The First Boat Launch

The phantoms, for so they then seemed, were flitting on the other side of the deck, and, with a noiseless celerity, were casting loose the tackles and bands of the boat which swung there. This boat had always been deemed one of the spare boats, though technically called the captain’s, on account of its hanging from the starboard quarter. The figure that now stood by its bows was tall and swart, with one white tooth evilly protruding from its steel-like lips. A rumpled Chinese jacket of black cotton funereally invested him, with wide black trowsers of the same dark stuff. But strangely crowning this ebonness was a glistening white plaited turban, the living hair braided and coiled round and round upon his head. Less swart in aspect, the companions of this figure were of that vivid, tiger-yellow complexion peculiar to some of the aboriginal natives of the Manillas;—a race notorious for a certain diabolism of subtilty, and by some honest white mariners supposed to be the paid spies and secret confidential agents on the water of the devil, their lord, whose counting-room they suppose to be elsewhere.

The figures, which seemed like phantoms then, were moving swiftly across the other side of the deck. Without a sound, they were unfastening the ropes and bands holding the boat that hung there. The boat had always been considered a spare, though it was technically called the captain’s boat because it hung from the starboard quarter. The figure now standing by its bow was tall and dark-skinned, with one white tooth jutting wickedly from his steel-like lips. He wore a rumpled black cotton Chinese jacket that draped him like funeral clothing, and wide black trousers of the same dark fabric. But strangely crowning all this blackness was a gleaming white braided turban, made of living hair coiled round and round his head. His companions were less dark, with the vivid, tiger-yellow complexion peculiar to some of the native peoples of the Manillas. These people were notorious for a certain devilish cunning. Some honest white sailors believed they were the devil’s paid spies and secret trusted agents on the water. The sailors believed the devil was their lord and had his counting-room elsewhere.

While yet the wondering ship’s company were gazing upon these strangers, Ahab cried out to the white-turbaned old man at their head, “All ready there, Fedallah?”

As the astonished crew stared at the strangers, Ahab called out to the old man leading them, who wore a white turban. “All ready there, Fedallah?”

“Ready,” was the half-hissed reply.

“Ready,” came the half-hissed reply.

“Lower away then; d’ye hear?” shouting across the deck. “Lower away there, I say.”

“Lower away, then. Do you hear?” he shouted across the deck. “Lower away, I say.”

Such was the thunder of his voice, that spite of their amazement the men sprang over the rail; the sheaves whirled round in the blocks; with a wallow, the three boats dropped into the sea; while, with a dexterous, off-handed daring, unknown in any other vocation, the sailors, goat-like, leaped down the rolling ship’s side into the tossed boats below.

His voice thundered so loudly that, despite their amazement, the men sprang over the rail. The pulleys spun, and the three boats plunged into the sea. As the ship rolled, the sailors leaped down its side like goats into the boats tossing below. Their leaps showed an easy skill and daring found in no other line of work.

Hardly had they pulled out from under the ship’s lee, when a fourth keel, coming from the windward side, pulled round under the stern, and showed the five strangers rowing Ahab, who, standing erect in the stern, loudly hailed Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask, to spread themselves widely, so as to cover a large expanse of water. But with all their eyes again riveted upon the swart Fedallah and his crew, the inmates of the other boats obeyed not the command.

They had hardly rowed out from the shelter of the ship when a fourth boat came around the stern from the windward side. Five strangers were rowing Ahab, who stood upright in the stern. He shouted to Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask to spread out so they could cover a large area of water. But everyone in the other boats was staring again at the dark-skinned Fedallah and his crew, and they did not obey.

“Captain Ahab?—” said Starbuck.

“Captain Ahab?” said Starbuck.

“Spread yourselves,” cried Ahab; “give way, all four boats. Thou, Flask, pull out more to leeward!”

“Spread out,” cried Ahab. “Row, all four boats. Flask, row farther downwind!”

“Aye, aye, sir,” cheerily cried little King-Post, sweeping round his great steering oar. “Lay back!” addressing his crew. “There!—there!—there again! There she blows right ahead, boys!—lay back!”

“Yes, sir,” little King-Post called cheerfully, swinging his great steering oar around. “Pull back!” he called to his crew. “There! There! There again! There she blows, right ahead, boys! Pull back!”

“Never heed yonder yellow boys, Archy.”

“Never mind those yellow boys over there, Archy.”

“Oh, I don’t mind ’em, sir,” said Archy; “I knew it all before now. Didn’t I hear ’em in the hold? And didn’t I tell Cabaco here of it? What say ye, Cabaco? They are stowaways, Mr. Flask.”

“Oh, I don’t mind them, sir,” said Archy. “I knew all about it already. Didn’t I hear them in the hold? And didn’t I tell Cabaco here about it? What do you say, Cabaco? They’re stowaways, Mr. Flask.”

