The Chase: Second Day

At day-break, the three mast-heads were punctually manned afresh.

At daybreak, men returned to their posts at the tops of all three masts, right on time.

“D’ye see him?” cried Ahab after allowing a little space for the light to spread.

“Do you see him?” Ahab cried after waiting a moment for the light to spread.

“See nothing, sir.”

“I 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.”

“Wake all hands and set sail! He’s moving faster than I expected. Set the top-gallant sails! Yes, we should have kept them on the ship all night. But never mind. It’s only resting before 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.

Let it be said that such relentless pursuit of one whale, from day into night and from night into day, is by no means unheard of in the South sea fishery. Some Nantucket captains are great natural geniuses. They gain remarkable skill, foresight from experience, and unshakable confidence. Under certain conditions, a captain need only observe a whale when it was last seen. From that, he can predict fairly accurately which direction it will swim while out of sight, and how fast. In such cases, the whaleman is somewhat like a pilot about to lose sight of a coast. The pilot knows the coast’s general course and wants to return to it soon, at a point farther along. So he stands by his compass and takes the exact bearing of the cape still in sight. He does this to find the distant, unseen headland more surely when he reaches it. The whaleman does much the same with the whale at his compass. After chasing the whale and carefully tracking it for several hours in daylight, he loses sight of the fish at night. Yet the path the creature will leave through the darkness is almost as clear to the shrewd hunter as the coast is to the pilot. Thanks to the hunter’s remarkable skill, a wake, that famously fleeting thing written in water, is nearly as reliable for his purposes as solid land. Men know every pace of the mighty iron Leviathan of the modern railway so well that they time its speed with watches, as doctors time a baby’s pulse. They casually say that the train going one way or the other will reach a certain place at a certain hour. In much the same way, these Nantucketers sometimes time the other Leviathan of the deep, according to the speed they have observed it choose. They say to themselves that in so many hours the whale will have traveled two hundred miles. By then it will have nearly reached a certain latitude or longitude. But for this sharp judgment to succeed, the wind and sea must be the whaleman’s allies. What use is it to a sailor who is becalmed or held back by contrary winds to know that he is exactly ninety-three and a quarter leagues from his port? From all this, many other subtle matters concerning the chase of whales may be inferred.

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.

The ship raced on, carving a furrow through the sea. It was like a stray cannonball plowing up a 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!”

“By salt and hemp!” cried Stubb. “The deck’s swift motion creeps up my legs and makes my heart tingle. This ship and I are two brave fellows! Ha, ha! Someone pick me up and launch me on the sea, spine first. By live-oaks, my spine is a keel. Ha, ha! We’re moving at a pace that leaves no dust behind!”

“There she blows—she blows!—she blows!—right ahead!” was now the mast-head cry.

“There she blows! She blows! She blows! Right ahead!” came the cry from the top of the mast.

“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!”

“Yes, yes!” cried Stubb. “I knew it. You can’t escape. Keep blowing and split your spout, whale! The mad fiend himself is after you! Blow your trumpet. Blister your lungs! Ahab will dam up your blood, as a miller closes his watergate on a 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.

And Stubb spoke for nearly the whole crew. By now, the frenzy of the chase had stirred them to a boil, like old wine fermenting again. Some may have felt faint fears and misgivings before. But their growing awe of Ahab no longer merely kept those fears hidden. It had scattered them on every side, like timid prairie hares fleeing bounding bison. The hand of Fate had seized all their souls. The thrilling dangers of the previous day and the torment of the night’s suspense swept their hearts along. So did the fixed, fearless, blind, reckless way their wild ship plunged toward its fleeing target. The wind swelled their sails and drove the ship onward with invisible, irresistible arms. It seemed a symbol of the unseen force that held them captive to the chase.

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.

They were one man, not thirty. The one ship that carried them all was made of contrasting materials: oak, maple, pine, iron, pitch, and hemp. Yet all these materials came together in one solid hull. The ship sped on its way, balanced and directed by its long central keel. In the same way, all the crew’s individual qualities were welded into one. One man’s courage, another’s fear, guilt and guiltiness, all their differences became one. And all were directed toward the fatal goal that Ahab, their one lord and keel, pointed 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!

