The Chase: Day Three

The morning of the third day dawned fair and fresh, and once more the solitary night-man at the fore-mast-head was relieved by crowds of the daylight look-outs, who dotted every mast and almost every spar.

The third day dawned bright and fresh. Once more, crowds of daytime lookouts relieved the lone night watchman at the top of the foremast. They dotted every mast and almost every spar.

“D’ye see him?” cried Ahab; but the whale was not yet in sight.

“Do you see him?” Ahab cried. But the whale was not yet in sight.

“In his infallible wake, though; but follow that wake, that’s all. Helm there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going. What a lovely day again! were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Here’s food for thought, had Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels; that’s tingling enough for mortal man! to think’s audacity. God only has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that. And yet, I’ve sometimes thought my brain was very calm—frozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, it’s like that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as fleeces. Out upon it!—it’s tainted. Were I the wind, I’d blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. I’d crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink there. And yet, ’tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind! who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run tilting at it, and you but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow. Even Ahab is a braver thing—a nobler thing than that. Would now the wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and outrage mortal man, all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as objects, not as agents. There’s a most special, a most cunning, oh, a most malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that there’s something all glorious and gracious in the wind. These warm Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on, in strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark, however the baser currents of the sea may turn and tack, and mightiest Mississippies of the land swift and swerve about, uncertain where to go at last. And by the eternal Poles! these same Trades that so directly blow my good ship on; these Trades, or something like them—something so unchangeable, and full as strong, blow my keeled soul along! To it! Aloft there! What d’ye see?”

“In his unfailing wake, though. Just follow that wake, that’s all. Helm there, steady as you go, just as you have been going. What a lovely day again! Suppose this were a newly made world, built as a summer house for the angels. Suppose this morning were the first time it opened to them. No fairer day could dawn on that world. There’s food for thought, if Ahab had time to think. But Ahab never thinks. He only feels, feels, feels. That’s enough to make a mortal man tingle! Thinking is an act of audacity. Only God has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, cool and calm. But our poor hearts throb and our poor brains beat too much for that. And yet, I’ve sometimes thought my brain was very calm, frozen calm. This old skull cracks like a glass whose contents have turned to ice and shattered it. And still, this hair is growing now, growing this very moment, and heat must make it grow. But no, it’s like that common grass that grows anywhere, in the earthen cracks of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow it! They whip it around me like torn shreds of split sails lashing the tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind. No doubt it has already blown through prison corridors and cells and hospital wards, airing them out. Now it comes blowing here, as innocent as fleece. Away with it! It’s tainted. If I were the wind, I’d blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. I’d crawl into a cave somewhere and hide there. And yet, the wind is a noble and heroic thing! Who has ever conquered it? In every fight, it delivers the last and bitterest blow. Charge at it, and you only pass through it. Ha! A cowardly wind that strikes men who are completely naked, but won’t stand still to take a single blow. Even Ahab is braver and nobler than that. If only the wind had a body. But all the things that most anger and outrage mortal man have no bodies. They lack bodies only as objects, though, not as forces that act. There’s a very special, very cunning, oh, a very malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that there’s something entirely glorious and gracious in the wind. At least there is in these warm Trade Winds. They blow straight on through the clear heavens, strong and steady, vigorous yet gentle. They never turn from their course. The lesser currents of the sea may turn and tack. The mightiest Mississippies of the land may rush and swerve, uncertain where they will finally go. But the Trade Winds do not turn. And by the eternal Poles! These same Trade Winds drive my good ship straight on. And these Trade Winds, or something like them, drive my keeled soul along! Something just as unchanging and just as strong! To it! Aloft there! What do you see?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Nothing! and noon at hand! The doubloon goes a-begging! See the sun! Aye, aye, it must be so. I’ve oversailed him. How, got the start? Aye, he’s chasing me now; not I, him—that’s bad; I might have known it, too. Fool! the lines—the harpoons he’s towing. Aye, aye, I have run him by last night. About! about! Come down, all of ye, but the regular look outs! Man the braces!”

“Nothing! And it’s nearly noon! No one has claimed the doubloon! Look at the sun! Yes, yes, it must be so. I’ve sailed past him. What, did he get ahead of me? Yes, he’s chasing me now, not I, him. That’s bad. I might have known it, too. Fool! The lines, the harpoons he’s towing. Yes, yes, I sailed past him last night. Turn around! Turn around! Come down, all of you, except the regular lookouts! Man the braces!”

Steering as she had done, the wind had been somewhat on the Pequod’s quarter, so that now being pointed in the reverse direction, the braced ship sailed hard upon the breeze as she rechurned the cream in her own white wake.

As the Pequod had been sailing, the wind had come from somewhat behind her. Now, facing the opposite direction, the ship had her sails adjusted to sail close against the wind. She churned the creamy foam of her own white wake again.

“Against the wind he now steers for the open jaw,” murmured Starbuck to himself, as he coiled the new-hauled main-brace upon the rail. “God keep us, but already my bones feel damp within me, and from the inside wet my flesh. I misdoubt me that I disobey my God in obeying him!”

