The Town-Ho’s Story

(As told at the Golden Inn.)

(As told at the Golden Inn.)

The Cape of Good Hope, and all the watery region round about there, is much like some noted four corners of a great highway, where you meet more travellers than in any other part.

The Cape of Good Hope and all the surrounding waters are like a famous crossroads on a great highway. There, you meet more travelers than anywhere else.

It was not very long after speaking the Goney that another homeward-bound whaleman, the Town-Ho,* was encountered. She was manned almost wholly by Polynesians. In the short gam that ensued she gave us strong news of Moby Dick. To some the general interest in the White Whale was now wildly heightened by a circumstance of the Town-Ho’s story, which seemed obscurely to involve with the whale a certain wondrous, inverted visitation of one of those so called judgments of God which at times are said to overtake some men. This latter circumstance, with its own particular accompaniments, forming what may be called the secret part of the tragedy about to be narrated, never reached the ears of Captain Ahab or his mates. For that secret part of the story was unknown to the captain of the Town-Ho himself. It was the private property of three confederate white seamen of that ship, one of whom, it seems, communicated it to Tashtego with Romish injunctions of secrecy, but the following night Tashtego rambled in his sleep, and revealed so much of it in that way, that when he was wakened he could not well withhold the rest. Nevertheless, so potent an influence did this thing have on those seamen in the Pequod who came to the full knowledge of it, and by such a strange delicacy, to call it so, were they governed in this matter, that they kept the secret among themselves so that it never transpired abaft the Pequod’s main-mast. Interweaving in its proper place this darker thread with the story as publicly narrated on the ship, the whole of this strange affair I now proceed to put on lasting record.

Not long after we spoke with the Goney, we encountered another homeward-bound whaling ship, the Town-Ho.* Her crew was almost entirely Polynesian. During our brief gam, or meeting at sea, her crew gave us striking news of Moby Dick. One part of the Town-Ho’s story greatly heightened some people’s interest in the White Whale. It seemed to connect the whale, in a mysterious way, with a strange reversal of what people sometimes call a judgment of God. Such judgments are said at times to overtake certain men. That part of the story, with its particular details, formed what might be called the secret part of the tragedy I am about to tell. It never reached the ears of Captain Ahab or his mates. Even the Town-Ho’s captain knew nothing of it. Only three white sailors aboard his ship shared the secret. One of them, it seems, told it to Tashtego under strict, Catholic-style orders of secrecy. But the next night, Tashtego talked in his sleep and revealed so much that he could hardly withhold the rest when awakened. Nevertheless, the secret had a powerful effect on those Pequod sailors who learned the whole of it. And they were guided, if that is the word, by such a strange delicacy in the matter that they kept it among themselves. It never became known abaft the Pequod’s main-mast. I will now put the whole strange affair on lasting record, weaving this darker thread into its proper place in the story as it was publicly told aboard ship.

*The ancient whale-cry upon first sighting a whale from the mast-head, still used by whalemen in hunting the famous Gallipagos terrapin.

*The old whale cry was shouted when a whale was first spotted from the masthead. Whalemen still use the cry when hunting the famous Gallipagos terrapin.

For my humor’s sake, I shall preserve the style in which I once narrated it at Lima, to a lounging circle of my Spanish friends, one saint’s eve, smoking upon the thick-gilt tiled piazza of the Golden Inn. Of those fine cavaliers, the young Dons, Pedro and Sebastian, were on the closer terms with me; and hence the interluding questions they occasionally put, and which are duly answered at the time.

For my own amusement, I will tell it in the style I once used in Lima. It was the eve of a saint’s day, and I was smoking with a relaxed circle of Spanish friends. We were on the richly gilded, tiled piazza of the Golden Inn. Among those fine gentlemen, I was closest to the young Dons, Pedro and Sebastian. That is why they occasionally interrupt with questions, which I answer as they arise.

“Some two years prior to my first learning the events which I am about rehearsing to you, gentlemen, the Town-Ho, Sperm Whaler of Nantucket, was cruising in your Pacific here, not very many days’ sail eastward from the eaves of this good Golden Inn. She was somewhere to the northward of the Line. One morning upon handling the pumps, according to daily usage, it was observed that she made more water in her hold than common. They supposed a sword-fish had stabbed her, gentlemen. But the captain, having some unusual reason for believing that rare good luck awaited him in those latitudes; and therefore being very averse to quit them, and the leak not being then considered at all dangerous, though, indeed, they could not find it after searching the hold as low down as was possible in rather heavy weather, the ship still continued her cruisings, the mariners working at the pumps at wide and easy intervals; but no good luck came; more days went by, and not only was the leak yet undiscovered, but it sensibly increased. So much so, that now taking some alarm, the captain, making all sail, stood away for the nearest harbor among the islands, there to have his hull hove out and repaired.

“About two years before I first learned of the events I am about to tell you, gentlemen, the Town-Ho was cruising in your Pacific here. She was a sperm whaler from Nantucket, sailing not many days east of this fine Golden Inn. She was somewhere north of the Equator. One morning, when the crew worked the pumps as usual, they noticed more water than normal in the hold. They supposed a swordfish had stabbed the ship, gentlemen. But the captain had an unusual reason to believe that great good luck awaited him in those latitudes. He was therefore very reluctant to leave them. The leak was not yet considered dangerous, although the crew could not find it. They had searched as far down in the hold as they could in the rather heavy weather. So the ship continued cruising, with the sailors working the pumps at long, easy intervals. But no good luck came. More days passed, and the leak remained undiscovered and grew noticeably worse. At last the captain grew alarmed. He set all sail for the nearest harbor among the islands, so the ship’s hull could be hauled out and repaired.

“Though no small passage was before her, yet, if the commonest chance favoured, he did not at all fear that his ship would founder by the way, because his pumps were of the best, and being periodically relieved at them, those six-and-thirty men of his could easily keep the ship free; never mind if the leak should double on her. In truth, well nigh the whole of this passage being attended by very prosperous breezes, the Town-Ho had all but certainly arrived in perfect safety at her port without the occurrence of the least fatality, had it not been for the brutal overbearing of Radney, the mate, a Vineyarder, and the bitterly provoked vengeance of Steelkilt, a Lakeman and desperado from Buffalo.

“Though the ship had a long voyage ahead, he did not fear she would sink along the way, given ordinary luck. Her pumps were excellent, and his thirty-six men could easily keep her free of water by taking turns at them. They could manage even if the leak doubled. In fact, favorable winds attended nearly the whole voyage. The Town-Ho would almost certainly have reached port in perfect safety, without a single death, if not for Radney’s brutal bullying and Steelkilt’s bitterly provoked revenge. Radney was the mate, a Vineyarder, and Steelkilt was a Lakeman and desperado from Buffalo.

“‘Lakeman!—Buffalo! Pray, what is a Lakeman, and where is Buffalo?’ said Don Sebastian, rising in his swinging mat of grass.

“‘Lakeman! Buffalo! What is a Lakeman, and where is Buffalo?’ said Don Sebastian, sitting up in his swinging grass mat.

