The Chase: First Day

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.

That night, during the mid-watch, the old man stepped out from the hatchway where he had been leaning. As he sometimes did, he went to his pivot-hole. Suddenly, he thrust his face forward fiercely and sniffed the sea air. He was like a keen ship’s dog nearing a savage island. He declared that a whale must be near. Soon everyone on watch could smell the peculiar odor a living sperm whale sometimes gives off over great distances. Ahab checked the compass and then the dog-vane. He determined as closely as he could which direction the smell was coming from. Then he quickly ordered a slight change in the ship’s course and a reduction in sail. No sailor was surprised.

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.

At daybreak, a sight confirmed the wisdom behind these movements. Directly ahead, a long, narrow stretch of sea lay smooth as oil. The folded ripples along its edges resembled the polished, metallic marks of a swift tide rip at the mouth of a deep, fast stream.

“Man the mast-heads! Call all hands!”

“Send lookouts to the mastheads! Call the whole crew!”

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.

Daggoo banged the ends of three handspikes together on the forecastle deck, rousing the sleepers with thunderous, judgment-day blows. They appeared so instantly, clothes in hand, that they seemed to breathe out of the hatch.

“What d’ye see?” cried Ahab, flattening his face to the sky.

“What do you see?” cried Ahab, turning his face up to the sky.

“Nothing, nothing sir!” was the sound hailing down in reply.

“Nothing, nothing, sir!” came the reply from above.

“T’gallant sails!—stunsails! alow and aloft, and on both sides!”

“Topgallant sails! Studding sails, low and high, 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!”

With all the sails set, he untied the life-line reserved for hoisting him to the top of the main royal mast. Moments later, they began hoisting him up. He was only two thirds of the way up when he peered ahead through the gap between the main topsail and the topgallant sail. He let out a cry like a gull. “There she blows! There she blows! A hump like a snow-covered 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.

Excited by the cry that seemed to come from all three lookouts at once, the men on deck rushed to the rigging. They wanted to see the famous whale they had pursued for so long. Ahab had reached his final perch, a few feet above the other lookouts. Tashtego stood just below him on the cap of the top-gallant mast. The Indian’s head was almost level with Ahab’s heel. From that height, they could see the whale about a mile ahead. As the sea rolled, his high, sparkling hump came into view, and he regularly sent his silent spout into the air. To the credulous sailors, it seemed to be the same silent spout they had seen so long ago in the moonlit Atlantic and Indian Oceans.

“And did none of ye see it before?” cried Ahab, hailing the perched men all around him.

“Did none of you see it before?” Ahab cried, calling out to the men perched all around him.

“I saw him almost that same instant, sir, that Captain Ahab did, and I cried out,” said Tashtego.

“I saw him almost at the same moment Captain Ahab did, sir, 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.

“Not at the same instant. Not the same. No, the doubloon is mine. Fate reserved the doubloon for me. I alone could have spotted the White Whale first. None of you could have done it. There she blows! There she blows! There she blows! There again! There again!” he cried. His calls were slow, drawn out, and measured, matching the whale’s visible spouts as they gradually grew longer. “He’s going to dive! Bring in the stunsails! Lower the top-gallant sails! Get three boats ready. Mr. Starbuck, remember to stay aboard and take charge of the ship. Helm there! Turn a point into the wind! That’s it. Steady, man, steady! There go his tail flukes! No, no, only black water! Are the boats ready? Stand by, stand by! Lower me, Mr. Starbuck. Lower me, lower me! 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.”

“He’s heading straight downwind, sir,” cried Stubb, “right away from us. He can’t 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!”

“Quiet, man! Stand by the braces! Turn the helm hard down! Brace up! Let the sails shake! Let them shake! There, that’s good! 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.

Soon, all the boats except Starbuck’s were lowered. All their sails were set, and all their paddles were working. The boats sped swiftly downwind, rippling through the water, with Ahab leading the attack. A pale, deathly glimmer lit Fedallah’s sunken eyes. His mouth twisted in a hideous motion.

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.