“Now he steers against the wind, straight for the open jaws,” Starbuck murmured to himself. He coiled the newly hauled main-brace on the rail. “God help us, but already my bones feel damp inside me. They seem to wet my flesh from within. I fear that by obeying him, I am disobeying my God!”

“Stand by to sway me up!” cried Ahab, advancing to the hempen basket. “We should meet him soon.”

“Get ready to hoist me up!” Ahab cried, walking toward the rope basket. “We should meet him soon.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” and straightway Starbuck did Ahab’s bidding, and once more Ahab swung on high.

“Yes, sir,” said Starbuck, and immediately did as Ahab ordered. Once more, Ahab swung high above.

A whole hour now passed; gold-beaten out to ages. Time itself now held long breaths with keen suspense. But at last, some three points off the weather bow, Ahab descried the spout again, and instantly from the three mast-heads three shrieks went up as if the tongues of fire had voiced it.

A whole hour passed, stretched thin like gold into ages. Time itself seemed to hold its breath in suspense. But at last, Ahab spotted the spout again, about three points off the windward bow. Instantly, three shrieks rose from the three mastheads, as if tongues of fire had cried out.

“Forehead to forehead I meet thee, this third time, Moby Dick! On deck there!—brace sharper up; crowd her into the wind’s eye. He’s too far off to lower yet, Mr. Starbuck. The sails shake! Stand over that helmsman with a top-maul! So, so; he travels fast, and I must down. But let me have one more good round look aloft here at the sea; there’s time for that. An old, old sight, and yet somehow so young; aye, and not changed a wink since I first saw it, a boy, from the sand-hills of Nantucket! The same!—the same!—the same to Noah as to me. There’s a soft shower to leeward. Such lovely leewardings! They must lead somewhere—to something else than common land, more palmy than the palms. Leeward! the white whale goes that way; look to windward, then; the better if the bitterer quarter. But good bye, good bye, old mast-head! What’s this?—green? aye, tiny mosses in these warped cracks. No such green weather stains on Ahab’s head! There’s the difference now between man’s old age and matter’s. But aye, old mast, we both grow old together; sound in our hulls, though, are we not, my ship? Aye, minus a leg, that’s all. By heaven this dead wood has the better of my live flesh every way. I can’t compare with it; and I’ve known some ships made of dead trees outlast the lives of men made of the most vital stuff of vital fathers. What’s that he said? he should still go before me, my pilot; and yet to be seen again? But where? Will I have eyes at the bottom of the sea, supposing I descend those endless stairs? and all night I’ve been sailing from him, wherever he did sink to. Aye, aye, like many more thou told’st direful truth as touching thyself, O Parsee; but, Ahab, there thy shot fell short. Good-bye, mast-head—keep a good eye upon the whale, the while I’m gone. We’ll talk to-morrow, nay, to-night, when the white whale lies down there, tied by head and tail.”

“Face to face I meet you for the third time, Moby Dick! On deck there! Turn the sails closer to the wind. Steer her straight into it. He’s too far away to lower the boats yet, Mr. Starbuck. The sails are shaking! Stand over that helmsman with a top-maul! There, there. The whale is moving fast, and I must go down. But first, let me take one more good look at the sea from up here. There’s time for that. It’s such an old sight, yet somehow so young. Yes, it hasn’t changed a bit since I first saw it as a boy, from the sand hills of Nantucket! The same! The same! The sea was the same for Noah as it is for me. There’s a soft shower downwind. What lovely sights downwind! They must lead somewhere, to something other than ordinary land, more lush than palm trees. Downwind! The white whale is going that way. Then look into the wind instead. It’s the better direction, though the harsher one. But goodbye, goodbye, old masthead! What’s this? Green? Yes, tiny mosses in these warped cracks. No green weather stains like that on Ahab’s head! There’s the difference between old age in a man and in a thing. But yes, old mast, we’re growing old together. Our hulls are sound, though, aren’t they, my ship? Yes, except for a missing leg, that’s all. By heaven, this dead wood is better off than my living flesh in every way. I can’t compare with it. And I’ve known some ships made of dead trees to outlast men full of life, born to fathers full of life. What was it he said? My pilot would still go before me, and I would see him again? But where? Will I have eyes at the bottom of the sea, if I go down those endless stairs? And all night I’ve been sailing away from him, wherever he sank. Yes, yes, like many others, you spoke a dreadful truth about yourself, O Parsee. But, Ahab, your shot fell short there. Goodbye, masthead. Keep a good eye on the whale while I’m gone. We’ll talk tomorrow. No, tonight, when the white whale lies down there, tied by head and tail.”

He gave the word; and still gazing round him, was steadily lowered through the cloven blue air to the deck.

He gave the signal. Still looking around him, he was steadily lowered through the parted blue air to the deck.