“On the eastern shore of our Lake Erie, Don; but—I crave your courtesy—may be, you shall soon hear further of all that. Now, gentlemen, in square-sail brigs and three-masted ships, well-nigh as large and stout as any that ever sailed out of your old Callao to far Manilla; this Lakeman, in the land-locked heart of our America, had yet been nurtured by all those agrarian freebooting impressions popularly connected with the open ocean. For in their interflowing aggregate, those grand fresh-water seas of ours,—Erie, and Ontario, and Huron, and Superior, and Michigan,—possess an ocean-like expansiveness, with many of the ocean’s noblest traits; with many of its rimmed varieties of races and of climes. They contain round archipelagoes of romantic isles, even as the Polynesian waters do; in large part, are shored by two great contrasting nations, as the Atlantic is; they furnish long maritime approaches to our numerous territorial colonies from the East, dotted all round their banks; here and there are frowned upon by batteries, and by the goat-like craggy guns of lofty Mackinaw; they have heard the fleet thunderings of naval victories; at intervals, they yield their beaches to wild barbarians, whose red painted faces flash from out their peltry wigwams; for leagues and leagues are flanked by ancient and unentered forests, where the gaunt pines stand like serried lines of kings in Gothic genealogies; those same woods harboring wild Afric beasts of prey, and silken creatures whose exported furs give robes to Tartar Emperors; they mirror the paved capitals of Buffalo and Cleveland, as well as Winnebago villages; they float alike the full-rigged merchant ship, the armed cruiser of the State, the steamer, and the beech canoe; they are swept by Borean and dismasting blasts as direful as any that lash the salted wave; they know what shipwrecks are, for out of sight of land, however inland, they have drowned full many a midnight ship with all its shrieking crew. Thus, gentlemen, though an inlander, Steelkilt was wild-ocean born, and wild-ocean nurtured; as much of an audacious mariner as any. And for Radney, though in his infancy he may have laid him down on the lone Nantucket beach, to nurse at his maternal sea; though in after life he had long followed our austere Atlantic and your contemplative Pacific; yet was he quite as vengeful and full of social quarrel as the backwoods seaman, fresh from the latitudes of buck-horn handled Bowie-knives. Yet was this Nantucketer a man with some good-hearted traits; and this Lakeman, a mariner, who though a sort of devil indeed, might yet by inflexible firmness, only tempered by that common decency of human recognition which is the meanest slave’s right; thus treated, this Steelkilt had long been retained harmless and docile. At all events, he had proved so thus far; but Radney was doomed and made mad, and Steelkilt—but, gentlemen, you shall hear.

“On the eastern shore of our Lake Erie, Don. But please forgive me, you may soon hear more about all that. Now, gentlemen, this Lakeman grew up in the landlocked heart of America. Yet, aboard square-sail brigs and three-masted ships, he absorbed all the land-born notions of piracy people associate with the open ocean. Those ships were nearly as large and sturdy as any that ever sailed from your old Callao to distant Manilla. For our great freshwater seas are connected, and together they have an ocean’s vastness. Erie, Ontario, Huron, Superior, and Michigan share many of the ocean’s finest qualities. Around their shores, too, are many kinds of peoples and climates. They contain clusters of romantic islands, just as the Polynesian waters do. Much of their shoreline belongs to two great and contrasting nations, as does the Atlantic’s. They provide long routes by water to our many settlements, established from the East and scattered along their shores. Here and there, batteries overlook them, as do the guns perched like goats on the high cliffs of Mackinaw. The lakes have heard the thunder of fleets winning naval victories. At times, they give up their beaches to wild barbarians, whose red-painted faces flash from their fur-covered wigwams. For leagues on end, ancient forests that no one has entered line their shores. There, gaunt pines stand like ranks of kings in Gothic family trees. Those same woods shelter wild beasts of prey like Africa’s, and animals with silky fur. Their exported furs provide robes for Tartar Emperors. The lakes reflect the paved cities of Buffalo and Cleveland, as well as Winnebago villages. They carry fully rigged merchant ships, armed government cruisers, steamers, and birchbark canoes alike. Northern winds sweep across them, tearing masts from ships. Those blasts are as terrible as any that batter the salt sea. The lakes know shipwrecks, too. Inland as they are, they have drowned many a ship at midnight, out of sight of land, along with its entire shrieking crew. So, gentlemen, though Steelkilt came from inland, he was born and raised on a wild ocean. He was as daring a sailor as any. Radney, on the other hand, may have lain as a baby on the lonely Nantucket beach, nursing at his mother sea. Later, he had sailed for years on our stern Atlantic and your thoughtful Pacific. Yet he was just as vengeful and quarrelsome with others as the backwoods sailor. Steelkilt had come straight from the regions of Bowie knives with buckhorn handles. Still, this Nantucketer had some good-hearted qualities. And though this Lakeman was indeed a kind of devil, he might have been kept harmless and obedient for a long time. That would have required unbending firmness, tempered only by the ordinary human decency owed even to the lowliest slave. In any case, Steelkilt had proved harmless and obedient so far. But Radney was doomed and driven mad, and Steelkilt, well, gentlemen, you shall hear.”

“It was not more than a day or two at the furthest after pointing her prow for her island haven, that the Town-Ho’s leak seemed again increasing, but only so as to require an hour or more at the pumps every day. You must know that in a settled and civilized ocean like our Atlantic, for example, some skippers think little of pumping their whole way across it; though of a still, sleepy night, should the officer of the deck happen to forget his duty in that respect, the probability would be that he and his shipmates would never again remember it, on account of all hands gently subsiding to the bottom. Nor in the solitary and savage seas far from you to the westward, gentlemen, is it altogether unusual for ships to keep clanging at their pump-handles in full chorus even for a voyage of considerable length; that is, if it lie along a tolerably accessible coast, or if any other reasonable retreat is afforded them. It is only when a leaky vessel is in some very out of the way part of those waters, some really landless latitude, that her captain begins to feel a little anxious.

“No more than a day or two after the Town-Ho turned toward her island harbor, her leak seemed to be getting worse again. But it only required an hour or more of pumping each day. You should know that in a settled and civilized ocean like our Atlantic, for example, some captains think little of pumping throughout the crossing. Yet on a quiet, sleepy night, the officer on deck might forget that duty. If he did, he and his shipmates would probably never remember it again, because all hands would gently sink to the bottom. Nor is it altogether unusual, gentlemen, for ships to keep their pump handles clanging in full chorus throughout a fairly long voyage. That happens even in the lonely and savage seas far to the west of you. But the voyage must follow a reasonably accessible coast, or offer some other reasonable place of refuge. Only when a leaky ship is in some very remote part of those waters, in a truly landless latitude, does her captain begin to feel a little anxious.”

“Much this way had it been with the Town-Ho; so when her leak was found gaining once more, there was in truth some small concern manifested by several of her company; especially by Radney the mate. He commanded the upper sails to be well hoisted, sheeted home anew, and every way expanded to the breeze. Now this Radney, I suppose, was as little of a coward, and as little inclined to any sort of nervous apprehensiveness touching his own person as any fearless, unthinking creature on land or on sea that you can conveniently imagine, gentlemen. Therefore when he betrayed this solicitude about the safety of the ship, some of the seamen declared that it was only on account of his being a part owner in her. So when they were working that evening at the pumps, there was on this head no small gamesomeness slily going on among them, as they stood with their feet continually overflowed by the rippling clear water; clear as any mountain spring, gentlemen—that bubbling from the pumps ran across the deck, and poured itself out in steady spouts at the lee scupper-holes.