Like silent nautilus shells, their light bows sped through the sea, but they approached the enemy only slowly. As they drew closer, the ocean grew even smoother. It seemed to spread a carpet over its waves, lying as serenely as a meadow at noon. At last, the breathless hunter came close to his seemingly unsuspecting prey. The whale’s entire dazzling hump was clearly visible, sliding through the sea as if it were a separate thing. A revolving ring of fine, fleecy, greenish foam constantly surrounded it. Beyond the hump, the hunter saw the vast, tangled wrinkles of the whale’s slightly projecting head. Far ahead of the whale, a glistening white shadow from his broad, milky forehead stretched across the soft waters, patterned like a Turkish rug. A musical ripple playfully accompanied the shadow. Behind him, the blue waters flowed back and forth into the moving valley of his steady wake. Bright bubbles rose and danced on either side of him. But hundreds of lively birds broke the bubbles with their light feet. Between their irregular flights, they softly brushed the sea with their feathers. A tall but broken shaft from a recent lance projected from the white whale’s back. It rose like a flagpole from the painted hull of a large ship. A cloud of soft-footed birds hovered and skimmed back and forth over the whale like a canopy. Now and then, one silently perched and rocked on the pole, its long tail feathers streaming like pennants.

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.

A gentle joy surrounded the gliding whale, a mighty calm even in his speed. Jupiter once took the form of a white bull and swam away with the abducted Europa clinging to his graceful horns. His lovely, lustful eyes looked sideways at the young woman. He swam smoothly and swiftly, making ripples as he headed straight for their bridal chamber in Crete. Yet not even Jove, that great supreme majesty, surpassed the glorified White Whale as he swam so divinely.

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.

The whale’s smooth, bright sides held an alluring charm, alongside the swells that parted around him and flowed far away. No wonder some hunters, carried away and drawn in by all this serenity, had dared to attack him. But they had discovered too late that his quiet was only a cloak for tornadoes. Yet, oh whale, you glide on, calm and inviting to everyone who sees you for the first time. It does not matter how many others you may have deceived and destroyed in the same way 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.

And so Moby Dick moved through the peaceful tropical sea. The waves had stopped clapping their hands in sheer delight. He still kept the full terror of his submerged body out of sight, completely hiding his horribly twisted jaw. But soon the front of his body slowly rose from the water. For an instant, his whole marbled body formed a high arch, like Virginia’s Natural Bridge. The grand god waved his bannerlike tail flukes in warning, revealed himself, then dove out of sight. White seabirds hovered, pausing and dipping in flight, and lingered longingly over the churning water he left behind.

With oars apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of their sails adrift, the three boats now stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick’s reappearance.

The three boats floated silently, with their oars raised, paddles lowered, and sail ropes loose. They waited for Moby Dick to reappear.

“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.

“An hour,” said Ahab, standing as if rooted to the stern of his boat. He looked beyond the whale’s position, toward the dim blue spaces and wide, beckoning emptiness downwind. He looked for only an instant. Then his eyes seemed to whirl in his head again as he scanned the circle of water. The breeze grew stronger, and the sea began to swell.

“The birds!—the birds!” cried Tashtego.

“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.

All the white birds were now flying toward Ahab’s boat in a long single file, like herons taking flight. When they came within a few yards, they began fluttering over the water, circling with joyful, expectant cries. Their eyesight was sharper than a man’s. Ahab could see no sign in the sea. But suddenly, as he peered deeper and deeper into the water, he saw a living white spot far below. It was no bigger than a white weasel. It rose with astonishing speed, growing larger as it came up. Then it turned, revealing two long, crooked rows of white, glistening teeth rising from the unseen depths. They were the teeth of Moby Dick’s open mouth and curved jaw. His vast, shadowy body still half blended with the blue sea. The glittering mouth opened beneath the boat like a marble tomb with its door open. Ahab gave one sideways sweep with his steering oar and swung the boat away from the tremendous sight. Then he called to Fedallah to change places with him and went forward to the bow. He seized Perth’s harpoon and ordered his crew to grasp their oars and be ready to row backward.

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.

By spinning the boat around in time, they turned its bow to face the whale’s head before he surfaced. But Moby Dick seemed to see through the maneuver, with the malicious intelligence people attributed to him. He seemed to shift sideways 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.

For an instant, a shudder ran through every plank and rib of the boat. The whale lay tilted on his back like a biting shark. Slowly and deliberately, he took the boat’s bow fully into his mouth. His long, narrow, curved lower jaw rose high into the air, and one tooth caught in an oarlock. The bluish pearl-white inside of the jaw came within six inches of Ahab’s head and rose above it. In this position, the White Whale shook the slender cedar boat like a mildly cruel cat shaking a mouse. Fedallah watched without surprise and crossed his arms, but the tiger-yellow crew tumbled over one another to reach the very 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.