“Pull, pull, my fine hearts-alive; pull, my children; pull, my little ones,” drawlingly and soothingly sighed Stubb to his crew, some of whom still showed signs of uneasiness. “Why don’t you break your backbones, my boys? What is it you stare at? Those chaps in yonder boat? Tut! They are only five more hands come to help us—never mind from where—the more the merrier. Pull, then, do pull; never mind the brimstone—devils are good fellows enough. So, so; there you are now; that’s the stroke for a thousand pounds; that’s the stroke to sweep the stakes! Hurrah for the gold cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three cheers, men—all hearts alive! Easy, easy; don’t be in a hurry—don’t be in a hurry. Why don’t you snap your oars, you rascals? Bite something, you dogs! So, so, so, then:—softly, softly! That’s it—that’s it! long and strong. Give way there, give way! The devil fetch ye, ye ragamuffin rapscallions; ye are all asleep. Stop snoring, ye sleepers, and pull. Pull, will ye? pull, can’t ye? pull, won’t ye? Why in the name of gudgeons and ginger-cakes don’t ye pull?—pull and break something! pull, and start your eyes out! Here!” whipping out the sharp knife from his girdle; “every mother’s son of ye draw his knife, and pull with the blade between his teeth. That’s it—that’s it. Now ye do something; that looks like it, my steel-bits. Start her—start her, my silver-spoons! Start her, marling-spikes!”

“Pull, pull, my lively hearts. Pull, my children. Pull, my little ones,” Stubb sighed slowly and soothingly to his crew. Some of them still seemed uneasy. “Why don’t you break your backs, boys? What are you staring at? Those fellows in that boat over there? Nonsense! They’re only five more hands come to help us. Never mind where they came from. The more the merrier. Pull, then, do pull. Never mind the brimstone. Devils are good enough fellows. There, there. Now you’ve got it. That’s the stroke worth a thousand pounds. That’s the stroke to win the whole prize! Hurrah for the gold cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three cheers, men. Everyone full of life! Easy, easy. Don’t hurry, don’t hurry. Why don’t you snap your oars, you rascals? Bite something, you dogs! There, there, there. Gently, gently! That’s it, that’s it! Long and strong. Pull there, pull! The devil take you, you scruffy scoundrels. You’re all asleep. Stop snoring, you sleepers, and pull. Pull, will you? Pull, can’t you? Pull, won’t you? Why in the name of gudgeons and ginger cakes don’t you pull? Pull and break something! Pull until your eyes pop out! Here!” He whipped the sharp knife from his belt. “Every one of you, draw your knife and pull with the blade between your teeth. That’s it, that’s it. Now you’re doing something. That looks right, my steel bits. Get her moving, get her moving, my silver spoons! Get her moving, marling spikes!”

Stubb’s exordium to his crew is given here at large, because he had rather a peculiar way of talking to them in general, and especially in inculcating the religion of rowing. But you must not suppose from this specimen of his sermonizings that he ever flew into downright passions with his congregation. Not at all; and therein consisted his chief peculiarity. He would say the most terrific things to his crew, in a tone so strangely compounded of fun and fury, and the fury seemed so calculated merely as a spice to the fun, that no oarsman could hear such queer invocations without pulling for dear life, and yet pulling for the mere joke of the thing. Besides he all the time looked so easy and indolent himself, so loungingly managed his steering-oar, and so broadly gaped—open-mouthed at times—that the mere sight of such a yawning commander, by sheer force of contrast, acted like a charm upon the crew. Then again, Stubb was one of those odd sort of humorists, whose jollity is sometimes so curiously ambiguous, as to put all inferiors on their guard in the matter of obeying them.

Stubb’s opening speech to his crew is given here in full because he generally spoke to them in a rather peculiar way. He was especially peculiar when preaching the religion of rowing. But this example of his preaching should not make you think he ever flew into a real rage with his congregation. Not at all. That was his chief peculiarity. He would say the most terrifying things to his crew in a tone that strangely mixed fun and fury. The fury seemed calculated merely to spice up the fun. No oarsman could hear such strange calls without rowing for dear life, yet rowing for the sheer joke of it. Besides, Stubb himself looked so relaxed and lazy all the time. He handled his steering-oar as if he were lounging, and sometimes yawned with his mouth wide open. By sheer contrast, the sight of such a yawning commander worked like a charm on the crew. Stubb was also one of those odd humorists whose jollity is sometimes so strangely ambiguous that their subordinates stay alert to obey them.

In obedience to a sign from Ahab, Starbuck was now pulling obliquely across Stubb’s bow; and when for a minute or so the two boats were pretty near to each other, Stubb hailed the mate.

At a signal from Ahab, Starbuck rowed diagonally across the front of Stubb’s boat. The two boats were fairly close for a minute or so, and Stubb called out to the mate.