In due time the boats were lowered; but as standing in his shallop’s stern, Ahab just hovered upon the point of the descent, he waved to the mate,—who held one of the tackle-ropes on deck—and bade him pause.

In time, the boats were lowered. But as Ahab stood in the stern of his boat, just about to descend, he waved to the mate. The mate was holding one of the ropes on deck. Ahab told him to wait.

“Starbuck!”

“Starbuck!”

“Sir?”

“Sir?”

“For the third time my soul’s ship starts upon this voyage, Starbuck.”

“For the third time, the ship of my soul sets out on this voyage, Starbuck.”

“Aye, sir, thou wilt have it so.”

“Yes, sir, if that's how you want it.”

“Some ships sail from their ports, and ever afterwards are missing, Starbuck!”

“Some ships leave port and are never seen again, Starbuck!”

“Truth, sir: saddest truth.”

“It’s true, sir. The saddest truth.”

“Some men die at ebb tide; some at low water; some at the full of the flood;—and I feel now like a billow that’s all one crested comb, Starbuck. I am old;—shake hands with me, man.”

“Some men die as the tide goes out. Some die at low tide. Some die at high tide. And now, Starbuck, I feel like a wave that is all crest. I am old. Shake hands with me, man.”

Their hands met; their eyes fastened; Starbuck’s tears the glue.

Their hands met. Their eyes locked. Starbuck’s tears were the glue.

“Oh, my captain, my captain!—noble heart—go not—go not!—see, it’s a brave man that weeps; how great the agony of the persuasion then!”

“Oh, my captain, my captain! Noble heart, don’t go, don’t go! Look, a brave man is weeping. How agonizing his plea must be!”

“Lower away!”—cried Ahab, tossing the mate’s arm from him. “Stand by the crew!”

“Lower the boats!” cried Ahab, pushing the mate’s arm away. “Stand by the crew!”

In an instant the boat was pulling round close under the stern.

In an instant, the boat was rowing around close behind the stern.

“The sharks! the sharks!” cried a voice from the low cabin-window there; “O master, my master, come back!”

“The sharks! The sharks!” cried a voice from the low cabin window. “Oh, master, my master, come back!”

But Ahab heard nothing; for his own voice was high-lifted then; and the boat leaped on.

But Ahab heard nothing because his own voice was raised then, and the boat leaped onward.

Yet the voice spake true; for scarce had he pushed from the ship, when numbers of sharks, seemingly rising from out the dark waters beneath the hull, maliciously snapped at the blades of the oars, every time they dipped in the water; and in this way accompanied the boat with their bites. It is a thing not uncommonly happening to the whale-boats in those swarming seas; the sharks at times apparently following them in the same prescient way that vultures hover over the banners of marching regiments in the east. But these were the first sharks that had been observed by the Pequod since the White Whale had been first descried; and whether it was that Ahab’s crew were all such tiger-yellow barbarians, and therefore their flesh more musky to the senses of the sharks—a matter sometimes well known to affect them,—however it was, they seemed to follow that one boat without molesting the others.

Yet the voice had spoken the truth. No sooner had he pushed away from the ship than many sharks appeared, seemingly rising from the dark water beneath the hull. They viciously snapped at the oar blades every time they dipped into the water. Biting this way, they accompanied the boat. This often happens to whaleboats in those swarming seas. The sharks sometimes seem to follow them with the same foreknowledge as vultures hovering over the banners of marching regiments in the east. But these were the first sharks seen by the Pequod since the White Whale had first been sighted. Perhaps it was because Ahab’s crew were all tiger-yellow barbarians, whose flesh smelled muskier to the sharks. Such things are sometimes known to affect sharks. Whatever the reason, the sharks seemed to follow that one boat without bothering the others.

“Heart of wrought steel!” murmured Starbuck gazing over the side, and following with his eyes the receding boat—“canst thou yet ring boldly to that sight?—lowering thy keel among ravening sharks, and followed by them, open-mouthed to the chase; and this the critical third day?—For when three days flow together in one continuous intense pursuit; be sure the first is the morning, the second the noon, and the third the evening and the end of that thing—be that end what it may. Oh! my God! what is this that shoots through me, and leaves me so deadly calm, yet expectant,—fixed at the top of a shudder! Future things swim before me, as in empty outlines and skeletons; all the past is somehow grown dim. Mary, girl! thou fadest in pale glories behind me; boy! I seem to see but thy eyes grown wondrous blue. Strangest problems of life seem clearing; but clouds sweep between—Is my journey’s end coming? My legs feel faint; like his who has footed it all day. Feel thy heart,—beats it yet? Stir thyself, Starbuck!—stave it off—move, move! speak aloud!—Mast-head there! See ye my boy’s hand on the hill?—Crazed;—aloft there!—keep thy keenest eye upon the boats:—mark well the whale!—Ho! again!—drive off that hawk! see! he pecks—he tears the vane”—pointing to the red flag flying at the main-truck—“Ha! he soars away with it!—Where’s the old man now? see’st thou that sight, oh Ahab!—shudder, shudder!”