“Much the same had happened aboard the Town-Ho. So when her leak was found to be getting worse again, several of the crew showed some slight concern. Radney the mate was especially concerned. He ordered the upper sails hoisted high, secured again, and spread fully to catch the wind. Now, gentlemen, I suppose Radney was as little of a coward as any fearless, unthinking creature you can imagine on land or sea. He was just as unlikely to worry nervously about his own safety. So when he showed concern for the safety of the ship, some sailors said it was only because he was a part owner. That evening, as they worked the pumps, they made plenty of sly jokes about his concern. All the while, rippling clear water flowed over their feet. It bubbled from the pumps, ran across the deck, and poured out in steady streams through the lee scupper-holes. It was as clear as any mountain spring, gentlemen.”

“Now, as you well know, it is not seldom the case in this conventional world of ours—watery or otherwise; that when a person placed in command over his fellow-men finds one of them to be very significantly his superior in general pride of manhood, straightway against that man he conceives an unconquerable dislike and bitterness; and if he have a chance he will pull down and pulverize that subaltern’s tower, and make a little heap of dust of it. Be this conceit of mine as it may, gentlemen, at all events Steelkilt was a tall and noble animal with a head like a Roman, and a flowing golden beard like the tasseled housings of your last viceroy’s snorting charger; and a brain, and a heart, and a soul in him, gentlemen, which had made Steelkilt Charlemagne, had he been born son to Charlemagne’s father. But Radney, the mate, was ugly as a mule; yet as hardy, as stubborn, as malicious. He did not love Steelkilt, and Steelkilt knew it.

“Now, as you well know, something often happens in our conventional world, whether at sea or on land. A man in command may find that one of his subordinates is far superior to him in manly pride. The commander immediately feels an unconquerable dislike and bitterness toward that man. If he gets the chance, he will tear down and pulverize his subordinate’s tower, reducing it to dust. “Whatever you may think of my idea, gentlemen, Steelkilt was certainly a tall and noble animal. He had a head like a Roman and a flowing golden beard. The beard resembled the tasseled trappings of your last viceroy’s snorting horse. He had the brains, heart, and soul to be Charlemagne, gentlemen, if he had been born to Charlemagne’s father. But Radney, the mate, was as ugly as a mule, and just as hardy, stubborn, and malicious. He did not love Steelkilt, and Steelkilt knew it.

“Espying the mate drawing near as he was toiling at the pump with the rest, the Lakeman affected not to notice him, but unawed, went on with his gay banterings.

“While working at the pump with the others, the Lakeman saw the mate approaching. He pretended not to notice him, but kept up his cheerful banter, unafraid.

“‘Aye, aye, my merry lads, it’s a lively leak this; hold a cannikin, one of ye, and let’s have a taste. By the Lord, it’s worth bottling! I tell ye what, men, old Rad’s investment must go for it! he had best cut away his part of the hull and tow it home. The fact is, boys, that sword-fish only began the job; he’s come back again with a gang of ship-carpenters, saw-fish, and file-fish, and what not; and the whole posse of ’em are now hard at work cutting and slashing at the bottom; making improvements, I suppose. If old Rad were here now, I’d tell him to jump overboard and scatter ’em. They’re playing the devil with his estate, I can tell him. But he’s a simple old soul,—Rad, and a beauty too. Boys, they say the rest of his property is invested in looking-glasses. I wonder if he’d give a poor devil like me the model of his nose.’

“‘Yes, yes, my merry lads, this is quite a leak! One of you hold a small can under it, and let’s have a taste. By the Lord, it’s worth bottling! I tell you, men, old Rad’s investment must pay for this! He’d better cut away his part of the hull and tow it home. The fact is, boys, that swordfish only started the job. He’s come back with a gang of ship carpenters, sawfish, filefish, and who knows what else. The whole gang is hard at work cutting and slashing at the bottom of the ship. Making improvements, I suppose. If old Rad were here now, I’d tell him to jump overboard and scatter them. They’re playing the devil with his property, I can tell him. But Rad’s a simple old soul, and a beauty too. Boys, they say the rest of his property is invested in mirrors. I wonder if he’d give a poor devil like me a model of his nose.’

“‘Damn your eyes! what’s that pump stopping for?’ roared Radney, pretending not to have heard the sailors’ talk. ‘Thunder away at it!’

“‘Damn you! Why has that pump stopped?’ Radney roared, pretending he hadn’t heard the sailors talking. ‘Keep pumping!’”

“‘Aye, aye, sir,’ said Steelkilt, merry as a cricket. ‘Lively, boys, lively, now!’ And with that the pump clanged like fifty fire-engines; the men tossed their hats off to it, and ere long that peculiar gasping of the lungs was heard which denotes the fullest tension of life’s utmost energies.

“‘Aye, aye, sir,’ said Steelkilt, cheerful as a cricket. ‘Get moving, boys, get moving now!’ With that, the pump clanged like fifty fire engines. The men tossed off their hats as they worked the pump. Before long, they were gasping in the distinctive way that shows every ounce of energy is being spent.

“Quitting the pump at last, with the rest of his band, the Lakeman went forward all panting, and sat himself down on the windlass; his face fiery red, his eyes bloodshot, and wiping the profuse sweat from his brow. Now what cozening fiend it was, gentlemen, that possessed Radney to meddle with such a man in that corporeally exasperated state, I know not; but so it happened. Intolerably striding along the deck, the mate commanded him to get a broom and sweep down the planks, and also a shovel, and remove some offensive matters consequent upon allowing a pig to run at large.

“Finally, the Lakeman and the rest of his crew left the pump. Panting, he went forward and sat down on the windlass. His face was fiery red and his eyes were bloodshot. He wiped the heavy sweat from his brow. Gentlemen, I do not know what deceitful devil possessed Radney to meddle with a man in such a physically exhausted and agitated state. But that is what happened. The mate strode intolerably along the deck and ordered him to get a broom and sweep the planks. He also told him to get a shovel and remove some filth left by a pig allowed to roam freely.

“Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship’s deck at sea is a piece of household work which in all times but raging gales is regularly attended to every evening; it has been known to be done in the case of ships actually foundering at the time. Such, gentlemen, is the inflexibility of sea-usages and the instinctive love of neatness in seamen; some of whom would not willingly drown without first washing their faces. But in all vessels this broom business is the prescriptive province of the boys, if boys there be aboard. Besides, it was the stronger men in the Town-Ho that had been divided into gangs, taking turns at the pumps; and being the most athletic seaman of them all, Steelkilt had been regularly assigned captain of one of the gangs; consequently he should have been freed from any trivial business not connected with truly nautical duties, such being the case with his comrades. I mention all these particulars so that you may understand exactly how this affair stood between the two men.

“Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship’s deck at sea is a household chore done every evening, except during raging gales. Crews have even been known to sweep the deck while their ships were sinking. Such, gentlemen, is the rigidity of customs at sea and the instinctive love of neatness among sailors. Some would not willingly drown without first washing their faces. But on all ships, sweeping is traditionally the boys’ job, if there are boys aboard. Besides, the stronger men on the Town-Ho had been divided into gangs that took turns at the pumps. Steelkilt was the most athletic sailor of them all, so he had been made captain of one of the gangs. As a result, he should have been excused from any trivial work unrelated to actual seafaring duties, just as his comrades were. I mention all these details so that you can understand exactly how matters stood between the two men.”

