |
|an iron-wood log, with one hand holding |
|a pike-head in the coals, and with      |
|the other at his forge's lungs, when    |
|Captain Ahab came along, carrying in    |
|his hand a small rusty-looking leathern |
|bag. While yet a little distance from   |
|the forge, moody Ahab paused; till at   |
|last, Perth, withdrawing his iron from  |
|the fire, began hammering it upon the   |
|anvil--the red mass sending off the     |
|sparks in thick hovering flights, some  |
|of which flew close to Ahab. "Are these |
|thy Mother Carey's chickens, Perth? they|
|are always flying in thy wake; birds of |
|good omen, too, but not to all;--look   |
|here, they burn; but thou--thou liv'st  |
|among them without a scorch." "Because  |
|I am scorched all over, Captain Ahab,"  |
|answered Perth, resting for a moment    |
|on his hammer; "I am past scorching;    |
|not easily can'st thou scorch a scar."  |
|"Well, well; no more. Thy shrunk voice  |
|sounds too calmly, sanely woeful to me. |
|In no Paradise myself, I am impatient of|
|all misery in others that is not mad.   |
|Thou should'st go mad, blacksmith; say, |
|why dost thou not go mad? How can'st    |
|thou endure without being mad? Do the   |
|heavens yet hate thee, that thou can'st |
|not go mad?--What wert thou making      |
|there?" "Welding an old pike-head, sir; |
|there were seams and dents in it." "And |
|can'st thou make it all smooth again,   |
|blacksmith, after such hard usage as    |
|it had?" "I think so, sir." "And I      |
|suppose thou can'st smoothe almost any  |
|seams and dents; never mind how hard    |
|the metal, blacksmith?" "Aye, sir, I    |
|think I can; all seams and dents but    |
|one." "Look ye here, then," cried Ahab, |
|passionately advancing, and leaning     |
|with both hands on Perth's shoulders;   |
|"look ye here--HERE--can ye smoothe out |
|a seam like this, blacksmith," sweeping |
|one hand across his ribbed brow; "if    |
|thou could'st, blacksmith, glad enough  |
|would I lay my head upon thy anvil, and |
|feel thy heaviest hammer between my     |
|eyes. Answer! Can'st thou smoothe this  |
|seam?" "Oh! that is the one, sir! Said  |
|I not all seams and dents but one?"     |
|"Aye, blacksmith, it is the one; aye,   |
|man, it is unsmoothable; for though     |
|thou only see'st it here in my flesh,   |
|it has worked down into the bone of my  |
|skull--THAT is all wrinkles! But, away  |
|with child's play; no more gaffs and    |
|pikes to-day. Look ye here!" jingling   |
|the leathern bag, as if it were full    |
|of gold coins. "I, too, want a harpoon  |
|made; one that a thousand yoke of fiends|
|could not part, Perth; something that   |
|will stick in a whale like his own      |
|fin-bone. There's the stuff," flinging  |
|the pouch upon the anvil. "Look ye,     |
|blacksmith, these are the gathered      |
|nail-stubbs of the steel shoes of       |
|racing horses." "Horse-shoe stubbs,     |
|sir? Why, Captain Ahab, thou hast here, |
|then, the best and stubbornest stuff we |
|blacksmiths ever work." "I know it, old |
|man; these stubbs will weld together    |
|like glue from the melted bones of      |
|murderers. Quick! forge me the harpoon. |
|And forge me first, twelve rods for its |
|shank; then wind, and twist, and hammer |
|these twelve together like the yarns    |
|and strands of a tow-line. Quick! I'll  |
|blow the fire." When at last the twelve |
|rods were made, Ahab tried them, one by |
|one, by spiralling them, with his own   |
|hand, round a long, heavy iron bolt. "A |
|flaw!" rejecting the last one. "Work    |
|that over again, Perth." This done,     |
|Perth was about to begin welding the    |
|twelve into one, when Ahab stayed his   |
|hand, and said he would weld his own    |
|iron. As, then, with regular, gasping   |
|hems, he hammered on the anvil, Perth   |
|passing to him the glowing rods, one    |
|after the other, and the hard pressed   |
|forge shooting up its intense straight  |
|flame, the Parsee passed silently,      |
|and bowing over his head towards the    |
|fire, seemed invoking some curse or     |
|some blessing on the toil. But, as Ahab |
|looked up, he slid aside. "What's that  |
|bunch of lucifers dodging about there   |
|for?" muttered Stubb, looking on from   |
|the forecastle. "That Parsee smells fire|
|like a fusee; and smells of it himself, |
|like a hot musket's powder-pan." At last|
|the shank, in one complete rod, received|
|its final heat; and as Perth, to temper |
|it, plunged it all hissing into the     |
|cask of water near by, the scalding     |
|steam shot up into Ahab's bent face.    |
|"Would'st thou brand me, Perth?" wincing|
|for a moment with the pain; "have I     |
|been but forging my own branding-iron,  |
|then?" "Pray God, not that; yet I fear  |
|something, Captain Ahab. Is not this    |
|harpoon for the White Whale?" "For the  |
|white fiend! But now for the barbs; thou|
|must make them thyself, man. Here are   |
|my razors--the best of steel; here, and |
|make the barbs sharp as the needle-sleet|
|of the Icy Sea." For a moment, the old  |
|blacksmith eyed the razors as though he |
|would fain not use them. "Take them,    |
|man, I have no need for them; for I now |
|neither shave, sup, nor pray till--but  |
|here--to work!" Fashioned at last into  |
|an arrowy shape, and welded by Perth to |
|the shank, the steel soon pointed the   |
|end of the iron; and as the blacksmith  |
|was about giving the barbs their final  |
|heat, prior to tempering them, he cried |
|to Ahab to place the water-cask near.   |
|"No, no--no water for that; I want it   |
|of the true death-temper. Ahoy, there!  |
|Tashtego, Queequeg, Daggoo! What say    |
|ye, pagans! Will ye give me as much     |
|blood as will cover this barb?" holding |
|it high up. A cluster of dark nods      |
|replied, Yes. Three punctures were made |
|in the heathen flesh, and the White     |
|Whale's barbs were then tempered. "Ego  |
|non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed    |
|in nomine diaboli!" deliriously howled  |
|Ahab, as the malignant iron scorchingly |
|devoured the baptismal blood. Now,      |
|mustering the spare poles from below,   |
|and selecting one of hickory, with the  |
|bark still investing it, Ahab fitted the|
|end to the socket of the iron. A coil of|
|new tow-line was then unwound, and some |
|fathoms of it taken to the windlass, and|
|stretched to a great tension. Pressing  |
|his foot upon it, till the rope hummed  |
|like a harp-string, then eagerly bending|
|over it, and seeing no strandings,      |
|Ahab exclaimed, "Good! and now for the  |
|seizings." At one extremity the rope    |
|was unstranded, and the separate spread |
|yarns were all braided and woven round  |
|the socket of the harpoon; the pole was |
|then driven hard up into the socket;    |
|from the lower end the rope was traced  |
|half-way along the pole's length, and   |
|firmly secured so, with intertwistings  |
|of twine. This done, pole, iron, and    |
|rope--like the Three Fates--remained    |
|inseparable, and Ahab moodily stalked   |
|away with the weapon; the sound of his  |
|ivory leg, and the sound of the hickory |
|pole, both hollowly ringing along every |
|plank. But ere he entered his cabin,    |
|light, unnatural, half-bantering, yet   |
|most piteous sound was heard. Oh,       |
|Pip! thy wretched laugh, thy idle but   |
|unresting eye; all thy strange mummeries|
|not unmeaningly blended with the black  |
|tragedy of the melancholy ship, and     |
|mocked it! Penetrating further and      |
|further into the heart of the Japanese  |
|cruising ground, the Pequod was soon    |
|all astir in the fishery. Often, in     |
|mild, pleasant weather, for twelve,     |
|fifteen, eighteen, and twenty hours on  |
|the stretch, they were engaged in the   |
|boats, steadily pulling, or sailing, or |
|paddling after the whales, or for an    |
|interlude of sixty or seventy minutes   |
|calmly awaiting their uprising; though  |
|with but small success for their pains. |
|At such times, under an abated sun;     |
|afloat all day upon smooth, slow heaving|
|swells; seated in his boat, light as a  |
|birch canoe; and so sociably mixing with|
|the soft waves themselves, that like    |
|hearth-stone cats they purr against the |
|gunwale; these are the times of dreamy  |
|quietude, when beholding the tranquil   |
|beauty and brilliancy of the ocean's    |
|skin, one forgets the tiger heart       |
|that pants beneath it; and would not    |
|willingly remember, that this velvet paw|
|but conceals a remorseless fang. These  |
|are the times, when in his whale-boat   |
|the rover softly feels a certain filial,|
|confident, land-like feeling towards    |
|the sea; that he regards it as so much  |
|flowery earth; and the distant ship     |
|revealing only the tops of her masts,   |
|seems struggling forward, not through   |
|high rolling waves, but through the tall|
|grass of a rolling prairie: as when the |
|western emigrants' horses only show     |
|their erected ears, while their hidden  |
|bodies widely wade through the amazing  |
|verdure. The long-drawn virgin vales;   |
|the mild blue hill-sides; as over these |
|there steals the hush, the hum; you     |
|almost swear that play-wearied children |
|lie sleeping in these solitudes, in     |
|some glad May-time, when the flowers    |
|of the woods are plucked. And all this  |
|mixes with your most mystic mood; so    |
|that fact and fancy, half-way meeting,  |
|interpenetrate, and form one seamless   |
|whole. Nor did such soothing scenes,    |
|however temporary, fail of at least     |
|as temporary an effect on Ahab. But     |
|if these secret golden keys did seem    |
|to open in him his own secret golden    |
|treasuries, yet did his breath upon them|
|prove but tarnishing. Oh, grassy glades!|
|oh, ever vernal endless landscapes in   |
|the soul; in ye,--though long parched   |
|by the dead drought of the earthy       |
|life,--in ye, men yet may roll, like    |
|young horses in new morning clover; and |
|for some few fleeting moments, feel     |
|the cool dew of the life immortal on    |
|them. Would to God these blessed calms  |
|would last. But the mingled, mingling   |
|threads of life are woven by warp and   |
|woof: calms crossed by storms, a storm  |
|for every calm. There is no steady      |
|unretracing progress in this life; we do|
|not advance through fixed gradations,   |
|and at the last one pause:--through     |
|infancy's unconscious spell, boyhood's  |
|thoughtless faith, adolescence' doubt   |
|(the common doom), then scepticism, then|
|disbelief, resting at last in manhood's |
|pondering repose of If. But once gone   |
|through, we trace the round again; and  |
|are infants, boys, and men, and Ifs     |
|eternally. Where lies the final harbor, |
|whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt  |
|ether sails the world, of which the     |
|weariest will never weary? Where is the |
|foundling's father hidden? Our souls    |
|are like those orphans whose unwedded   |
|mothers die in bearing them: the secret |
|of our paternity lies in their grave,   |
|and we must there to learn it. And that |
|same day, too, gazing far down from his |
|boat's side into that same golden sea,  |
|Starbuck lowly murmured:-- "Loveliness  |
|unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his  |
|young bride's eye!--Tell me not of thy  |
|teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping |
|cannibal ways. Let faith oust fact; let |
|fancy oust memory; I look deep down     |
|and do believe." And Stubb, fish-like,  |
|with sparkling scales, leaped up in     |
|that same golden light:-- "I am Stubb,  |
|and Stubb has his history; but here     |
|Stubb takes oaths that he has always    |
|been jolly!" And jolly enough were the  |
|sights and the sounds that came bearing |
|down before the wind, some few weeks    |
|after Ahab's harpoon had been welded.   |
|It was a Nantucket ship, the Bachelor,  |
|which had just wedged in her last cask  |
|of oil, and bolted down her bursting    |
|hatches; and now, in glad holiday       |
|apparel, was joyously, though somewhat  |
|vain-gloriously, sailing round among the|
|widely-separated ships on the ground,   |
|previous to pointing her prow for home. |
|The three men at her mast-head wore     |
|long streamers of narrow red bunting at |
|their hats; from the stern, a whale-boat|
|was suspended, bottom down; and hanging |
|captive from the bowsprit was seen the  |
|long lower jaw of the last whale they   |
|had slain. Signals, ensigns, and jacks  |
|of all colours were flying from her     |
|rigging, on every side. Sideways lashed |
|in each of her three basketed tops were |
|two barrels of sperm; above which,      |
|in her top-mast cross-trees, you saw    |
|slender breakers of the same precious   |
|fluid; and nailed to her main truck     |
|was a brazen lamp. As was afterwards    |
|learned, the Bachelor had met with the  |
|most surprising success; all the more   |
|wonderful, for that while cruising in   |
|the same seas numerous other vessels    |
|had gone entire months without securing |
|a single fish. Not only had barrels of  |
|beef and bread been given away to make  |
|room for the far more valuable sperm,   |
|but additional supplemental casks had   |
|been bartered for, from the ships she   |
|had met; and these were stowed along the|
|deck, and in the captain's and officers'|
|state-rooms. Even the cabin table itself|
|had been knocked into kindling-wood;    |
|and the cabin mess dined off the broad  |
|head of an oil-butt, lashed down to     |
|the floor for a centrepiece. In the     |
|forecastle, the sailors had actually    |
|caulked and pitched their chests, and   |
|filled them; it was humorously added,   |
|that the cook had clapped a head on     |
|his largest boiler, and filled it;      |
|that the steward had plugged his spare  |
|coffee-pot and filled it; that the      |
|harpooneers had headed the sockets of   |
|their irons and filled them; that indeed|
|everything was filled with sperm, except|
|the captain's pantaloons pockets, and   |
|those he reserved to thrust his hands   |
|into, in self-complacent testimony of   |
|his entire satisfaction. As this glad   |
|ship of good luck bore down upon the    |
|moody Pequod, the barbarian sound of    |
|enormous drums came from her forecastle;|
|and drawing still nearer, a crowd of    |
|her men were seen standing round her    |
|huge try-pots, which, covered with the  |
|parchment-like POKE or stomach skin of  |
|the black fish, gave forth a loud roar  |
|to every stroke of the clenched hands   |
|of the crew. On the quarter-deck, the   |
|mates and harpooneers were dancing with |
|the olive-hued girls who had eloped with|
|them from the Polynesian Isles; while   |
|suspended in an ornamented boat, firmly |
|secured aloft between the foremast and  |
|mainmast, three Long Island negroes,    |
|with glittering fiddle-bows of whale    |
|ivory, were presiding over the hilarious|
|jig. Meanwhile, others of the ship's    |
|company were tumultuously busy at the   |
|masonry of the try-works, from which the|
|huge pots had been removed. You would   |
|have almost thought they were pulling   |
|down the cursed Bastille, such wild     |
|cries they raised, as the now useless   |
|brick and mortar were being hurled into |
|the sea. Lord and master over all this  |
|scene, the captain stood erect on the   |
|ship's elevated quarter-deck, so that   |
|the whole rejoicing drama was full      |
|before him, and seemed merely contrived |
|for his own individual diversion.       |
|And Ahab, he too was standing on his    |
|quarter-deck, shaggy and black, with a  |
|stubborn gloom; and as the two ships    |
|crossed each other's wakes--one all     |
|jubilations for things passed, the      |
|other all forebodings as to things to   |
|come--their two captains in themselves  |
|impersonated the whole striking         |
|contrast of the scene. "Come aboard,    |
|come aboard!" cried the gay Bachelor's  |
|commander, lifting a glass and a bottle |
|in the air. "Hast seen the White Whale?"|
|gritted Ahab in reply. "No; only heard  |
|of him; but don't believe in him at     |
|all," said the other good-humoredly.    |
|"Come aboard!" "Thou art too damned     |
|jolly. Sail on. Hast lost any men?"     |
|"Not enough to speak of--two islanders, |
|that's all;--but come aboard, old       |
|hearty, come along. I'll soon take that |
|black from your brow. Come along, will  |
|ye (merry's the play); a full ship and  |
|homeward-bound." "How wondrous familiar |
|is a fool!" muttered Ahab; then aloud,  |
|"Thou art a full ship and homeward      |
|bound, thou sayst; well, then, call me  |
|an empty ship, and outward-bound. So    |
|go thy ways, and I will mine. Forward   |
|there! Set all sail, and keep her to    |
|the wind!" And thus, while the one ship |
|went cheerily before the breeze, the    |
|other stubbornly fought against it; and |
|so the two vessels parted; the crew of  |
|the Pequod looking with grave, lingering|
|glances towards the receding Bachelor;  |
|but the Bachelor's men never heeding    |
|their gaze for the lively revelry they  |
|were in. And as Ahab, leaning over the  |
|taffrail, eyed the homewardbound craft, |
|he took from his pocket a small vial of |
|sand, and then looking from the ship    |
|to the vial, seemed thereby bringing    |
|two remote associations together, for   |
|that vial was filled with Nantucket     |
|soundings. Not seldom in this life,     |
|when, on the right side, fortune's      |
|favourites sail close by us, we, though |
|all adroop before, catch somewhat of    |
|the rushing breeze, and joyfully feel   |
|our bagging sails fill out. So seemed   |
|it with the Pequod. For next day after  |
|encountering the gay Bachelor, whales   |
|were seen and four were slain; and one  |
|of them by Ahab. It was far down the    |
|afternoon; and when all the spearings   |
|of the crimson fight were done: and     |
|floating in the lovely sunset sea and   |
|sky, sun and whale both stilly died     |
|together; then, such a sweetness and    |
|such plaintiveness, such inwreathing    |
|orisons curled up in that rosy air,     |
|that it almost seemed as if far over    |
|from the deep green convent valleys     |
|of the Manilla isles, the Spanish       |
|land-breeze, wantonly turned sailor,    |
|had gone to sea, freighted with these   |
|vesper hymns. Soothed again, but only   |
|soothed to deeper gloom, Ahab, who had  |
|sterned off from the whale, sat intently|
|watching his final wanings from the     |
|now tranquil boat. For that strange     |
|spectacle observable in all sperm       |
|whales dying--the turning sunwards of   |
|the head, and so expiring--that strange |
|spectacle, beheld of such a placid      |
|evening, somehow to Ahab conveyed a     |
|wondrousness unknown before. "He turns  |
|and turns him to it,--how slowly, but   |
|how steadfastly, his homage-rendering   |
|and invoking brow, with his last dying  |
|motions. He too worships fire; most     |
|faithful, broad, baronial vassal of the |
|sun!--Oh that these too-favouring eyes  |
|should see these too-favouring sights.  |
|Look! here, far water-locked; beyond    |
|all hum of human weal or woe; in these  |
|most candid and impartial seas; where   |
|to traditions no rocks furnish tablets; |
|where for long Chinese ages, the billows|
|have still rolled on speechless and     |
|unspoken to, as stars that shine upon   |
|the Niger's unknown source; here, too,  |
|life dies sunwards full of faith; but   |
|see! no sooner dead, than death whirls  |
|round the corpse, and it heads some     |
|other way. "Oh, thou dark Hindoo half   |
|of nature, who of drowned bones hast    |
|builded thy separate throne somewhere   |
|in the heart of these unverdured seas;  |
|thou art an infidel, thou queen,        |
|and too truly speakest to me in the     |
|wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the      |
|hushed burial of its after calm. Nor has|
|this thy whale sunwards turned his dying|
|head, and then gone round again, without|
|a lesson to me. "Oh, trebly hooped and  |
|welded hip of power! Oh, high aspiring, |
|rainbowed jet!--that one strivest, this |
|one jettest all in vain! In vain, oh    |
|whale, dost thou seek intercedings with |
|yon all-quickening sun, that only calls |
|forth life, but gives it not again. Yet |
|dost thou, darker half, rock me with    |
|a prouder, if a darker faith. All thy   |
|unnamable imminglings float beneath me  |
|here; I am buoyed by breaths of once    |
|living things, exhaled as air, but water|
|now. "Then hail, for ever hail, O sea,  |
|in whose eternal tossings the wild fowl |
|finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet |
|suckled by the sea; though hill and     |
|valley mothered me, ye billows are my   |
|foster-brothers!" The four whales slain |
|that evening had died wide apart; one,  |
|far to windward; one, less distant, to  |
|leeward; one ahead; one astern. These   |
|last three were brought alongside ere   |
|nightfall; but the windward one could   |
|not be reached till morning; and the    |
|boat that had killed it lay by its side |
|all night; and that boat was Ahab's.    |
|The waif-pole was thrust upright into   |
|the dead whale's spout-hole; and the    |
|lantern hanging from its top, cast a    |
|troubled flickering glare upon the      |
|black, glossy back, and far out upon    |
|the midnight waves, which gently chafed |
|the whale's broad flank, like soft surf |
|upon a beach. Ahab and all his boat's   |
|crew seemed asleep but the Parsee; who  |
|crouching in the bow, sat watching the  |
|sharks, that spectrally played round the|
|whale, and tapped the light cedar planks|
|with their tails. A sound like the      |
|moaning in squadrons over Asphaltites   |
|of unforgiven ghosts of Gomorrah, ran   |
|shuddering through the air. Started     |
|from his slumbers, Ahab, face to face,  |
|saw the Parsee; and hooped round by the |
|gloom of the night they seemed the last |
|men in a flooded world. "I have dreamed |
|it again," said he. "Of the hearses?    |
|Have I not said, old man, that neither  |
|hearse nor coffin can be thine?" "And   |
|who are hearsed that die on the sea?"   |
|"But I said, old man, that ere thou     |
|couldst die on this voyage, two hearses |
|must verily be seen by thee on the sea; |
|the first not made by mortal hands; and |
|the visible wood of the last one must be|
|grown in America." "Aye, aye! a strange |
|sight that, Parsee:--a hearse and its   |
|plumes floating over the ocean with the |
|waves for the pall-bearers. Ha! Such a  |
|sight we shall not soon see." "Believe  |
|it or not, thou canst not die till it   |
|be seen, old man." "And what was that   |
|saying about thyself?" "Though it come  |
|to the last, I shall still go before    |
|thee thy pilot." "And when thou art so  |
|gone before--if that ever befall--then  |
|ere I can follow, thou must still       |
|appear to me, to pilot me still?--Was   |
|it not so? Well, then, did I believe    |
|all ye say, oh my pilot! I have here    |
|two pledges that I shall yet slay Moby  |
|Dick and survive it." "Take another     |
|pledge, old man," said the Parsee, as   |
|his eyes lighted up like fire-flies in  |
|the gloom--"Hemp only can kill thee."   |
|"The gallows, ye mean.--I am immortal   |
|then, on land and on sea," cried Ahab,  |
|with a laugh of derision;--"Immortal    |
|on land and on sea!" Both were silent   |
|again, as one man. The grey dawn came   |
|on, and the slumbering crew arose from  |
|the boat's bottom, and ere noon the     |
|dead whale was brought to the ship. The |
|season for the Line at length drew near;|
|and every day when Ahab, coming from his|
|cabin, cast his eyes aloft, the vigilant|
|helmsman would ostentatiously handle his|
|spokes, and the eager mariners quickly  |
|run to the braces, and would stand there|
|with all their eyes centrally fixed on  |
|the nailed doubloon; impatient for the  |
|order to point the ship's prow for the  |
|equator. In good time the order came.   |
|It was hard upon high noon; and Ahab,   |
|seated in the bows of his high-hoisted  |
|boat, was about taking his wonted daily |
|observation of the sun to determine his |
|latitude. Now, in that Japanese sea,    |
|the days in summer are as freshets of   |
|effulgences. That unblinkingly vivid    |
|Japanese sun seems the blazing focus    |