“Heart of forged steel!” murmured Starbuck, gazing over the side and watching the boat move away. “Can you still ring boldly at that sight? You lower your keel among ravenous sharks, and they follow you into the chase with open mouths. And this is the critical third day? For when three days flow together in one continuous, intense pursuit, the first is surely its morning, the second its noon, and the third its evening and its end, whatever that end may be. “Oh, my God! What is this that shoots through me? It leaves me deathly calm, yet waiting, poised at the height of a shudder! The future swims before me in empty outlines and skeletons. Somehow, all the past has grown dim. Mary, girl! You fade behind me in pale glories. Boy! I seem to see only your eyes, grown wonderfully blue. Life’s strangest mysteries seem to be clearing, but clouds sweep between us. Is my journey’s end coming? My legs feel weak, like those of a man who has walked all day. Feel your heart. Is it still beating? Pull yourself together, Starbuck! Fight it off. Move, move! Speak aloud! “Lookout at the masthead! Can you see my boy’s hand on the hill? I’m out of my mind. Lookout up there! Keep your sharpest eye on the boats. Watch the whale closely! Hey! Again! Drive off that hawk! Look! He’s pecking, he’s tearing the vane.” He pointed to the red flag flying at the top of the mainmast. “Ha! He’s flying away with it! Where’s the old man now? Do you see that sight, oh Ahab? Shudder, shudder!”

The boats had not gone very far, when by a signal from the mast-heads—a downward pointed arm, Ahab knew that the whale had sounded; but intending to be near him at the next rising, he held on his way a little sideways from the vessel; the becharmed crew maintaining the profoundest silence, as the head-beat waves hammered and hammered against the opposing bow.

The boats had not gone far when a signal from the mastheads, an arm pointing downward, told Ahab the whale had dived. But Ahab wanted to be near the whale when it next surfaced, so he continued on, heading slightly away from the ship. The spellbound crew remained completely silent as the oncoming waves hammered again and again against the bow.

“Drive, drive in your nails, oh ye waves! to their uttermost heads drive them in! ye but strike a thing without a lid; and no coffin and no hearse can be mine:—and hemp only can kill me! Ha! ha!”

“Drive your nails in, waves! Drive them all the way to their heads! You only strike a thing without a lid. No coffin or hearse can be mine, and only hemp can kill me! Ha! Ha!”

Suddenly the waters around them slowly swelled in broad circles; then quickly upheaved, as if sideways sliding from a submerged berg of ice, swiftly rising to the surface. A low rumbling sound was heard; a subterraneous hum; and then all held their breaths; as bedraggled with trailing ropes, and harpoons, and lances, a vast form shot lengthwise, but obliquely from the sea. Shrouded in a thin drooping veil of mist, it hovered for a moment in the rainbowed air; and then fell swamping back into the deep. Crushed thirty feet upwards, the waters flashed for an instant like heaps of fountains, then brokenly sank in a shower of flakes, leaving the circling surface creamed like new milk round the marble trunk of the whale.

Suddenly, the water around them slowly swelled in broad circles. Then it rose quickly, as if sliding sideways off a submerged iceberg rushing to the surface. They heard a low rumble, a hum from beneath the water. Then all held their breath as a vast form shot out of the sea, lengthwise and at an angle. Ropes, harpoons, and lances trailed from its body. Draped in a thin veil of mist, the whale hung for a moment in the rainbow-colored air. Then it fell back into the deep with a tremendous splash. The water, forced thirty feet into the air, flashed for an instant like heaps of fountains. Then it fell in scattered flakes, leaving the circling surface foamy as fresh milk around the whale's marble-white body.

“Give way!” cried Ahab to the oarsmen, and the boats darted forward to the attack; but maddened by yesterday’s fresh irons that corroded in him, Moby Dick seemed combinedly possessed by all the angels that fell from heaven. The wide tiers of welded tendons overspreading his broad white forehead, beneath the transparent skin, looked knitted together; as head on, he came churning his tail among the boats; and once more flailed them apart; spilling out the irons and lances from the two mates’ boats, and dashing in one side of the upper part of their bows, but leaving Ahab’s almost without a scar.

“Row!” Ahab cried to the oarsmen, and the boats darted forward to attack. But the fresh harpoons from yesterday were corroding inside Moby Dick, driving him mad. He seemed possessed by all the angels who had fallen from heaven. Beneath the transparent skin of his broad white forehead, wide layers of fused tendons looked knitted together. He came head-on, churning his tail among the boats, and once more beat them apart. He knocked the harpoons and lances out of the two mates’ boats and smashed one side of each boat’s upper bow. But he left Ahab’s boat almost without a scar.

While Daggoo and Queequeg were stopping the strained planks; and as the whale swimming out from them, turned, and showed one entire flank as he shot by them again; at that moment a quick cry went up. Lashed round and round to the fish’s back; pinioned in the turns upon turns in which, during the past night, the whale had reeled the involutions of the lines around him, the half torn body of the Parsee was seen; his sable raiment frayed to shreds; his distended eyes turned full upon old Ahab.