“But there was more than this: the order about the shovel was almost as plainly meant to sting and insult Steelkilt, as though Radney had spat in his face. Any man who has gone sailor in a whale-ship will understand this; and all this and doubtless much more, the Lakeman fully comprehended when the mate uttered his command. But as he sat still for a moment, and as he steadfastly looked into the mate’s malignant eye and perceived the stacks of powder-casks heaped up in him and the slow-match silently burning along towards them; as he instinctively saw all this, that strange forbearance and unwillingness to stir up the deeper passionateness in any already ireful being—a repugnance most felt, when felt at all, by really valiant men even when aggrieved—this nameless phantom feeling, gentlemen, stole over Steelkilt.

“But there was more to it than that. The order to use the shovel was meant to sting and insult Steelkilt, almost as plainly as if Radney had spat in his face. Any man who has sailed on a whaling ship will understand this. The Lakeman understood all of it, and doubtless much more, when the mate gave the order. But Steelkilt sat still for a moment and stared steadily into the mate’s hostile eyes. He saw the stacks of powder casks piled up inside the mate, and the slow-burning fuse silently creeping toward them. Steelkilt sensed all this instinctively. And so a strange restraint came over him, a reluctance to stir up deeper passions in someone already angry. Truly brave men feel this reluctance most, when they feel it at all, even when they have been wronged. This nameless, ghostly feeling, gentlemen, stole over Steelkilt.

“Therefore, in his ordinary tone, only a little broken by the bodily exhaustion he was temporarily in, he answered him saying that sweeping the deck was not his business, and he would not do it. And then, without at all alluding to the shovel, he pointed to three lads as the customary sweepers; who, not being billeted at the pumps, had done little or nothing all day. To this, Radney replied with an oath, in a most domineering and outrageous manner unconditionally reiterating his command; meanwhile advancing upon the still seated Lakeman, with an uplifted cooper’s club hammer which he had snatched from a cask near by.

“Therefore, he answered in his usual tone, his voice only slightly weakened by his temporary physical exhaustion. He said that sweeping the deck was not his job, and he would not do it. Without mentioning the shovel, he pointed to three lads who usually swept the deck. They had done little or nothing all day because they had not been assigned to the pumps. Radney swore and repeated his order without qualification, in a domineering and outrageous manner. Meanwhile, he advanced on Lakeman, who was still seated. Radney had snatched a cooper’s club hammer from a nearby cask and now raised it.

“Heated and irritated as he was by his spasmodic toil at the pumps, for all his first nameless feeling of forbearance the sweating Steelkilt could but ill brook this bearing in the mate; but somehow still smothering the conflagration within him, without speaking he remained doggedly rooted to his seat, till at last the incensed Radney shook the hammer within a few inches of his face, furiously commanding him to do his bidding.

“Steelkilt was sweating, hot, and irritated from his fitful work at the pumps. Despite his first, nameless impulse to hold back, he could hardly tolerate the mate’s behavior. But he somehow kept his anger in check and stayed stubbornly in his seat without speaking. At last, the furious Radney shook the hammer inches from Steelkilt’s face and angrily ordered him to obey.

“Steelkilt rose, and slowly retreating round the windlass, steadily followed by the mate with his menacing hammer, deliberately repeated his intention not to obey. Seeing, however, that his forbearance had not the slightest effect, by an awful and unspeakable intimation with his twisted hand he warned off the foolish and infatuated man; but it was to no purpose. And in this way the two went once slowly round the windlass; when, resolved at last no longer to retreat, bethinking him that he had now forborne as much as comported with his humor, the Lakeman paused on the hatches and thus spoke to the officer:

“Steelkilt rose and slowly backed around the windlass. The mate followed steadily, threatening him with his hammer. Steelkilt deliberately repeated that he would not obey. But when he saw that his restraint had no effect, he warned off the foolish, reckless man. He did so with a terrible, unspeakable gesture of his twisted hand. But the warning was useless. In this way, the two slowly circled the windlass once. At last, the Lakeman decided he would retreat no farther. He felt he had shown as much restraint as his temper allowed. He stopped on the hatch covers and spoke to the officer:

“‘Mr. Radney, I will not obey you. Take that hammer away, or look to yourself.’ But the predestinated mate coming still closer to him, where the Lakeman stood fixed, now shook the heavy hammer within an inch of his teeth; meanwhile repeating a string of insufferable maledictions. Retreating not the thousandth part of an inch; stabbing him in the eye with the unflinching poniard of his glance, Steelkilt, clenching his right hand behind him and creepingly drawing it back, told his persecutor that if the hammer but grazed his cheek he (Steelkilt) would murder him. But, gentlemen, the fool had been branded for the slaughter by the gods. Immediately the hammer touched the cheek; the next instant the lower jaw of the mate was stove in his head; he fell on the hatch spouting blood like a whale.

“‘Mr. Radney, I will not obey you. Take that hammer away, or watch out.’ But the doomed mate came closer to the Lakeman, who stood his ground. Radney shook the heavy hammer within an inch of Steelkilt’s teeth, all the while hurling unbearable curses. Steelkilt did not retreat even a thousandth of an inch. His unflinching stare stabbed into Radney’s eye like a dagger. He clenched his right hand behind him and slowly drew it back. He told his persecutor that if the hammer so much as grazed his cheek, he would murder him. But, gentlemen, the gods had marked the fool for slaughter. The hammer touched Steelkilt’s cheek. The next instant, the mate’s lower jaw was smashed into his head. He fell on the hatch, spouting blood like a whale.

“Ere the cry could go aft Steelkilt was shaking one of the backstays leading far aloft to where two of his comrades were standing their mastheads. They were both Canallers.

“Before the cry could reach the rear of the ship, Steelkilt shook one of the backstays. The rope led high up to where two of his comrades were standing watch at the mastheads. Both were Canallers.

“‘Canallers!’ cried Don Pedro. ‘We have seen many whale-ships in our harbours, but never heard of your Canallers. Pardon: who and what are they?’

“‘Canallers!’ cried Don Pedro. ‘We have seen many whaling ships in our harbors, but we have never heard of your Canallers. Excuse me, who and what are they?’”

“‘Canallers, Don, are the boatmen belonging to our grand Erie Canal. You must have heard of it.’

“‘Canallers, Don, are the boatmen who work on our grand Erie Canal. You must have heard of the canal.’

“‘Nay, Senor; hereabouts in this dull, warm, most lazy, and hereditary land, we know but little of your vigorous North.’

“‘No, Senor. Here in this dull, warm, very lazy land handed down to us, we know little of your energetic North.’”

“‘Aye? Well then, Don, refill my cup. Your chicha’s very fine; and ere proceeding further I will tell ye what our Canallers are; for such information may throw side-light upon my story.’

“‘Really? Well then, Don, refill my cup. Your chicha is very good. Before I go on, I’ll tell you who our Canallers are. That information may shed some light on my story.’

“For three hundred and sixty miles, gentlemen, through the entire breadth of the state of New York; through numerous populous cities and most thriving villages; through long, dismal, uninhabited swamps, and affluent, cultivated fields, unrivalled for fertility; by billiard-room and bar-room; through the holy-of-holies of great forests; on Roman arches over Indian rivers; through sun and shade; by happy hearts or broken; through all the wide contrasting scenery of those noble Mohawk counties; and especially, by rows of snow-white chapels, whose spires stand almost like milestones, flows one continual stream of Venetianly corrupt and often lawless life. There’s your true Ashantee, gentlemen; there howl your pagans; where you ever find them, next door to you; under the long-flung shadow, and the snug patronising lee of churches. For by some curious fatality, as it is often noted of your metropolitan freebooters that they ever encamp around the halls of justice, so sinners, gentlemen, most abound in holiest vicinities.