|of the glassy ocean's immeasurable      |
|burning-glass. The sky looks lacquered; |
|clouds there are none; the horizon      |
|floats; and this nakedness of unrelieved|
|radiance is as the insufferable         |
|splendors of God's throne. Well that    |
|Ahab's quadrant was furnished with      |
|coloured glasses, through which to take |
|sight of that solar fire. So, swinging  |
|his seated form to the roll of the      |
|ship, and with his astrological-looking |
|instrument placed to his eye, he        |
|remained in that posture for some       |
|moments to catch the precise instant    |
|when the sun should gain its precise    |
|meridian. Meantime while his whole      |
|attention was absorbed, the Parsee was  |
|kneeling beneath him on the ship's deck,|
|and with face thrown up like Ahab's,    |
|was eyeing the same sun with him; only  |
|the lids of his eyes half hooded their  |
|orbs, and his wild face was subdued to  |
|an earthly passionlessness. At length   |
|the desired observation was taken; and  |
|with his pencil upon his ivory leg,     |
|Ahab soon calculated what his latitude  |
|must be at that precise instant. Then   |
|falling into a moment's revery, he again|
|looked up towards the sun and murmured  |
|to himself: "Thou sea-mark! thou high   |
|and mighty Pilot! thou tellest me truly |
|where I AM--but canst thou cast the     |
|least hint where I SHALL be? Or canst   |
|thou tell where some other thing besides|
|me is this moment living? Where is Moby |
|Dick? This instant thou must be eyeing  |
|him. These eyes of mine look into the   |
|very eye that is even now beholding     |
|him; aye, and into the eye that is      |
|even now equally beholding the objects  |
|on the unknown, thither side of thee,   |
|thou sun!" Then gazing at his quadrant, |
|and handling, one after the other, its  |
|numerous cabalistical contrivances, he  |
|pondered again, and muttered: "Foolish  |
|toy! babies' plaything of haughty       |
|Admirals, and Commodores, and Captains; |
|the world brags of thee, of thy cunning |
|and might; but what after all canst thou|
|do, but tell the poor, pitiful point,   |
|where thou thyself happenest to be on   |
|this wide planet, and the hand that     |
|holds thee: no! not one jot more! Thou  |
|canst not tell where one drop of water  |
|or one grain of sand will be to-morrow  |
|noon; and yet with thy impotence thou   |
|insultest the sun! Science! Curse thee, |
|thou vain toy; and cursed be all the    |
|things that cast man's eyes aloft to    |
|that heaven, whose live vividness but   |
|scorches him, as these old eyes are even|
|now scorched with thy light, O sun!     |
|Level by nature to this earth's horizon |
|are the glances of man's eyes; not shot |
|from the crown of his head, as if God   |
|had meant him to gaze on his firmament. |
|Curse thee, thou quadrant!" dashing it  |
|to the deck, "no longer will I guide my |
|earthly way by thee; the level ship's   |
|compass, and the level deadreckoning,   |
|by log and by line; THESE shall conduct |
|me, and show me my place on the sea.    |
|Aye," lighting from the boat to the     |
|deck, "thus I trample on thee, thou     |
|paltry thing that feebly pointest on    |
|high; thus I split and destroy thee!" As|
|the frantic old man thus spoke and thus |
|trampled with his live and dead feet,   |
|a sneering triumph that seemed meant    |
|for Ahab, and a fatalistic despair that |
|seemed meant for himself--these passed  |
|over the mute, motionless Parsee's face.|
|Unobserved he rose and glided away;     |
|while, awestruck by the aspect of their |
|commander, the seamen clustered together|
|on the forecastle, till Ahab, troubledly|
|pacing the deck, shouted out--"To the   |
|braces! Up helm!--square in!" In an     |
|instant the yards swung round; and as   |
|the ship half-wheeled upon her heel, her|
|three firm-seated graceful masts erectly|
|poised upon her long, ribbed hull,      |
|seemed as the three Horatii pirouetting |
|on one sufficient steed. Standing       |
|between the knight-heads, Starbuck      |
|watched the Pequod's tumultuous way,    |
|and Ahab's also, as he went lurching    |
|along the deck. "I have sat before the  |
|dense coal fire and watched it all      |
|aglow, full of its tormented flaming    |
|life; and I have seen it wane at last,  |
|down, down, to dumbest dust. Old man    |
|of oceans! of all this fiery life of    |
|thine, what will at length remain but   |
|one little heap of ashes!" "Aye," cried |
|Stubb, "but sea-coal ashes--mind ye     |
|that, Mr. Starbuck--sea-coal, not your  |
|common charcoal. Well, well; I heard    |
|Ahab mutter, 'Here some one thrusts     |
|these cards into these old hands of     |
|mine; swears that I must play them, and |
|no others.' And damn me, Ahab, but thou |
|actest right; live in the game, and die |
|in it!" Warmest climes but nurse the    |
|cruellest fangs: the tiger of Bengal    |
|crouches in spiced groves of ceaseless  |
|verdure. Skies the most effulgent but   |
|basket the deadliest thunders: gorgeous |
|Cuba knows tornadoes that never swept   |
|tame northern lands. So, too, it is,    |
|that in these resplendent Japanese seas |
|the mariner encounters the direst of all|
|storms, the Typhoon. It will sometimes  |
|burst from out that cloudless sky, like |
|an exploding bomb upon a dazed and      |
|sleepy town. Towards evening of that    |
|day, the Pequod was torn of her canvas, |
|and bare-poled was left to fight a      |
|Typhoon which had struck her directly   |
|ahead. When darkness came on, sky and   |
|sea roared and split with the thunder,  |
|and blazed with the lightning, that     |
|showed the disabled masts fluttering    |
|here and there with the rags which the  |
|first fury of the tempest had left      |
|for its after sport. Holding by a       |
|shroud, Starbuck was standing on the    |
|quarter-deck; at every flash of the     |
|lightning glancing aloft, to see what   |
|additional disaster might have befallen |
|the intricate hamper there; while Stubb |
|and Flask were directing the men in the |
|higher hoisting and firmer lashing of   |
|the boats. But all their pains seemed   |
|naught. Though lifted to the very top   |
|of the cranes, the windward quarter     |
|boat (Ahab's) did not escape. A great   |
|rolling sea, dashing high up against    |
|the reeling ship's high teetering side, |
|stove in the boat's bottom at the stern,|
|and left it again, all dripping through |
|like a sieve. "Bad work, bad work! Mr.  |
|Starbuck," said Stubb, regarding the    |
|wreck, "but the sea will have its way.  |
|Stubb, for one, can't fight it. You see,|
|Mr. Starbuck, a wave has such a great   |
|long start before it leaps, all round   |
|the world it runs, and then comes the   |
|spring! But as for me, all the start    |
|I have to meet it, is just across the   |
|deck here. But never mind; it's all in  |
|fun: so the old song says;"--(SINGS.)   |
|Oh! jolly is the gale, And a joker is   |
|the whale, A' flourishin' his tail,--   |
|Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky,|
|hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh! The    |
|scud all a flyin', That's his flip only |
|foamin'; When he stirs in the spicin',--|
|Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky,|
|hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh! Thunder|
|splits the ships, But he only smacks his|
|lips, A tastin' of this flip,-- Such    |
|a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky,     |
|hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh! "Avast |
|Stubb," cried Starbuck, "let the Typhoon|
|sing, and strike his harp here in our   |
|rigging; but if thou art a brave man    |
|thou wilt hold thy peace." "But I am not|
|a brave man; never said I was a brave   |
|man; I am a coward; and I sing to keep  |
|up my spirits. And I tell you what it   |
|is, Mr. Starbuck, there's no way to stop|
|my singing in this world but to cut my  |
|throat. And when that's done, ten to one|
|I sing ye the doxology for a wind-up."  |
|"Madman! look through my eyes if thou   |
|hast none of thine own." "What! how can |
|you see better of a dark night than     |
|anybody else, never mind how foolish?"  |
|"Here!" cried Starbuck, seizing Stubb   |
|by the shoulder, and pointing his hand  |
|towards the weather bow, "markest       |
|thou not that the gale comes from the   |
|eastward, the very course Ahab is to    |
|run for Moby Dick? the very course he   |
|swung to this day noon? now mark his    |
|boat there; where is that stove? In the |
|stern-sheets, man; where he is wont to  |
|stand--his stand-point is stove, man!   |
|Now jump overboard, and sing away, if   |
|thou must! "I don't half understand ye: |
|what's in the wind?" "Yes, yes, round   |
|the Cape of Good Hope is the shortest   |
|way to Nantucket," soliloquized Starbuck|
|suddenly, heedless of Stubb's question. |
|"The gale that now hammers at us to     |
|stave us, we can turn it into a fair    |
|wind that will drive us towards home.   |
|Yonder, to windward, all is blackness   |
|of doom; but to leeward, homeward--I    |
|see it lightens up there; but not with  |
|the lightning." At that moment in one   |
|of the intervals of profound darkness,  |
|following the flashes, a voice was      |
|heard at his side; and almost at the    |
|same instant a volley of thunder peals  |
|rolled overhead. "Who's there?" "Old    |
|Thunder!" said Ahab, groping his way    |
|along the bulwarks to his pivot-hole;   |
|but suddenly finding his path made plain|
|to him by elbowed lances of fire. Now,  |
|as the lightning rod to a spire on shore|
|is intended to carry off the perilous   |
|fluid into the soil; so the kindred rod |
|which at sea some ships carry to each   |
|mast, is intended to conduct it into    |
|the water. But as this conductor must   |
|descend to considerable depth, that its |
|end may avoid all contact with the hull;|
|and as moreover, if kept constantly     |
|towing there, it would be liable to     |
|many mishaps, besides interfering not   |
|a little with some of the rigging, and  |
|more or less impeding the vessel's way  |
|in the water; because of all this, the  |
|lower parts of a ship's lightning-rods  |
|are not always overboard; but are       |
|generally made in long slender links,   |
|so as to be the more readily hauled up  |
|into the chains outside, or thrown down |
|into the sea, as occasion may require.  |
|"The rods! the rods!" cried Starbuck    |
|to the crew, suddenly admonished to     |
|vigilance by the vivid lightning that   |
|had just been darting flambeaux, to     |
|light Ahab to his post. "Are they       |
|overboard? drop them over, fore and aft.|
|Quick!" "Avast!" cried Ahab; "let's     |
|have fair play here, though we be the   |
|weaker side. Yet I'll contribute to     |
|raise rods on the Himmalehs and Andes,  |
|that all the world may be secured; but  |
|out on privileges! Let them be, sir."   |
|"Look aloft!" cried Starbuck. "The      |
|corpusants! the corpusants! All the     |
|yard-arms were tipped with a pallid     |
|fire; and touched at each tri-pointed   |
|lightning-rod-end with three tapering   |
|white flames, each of the three tall    |
|masts was silently burning in that      |
|sulphurous air, like three gigantic     |
|wax tapers before an altar. "Blast the  |
|boat! let it go!" cried Stubb at this   |
|instant, as a swashing sea heaved up    |
|under his own little craft, so that     |
|its gunwale violently jammed his hand,  |
|as he was passing a lashing. "Blast     |
|it!"--but slipping backward on the deck,|
|his uplifted eyes caught the flames;    |
|and immediately shifting his tone he    |
|cried--"The corpusants have mercy on us |
|all!" To sailors, oaths are household   |
|words; they will swear in the trance    |
|of the calm, and in the teeth of the    |
|tempest; they will imprecate curses from|
|the topsail-yard-arms, when most they   |
|teeter over to a seething sea; but in   |
|all my voyagings, seldom have I heard a |
|common oath when God's burning finger   |
|has been laid on the ship; when His     |
|"Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin" has been   |
|woven into the shrouds and the cordage. |
|While this pallidness was burning aloft,|
|few words were heard from the enchanted |
|crew; who in one thick cluster stood    |
|on the forecastle, all their eyes       |
|gleaming in that pale phosphorescence,  |
|like a far away constellation of stars. |
|Relieved against the ghostly light, the |
|gigantic jet negro, Daggoo, loomed up   |
|to thrice his real stature, and seemed  |
|the black cloud from which the thunder  |
|had come. The parted mouth of Tashtego  |
|revealed his shark-white teeth, which   |
|strangely gleamed as if they too had    |
|been tipped by corpusants; while lit up |
|by the preternatural light, Queequeg's  |
|tattooing burned like Satanic blue      |
|flames on his body. The tableau all     |
|waned at last with the pallidness       |
|aloft; and once more the Pequod and     |
|every soul on her decks were wrapped in |
|a pall. A moment or two passed, when    |
|Starbuck, going forward, pushed against |
|some one. It was Stubb. "What thinkest  |
|thou now, man; I heard thy cry; it was  |
|not the same in the song." "No, no,     |
|it wasn't; I said the corpusants have   |
|mercy on us all; and I hope they will,  |
|still. But do they only have mercy on   |
|long faces?--have they no bowels for a  |
|laugh? And look ye, Mr. Starbuck--but   |
|it's too dark to look. Hear me, then:   |
|I take that mast-head flame we saw for  |
|a sign of good luck; for those masts    |
|are rooted in a hold that is going to   |
|be chock a' block with sperm-oil, d'ye  |
|see; and so, all that sperm will work   |
|up into the masts, like sap in a tree.  |
|Yes, our three masts will yet be as     |
|three spermaceti candles--that's the    |
|good promise we saw." At that moment    |
|Starbuck caught sight of Stubb's face   |
|slowly beginning to glimmer into sight. |
|Glancing upwards, he cried: "See!       |
|see!" and once more the high tapering   |
|flames were beheld with what seemed     |
|redoubled supernaturalness in their     |
|pallor. "The corpusants have mercy on   |
|us all," cried Stubb, again. At the     |
|base of the mainmast, full beneath the  |
|doubloon and the flame, the Parsee was  |
|kneeling in Ahab's front, but with his  |
|head bowed away from him; while near    |
|by, from the arched and overhanging     |
|rigging, where they had just been       |
|engaged securing a spar, a number of    |
|the seamen, arrested by the glare, now  |
|cohered together, and hung pendulous,   |
|like a knot of numbed wasps from a      |
|drooping, orchard twig. In various      |
|enchanted attitudes, like the standing, |
|or stepping, or running skeletons in    |
|Herculaneum, others remained rooted to  |
|the deck; but all their eyes upcast.    |
|"Aye, aye, men!" cried Ahab. "Look up   |
|at it; mark it well; the white flame    |
|but lights the way to the White Whale!  |
|Hand me those mainmast links there; I   |
|would fain feel this pulse, and let     |
|mine beat against it; blood against     |
|fire! So." Then turning--the last link  |
|held fast in his left hand, he put      |
|his foot upon the Parsee; and with      |
|fixed upward eye, and high-flung right  |
|arm, he stood erect before the lofty    |
|tri-pointed trinity of flames. "Oh!     |
|thou clear spirit of clear fire, whom   |
|on these seas I as Persian once did     |
|worship, till in the sacramental act    |
|so burned by thee, that to this hour I  |
|bear the scar; I now know thee, thou    |
|clear spirit, and I now know that thy   |
|right worship is defiance. To neither   |
|love nor reverence wilt thou be kind;   |
|and e'en for hate thou canst but kill;  |
|and all are killed. No fearless fool    |
|now fronts thee. I own thy speechless,  |
|placeless power; but to the last gasp   |
|of my earthquake life will dispute its  |
|unconditional, unintegral mastery in    |
|me. In the midst of the personified     |
|impersonal, a personality stands here.  |
|Though but a point at best; whencesoe'er|
|I came; wheresoe'er I go; yet while I   |
|earthly live, the queenly personality   |
|lives in me, and feels her royal rights.|
|But war is pain, and hate is woe. Come  |
|in thy lowest form of love, and I will  |
|kneel and kiss thee; but at thy highest,|
|come as mere supernal power; and though |
|thou launchest navies of full-freighted |
|worlds, there's that in here that still |
|remains indifferent. Oh, thou clear     |
|spirit, of thy fire thou madest me, and |
|like a true child of fire, I breathe    |
|it back to thee." [SUDDEN, REPEATED     |
|FLASHES OF LIGHTNING; THE NINE FLAMES   |
|LEAP LENGTHWISE TO THRICE THEIR PREVIOUS|
|HEIGHT; AHAB, WITH THE REST, CLOSES HIS |
|EYES, HIS RIGHT HAND PRESSED HARD UPON  |
|THEM.] "I own thy speechless, placeless |
|power; said I not so? Nor was it wrung  |
|from me; nor do I now drop these links. |
|Thou canst blind; but I can then grope. |
|Thou canst consume; but I can then be   |
|ashes. Take the homage of these poor    |
|eyes, and shutter-hands. I would not    |
|take it. The lightning flashes through  |
|my skull; mine eye-balls ache and       |
|ache; my whole beaten brain seems as    |
|beheaded, and rolling on some stunning  |
|ground. Oh, oh! Yet blindfold, yet will |
|I talk to thee. Light though thou be,   |
|thou leapest out of darkness; but I am  |
|darkness leaping out of light, leaping  |
|out of thee! The javelins cease; open   |
|eyes; see, or not? There burn the       |
|flames! Oh, thou magnanimous! now I do  |
|glory in my genealogy. But thou art     |
|but my fiery father; my sweet mother,   |
|I know not. Oh, cruel! what hast thou   |
|done with her? There lies my puzzle;    |
|but thine is greater. Thou knowest not  |
|how came ye, hence callest thyself      |
|unbegotten; certainly knowest not       |
|thy beginning, hence callest thyself    |
|unbegun. I know that of me, which       |
|thou knowest not of thyself, oh, thou   |
|omnipotent. There is some unsuffusing   |
|thing beyond thee, thou clear spirit,   |
|to whom all thy eternity is but time,   |
|all thy creativeness mechanical. Through|
|thee, thy flaming self, my scorched eyes|
|do dimly see it. Oh, thou foundling     |
|fire, thou hermit immemorial, thou too  |
|hast thy incommunicable riddle, thy     |
|unparticipated grief. Here again with   |
|haughty agony, I read my sire. Leap!    |
|leap up, and lick the sky! I leap with  |
|thee; I burn with thee; would fain be   |
|welded with thee; defyingly I worship   |
|thee!" "The boat! the boat!" cried      |
|Starbuck, "look at thy boat, old man!"  |
|Ahab's harpoon, the one forged at       |
|Perth's fire, remained firmly lashed    |
|in its conspicuous crotch, so that it   |
|projected beyond his whale-boat's bow;  |
|but the sea that had stove its bottom   |
|had caused the loose leather sheath     |
|to drop off; and from the keen steel    |
|barb there now came a levelled flame    |
|of pale, forked fire. As the silent     |
|harpoon burned there like a serpent's   |
|tongue, Starbuck grasped Ahab by the    |
|arm--"God, God is against thee, old man;|
|forbear! 'tis an ill voyage! ill begun, |
|ill continued; let me square the yards, |
|while we may, old man, and make a fair  |
|wind of it homewards, to go on a better |
|voyage than this." Overhearing Starbuck,|
|the panic-stricken crew instantly ran to|
|the braces--though not a sail was left  |
|aloft. For the moment all the aghast    |
|mate's thoughts seemed theirs; they     |
|raised a half mutinous cry. But dashing |
|the rattling lightning links to the     |
|deck, and snatching the burning harpoon,|
|Ahab waved it like a torch among them;  |
|swearing to transfix with it the first  |
|sailor that but cast loose a rope's end.|
|Petrified by his aspect, and still more |
|shrinking from the fiery dart that he   |
|held, the men fell back in dismay, and  |
|Ahab again spoke:-- "All your oaths to  |
|hunt the White Whale are as binding as  |
|mine; and heart, soul, and body, lungs  |
|and life, old Ahab is bound. And that   |
|ye may know to what tune this heart     |
|beats; look ye here; thus I blow out the|
|last fear!" And with one blast of his   |
|breath he extinguished the flame. As in |
|the hurricane that sweeps the plain,    |
|men fly the neighborhood of some lone,  |
|gigantic elm, whose very height and     |
|strength but render it so much the more |
|unsafe, because so much the more a mark |
|for thunderbolts; so at those last words|
|of Ahab's many of the mariners did run  |
|from him in a terror of dismay. We must |
|send down the main-top-sail yard, sir.  |
|The band is working loose and the lee   |
|lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike   |
|it, sir?" "Strike nothing; lash it. If  |
|I had sky-sail poles, I'd sway them     |
|up now." "Sir!--in God's name!--sir?"   |
|"Well." "The anchors are working, sir.  |
|Shall I get them inboard?" "Strike      |
|nothing, and stir nothing, but lash     |
|everything. The wind rises, but it has  |
|not got up to my table-lands yet. Quick,|
|and see to it.--By masts and keels! he  |
|takes me for the hunch-backed skipper   |
|of some coasting smack. Send down my    |
|main-top-sail yard! Ho, gluepots!       |
|Loftiest trucks were made for wildest   |
|winds, and this brain-truck of mine     |
|now sails amid the cloud-scud. Shall I  |
|strike that? Oh, none but cowards send  |
|down their brain-trucks in tempest time.|
|What a hooroosh aloft there! I would    |
|e'en take it for sublime, did I not     |
|know that the colic is a noisy malady.  |
|Oh, take medicine, take medicine!" No,  |
|Stubb; you may pound that knot there as |
|much as you please, but you will never  |
|pound into me what you were just now    |
|saying. And how long ago is it since    |
|you said the very contrary? Didn't you  |
|once say that whatever ship Ahab sails  |
|in, that ship should pay something extra|
|on its insurance policy, just as though |
|it were loaded with powder barrels aft  |
|and boxes of lucifers forward? Stop,    |
|now; didn't you say so?" "Well, suppose |
|I did? What then? I've part changed my  |
|flesh since that time, why not my mind? |
|Besides, supposing we ARE loaded with   |
|powder barrels aft and lucifers forward;|
|how the devil could the lucifers get    |
|afire in this drenching spray here?     |
|Why, my little man, you have pretty     |
|red hair, but you couldn't get afire    |
|now. Shake yourself; you're Aquarius,   |
|or the water-bearer, Flask; might fill  |
|pitchers at your coat collar. Don't you |
|see, then, that for these extra risks   |
|the Marine Insurance companies have     |
|extra guarantees? Here are hydrants,    |
|Flask. But hark, again, and I'll answer |
|ye the other thing. First take your leg |
|off from the crown of the anchor here,  |
|though, so I can pass the rope; now     |
|listen. What's the mighty difference    |
|between holding a mast's lightning-rod  |
|in the storm, and standing close by a   |
|mast that hasn't got any lightning-rod  |
|at all in a storm? Don't you see, you   |
|timber-head, that no harm can come to   |
|the holder of the rod, unless the mast  |
|is first struck? What are you talking   |
|about, then? Not one ship in a hundred  |
|carries rods, and Ahab,--aye, man, and  |
|all of us,--were in no more danger then,|
|in my poor opinion, than all the crews  |
|in ten thousand ships now sailing the   |
|seas. Why, you King-Post, you, I suppose|
|you would have every man in the world   |
|go about with a small lightning-rod     |
|running up the corner of his hat, like  |
|a militia officer's skewered feather,   |
|and trailing behind like his sash. Why  |
|don't ye be sensible, Flask? it's easy  |
|to be sensible; why don't ye, then? any |
|man with half an eye can be sensible."  |
|"I don't know that, Stubb. You sometimes|
|find it rather hard." "Yes, when a      |
|fellow's soaked through, it's hard to   |
|be sensible, that's a fact. And I am    |
|about drenched with this spray. Never   |
|mind; catch the turn there, and pass    |
|it. Seems to me we are lashing down     |
|these anchors now as if they were never |
|going to be used again. Tying these two |
|anchors here, Flask, seems like tying   |
|a man's hands behind him. And what big  |