While Daggoo and Queequeg were plugging the strained planks, the whale swam away from them. Then it turned and shot past them again, showing its entire side. At that moment, a sudden cry went up. The Parsee’s half-torn body could be seen lashed to the whale’s back. During the night, the whale had wound the lines around itself, trapping him in their coils. His black clothing was torn to shreds, and his bulging eyes stared straight at old Ahab.

The harpoon dropped from his hand.

The harpoon dropped from his hand.

“Befooled, befooled!”—drawing in a long lean breath—“Aye, Parsee! I see thee again.—Aye, and thou goest before; and this, this then is the hearse that thou didst promise. But I hold thee to the last letter of thy word. Where is the second hearse? Away, mates, to the ship! those boats are useless now; repair them if ye can in time, and return to me; if not, Ahab is enough to die—Down, men! the first thing that but offers to jump from this boat I stand in, that thing I harpoon. Ye are not other men, but my arms and my legs; and so obey me.—Where’s the whale? gone down again?”

“Fooled, fooled!” He drew a long, lean breath. “Yes, Parsee! I see you again. Yes, and you go before me. So this, this is the hearse you promised. But I hold you to every last letter of your word. Where is the second hearse? Go, mates, back to the ship! Those boats are useless now. Repair them if you can in time, and return to me. If not, Ahab can die alone. Down, men! The first thing that tries to jump from this boat, I harpoon. You are not separate men, but my arms and legs. So obey me. Where’s the whale? Has it gone down again?”

But he looked too nigh the boat; for as if bent upon escaping with the corpse he bore, and as if the particular place of the last encounter had been but a stage in his leeward voyage, Moby Dick was now again steadily swimming forward; and had almost passed the ship,—which thus far had been sailing in the contrary direction to him, though for the present her headway had been stopped. He seemed swimming with his utmost velocity, and now only intent upon pursuing his own straight path in the sea.

But he looked too close to the boat. For Moby Dick was steadily swimming forward again, as if determined to escape with the corpse he carried. It was as if the place of the last encounter had been merely a stop on his journey downwind. He had almost passed the ship. Until then, the ship had been sailing in the opposite direction, though for the moment it had stopped moving forward. He seemed to be swimming as fast as he could, intent now only on following his own straight path through the sea.

“Oh! Ahab,” cried Starbuck, “not too late is it, even now, the third day, to desist. See! Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that madly seekest him!”

“Oh, Ahab,” cried Starbuck, “it is not too late to stop, even now, on the third day. Look! Moby Dick is not seeking you. You, you are the one madly seeking him!”

Setting sail to the rising wind, the lonely boat was swiftly impelled to leeward, by both oars and canvas. And at last when Ahab was sliding by the vessel, so near as plainly to distinguish Starbuck’s face as he leaned over the rail, he hailed him to turn the vessel about, and follow him, not too swiftly, at a judicious interval. Glancing upwards, he saw Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo, eagerly mounting to the three mast-heads; while the oarsmen were rocking in the two staved boats which had but just been hoisted to the side, and were busily at work in repairing them. One after the other, through the port-holes, as he sped, he also caught flying glimpses of Stubb and Flask, busying themselves on deck among bundles of new irons and lances. As he saw all this; as he heard the hammers in the broken boats; far other hammers seemed driving a nail into his heart. But he rallied. And now marking that the vane or flag was gone from the main-mast-head, he shouted to Tashtego, who had just gained that perch, to descend again for another flag, and a hammer and nails, and so nail it to the mast.

They set sail as the wind rose, and oars and sail drove the lone boat swiftly downwind. At last, Ahab passed close enough to the ship to see Starbuck’s face clearly as he leaned over the rail. Ahab called to him to turn the ship around and follow at a sensible distance, but not too quickly. Looking up, Ahab saw Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo eagerly climbing to the tops of the three masts. Meanwhile, the oarsmen rocked in the two smashed boats, which had just been hoisted alongside the ship. They were busy repairing them. As Ahab sped past the portholes, he caught brief glimpses of Stubb and Flask on deck. One after the other, he saw them working among bundles of new harpoons and lances. As Ahab watched all this and heard the hammers in the broken boats, other hammers seemed to drive a nail into his heart. But he pulled himself together. He noticed that the vane, or flag, was missing from the top of the main mast. Tashtego had just reached the top, and Ahab shouted to him to climb down again. He told Tashtego to fetch another flag, a hammer, and nails, and nail the flag to the mast.

Whether fagged by the three days’ running chase, and the resistance to his swimming in the knotted hamper he bore; or whether it was some latent deceitfulness and malice in him: whichever was true, the White Whale’s way now began to abate, as it seemed, from the boat so rapidly nearing him once more; though indeed the whale’s last start had not been so long a one as before. And still as Ahab glided over the waves the unpitying sharks accompanied him; and so pertinaciously stuck to the boat; and so continually bit at the plying oars, that the blades became jagged and crunched, and left small splinters in the sea, at almost every dip.