“For 360 miles, gentlemen, a continuous stream of life flows across the entire width of New York state. It flows through many crowded cities and thriving villages, through long, bleak, uninhabited swamps and rich, cultivated fields of unmatched fertility. It flows past billiard rooms and bars, through the sacred heart of great forests, and over Indian rivers on Roman arches. It flows through sun and shade, past happy hearts and broken hearts, through all the varied landscapes of those noble Mohawk counties. And especially, it flows past rows of snow-white chapels, whose spires stand almost like milestones. This stream of life is corrupt as Venice and often lawless. There is your true Ashantee, gentlemen. There your pagans howl, right next door to you, where you always find them. They live under the long shadows of churches, sheltered comfortably by their patronage. For by some curious fate, sinners are most plentiful near the holiest places, gentlemen. It is much as people often observe of big-city outlaws, who always camp around the halls of justice.

“‘Is that a friar passing?’ said Don Pedro, looking downwards into the crowded plazza, with humorous concern.

“‘Is that a friar passing by?’ said Don Pedro, looking down at the crowded plaza with playful concern.

“‘Well for our northern friend, Dame Isabella’s Inquisition wanes in Lima,’ laughed Don Sebastian. ‘Proceed, Senor.’

“‘It’s a good thing for our northern friend that Dame Isabella’s Inquisition is losing power in Lima,’ Don Sebastian laughed. ‘Go on, Senor.’”

“‘A moment! Pardon!’ cried another of the company. ‘In the name of all us Limeese, I but desire to express to you, sir sailor, that we have by no means overlooked your delicacy in not substituting present Lima for distant Venice in your corrupt comparison. Oh! do not bow and look surprised; you know the proverb all along this coast—“Corrupt as Lima.” It but bears out your saying, too; churches more plentiful than billiard-tables, and for ever open—and “Corrupt as Lima.” So, too, Venice; I have been there; the holy city of the blessed evangelist, St. Mark!—St. Dominic, purge it! Your cup! Thanks: here I refill; now, you pour out again.’

“‘One moment! Excuse me!’ cried another member of the company. ‘On behalf of all us Limeese, I just want to say something, sir sailor. We certainly noticed your tact in choosing distant Venice rather than Lima today for your comparison of corruption. Oh! Don’t bow and look surprised. You know the saying all along this coast: “Corrupt as Lima.” The saying also backs up your point. Churches are more plentiful than billiard tables, and always open, yet “Corrupt as Lima.” The same goes for Venice. I’ve been there, the holy city of the blessed evangelist, St. Mark! St. Dominic, cleanse it! Your cup! Thanks. I’ll refill it. Now, pour some more out.’”

“Freely depicted in his own vocation, gentlemen, the Canaller would make a fine dramatic hero, so abundantly and picturesquely wicked is he. Like Mark Antony, for days and days along his green-turfed, flowery Nile, he indolently floats, openly toying with his red-cheeked Cleopatra, ripening his apricot thigh upon the sunny deck. But ashore, all this effeminacy is dashed. The brigandish guise which the Canaller so proudly sports; his slouched and gaily-ribboned hat betoken his grand features. A terror to the smiling innocence of the villages through which he floats; his swart visage and bold swagger are not unshunned in cities. Once a vagabond on his own canal, I have received good turns from one of these Canallers; I thank him heartily; would fain be not ungrateful; but it is often one of the prime redeeming qualities of your man of violence, that at times he has as stiff an arm to back a poor stranger in a strait, as to plunder a wealthy one. In sum, gentlemen, what the wildness of this canal life is, is emphatically evinced by this; that our wild whale-fishery contains so many of its most finished graduates, and that scarce any race of mankind, except Sydney men, are so much distrusted by our whaling captains. Nor does it at all diminish the curiousness of this matter, that to many thousands of our rural boys and young men born along its line, the probationary life of the Grand Canal furnishes the sole transition between quietly reaping in a Christian corn-field, and recklessly ploughing the waters of the most barbaric seas.

“Gentlemen, portrayed honestly in his own line of work, the Canaller would make a fine dramatic hero. He is so thoroughly and colorfully wicked. Like Mark Antony, he floats idly for days along his Nile, with its grassy banks and flowers. He openly plays with his red-cheeked Cleopatra, his apricot-colored thigh ripening on the sunny deck. But ashore, all this softness disappears. The Canaller proudly dresses like a bandit. His slouched hat, with its bright ribbons, signals his grand character. He terrifies the cheerful, innocent villagers he passes. Even in cities, people avoid his dark face and bold swagger. Once, when I was a wanderer on his canal, one of these Canallers did me some kindnesses. I thank him heartily and would not want to be ungrateful. But one of the chief redeeming qualities of a violent man is often his willingness to help a poor stranger in trouble. At times, his arm is as strong for that as it is for robbing a wealthy stranger. In short, gentlemen, the wildness of canal life is clearly shown by this fact. Our wild whale-fishery has so many of the canal's most accomplished graduates among its men. And our whaling captains distrust hardly any group of people as much as Canallers, except Sydney men. The matter is all the more curious because of what the Grand Canal means to thousands of rural boys and young men born along it. Their training in canal life is their only transition between quietly harvesting a Christian cornfield and recklessly ploughing the waters of the most barbaric seas.

“‘I see! I see!’ impetuously exclaimed Don Pedro, spilling his chicha upon his silvery ruffles. ‘No need to travel! The world’s one Lima. I had thought, now, that at your temperate North the generations were cold and holy as the hills.—But the story.’

“‘I see! I see!’ Don Pedro exclaimed impulsively, spilling his chicha on his silvery ruffles. ‘No need to travel! The whole world is one Lima. I had thought that in your mild North, generations of people were as cold and holy as the hills. But the story.’”

“I left off, gentlemen, where the Lakeman shook the backstay. Hardly had he done so, when he was surrounded by the three junior mates and the four harpooneers, who all crowded him to the deck. But sliding down the ropes like baleful comets, the two Canallers rushed into the uproar, and sought to drag their man out of it towards the forecastle. Others of the sailors joined with them in this attempt, and a twisted turmoil ensued; while standing out of harm’s way, the valiant captain danced up and down with a whale-pike, calling upon his officers to manhandle that atrocious scoundrel, and smoke him along to the quarter-deck. At intervals, he ran close up to the revolving border of the confusion, and prying into the heart of it with his pike, sought to prick out the object of his resentment. But Steelkilt and his desperadoes were too much for them all; they succeeded in gaining the forecastle deck, where, hastily slewing about three or four large casks in a line with the windlass, these sea-Parisians entrenched themselves behind the barricade.

“I left off, gentlemen, where the Lakeman shook the backstay. Hardly had he done so when the three junior mates and four harpooneers surrounded him. Together, they forced him down onto the deck. But the two Canallers slid down the ropes like ominous comets and rushed into the uproar. They tried to drag their man out of the fight and toward the forecastle. Other sailors joined their attempt, and a tangled struggle followed. Meanwhile, the valiant captain stood out of harm’s way, dancing up and down with a whale-pike. He called on his officers to rough up that atrocious scoundrel and drive him to the quarter-deck. From time to time, he ran close to the shifting edge of the struggle. He thrust his pike into the middle, trying to prick out the man he resented. But Steelkilt and his desperadoes were too much for them all. They managed to reach the forecastle deck, where they quickly turned three or four large casks into line with the windlass. These sea-Parisians then entrenched themselves behind the barricade.