“Mr. Starbuck! larboard boat there, ahoy! a word with ye, sir, if ye please!”

“Mr. Starbuck! Port boat, ahoy! A word with you, sir, if you please!”

“Halloa!” returned Starbuck, turning round not a single inch as he spoke; still earnestly but whisperingly urging his crew; his face set like a flint from Stubb’s.

“Hello!” Starbuck replied without turning around at all. He kept urging his crew on earnestly in a whisper, his face set like flint and turned away from Stubb.

“What think ye of those yellow boys, sir!”

“What do you think of those gold coins, sir!”

“Smuggled on board, somehow, before the ship sailed. (Strong, strong, boys!)” in a whisper to his crew, then speaking out loud again: “A sad business, Mr. Stubb! (seethe her, seethe her, my lads!) but never mind, Mr. Stubb, all for the best. Let all your crew pull strong, come what will. (Spring, my men, spring!) There’s hogsheads of sperm ahead, Mr. Stubb, and that’s what ye came for. (Pull, my boys!) Sperm, sperm’s the play! This at least is duty; duty and profit hand in hand.”

“Smuggled aboard somehow before the ship sailed. (Pull hard, boys, pull hard!)” he whispered to his crew. Then he spoke aloud again: “A sad business, Mr. Stubb! (Churn up the water, lads!) But never mind, Mr. Stubb, it’s all for the best. Have all your crew pull hard, whatever happens. (Put your backs into it, men!) There are hogsheads of sperm oil ahead, Mr. Stubb, and that’s what you came for. (Pull, boys!) Sperm oil, sperm oil is the prize! At least this is duty, duty and profit hand in hand.”

“Aye, aye, I thought as much,” soliloquized Stubb, when the boats diverged, “as soon as I clapt eye on ’em, I thought so. Aye, and that’s what he went into the after hold for, so often, as Dough-Boy long suspected. They were hidden down there. The White Whale’s at the bottom of it. Well, well, so be it! Can’t be helped! All right! Give way, men! It ain’t the White Whale to-day! Give way!”

“Yes, yes, I thought so,” Stubb said to himself as the boats went their separate ways. “I thought so as soon as I saw them. Yes, and that’s why he went into the rear hold so often, just as Dough-Boy had long suspected. They were hidden down there. The White Whale is behind it all. Well, well, so be it! Nothing can be done about it! All right! Row, men! It isn’t the White Whale today! Row!”

Now the advent of these outlandish strangers at such a critical instant as the lowering of the boats from the deck, this had not unreasonably awakened a sort of superstitious amazement in some of the ship’s company; but Archy’s fancied discovery having some time previous got abroad among them, though indeed not credited then, this had in some small measure prepared them for the event. It took off the extreme edge of their wonder; and so what with all this and Stubb’s confident way of accounting for their appearance, they were for the time freed from superstitious surmisings; though the affair still left abundant room for all manner of wild conjectures as to dark Ahab’s precise agency in the matter from the beginning. For me, I silently recalled the mysterious shadows I had seen creeping on board the Pequod during the dim Nantucket dawn, as well as the enigmatical hintings of the unaccountable Elijah.

The arrival of these strange foreigners at such a critical moment understandably caused superstitious wonder among some of the crew. The boats were just being lowered from the deck. But Archy’s supposed discovery had already spread among them some time earlier. Though they had not believed it then, it had prepared them a little for the strangers’ appearance. It took the sharpest edge off their astonishment. Between this and Stubb’s confident explanation of the strangers’ appearance, they were free from superstitious suspicions for the time being. Still, the affair left plenty of room for all kinds of wild guesses about exactly what dark Ahab had done from the beginning. For my part, I silently recalled the mysterious shadows I had seen creeping aboard the Pequod in the dim Nantucket dawn. I also remembered the puzzling hints dropped by the inexplicable Elijah.

Meantime, Ahab, out of hearing of his officers, having sided the furthest to windward, was still ranging ahead of the other boats; a circumstance bespeaking how potent a crew was pulling him. Those tiger yellow creatures of his seemed all steel and whalebone; like five trip-hammers they rose and fell with regular strokes of strength, which periodically started the boat along the water like a horizontal burst boiler out of a Mississippi steamer. As for Fedallah, who was seen pulling the harpooneer oar, he had thrown aside his black jacket, and displayed his naked chest with the whole part of his body above the gunwale, clearly cut against the alternating depressions of the watery horizon; while at the other end of the boat Ahab, with one arm, like a fencer’s, thrown half backward into the air, as if to counterbalance any tendency to trip; Ahab was seen steadily managing his steering oar as in a thousand boat lowerings ere the White Whale had torn him. All at once the outstretched arm gave a peculiar motion and then remained fixed, while the boat’s five oars were seen simultaneously peaked. Boat and crew sat motionless on the sea. Instantly the three spread boats in the rear paused on their way. The whales had irregularly settled bodily down into the blue, thus giving no distantly discernible token of the movement, though from his closer vicinity Ahab had observed it.