|generous hands they are, to be sure.    |
|These are your iron fists, hey? What a  |
|hold they have, too! I wonder, Flask,   |
|whether the world is anchored anywhere; |
|if she is, she swings with an uncommon  |
|long cable, though. There, hammer that  |
|knot down, and we've done. So; next to  |
|touching land, lighting on deck is the  |
|most satisfactory. I say, just wring    |
|out my jacket skirts, will ye? Thank    |
|ye. They laugh at long-togs so, Flask;  |
|but seems to me, a Long tailed coat     |
|ought always to be worn in all storms   |
|afloat. The tails tapering down that    |
|way, serve to carry off the water, d'ye |
|see. Same with cocked hats; the cocks   |
|form gable-end eave-troughs, Flask. No  |
|more monkey-jackets and tarpaulins for  |
|me; I must mount a swallow-tail, and    |
|drive down a beaver; so. Halloa! whew!  |
|there goes my tarpaulin overboard; Lord,|
|Lord, that the winds that come from     |
|heaven should be so unmannerly! This is |
|a nasty night, lad." "Um, um, um. Stop  |
|that thunder! Plenty too much thunder   |
|up here. What's the use of thunder?     |
|Um, um, um. We don't want thunder;      |
|we want rum; give us a glass of rum.    |
|Um, um, um!" During the most violent    |
|shocks of the Typhoon, the man at the   |
|Pequod's jaw-bone tiller had several    |
|times been reelingly hurled to the deck |
|by its spasmodic motions, even though   |
|preventer tackles had been attached to  |
|it--for they were slack--because some   |
|play to the tiller was indispensable.   |
|In a severe gale like this, while the   |
|ship is but a tossed shuttlecock to     |
|the blast, it is by no means uncommon   |
|to see the needles in the compasses,    |
|at intervals, go round and round. It    |
|was thus with the Pequod's; at almost   |
|every shock the helmsman had not failed |
|to notice the whirling velocity with    |
|which they revolved upon the cards;     |
|it is a sight that hardly anyone can    |
|behold without some sort of unwonted    |
|emotion. Some hours after midnight, the |
|Typhoon abated so much, that through    |
|the strenuous exertions of Starbuck     |
|and Stubb--one engaged forward and the  |
|other aft--the shivered remnants of     |
|the jib and fore and main-top-sails     |
|were cut adrift from the spars, and     |
|went eddying away to leeward, like      |
|the feathers of an albatross, which     |
|sometimes are cast to the winds when    |
|that storm-tossed bird is on the wing.  |
|The three corresponding new sails were  |
|now bent and reefed, and a storm-trysail|
|was set further aft; so that the ship   |
|soon went through the water with some   |
|precision again; and the course--for    |
|the present, East-south-east--which he  |
|was to steer, if practicable, was once  |
|more given to the helmsman. For during  |
|the violence of the gale, he had only   |
|steered according to its vicissitudes.  |
|But as he was now bringing the ship as  |
|near her course as possible, watching   |
|the compass meanwhile, lo! a good       |
|sign! the wind seemed coming round      |
|astern; aye, the foul breeze became     |
|fair! Instantly the yards were squared, |
|to the lively song of "HO! THE FAIR     |
|WIND! OH-YE-HO, CHEERLY MEN!" the crew  |
|singing for joy, that so promising an   |
|event should so soon have falsified     |
|the evil portents preceding it. In      |
|compliance with the standing order of   |
|his commander--to report immediately,   |
|and at any one of the twenty-four hours,|
|any decided change in the affairs of    |
|the deck,--Starbuck had no sooner       |
|trimmed the yards to the breeze--however|
|reluctantly and gloomily,--than he      |
|mechanically went below to apprise      |
|Captain Ahab of the circumstance.       |
|Ere knocking at his state-room, he      |
|involuntarily paused before it a moment.|
|The cabin lamp--taking long swings this |
|way and that--was burning fitfully, and |
|casting fitful shadows upon the old     |
|man's bolted door,--a thin one, with    |
|fixed blinds inserted, in place of upper|
|panels. The isolated subterraneousness  |
|of the cabin made a certain humming     |
|silence to reign there, though it was   |
|hooped round by all the roar of the     |
|elements. The loaded muskets in the rack|
|were shiningly revealed, as they stood  |
|upright against the forward bulkhead.   |
|Starbuck was an honest, upright man; but|
|out of Starbuck's heart, at that instant|
|when he saw the muskets, there strangely|
|evolved an evil thought; but so blent   |
|with its neutral or good accompaniments |
|that for the instant he hardly knew     |
|it for itself. "He would have shot me   |
|once," he murmured, "yes, there's the   |
|very musket that he pointed at me;--that|
|one with the studded stock; let me touch|
|it--lift it. Strange, that I, who have  |
|handled so many deadly lances, strange, |
|that I should shake so now. Loaded?     |
|I must see. Aye, aye; and powder in     |
|the pan;--that's not good. Best spill   |
|it?--wait. I'll cure myself of this.    |
|I'll hold the musket boldly while I     |
|think.--I come to report a fair wind to |
|him. But how fair? Fair for death and   |
|doom,--THAT'S fair for Moby Dick. It's  |
|a fair wind that's only fair for that   |
|accursed fish.--The very tube he pointed|
|at me!--the very one; THIS one--I hold  |
|it here; he would have killed me with   |
|the very thing I handle now.--Aye and he|
|would fain kill all his crew. Does he   |
|not say he will not strike his spars to |
|any gale? Has he not dashed his heavenly|
|quadrant? and in these same perilous    |
|seas, gropes he not his way by mere     |
|dead reckoning of the error-abounding   |
|log? and in this very Typhoon, did      |
|he not swear that he would have no      |
|lightning-rods? But shall this crazed   |
|old man be tamely suffered to drag a    |
|whole ship's company down to doom with  |
|him?--Yes, it would make him the wilful |
|murderer of thirty men and more, if this|
|ship come to any deadly harm; and come  |
|to deadly harm, my soul swears this ship|
|will, if Ahab have his way. If, then, he|
|were this instant--put aside, that crime|
|would not be his. Ha! is he muttering   |
|in his sleep? Yes, just there,--in      |
|there, he's sleeping. Sleeping? aye,    |
|but still alive, and soon awake again.  |
|I can't withstand thee, then, old man.  |
|Not reasoning; not remonstrance; not    |
|entreaty wilt thou hearken to; all this |
|thou scornest. Flat obedience to thy    |
|own flat commands, this is all thou     |
|breathest. Aye, and say'st the men have |
|vow'd thy vow; say'st all of us are     |
|Ahabs. Great God forbid!--But is there  |
|no other way? no lawful way?--Make him  |
|a prisoner to be taken home? What! hope |
|to wrest this old man's living power    |
|from his own living hands? Only a fool  |
|would try it. Say he were pinioned even;|
|knotted all over with ropes and hawsers;|
|chained down to ring-bolts on this cabin|
|floor; he would be more hideous than a  |
|caged tiger, then. I could not endure   |
|the sight; could not possibly fly his   |
|howlings; all comfort, sleep itself,    |
|inestimable reason would leave me on    |
|the long intolerable voyage. What,      |
|then, remains? The land is hundreds     |
|of leagues away, and locked Japan the   |
|nearest. I stand alone here upon an     |
|open sea, with two oceans and a whole   |
|continent between me and law.--Aye, aye,|
|'tis so.--Is heaven a murderer when its |
|lightning strikes a would-be murderer   |
|in his bed, tindering sheets and skin   |
|together?--And would I be a murderer,   |
|then, if"--and slowly, stealthily, and  |
|half sideways looking, he placed the    |
|loaded musket's end against the door.   |
|"On this level, Ahab's hammock swings   |
|within; his head this way. A touch, and |
|Starbuck may survive to hug his wife    |
|and child again.--Oh Mary! Mary!--boy!  |
|boy! boy!--But if I wake thee not to    |
|death, old man, who can tell to what    |
|unsounded deeps Starbuck's body this day|
|week may sink, with all the crew! Great |
|God, where art Thou? Shall I? shall     |
|I?--The wind has gone down and shifted, |
|sir; the fore and main topsails are     |
|reefed and set; she heads her course."  |
|"Stern all! Oh Moby Dick, I clutch thy  |
|heart at last!" Such were the sounds    |
|that now came hurtling from out the old |
|man's tormented sleep, as if Starbuck's |
|voice had caused the long dumb dream to |
|speak. The yet levelled musket shook    |
|like a drunkard's arm against the       |
|panel; Starbuck seemed wrestling with   |
|an angel; but turning from the door, he |
|placed the death-tube in its rack, and  |
|left the place. "He's too sound asleep, |
|Mr. Stubb; go thou down, and wake him,  |
|and tell him. I must see to the deck    |
|here. Thou know'st what to say." Next   |
|morning the not-yet-subsided sea rolled |
|in long slow billows of mighty bulk,    |
|and striving in the Pequod's gurgling   |
|track, pushed her on like giants' palms |
|outspread. The strong, unstaggering     |
|breeze abounded so, that sky and air    |
|seemed vast outbellying sails; the      |
|whole world boomed before the wind.     |
|Muffled in the full morning light, the  |
|invisible sun was only known by the     |
|spread intensity of his place; where    |
|his bayonet rays moved on in stacks.    |
|Emblazonings, as of crowned Babylonian  |
|kings and queens, reigned over          |
|everything. The sea was as a crucible   |
|of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps   |
|with light and heat. Long maintaining an|
|enchanted silence, Ahab stood apart; and|
|every time the tetering ship loweringly |
|pitched down her bowsprit, he turned    |
|to eye the bright sun's rays produced   |
|ahead; and when she profoundly settled  |
|by the stern, he turned behind, and     |
|saw the sun's rearward place, and how   |
|the same yellow rays were blending      |
|with his undeviating wake. "Ha, ha, my  |
|ship! thou mightest well be taken now   |
|for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! |
|all ye nations before my prow, I bring  |
|the sun to ye! Yoke on the further      |
|billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the   |
|sea!" But suddenly reined back by some  |
|counter thought, he hurried towards     |
|the helm, huskily demanding how the     |
|ship was heading. "East-sou-east, sir," |
|said the frightened steersman. "Thou    |
|liest!" smiting him with his clenched   |
|fist. "Heading East at this hour in     |
|the morning, and the sun astern?" Upon  |
|this every soul was confounded; for the |
|phenomenon just then observed by Ahab   |
|had unaccountably escaped every one     |
|else; but its very blinding palpableness|
|must have been the cause. Thrusting his |
|head half way into the binnacle, Ahab   |
|caught one glimpse of the compasses;    |
|his uplifted arm slowly fell; for a     |
|moment he almost seemed to stagger.     |
|Standing behind him Starbuck looked,    |
|and lo! the two compasses pointed East, |
|and the Pequod was as infallibly going  |
|West. But ere the first wild alarm could|
|get out abroad among the crew, the old  |
|man with a rigid laugh exclaimed, "I    |
|have it! It has happened before. Mr.    |
|Starbuck, last night's thunder turned   |
|our compasses--that's all. Thou hast    |
|before now heard of such a thing, I     |
|take it." "Aye; but never before has    |
|it happened to me, sir," said the pale  |
|mate, gloomily. Here, it must needs be  |
|said, that accidents like this have in  |
|more than one case occurred to ships in |
|violent storms. The magnetic energy, as |
|developed in the mariner's needle, is,  |
|as all know, essentially one with the   |
|electricity beheld in heaven; hence it  |
|is not to be much marvelled at, that    |
|such things should be. Instances where  |
|the lightning has actually struck the   |
|vessel, so as to smite down some of the |
|spars and rigging, the effect upon the  |
|needle has at times been still more     |
|fatal; all its loadstone virtue being   |
|annihilated, so that the before magnetic|
|steel was of no more use than an old    |
|wife's knitting needle. But in either   |
|case, the needle never again, of itself,|
|recovers the original virtue thus marred|
|or lost; and if the binnacle compasses  |
|be affected, the same fate reaches all  |
|the others that may be in the ship;     |
|even were the lowermost one inserted    |
|into the kelson. Deliberately standing  |
|before the binnacle, and eyeing the     |
|transpointed compasses, the old man,    |
|with the sharp of his extended hand, now|
|took the precise bearing of the sun, and|
|satisfied that the needles were exactly |
|inverted, shouted out his orders for the|
|ship's course to be changed accordingly.|
|The yards were hard up; and once more   |
|the Pequod thrust her undaunted bows    |
|into the opposing wind, for the supposed|
|fair one had only been juggling her.    |
|Meanwhile, whatever were his own secret |
|thoughts, Starbuck said nothing, but    |
|quietly he issued all requisite orders; |
|while Stubb and Flask--who in some      |
|small degree seemed then to be sharing  |
|his feelings--likewise unmurmuringly    |
|acquiesced. As for the men, though some |
|of them lowly rumbled, their fear of    |
|Ahab was greater than their fear of     |
|Fate. But as ever before, the pagan     |
|harpooneers remained almost wholly      |
|unimpressed; or if impressed, it was    |
|only with a certain magnetism shot into |
|their congenial hearts from inflexible  |
|Ahab's. For a space the old man walked  |
|the deck in rolling reveries. But       |
|chancing to slip with his ivory heel,   |
|he saw the crushed copper sight-tubes   |
|of the quadrant he had the day before   |
|dashed to the deck. "Thou poor, proud   |
|heaven-gazer and sun's pilot! yesterday |
|I wrecked thee, and to-day the compasses|
|would fain have wrecked me. So, so. But |
|Ahab is lord over the level loadstone   |
|yet. Mr. Starbuck--a lance without a    |
|pole; a top-maul, and the smallest      |
|of the sail-maker's needles. Quick!"    |
|Accessory, perhaps, to the impulse      |
|dictating the thing he was now about to |
|do, were certain prudential motives,    |
|whose object might have been to revive  |
|the spirits of his crew by a stroke     |
|of his subtile skill, in a matter       |
|so wondrous as that of the inverted     |
|compasses. Besides, the old man well    |
|knew that to steer by transpointed      |
|needles, though clumsily practicable,   |
|was not a thing to be passed over by    |
|superstitious sailors, without some     |
|shudderings and evil portents. "Men,"   |
|said he, steadily turning upon the crew,|
|as the mate handed him the things he had|
|demanded, "my men, the thunder turned   |
|old Ahab's needles; but out of this     |
|bit of steel Ahab can make one of his   |
|own, that will point as true as any."   |
|Abashed glances of servile wonder were  |
|exchanged by the sailors, as this was   |
|said; and with fascinated eyes they     |
|awaited whatever magic might follow. But|
|Starbuck looked away. With a blow from  |
|the top-maul Ahab knocked off the steel |
|head of the lance, and then handing to  |
|the mate the long iron rod remaining,   |
|bade him hold it upright, without its   |
|touching the deck. Then, with the maul, |
|after repeatedly smiting the upper end  |
|of this iron rod, he placed the blunted |
|needle endwise on the top of it, and    |
|less strongly hammered that, several    |
|times, the mate still holding the rod   |
|as before. Then going through some      |
|small strange motions with it--whether  |
|indispensable to the magnetizing of the |
|steel, or merely intended to augment    |
|the awe of the crew, is uncertain--he   |
|called for linen thread; and moving     |
|to the binnacle, slipped out the two    |
|reversed needles there, and horizontally|
|suspended the sail-needle by its middle,|
|over one of the compass-cards. At       |
|first, the steel went round and round,  |
|quivering and vibrating at either end;  |
|but at last it settled to its place,    |
|when Ahab, who had been intently        |
|watching for this result, stepped       |
|frankly back from the binnacle, and     |
|pointing his stretched arm towards it,  |
|exclaimed,--"Look ye, for yourselves, if|
|Ahab be not lord of the level loadstone!|
|The sun is East, and that compass swears|
|it!" One after another they peered in,  |
|for nothing but their own eyes could    |
|persuade such ignorance as theirs, and  |
|one after another they slunk away. In   |
|his fiery eyes of scorn and triumph, you|
|then saw Ahab in all his fatal pride.   |
|While now the fated Pequod had been so  |
|long afloat this voyage, the log and    |
|line had but very seldom been in use.   |
|Owing to a confident reliance upon other|
|means of determining the vessel's place,|
|some merchantmen, and many whalemen,    |
|especially when cruising, wholly neglect|
|to heave the log; though at the same    |
|time, and frequently more for form's    |
|sake than anything else, regularly      |
|putting down upon the customary slate   |
|the course steered by the ship, as      |
|well as the presumed average rate of    |
|progression every hour. It had been     |
|thus with the Pequod. The wooden reel   |
|and angular log attached hung, long     |
|untouched, just beneath the railing of  |
|the after bulwarks. Rains and spray had |
|damped it; sun and wind had warped it;  |
|all the elements had combined to rot a  |
|thing that hung so idly. But heedless   |
|of all this, his mood seized Ahab, as   |
|he happened to glance upon the reel,    |
|not many hours after the magnet scene,  |
|and he remembered how his quadrant      |
|was no more, and recalled his frantic   |
|oath about the level log and line. The  |
|ship was sailing plungingly; astern     |
|the billows rolled in riots. "Forward,  |
|there! Heave the log!" Two seamen came. |
|The golden-hued Tahitian and the grizzly|
|Manxman. "Take the reel, one of ye, I'll|
|heave." They went towards the extreme   |
|stern, on the ship's lee side, where    |
|the deck, with the oblique energy of    |
|the wind, was now almost dipping into   |
|the creamy, sidelong-rushing sea. The   |
|Manxman took the reel, and holding it   |
|high up, by the projecting handle-ends  |
|of the spindle, round which the spool   |
|of line revolved, so stood with the     |
|angular log hanging downwards, till Ahab|
|advanced to him. Ahab stood before him, |
|and was lightly unwinding some thirty   |
|or forty turns to form a preliminary    |
|hand-coil to toss overboard, when the   |
|old Manxman, who was intently eyeing    |
|both him and the line, made bold to     |
|speak. "Sir, I mistrust it; this line   |
|looks far gone, long heat and wet       |
|have spoiled it." "'Twill hold, old     |
|gentleman. Long heat and wet, have they |
|spoiled thee? Thou seem'st to hold. Or, |
|truer perhaps, life holds thee; not     |
|thou it." "I hold the spool, sir. But   |
|just as my captain says. With these     |
|grey hairs of mine 'tis not worth while |
|disputing, 'specially with a superior,  |
|who'll ne'er confess." "What's that?    |
|There now's a patched professor in Queen|
|Nature's granite-founded College; but   |
|methinks he's too subservient. Where    |
|wert thou born?" "In the little rocky   |
|Isle of Man, sir." "Excellent! Thou'st  |
|hit the world by that." "I know not,    |
|sir, but I was born there." "In the     |
|Isle of Man, hey? Well, the other way,  |
|it's good. Here's a man from Man; a man |
|born in once independent Man, and now   |
|unmanned of Man; which is sucked in--by |
|what? Up with the reel! The dead, blind |
|wall butts all inquiring heads at last. |
|Up with it! So." The log was heaved.    |
|The loose coils rapidly straightened    |
|out in a long dragging line astern,     |
|and then, instantly, the reel began to  |
|whirl. In turn, jerkingly raised and    |
|lowered by the rolling billows, the     |
|towing resistance of the log caused     |
|the old reelman to stagger strangely.   |
|"Hold hard!" Snap! the overstrained     |
|line sagged down in one long festoon;   |
|the tugging log was gone. "I crush the  |
|quadrant, the thunder turns the needles,|
|and now the mad sea parts the log-line. |
|But Ahab can mend all. Haul in here,    |
|Tahitian; reel up, Manxman. And look    |
|ye, let the carpenter make another log, |
|and mend thou the line. See to it."     |
|"There he goes now; to him nothing's    |
|happened; but to me, the skewer seems   |
|loosening out of the middle of the      |
|world. Haul in, haul in, Tahitian!      |
|These lines run whole, and whirling     |
|out: come in broken, and dragging slow. |
|Ha, Pip? come to help; eh, Pip?" "Pip?  |
|whom call ye Pip? Pip jumped from the   |
|whale-boat. Pip's missing. Let's see    |
|now if ye haven't fished him up here,   |
|fisherman. It drags hard; I guess he's  |
|holding on. Jerk him, Tahiti! Jerk him  |
|off; we haul in no cowards here. Ho!    |
|there's his arm just breaking water.    |
|A hatchet! a hatchet! cut it off--we    |
|haul in no cowards here. Captain Ahab!  |
|sir, sir! here's Pip, trying to get on  |
|board again." "Peace, thou crazy loon," |
|cried the Manxman, seizing him by the   |
|arm. "Away from the quarter-deck!" "The |
|greater idiot ever scolds the lesser,"  |
|muttered Ahab, advancing. "Hands off    |
|from that holiness! Where sayest thou   |
|Pip was, boy? "Astern there, sir,       |
|astern! Lo! lo!" "And who art thou, boy?|
|I see not my reflection in the vacant   |
|pupils of thy eyes. Oh God! that man    |
|should be a thing for immortal souls    |
|to sieve through! Who art thou, boy?"   |
|"Bell-boy, sir; ship's-crier; ding,     |
|dong, ding! Pip! Pip! Pip! One hundred  |
|pounds of clay reward for Pip; five     |
|feet high--looks cowardly--quickest     |
|known by that! Ding, dong, ding! Who's  |
|seen Pip the coward?" "There can be     |
|no hearts above the snow-line. Oh, ye   |
|frozen heavens! look down here. Ye did  |
|beget this luckless child, and have     |
|abandoned him, ye creative libertines.  |
|Here, boy; Ahab's cabin shall be Pip's  |
|home henceforth, while Ahab lives.      |
|Thou touchest my inmost centre, boy;    |
|thou art tied to me by cords woven of   |
|my heart-strings. Come, let's down."    |
|"What's this? here's velvet shark-skin,"|
|intently gazing at Ahab's hand, and     |
|feeling it. "Ah, now, had poor Pip but  |
|felt so kind a thing as this, perhaps   |
|he had ne'er been lost! This seems to   |
|me, sir, as a man-rope; something that  |
|weak souls may hold by. Oh, sir, let    |
|old Perth now come and rivet these two  |
|hands together; the black one with the  |
|white, for I will not let this go." "Oh,|
|boy, nor will I thee, unless I should   |
|thereby drag thee to worse horrors than |
|are here. Come, then, to my cabin. Lo!  |
|ye believers in gods all goodness,      |
|and in man all ill, lo you! see the     |
|omniscient gods oblivious of suffering  |
|man; and man, though idiotic, and       |
|knowing not what he does, yet full of   |
|the sweet things of love and gratitude. |
|Come! I feel prouder leading thee by    |
|thy black hand, than though I grasped   |
|an Emperor's!" "There go two daft ones  |
|now," muttered the old Manxman. "One    |
|daft with strength, the other daft with |
|weakness. But here's the end of the     |
|rotten line--all dripping, too. Mend it,|
|eh? I think we had best have a new line |
|altogether. I'll see Mr. Stubb about    |
|it." Steering now south-eastward by     |
|Ahab's levelled steel, and her progress |
|solely determined by Ahab's level log   |
|and line; the Pequod held on her path   |
|towards the Equator. Making so long     |
|a passage through such unfrequented     |
|waters, descrying no ships, and ere     |
|long, sideways impelled by unvarying    |
|trade winds, over waves monotonously    |
|mild; all these seemed the strange      |
|calm things preluding some riotous and  |
|desperate scene. At last, when the ship |
|drew near to the outskirts, as it were, |
|of the Equatorial fishing-ground, and   |
|in the deep darkness that goes before   |
|the dawn, was sailing by a cluster of   |
|rocky islets; the watch--then headed    |
|by Flask--was startled by a cry so      |
|plaintively wild and unearthly--like    |