“‘Come out of that, ye pirates!’ roared the captain, now menacing them with a pistol in each hand, just brought to him by the steward. ‘Come out of that, ye cut-throats!’

“‘Come out of there, you pirates!’ roared the captain. He threatened them with a pistol in each hand. The steward had just brought him the pistols. ‘Come out of there, you cutthroats!’

“Steelkilt leaped on the barricade, and striding up and down there, defied the worst the pistols could do; but gave the captain to understand distinctly, that his (Steelkilt’s) death would be the signal for a murderous mutiny on the part of all hands. Fearing in his heart lest this might prove but too true, the captain a little desisted, but still commanded the insurgents instantly to return to their duty.

“Steelkilt leaped onto the barricade and paced back and forth, daring the captain to fire his pistols. But he made it clear that his death would signal all hands to begin a murderous mutiny. The captain feared this threat might prove all too true, so he backed down a little. But he still ordered the rebels to return to duty at once.

“‘Will you promise not to touch us, if we do?’ demanded their ringleader.

“‘Will you promise not to touch us if we do?’ demanded their leader.

“‘Turn to! turn to!—I make no promise;—to your duty! Do you want to sink the ship, by knocking off at a time like this? Turn to!’ and he once more raised a pistol.

“‘Get to work! Get to work! I make no promise. Do your duty! Do you want to sink the ship by stopping work at a time like this? Get to work!’ And he raised a pistol again.

“‘Sink the ship?’ cried Steelkilt. ‘Aye, let her sink. Not a man of us turns to, unless you swear not to raise a rope-yarn against us. What say ye, men?’ turning to his comrades. A fierce cheer was their response.

“‘Sink the ship?’ cried Steelkilt. ‘Yes, let her sink. None of us will get to work unless you swear not to punish us. What do you say, men?’ He turned to his comrades. They answered with a fierce cheer.

“The Lakeman now patrolled the barricade, all the while keeping his eye on the Captain, and jerking out such sentences as these:—‘It’s not our fault; we didn’t want it; I told him to take his hammer away; it was boy’s business; he might have known me before this; I told him not to prick the buffalo; I believe I have broken a finger here against his cursed jaw; ain’t those mincing knives down in the forecastle there, men? look to those handspikes, my hearties. Captain, by God, look to yourself; say the word; don’t be a fool; forget it all; we are ready to turn to; treat us decently, and we’re your men; but we won’t be flogged.’

“The Lakeman now paced along the barricade, keeping his eye on the Captain. All the while, he spat out remarks like these: ‘It’s not our fault. We didn’t want it. I told him to take his hammer away. It was boy’s business. He should have known me by now. I told him not to prick the buffalo. I think I broke a finger against his cursed jaw. Aren’t those mincing knives down in the forecastle, men? Watch those handspikes, my hearties. Captain, by God, watch yourself. Give the order. Don’t be a fool. Forget it all. We’re ready to get back to work. Treat us decently, and we’re your men. But we won’t be flogged.’”

“‘Turn to! I make no promises, turn to, I say!’

“‘Get to work! I make no promises. Get to work, I said!’”

“‘Look ye, now,’ cried the Lakeman, flinging out his arm towards him, ‘there are a few of us here (and I am one of them) who have shipped for the cruise, d’ye see; now as you well know, sir, we can claim our discharge as soon as the anchor is down; so we don’t want a row; it’s not our interest; we want to be peaceable; we are ready to work, but we won’t be flogged.’

“‘Look here,’ cried the Lakeman, flinging out his arm toward him. ‘A few of us here have signed on for this voyage, and I’m one of them. Now, as you well know, sir, we can claim our discharge as soon as the anchor is down. So we don’t want a fight. It’s not in our interest. We want to be peaceful. We’re ready to work, but we won’t be flogged.’”

“‘Turn to!’ roared the Captain.

“‘Get to work!’ roared the captain.

“Steelkilt glanced round him a moment, and then said:—‘I tell you what it is now, Captain, rather than kill ye, and be hung for such a shabby rascal, we won’t lift a hand against ye unless ye attack us; but till you say the word about not flogging us, we don’t do a hand’s turn.’

“Steelkilt glanced around for a moment, then said: ‘Here’s how it is, Captain. We don’t want to kill you and be hanged for such a shabby rascal. So we won’t lift a hand against you unless you attack us. But until you promise not to flog us, we won’t do a stroke of work.’”

“‘Down into the forecastle then, down with ye, I’ll keep ye there till ye’re sick of it. Down ye go.’

“‘Down into the forecastle, then. Get down there. I’ll keep you there until you’re sick of it. Down you go.’

“‘Shall we?’ cried the ringleader to his men. Most of them were against it; but at length, in obedience to Steelkilt, they preceded him down into their dark den, growlingly disappearing, like bears into a cave.

“‘Shall we?’ the ringleader called to his men. Most of them were against it. But finally, obeying Steelkilt, they went down ahead of him into their dark den. They disappeared with growls, like bears entering a cave.

“As the Lakeman’s bare head was just level with the planks, the Captain and his posse leaped the barricade, and rapidly drawing over the slide of the scuttle, planted their group of hands upon it, and loudly called for the steward to bring the heavy brass padlock belonging to the companionway. Then opening the slide a little, the Captain whispered something down the crack, closed it, and turned the key upon them—ten in number—leaving on deck some twenty or more, who thus far had remained neutral.

“Just as the Lakeman’s bare head reached the level of the deck planks, the Captain and his men leaped over the barricade. They quickly pulled the hatch cover shut and pressed their hands down on it. They called loudly for the steward to bring the heavy brass padlock for the companionway. Then the Captain opened the cover a little and whispered something through the crack. He closed it and locked the ten men below. Some twenty or more remained on deck, having stayed neutral until then.

“All night a wide-awake watch was kept by all the officers, forward and aft, especially about the forecastle scuttle and fore hatchway; at which last place it was feared the insurgents might emerge, after breaking through the bulkhead below. But the hours of darkness passed in peace; the men who still remained at their duty toiling hard at the pumps, whose clinking and clanking at intervals through the dreary night dismally resounded through the ship.

“All night, all the officers kept an alert watch throughout the ship. They watched especially around the forecastle scuttle and the forward hatchway. They feared the insurgents might break through the bulkhead below and emerge through the forward hatchway. But the hours of darkness passed peacefully. The men who remained on duty worked hard at the pumps. The pumps clinked and clanked at intervals, echoing mournfully through the ship during the dreary night.

“At sunrise the Captain went forward, and knocking on the deck, summoned the prisoners to work; but with a yell they refused. Water was then lowered down to them, and a couple of handfuls of biscuit were tossed after it; when again turning the key upon them and pocketing it, the Captain returned to the quarter-deck. Twice every day for three days this was repeated; but on the fourth morning a confused wrangling, and then a scuffling was heard, as the customary summons was delivered; and suddenly four men burst up from the forecastle, saying they were ready to turn to. The fetid closeness of the air, and a famishing diet, united perhaps to some fears of ultimate retribution, had constrained them to surrender at discretion. Emboldened by this, the Captain reiterated his demand to the rest, but Steelkilt shouted up to him a terrific hint to stop his babbling and betake himself where he belonged. On the fifth morning three others of the mutineers bolted up into the air from the desperate arms below that sought to restrain them. Only three were left.