Perhaps the three days of pursuit had exhausted the White Whale. Perhaps the tangled gear he carried had slowed his swimming, or perhaps some hidden deceit and malice lay behind his actions. Whatever the reason, he now seemed to slow down as the boat rapidly approached him again. Though in fact, his last burst of speed had not carried him as far as before. Still, as Ahab glided over the waves, the merciless sharks accompanied him. They stayed so stubbornly close to the boat and bit so often at the working oars that the blades became jagged and battered. Almost every stroke left small splinters in the sea.

“Heed them not! those teeth but give new rowlocks to your oars. Pull on! ’tis the better rest, the shark’s jaw than the yielding water.”

“Don’t mind them! Those teeth just give your oars new oarlocks. Keep rowing! The shark’s jaw is a better support than the yielding water.”

“But at every bite, sir, the thin blades grow smaller and smaller!”

“But with every bite, sir, the thin blades get smaller and smaller!”

“They will last long enough! pull on!—But who can tell”—he muttered—“whether these sharks swim to feast on the whale or on Ahab?—But pull on! Aye, all alive, now—we near him. The helm! take the helm! let me pass,”—and so saying two of the oarsmen helped him forward to the bows of the still flying boat.

“They’ll last long enough! Keep rowing! But who can tell,” he muttered, “whether these sharks are swimming to feast on the whale or on Ahab? But keep rowing! Yes, put your backs into it now. We’re getting close to him. The helm! Take the helm! Let me through.” As he spoke, two of the rowers helped him forward to the bow of the boat, which was still speeding along.

At length as the craft was cast to one side, and ran ranging along with the White Whale’s flank, he seemed strangely oblivious of its advance—as the whale sometimes will—and Ahab was fairly within the smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off from the whale’s spout, curled round his great, Monadnock hump; he was even thus close to him; when, with body arched back, and both arms lengthwise high-lifted to the poise, he darted his fierce iron, and his far fiercer curse into the hated whale. As both steel and curse sank to the socket, as if sucked into a morass, Moby Dick sideways writhed; spasmodically rolled his nigh flank against the bow, and, without staving a hole in it, so suddenly canted the boat over, that had it not been for the elevated part of the gunwale to which he then clung, Ahab would once more have been tossed into the sea. As it was, three of the oarsmen—who foreknew not the precise instant of the dart, and were therefore unprepared for its effects—these were flung out; but so fell, that, in an instant two of them clutched the gunwale again, and rising to its level on a combing wave, hurled themselves bodily inboard again; the third man helplessly dropping astern, but still afloat and swimming.

At last, the boat was pushed to one side and ran alongside the White Whale’s flank. He seemed strangely unaware of its approach, as whales sometimes are. Ahab was surrounded by the smoky mountain mist from the whale’s spout, which curled around his huge Monadnock hump. Ahab was that close to him. Arching his body back and raising both arms high to aim, he hurled his fierce harpoon and an even fiercer curse into the hated whale. As both steel and curse sank to the socket, as if sucked into a swamp, Moby Dick twisted sideways. He rolled his near flank violently against the bow. Though he did not break a hole in it, he tipped the boat so suddenly that Ahab would have been thrown into the sea again if he had not been clinging to the raised side. Even so, three of the oarsmen were thrown out. They had not known the exact moment Ahab would throw the harpoon, so they were unprepared for what followed. Two of them immediately grabbed the gunwale again. A breaking wave lifted them level with it, and they threw themselves back into the boat. The third man fell helplessly behind, but he was still afloat and swimming.

Almost simultaneously, with a mighty volition of ungraduated, instantaneous swiftness, the White Whale darted through the weltering sea. But when Ahab cried out to the steersman to take new turns with the line, and hold it so; and commanded the crew to turn round on their seats, and tow the boat up to the mark; the moment the treacherous line felt that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!

Almost at the same moment, the White Whale darted through the churning sea with a mighty surge of will, reaching full speed instantly. But Ahab called to the steersman to take more turns of the line and hold it that way. He ordered the crew to turn around on their seats and pull the boat up to the mark. The moment the treacherous line felt that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!

“What breaks in me? Some sinew cracks!—’tis whole again; oars! oars! Burst in upon him!”

“What breaks inside me? Some tendon snaps! It's whole again. Oars! Oars! Charge at him!”

Hearing the tremendous rush of the sea-crashing boat, the whale wheeled round to present his blank forehead at bay; but in that evolution, catching sight of the nearing black hull of the ship; seemingly seeing in it the source of all his persecutions; bethinking it—it may be—a larger and nobler foe; of a sudden, he bore down upon its advancing prow, smiting his jaws amid fiery showers of foam.

Hearing the boat rushing through the crashing sea, the whale turned to face it with his smooth forehead. But as he turned, he caught sight of the ship's black hull approaching. He seemed to see the ship as the source of all his torment. Perhaps he thought it a larger and nobler enemy. Suddenly, he charged its advancing bow, snapping his jaws amid fiery showers of foam.