|half-articulated wailings of the ghosts |
|of all Herod's murdered Innocents--that |
|one and all, they started from their    |
|reveries, and for the space of some     |
|moments stood, or sat, or leaned all    |
|transfixedly listening, like the carved |
|Roman slave, while that wild cry        |
|remained within hearing. The Christian  |
|or civilized part of the crew said it   |
|was mermaids, and shuddered; but the    |
|pagan harpooneers remained unappalled.  |
|Yet the grey Manxman--the oldest mariner|
|of all--declared that the wild thrilling|
|sounds that were heard, were the voices |
|of newly drowned men in the sea. Below  |
|in his hammock, Ahab did not hear of    |
|this till grey dawn, when he came to    |
|the deck; it was then recounted to him  |
|by Flask, not unaccompanied with hinted |
|dark meanings. He hollowly laughed,     |
|and thus explained the wonder. Those    |
|rocky islands the ship had passed were  |
|the resort of great numbers of seals,   |
|and some young seals that had lost      |
|their dams, or some dams that had lost  |
|their cubs, must have risen nigh the    |
|ship and kept company with her, crying  |
|and sobbing with their human sort of    |
|wail. But this only the more affected   |
|some of them, because most mariners     |
|cherish a very superstitious feeling    |
|about seals, arising not only from      |
|their peculiar tones when in distress,  |
|but also from the human look of their   |
|round heads and semi-intelligent faces, |
|seen peeringly uprising from the water  |
|alongside. In the sea, under certain    |
|circumstances, seals have more than once|
|been mistaken for men. But the bodings  |
|of the crew were destined to receive a  |
|most plausible confirmation in the fate |
|of one of their number that morning.    |
|At sun-rise this man went from his      |
|hammock to his mast-head at the fore;   |
|and whether it was that he was not yet  |
|half waked from his sleep (for sailors  |
|sometimes go aloft in a transition      |
|state), whether it was thus with the    |
|man, there is now no telling; but, be   |
|that as it may, he had not been long    |
|at his perch, when a cry was heard--a   |
|cry and a rushing--and looking up, they |
|saw a falling phantom in the air; and   |
|looking down, a little tossed heap of   |
|white bubbles in the blue of the sea.   |
|The life-buoy--a long slender cask--was |
|dropped from the stern, where it always |
|hung obedient to a cunning spring; but  |
|no hand rose to seize it, and the sun   |
|having long beat upon this cask it had  |
|shrunken, so that it slowly filled, and |
|that parched wood also filled at its    |
|every pore; and the studded iron-bound  |
|cask followed the sailor to the bottom, |
|as if to yield him his pillow, though   |
|in sooth but a hard one. And thus the   |
|first man of the Pequod that mounted    |
|the mast to look out for the White      |
|Whale, on the White Whale's own peculiar|
|ground; that man was swallowed up in    |
|the deep. But few, perhaps, thought of  |
|that at the time. Indeed, in some sort, |
|they were not grieved at this event, at |
|least as a portent; for they regarded   |
|it, not as a foreshadowing of evil in   |
|the future, but as the fulfilment of an |
|evil already presaged. They declared    |
|that now they knew the reason of those  |
|wild shrieks they had heard the night   |
|before. But again the old Manxman said  |
|nay. The lost life-buoy was now to be   |
|replaced; Starbuck was directed to see  |
|to it; but as no cask of sufficient     |
|lightness could be found, and as in the |
|feverish eagerness of what seemed the   |
|approaching crisis of the voyage, all   |
|hands were impatient of any toil but    |
|what was directly connected with its    |
|final end, whatever that might prove    |
|to be; therefore, they were going to    |
|leave the ship's stern unprovided with  |
|a buoy, when by certain strange signs   |
|and inuendoes Queequeg hinted a hint    |
|concerning his coffin. "A life-buoy of  |
|a coffin!" cried Starbuck, starting.    |
|"Rather queer, that, I should say,"     |
|said Stubb. "It will make a good enough |
|one," said Flask, "the carpenter here   |
|can arrange it easily." "Bring it up;   |
|there's nothing else for it," said      |
|Starbuck, after a melancholy pause.     |
|"Rig it, carpenter; do not look at me   |
|so--the coffin, I mean. Dost thou hear  |
|me? Rig it." "And shall I nail down the |
|lid, sir?" moving his hand as with a    |
|hammer. "Aye." "And shall I caulk the   |
|seams, sir?" moving his hand as with a  |
|caulking-iron. "Aye." "And shall I then |
|pay over the same with pitch, sir?"     |
|moving his hand as with a pitch-pot.    |
|"Away! what possesses thee to this?     |
|Make a life-buoy of the coffin, and     |
|no more.--Mr. Stubb, Mr. Flask, come    |
|forward with me." "He goes off in a     |
|huff. The whole he can endure; at the   |
|parts he baulks. Now I don't like this. |
|I make a leg for Captain Ahab, and he   |
|wears it like a gentleman; but I make a |
|bandbox for Queequeg, and he won't put  |
|his head into it. Are all my pains to go|
|for nothing with that coffin? And now   |
|I'm ordered to make a life-buoy of it.  |
|It's like turning an old coat; going    |
|to bring the flesh on the other side    |
|now. I don't like this cobbling sort of |
|business--I don't like it at all; it's  |
|undignified; it's not my place. Let     |
|tinkers' brats do tinkerings; we are    |
|their betters. I like to take in hand   |
|none but clean, virgin, fair-and-square |
|mathematical jobs, something that       |
|regularly begins at the beginning, and  |
|is at the middle when midway, and comes |
|to an end at the conclusion; not a      |
|cobbler's job, that's at an end in the  |
|middle, and at the beginning at the end.|
|It's the old woman's tricks to be giving|
|cobbling jobs. Lord! what an affection  |
|all old women have for tinkers. I know  |
|an old woman of sixty-five who ran away |
|with a bald-headed young tinker once.   |
|And that's the reason I never would work|
|for lonely widow old women ashore, when |
|I kept my job-shop in the Vineyard;     |
|they might have taken it into their     |
|lonely old heads to run off with me. But|
|heigh-ho! there are no caps at sea but  |
|snow-caps. Let me see. Nail down the    |
|lid; caulk the seams; pay over the same |
|with pitch; batten them down tight, and |
|hang it with the snap-spring over the   |
|ship's stern. Were ever such things done|
|before with a coffin? Some superstitious|
|old carpenters, now, would be tied up   |
|in the rigging, ere they would do the   |
|job. But I'm made of knotty Aroostook   |
|hemlock; I don't budge. Cruppered       |
|with a coffin! Sailing about with a     |
|grave-yard tray! But never mind. We     |
|workers in woods make bridal-bedsteads  |
|and card-tables, as well as coffins and |
|hearses. We work by the month, or by the|
|job, or by the profit; not for us to    |
|ask the why and wherefore of our work,  |
|unless it be too confounded cobbling,   |
|and then we stash it if we can. Hem!    |
|I'll do the job, now, tenderly. I'll    |
|have me--let's see--how many in the     |
|ship's company, all told? But I've      |
|forgotten. Any way, I'll have me thirty |
|separate, Turk's-headed life-lines,     |
|each three feet long hanging all round  |
|to the coffin. Then, if the hull go     |
|down, there'll be thirty lively fellows |
|all fighting for one coffin, a sight    |
|not seen very often beneath the sun!    |
|Come hammer, caulking-iron, pitch-pot,  |
|and marling-spike! Let's to it." Back,  |
|lad; I will be with ye again presently. |
|He goes! Not this hand complies with    |
|my humor more genially than that        |
|boy.--Middle aisle of a church! What's  |
|here?" "Life-buoy, sir. Mr. Starbuck's  |
|orders. Oh, look, sir! Beware the       |
|hatchway!" "Thank ye, man. Thy coffin   |
|lies handy to the vault." "Sir? The     |
|hatchway? oh! So it does, sir, so it    |
|does." "Art not thou the leg-maker?     |
|Look, did not this stump come from thy  |
|shop?" "I believe it did, sir; does     |
|the ferrule stand, sir?" "Well enough.  |
|But art thou not also the undertaker?"  |
|"Aye, sir; I patched up this thing here |
|as a coffin for Queequeg; but they've   |
|set me now to turning it into something |
|else." "Then tell me; art thou not an   |
|arrant, all-grasping, intermeddling,    |
|monopolising, heathenish old scamp, to  |
|be one day making legs, and the next day|
|coffins to clap them in, and yet again  |
|life-buoys out of those same coffins?   |
|Thou art as unprincipled as the gods,   |
|and as much of a jack-of-all-trades."   |
|"But I do not mean anything, sir. I do  |
|as I do." "The gods again. Hark ye,     |
|dost thou not ever sing working about   |
|a coffin? The Titans, they say, hummed  |
|snatches when chipping out the craters  |
|for volcanoes; and the grave-digger in  |
|the play sings, spade in hand. Dost     |
|thou never?" "Sing, sir? Do I sing? Oh, |
|I'm indifferent enough, sir, for that;  |
|but the reason why the grave-digger     |
|made music must have been because there |
|was none in his spade, sir. But the     |
|caulking mallet is full of it. Hark to  |
|it." "Aye, and that's because the lid   |
|there's a sounding-board; and what in   |
|all things makes the sounding-board     |
|is this--there's naught beneath. And    |
|yet, a coffin with a body in it rings   |
|pretty much the same, Carpenter. Hast   |
|thou ever helped carry a bier, and      |
|heard the coffin knock against the      |
|churchyard gate, going in? "Faith,      |
|sir, I've--" "Faith? What's that?"      |
|"Why, faith, sir, it's only a sort of   |
|exclamation-like--that's all, sir."     |
|"Um, um; go on." "I was about to say,   |
|sir, that--" "Art thou a silk-worm?     |
|Dost thou spin thy own shroud out of    |
|thyself? Look at thy bosom! Despatch!   |
|and get these traps out of sight." "He  |
|goes aft. That was sudden, now; but     |
|squalls come sudden in hot latitudes.   |
|I've heard that the Isle of Albemarle,  |
|one of the Gallipagos, is cut by the    |
|Equator right in the middle. Seems to   |
|me some sort of Equator cuts yon old    |
|man, too, right in his middle. He's     |
|always under the Line--fiery hot, I     |
|tell ye! He's looking this way--come,   |
|oakum; quick. Here we go again. This    |
|wooden mallet is the cork, and I'm the  |
|professor of musical glasses--tap,      |
|tap!" (AHAB TO HIMSELF.) "There's a     |
|sight! There's a sound! The grey-headed |
|woodpecker tapping the hollow tree!     |
|Blind and dumb might well be envied now.|
|See! that thing rests on two line-tubs, |
|full of tow-lines. A most malicious     |
|wag, that fellow. Rat-tat! So man's     |
|seconds tick! Oh! how immaterial are all|
|materials! What things real are there,  |
|but imponderable thoughts? Here now's   |
|the very dreaded symbol of grim death,  |
|by a mere hap, made the expressive sign |
|of the help and hope of most endangered |
|life. A life-buoy of a coffin! Does     |
|it go further? Can it be that in some   |
|spiritual sense the coffin is, after    |
|all, but an immortality-preserver! I'll |
|think of that. But no. So far gone am   |
|I in the dark side of earth, that its   |
|other side, the theoretic bright one,   |
|seems but uncertain twilight to me. Will|
|ye never have done, Carpenter, with that|
|accursed sound? I go below; let me not  |
|see that thing here when I return again.|
|Now, then, Pip, we'll talk this over; I |
|do suck most wondrous philosophies from |
|thee! Some unknown conduits from the    |
|unknown worlds must empty into thee!"   |
|Next day, a large ship, the Rachel,     |
|was descried, bearing directly down     |
|upon the Pequod, all her spars thickly  |
|clustering with men. At the time the    |
|Pequod was making good speed through    |
|the water; but as the broad-winged      |
|windward stranger shot nigh to her, the |
|boastful sails all fell together as     |
|blank bladders that are burst, and all  |
|life fled from the smitten hull. "Bad   |
|news; she brings bad news," muttered    |
|the old Manxman. But ere her commander, |
|who, with trumpet to mouth, stood up in |
|his boat; ere he could hopefully hail,  |
|Ahab's voice was heard. "Hast seen the  |
|White Whale?" "Aye, yesterday. Have ye  |
|seen a whale-boat adrift?" Throttling   |
|his joy, Ahab negatively answered this  |
|unexpected question; and would then have|
|fain boarded the stranger, when the     |
|stranger captain himself, having stopped|
|his vessel's way, was seen descending   |
|her side. A few keen pulls, and his     |
|boat-hook soon clinched the Pequod's    |
|main-chains, and he sprang to the deck. |
|Immediately he was recognised by Ahab   |
|for a Nantucketer he knew. But no formal|
|salutation was exchanged. "Where was    |
|he?--not killed!--not killed!" cried    |
|Ahab, closely advancing. "How was it?"  |
|It seemed that somewhat late on the     |
|afternoon of the day previous, while    |
|three of the stranger's boats were      |
|engaged with a shoal of whales, which   |
|had led them some four or five miles    |
|from the ship; and while they were      |
|yet in swift chase to windward, the     |
|white hump and head of Moby Dick had    |
|suddenly loomed up out of the water,    |
|not very far to leeward; whereupon,     |
|the fourth rigged boat--a reserved      |
|one--had been instantly lowered in      |
|chase. After a keen sail before the     |
|wind, this fourth boat--the swiftest    |
|keeled of all--seemed to have succeeded |
|in fastening--at least, as well as the  |
|man at the mast-head could tell anything|
|about it. In the distance he saw the    |
|diminished dotted boat; and then a      |
|swift gleam of bubbling white water;    |
|and after that nothing more; whence it  |
|was concluded that the stricken whale   |
|must have indefinitely run away with    |
|his pursuers, as often happens. There   |
|was some apprehension, but no positive  |
|alarm, as yet. The recall signals were  |
|placed in the rigging; darkness came on;|
|and forced to pick up her three far to  |
|windward boats--ere going in quest of   |
|the fourth one in the precisely opposite|
|direction--the ship had not only been   |
|necessitated to leave that boat to its  |
|fate till near midnight, but, for the   |
|time, to increase her distance from     |
|it. But the rest of her crew being      |
|at last safe aboard, she crowded all    |
|sail--stunsail on stunsail--after the   |
|missing boat; kindling a fire in her    |
|try-pots for a beacon; and every other  |
|man aloft on the look-out. But though   |
|when she had thus sailed a sufficient   |
|distance to gain the presumed place of  |
|the absent ones when last seen; though  |
|she then paused to lower her spare      |
|boats to pull all around her; and not   |
|finding anything, had again dashed on;  |
|again paused, and lowered her boats;    |
|and though she had thus continued doing |
|till daylight; yet not the least glimpse|
|of the missing keel had been seen.      |
|The story told, the stranger Captain    |
|immediately went on to reveal his object|
|in boarding the Pequod. He desired      |
|that ship to unite with his own in the  |
|search; by sailing over the sea some    |
|four or five miles apart, on parallel   |
|lines, and so sweeping a double horizon,|
|as it were. "I will wager something     |
|now," whispered Stubb to Flask, "that   |
|some one in that missing boat wore off  |
|that Captain's best coat; mayhap, his   |
|watch--he's so cursed anxious to get    |
|it back. Who ever heard of two pious    |
|whale-ships cruising after one missing  |
|whale-boat in the height of the whaling |
|season? See, Flask, only see how pale   |
|he looks--pale in the very buttons of   |
|his eyes--look--it wasn't the coat--it  |
|must have been the--" "My boy, my own   |
|boy is among them. For God's sake--I    |
|beg, I conjure"--here exclaimed the     |
|stranger Captain to Ahab, who thus far  |
|had but icily received his petition.    |
|"For eight-and-forty hours let me       |
|charter your ship--I will gladly pay for|
|it, and roundly pay for it--if there    |
|be no other way--for eight-and-forty    |
|hours only--only that--you must, oh,    |
|you must, and you SHALL do this thing." |
|"His son!" cried Stubb, "oh, it's his   |
|son he's lost! I take back the coat     |
|and watch--what says Ahab? We must      |
|save that boy." "He's drowned with      |
|the rest on 'em, last night," said      |
|the old Manx sailor standing behind     |
|them; "I heard; all of ye heard their   |
|spirits." Now, as it shortly turned     |
|out, what made this incident of the     |
|Rachel's the more melancholy, was the   |
|circumstance, that not only was one of  |
|the Captain's sons among the number of  |
|the missing boat's crew; but among the  |
|number of the other boat's crews, at    |
|the same time, but on the other hand,   |
|separated from the ship during the      |
|dark vicissitudes of the chase, there   |
|had been still another son; as that     |
|for a time, the wretched father was     |
|plunged to the bottom of the cruellest  |
|perplexity; which was only solved for   |
|him by his chief mate's instinctively   |
|adopting the ordinary procedure of a    |
|whale-ship in such emergencies, that    |
|is, when placed between jeopardized but |
|divided boats, always to pick up the    |
|majority first. But the captain, for    |
|some unknown constitutional reason, had |
|refrained from mentioning all this, and |
|not till forced to it by Ahab's iciness |
|did he allude to his one yet missing    |
|boy; a little lad, but twelve years     |
|old, whose father with the earnest but  |
|unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketer's|
|paternal love, had thus early sought to |
|initiate him in the perils and wonders  |
|of a vocation almost immemorially the   |
|destiny of all his race. Nor does it    |
|unfrequently occur, that Nantucket      |
|captains will send a son of such tender |
|age away from them, for a protracted    |
|three or four years' voyage in some     |
|other ship than their own; so that      |
|their first knowledge of a whaleman's   |
|career shall be unenervated by any      |
|chance display of a father's natural    |
|but untimely partiality, or undue       |
|apprehensiveness and concern. Meantime, |
|now the stranger was still beseeching   |
|his poor boon of Ahab; and Ahab still   |
|stood like an anvil, receiving every    |
|shock, but without the least quivering  |
|of his own. "I will not go," said the   |
|stranger, "till you say aye to me. Do   |
|to me as you would have me do to you in |
|the like case. For YOU too have a boy,  |
|Captain Ahab--though but a child, and   |
|nestling safely at home now--a child of |
|your old age too--Yes, yes, you relent; |
|I see it--run, run, men, now, and stand |
|by to square in the yards." "Avast,"    |
|cried Ahab--"touch not a rope-yarn";    |
|then in a voice that prolongingly       |
|moulded every word--"Captain Gardiner,  |
|I will not do it. Even now I lose time. |
|Good-bye, good-bye. God bless ye, man,  |
|and may I forgive myself, but I must    |
|go. Mr. Starbuck, look at the binnacle  |
|watch, and in three minutes from this   |
|present instant warn off all strangers: |
|then brace forward again, and let the   |
|ship sail as before." Hurriedly turning,|
|with averted face, he descended into    |
|his cabin, leaving the strange captain  |
|transfixed at this unconditional and    |
|utter rejection of his so earnest suit. |
|But starting from his enchantment,      |
|Gardiner silently hurried to the side;  |
|more fell than stepped into his boat,   |
|and returned to his ship. Soon the two  |
|ships diverged their wakes; and long    |
|as the strange vessel was in view, she  |
|was seen to yaw hither and thither at   |
|every dark spot, however small, on the  |
|sea. This way and that her yards were   |
|swung round; starboard and larboard,    |
|she continued to tack; now she beat     |
|against a head sea; and again it pushed |
|her before it; while all the while, her |
|masts and yards were thickly clustered  |
|with men, as three tall cherry trees,   |
|when the boys are cherrying among the   |
|boughs. But by her still halting course |
|and winding, woeful way, you plainly saw|
|that this ship that so wept with spray, |
|still remained without comfort. She     |
|was Rachel, weeping for her children,   |
|because they were not. Lad, lad, I tell |
|thee thou must not follow Ahab now.     |
|The hour is coming when Ahab would not  |
|scare thee from him, yet would not have |
|thee by him. There is that in thee,     |
|poor lad, which I feel too curing to my |
|malady. Like cures like; and for this   |
|hunt, my malady becomes my most desired |
|health. Do thou abide below here, where |
|they shall serve thee, as if thou wert  |
|the captain. Aye, lad, thou shalt sit   |
|here in my own screwed chair; another   |
|screw to it, thou must be." "No, no,    |
|no! ye have not a whole body, sir; do   |
|ye but use poor me for your one lost    |
|leg; only tread upon me, sir; I ask no  |
|more, so I remain a part of ye." "Oh!   |
|spite of million villains, this makes   |
|me a bigot in the fadeless fidelity     |
|of man!--and a black! and crazy!--but   |
|methinks like-cures-like applies to him |
|too; he grows so sane again." "They tell|
|me, sir, that Stubb did once desert     |
|poor little Pip, whose drowned bones    |
|now show white, for all the blackness   |
|of his living skin. But I will never    |
|desert ye, sir, as Stubb did him. Sir,  |
|I must go with ye." "If thou speakest   |
|thus to me much more, Ahab's purpose    |
|keels up in him. I tell thee no; it     |
|cannot be." "Oh good master, master,    |
|master! "Weep so, and I will murder     |
|thee! have a care, for Ahab too is      |
|mad. Listen, and thou wilt often hear   |
|my ivory foot upon the deck, and still  |
|know that I am there. And now I quit    |
|thee. Thy hand!--Met! True art thou,    |
|lad, as the circumference to its centre.|
|So: God for ever bless thee; and if it  |
|come to that,--God for ever save thee,  |
|let what will befall." "Here he this    |
|instant stood; I stand in his air,--but |
|I'm alone. Now were even poor Pip here  |
|I could endure it, but he's missing.    |
|Pip! Pip! Ding, dong, ding! Who's seen  |
|Pip? He must be up here; let's try the  |
|door. What? neither lock, nor bolt, nor |
|bar; and yet there's no opening it. It  |
|must be the spell; he told me to stay   |
|here: Aye, and told me this screwed     |
|chair was mine. Here, then, I'll seat   |
|me, against the transom, in the ship's  |
|full middle, all her keel and her three |
|masts before me. Here, our old sailors  |
|say, in their black seventy-fours       |
|great admirals sometimes sit at table,  |
|and lord it over rows of captains       |
|and lieutenants. Ha! what's this?       |
|epaulets! epaulets! the epaulets all    |
|come crowding! Pass round the decanters;|
|glad to see ye; fill up, monsieurs!     |
|What an odd feeling, now, when a black  |
|boy's host to white men with gold lace  |
|upon their coats!--Monsieurs, have ye   |
|seen one Pip?--a little negro lad,      |
|five feet high, hang-dog look, and      |
|cowardly! Jumped from a whale-boat      |
|once;--seen him? No! Well then, fill up |
|again, captains, and let's drink shame  |
|upon all cowards! I name no names.      |
|Shame upon them! Put one foot upon the  |
|table. Shame upon all cowards.--Hist!   |
|above there, I hear ivory--Oh, master!  |
|master! I am indeed down-hearted when   |
|you walk over me. But here I'll stay,   |
|though this stern strikes rocks; and    |
|they bulge through; and oysters come to |
|join me." And now that at the proper    |
|time and place, after so long and wide  |
|a preliminary cruise, Ahab,--all other  |
|whaling waters swept--seemed to have    |
|chased his foe into an ocean-fold,      |
|to slay him the more securely there;    |
|now, that he found himself hard by the  |
|very latitude and longitude where his   |
|tormenting wound had been inflicted;    |
|now that a vessel had been spoken which |
|on the very day preceding had actually  |
|encountered Moby Dick;--and now that all|
|his successive meetings with various    |
|ships contrastingly concurred to show   |