“At sunrise the Captain went forward and knocked on the deck, calling the prisoners to work. But they yelled back and refused. Water was lowered to them, and a couple of handfuls of biscuit were tossed down after it. The Captain then locked the prisoners in again, pocketed the key, and returned to the quarter-deck. This was repeated twice a day for three days. But on the fourth morning, when the usual call came, confused arguing was heard, followed by a scuffle. Suddenly four men burst out of the forecastle, saying they were ready to work. The foul, stifling air and starvation rations had forced them to surrender unconditionally. Fear of eventual punishment may also have played a part. Encouraged by this surrender, the Captain again demanded that the rest come to work. But Steelkilt shouted a terrifying warning to stop babbling and go where he belonged. On the fifth morning, three more mutineers rushed up into the open air. They broke free of the desperate arms below that tried to hold them back. Only three were left.”

“‘Better turn to, now?’ said the Captain with a heartless jeer.

“‘Better get to work now?’ said the Captain with a heartless sneer.

“‘Shut us up again, will ye!’ cried Steelkilt.

“‘You’ll lock us up again, will you!’ cried Steelkilt.

“‘Oh certainly,’ said the Captain, and the key clicked.

“‘Oh, certainly,’ said the Captain, and the key clicked.

“It was at this point, gentlemen, that enraged by the defection of seven of his former associates, and stung by the mocking voice that had last hailed him, and maddened by his long entombment in a place as black as the bowels of despair; it was then that Steelkilt proposed to the two Canallers, thus far apparently of one mind with him, to burst out of their hole at the next summoning of the garrison; and armed with their keen mincing knives (long, crescentic, heavy implements with a handle at each end) run amuck from the bowsprit to the taffrail; and if by any devilishness of desperation possible, seize the ship. For himself, he would do this, he said, whether they joined him or not. That was the last night he should spend in that den. But the scheme met with no opposition on the part of the other two; they swore they were ready for that, or for any other mad thing, for anything in short but a surrender. And what was more, they each insisted upon being the first man on deck, when the time to make the rush should come. But to this their leader as fiercely objected, reserving that priority for himself; particularly as his two comrades would not yield, the one to the other, in the matter; and both of them could not be first, for the ladder would but admit one man at a time. And here, gentlemen, the foul play of these miscreants must come out.

“It was at this point, gentlemen, that Steelkilt made his proposal to the two Canallers. Seven of his former associates had deserted him, and he was enraged. The mocking voice that had last called to him had stung him. His long imprisonment in a place as black as the bowels of despair had driven him mad. The two Canallers had so far seemed to agree with him. He proposed that they burst out of their hole the next time the garrison called for them. Armed with their sharp mincing knives, they would run amok from the bowsprit to the taffrail. These knives were long, heavy, crescent-shaped tools with a handle at each end. If they could somehow manage it through the devilish power of desperation, they would seize the ship. Steelkilt said he would do this whether the two joined him or not. That would be his last night in the den. But the other two did not oppose the plan. They swore they were ready for it, or for any other mad act, in short, for anything but surrender. What was more, each insisted on being the first man on deck when the time came to rush out. But their leader objected just as fiercely and claimed the first place for himself. He did so especially because neither of his two comrades would give way to the other. Both could not be first, since the ladder could admit only one man at a time. And here, gentlemen, the foul play of these villains must come to light.

“Upon hearing the frantic project of their leader, each in his own separate soul had suddenly lighted, it would seem, upon the same piece of treachery, namely: to be foremost in breaking out, in order to be the first of the three, though the last of the ten, to surrender; and thereby secure whatever small chance of pardon such conduct might merit. But when Steelkilt made known his determination still to lead them to the last, they in some way, by some subtle chemistry of villany, mixed their before secret treacheries together; and when their leader fell into a doze, verbally opened their souls to each other in three sentences; and bound the sleeper with cords, and gagged him with cords; and shrieked out for the Captain at midnight.

“On hearing their leader’s desperate plan, each man seems to have secretly hit on the same act of treachery. Each wanted to be first to break out, so he could surrender first among the three, though last among the ten. That way, he might secure whatever small chance of a pardon such conduct deserved. But Steelkilt made it known that he was determined to lead them to the very end. Somehow, through a subtle chemistry of villainy, the men then combined their secret schemes. When their leader dozed off, they revealed their thoughts to one another in three sentences. They tied the sleeping man up with cords, gagged him with cords, and shrieked for the Captain at midnight.

“Thinking murder at hand, and smelling in the dark for the blood, he and all his armed mates and harpooneers rushed for the forecastle. In a few minutes the scuttle was opened, and, bound hand and foot, the still struggling ringleader was shoved up into the air by his perfidious allies, who at once claimed the honor of securing a man who had been fully ripe for murder. But all these were collared, and dragged along the deck like dead cattle; and, side by side, were seized up into the mizzen rigging, like three quarters of meat, and there they hung till morning. ‘Damn ye,’ cried the Captain, pacing to and fro before them, ‘the vultures would not touch ye, ye villains!’

“Thinking a murder was about to happen and sniffing for blood in the dark, he rushed to the forecastle. All his armed mates and harpooners rushed there with him. Within minutes, the hatch was opened. The ringleader was still struggling, but his treacherous allies bound him hand and foot and shoved him up through the hatch. They immediately claimed credit for capturing a man who had been ready to commit murder. But they were all grabbed by the collar and dragged along the deck like dead cattle. They were tied side by side to the mizzen rigging, like three quarters of meat, and hung there until morning. ‘Damn you,’ cried the Captain, pacing back and forth in front of them, ‘the vultures wouldn’t touch you, you villains!’

“At sunrise he summoned all hands; and separating those who had rebelled from those who had taken no part in the mutiny, he told the former that he had a good mind to flog them all round—thought, upon the whole, he would do so—he ought to—justice demanded it; but for the present, considering their timely surrender, he would let them go with a reprimand, which he accordingly administered in the vernacular.

“At sunrise, he called the whole crew together. He separated the rebels from those who had taken no part in the mutiny. He told the rebels he was strongly inclined to flog every one of them. On the whole, he thought he would do it. He ought to. Justice demanded it. But for now, since they had surrendered in time, he would let them off with a reprimand. He then reprimanded them in plain language.

“‘But as for you, ye carrion rogues,’ turning to the three men in the rigging—‘for you, I mean to mince ye up for the try-pots;’ and, seizing a rope, he applied it with all his might to the backs of the two traitors, till they yelled no more, but lifelessly hung their heads sideways, as the two crucified thieves are drawn.

“‘But as for you, you carrion rogues,’ he said, turning to the three men in the rigging. ‘I mean to chop you up for the try-pots.’ He seized a rope and beat the two traitors’ backs with all his might. At last they stopped yelling and hung their heads lifelessly to one side, like the two crucified thieves in pictures.

“‘My wrist is sprained with ye!’ he cried, at last; ‘but there is still rope enough left for you, my fine bantam, that wouldn’t give up. Take that gag from his mouth, and let us hear what he can say for himself.’

“‘You’ve sprained my wrist!’ he cried at last. ‘But there’s still enough rope left for you, my feisty little fighter who wouldn’t give up. Take the gag from his mouth, and let’s hear what he has to say for himself.’”