The rigging was alive. The mastheads, like the tops of tall palm trees, were covered with a spreading tuft of arms and legs. Some men clung to a spar with one hand and waved the other impatiently. Others shaded their eyes from the bright sunlight and sat far out on the rocking yards. All the spars were crowded with people, ready and ripe for their fate. Ah! How they still searched through that endless blue for 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.”

“Why don’t you call out for him if you see him?” cried Ahab. Several minutes had passed since the first cry, and nothing more had been heard. “Hoist me up, men. You’ve been mistaken. Moby Dick wouldn’t spout just once like that and then disappear.”

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.

That was exactly what had happened. In their reckless eagerness, the men had mistaken something else for the whale’s spout. Events soon proved it. Ahab had hardly reached his perch, and the rope had hardly been secured to its pin on deck, when he gave the first cry. The crew joined in like an orchestra, making the air vibrate as if rifles had fired together. Thirty men with buckskin lungs shouted in triumph. Moby Dick had burst bodily into view, less than a mile ahead, much closer to the ship than the imaginary spout! The White Whale had not revealed his presence with calm, lazy spouts or a peaceful gush from the mysterious fountain in his head. Instead, he appeared in the far more astonishing act of breaching. Rising at full speed from the greatest depths, a Sperm Whale launches his entire bulk into the open air. He piles up a mountain of dazzling foam, revealing his position from seven miles away and beyond. In those moments, the torn, furious waves he shakes off seem like his mane. Sometimes, 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.

“There she breaches! There she breaches!” came the cry as the White Whale flung himself toward Heaven like a salmon, in a show of boundless bravado. The spray he raised appeared suddenly over the blue sea, set against the even bluer edge of the sky. For a moment, it glittered and glared unbearably like a glacier. Then it gradually faded from its first sparkling brilliance into the dim mist of a shower advancing through a valley.

“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!”

“Yes, make your last leap into the sunlight, Moby Dick!” cried Ahab. “Your time has come, and so has your harpoon! Down, all of you, except one man at the bow. The boats! Get ready!”

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.

Ignoring the slow rope ladders of the shrouds, the men slid down the separate backstays and halyards like shooting stars. Ahab was lowered from his perch less swiftly, but still quickly.

“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!”

“Lower away,” he cried as soon as he reached his boat. It was a spare boat, rigged the previous afternoon. “Mr. Starbuck, the ship is yours. Keep clear of the boats, but stay 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 manœuvred, 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.

As if to strike sudden terror into them, Moby Dick had turned and was now attacking first, heading for the three crews. Ahab’s boat was in the middle. Cheering his men on, he told them he would meet the whale head-on, rowing straight toward his forehead. This was not unusual. Once a boat came close enough, the whale could not see it approaching from the sides of his head. But the boats had not yet come that close. All three were still as plain to the whale’s eye as the ship’s three masts. The White Whale churned himself into a furious burst of speed. Almost in an instant, he rushed among the boats with open jaws and a lashing tail, attacking fiercely on every side. He paid no attention to the harpoons thrown at him from every boat. He seemed intent only on destroying every single plank in those boats. But the boats were skillfully handled, turning constantly like trained warhorses on a battlefield. For a while, they escaped him, though sometimes by only the width of a plank. All the while, Ahab’s unearthly battle cry tore every other cry but his own 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!

But at last, the White Whale twisted and turned in ways no one could trace. He crossed and recrossed the slack of the three lines now fastened to him, tangling them in a thousand ways. The lines grew shorter, pulling the doomed boats toward the harpoons lodged in him. Yet for a moment the whale moved a little to one side, as if gathering strength for an even more tremendous charge. Seizing the chance, Ahab first let out more line. Then he rapidly hauled and jerked it back in, hoping to free it from some of the tangles. Just then, a sight appeared more savage than the bared 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.