|the demoniac indifference with which the|
|white whale tore his hunters, whether   |
|sinning or sinned against; now it was   |
|that there lurked a something in the    |
|old man's eyes, which it was hardly     |
|sufferable for feeble souls to see. As  |
|the unsetting polar star, which through |
|the livelong, arctic, six months' night |
|sustains its piercing, steady, central  |
|gaze; so Ahab's purpose now fixedly     |
|gleamed down upon the constant midnight |
|of the gloomy crew. It domineered above |
|them so, that all their bodings, doubts,|
|misgivings, fears, were fain to hide    |
|beneath their souls, and not sprout     |
|forth a single spear or leaf. In this   |
|foreshadowing interval too, all humor,  |
|forced or natural, vanished. Stubb no   |
|more strove to raise a smile; Starbuck  |
|no more strove to check one. Alike,     |
|joy and sorrow, hope and fear, seemed   |
|ground to finest dust, and powdered,    |
|for the time, in the clamped mortar     |
|of Ahab's iron soul. Like machines,     |
|they dumbly moved about the deck, ever  |
|conscious that the old man's despot eye |
|was on them. But did you deeply scan    |
|him in his more secret confidential     |
|hours; when he thought no glance but    |
|one was on him; then you would have     |
|seen that even as Ahab's eyes so awed   |
|the crew's, the inscrutable Parsee's    |
|glance awed his; or somehow, at least,  |
|in some wild way, at times affected     |
|it. Such an added, gliding strangeness  |
|began to invest the thin Fedallah now;  |
|such ceaseless shudderings shook him;   |
|that the men looked dubious at him;     |
|half uncertain, as it seemed, whether   |
|indeed he were a mortal substance, or   |
|else a tremulous shadow cast upon the   |
|deck by some unseen being's body. And   |
|that shadow was always hovering there.  |
|For not by night, even, had Fedallah    |
|ever certainly been known to slumber,   |
|or go below. He would stand still for   |
|hours: but never sat or leaned; his     |
|wan but wondrous eyes did plainly       |
|say--We two watchmen never rest. Nor,   |
|at any time, by night or day could the  |
|mariners now step upon the deck, unless |
|Ahab was before them; either standing   |
|in his pivot-hole, or exactly pacing    |
|the planks between two undeviating      |
|limits,--the main-mast and the mizen;   |
|or else they saw him standing in the    |
|cabin-scuttle,--his living foot advanced|
|upon the deck, as if to step; his hat   |
|slouched heavily over his eyes; so that |
|however motionless he stood, however    |
|the days and nights were added on, that |
|he had not swung in his hammock; yet    |
|hidden beneath that slouching hat, they |
|could never tell unerringly whether,    |
|for all this, his eyes were really      |
|closed at times; or whether he was still|
|intently scanning them; no matter,      |
|though he stood so in the scuttle for   |
|a whole hour on the stretch, and the    |
|unheeded night-damp gathered in beads   |
|of dew upon that stone-carved coat and  |
|hat. The clothes that the night had     |
|wet, the next day's sunshine dried upon |
|him; and so, day after day, and night   |
|after night; he went no more beneath    |
|the planks; whatever he wanted from     |
|the cabin that thing he sent for. He    |
|ate in the same open air; that is, his  |
|two only meals,--breakfast and dinner:  |
|supper he never touched; nor reaped his |
|beard; which darkly grew all gnarled,   |
|as unearthed roots of trees blown over, |
|which still grow idly on at naked base, |
|though perished in the upper verdure.   |
|But though his whole life was now       |
|become one watch on deck; and though    |
|the Parsee's mystic watch was without   |
|intermission as his own; yet these two  |
|never seemed to speak--one man to the   |
|other--unless at long intervals some    |
|passing unmomentous matter made it      |
|necessary. Though such a potent spell   |
|seemed secretly to join the twain;      |
|openly, and to the awe-struck crew, they|
|seemed pole-like asunder. If by day they|
|chanced to speak one word; by night,    |
|dumb men were both, so far as concerned |
|the slightest verbal interchange. At    |
|times, for longest hours, without a     |
|single hail, they stood far parted in   |
|the starlight; Ahab in his scuttle,     |
|the Parsee by the mainmast; but still   |
|fixedly gazing upon each other; as if   |
|in the Parsee Ahab saw his forethrown   |
|shadow, in Ahab the Parsee his abandoned|
|substance. And yet, somehow, did        |
|Ahab--in his own proper self, as daily, |
|hourly, and every instant, commandingly |
|revealed to his subordinates,--Ahab     |
|seemed an independent lord; the Parsee  |
|but his slave. Still again both seemed  |
|yoked together, and an unseen tyrant    |
|driving them; the lean shade siding     |
|the solid rib. For be this Parsee what  |
|he may, all rib and keel was solid      |
|Ahab. At the first faintest glimmering  |
|of the dawn, his iron voice was heard   |
|from aft,--"Man the mast-heads!"--and   |
|all through the day, till after sunset  |
|and after twilight, the same voice      |
|every hour, at the striking of the      |
|helmsman's bell, was heard--"What d'ye  |
|see?--sharp! sharp!" But when three or  |
|four days had slided by, after meeting  |
|the children-seeking Rachel; and no     |
|spout had yet been seen; the monomaniac |
|old man seemed distrustful of his crew's|
|fidelity; at least, of nearly all except|
|the Pagan harpooneers; he seemed to     |
|doubt, even, whether Stubb and Flask    |
|might not willingly overlook the sight  |
|he sought. But if these suspicions were |
|really his, he sagaciously refrained    |
|from verbally expressing them, however  |
|his actions might seem to hint them.    |
|"I will have the first sight of the     |
|whale myself,"--he said. "Aye! Ahab     |
|must have the doubloon! and with his    |
|own hands he rigged a nest of basketed  |
|bowlines; and sending a hand aloft,     |
|with a single sheaved block, to secure  |
|to the main-mast head, he received      |
|the two ends of the downward-reeved     |
|rope; and attaching one to his basket   |
|prepared a pin for the other end, in    |
|order to fasten it at the rail. This    |
|done, with that end yet in his hand     |
|and standing beside the pin, he looked  |
|round upon his crew, sweeping from one  |
|to the other; pausing his glance long   |
|upon Daggoo, Queequeg, Tashtego; but    |
|shunning Fedallah; and then settling    |
|his firm relying eye upon the chief     |
|mate, said,--"Take the rope, sir--I     |
|give it into thy hands, Starbuck." Then |
|arranging his person in the basket, he  |
|gave the word for them to hoist him to  |
|his perch, Starbuck being the one who   |
|secured the rope at last; and afterwards|
|stood near it. And thus, with one hand  |
|clinging round the royal mast, Ahab     |
|gazed abroad upon the sea for miles and |
|miles,--ahead, astern, this side, and   |
|that,--within the wide expanded circle  |
|commanded at so great a height. When in |
|working with his hands at some lofty    |
|almost isolated place in the rigging,   |
|which chances to afford no foothold,    |
|the sailor at sea is hoisted up to      |
|that spot, and sustained there by the   |
|rope; under these circumstances, its    |
|fastened end on deck is always given    |
|in strict charge to some one man who    |
|has the special watch of it. Because in |
|such a wilderness of running rigging,   |
|whose various different relations aloft |
|cannot always be infallibly discerned   |
|by what is seen of them at the deck;    |
|and when the deck-ends of these ropes   |
|are being every few minutes cast down   |
|from the fastenings, it would be but a  |
|natural fatality, if, unprovided with a |
|constant watchman, the hoisted sailor   |
|should by some carelessness of the crew |
|be cast adrift and fall all swooping    |
|to the sea. So Ahab's proceedings in    |
|this matter were not unusual; the only  |
|strange thing about them seemed to be,  |
|that Starbuck, almost the one only      |
|man who had ever ventured to oppose     |
|him with anything in the slightest      |
|degree approaching to decision--one     |
|of those too, whose faithfulness on     |
|the look-out he had seemed to doubt     |
|somewhat;--it was strange, that this    |
|was the very man he should select for   |
|his watchman; freely giving his whole   |
|life into such an otherwise distrusted  |
|person's hands. Now, the first time     |
|Ahab was perched aloft; ere he had      |
|been there ten minutes; one of those    |
|red-billed savage sea-hawks which so    |
|often fly incommodiously close round    |
|the manned mast-heads of whalemen in    |
|these latitudes; one of these birds came|
|wheeling and screaming round his head in|
|a maze of untrackably swift circlings.  |
|Then it darted a thousand feet straight |
|up into the air; then spiralized        |
|downwards, and went eddying again round |
|his head. But with his gaze fixed upon  |
|the dim and distant horizon, Ahab seemed|
|not to mark this wild bird; nor, indeed,|
|would any one else have marked it much, |
|it being no uncommon circumstance;      |
|only now almost the least heedful eye   |
|seemed to see some sort of cunning      |
|meaning in almost every sight. "Your    |
|hat, your hat, sir!" suddenly cried     |
|the Sicilian seaman, who being posted   |
|at the mizen-mast-head, stood directly  |
|behind Ahab, though somewhat lower than |
|his level, and with a deep gulf of air  |
|dividing them. But already the sable    |
|wing was before the old man's eyes; the |
|long hooked bill at his head: with a    |
|scream, the black hawk darted away with |
|his prize. An eagle flew thrice round   |
|Tarquin's head, removing his cap to     |
|replace it, and thereupon Tanaquil, his |
|wife, declared that Tarquin would be    |
|king of Rome. But only by the replacing |
|of the cap was that omen accounted      |
|good. Ahab's hat was never restored;    |
|the wild hawk flew on and on with it;   |
|far in advance of the prow: and at last |
|disappeared; while from the point of    |
|that disappearance, a minute black spot |
|was dimly discerned, falling from that  |
|vast height into the sea. The intense   |
|Pequod sailed on; the rolling waves     |
|and days went by; the life-buoy-coffin  |
|still lightly swung; and another ship,  |
|most miserably misnamed the Delight, was|
|descried. As she drew nigh, all eyes    |
|were fixed upon her broad beams, called |
|shears, which, in some whaling-ships,   |
|cross the quarter-deck at the height of |
|eight or nine feet; serving to carry    |
|the spare, unrigged, or disabled boats. |
|Upon the stranger's shears were beheld  |
|the shattered, white ribs, and some few |
|splintered planks, of what had once     |
|been a whale-boat; but you now saw      |
|through this wreck, as plainly as you   |
|see through the peeled, half-unhinged,  |
|and bleaching skeleton of a horse.      |
|"Hast seen the White Whale?" "Look!"    |
|replied the hollow-cheeked captain from |
|his taffrail; and with his trumpet he   |
|pointed to the wreck. "Hast killed him?"|
|"The harpoon is not yet forged that     |
|ever will do that," answered the other, |
|sadly glancing upon a rounded hammock   |
|on the deck, whose gathered sides some  |
|noiseless sailors were busy in sewing   |
|together. "Not forged!" and snatching   |
|Perth's levelled iron from the crotch,  |
|Ahab held it out, exclaiming--"Look     |
|ye, Nantucketer; here in this hand I    |
|hold his death! Tempered in blood, and  |
|tempered by lightning are these barbs;  |
|and I swear to temper them triply in    |
|that hot place behind the fin, where    |
|the White Whale most feels his accursed |
|life!" "Then God keep thee, old         |
|man--see'st thou that"--pointing to the |
|hammock--"I bury but one of five stout  |
|men, who were alive only yesterday;     |
|but were dead ere night. Only THAT one  |
|I bury; the rest were buried before     |
|they died; you sail upon their tomb."   |
|Then turning to his crew--"Are ye ready |
|there? place the plank then on the      |
|rail, and lift the body; so, then--Oh!  |
|God"--advancing towards the hammock with|
|uplifted hands--"may the resurrection   |
|and the life--" "Brace forward! Up      |
|helm!" cried Ahab like lightning to his |
|men. But the suddenly started Pequod was|
|not quick enough to escape the sound of |
|the splash that the corpse soon made    |
|as it struck the sea; not so quick,     |
|indeed, but that some of the flying     |
|bubbles might have sprinkled her hull   |
|with their ghostly baptism. As Ahab     |
|now glided from the dejected Delight,   |
|the strange life-buoy hanging at the    |
|Pequod's stern came into conspicuous    |
|relief. "Ha! yonder! look yonder, men!" |
|cried a foreboding voice in her wake.   |
|"In vain, oh, ye strangers, ye fly our  |
|sad burial; ye but turn us your taffrail|
|to show us your coffin!" It was a clear |
|steel-blue day. The firmaments of air   |
|and sea were hardly separable in that   |
|all-pervading azure; only, the pensive  |
|air was transparently pure and soft,    |
|with a woman's look, and the robust and |
|man-like sea heaved with long, strong,  |
|lingering swells, as Samson's chest     |
|in his sleep. Hither, and thither, on   |
|high, glided the snow-white wings of    |
|small, unspeckled birds; these were the |
|gentle thoughts of the feminine air;    |
|but to and fro in the deeps, far down   |
|in the bottomless blue, rushed mighty   |
|leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks;     |
|and these were the strong, troubled,    |
|murderous thinkings of the masculine    |
|sea. But though thus contrasting within,|
|the contrast was only in shades and     |
|shadows without; those two seemed one;  |
|it was only the sex, as it were, that   |
|distinguished them. Aloft, like a royal |
|czar and king, the sun seemed giving    |
|this gentle air to this bold and rolling|
|sea; even as bride to groom. And at     |
|the girdling line of the horizon, a     |
|soft and tremulous motion--most seen    |
|here at the Equator--denoted the fond,  |
|throbbing trust, the loving alarms, with|
|which the poor bride gave her bosom     |
|away. Tied up and twisted; gnarled and  |
|knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm   |
|and unyielding; his eyes glowing like   |
|coals, that still glow in the ashes     |
|of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth   |
|in the clearness of the morn; lifting   |
|his splintered helmet of a brow to the  |
|fair girl's forehead of heaven. Oh,     |
|immortal infancy, and innocency of the  |
|azure! Invisible winged creatures that  |
|frolic all round us! Sweet childhood    |
|of air and sky! how oblivious were ye   |
|of old Ahab's close-coiled woe! But so  |
|have I seen little Miriam and Martha,   |
|laughing-eyed elves, heedlessly gambol  |
|around their old sire; sporting with the|
|circle of singed locks which grew on the|
|marge of that burnt-out crater of his   |
|brain. Slowly crossing the deck from    |
|the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side  |
|and watched how his shadow in the water |
|sank and sank to his gaze, the more     |
|and the more that he strove to pierce   |
|the profundity. But the lovely aromas   |
|in that enchanted air did at last seem  |
|to dispel, for a moment, the cankerous  |
|thing in his soul. That glad, happy air,|
|that winsome sky, did at last stroke    |
|and caress him; the step-mother world,  |
|so long cruel--forbidding--now threw    |
|affectionate arms round his stubborn    |
|neck, and did seem to joyously sob over |
|him, as if over one, that however wilful|
|and erring, she could yet find it in    |
|her heart to save and to bless. From    |
|beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped   |
|a tear into the sea; nor did all the    |
|Pacific contain such wealth as that one |
|wee drop. Starbuck saw the old man; saw |
|him, how he heavily leaned over the     |
|side; and he seemed to hear in his own  |
|true heart the measureless sobbing that |
|stole out of the centre of the serenity |
|around. Careful not to touch him, or    |
|be noticed by him, he yet drew near     |
|to him, and stood there. Ahab turned.   |
|"Starbuck!" "Sir." "Oh, Starbuck! it is |
|a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking   |
|sky. On such a day--very much such a    |
|sweetness as this--I struck my first    |
|whale--a boy-harpooneer of eighteen!    |
|Forty--forty--forty years ago!--ago!    |
|Forty years of continual whaling! forty |
|years of privation, and peril, and      |
|storm-time! forty years on the pitiless |
|sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken  |
|the peaceful land, for forty years to   |
|make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye|
|and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty   |
|years I have not spent three ashore.    |
|When I think of this life I have led;   |
|the desolation of solitude it has been; |
|the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's |
|exclusiveness, which admits but small   |
|entrance to any sympathy from the       |
|green country without--oh, weariness!   |
|heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of      |
|solitary command!--when I think of      |
|all this; only half-suspected, not so   |
|keenly known to me before--and how for  |
|forty years I have fed upon dry salted  |
|fare--fit emblem of the dry nourishment |
|of my soil!--when the poorest landsman  |
|has had fresh fruit to his daily hand,  |
|and broken the world's fresh bread to my|
|mouldy crusts--away, whole oceans away, |
|from that young girl-wife I wedded past |
|fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next|
|day, leaving but one dent in my marriage|
|pillow--wife? wife?--rather a widow with|
|her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that  |
|poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; |
|and then, the madness, the frenzy, the  |
|boiling blood and the smoking brow, with|
|which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab|
|has furiously, foamingly chased his     |
|prey--more a demon than a man!--aye,    |
|aye! what a forty years' fool--fool--old|
|fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife|
|of the chase? why weary, and palsy the  |
|arm at the oar, and the iron, and the   |
|lance? how the richer or better is Ahab |
|now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not    |
|hard, that with this weary load I bear, |
|one poor leg should have been snatched  |
|from under me? Here, brush this old     |
|hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem   |
|to weep. Locks so grey did never grow   |
|but from out some ashes! But do I look  |
|very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I|
|feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as|
|though I were Adam, staggering beneath  |
|the piled centuries since Paradise.     |
|God! God! God!--crack my heart!--stave  |
|my brain!--mockery! mockery! bitter,    |
|biting mockery of grey hairs, have I    |
|lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem   |
|and feel thus intolerably old? Close!   |
|stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look|
|into a human eye; it is better than to  |
|gaze into sea or sky; better than to    |
|gaze upon God. By the green land; by the|
|bright hearth-stone! this is the magic  |
|glass, man; I see my wife and my child  |
|in thine eye. No, no; stay on board,    |
|on board!--lower not when I do; when    |
|branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick.  |
|That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! |
|not with the far away home I see in     |
|that eye!" "Oh, my Captain! my Captain! |
|noble soul! grand old heart, after all! |
|why should any one give chase to that   |
|hated fish! Away with me! let us fly    |
|these deadly waters! let us home! Wife  |
|and child, too, are Starbuck's--wife    |
|and child of his brotherly, sisterly,   |
|play-fellow youth; even as thine, sir,  |
|are the wife and child of thy loving,   |
|longing, paternal old age! Away! let us |
|away!--this instant let me alter the    |
|course! How cheerily, how hilariously, O|
|my Captain, would we bowl on our way to |
|see old Nantucket again! I think, sir,  |
|they have some such mild blue days, even|
|as this, in Nantucket." "They have, they|
|have. I have seen them--some summer days|
|in the morning. About this time--yes, it|
|is his noon nap now--the boy vivaciously|
|wakes; sits up in bed; and his mother   |
|tells him of me, of cannibal old me; how|
|I am abroad upon the deep, but will yet |
|come back to dance him again." "'Tis my |
|Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that|
|my boy, every morning, should be carried|
|to the hill to catch the first glimpse  |
|of his father's sail! Yes, yes! no more!|
|it is done! we head for Nantucket! Come,|
|my Captain, study out the course, and   |
|let us away! See, see! the boy's face   |
|from the window! the boy's hand on the  |
|hill!" But Ahab's glance was averted;   |
|like a blighted fruit tree he shook,    |
|and cast his last, cindered apple to    |
|the soil. "What is it, what nameless,   |
|inscrutable, unearthly thing is it;     |
|what cozening, hidden lord and master,  |
|and cruel, remorseless emperor commands |
|me; that against all natural lovings    |
|and longings, I so keep pushing, and    |
|crowding, and jamming myself on all the |
|time; recklessly making me ready to do  |
|what in my own proper, natural heart,   |
|I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab,   |
|Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts  |
|this arm? But if the great sun move not |
|of himself; but is as an errand-boy in  |
|heaven; nor one single star can revolve,|
|but by some invisible power; how then   |
|can this one small heart beat; this one |
|small brain think thoughts; unless God  |
|does that beating, does that thinking,  |
|does that living, and not I. By heaven, |
|man, we are turned round and round in   |
|this world, like yonder windlass, and   |
|Fate is the handspike. And all the      |
|time, lo! that smiling sky, and this    |
|unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore!  |
|who put it into him to chase and fang   |
|that flying-fish? Where do murderers    |
|go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge  |
|himself is dragged to the bar? But it is|
|a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking   |
|sky; and the air smells now, as if it   |
|blew from a far-away meadow; they have  |
|been making hay somewhere under the     |
|slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the  |
|mowers are sleeping among the new-mown  |
|hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, |
|we all sleep at last on the field.      |
|Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness;    |
|as last year's scythes flung down, and  |
|left in the half-cut swaths--Starbuck!" |
|But blanched to a corpse's hue with     |
|despair, the Mate had stolen away.      |
|Ahab crossed the deck to gaze over on   |
|the other side; but started at two      |
|reflected, fixed eyes in the water      |
|there. Fedallah was motionlessly leaning|
|over the same rail. That night, in the  |
|mid-watch, when the old man--as his wont|
|at intervals--stepped forth from the    |
|scuttle in which he leaned, and went to |
|his pivot-hole, he suddenly thrust out  |
|his face fiercely, snuffing up the sea  |
|air as a sagacious ship's dog will, in  |
|drawing nigh to some barbarous isle. He |
|declared that a whale must be near. Soon|
|that peculiar odor, sometimes to a great|
|distance given forth by the living sperm|
|whale, was palpable to all the watch;   |
|nor was any mariner surprised when,     |
|after inspecting the compass, and then  |
|the dog-vane, and then ascertaining the |
|precise bearing of the odor as nearly   |
|as possible, Ahab rapidly ordered the   |
|ship's course to be slightly altered,   |
|and the sail to be shortened. The acute |
|policy dictating these movements was    |
|sufficiently vindicated at daybreak,    |
|by the sight of a long sleek on the     |
|sea directly and lengthwise ahead,      |
|smooth as oil, and resembling in the    |
|pleated watery wrinkles bordering it,   |