The whale toyed with the doomed boat in this devilish way, while both flexible gunwales sprang in and out. His body was submerged beneath the boat, so no one could strike him from the bow. The bow was almost inside him, as it were. The other boats paused involuntarily, as if facing a sudden crisis they could not withstand. Then Ahab, consumed by his single obsession, acted. He was furious that his enemy was so tantalizingly close, leaving him alive and helpless in the very jaws he hated. Driven wild by all this, he seized the long jawbone with his bare hands and tried desperately to wrench it free. As Ahab struggled in vain, the jaw slipped from his hands. The frail gunwales bent inward, collapsed, and snapped. The jaws slid farther toward the stern and, like enormous shears, bit the boat completely in two. They locked shut again in the sea, midway between the two floating pieces of wreckage. The pieces drifted apart, their broken ends drooping. The crew on the stern section clung to the gunwales and tried to hold on 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.

Just before the boat was crushed, Ahab was the first to understand the whale’s intent. The whale had cunningly raised its head, briefly loosening Ahab’s grip on its jaw. At that moment, Ahab made one last effort to push the boat out of the whale’s bite. But the boat only slipped farther into the whale’s mouth, tilting sideways as it went. The movement shook Ahab’s grip loose from the jaw and threw him out of the boat as he leaned forward to push. He fell face-first onto 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.

Moby Dick pulled away from his prey, sending ripples through the water. A short distance away, he raised and lowered his long white head in the waves. At the same time, he slowly turned his whole tapered body. As his vast, wrinkled forehead rose twenty feet or more out of the water, the swells rose too. All their converging waves broke against his forehead in a dazzling burst, spitefully hurling their shattered spray still higher into the air.* In the same way, during a gale, the Channel waves are only partly stopped by the Eddystone. They draw back from its base, only to send their windblown spray triumphantly over its top.

*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.

*This motion is unique to the sperm whale. It is called pitchpoling because it resembles the initial up-and-down balancing of the whale-lance in the previously described practice of pitchpoling. This motion must give the whale the best and most complete view of whatever objects may be surrounding 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.

But soon Moby Dick returned to a horizontal position and swam swiftly around and around the wrecked crew. He churned the water sideways in his vengeful wake, as if preparing himself for another, more deadly attack. The sight of the splintered boat seemed to drive him mad. It was like the blood of grapes and mulberries placed before Antiochus’s elephants in the book of Maccabees. Meanwhile, Ahab was half smothered in the foam from the whale’s defiant tail. He was too crippled to swim, though he could still stay afloat, even in the heart of such a whirlpool. Helpless Ahab’s head could be seen, like a tossed bubble that the slightest chance blow might burst. From the boat’s broken stern, Fedallah watched him calmly and without curiosity. The crew, clinging to the other drifting end, could not help Ahab. They had more than enough to do looking after themselves. The White Whale was terrifying as he circled them. His ever tighter circles were so swift and planet-like that he seemed to be swooping sideways down on them. Although the other boats were unharmed and still close by, they dared not row into the swirling water to strike. An attack might signal the immediate destruction of the castaways in danger, Ahab and all. In that case, the men in the other boats could not hope to escape either. So they remained at the outer edge of the dreadful zone, watching with straining eyes. The old man’s head had now become its center.

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!”

Meanwhile, the lookouts at the ship’s mastheads had seen everything from the beginning. The ship had turned her yards and sailed toward the scene. She was now so close that Ahab called out to her from the water: “Sail on the”. But at that moment, a wave broke against him from Moby Dick and briefly submerged him. He struggled to the surface again and happened to rise on the crest of a towering wave. Then 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.

The Pequod headed forward, breaking the enchanted circle and separating the white whale from his victim. As the whale swam off sullenly, the boats raced 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.

Ahab was dragged into Stubb’s boat, his eyes bloodshot and blind, white salt caked in his wrinkles. The strength his body had held for so long gave way, and he helplessly surrendered to its fate. For a time, he lay crushed in the bottom of Stubb’s boat, as if trampled by herds of elephants. From deep within him came nameless wails, as desolate as sounds rising from 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.

But the intensity of his physical collapse only made it pass more quickly. In a single instant, great hearts sometimes feel one deep pang. That pang holds all the lesser pains mercifully spread across the whole lives of weaker men. And so, though each suffering is brief, such hearts may still endure an entire age of sorrow in their lifetimes, if the gods decree it. That sorrow is made up entirely of moments of intense pain. For even at their infinitesimal centers, those noble natures contain the full expanse of lesser souls.

“The harpoon,” said Ahab, half way rising, and draggingly leaning on one bended arm—“is it safe?”

“The harpoon,” said Ahab, rising halfway and leaning heavily on one bent arm. “Is it safe?”

“Aye, sir, for it was not darted; this is it,” said Stubb, showing it.

“Yes, sir, because it wasn't thrown. Here it is,” said Stubb, showing it.

“Lay it before me;—any missing men?”