Ahab staggered; his hand smote his forehead. “I grow blind; hands! stretch out before me that I may yet grope my way. Is’t night?”

Ahab staggered and struck his forehead with his hand. “I am going blind. Hands, reach out in front of me so I can still feel my way. Is it night?”

“The whale! The ship!” cried the cringing oarsmen.

“The whale! The ship!” cried the oarsmen, cowering in fear.

“Oars! oars! Slope downwards to thy depths, O sea, that ere it be for ever too late, Ahab may slide this last, last time upon his mark! I see: the ship! the ship! Dash on, my men! Will ye not save my ship?”

“Oars! Oars! O sea, slope down into your depths, so Ahab may reach his target one last time before it is forever too late! I see it: the ship! The ship! Row on, men! Won’t you save my ship?”

But as the oarsmen violently forced their boat through the sledge-hammering seas, the before whale-smitten bow-ends of two planks burst through, and in an instant almost, the temporarily disabled boat lay nearly level with the waves; its half-wading, splashing crew, trying hard to stop the gap and bale out the pouring water.

But as the oarsmen drove their boat hard through the pounding seas, the front ends of two planks burst open. The whale had damaged them earlier. Almost instantly, the disabled boat lay nearly level with the waves. The crew stood half submerged, splashing as they struggled to plug the gap and bail out the pouring water.

Meantime, for that one beholding instant, Tashtego’s mast-head hammer remained suspended in his hand; and the red flag, half-wrapping him as with a plaid, then streamed itself straight out from him, as his own forward-flowing heart; while Starbuck and Stubb, standing upon the bowsprit beneath, caught sight of the down-coming monster just as soon as he.

Meanwhile, in that instant of seeing, Tashtego’s hammer hung motionless in his hand at the masthead. The red flag, half-wrapped around him like a plaid, streamed straight out from him, like his own heart flowing forward. Below him on the bowsprit, Starbuck and Stubb saw the descending monster at the same moment Tashtego did.

“The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye sweet powers of air, now hug me close! Let not Starbuck die, if die he must, in a woman’s fainting fit. Up helm, I say—ye fools, the jaw! the jaw! Is this the end of all my bursting prayers? all my life-long fidelities? Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman, steady. Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow drives on towards one, whose duty tells him he cannot depart. My God, stand by me now!”

“The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all you sweet powers of the air, hold me close now! If Starbuck must die, don’t let him die fainting like a woman. Up helm, I say, you fools! The jaw! The jaw! Is this the end of all my desperate prayers? All my lifelong devotion? Oh, Ahab, Ahab, look at what you’ve done. Steady, helmsman, steady. No, no! Up helm again! He’s turning to meet us! Oh, his relentless brow bears down on a man whose duty tells him he cannot leave. My God, stand by me now!”

“Stand not by me, but stand under me, whoever you are that will now help Stubb; for Stubb, too, sticks here. I grin at thee, thou grinning whale! Who ever helped Stubb, or kept Stubb awake, but Stubb’s own unwinking eye? And now poor Stubb goes to bed upon a mattrass that is all too soft; would it were stuffed with brushwood! I grin at thee, thou grinning whale! Look ye, sun, moon, and stars! I call ye assassins of as good a fellow as ever spouted up his ghost. For all that, I would yet ring glasses with ye, would ye but hand the cup! Oh, oh! oh, oh! thou grinning whale, but there’ll be plenty of gulping soon! Why fly ye not, O Ahab! For me, off shoes and jacket to it; let Stubb die in his drawers! A most mouldy and over salted death, though;—cherries! cherries! cherries! Oh, Flask, for one red cherry ere we die!”

“Don’t stand beside me, but stand under me, whoever you are who will help Stubb now. Stubb is stuck here too. I grin at you, you grinning whale! Who ever helped Stubb, or kept him awake, except Stubb’s own unblinking eye? And now poor Stubb goes to bed on a mattress that is far too soft. If only it were stuffed with brushwood! I grin at you, you grinning whale! Look here, sun, moon, and stars! I call you the murderers of as good a fellow as ever breathed his last. Even so, I would still clink glasses with you, if only you would hand me the cup! Oh, oh! Oh, oh! You grinning whale, there’ll be plenty of gulping soon! Why don’t you flee, Ahab? As for me, off with my shoes and jacket. Let Stubb die in his drawers! A very moldy and oversalted death, though. Cherries! Cherries! Cherries! Oh, Flask, if only I had one red cherry before we die!”

“Cherries? I only wish that we were where they grow. Oh, Stubb, I hope my poor mother’s drawn my part-pay ere this; if not, few coppers will now come to her, for the voyage is up.”

“Cherries? I only wish we were where they grow. Oh, Stubb, I hope my poor mother has collected my advance pay by now. If not, she’ll get only a few pennies, because the voyage is over.”