|the polished metallic-like marks of     |
|some swift tide-rip, at the mouth of a  |
|deep, rapid stream. "Man the mast-heads!|
|Call all hands!" Thundering with the    |
|butts of three clubbed handspikes on    |
|the forecastle deck, Daggoo roused the  |
|sleepers with such judgment claps that  |
|they seemed to exhale from the scuttle, |
|so instantaneously did they appear with |
|their clothes in their hands. "What d'ye|
|see?" cried Ahab, flattening his face to|
|the sky. "Nothing, nothing sir!" was the|
|sound hailing down in reply. "T'gallant |
|sails!--stunsails! alow and aloft, and  |
|on both sides!" All sail being set, he  |
|now cast loose the life-line, reserved  |
|for swaying him to the main royal-mast  |
|head; and in a few moments they were    |
|hoisting him thither, when, while but   |
|two thirds of the way aloft, and while  |
|peering ahead through the horizontal    |
|vacancy between the main-top-sail and   |
|top-gallant-sail, he raised a gull-like |
|cry in the air. "There she blows!--there|
|she blows! A hump like a snow-hill! It  |
|is Moby Dick!" Fired by the cry which   |
|seemed simultaneously taken up by the   |
|three look-outs, the men on deck rushed |
|to the rigging to behold the famous     |
|whale they had so long been pursuing.   |
|Ahab had now gained his final perch,    |
|some feet above the other look-outs,    |
|Tashtego standing just beneath him on   |
|the cap of the top-gallant-mast, so     |
|that the Indian's head was almost on    |
|a level with Ahab's heel. From this     |
|height the whale was now seen some      |
|mile or so ahead, at every roll of the  |
|sea revealing his high sparkling hump,  |
|and regularly jetting his silent spout  |
|into the air. To the credulous mariners |
|it seemed the same silent spout they    |
|had so long ago beheld in the moonlit   |
|Atlantic and Indian Oceans. "And did    |
|none of ye see it before?" cried Ahab,  |
|hailing the perched men all around him. |
|"I saw him almost that same instant,    |
|sir, that Captain Ahab did, and I cried |
|out," said Tashtego. "Not the same      |
|instant; not the same--no, the doubloon |
|is mine, Fate reserved the doubloon     |
|for me. I only; none of ye could have   |
|raised the White Whale first. There     |
|she blows!--there she blows!--there     |
|she blows! There again!--there again!"  |
|he cried, in long-drawn, lingering,     |
|methodic tones, attuned to the gradual  |
|prolongings of the whale's visible jets.|
|"He's going to sound! In stunsails!     |
|Down top-gallant-sails! Stand by three  |
|boats. Mr. Starbuck, remember, stay     |
|on board, and keep the ship. Helm       |
|there! Luff, luff a point! So; steady,  |
|man, steady! There go flukes! No, no;   |
|only black water! All ready the boats   |
|there? Stand by, stand by! Lower me,    |
|Mr. Starbuck; lower, lower,--quick,     |
|quicker!" and he slid through the air   |
|to the deck. "He is heading straight    |
|to leeward, sir," cried Stubb, "right   |
|away from us; cannot have seen the      |
|ship yet." "Be dumb, man! Stand by the  |
|braces! Hard down the helm!--brace up!  |
|Shiver her!--shiver her!--So; well      |
|that! Boats, boats!" Soon all the boats |
|but Starbuck's were dropped; all the    |
|boat-sails set--all the paddles plying; |
|with rippling swiftness, shooting to    |
|leeward; and Ahab heading the onset. A  |
|pale, death-glimmer lit up Fedallah's   |
|sunken eyes; a hideous motion gnawed his|
|mouth. Like noiseless nautilus shells,  |
|their light prows sped through the sea; |
|but only slowly they neared the foe. As |
|they neared him, the ocean grew still   |
|more smooth; seemed drawing a carpet    |
|over its waves; seemed a noon-meadow,   |
|so serenely it spread. At length the    |
|breathless hunter came so nigh his      |
|seemingly unsuspecting prey, that his   |
|entire dazzling hump was distinctly     |
|visible, sliding along the sea as if    |
|an isolated thing, and continually set  |
|in a revolving ring of finest, fleecy,  |
|greenish foam. He saw the vast, involved|
|wrinkles of the slightly projecting     |
|head beyond. Before it, far out on the  |
|soft Turkish-rugged waters, went the    |
|glistening white shadow from his broad, |
|milky forehead, a musical rippling      |
|playfully accompanying the shade; and   |
|behind, the blue waters interchangeably |
|flowed over into the moving valley of   |
|his steady wake; and on either hand     |
|bright bubbles arose and danced by his  |
|side. But these were broken again by    |
|the light toes of hundreds of gay fowl  |
|softly feathering the sea, alternate    |
|with their fitful flight; and like      |
|to some flag-staff rising from the      |
|painted hull of an argosy, the tall     |
|but shattered pole of a recent lance    |
|projected from the white whale's back;  |
|and at intervals one of the cloud of    |
|soft-toed fowls hovering, and to and fro|
|skimming like a canopy over the fish,   |
|silently perched and rocked on this     |
|pole, the long tail feathers streaming  |
|like pennons. A gentle joyousness--a    |
|mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, |
|invested the gliding whale. Not the     |
|white bull Jupiter swimming away with   |
|ravished Europa clinging to his graceful|
|horns; his lovely, leering eyes sideways|
|intent upon the maid; with smooth       |
|bewitching fleetness, rippling straight |
|for the nuptial bower in Crete; not     |
|Jove, not that great majesty Supreme!   |
|did surpass the glorified White Whale   |
|as he so divinely swam. On each soft    |
|side--coincident with the parted swell, |
|that but once leaving him, then flowed  |
|so wide away--on each bright side, the  |
|whale shed off enticings. No wonder     |
|there had been some among the hunters   |
|who namelessly transported and allured  |
|by all this serenity, had ventured to   |
|assail it; but had fatally found that   |
|quietude but the vesture of tornadoes.  |
|Yet calm, enticing calm, oh, whale!     |
|thou glidest on, to all who for the     |
|first time eye thee, no matter how      |
|many in that same way thou may'st have  |
|bejuggled and destroyed before. And     |
|thus, through the serene tranquillities |
|of the tropical sea, among waves        |
|whose hand-clappings were suspended     |
|by exceeding rapture, Moby Dick moved   |
|on, still withholding from sight the    |
|full terrors of his submerged trunk,    |
|entirely hiding the wrenched hideousness|
|of his jaw. But soon the fore part of   |
|him slowly rose from the water; for     |
|an instant his whole marbleized body    |
|formed a high arch, like Virginia's     |
|Natural Bridge, and warningly waving    |
|his bannered flukes in the air, the     |
|grand god revealed himself, sounded, and|
|went out of sight. Hoveringly halting,  |
|and dipping on the wing, the white      |
|sea-fowls longingly lingered over the   |
|agitated pool that he left. With oars   |
|apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of  |
|their sails adrift, the three boats now |
|stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick's    |
|reappearance. "An hour," said Ahab,     |
|standing rooted in his boat's stern;    |
|and he gazed beyond the whale's place,  |
|towards the dim blue spaces and wide    |
|wooing vacancies to leeward. It was     |
|only an instant; for again his eyes     |
|seemed whirling round in his head as    |
|he swept the watery circle. The breeze  |
|now freshened; the sea began to swell.  |
|"The birds!--the birds!" cried Tashtego.|
|In long Indian file, as when herons     |
|take wing, the white birds were now all |
|flying towards Ahab's boat; and when    |
|within a few yards began fluttering over|
|the water there, wheeling round and     |
|round, with joyous, expectant cries.    |
|Their vision was keener than man's;     |
|Ahab could discover no sign in the sea. |
|But suddenly as he peered down and down |
|into its depths, he profoundly saw a    |
|white living spot no bigger than a      |
|white weasel, with wonderful celerity   |
|uprising, and magnifying as it rose,    |
|till it turned, and then there were     |
|plainly revealed two long crooked rows  |
|of white, glistening teeth, floating    |
|up from the undiscoverable bottom. It   |
|was Moby Dick's open mouth and scrolled |
|jaw; his vast, shadowed bulk still half |
|blending with the blue of the sea. The  |
|glittering mouth yawned beneath the     |
|boat like an open-doored marble tomb;   |
|and giving one sidelong sweep with his  |
|steering oar, Ahab whirled the craft    |
|aside from this tremendous apparition.  |
|Then, calling upon Fedallah to change   |
|places with him, went forward to the    |
|bows, and seizing Perth's harpoon,      |
|commanded his crew to grasp their oars  |
|and stand by to stern. Now, by reason   |
|of this timely spinning round the boat  |
|upon its axis, its bow, by anticipation,|
|was made to face the whale's head while |
|yet under water. But as if perceiving   |
|this stratagem, Moby Dick, with that    |
|malicious intelligence ascribed to him, |
|sidelingly transplanted himself, as     |
|it were, in an instant, shooting his    |
|pleated head lengthwise beneath the     |
|boat. Through and through; through every|
|plank and each rib, it thrilled for an  |
|instant, the whale obliquely lying on   |
|his back, in the manner of a biting     |
|shark, slowly and feelingly taking its  |
|bows full within his mouth, so that     |
|the long, narrow, scrolled lower jaw    |
|curled high up into the open air, and   |
|one of the teeth caught in a row-lock.  |
|The bluish pearl-white of the inside    |
|of the jaw was within six inches of     |
|Ahab's head, and reached higher than    |
|that. In this attitude the White Whale  |
|now shook the slight cedar as a mildly  |
|cruel cat her mouse. With unastonished  |
|eyes Fedallah gazed, and crossed his    |
|arms; but the tiger-yellow crew were    |
|tumbling over each other's heads to gain|
|the uttermost stern. And now, while     |
|both elastic gunwales were springing in |
|and out, as the whale dallied with the  |
|doomed craft in this devilish way; and  |
|from his body being submerged beneath   |
|the boat, he could not be darted at     |
|from the bows, for the bows were almost |
|inside of him, as it were; and while    |
|the other boats involuntarily paused,   |
|as before a quick crisis impossible to  |
|withstand, then it was that monomaniac  |
|Ahab, furious with this tantalizing     |
|vicinity of his foe, which placed him   |
|all alive and helpless in the very jaws |
|he hated; frenzied with all this, he    |
|seized the long bone with his naked     |
|hands, and wildly strove to wrench it   |
|from its gripe. As now he thus vainly   |
|strove, the jaw slipped from him; the   |
|frail gunwales bent in, collapsed, and  |
|snapped, as both jaws, like an enormous |
|shears, sliding further aft, bit the    |
|craft completely in twain, and locked   |
|themselves fast again in the sea,       |
|midway between the two floating wrecks. |
|These floated aside, the broken ends    |
|drooping, the crew at the stern-wreck   |
|clinging to the gunwales, and striving  |
|to hold fast to the oars to lash them   |
|across. At that preluding moment, ere   |
|the boat was yet snapped, Ahab, the     |
|first to perceive the whale's intent,   |
|by the crafty upraising of his head, a  |
|movement that loosed his hold for the   |
|time; at that moment his hand had made  |
|one final effort to push the boat out   |
|of the bite. But only slipping further  |
|into the whale's mouth, and tilting over|
|sideways as it slipped, the boat had    |
|shaken off his hold on the jaw; spilled |
|him out of it, as he leaned to the push;|
|and so he fell flat-faced upon the sea. |
|Ripplingly withdrawing from his prey,   |
|Moby Dick now lay at a little distance, |
|vertically thrusting his oblong white   |
|head up and down in the billows; and    |
|at the same time slowly revolving his   |
|whole spindled body; so that when his   |
|vast wrinkled forehead rose--some twenty|
|or more feet out of the water--the now  |
|rising swells, with all their confluent |
|waves, dazzlingly broke against it;     |
|vindictively tossing their shivered     |
|spray still higher into the air.* So,   |
|in a gale, the but half baffled Channel |
|billows only recoil from the base of the|
|Eddystone, triumphantly to overleap its |
|summit with their scud. This motion is  |
|peculiar to the sperm whale. It receives|
|its designation (pitchpoling) from      |
|its being likened to that preliminary   |
|up-and-down poise of the whale-lance,   |
|in the exercise called pitchpoling,     |
|previously described. By this motion the|
|whale must best and most comprehensively|
|view whatever objects may be encircling |
|him. But soon resuming his horizontal   |
|attitude, Moby Dick swam swiftly round  |
|and round the wrecked crew; sideways    |
|churning the water in his vengeful      |
|wake, as if lashing himself up to still |
|another and more deadly assault. The    |
|sight of the splintered boat seemed     |
|to madden him, as the blood of grapes   |
|and mulberries cast before Antiochus's  |
|elephants in the book of Maccabees.     |
|Meanwhile Ahab half smothered in the    |
|foam of the whale's insolent tail, and  |
|too much of a cripple to swim,--though  |
|he could still keep afloat, even in     |
|the heart of such a whirlpool as that;  |
|helpless Ahab's head was seen, like a   |
|tossed bubble which the least chance    |
|shock might burst. From the boat's      |
|fragmentary stern, Fedallah incuriously |
|and mildly eyed him; the clinging crew, |
|at the other drifting end, could not    |
|succor him; more than enough was it     |
|for them to look to themselves. For so  |
|revolvingly appalling was the White     |
|Whale's aspect, and so planetarily swift|
|the ever-contracting circles he made,   |
|that he seemed horizontally swooping    |
|upon them. And though the other boats,  |
|unharmed, still hovered hard by; still  |
|they dared not pull into the eddy to    |
|strike, lest that should be the signal  |
|for the instant destruction of the      |
|jeopardized castaways, Ahab and all;    |
|nor in that case could they themselves  |
|hope to escape. With straining eyes,    |
|then, they remained on the outer edge   |
|of the direful zone, whose centre had   |
|now become the old man's head. Meantime,|
|from the beginning all this had been    |
|descried from the ship's mast heads;    |
|and squaring her yards, she had borne   |
|down upon the scene; and was now so     |
|nigh, that Ahab in the water hailed     |
|her!--"Sail on the"--but that moment a  |
|breaking sea dashed on him from Moby    |
|Dick, and whelmed him for the time.     |
|But struggling out of it again, and     |
|chancing to rise on a towering crest, he|
|shouted,--"Sail on the whale!--Drive him|
|off!" The Pequod's prows were pointed;  |
|and breaking up the charmed circle, she |
|effectually parted the white whale from |
|his victim. As he sullenly swam off,    |
|the boats flew to the rescue. Dragged   |
|into Stubb's boat with blood-shot,      |
|blinded eyes, the white brine caking    |
|in his wrinkles; the long tension of    |
|Ahab's bodily strength did crack, and   |
|helplessly he yielded to his body's     |
|doom: for a time, lying all crushed     |
|in the bottom of Stubb's boat, like     |
|one trodden under foot of herds of      |
|elephants. Far inland, nameless wails   |
|came from him, as desolate sounds from  |
|out ravines. But this intensity of his  |
|physical prostration did but so much    |
|the more abbreviate it. In an instant's |
|compass, great hearts sometimes condense|
|to one deep pang, the sum total of those|
|shallow pains kindly diffused through   |
|feebler men's whole lives. And so, such |
|hearts, though summary in each one      |
|suffering; still, if the gods decree it,|
|in their life-time aggregate a whole age|
|of woe, wholly made up of instantaneous |
|intensities; for even in their pointless|
|centres, those noble natures contain    |
|the entire circumferences of inferior   |
|souls. "The harpoon," said Ahab, half   |
|way rising, and draggingly leaning on   |
|one bended arm--"is it safe?" "Aye,     |
|sir, for it was not darted; this is     |
|it," said Stubb, showing it. "Lay it    |
|before me;--any missing men?" "One,     |
|two, three, four, five;--there were     |
|five oars, sir, and here are five men." |
|"That's good.--Help me, man; I wish to  |
|stand. So, so, I see him! there! there! |
|going to leeward still; what a leaping  |
|spout!--Hands off from me! The eternal  |
|sap runs up in Ahab's bones again!      |
|Set the sail; out oars; the helm!" It   |
|is often the case that when a boat is   |
|stove, its crew, being picked up by     |
|another boat, help to work that second  |
|boat; and the chase is thus continued   |
|with what is called double-banked oars. |
|It was thus now. But the added power    |
|of the boat did not equal the added     |
|power of the whale, for he seemed to    |
|have treble-banked his every fin;       |
|swimming with a velocity which plainly  |
|showed, that if now, under these        |
|circumstances, pushed on, the chase     |
|would prove an indefinitely prolonged,  |
|if not a hopeless one; nor could any    |
|crew endure for so long a period, such  |
|an unintermitted, intense straining at  |
|the oar; a thing barely tolerable only  |
|in some one brief vicissitude. The ship |
|itself, then, as it sometimes happens,  |
|offered the most promising intermediate |
|means of overtaking the chase.          |
|Accordingly, the boats now made for     |
|her, and were soon swayed up to their   |
|cranes--the two parts of the wrecked    |
|boat having been previously secured by  |
|her--and then hoisting everything to    |
|her side, and stacking her canvas high  |
|up, and sideways outstretching it with  |
|stun-sails, like the double-jointed     |
|wings of an albatross; the Pequod bore  |
|down in the leeward wake of Moby-Dick.  |
|At the well known, methodic intervals,  |
|the whale's glittering spout was        |
|regularly announced from the manned     |
|mast-heads; and when he would be        |
|reported as just gone down, Ahab would  |
|take the time, and then pacing the      |
|deck, binnacle-watch in hand, so soon   |
|as the last second of the allotted hour |
|expired, his voice was heard.--"Whose   |
|is the doubloon now? D'ye see him?" and |
|if the reply was, No, sir! straightway  |
|he commanded them to lift him to his    |
|perch. In this way the day wore on;     |
|Ahab, now aloft and motionless; anon,   |
|unrestingly pacing the planks. As he was|
|thus walking, uttering no sound, except |
|to hail the men aloft, or to bid them   |
|hoist a sail still higher, or to spread |
|one to a still greater breadth--thus to |
|and fro pacing, beneath his slouched    |
|hat, at every turn he passed his own    |
|wrecked boat, which had been dropped    |
|upon the quarter-deck, and lay there    |
|reversed; broken bow to shattered stern.|
|At last he paused before it; and as in  |
|an already over-clouded sky fresh troops|
|of clouds will sometimes sail across, so|
|over the old man's face there now stole |
|some such added gloom as this. Stubb    |
|saw him pause; and perhaps intending,   |
|not vainly, though, to evince his own   |
|unabated fortitude, and thus keep up a  |
|valiant place in his Captain's mind,    |
|he advanced, and eyeing the wreck       |
|exclaimed--"The thistle the ass refused;|
|it pricked his mouth too keenly, sir;   |
|ha! ha!" "What soulless thing is this   |
|that laughs before a wreck? Man, man!   |
|did I not know thee brave as fearless   |
|fire (and as mechanical) I could swear  |
|thou wert a poltroon. Groan nor laugh   |
|should be heard before a wreck." "Aye,  |
|sir," said Starbuck drawing near, "'tis |
|a solemn sight; an omen, and an ill     |
|one." "Omen? omen?--the dictionary! If  |
|the gods think to speak outright to man,|
|they will honourably speak outright;    |
|not shake their heads, and give an      |
|old wives' darkling hint.--Begone!      |
|Ye two are the opposite poles of one    |
|thing; Starbuck is Stubb reversed, and  |
|Stubb is Starbuck; and ye two are all   |
|mankind; and Ahab stands alone among the|
|millions of the peopled earth, nor gods |
|nor men his neighbors! Cold, cold--I    |
|shiver!--How now? Aloft there! D'ye see |
|him? Sing out for every spout, though   |
|he spout ten times a second!" The day   |
|was nearly done; only the hem of his    |
|golden robe was rustling. Soon, it was  |
|almost dark, but the look-out men still |
|remained unset. "Can't see the spout    |
|now, sir;--too dark"--cried a voice from|
|the air. "How heading when last seen?"  |
|"As before, sir,--straight to leeward." |
|"Good! he will travel slower now 'tis   |
|night. Down royals and top-gallant      |
|stun-sails, Mr. Starbuck. We must not   |
|run over him before morning; he's making|
|a passage now, and may heave-to a while.|
|Helm there! keep her full before the    |
|wind!--Aloft! come down!--Mr. Stubb,    |
|send a fresh hand to the fore-mast head,|
|and see it manned till morning."--Then  |
|advancing towards the doubloon in the   |
|main-mast--"Men, this gold is mine, for |
|I earned it; but I shall let it abide   |
|here till the White Whale is dead; and  |
|then, whosoever of ye first raises him, |
|upon the day he shall be killed, this   |
|gold is that man's; and if on that day I|
|shall again raise him, then, ten times  |
|its sum shall be divided among all of   |
|ye! Away now!--the deck is thine, sir!" |
|And so saying, he placed himself half   |
|way within the scuttle, and slouching   |
|his hat, stood there till dawn, except  |
|when at intervals rousing himself to see|
|how the night wore on. At day-break,    |
|the three mast-heads were punctually    |
|manned afresh. "D'ye see him?" cried    |
|Ahab after allowing a little space for  |
|the light to spread. "See nothing, sir."|
|"Turn up all hands and make sail! he    |
|travels faster than I thought for;--the |
|top-gallant sails!--aye, they should    |
|have been kept on her all night. But    |
|no matter--'tis but resting for the     |
|rush." Here be it said, that this       |
|pertinacious pursuit of one particular  |
|whale, continued through day into night,|
|and through night into day, is a thing  |
|by no means unprecedented in the South  |
|sea fishery. For such is the wonderful  |
|skill, prescience of experience, and    |
|invincible confidence acquired by       |
|some great natural geniuses among the   |
|Nantucket commanders; that from the     |
|simple observation of a whale when last |
|descried, they will, under certain      |
|given circumstances, pretty accurately  |
|foretell both the direction in which he |
|will continue to swim for a time, while |
|out of sight, as well as his probable   |
|rate of progression during that period. |
|And, in these cases, somewhat as a      |
|pilot, when about losing sight of a     |
|coast, whose general trending he well   |
|knows, and which he desires shortly to  |
|return to again, but at some further    |
|point; like as this pilot stands by his |
|compass, and takes the precise bearing  |
|of the cape at present visible, in order|
|the more certainly to hit aright the    |
|remote, unseen headland, eventually to  |
|be visited: so does the fisherman, at   |
|his compass, with the whale; for after  |
|being chased, and diligently marked,    |
|through several hours of daylight,      |
|then, when night obscures the fish,     |
|the creature's future wake through the  |
|darkness is almost as established to the|
|sagacious mind of the hunter, as the    |
|pilot's coast is to him. So that to this|
|hunter's wondrous skill, the proverbial |
|evanescence of a thing writ in water,   |
|a wake, is to all desired purposes      |
|well nigh as reliable as the steadfast  |
|land. And as the mighty iron Leviathan  |
|of the modern railway is so familiarly  |
|known in its every pace, that, with     |
|watches in their hands, men time his    |
|rate as doctors that of a baby's pulse; |
|and lightly say of it, the up train     |
|or the down train will reach such or    |
|such a spot, at such or such an hour;   |
|even so, almost, there are occasions    |
|when these Nantucketers time that other |