Meanwhile, Ahab was out of earshot of his officers. He had moved furthest toward the wind and was still ahead of the other boats. This showed how powerful a crew was rowing him. His tiger yellow men seemed made entirely of steel and whalebone. Like five power hammers, they rose and fell with steady, powerful strokes. At regular intervals, their strokes sent the boat racing across the water like a boiler bursting sideways out of a Mississippi steamer. Fedallah was rowing at the harpooneer’s oar. He had thrown aside his black jacket, exposing his bare chest. His whole body above the gunwale stood out sharply against the rising and falling water on the horizon. At the other end of the boat, Ahab held one arm half behind him, like a fencer. He seemed to be counterbalancing himself against any tendency to stumble. With his other arm, he steadily handled the steering oar, as he had in a thousand boat launchings before the White Whale had torn him. Suddenly, Ahab’s outstretched arm made a peculiar movement and then held still. At the same moment, the boat’s five oars were raised upright. Boat and crew sat motionless on the sea. At once, the three boats spread out behind them stopped too. The whales had sunk bodily into the blue at uneven intervals. Their movement gave no sign that could be seen from a distance, though Ahab had seen it from closer by.

“Every man look out along his oars!” cried Starbuck. “Thou, Queequeg, stand up!”

“Everyone, look out along your oars!” cried Starbuck. “Queequeg, stand up!”

Nimbly springing up on the triangular raised box in the bow, the savage stood erect there, and with intensely eager eyes gazed off towards the spot where the chase had last been descried. Likewise upon the extreme stern of the boat where it was also triangularly platformed level with the gunwale, Starbuck himself was seen coolly and adroitly balancing himself to the jerking tossings of his chip of a craft, and silently eyeing the vast blue eye of the sea.

The savage sprang nimbly onto the raised triangular platform at the bow and stood upright. His eyes eagerly searched the spot where the whale had last been seen. At the very stern, Starbuck stood on another triangular platform, level with the gunwale. He calmly and skillfully balanced himself as the tiny boat pitched and jerked, silently watching the vast blue eye of the sea.

Not very far distant Flask’s boat was also lying breathlessly still; its commander recklessly standing upon the top of the loggerhead, a stout sort of post rooted in the keel, and rising some two feet above the level of the stern platform. It is used for catching turns with the whale line. Its top is not more spacious than the palm of a man’s hand, and standing upon such a base as that, Flask seemed perched at the mast-head of some ship which had sunk to all but her trucks. But little King-Post was small and short, and at the same time little King-Post was full of a large and tall ambition, so that this loggerhead stand-point of his did by no means satisfy King-Post.

Not far away, Flask’s boat also lay breathlessly still. Its commander stood recklessly on top of the loggerhead, a sturdy post anchored in the keel. It rose about two feet above the stern platform and was used to secure turns of the whale line. The top was no larger than a man’s palm. Standing on such a small base, Flask seemed perched at the masthead of a ship sunk nearly to its mast tops. But little King-Post was small and short, while his ambition was large and tall. So his lookout atop the loggerhead did not satisfy him at all.

“I can’t see three seas off; tip us up an oar there, and let me on to that.”

“I can’t see three waves ahead. Raise an oar and let me get on it.”

Upon this, Daggoo, with either hand upon the gunwale to steady his way, swiftly slid aft, and then erecting himself volunteered his lofty shoulders for a pedestal.

At this, Daggoo quickly moved toward the stern, steadying himself with both hands on the gunwale. Then he stood upright and offered his towering shoulders as a pedestal.

“Good a mast-head as any, sir. Will you mount?”

“As good a masthead as any, sir. Will you climb up?”

“That I will, and thank ye very much, my fine fellow; only I wish you fifty feet taller.”

“That I will, and thank you very much, my good fellow. I only wish you were fifty feet taller.”

Whereupon planting his feet firmly against two opposite planks of the boat, the gigantic negro, stooping a little, presented his flat palm to Flask’s foot, and then putting Flask’s hand on his hearse-plumed head and bidding him spring as he himself should toss, with one dexterous fling landed the little man high and dry on his shoulders. And here was Flask now standing, Daggoo with one lifted arm furnishing him with a breastband to lean against and steady himself by.

Then the gigantic Black man braced his feet against two opposite planks of the boat. Stooping slightly, he held out his flat palm for Flask’s foot. He put Flask’s hand on his head, with its hair like a hearse’s plumes, and told him to spring as he tossed him. With one skillful fling, he landed the little man safely on his shoulders. Flask now stood there, leaning against Daggoo’s raised arm like a breastband to steady himself.

