The Forge

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.

Around midday, Perth stood between his forge and anvil, his beard matted and a bristling sharkskin apron wrapped around him. The anvil stood on an ironwood log. With one hand, he held a pike-head in the coals. With the other, he worked the forge’s bellows. Captain Ahab came along, carrying a small, rusty-looking leather bag. Still a short distance from the forge, the moody captain stopped. At last, Perth pulled the iron from the fire and began hammering it on the anvil. The red-hot mass sent up thick clouds of sparks, 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.”

“Are these your Mother Carey’s chickens, Perth? They’re always flying in your wake. They’re birds of good omen, too, but not for everyone. Look here, they burn. But you live among them without getting scorched.”

“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.”

“Because I am burned all over, Captain Ahab,” Perth answered, resting for a moment on his hammer. “I am beyond being burned. You cannot easily burn 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?”

“Well, well, no more. Your weakened voice sounds too calm, too sane in its sorrow. I am in no paradise myself, and I have no patience for misery in others that is not madness. You should go mad, blacksmith. Tell me, why don’t you go mad? How can you endure without going mad? Do the heavens still hate you so much that you cannot go mad? What were you making there?”

“Welding an old pike-head, sir; there were seams and dents in it.”

“Welding an old pike head, sir. It had seams and dents in it.”

“And can’st thou make it all smooth again, blacksmith, after such hard usage as it had?”

“And can you make it all smooth again, blacksmith, after all the hard use it has had?”

“I think so, sir.”

“I think so, sir.”

“And I suppose thou can’st smoothe almost any seams and dents; never mind how hard the metal, blacksmith?”

“And I suppose you can smooth out almost any seams and dents, no matter how hard the metal, blacksmith?”

“Aye, sir, I think I can; all seams and dents but one.”

“Yes, sir, I think I can, all seams and dents except 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?”

“Look here, then,” Ahab cried, advancing passionately and placing both hands on Perth’s shoulders. “Look here, here. Can you smooth out a seam like this, blacksmith?” He swept one hand across his furrowed brow. “If you could, blacksmith, I would gladly lay my head on your anvil and feel your heaviest hammer between my eyes. Answer! Can you smooth out this seam?”

“Oh! that is the one, sir! Said I not all seams and dents but one?”

“Oh! That is the one, sir! Didn't I say all but one had seams and dents?”

“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.”

“Yes, blacksmith, that's the one. Yes, man, it can't be smoothed out. Though you can only see it here in my flesh, it has reached the bone of my skull. That is all wrinkles! But enough of this child's play. No more gaffs and pikes today. Look here!” He jingled the leather bag as if it were full of gold coins. “I want a harpoon made, too. One that a thousand pairs of fiends could not pull apart, Perth. Something that will stick in a whale like its own fin-bone. There's the material,” he said, tossing the pouch onto the anvil. “Look here, blacksmith. These are the gathered nail stubs from 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.”

“Horseshoe nail stubs, sir? Why, Captain Ahab, you have the best and toughest material we blacksmiths ever work with.”

“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.”

“I know, old man. These metal scraps will weld together like glue made from the melted bones of murderers. Quick! Forge me the harpoon. First, forge twelve rods for its shaft. Then wind, twist, and hammer the twelve rods together like the yarns and strands of a tow rope. 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.”

When all twelve rods were finished, Ahab tested them one by one. With his own hand, he wound each rod around a long, heavy iron bolt. “A flaw!” he said, rejecting the last rod. “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.

With that done, Perth was about to weld the twelve pieces into one. But Ahab stopped him, saying he would weld his own iron. Ahab hammered on the anvil, grunting rhythmically and gasping for breath. Perth passed him the glowing rods one by one, while the hard-working forge sent up an intense, straight flame. As Ahab worked, the Parsee passed silently and bowed his head toward the fire. He seemed to be invoking a curse or a blessing on the work. But when Ahab looked up, the Parsee slipped 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.”

“What’s that bunch of devils scurrying around there for?” muttered Stubb, watching from the forecastle. “That Parsee smells fire like a match does. And he smells of fire himself, like the powder pan of a hot musket.”

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.

At last, the shank, now a single complete rod, received its final heating. To temper it, Perth plunged it into the nearby cask of water. As the rod hissed, 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?”

“Are you going to brand me, Perth?” He winced for a moment in pain. “Then have I been forging my own branding iron?”

“Pray God, not that; yet I fear something, Captain Ahab. Is not this harpoon for the White Whale?”

“God, I hope not. But I do fear something, Captain Ahab. Isn’t 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 the white fiend! But now for the barbs. You must make them yourself, man. Here are my razors, made of the best steel. Here, make the barbs as sharp as the needle-like sleet of the Icy Sea.”

For a moment, the old blacksmith eyed the razors as though he would fain not use them.

For a moment, the old blacksmith looked at the razors as though he would rather 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!”

“Take them, man. I don’t need them, for I no longer shave, eat, or pray until... But here, get 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.

At last, Perth shaped the steel into an arrowhead and welded it to the shaft, giving the iron a point. The blacksmith was about to heat the barbs one last time before tempering them. He called to Ahab to bring 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.

“No, no, no water for that. I want it tempered for true death. Hey, there! Tashtego, Queequeg, Daggoo! What do you say, pagans? Will you give me enough blood to cover this barb?” He held it high. A group of dark heads nodded yes. Three punctures were made in the pagans’ flesh, and the barbs for the White Whale 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.

“I baptize you not in the name of the Father, but in the name of the devil!” Ahab howled deliriously as the evil iron scorched and 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.”

Ahab gathered the spare poles from below and chose a hickory pole with its bark still on. He fitted its end into the socket of the harpoon. Then he unwound a coil of new tow-line, ran several fathoms of it to the windlass, and stretched it tight. He pressed his foot on the rope until it hummed like a harp string. Then he eagerly bent over it and saw no broken strands. “Good!” Ahab exclaimed. “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!

At one end, the rope was untwisted, and all its separate strands were braided and woven around the harpoon’s socket. The pole was then driven firmly into the socket. The rope was laid from the socket halfway down the pole and firmly fastened with twine wrapped around both. Once this was done, the pole, iron, and rope remained inseparable, like the Three Fates. Ahab stalked moodily away with the weapon. His ivory leg and the hickory pole both rang hollowly against every plank. But before he entered his cabin, a light, unnatural sound was heard. It was half teasing, yet deeply pitiful. Oh, Pip! Your wretched laugh, your vacant but restless eye, all your strange antics blended meaningfully with the dark tragedy of the melancholy ship and mocked it!