|Leviathan of the deep, according to     |
|the observed humor of his speed; and    |
|say to themselves, so many hours hence  |
|this whale will have gone two hundred   |
|miles, will have about reached this or  |
|that degree of latitude or longitude.   |
|But to render this acuteness at all     |
|successful in the end, the wind and the |
|sea must be the whaleman's allies; for  |
|of what present avail to the becalmed   |
|or windbound mariner is the skill that  |
|assures him he is exactly ninety-three  |
|leagues and a quarter from his port?    |
|Inferable from these statements, are    |
|many collateral subtile matters touching|
|the chase of whales. The ship tore on;  |
|leaving such a furrow in the sea as     |
|when a cannon-ball, missent, becomes    |
|a plough-share and turns up the level   |
|field. "By salt and hemp!" cried Stubb, |
|"but this swift motion of the deck      |
|creeps up one's legs and tingles at the |
|heart. This ship and I are two brave    |
|fellows!--Ha, ha! Some one take me      |
|up, and launch me, spine-wise, on the   |
|sea,--for by live-oaks! my spine's a    |
|keel. Ha, ha! we go the gait that leaves|
|no dust behind!" "There she blows--she  |
|blows!--she blows!--right ahead!" was   |
|now the mast-head cry. "Aye, aye!" cried|
|Stubb, "I knew it--ye can't escape--blow|
|on and split your spout, O whale! the   |
|mad fiend himself is after ye! blow your|
|trump--blister your lungs!--Ahab will   |
|dam off your blood, as a miller shuts   |
|his watergate upon the stream!" And     |
|Stubb did but speak out for well nigh   |
|all that crew. The frenzies of the chase|
|had by this time worked them bubblingly |
|up, like old wine worked anew. Whatever |
|pale fears and forebodings some of them |
|might have felt before; these were not  |
|only now kept out of sight through the  |
|growing awe of Ahab, but they were      |
|broken up, and on all sides routed, as  |
|timid prairie hares that scatter before |
|the bounding bison. The hand of Fate had|
|snatched all their souls; and by the    |
|stirring perils of the previous day;    |
|the rack of the past night's suspense;  |
|the fixed, unfearing, blind, reckless   |
|way in which their wild craft went      |
|plunging towards its flying mark; by all|
|these things, their hearts were bowled  |
|along. The wind that made great bellies |
|of their sails, and rushed the vessel   |
|on by arms invisible as irresistible;   |
|this seemed the symbol of that unseen   |
|agency which so enslaved them to the    |
|race. They were one man, not thirty.    |
|For as the one ship that held them      |
|all; though it was put together of all  |
|contrasting things--oak, and maple,     |
|and pine wood; iron, and pitch, and     |
|hemp--yet all these ran into each other |
|in the one concrete hull, which shot    |
|on its way, both balanced and directed  |
|by the long central keel; even so, all  |
|the individualities of the crew, this   |
|man's valor, that man's fear; guilt and |
|guiltiness, all varieties were welded   |
|into oneness, and were all directed to  |
|that fatal goal which Ahab their one    |
|lord and keel did point to. The rigging |
|lived. The mast-heads, like the tops of |
|tall palms, were outspreadingly tufted  |
|with arms and legs. Clinging to a spar  |
|with one hand, some reached forth the   |
|other with impatient wavings; others,   |
|shading their eyes from the vivid       |
|sunlight, sat far out on the rocking    |
|yards; all the spars in full bearing of |
|mortals, ready and ripe for their fate. |
|Ah! how they still strove through that  |
|infinite blueness to seek out the thing |
|that might destroy them! "Why sing ye   |
|not out for him, if ye see him?" cried  |
|Ahab, when, after the lapse of some     |
|minutes since the first cry, no more had|
|been heard. "Sway me up, men; ye have   |
|been deceived; not Moby Dick casts one  |
|odd jet that way, and then disappears." |
|It was even so; in their headlong       |
|eagerness, the men had mistaken some    |
|other thing for the whale-spout, as the |
|event itself soon proved; for hardly had|
|Ahab reached his perch; hardly was the  |
|rope belayed to its pin on deck, when   |
|he struck the key-note to an orchestra, |
|that made the air vibrate as with the   |
|combined discharges of rifles. The      |
|triumphant halloo of thirty buckskin    |
|lungs was heard, as--much nearer to the |
|ship than the place of the imaginary    |
|jet, less than a mile ahead--Moby Dick  |
|bodily burst into view! For not by any  |
|calm and indolent spoutings; not by the |
|peaceable gush of that mystic fountain  |
|in his head, did the White Whale now    |
|reveal his vicinity; but by the far     |
|more wondrous phenomenon of breaching.  |
|Rising with his utmost velocity from    |
|the furthest depths, the Sperm Whale    |
|thus booms his entire bulk into the pure|
|element of air, and piling up a mountain|
|of dazzling foam, shows his place to    |
|the distance of seven miles and more.   |
|In those moments, the torn, enraged     |
|waves he shakes off, seem his mane; in  |
|some cases, this breaching is his act   |
|of defiance. "There she breaches! there |
|she breaches!" was the cry, as in his   |
|immeasurable bravadoes the White Whale  |
|tossed himself salmon-like to Heaven.   |
|So suddenly seen in the blue plain of   |
|the sea, and relieved against the still |
|bluer margin of the sky, the spray that |
|he raised, for the moment, intolerably  |
|glittered and glared like a glacier; and|
|stood there gradually fading and fading |
|away from its first sparkling intensity,|
|to the dim mistiness of an advancing    |
|shower in a vale. "Aye, breach your last|
|to the sun, Moby Dick!" cried Ahab, "thy|
|hour and thy harpoon are at hand!--Down!|
|down all of ye, but one man at the fore.|
|The boats!--stand by!" Unmindful of the |
|tedious rope-ladders of the shrouds,    |
|the men, like shooting stars, slid to   |
|the deck, by the isolated backstays and |
|halyards; while Ahab, less dartingly,   |
|but still rapidly was dropped from his  |
|perch. "Lower away," he cried, so soon  |
|as he had reached his boat--a spare one,|
|rigged the afternoon previous. "Mr.     |
|Starbuck, the ship is thine--keep away  |
|from the boats, but keep near them.     |
|Lower, all!" As if to strike a quick    |
|terror into them, by this time being the|
|first assailant himself, Moby Dick had  |
|turned, and was now coming for the three|
|crews. Ahab's boat was central; and     |
|cheering his men, he told them he would |
|take the whale head-and-head,--that is, |
|pull straight up to his forehead,--a    |
|not uncommon thing; for when within a   |
|certain limit, such a course excludes   |
|the coming onset from the whale's       |
|sidelong vision. But ere that close     |
|limit was gained, and while yet all     |
|three boats were plain as the ship's    |
|three masts to his eye; the White Whale |
|churning himself into furious speed,    |
|almost in an instant as it were, rushing|
|among the boats with open jaws, and a   |
|lashing tail, offered appalling battle  |
|on every side; and heedless of the      |
|irons darted at him from every boat,    |
|seemed only intent on annihilating each |
|separate plank of which those boats     |
|were made. But skilfully manoeuvred,    |
|incessantly wheeling like trained       |
|chargers in the field; the boats for    |
|a while eluded him; though, at times,   |
|but by a plank's breadth; while all the |
|time, Ahab's unearthly slogan tore every|
|other cry but his to shreds. But at     |
|last in his untraceable evolutions, the |
|White Whale so crossed and recrossed,   |
|and in a thousand ways entangled the    |
|slack of the three lines now fast to    |
|him, that they foreshortened, and, of   |
|themselves, warped the devoted boats    |
|towards the planted irons in him;       |
|though now for a moment the whale drew  |
|aside a little, as if to rally for a    |
|more tremendous charge. Seizing that    |
|opportunity, Ahab first paid out more   |
|line: and then was rapidly hauling      |
|and jerking in upon it again--hoping    |
|that way to disencumber it of some      |
|snarls--when lo!--a sight more savage   |
|than the embattled teeth of sharks!     |
|Caught and twisted--corkscrewed in the  |
|mazes of the line, loose harpoons and   |
|lances, with all their bristling barbs  |
|and points, came flashing and dripping  |
|up to the chocks in the bows of Ahab's  |
|boat. Only one thing could be done.     |
|Seizing the boat-knife, he critically   |
|reached within--through--and then,      |
|without--the rays of steel; dragged in  |
|the line beyond, passed it, inboard, to |
|the bowsman, and then, twice sundering  |
|the rope near the chocks--dropped the   |
|intercepted fagot of steel into the     |
|sea; and was all fast again. That       |
|instant, the White Whale made a sudden  |
|rush among the remaining tangles of the |
|other lines; by so doing, irresistibly  |
|dragged the more involved boats of      |
|Stubb and Flask towards his flukes;     |
|dashed them together like two rolling   |
|husks on a surf-beaten beach, and then, |
|diving down into the sea, disappeared   |
|in a boiling maelstrom, in which, for a |
|space, the odorous cedar chips of the   |
|wrecks danced round and round, like     |
|the grated nutmeg in a swiftly stirred  |
|bowl of punch. While the two crews were |
|yet circling in the waters, reaching    |
|out after the revolving line-tubs,      |
|oars, and other floating furniture,     |
|while aslope little Flask bobbed up     |
|and down like an empty vial, twitching  |
|his legs upwards to escape the dreaded  |
|jaws of sharks; and Stubb was lustily   |
|singing out for some one to ladle him   |
|up; and while the old man's line--now   |
|parting--admitted of his pulling into   |
|the creamy pool to rescue whom he       |
|could;--in that wild simultaneousness   |
|of a thousand concreted perils,--Ahab's |
|yet unstricken boat seemed drawn up     |
|towards Heaven by invisible wires,--as, |
|arrow-like, shooting perpendicularly    |
|from the sea, the White Whale dashed his|
|broad forehead against its bottom, and  |
|sent it, turning over and over, into    |
|the air; till it fell again--gunwale    |
|downwards--and Ahab and his men         |
|struggled out from under it, like seals |
|from a sea-side cave. The first uprising|
|momentum of the whale--modifying        |
|its direction as he struck the          |
|surface--involuntarily launched him     |
|along it, to a little distance from the |
|centre of the destruction he had made;  |
|and with his back to it, he now lay     |
|for a moment slowly feeling with his    |
|flukes from side to side; and whenever  |
|a stray oar, bit of plank, the least    |
|chip or crumb of the boats touched his  |
|skin, his tail swiftly drew back, and   |
|came sideways smiting the sea. But      |
|soon, as if satisfied that his work     |
|for that time was done, he pushed his   |
|pleated forehead through the ocean, and |
|trailing after him the intertangled     |
|lines, continued his leeward way at a   |
|traveller's methodic pace. As before,   |
|the attentive ship having descried the  |
|whole fight, again came bearing down to |
|the rescue, and dropping a boat, picked |
|up the floating mariners, tubs, oars,   |
|and whatever else could be caught at,   |
|and safely landed them on her decks.    |
|Some sprained shoulders, wrists, and    |
|ankles; livid contusions; wrenched      |
|harpoons and lances; inextricable       |
|intricacies of rope; shattered oars     |
|and planks; all these were there; but   |
|no fatal or even serious ill seemed to  |
|have befallen any one. As with Fedallah |
|the day before, so Ahab was now found   |
|grimly clinging to his boat's broken    |
|half, which afforded a comparatively    |
|easy float; nor did it so exhaust him   |
|as the previous day's mishap. But when  |
|he was helped to the deck, all eyes     |
|were fastened upon him; as instead of   |
|standing by himself he still half-hung  |
|upon the shoulder of Starbuck, who had  |
|thus far been the foremost to assist    |
|him. His ivory leg had been snapped off,|
|leaving but one short sharp splinter.   |
|"Aye, aye, Starbuck, 'tis sweet to      |
|lean sometimes, be the leaner who he    |
|will; and would old Ahab had leaned     |
|oftener than he has." "The ferrule has  |
|not stood, sir," said the carpenter,    |
|now coming up; "I put good work into    |
|that leg." "But no bones broken, sir,   |
|I hope," said Stubb with true concern.  |
|"Aye! and all splintered to pieces,     |
|Stubb!--d'ye see it.--But even with a   |
|broken bone, old Ahab is untouched; and |
|I account no living bone of mine one jot|
|more me, than this dead one that's lost.|
|Nor white whale, nor man, nor fiend, can|
|so much as graze old Ahab in his own    |
|proper and inaccessible being. Can any  |
|lead touch yonder floor, any mast scrape|
|yonder roof?--Aloft there! which way?"  |
|"Dead to leeward, sir." "Up helm, then; |
|pile on the sail again, ship keepers!   |
|down the rest of the spare boats and rig|
|them--Mr. Starbuck away, and muster the |
|boat's crews." "Let me first help thee  |
|towards the bulwarks, sir." "Oh, oh, oh!|
|how this splinter gores me now! Accursed|
|fate! that the unconquerable captain    |
|in the soul should have such a craven   |
|mate!" "Sir?" "My body, man, not thee.  |
|Give me something for a cane--there,    |
|that shivered lance will do. Muster the |
|men. Surely I have not seen him yet. By |
|heaven it cannot be!--missing?--quick!  |
|call them all." The old man's hinted    |
|thought was true. Upon mustering the    |
|company, the Parsee was not there. "The |
|Parsee!" cried Stubb--"he must have been|
|caught in--" "The black vomit wrench    |
|thee!--run all of ye above, alow, cabin,|
|forecastle--find him--not gone--not     |
|gone!" But quickly they returned to     |
|him with the tidings that the Parsee    |
|was nowhere to be found. "Aye, sir,"    |
|said Stubb--"caught among the tangles   |
|of your line--I thought I saw him       |
|dragging under." "MY line! MY line?     |
|Gone?--gone? What means that little     |
|word?--What death-knell rings in it,    |
|that old Ahab shakes as if he were the  |
|belfry. The harpoon, too!--toss over the|
|litter there,--d'ye see it?--the forged |
|iron, men, the white whale's--no, no,   |
|no,--blistered fool! this hand did dart |
|it!--'tis in the fish!--Aloft there!    |
|Keep him nailed--Quick!--all hands      |
|to the rigging of the boats--collect    |
|the oars--harpooneers! the irons, the   |
|irons!--hoist the royals higher--a      |
|pull on all the sheets!--helm there!    |
|steady, steady for your life! I'll ten  |
|times girdle the unmeasured globe; yea  |
|and dive straight through it, but I'll  |
|slay him yet! "Great God! but for one   |
|single instant show thyself," cried     |
|Starbuck; "never, never wilt thou       |
|capture him, old man--In Jesus' name no |
|more of this, that's worse than devil's |
|madness. Two days chased; twice stove   |
|to splinters; thy very leg once more    |
|snatched from under thee; thy evil      |
|shadow gone--all good angels mobbing    |
|thee with warnings:-- what more wouldst |
|thou have?--Shall we keep chasing this  |
|murderous fish till he swamps the last  |
|man? Shall we be dragged by him to the  |
|bottom of the sea? Shall we be towed    |
|by him to the infernal world? Oh,       |
|oh,--Impiety and blasphemy to hunt him  |
|more!" "Starbuck, of late I've felt     |
|strangely moved to thee; ever since     |
|that hour we both saw--thou know'st     |
|what, in one another's eyes. But in     |
|this matter of the whale, be the front  |
|of thy face to me as the palm of this   |
|hand--a lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab |
|is for ever Ahab, man. This whole act's |
|immutably decreed. 'Twas rehearsed by   |
|thee and me a billion years before this |
|ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates'     |
|lieutenant; I act under orders. Look    |
|thou, underling! that thou obeyest      |
|mine.--Stand round me, men. Ye see an   |
|old man cut down to the stump; leaning  |
|on a shivered lance; propped up on a    |
|lonely foot. 'Tis Ahab--his body's      |
|part; but Ahab's soul's a centipede,    |
|that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel  |
|strained, half stranded, as ropes that  |
|tow dismasted frigates in a gale;       |
|and I may look so. But ere I break,     |
|yell hear me crack; and till ye hear    |
|THAT, know that Ahab's hawser tows his  |
|purpose yet. Believe ye, men, in the    |
|things called omens? Then laugh aloud,  |
|and cry encore! For ere they drown,     |
|drowning things will twice rise to      |
|the surface; then rise again, to sink   |
|for evermore. So with Moby Dick--two    |
|days he's floated--tomorrow will be     |
|the third. Aye, men, he'll rise once    |
|more,--but only to spout his last! D'ye |
|feel brave men, brave?" "As fearless    |
|fire," cried Stubb. "And as mechanical,"|
|muttered Ahab. Then as the men went     |
|forward, he muttered on: "The things    |
|called omens! And yesterday I talked    |
|the same to Starbuck there, concerning  |
|my broken boat. Oh! how valiantly I     |
|seek to drive out of others' hearts     |
|what's clinched so fast in mine!--The   |
|Parsee--the Parsee!--gone, gone? and he |
|was to go before:--but still was to be  |
|seen again ere I could perish--How's    |
|that?--There's a riddle now might baffle|
|all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of |
|the whole line of judges:--like a hawk's|
|beak it pecks my brain. I'LL, I'LL solve|
|it, though!" When dusk descended, the   |
|whale was still in sight to leeward.    |
|So once more the sail was shortened,    |
|and everything passed nearly as on the  |
|previous night; only, the sound of      |
|hammers, and the hum of the grindstone  |
|was heard till nearly daylight, as the  |
|men toiled by lanterns in the complete  |
|and careful rigging of the spare boats  |
|and sharpening their fresh weapons for  |
|the morrow. Meantime, of the broken keel|
|of Ahab's wrecked craft the carpenter   |
|made him another leg; while still as on |
|the night before, slouched Ahab stood   |
|fixed within his scuttle; his hid,      |
|heliotrope glance anticipatingly gone   |
|backward on its dial; sat due eastward  |
|for the earliest sun. The morning of    |
|the third day dawned fair and fresh,    |
|and once more the solitary night-man    |
|at the fore-mast-head was relieved by   |
|crowds of the daylight look-outs, who   |
|dotted every mast and almost every      |
|spar. "D'ye see him?" cried Ahab; but   |
|the whale was not yet in sight. "In his |
|infallible wake, though; but follow that|
|wake, that's all. Helm there; steady, as|
|thou goest, and hast been going. What   |
|a lovely day again! were it a new-made  |
|world, and made for a summer-house to   |
|the angels, and this morning the first  |
|of its throwing open to them, a fairer  |
|day could not dawn upon that world.     |
|Here's food for thought, had Ahab time  |
|to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only|
|feels, feels, feels; THAT'S tingling    |
|enough for mortal man! to think's       |
|audacity. God only has that right and   |
|privilege. Thinking is, or ought to     |
|be, a coolness and a calmness; and our  |
|poor hearts throb, and our poor brains  |
|beat too much for that. And yet, I've   |
|sometimes thought my brain was very     |
|calm--frozen calm, this old skull cracks|
|so, like a glass in which the contents  |
|turned to ice, and shiver it. And still |
|this hair is growing now; this moment   |
|growing, and heat must breed it; but no,|
|it's like that sort of common grass that|
|will grow anywhere, between the earthy  |
|clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius  |
|lava. How the wild winds blow it; they  |
|whip it about me as the torn shreds of  |
|split sails lash the tossed ship they   |
|cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt |
|blown ere this through prison corridors |
|and cells, and wards of hospitals, and  |
|ventilated them, and now comes blowing  |
|hither as innocent as fleeces. Out upon |
|it!--it's tainted. Were I the wind, I'd |
|blow no more on such a wicked, miserable|
|world. I'd crawl somewhere to a cave,   |
|and slink there. And yet, 'tis a noble  |
|and heroic thing, the wind! who ever    |
|conquered it? In every fight it has the |
|last and bitterest blow. Run tilting    |
|at it, and you but run through it. Ha!  |
|a coward wind that strikes stark naked  |
|men, but will not stand to receive a    |
|single blow. Even Ahab is a braver      |
|thing--a nobler thing than THAT. Would  |
|now the wind but had a body; but all    |
|the things that most exasperate and     |
|outrage mortal man, all these things are|
|bodiless, but only bodiless as objects, |
|not as agents. There's a most special,  |
|a most cunning, oh, a most malicious    |
|difference! And yet, I say again, and   |
|swear it now, that there's something    |
|all glorious and gracious in the wind.  |
|These warm Trade Winds, at least, that  |
|in the clear heavens blow straight      |
|on, in strong and steadfast, vigorous   |
|mildness; and veer not from their mark, |
|however the baser currents of the       |
|sea may turn and tack, and mightiest    |
|Mississippies of the land swift and     |
|swerve about, uncertain where to go at  |
|last. And by the eternal Poles! these   |
|same Trades that so directly blow my    |
|good ship on; these Trades, or something|
|like them--something so unchangeable,   |
|and full as strong, blow my keeled soul |
|along! To it! Aloft there! What d'ye    |
|see?" "Nothing, sir." "Nothing! and noon|
|at hand! The doubloon goes a-begging!   |
|See the sun! Aye, aye, it must be so.   |
|I've oversailed him. How, got the       |
|start? Aye, he's chasing ME now; not    |
|I, HIM--that's bad; I might have known  |
|it, too. Fool! the lines--the harpoons  |
|he's towing. Aye, aye, I have run him   |
|by last night. About! about! Come down, |
|all of ye, but the regular look outs!   |
|Man the braces!" Steering as she had    |
|done, the wind had been somewhat on the |
|Pequod's quarter, so that now being     |
|pointed in the reverse direction, the   |
|braced ship sailed hard upon the breeze |
|as she rechurned the cream in her own   |
|white wake. "Against the wind he now    |
|steers for the open jaw," murmured      |
|Starbuck to himself, as he coiled the   |
|new-hauled main-brace upon the rail.    |
|"God keep us, but already my bones feel |
|damp within me, and from the inside wet |
|my flesh. I misdoubt me that I disobey  |
|my God in obeying him!" "Stand by to    |
|sway me up!" cried Ahab, advancing to   |
|the hempen basket. "We should meet him  |
|soon." "Aye, aye, sir," and straightway |
|Starbuck did Ahab's bidding, and once   |
|more Ahab swung on high. A whole hour   |
|now passed; gold-beaten out to ages.    |
|Time itself now held long breaths       |
|with keen suspense. But at last, some   |
|three points off the weather bow, Ahab  |
|descried the spout again, and instantly |
|from the three mast-heads three shrieks |
|went up as if the tongues of fire       |
|had voiced it. "Forehead to forehead    |
|I meet thee, this third time, Moby      |
|Dick! On deck there!--brace sharper     |
|up; crowd her into the wind's eye.      |
|He's too far off to lower yet, Mr.      |
|Starbuck. The sails shake! Stand over   |
|that helmsman with a top-maul! So, so;  |
|he travels fast, and I must down. But   |
|let me have one more good round look    |
|aloft here at the sea; there's time     |
|for that. An old, old sight, and yet    |
|somehow so young; aye, and not changed  |
|a wink since I first saw it, a boy,     |
|from the sand-hills of Nantucket! The   |
|same!--the same!--the same to Noah as to|
|me. There's a soft shower to leeward.   |
|Such lovely leewardings! They must      |
|lead somewhere--to something else than  |
|common land, more palmy than the palms. |
|Leeward! the white whale goes that way; |
|look to windward, then; the better if   |
|the bitterer quarter. But good bye, good|
|bye, old mast-head! What's this?--green?|
|aye, tiny mosses in these warped cracks.|
|No such green weather stains on Ahab's  |