At any time it is a strange sight to the tyro to see with what wondrous habitude of unconscious skill the whaleman will maintain an erect posture in his boat, even when pitched about by the most riotously perverse and cross-running seas. Still more strange to see him giddily perched upon the loggerhead itself, under such circumstances. But the sight of little Flask mounted upon gigantic Daggoo was yet more curious; for sustaining himself with a cool, indifferent, easy, unthought of, barbaric majesty, the noble negro to every roll of the sea harmoniously rolled his fine form. On his broad back, flaxen-haired Flask seemed a snow-flake. The bearer looked nobler than the rider. Though truly vivacious, tumultuous, ostentatious little Flask would now and then stamp with impatience; but not one added heave did he thereby give to the negro’s lordly chest. So have I seen Passion and Vanity stamping the living magnanimous earth, but the earth did not alter her tides and her seasons for that.

A beginner always finds it strange to see how a whaleman stands upright in his boat with effortless, unconscious skill. He does so even when the boat is tossed by the wildest, most chaotic cross-running seas. Stranger still is the sight of him perched dizzyingly on the loggerhead itself in such seas. But little Flask riding on the giant Daggoo was an even stranger sight. The noble Black man carried himself with cool, effortless, unthinking, barbaric majesty. His fine body swayed smoothly with every roll of the sea. On his broad back, fair-haired Flask looked like a snowflake. The bearer looked nobler than the rider. Though the lively, turbulent, showy little Flask would sometimes stamp impatiently, he did not make the Black man's lordly chest heave any more. So I have seen Passion and Vanity stamp upon the living, generous earth. But the earth did not change her tides or seasons for them.

Meanwhile Stubb, the third mate, betrayed no such far-gazing solicitudes. The whales might have made one of their regular soundings, not a temporary dive from mere fright; and if that were the case, Stubb, as his wont in such cases, it seems, was resolved to solace the languishing interval with his pipe. He withdrew it from his hatband, where he always wore it aslant like a feather. He loaded it, and rammed home the loading with his thumb-end; but hardly had he ignited his match across the rough sandpaper of his hand, when Tashtego, his harpooneer, whose eyes had been setting to windward like two fixed stars, suddenly dropped like light from his erect attitude to his seat, crying out in a quick phrensy of hurry, “Down, down all, and give way!—there they are!”

Meanwhile, Stubb, the third mate, showed no such anxiety as he gazed into the distance. The whales might have made one of their regular deep dives, rather than a brief dive out of fright. If so, Stubb apparently intended to pass the dull wait with his pipe, as he usually did. He took the pipe from his hatband, where he always wore it at an angle like a feather. He filled it and packed the tobacco down with his thumb. But he had hardly struck his match against the rough skin of his hand when Tashtego suddenly dropped into his seat. Tashtego, his harpooneer, had been standing with his eyes fixed on the horizon to windward like two fixed stars. Now he dropped as swiftly as light, crying out in a frantic rush, “Down, down, all of you, and row! There they are!”

To a landsman, no whale, nor any sign of a herring, would have been visible at that moment; nothing but a troubled bit of greenish white water, and thin scattered puffs of vapor hovering over it, and suffusingly blowing off to leeward, like the confused scud from white rolling billows. The air around suddenly vibrated and tingled, as it were, like the air over intensely heated plates of iron. Beneath this atmospheric waving and curling, and partially beneath a thin layer of water, also, the whales were swimming. Seen in advance of all the other indications, the puffs of vapor they spouted, seemed their forerunning couriers and detached flying outriders.

To a person on land, no whale or even a sign of a herring would have been visible at that moment. There was only a patch of churning, greenish-white water, with thin, scattered puffs of vapor hovering above it. The vapor drifted and spread downwind, like the scattered spray from white, rolling waves. The surrounding air suddenly seemed to vibrate and tingle, like the air above intensely hot iron plates. Beneath this wavering, curling air, and partly beneath a thin layer of water, the whales were swimming. Their spouts of vapor appeared before any other signs of them, like messengers and flying riders sent ahead.

All four boats were now in keen pursuit of that one spot of troubled water and air. But it bade fair to outstrip them; it flew on and on, as a mass of interblending bubbles borne down a rapid stream from the hills.

All four boats were now chasing that one spot of churning water and air. But it seemed likely to outrun them. It sped on and on, like a mass of mingling bubbles swept along by a swift stream from the hills.

“Pull, pull, my good boys,” said Starbuck, in the lowest possible but intensest concentrated whisper to his men; while the sharp fixed glance from his eyes darted straight ahead of the bow, almost seemed as two visible needles in two unerring binnacle compasses. He did not say much to his crew, though, nor did his crew say anything to him. Only the silence of the boat was at intervals startlingly pierced by one of his peculiar whispers, now harsh with command, now soft with entreaty.

