The Quadrant

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.

The season for sailing to the equator was finally approaching. Each day, Ahab came out of his cabin and looked up. The watchful helmsman would make a show of handling the wheel. The eager sailors would quickly run to the braces and stand there, all staring at the doubloon nailed to the mast. They were impatient for the order to turn the ship toward the equator. At last, the order came. It was nearly noon. Ahab sat in the bow of his boat, which was hoisted high above the deck. He was about to take his usual daily reading 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!”

In that Japanese sea, summer days are like floods of brilliant light. The unblinking, vivid Japanese sun seems to burn at the center of a vast magnifying glass formed by the glassy ocean. The sky looks lacquered. There are no clouds. The horizon floats. This bare, unbroken radiance is like the unbearable splendor of God’s throne. Fortunately, Ahab’s quadrant had colored glasses for looking at that solar fire. He swayed in his seat with the roll of the ship, holding the astronomical instrument to his eye. He stayed in that position for several moments, waiting to catch the exact instant when the sun reached its highest point. Meanwhile, Ahab’s whole attention was absorbed in his task. Beneath him, the Parsee knelt on the ship’s deck. He too turned his face upward and watched the same sun. But his eyelids half covered his eyes, and his wild face had settled into an earthly calm, free of passion. At last, Ahab made the observation he wanted. Using his pencil and his ivory leg, he soon calculated his latitude at that precise instant. Then he fell into thought for a moment. He looked up at the sun again and murmured to himself: “You sea-mark! You high and mighty Pilot! You tell me truly where I am, but can you give me the slightest hint where I shall be? Or can you tell me where some other living thing besides me is at this moment? Where is Moby Dick? You must be looking at him this instant. My eyes are looking into the very eye that is watching him now. Yes, and into the eye that is equally watching the things on your unknown far side, you 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 dead-reckoning, 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!”

Then he stared at his quadrant and handled its many mysterious devices, one after another. He thought again and muttered: “Foolish toy! A baby’s plaything for proud Admirals, Commodores, and Captains. The world boasts of your cleverness and power. But after all, what can you do? You can only tell the poor, pitiful spot where you and the hand holding you happen to be on this vast planet. No! Not a bit more! You cannot tell where one drop of water or one grain of sand will be tomorrow at noon. Yet, powerless as you are, you insult the sun! Science! Curse you, you vain toy. And cursed be all the things that make men look up to heaven. Its living brightness only scorches them, just as your light scorches these old eyes now, O sun! By nature, men’s eyes look level with the earth’s horizon. They do not look out from the tops of their heads, as if God had meant them to gaze at his sky. Curse you, quadrant!” He dashed it to the deck. “I will no longer use you to guide my earthly course. The level ship’s compass and level dead reckoning, by log and line, these will guide me and show me my place on the sea. Aye!” He stepped down from the boat onto the deck. “This is how I trample you, you worthless thing that points so feebly upward. This is how I break and destroy you!”

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!”

As the frantic old man spoke and stamped with his living foot and his dead one, expressions crossed the silent, motionless Parsee’s face. One was a sneering triumph that seemed meant for Ahab. The other was a despairing acceptance of fate that seemed meant for himself. He rose and slipped away unnoticed. Meanwhile, the sailors, awestruck by their commander’s appearance, gathered together on the forecastle. Ahab paced the deck in distress, then shouted, “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.

In an instant, the yards swung around, and the ship half turned on its heel. As it turned, its three graceful, firmly set masts stood upright on the long, ribbed hull. They seemed like the three Horatii pirouetting on a single, sturdy steed.

Standing between the knight-heads, Starbuck watched the Pequod’s tumultuous way, and Ahab’s also, as he went lurching along the deck.

Standing between the knight-heads, Starbuck watched the Pequod’s turbulent course. He also watched Ahab lurch 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!”

“I have sat before a thick coal fire and watched it glow, full of its tortured, flaming life. At last, I have seen it fade, sinking down and down to utterly silent dust. Old man of the oceans! What will remain of all your fiery life in the end 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!”

“Yes,” cried Stubb, “but ashes from sea coal. Remember that, Mr. Starbuck. Sea coal, not your common charcoal. Well, well. I heard Ahab mutter, ‘Someone puts these cards into my old hands and swears I must play them and no others.’ And damn me, Ahab, but you’re right to play them. Live in the game, and die in it!”