|head! There's the difference now between|
|man's old age and matter's. But aye, old|
|mast, we both grow old together; sound  |
|in our hulls, though, are we not, my    |
|ship? Aye, minus a leg, that's all. By  |
|heaven this dead wood has the better of |
|my live flesh every way. I can't compare|
|with it; and I've known some ships      |
|made of dead trees outlast the lives    |
|of men made of the most vital stuff of  |
|vital fathers. What's that he said? he  |
|should still go before me, my pilot;    |
|and yet to be seen again? But where?    |
|Will I have eyes at the bottom of the   |
|sea, supposing I descend those endless  |
|stairs? and all night I've been sailing |
|from him, wherever he did sink to. Aye, |
|aye, like many more thou told'st direful|
|truth as touching thyself, O Parsee;    |
|but, Ahab, there thy shot fell short.   |
|Good-bye, mast-head--keep a good eye    |
|upon the whale, the while I'm gone.     |
|We'll talk to-morrow, nay, to-night,    |
|when the white whale lies down there,   |
|tied by head and tail." He gave the     |
|word; and still gazing round him, was   |
|steadily lowered through the cloven     |
|blue air to the deck. In due time the   |
|boats were lowered; but as standing     |
|in his shallop's stern, Ahab just       |
|hovered upon the point of the descent,  |
|he waved to the mate,--who held one     |
|of the tackle-ropes on deck--and bade   |
|him pause. "Starbuck!" "Sir?" "For the  |
|third time my soul's ship starts upon   |
|this voyage, Starbuck." "Aye, sir, thou |
|wilt have it so." "Some ships sail from |
|their ports, and ever afterwards are    |
|missing, Starbuck!" "Truth, sir: saddest|
|truth." "Some men die at ebb tide; some |
|at low water; some at the full of the   |
|flood;--and I feel now like a billow    |
|that's all one crested comb, Starbuck.  |
|I am old;--shake hands with me, man."   |
|Their hands met; their eyes fastened;   |
|Starbuck's tears the glue. "Oh, my      |
|captain, my captain!--noble heart--go   |
|not--go not!--see, it's a brave man     |
|that weeps; how great the agony of the  |
|persuasion then!" "Lower away!"--cried  |
|Ahab, tossing the mate's arm from him.  |
|"Stand by the crew!" In an instant the  |
|boat was pulling round close under the  |
|stern. "The sharks! the sharks!" cried a|
|voice from the low cabin-window there;  |
|"O master, my master, come back!" But   |
|Ahab heard nothing; for his own voice   |
|was high-lifted then; and the boat      |
|leaped on. Yet the voice spake true; for|
|scarce had he pushed from the ship, when|
|numbers of sharks, seemingly rising from|
|out the dark waters beneath the hull,   |
|maliciously snapped at the blades of    |
|the oars, every time they dipped in the |
|water; and in this way accompanied the  |
|boat with their bites. It is a thing not|
|uncommonly happening to the whale-boats |
|in those swarming seas; the sharks at   |
|times apparently following them in the  |
|same prescient way that vultures hover  |
|over the banners of marching regiments  |
|in the east. But these were the first   |
|sharks that had been observed by the    |
|Pequod since the White Whale had been   |
|first descried; and whether it was that |
|Ahab's crew were all such tiger-yellow  |
|barbarians, and therefore their flesh   |
|more musky to the senses of the         |
|sharks--a matter sometimes well known   |
|to affect them,--however it was, they   |
|seemed to follow that one boat without  |
|molesting the others. "Heart of wrought |
|steel!" murmured Starbuck gazing over   |
|the side, and following with his eyes   |
|the receding boat--"canst thou yet ring |
|boldly to that sight?--lowering thy keel|
|among ravening sharks, and followed     |
|by them, open-mouthed to the chase;     |
|and this the critical third day?--For   |
|when three days flow together in one    |
|continuous intense pursuit; be sure     |
|the first is the morning, the second    |
|the noon, and the third the evening     |
|and the end of that thing--be that end  |
|what it may. Oh! my God! what is this   |
|that shoots through me, and leaves me   |
|so deadly calm, yet expectant,--fixed   |
|at the top of a shudder! Future things  |
|swim before me, as in empty outlines    |
|and skeletons; all the past is somehow  |
|grown dim. Mary, girl! thou fadest in   |
|pale glories behind me; boy! I seem     |
|to see but thy eyes grown wondrous      |
|blue. Strangest problems of life seem   |
|clearing; but clouds sweep between--Is  |
|my journey's end coming? My legs feel   |
|faint; like his who has footed it all   |
|day. Feel thy heart,--beats it yet?     |
|Stir thyself, Starbuck!--stave it       |
|off--move, move! speak aloud!--Mast-head|
|there! See ye my boy's hand on the      |
|hill?--Crazed;--aloft there!--keep thy  |
|keenest eye upon the boats:-- mark      |
|well the whale!--Ho! again!--drive off  |
|that hawk! see! he pecks--he tears      |
|the vane"--pointing to the red flag     |
|flying at the main-truck--"Ha! he       |
|soars away with it!--Where's the old    |
|man now? see'st thou that sight, oh     |
|Ahab!--shudder, shudder!" The boats had |
|not gone very far, when by a signal from|
|the mast-heads--a downward pointed arm, |
|Ahab knew that the whale had sounded;   |
|but intending to be near him at the next|
|rising, he held on his way a little     |
|sideways from the vessel; the becharmed |
|crew maintaining the profoundest        |
|silence, as the head-beat waves hammered|
|and hammered against the opposing bow.  |
|"Drive, drive in your nails, oh ye      |
|waves! to their uttermost heads drive   |
|them in! ye but strike a thing without  |
|a lid; and no coffin and no hearse can  |
|be mine:--and hemp only can kill me! Ha!|
|ha!" Suddenly the waters around them    |
|slowly swelled in broad circles; then   |
|quickly upheaved, as if sideways sliding|
|from a submerged berg of ice, swiftly   |
|rising to the surface. A low rumbling   |
|sound was heard; a subterraneous hum;   |
|and then all held their breaths; as     |
|bedraggled with trailing ropes, and     |
|harpoons, and lances, a vast form shot  |
|lengthwise, but obliquely from the sea. |
|Shrouded in a thin drooping veil of     |
|mist, it hovered for a moment in the    |
|rainbowed air; and then fell swamping   |
|back into the deep. Crushed thirty feet |
|upwards, the waters flashed for an      |
|instant like heaps of fountains, then   |
|brokenly sank in a shower of flakes,    |
|leaving the circling surface creamed    |
|like new milk round the marble trunk    |
|of the whale. "Give way!" cried Ahab    |
|to the oarsmen, and the boats darted    |
|forward to the attack; but maddened by  |
|yesterday's fresh irons that corroded   |
|in him, Moby Dick seemed combinedly     |
|possessed by all the angels that fell   |
|from heaven. The wide tiers of welded   |
|tendons overspreading his broad white   |
|forehead, beneath the transparent skin, |
|looked knitted together; as head on,    |
|he came churning his tail among the     |
|boats; and once more flailed them apart;|
|spilling out the irons and lances from  |
|the two mates' boats, and dashing in    |
|one side of the upper part of their     |
|bows, but leaving Ahab's almost without |
|a scar. While Daggoo and Queequeg were  |
|stopping the strained planks; and as    |
|the whale swimming out from them,       |
|turned, and showed one entire flank as  |
|he shot by them again; at that moment   |
|a quick cry went up. Lashed round and   |
|round to the fish's back; pinioned in   |
|the turns upon turns in which, during   |
|the past night, the whale had reeled    |
|the involutions of the lines around     |
|him, the half torn body of the Parsee   |
|was seen; his sable raiment frayed to   |
|shreds; his distended eyes turned full  |
|upon old Ahab. The harpoon dropped from |
|his hand. "Befooled, befooled!"--drawing|
|in a long lean breath--"Aye, Parsee! I  |
|see thee again.--Aye, and thou goest    |
|before; and this, THIS then is the      |
|hearse that thou didst promise. But I   |
|hold thee to the last letter of thy     |
|word. Where is the second hearse? Away, |
|mates, to the ship! those boats are     |
|useless now; repair them if ye can in   |
|time, and return to me; if not, Ahab    |
|is enough to die--Down, men! the first  |
|thing that but offers to jump from this |
|boat I stand in, that thing I harpoon.  |
|Ye are not other men, but my arms and   |
|my legs; and so obey me.--Where's the   |
|whale? gone down again?" But he looked  |
|too nigh the boat; for as if bent upon  |
|escaping with the corpse he bore, and   |
|as if the particular place of the last  |
|encounter had been but a stage in his   |
|leeward voyage, Moby Dick was now again |
|steadily swimming forward; and had      |
|almost passed the ship,--which thus     |
|far had been sailing in the contrary    |
|direction to him, though for the present|
|her headway had been stopped. He seemed |
|swimming with his utmost velocity, and  |
|now only intent upon pursuing his own   |
|straight path in the sea. "Oh! Ahab,"   |
|cried Starbuck, "not too late is it,    |
|even now, the third day, to desist. See!|
|Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou,   |
|thou, that madly seekest him!" Setting  |
|sail to the rising wind, the lonely boat|
|was swiftly impelled to leeward, by both|
|oars and canvas. And at last when Ahab  |
|was sliding by the vessel, so near as   |
|plainly to distinguish Starbuck's face  |
|as he leaned over the rail, he hailed   |
|him to turn the vessel about, and follow|
|him, not too swiftly, at a judicious    |
|interval. Glancing upwards, he saw      |
|Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo, eagerly |
|mounting to the three mast-heads; while |
|the oarsmen were rocking in the two     |
|staved boats which had but just been    |
|hoisted to the side, and were busily at |
|work in repairing them. One after the   |
|other, through the port-holes, as he    |
|sped, he also caught flying glimpses    |
|of Stubb and Flask, busying themselves  |
|on deck among bundles of new irons and  |
|lances. As he saw all this; as he heard |
|the hammers in the broken boats; far    |
|other hammers seemed driving a nail     |
|into his heart. But he rallied. And now |
|marking that the vane or flag was gone  |
|from the main-mast-head, he shouted     |
|to Tashtego, who had just gained that   |
|perch, to descend again for another     |
|flag, and a hammer and nails, and so    |
|nail it to the mast. Whether fagged     |
|by the three days' running chase, and   |
|the resistance to his swimming in the   |
|knotted hamper he bore; or whether it   |
|was some latent deceitfulness and malice|
|in him: whichever was true, the White   |
|Whale's way now began to abate, as it   |
|seemed, from the boat so rapidly nearing|
|him once more; though indeed the whale's|
|last start had not been so long a one   |
|as before. And still as Ahab glided     |
|over the waves the unpitying sharks     |
|accompanied him; and so pertinaciously  |
|stuck to the boat; and so continually   |
|bit at the plying oars, that the blades |
|became jagged and crunched, and left    |
|small splinters in the sea, at almost   |
|every dip. "Heed them not! those teeth  |
|but give new rowlocks to your oars. Pull|
|on! 'tis the better rest, the shark's   |
|jaw than the yielding water." "But at   |
|every bite, sir, the thin blades grow   |
|smaller and smaller!" "They will last   |
|long enough! pull on!--But who can      |
|tell"--he muttered--"whether these      |
|sharks swim to feast on the whale or    |
|on Ahab?--But pull on! Aye, all alive,  |
|now--we near him. The helm! take the    |
|helm! let me pass,"--and so saying two  |
|of the oarsmen helped him forward to the|
|bows of the still flying boat. At length|
|as the craft was cast to one side, and  |
|ran ranging along with the White Whale's|
|flank, he seemed strangely oblivious    |
|of its advance--as the whale sometimes  |
|will--and Ahab was fairly within the    |
|smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off  |
|from the whale's spout, curled round    |
|his great, Monadnock hump; he was even  |
|thus close to him; when, with body      |
|arched back, and both arms lengthwise   |
|high-lifted to the poise, he darted his |
|fierce iron, and his far fiercer curse  |
|into the hated whale. As both steel     |
|and curse sank to the socket, as if     |
|sucked into a morass, Moby Dick sideways|
|writhed; spasmodically rolled his nigh  |
|flank against the bow, and, without     |
|staving a hole in it, so suddenly canted|
|the boat over, that had it not been for |
|the elevated part of the gunwale to     |
|which he then clung, Ahab would once    |
|more have been tossed into the sea.     |
|As it was, three of the oarsmen--who    |
|foreknew not the precise instant of the |
|dart, and were therefore unprepared for |
|its effects--these were flung out; but  |
|so fell, that, in an instant two of them|
|clutched the gunwale again, and rising  |
|to its level on a combing wave, hurled  |
|themselves bodily inboard again; the    |
|third man helplessly dropping astern,   |
|but still afloat and swimming. Almost   |
|simultaneously, with a mighty volition  |
|of ungraduated, instantaneous swiftness,|
|the White Whale darted through the      |
|weltering sea. But when Ahab cried out  |
|to the steersman to take new turns with |
|the line, and hold it so; and commanded |
|the crew to turn round on their seats,  |
|and tow the boat up to the mark; the    |
|moment the treacherous line felt that   |
|double strain and tug, it snapped in    |
|the empty air! "What breaks in me? Some |
|sinew cracks!--'tis whole again; oars!  |
|oars! Burst in upon him!" Hearing the   |
|tremendous rush of the sea-crashing     |
|boat, the whale wheeled round to        |
|present his blank forehead at bay; but  |
|in that evolution, catching sight of    |
|the nearing black hull of the ship;     |
|seemingly seeing in it the source of    |
|all his persecutions; bethinking it--it |
|may be--a larger and nobler foe; of a   |
|sudden, he bore down upon its advancing |
|prow, smiting his jaws amid fiery       |
|showers of foam. Ahab staggered; his    |
|hand smote his forehead. "I grow blind; |
|hands! stretch out before me that I may |
|yet grope my way. Is't night?" "The     |
|whale! The ship!" cried the cringing    |
|oarsmen. "Oars! oars! Slope downwards   |
|to thy depths, O sea, that ere it be    |
|for ever too late, Ahab may slide this  |
|last, last time upon his mark! I see:   |
|the ship! the ship! Dash on, my men!    |
|Will ye not save my ship?" But as the   |
|oarsmen violently forced their boat     |
|through the sledge-hammering seas, the  |
|before whale-smitten bow-ends of two    |
|planks burst through, and in an instant |
|almost, the temporarily disabled boat   |
|lay nearly level with the waves; its    |
|half-wading, splashing crew, trying     |
|hard to stop the gap and bale out the   |
|pouring water. Meantime, for that one   |
|beholding instant, Tashtego's mast-head |
|hammer remained suspended in his hand;  |
|and the red flag, half-wrapping him     |
|as with a plaid, then streamed itself   |
|straight out from him, as his own       |
|forward-flowing heart; while Starbuck   |
|and Stubb, standing upon the bowsprit   |
|beneath, caught sight of the down-coming|
|monster just as soon as he. "The whale, |
|the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye |
|sweet powers of air, now hug me close!  |
|Let not Starbuck die, if die he must,   |
|in a woman's fainting fit. Up helm, I   |
|say--ye fools, the jaw! the jaw! Is this|
|the end of all my bursting prayers? all |
|my life-long fidelities? Oh, Ahab, Ahab,|
|lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman, steady. |
|Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to    |
|meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow      |
|drives on towards one, whose duty tells |
|him he cannot depart. My God, stand by  |
|me now!" "Stand not by me, but stand    |
|under me, whoever you are that will now |
|help Stubb; for Stubb, too, sticks here.|
|I grin at thee, thou grinning whale!    |
|Who ever helped Stubb, or kept Stubb    |
|awake, but Stubb's own unwinking eye?   |
|And now poor Stubb goes to bed upon a   |
|mattrass that is all too soft; would it |
|were stuffed with brushwood! I grin at  |
|thee, thou grinning whale! Look ye, sun,|
|moon, and stars! I call ye assassins    |
|of as good a fellow as ever spouted up  |
|his ghost. For all that, I would yet    |
|ring glasses with ye, would ye but hand |
|the cup! Oh, oh! oh, oh! thou grinning  |
|whale, but there'll be plenty of gulping|
|soon! Why fly ye not, O Ahab! For me,   |
|off shoes and jacket to it; let Stubb   |
|die in his drawers! A most mouldy and   |
|over salted death, though;--cherries!   |
|cherries! cherries! Oh, Flask, for one  |
|red cherry ere we die!" "Cherries? I    |
|only wish that we were where they grow. |
|Oh, Stubb, I hope my poor mother's      |
|drawn my part-pay ere this; if not, few |
|coppers will now come to her, for the   |
|voyage is up." From the ship's bows,    |
|nearly all the seamen now hung inactive;|
|hammers, bits of plank, lances, and     |
|harpoons, mechanically retained in      |
|their hands, just as they had darted    |
|from their various employments; all     |
|their enchanted eyes intent upon the    |
|whale, which from side to side strangely|
|vibrating his predestinating head,      |
|sent a broad band of overspreading      |
|semicircular foam before him as he      |
|rushed. Retribution, swift vengeance,   |
|eternal malice were in his whole aspect,|
|and spite of all that mortal man could  |
|do, the solid white buttress of his     |
|forehead smote the ship's starboard bow,|
|till men and timbers reeled. Some fell  |
|flat upon their faces. Like dislodged   |
|trucks, the heads of the harpooneers    |
|aloft shook on their bull-like necks.   |
|Through the breach, they heard the      |
|waters pour, as mountain torrents down  |
|a flume. "The ship! The hearse!--the    |
|second hearse!" cried Ahab from the     |
|boat; "its wood could only be American!"|
|Diving beneath the settling ship, the   |
|whale ran quivering along its keel; but |
|turning under water, swiftly shot to the|
|surface again, far off the other bow,   |
|but within a few yards of Ahab's boat,  |
|where, for a time, he lay quiescent.    |
|"I turn my body from the sun. What ho,  |
|Tashtego! let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye|
|three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou|
|uncracked keel; and only god-bullied    |
|hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, |
|and Pole-pointed prow,--death-glorious  |
|ship! must ye then perish, and without  |
|me? Am I cut off from the last fond     |
|pride of meanest shipwrecked captains?  |
|Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh,    |
|now I feel my topmost greatness lies in |
|my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your |
|furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold|
|billows of my whole foregone life, and  |
|top this one piled comber of my death!  |
|Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying|
|but unconquering whale; to the last I   |
|grapple with thee; from hell's heart I  |
|stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my |
|last breath at thee. Sink all coffins   |
|and all hearses to one common pool!     |
|and since neither can be mine, let me   |
|then tow to pieces, while still chasing |
|thee, though tied to thee, thou damned  |
|whale! THUS, I give up the spear!" The  |
|harpoon was darted; the stricken whale  |
|flew forward; with igniting velocity    |
|the line ran through the grooves;--ran  |
|foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did  |
|clear it; but the flying turn caught    |
|him round the neck, and voicelessly as  |
|Turkish mutes bowstring their victim,   |
|he was shot out of the boat, ere the    |
|crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the|
|heavy eye-splice in the rope's final    |
|end flew out of the stark-empty tub,    |
|knocked down an oarsman, and smiting    |
|the sea, disappeared in its depths. For |
|an instant, the tranced boat's crew     |
|stood still; then turned. "The ship?    |
|Great God, where is the ship?" Soon     |
|they through dim, bewildering mediums   |
|saw her sidelong fading phantom, as     |
|in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the   |
|uppermost masts out of water; while     |
|fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or   |
|fate, to their once lofty perches, the  |
|pagan harpooneers still maintained      |
|their sinking lookouts on the sea. And  |
|now, concentric circles seized the lone |
|boat itself, and all its crew, and each |
|floating oar, and every lance-pole, and |
|spinning, animate and inanimate, all    |
|round and round in one vortex, carried  |
|the smallest chip of the Pequod out     |
|of sight. But as the last whelmings     |
|intermixingly poured themselves over    |
|the sunken head of the Indian at the    |
|mainmast, leaving a few inches of the   |
|erect spar yet visible, together with   |
|long streaming yards of the flag,       |
|which calmly undulated, with ironical   |
|coincidings, over the destroying billows|
|they almost touched;--at that instant, a|
|red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly |
|uplifted in the open air, in the act of |
|nailing the flag faster and yet faster  |
|to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that  |
|tauntingly had followed the main-truck  |
|downwards from its natural home among   |
|the stars, pecking at the flag, and     |
|incommoding Tashtego there; this bird   |
|now chanced to intercept its broad      |
|fluttering wing between the hammer and  |
|the wood; and simultaneously feeling    |
|that etherial thrill, the submerged     |
|savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept |
|his hammer frozen there; and so the bird|
|of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and|
|his imperial beak thrust upwards, and   |
|his whole captive form folded in the    |
|flag of Ahab, went down with his ship,  |
|which, like Satan, would not sink to    |
|hell till she had dragged a living part |
|of heaven along with her, and helmeted  |
|herself with it. Now small fowls flew   |
|screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a  |
|sullen white surf beat against its steep|
|sides; then all collapsed, and the great|
|shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled|
|five thousand years ago. Epilogue "AND I|
|ONLY AM ESCAPED ALONE TO TELL THEE" Job.|
|The drama's done. Why then here does any|
|one step forth?--Because one did survive|
|the wreck. It so chanced, that after the|
|Parsee's disappearance, I was he whom   |
|the Fates ordained to take the place    |
|of Ahab's bowsman, when that bowsman    |
|assumed the vacant post; the same, who, |
|when on the last day the three men were |
|tossed from out of the rocking boat,    |
|was dropped astern. So, floating on the |
|margin of the ensuing scene, and in     |
|full sight of it, when the halfspent    |
|suction of the sunk ship reached me, I  |
|was then, but slowly, drawn towards the |
|closing vortex. When I reached it, it   |
|had subsided to a creamy pool. Round    |
|and round, then, and ever contracting   |
|towards the button-like black bubble at |
|the axis of that slowly wheeling circle,|
|like another Ixion I did revolve. Till, |
|gaining that vital centre, the black    |
|bubble upward burst; and now, liberated |
|by reason of its cunning spring, and,   |
|owing to its great buoyancy, rising with|
|great force, the coffin life-buoy shot  |
|lengthwise from the sea, fell over, and |
|floated by my side. Buoyed up by that   |
|coffin, for almost one whole day and    |
|night, I floated on a soft and dirgelike|
|main. The unharming sharks, they glided |
|by as if with padlocks on their mouths; |
|the savage sea-hawks sailed with        |
|sheathed beaks. On the second day, a    |
|sail drew near, nearer, and picked me   |
|up at last. It was the devious-cruising |
|Rachel, that in her retracing search    |
|after her missing children, only found  |
|another orphan.                         |
+----------------------------------------+