“Pull, pull, my good boys,” Starbuck whispered to his men, as quietly and intensely as he could. His sharp, fixed gaze shot straight ahead over the bow. His eyes almost seemed like two visible needles in two unerring binnacle compasses. But he did not say much to his crew, and they said nothing to him. From time to time, one of his peculiar whispers startled them by piercing the silence of the boat. Sometimes it was harsh with command, sometimes soft with pleading.

How different the loud little King-Post. “Sing out and say something, my hearties. Roar and pull, my thunderbolts! Beach me, beach me on their black backs, boys; only do that for me, and I’ll sign over to you my Martha’s Vineyard plantation, boys; including wife and children, boys. Lay me on—lay me on! O Lord, Lord! but I shall go stark, staring mad! See! see that white water!” And so shouting, he pulled his hat from his head, and stamped up and down on it; then picking it up, flirted it far off upon the sea; and finally fell to rearing and plunging in the boat’s stern like a crazed colt from the prairie.

How different the loud little King-Post was. “Shout out and say something, my hearties. Roar and pull, my thunderbolts! Beach me on their black backs, boys. Just do that for me, and I’ll sign over my Martha’s Vineyard plantation to you, boys, wife and children included. Put me on them, put me on them! Oh Lord, Lord! I’m going to go completely mad! Look! Look at that white water!” As he shouted, he pulled off his hat and stamped up and down on it. Then he picked it up and flung it far out to sea. Finally, he began rearing and plunging in the stern of the boat like a crazed prairie colt.

“Look at that chap now,” philosophically drawled Stubb, who, with his unlighted short pipe, mechanically retained between his teeth, at a short distance, followed after—“He’s got fits, that Flask has. Fits? yes, give him fits—that’s the very word—pitch fits into ’em. Merrily, merrily, hearts-alive. Pudding for supper, you know;—merry’s the word. Pull, babes—pull, sucklings—pull, all. But what the devil are you hurrying about? Softly, softly, and steadily, my men. Only pull, and keep pulling; nothing more. Crack all your backbones, and bite your knives in two—that’s all. Take it easy—why don’t ye take it easy, I say, and burst all your livers and lungs!”

“Look at that fellow now,” Stubb drawled philosophically. He followed a short distance behind, holding his unlit short pipe between his teeth without thinking. “Flask has fits. Fits? Yes, give them fits. That’s exactly the word. Throw fits into them. Merrily, merrily, cheer up, everyone. Pudding for supper, you know. Merry’s the word. Pull, babies. Pull, little ones. Pull, everyone. But what the devil are you hurrying for? Easy, easy, and steady, men. Just pull and keep pulling, nothing more. Break all your backbones and bite your knives in two, that’s all. Take it easy. Why don’t you take it easy, I say, and burst all your livers and lungs!”

But what it was that inscrutable Ahab said to that tiger-yellow crew of his—these were words best omitted here; for you live under the blessed light of the evangelical land. Only the infidel sharks in the audacious seas may give ear to such words, when, with tornado brow, and eyes of red murder, and foam-glued lips, Ahab leaped after his prey.

But what the mysterious Ahab said to his tiger-yellow crew is best left out here. For you live in a blessed Christian land. Only the heathen sharks in the daring seas may hear such words. Ahab spoke them as he leaped after his prey, his brow stormy, his eyes red with murderous rage, and his lips glued with foam.

Meanwhile, all the boats tore on. The repeated specific allusions of Flask to “that whale,” as he called the fictitious monster which he declared to be incessantly tantalizing his boat’s bow with its tail—these allusions of his were at times so vivid and life-like, that they would cause some one or two of his men to snatch a fearful look over the shoulder. But this was against all rule; for the oarsmen must put out their eyes, and ram a skewer through their necks; usage pronouncing that they must have no organs but ears, and no limbs but arms, in these critical moments.

Meanwhile, all the boats raced on. Flask kept talking about “that whale,” an imaginary monster he claimed was constantly teasing his boat’s bow with its tail. At times, his descriptions were so vivid and lifelike that one or two of his men would glance fearfully over their shoulders. But looking back was against all the rules. The rowers had to put out their eyes and drive a skewer through their necks. In such critical moments, custom decreed that they must have no organs but ears and no limbs but arms.

It was a sight full of quick wonder and awe! The vast swells of the omnipotent sea; the surging, hollow roar they made, as they rolled along the eight gunwales, like gigantic bowls in a boundless bowling-green; the brief suspended agony of the boat, as it would tip for an instant on the knife-like edge of the sharper waves, that almost seemed threatening to cut it in two; the sudden profound dip into the watery glens and hollows; the keen spurrings and goadings to gain the top of the opposite hill; the headlong, sled-like slide down its other side;—all these, with the cries of the headsmen and harpooneers, and the shuddering gasps of the oarsmen, with the wondrous sight of the ivory Pequod bearing down upon her boats with outstretched sails, like a wild hen after her screaming brood;—all this was thrilling.