“Put it in front of me. Are any men missing?”

“One, two, three, four, five;—there were five oars, sir, and here are five 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!”

“That’s good. Help me, man. I want to stand. There, there, I see him! There! There! He’s still heading downwind. What a spout, leaping into the air! Take your hands off me! Eternal life is flowing through Ahab’s bones again! Set the sail! Get out the oars! Take 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.

Often, when a boat is smashed, another boat picks up its crew, who help row it. The chase then continues with what are called double-banked oars. That was what happened now. But the boat’s added power could not match the whale’s. He seemed to have tripled the power of every fin. He swam so fast that, under these circumstances, pressing on would clearly mean an endlessly prolonged, if not hopeless, chase. No crew could endure such intense, continuous strain at the oars for so long. It was barely tolerable even during a single brief emergency. The ship itself, as sometimes happened, offered the best available way to overtake the whale. So the boats headed back to her and were soon hoisted to their cranes. The two pieces of the wrecked boat had already been secured by the ship. Then, with everything hoisted aboard, the Pequod piled on sail high above the deck. She also spread stun-sails out to either side, like the double-jointed wings of an albatross. She bore down along Moby-Dick’s wake on the leeward side. At the familiar, regular intervals, lookouts stationed at the mastheads reported the whale’s glittering spout. Whenever they reported that he had just gone down, Ahab noted the time. Then he paced the deck, holding the binnacle-watch. As soon as the last second of the allotted hour had passed, his voice rang out: “Whose is the doubloon now? D’ye see him?” If the reply was “No, sir!” he immediately ordered them to lift him to his perch. In this way the day wore on. Ahab was now aloft and motionless, now pacing the deck without rest.

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.

He paced back and forth beneath his slouched hat, speaking only to call to the men aloft. Sometimes he ordered them to hoist a sail higher or spread one wider. At every turn, he passed his own wrecked boat. It had been lowered onto the quarterdeck and lay upside down, broken from bow to stern. At last he stopped before it. Just as fresh banks of clouds sometimes drift across an already darkened sky, a deeper gloom now stole over the old man’s face.

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!”

Stubb saw him pause. Perhaps Stubb meant to show that his own courage had not faded. If so, he succeeded, and thus kept his reputation for bravery in his Captain’s mind. He stepped forward, looked at the wreck, and exclaimed, “The donkey refused the thistle. It pricked his mouth too sharply, 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.”

“What soulless thing laughs in the face of a wreck? Man, man! If I did not know you were as brave as fearless fire (and as mechanical), I could swear you were a coward. No one should groan or laugh in the face of a wreck.”

“Aye, sir,” said Starbuck drawing near, “’tis a solemn sight; an omen, and an ill one.”

“Yes, sir,” said Starbuck, coming closer. “It is a solemn sight, and a bad omen.”

“Omen? omen?—the dictionary! If the gods think to speak outright to man, they will honorably 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!”

“Omen? Omen? Look it up in the dictionary! If the gods mean to speak plainly to man, they will speak plainly and honorably. They will not shake their heads and offer a mysterious old wives’ hint. Begone! You two are opposite poles of the same thing. Starbuck is Stubb reversed, and Stubb is Starbuck. Together, you two are all mankind. And Ahab stands alone among the millions who people the earth. Neither gods nor men are his neighbors! Cold, cold, I shiver! What now? Up there! Do you see him? Call out every time he spouts, 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.

The day was nearly over. Only the hem of his golden robe still rustled. Soon, it was almost dark, but the lookout men had still not been posted.

“Can’t see the spout now, sir;—too dark”—cried a voice from the air.

“Can’t see the spout now, sir. Too dark,” cried a voice from above.

“How heading when last seen?”

“Which direction was it heading when last seen?”

“As before, sir,—straight to leeward.”

“Same as before, sir, straight downwind.”

“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!”

“Good! He will travel more slowly now that it’s night. Lower the royals and topgallant studding sails, Mr. Starbuck. We must not run over him before morning. He’s traveling now and may stop for a while. Helmsman! Keep her running straight before the wind! Men aloft, come down! Mr. Stubb, send a fresh man to the foremast head. Keep a lookout there until morning.” Then he walked toward the doubloon on the mainmast. “Men, this gold is mine because I earned it. But I’ll leave it here until the White Whale is dead. Whoever first spots him on the day he is killed will get this gold. And if I spot him again that day, ten times the sum will be divided among all of you! Away now! The deck is yours, 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.

After saying this, he stood halfway inside the scuttle with his hat pulled low. He stayed there until dawn, stirring now and then to see how the night was passing.