Loose harpoons and lances had become caught and twisted in the tangled line. Their bristling barbs and points flashed and dripped as they came up to the chocks in the bow of Ahab’s boat. Only one thing could be done. Ahab seized the boat knife and carefully reached between and past the steel points. He pulled in the line beyond them and passed it into the boat to the bowsman. Then he cut the rope twice near the chocks and dropped the severed bundle of steel into the sea. The line was fast again. At that instant, the White Whale rushed into the remaining tangles of the other lines. He dragged Stubb’s and Flask’s boats, which were more deeply entangled, helplessly toward his tail. He smashed them together like two rolling husks on a beach battered by surf. Then he dived into the sea and disappeared in a boiling whirlpool. For a while, the fragrant cedar chips from the wrecks danced around in it, like 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 two crews were still circling in the water, reaching for the spinning line tubs, oars, and other floating gear. Little Flask bobbed up and down at an angle like an empty vial, pulling up his legs to escape the dreaded jaws of sharks. Stubb was loudly calling for someone to scoop him up. Meanwhile, the old man’s line was breaking, allowing him to row into the creamy pool and rescue whom he could. Amid that wild rush of a thousand dangers all at once, Ahab’s boat, still untouched, seemed to be pulled toward Heaven by invisible wires. The White Whale shot straight up from the sea like an arrow and struck the boat’s bottom with his broad forehead. He sent the boat tumbling through the air until it fell again, gunwale first. Ahab and his men struggled out from under it like seals emerging from a seaside 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.

The whale’s upward momentum changed direction as he struck the surface, carrying him a little way from the destruction he had caused. With his back to the wreckage, he lay still for a moment, slowly feeling from side to side with his tail flukes. Whenever a stray oar, piece of plank, or even the smallest chip or crumb of the boats touched his skin, he swiftly drew back his tail and struck the sea sideways. But soon, as if satisfied that his work was done for the time being, he pushed his pleated forehead through the ocean. Trailing the tangled lines behind him, he continued downwind at a traveler’s steady 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.

As before, the watchful crew aboard the ship saw the whole fight and came to the rescue. They lowered a boat and picked up the floating sailors, tubs, oars, and whatever else they could reach. They brought everything safely aboard. There were sprained shoulders, wrists, and ankles, dark bruises, bent harpoons and lances, hopelessly tangled ropes, and shattered oars and planks. But no one seemed to have suffered a fatal or even serious injury. Just as Fedallah had been found the day before, Ahab was now found grimly clinging to his boat’s broken half. The wreckage kept him afloat with relatively little effort, and the ordeal did not exhaust him as much 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.

But when he was helped onto the deck, all eyes were fixed on him. He could not stand on his own and still leaned heavily on Starbuck’s shoulder. Starbuck had been the first to help him. His ivory leg had snapped off, leaving only a 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.”

“Yes, yes, Starbuck, it feels good to lean on someone sometimes, whoever you are. And I wish old Ahab had leaned on someone more often.”

“The ferrule has not stood, sir,” said the carpenter, now coming up; “I put good work into that leg.”

“The metal fitting didn't hold, sir,” said the carpenter, coming up. “I did good work on that leg.”

“But no bones broken, sir, I hope,” said Stubb with true concern.

“But I hope no bones are broken, sir,” said Stubb with genuine 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?”

“Yes! And all splintered to pieces, Stubb! Do you see it? But even with a broken bone, old Ahab is untouched. I consider no living bone of mine any more a part of me than the dead one I’ve lost. Neither the white whale, nor man, nor devil can even graze old Ahab’s true, unreachable self. Can any lead line touch that floor, or any mast scrape that roof? You up there! Which way?”

“Dead to leeward, sir.”

“Straight downwind, 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.”

“Put the helm up, then. Ship keepers, set more sail again! Lower and rig the rest of the spare boats. Mr. Starbuck, go and assemble the boat crews.”

“Let me first help thee towards the bulwarks, sir.”

“First, let me help you toward the ship’s side, 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!”

“Oh, oh, oh! How this splinter stabs me now! Damn this fate! The unstoppable captain in my soul has such a cowardly mate!”

“Sir?”

“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.”

“My body, man, not you. Give me something to use as a cane. There, that broken lance will do. Gather the men. Surely I haven’t seen him yet. Good God, it can’t be! Missing? Quick, call them all.”