From the ship’s bows, nearly all the seamen now hung inactive; hammers, bits of plank, lances, and harpoons, mechanically retained in their hands, just as they had darted from their various employments; all their enchanted eyes intent upon the whale, which from side to side strangely vibrating his predestinating head, sent a broad band of overspreading semicircular foam before him as he rushed. Retribution, swift vengeance, eternal malice were in his whole aspect, and spite of all that mortal man could do, the solid white buttress of his forehead smote the ship’s starboard bow, till men and timbers reeled. Some fell flat upon their faces. Like dislodged trucks, the heads of the harpooneers aloft shook on their bull-like necks. Through the breach, they heard the waters pour, as mountain torrents down a flume.

Nearly all the sailors now hung motionless over the ship’s bows. They still held hammers, pieces of plank, lances, and harpoons, just as they had when they rushed from their work. All stared at the whale as if spellbound. As he charged, he swung his doomed head strangely from side to side, driving a wide semicircle of foam before him. His whole appearance spoke of retribution, swift vengeance, and eternal malice. Despite everything the men could do, his massive white forehead struck the ship’s starboard bow, making men and timbers reel. Some fell flat on their faces. The heads of the harpooners high above shook on their bull-like necks, like wheels jolted loose from their axles. Through the breach, they heard water pouring in like mountain torrents rushing down a channel.

“The ship! The hearse!—the second hearse!” cried Ahab from the boat; “its wood could only be American!”

“The ship! The hearse! The second hearse!” Ahab cried from the boat. “The ship’s wood could only be American!”

Diving beneath the settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its keel; but turning under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far off the other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab’s boat, where, for a time, he lay quiescent.

The whale dived beneath the sinking ship and swam, trembling, along its keel. But it turned underwater and quickly shot back to the surface. It surfaced far off the ship’s other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab’s boat. There it lay still for a while.

“I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow,—death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!”

“I turn my body away from the sun. Hey, Tashtego! Let me hear your hammer. Oh, my three masts that have not yet given way, my uncracked keel, and my hull, battered only by a god. My firm deck, my proud helm, and my bow pointed toward the Pole. My ship, glorious in death! Must you perish without me? Am I denied the last cherished pride of even the lowliest shipwrecked captain? Oh, a lonely death after a lonely life! Oh, now I feel that my greatest greatness lies in my greatest grief. Ho, ho! From your farthest reaches, pour in now, you bold waves of my whole past life. Rise above this one towering wave of my death! Toward you I roll, you whale that destroys everything but conquers nothing. To the last, I fight you. From the heart of hell I stab at you. For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at you. Let all coffins and all hearses sink into one common pool! And since neither can be mine, let me be torn to pieces as I am towed along, still chasing you, though tied to you, you damned whale! With this, I let go of the spear!”

The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the grooves;—ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope’s final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths.

The harpoon was thrown, and the wounded whale surged forward. The line raced through the grooves with scorching speed, then tangled. Ahab bent down and cleared it. But a flying loop caught him around the neck. Silently, as Turkish mutes strangle their victim with a bowstring, it pulled him out of the boat. The crew did not even know he was gone. The next instant, the heavy eye-splice at the very end of the rope flew out of the empty tub. It knocked down an oarsman, struck the sea, and disappeared into the depths.

For an instant, the tranced boat’s crew stood still; then turned. “The ship? Great God, where is the ship?” Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight.

For a moment, the boat’s crew stood still, as if in a trance. Then they turned. “The ship? Great God, where is the ship?” Soon, through a dim, confusing haze, they saw the ship’s fading outline tilted sideways, like a phantom in a Fata Morgana mirage. Only the topmost masts remained above water. Yet the pagan harpooneers still kept watch over the sea from their sinking perches, once so high above it. They remained there, held by obsession, loyalty, or fate. Now widening circles seized the lone boat itself, all its crew, each floating oar, and every lance-pole. Everything, living and lifeless, spun round and round in one whirlpool. The whirlpool carried even the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight.

But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched;—at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it.

But the last waves poured over the submerged head of the Indian at the mainmast. Only a few inches of the upright mast remained visible, along with long streaming stretches of the flag. The flag waved calmly, as if in irony, above the destructive waves it almost touched. At that moment, a red arm and a hammer rose in the open air. Tashtego was hammering the flag tighter and tighter to the sinking mast. A sky-hawk had mockingly followed the top of the mainmast down from its natural home among the stars. It pecked at the flag and bothered Tashtego. Now the bird happened to catch its broad, fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood. Beneath the water, Tashtego felt the bird’s airy trembling and, in his dying gasp, held the hammer frozen there. And so the bird of heaven went down with the ship, shrieking like an archangel, its imperial beak thrust upward. Its whole captive body was wrapped in Ahab’s flag. Like Satan, the ship would not sink to hell until she had dragged a living part of heaven down with her and worn it like a helmet.

Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

Small birds flew screaming over the still-gaping gulf. A gloomy white surf beat against its steep sides. Then everything collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on, just as it had five thousand years ago.