The Symphony

8 min

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.

It was a clear, steel-blue day. The sky and sea were hardly distinguishable in the blue that filled everything. Only the thoughtful air was clear and soft, with a woman’s look. The strong, manly sea rose and fell in long, powerful, lingering swells, like Samson’s chest as he slept.

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.

High above, small, spotless birds glided here and there on snow-white wings. They were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air. But far below, in the bottomless blue depths, mighty whales, swordfish, and sharks rushed back and forth. They were the strong, troubled, murderous thoughts 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.

But though they were different within, outwardly the difference was only in shades and shadows. The two seemed like one. Only their sex, so to speak, 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.

High above, like a mighty czar and king, the sun seemed to give this gentle air to the bold, rolling sea. It was as if a bride were giving herself to her groom. Along the horizon that encircled them, a soft, trembling motion was visible, especially here at the equator. It showed the poor bride’s tender, throbbing trust and loving fears as she 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.

Ahab stood steady in the clear morning light. His face was twisted and knotted with wrinkles, and he looked haggard but firm and unyielding. His eyes glowed like coals still burning in the ashes of ruin. He raised his battered, helmet-like brow toward the sky, which was fair as a young girl’s forehead.

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.

Oh, eternal childhood and innocence of the blue sky! Invisible winged creatures playing all around us! Sweet childhood of air and sky! How unaware you were of old Ahab’s tightly coiled sorrow! But I have seen little Miriam and Martha, laughing-eyed elves, play just as thoughtlessly around their old father. They played with the ring of singed hair around the edge of the burned-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.

Ahab slowly crossed the deck from the hatch, leaned over the side, and watched his shadow in the water. The harder he tried to see into the depths, the deeper his shadow seemed to sink. But the lovely scents in that enchanted air finally seemed to ease, for a moment, the sickness in his soul. The joyful air and the beautiful sky seemed to stroke and caress him. The world had been like a cruel, forbidding stepmother for so long. Now it wrapped loving arms around his stubborn neck and seemed to sob over him with joy. He was willful and had gone astray, but the world seemed to find it in its heart to save and bless him. From beneath his drooping hat, Ahab let a tear fall into the sea. All the Pacific did not contain as much wealth as that one tiny 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.

Starbuck saw the old man leaning heavily over the side. In his own faithful heart, he seemed to hear endless sobbing rising from the calm around them. Careful not to touch the old man or let him notice, Starbuck drew near 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, Starbuck! The wind is so mild, and the sky looks mild too. On a day like this, just as sweet, I struck my first whale. I was a harpooner, a boy of eighteen! Forty, forty, forty years ago! Forty years of whaling without a break! Forty years of hardship, danger, and storms! Forty years on the pitiless sea! For forty years Ahab has abandoned the peaceful land to make war on the horrors of the deep! Yes, Starbuck, in all those forty years, I have spent less than three ashore. When I think of the life I have led, the desolation of being alone! A captain’s isolation is like a stone-walled town. It lets in so little sympathy from the green country outside. Oh, the weariness! The heaviness! Commanding alone is slavery, like slavery on the Guinea coast! Until now, I had only half suspected all this. I had never felt it so keenly. For forty years I have eaten dry, salted food. It is a fitting symbol of the dry food my own soil has given me! Meanwhile, the poorest man on land has had fresh fruit every day and eaten fresh bread while I ate moldy crusts. And I have been far away, whole oceans away, from the young girl I married when I was over fifty. I sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving only one dent in our marriage pillow. Wife? Wife? She is more like a widow with a living husband! Yes, Starbuck, I made that poor girl a widow when I married her. And then there is the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and burning brow! A thousand times old Ahab has lowered the boats and chased his prey, furious and foaming, more demon than man! Yes, yes! What a fool old Ahab has been for forty years! A fool, an old fool! Why fight so hard in the chase? Why wear out and weaken my arm with oar, harpoon, and lance? How much richer or better is Ahab now? Look at me. Oh, Starbuck! Isn’t it cruel that, with this weary burden I carry, one poor leg was snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside. It blinds me, so that I seem to weep. Hair this gray could only have grown from ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel faint unto death, bent and hunched. I feel like Adam, staggering under the centuries piled up since Paradise. God! God! God! Break my heart! Smash my brain! Mockery! Mockery! Bitter, biting mockery of gray hair! Have I lived enough joy to wear it, and to look and feel so unbearably old? Come close! Stand close to me, Starbuck. Let me look into a human eye. It is better than gazing at the sea or sky, better than gazing at God. By the green land, by the bright hearth! Your eye is the magic glass, man. I see my wife and my child in it. No, no, stay on board! Do not lower a boat when I do, when scarred Ahab chases Moby Dick. You shall not face that danger. No, no! Not with the distant 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.”

“Oh, my Captain! My Captain! Noble soul! Grand old heart, after all! Why should anyone chase that hated fish? Come away with me! Let us flee these deadly waters! Let us go home! Starbuck has a wife and child too. He knew his wife in his youth, when they were like brother and sister and played together. Just as you, sir, have a wife and child to love and long for in your old age! Away! Let us go! Let me change course this instant! How cheerfully, how joyfully, my Captain, we would sail on our way to see old Nantucket again! I think, sir, they have some mild blue days like 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.”

“They have, they have. I have seen them on some summer mornings. About this time, yes, he is napping now, the boy wakes up full of energy and sits up in bed. His mother tells him about me, old cannibal me. She tells him how I am away at sea, but will come back to dance with 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!”

“It’s my Mary, Mary herself! She promised that every morning our boy would be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of his father’s sail! Yes, yes! No more! It’s settled! We’re heading for Nantucket! Come, Captain, work out the course, and let’s go! Look, look! The boy’s face at 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.

But Ahab looked away. Like a withered fruit tree, he shook and dropped his last, burnt apple to the ground.

“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!”

“What is it? What nameless, unknowable, unearthly thing commands me? What deceptive, hidden lord and master, what cruel, merciless emperor commands me? Why do I keep pushing, crowding, and forcing myself onward, against all my natural loves and desires? What recklessly drives me to do what, in my own natural heart, I would not even dare to consider? Is Ahab really Ahab? Is it I, God, or someone else who lifts this arm? But if the great sun does not move by itself, and is only an errand boy in heaven, and if not one star can revolve except by some invisible power, how can this one small heart beat? How can this one small brain think, unless God does the beating, the thinking, the living, and not I? By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like that windlass over there, and Fate is the lever that turns it. And all the while, look! The sky smiles, and the sea is too deep to measure! Look! See that Albicore! Who made it chase and seize that flying fish? Where do murderers go, man? Who is to pass judgment when the judge himself is dragged before the court? But the wind is mild, so mild, and the sky looks mild too. The air smells now as if it blew from a faraway meadow. Somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, they have been making hay. The mowers are sleeping among the freshly cut hay. Sleeping? Yes, however hard we work, we all sleep in the field at last. Sleep? Yes, and rust amid the green growth, like last year’s scythes, thrown down and left in the half-cut rows. Starbuck!”

But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.

But pale as a corpse with despair, the Mate had slipped 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.

Ahab crossed the deck to look over the other side. But he was startled by two staring eyes reflected in the water. Fedallah was leaning motionless over the same rail.