It was a sight that filled us with sudden wonder and awe! The all-powerful sea rose in vast swells. They rolled alongside the eight gunwales with a hollow, surging roar, like giant bowls on an endless bowling green. For an agonizing moment, the boat would balance on the knife-like edge of a sharper wave. The wave almost seemed ready to cut the boat in two. Then the boat would suddenly plunge deep into watery valleys and hollows. The oarsmen strained to reach the top of the opposite hill. The boat then slid headlong down the other side like a sled. There were also the cries of the headsmen and harpooneers and the shuddering gasps of the oarsmen. And there was the wondrous sight of the ivory Pequod bearing down on her boats with sails outstretched. She was like a wild hen chasing her screaming brood. All of it was thrilling.

Not the raw recruit, marching from the bosom of his wife into the fever heat of his first battle; not the dead man’s ghost encountering the first unknown phantom in the other world;—neither of these can feel stranger and stronger emotions than that man does, who for the first time finds himself pulling into the charmed, churned circle of the hunted sperm whale.

Imagine a new recruit leaving his wife’s embrace and marching into the feverish heat of his first battle. Or imagine a dead man’s ghost meeting his first unknown phantom in the next world. Neither can feel stranger or stronger emotions than a man rowing for the first time into the enchanted, churning circle around a hunted sperm whale.

The dancing white water made by the chase was now becoming more and more visible, owing to the increasing darkness of the dun cloud-shadows flung upon the sea. The jets of vapor no longer blended, but tilted everywhere to right and left; the whales seemed separating their wakes. The boats were pulled more apart; Starbuck giving chase to three whales running dead to leeward. Our sail was now set, and, with the still rising wind, we rushed along; the boat going with such madness through the water, that the lee oars could scarcely be worked rapidly enough to escape being torn from the row-locks.

The dancing white water stirred up by the chase was growing easier to see. Darker shadows from the brownish clouds were spreading across the sea. The whales’ spouts no longer blended together but angled away to the right and left. The whales seemed to be moving apart, leaving separate wakes. The boats spread farther apart too. Starbuck chased three whales heading straight downwind. Our sail was now raised, and we raced along as the wind kept rising. The boat rushed through the water so wildly that the oars on the downwind side could scarcely be worked fast enough to keep them from being torn from their rowlocks.

Soon we were running through a suffusing wide veil of mist; neither ship nor boat to be seen.

Soon we were moving through a broad, spreading veil of mist. Neither ship nor boat was in sight.

“Give way, men,” whispered Starbuck, drawing still further aft the sheet of his sail; “there is time to kill a fish yet before the squall comes. There’s white water again!—close to! Spring!”

“Row, men,” whispered Starbuck, pulling the sail’s rope farther toward the stern. “There’s still time to kill a fish before the squall comes. There’s white water again! Close by! Hurry!”

Soon after, two cries in quick succession on each side of us denoted that the other boats had got fast; but hardly were they overheard, when with a lightning-like hurtling whisper Starbuck said: “Stand up!” and Queequeg, harpoon in hand, sprang to his feet.

Soon after, two cries rang out in quick succession, one on each side of us. They meant the other boats had hooked the whale. But we had barely heard the cries when Starbuck whispered with lightning speed: “Stand up!” Queequeg sprang to his feet, harpoon in hand.

Though not one of the oarsmen was then facing the life and death peril so close to them ahead, yet with their eyes on the intense countenance of the mate in the stern of the boat, they knew that the imminent instant had come; they heard, too, an enormous wallowing sound as of fifty elephants stirring in their litter. Meanwhile the boat was still booming through the mist, the waves curling and hissing around us like the erected crests of enraged serpents.

Though none of the oarsmen faced the deadly danger just ahead, they watched the mate’s intense face in the stern. They knew the moment was upon them. They also heard an enormous wallowing sound, like fifty elephants stirring in their bedding. Meanwhile, the boat kept booming through the mist. Waves curled and hissed around us like the raised crests of enraged serpents.

“That’s his hump. There, there, give it to him!” whispered Starbuck.

“That’s his hump. There, there, give it to him!” whispered Starbuck.

A short rushing sound leaped out of the boat; it was the darted iron of Queequeg. Then all in one welded commotion came an invisible push from astern, while forward the boat seemed striking on a ledge; the sail collapsed and exploded; a gush of scalding vapor shot up near by; something rolled and tumbled like an earthquake beneath us. The whole crew were half suffocated as they were tossed helter-skelter into the white curdling cream of the squall. Squall, whale, and harpoon had all blended together; and the whale, merely grazed by the iron, escaped.