The old man’s hinted thought was true. Upon mustering the company, the Parsee was not there.

What the old man had hinted at was true. When the crew gathered, the Parsee was not there.

“The Parsee!” cried Stubb—“he must have been caught in——”

“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!”

“May the black vomit wring you! All of you, run everywhere: above deck, below deck, the cabin, the forecastle. Find him! He’s not gone, not gone!”

But quickly they returned to him with the tidings that the Parsee was nowhere to be found.

But they quickly returned and told him 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.”

“Yes, sir,” said Stubb. “He was caught in your tangled line. I thought I saw him being dragged 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!”

“My line! My line? Gone? Gone? What does that little word mean? What death knell rings in it, making old Ahab shake as if he were the bell tower? The harpoon, too! Toss aside the gear there. Do you see it? The forged iron, men, the white whale’s. No, no, no, you blistered fool! This hand threw it! It’s in the fish! You up there! Keep him in sight. Quick! All hands, rig the boats. Gather the oars. Harpooners! The irons, the irons! Hoist the royals higher. Pull all the sheets! You at the helm! Steady, steady, for your life! I’ll circle the boundless globe ten times, and even dive straight through it, but I’ll kill 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!”

“Great God! Show yourself for just one instant,” cried Starbuck. “You will never, never catch him, old man. In Jesus’ name, stop this chase. It is worse than the devil’s madness. Two days of chasing him. Twice smashed to splinters. Your very leg snatched from under you once more. Your evil shadow gone. All the good angels crowding around you with warnings. What more would you have? Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish until he sinks the last man? Shall he drag us to the bottom of the sea? Shall he tow us to the infernal world? Oh, oh, it is impiety and blasphemy to hunt him any longer!”

“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, ye’ll 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?”

“Starbuck, lately I’ve felt strangely close to you. It began that hour when we both saw, you know what, in each other’s eyes. But when it comes to the whale, let your face be like the palm of my hand. Let it be a blank, with no mouth or features. Ahab is Ahab forever, man. This whole act has been decreed and cannot be changed. You and I rehearsed it a billion years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates’ lieutenant. I act under orders. And you, underling, make sure you obey mine. Gather around me, men. You see an old man cut down to a stump, leaning on a broken lance and standing on one foot. That is Ahab’s body. But Ahab’s soul is a centipede, moving on a hundred legs. I feel strained and half stranded, like ropes towing dismasted warships in a gale. And I may look that way. But before I break, you’ll hear me crack. Until you hear that, know that Ahab’s hawser still tows him toward his goal. Do you men believe in omens? Then laugh aloud and cry, ‘Encore!’ For drowning things rise to the surface twice before they drown. Then they rise again, only to sink forever. So it is with Moby Dick. He has surfaced for two days. Tomorrow will be the third. Yes, men, he’ll rise once more, but only to spout his last! Do you feel brave, men, brave?”

“As fearless fire,” cried Stubb.

“As fearless as fire,” shouted 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!”

“And just as mechanical,” muttered Ahab. As the men went forward, he continued muttering: “Those things called omens! Yesterday I said the same thing to Starbuck about my broken boat. Oh, how bravely I try to drive from others’ hearts what is so firmly fixed in mine! The Parsee, the Parsee! Gone, gone? He was supposed to go before me. But he was still supposed to be seen again before I could die. How can that be? There’s a riddle that could baffle all the lawyers, even with the ghosts of the entire line of judges behind them. It pecks at my brain like a hawk’s beak. I’ll, I’ll solve it, though!”

When dusk descended, the whale was still in sight to leeward.

When evening fell, the whale was still visible downwind.

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.

So once more, the sails were reduced, and almost everything happened as it had the night before. But the sound of hammers and the hum of the grindstone continued until nearly daylight. By lantern light, the men worked to rig the spare boats completely and carefully and sharpen their fresh weapons for tomorrow. Meanwhile, the carpenter made Ahab another leg from the broken keel of his wrecked boat. As on the previous night, Ahab stood hunched and motionless in his hatchway. His hidden gaze, like a sun-following flower turning back on its dial in anticipation, was fixed due east, awaiting the earliest sun.