A brief rushing sound came from the boat. It was Queequeg’s harpoon flying through the air. Then, in one violent rush, an unseen force pushed the boat from behind. At the same time, the front seemed to strike a ledge. The sail collapsed and burst open. A gush of scalding vapor shot up nearby. Something rolled and churned beneath us like an earthquake. The whole crew nearly suffocated as they were tossed wildly into the squall’s white, churning foam. Squall, whale, and harpoon had all blended together. The harpoon had only grazed the whale, and it escaped.

Though completely swamped, the boat was nearly unharmed. Swimming round it we picked up the floating oars, and lashing them across the gunwale, tumbled back to our places. There we sat up to our knees in the sea, the water covering every rib and plank, so that to our downward gazing eyes the suspended craft seemed a coral boat grown up to us from the bottom of the ocean.

Although the boat was completely flooded, it was nearly unharmed. We swam around the boat, gathered the floating oars, and lashed them across the sides. Then we scrambled back to our places. We sat there with the seawater up to our knees, covering every rib and plank. As we looked down, the boat seemed to be suspended in the water, like a coral boat that had grown up to us from the ocean floor.

The wind increased to a howl; the waves dashed their bucklers together; the whole squall roared, forked, and crackled around us like a white fire upon the prairie, in which, unconsumed, we were burning; immortal in these jaws of death! In vain we hailed the other boats; as well roar to the live coals down the chimney of a flaming furnace as hail those boats in that storm. Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and mist, grew darker with the shadows of night; no sign of the ship could be seen. The rising sea forbade all attempts to bale out the boat. The oars were useless as propellers, performing now the office of life-preservers. So, cutting the lashing of the waterproof match keg, after many failures Starbuck contrived to ignite the lamp in the lantern; then stretching it on a waif pole, handed it to Queequeg as the standard-bearer of this forlorn hope. There, then, he sat, holding up that imbecile candle in the heart of that almighty forlornness. There, then, he sat, the sign and symbol of a man without faith, hopelessly holding up hope in the midst of despair.

The wind rose to a howl, and the waves crashed their shields together. The whole squall roared, flashed, and crackled around us like a white fire on the prairie. We burned in that fire without being consumed, immortal in the jaws of death! We called to the other boats, but it was useless. We might as well have shouted at the live coals down the chimney of a blazing furnace. Meanwhile, the driving clouds and mist grew darker in the shadows of night. There was no sign of the ship. The rising sea made it impossible to bail out the boat. The oars were useless for rowing and now served as life preservers. So Starbuck cut the lashings on the waterproof keg of matches. After many failures, he managed to light the lamp in the lantern. He then mounted the lantern on a signal pole and handed it to Queequeg. Queequeg would carry the standard for this desperate cause. There he sat, holding up that feeble light amid all that overwhelming desolation. There he sat, the image of a man without faith, hopelessly holding up hope in the midst of despair.

Wet, drenched through, and shivering cold, despairing of ship or boat, we lifted up our eyes as the dawn came on. The mist still spread over the sea, the empty lantern lay crushed in the bottom of the boat. Suddenly Queequeg started to his feet, hollowing his hand to his ear. We all heard a faint creaking, as of ropes and yards hitherto muffled by the storm. The sound came nearer and nearer; the thick mists were dimly parted by a huge, vague form. Affrighted, we all sprang into the sea as the ship at last loomed into view, bearing right down upon us within a distance of not much more than its length.

Soaked through and shivering with cold, we had given up hope of finding the ship or a boat. We looked up as dawn approached. Mist still covered the sea, and the empty lantern lay crushed in the bottom of the boat. Suddenly Queequeg jumped to his feet and cupped his hand to his ear. We all heard a faint creaking, like ropes and yards that the storm had muffled until then. The sound came closer and closer. A huge, vague shape dimly parted the thick mist. The ship finally came into view, heading straight for us from little more than a ship's length away. Terrified, we all jumped into the sea.

Floating on the waves we saw the abandoned boat, as for one instant it tossed and gaped beneath the ship’s bows like a chip at the base of a cataract; and then the vast hull rolled over it, and it was seen no more till it came up weltering astern. Again we swam for it, were dashed against it by the seas, and were at last taken up and safely landed on board. Ere the squall came close to, the other boats had cut loose from their fish and returned to the ship in good time. The ship had given us up, but was still cruising, if haply it might light upon some token of our perishing,—an oar or a lance pole.

We saw the abandoned boat floating on the waves. For an instant, it tossed and gaped beneath the ship’s bow, like a chip at the foot of a waterfall. Then the vast hull rolled over the boat. We did not see it again until it surfaced, tossing in the water behind the ship. We swam for the boat again, and the waves dashed us against it. At last, we were picked up and brought safely aboard. Before the squall drew near, the other boats had cut loose from their whales and returned to the ship in good time. The ship had given us up, but it was still cruising, hoping perhaps to find some sign that we had perished, an oar or a lance pole.