“For a moment the exhausted mutineer made a tremulous motion of his cramped jaws, and then painfully twisting round his head, said in a sort of hiss, ‘What I say is this—and mind it well—if you flog me, I murder you!’

“For a moment, the exhausted mutineer moved his cramped jaws unsteadily. Then he painfully turned his head and said, almost hissing, ‘Listen carefully to what I say. If you flog me, I’ll murder you!’”

“‘Say ye so? then see how ye frighten me’—and the Captain drew off with the rope to strike.

“‘Is that so? Then see how much you frighten me.’ And the Captain drew back the rope to strike.

“‘Best not,’ hissed the Lakeman.

“‘Better not,’ hissed the Lakeman.

“‘But I must,’—and the rope was once more drawn back for the stroke.

“‘But I must,’ and the rope was pulled back again for the blow.

“Steelkilt here hissed out something, inaudible to all but the Captain; who, to the amazement of all hands, started back, paced the deck rapidly two or three times, and then suddenly throwing down his rope, said, ‘I won’t do it—let him go—cut him down: d’ye hear?’

“Steelkilt hissed something that only the Captain could hear. To the amazement of the whole crew, the Captain stepped back and paced rapidly across the deck two or three times. Then he suddenly threw down his rope and said, ‘I won’t do it. Let him go. Cut him down. Do you hear?’”

“But as the junior mates were hurrying to execute the order, a pale man, with a bandaged head, arrested them—Radney the chief mate. Ever since the blow, he had lain in his berth; but that morning, hearing the tumult on the deck, he had crept out, and thus far had watched the whole scene. Such was the state of his mouth, that he could hardly speak; but mumbling something about his being willing and able to do what the captain dared not attempt, he snatched the rope and advanced to his pinioned foe.

“But as the junior mates hurried to carry out the order, a pale man with a bandaged head stopped them. It was Radney, the chief mate. He had lain in his berth ever since the blow. But that morning, he had heard the commotion on deck and crept out. He had watched the whole scene so far. His mouth was in such bad shape that he could hardly speak. But he mumbled that he was willing and able to do what the captain dared not attempt. Then he snatched the rope and approached his bound enemy.

“‘You are a coward!’ hissed the Lakeman.

“‘You are a coward!’ hissed the Lakeman.

“‘So I am, but take that.’ The mate was in the very act of striking, when another hiss stayed his uplifted arm. He paused: and then pausing no more, made good his word, spite of Steelkilt’s threat, whatever that might have been. The three men were then cut down, all hands were turned to, and, sullenly worked by the moody seamen, the iron pumps clanged as before.

“‘I am, but take that.’ The mate was about to strike when another hiss stopped his raised arm. He paused, then struck as he had said he would, despite Steelkilt’s threat, whatever it might have been. The three men were then cut down, and all hands returned to work. The iron pumps clanged as before, worked sullenly by the gloomy sailors.

“Just after dark that day, when one watch had retired below, a clamor was heard in the forecastle; and the two trembling traitors running up, besieged the cabin door, saying they durst not consort with the crew. Entreaties, cuffs, and kicks could not drive them back, so at their own instance they were put down in the ship’s run for salvation. Still, no sign of mutiny reappeared among the rest. On the contrary, it seemed, that mainly at Steelkilt’s instigation, they had resolved to maintain the strictest peacefulness, obey all orders to the last, and, when the ship reached port, desert her in a body. But in order to insure the speediest end to the voyage, they all agreed to another thing—namely, not to sing out for whales, in case any should be discovered. For, spite of her leak, and spite of all her other perils, the Town-Ho still maintained her mast-heads, and her captain was just as willing to lower for a fish that moment, as on the day his craft first struck the cruising ground; and Radney the mate was quite as ready to change his berth for a boat, and with his bandaged mouth seek to gag in death the vital jaw of the whale.

“Just after dark that day, one watch had gone below when an uproar broke out in the forecastle. The two trembling traitors ran up and crowded around the cabin door, saying they dared not stay with the crew. Pleas, blows, and kicks could not drive them back. So, at their own request, they were put in the ship’s run for safety. Still, the rest showed no further sign of mutiny. On the contrary, it seemed that, mainly at Steelkilt’s urging, they had resolved to remain strictly peaceful. They would obey every order to the last and desert the ship together when it reached port. But to end the voyage as quickly as possible, they all agreed on one more thing. They would not call out if they spotted any whales. For despite her leak and all her other dangers, the Town-Ho still kept lookouts at the mastheads. Her captain was just as willing to lower a boat for a whale then as when his ship first reached the cruising grounds. And Radney the mate was just as ready to leave his berth for a boat. With his mouth bandaged, he would seek to silence the whale’s living jaw in death.

“But though the Lakeman had induced the seamen to adopt this sort of passiveness in their conduct, he kept his own counsel (at least till all was over) concerning his own proper and private revenge upon the man who had stung him in the ventricles of his heart. He was in Radney the chief mate’s watch; and as if the infatuated man sought to run more than half way to meet his doom, after the scene at the rigging, he insisted, against the express counsel of the captain, upon resuming the head of his watch at night. Upon this, and one or two other circumstances, Steelkilt systematically built the plan of his revenge.

“Although the Lakeman had persuaded the sailors to remain passive, he kept his own plans secret. At least until it was all over, he said nothing about his personal revenge against the man who had wounded him to the depths of his heart. He was in the watch led by Radney, the chief mate. After the scene at the rigging, Radney insisted on resuming command of his watch at night, despite the captain’s express advice. It was as if the misguided man were going more than halfway to meet his doom. Steelkilt methodically built his plan for revenge around Radney’s decision and one or two other circumstances.

“During the night, Radney had an unseamanlike way of sitting on the bulwarks of the quarter-deck, and leaning his arm upon the gunwale of the boat which was hoisted up there, a little above the ship’s side. In this attitude, it was well known, he sometimes dozed. There was a considerable vacancy between the boat and the ship, and down between this was the sea. Steelkilt calculated his time, and found that his next trick at the helm would come round at two o’clock, in the morning of the third day from that in which he had been betrayed. At his leisure, he employed the interval in braiding something very carefully in his watches below.

“At night, Radney had an unseamanlike habit. He would sit on the quarterdeck railing and lean his arm on the edge of a boat hoisted there, just above the ship’s side. Everyone knew that he sometimes dozed in this position. There was a considerable gap between the boat and the ship, with the sea below. Steelkilt worked out when his next turn at the helm would come. It would be at two in the morning, on the third day after he had been betrayed. In the meantime, he took his time carefully braiding something while he was off duty below deck.

“‘What are you making there?’ said a shipmate.

“‘What are you making there?’ asked a shipmate.

“‘What do you think? what does it look like?’

“‘What do you think? What does it look like?’

“‘Like a lanyard for your bag; but it’s an odd one, seems to me.’

“‘Like a cord for your bag, but it seems like an odd one to me.’

“‘Yes, rather oddish,’ said the Lakeman, holding it at arm’s length before him; ‘but I think it will answer. Shipmate, I haven’t enough twine,—have you any?’

“‘Yes, rather odd,’ said the Lakeman, holding it out at arm’s length. ‘But I think it will do. Shipmate, I don’t have enough twine. Do you have any?’”

“But there was none in the forecastle.

“But there was none in the forecastle.

“‘Then I must get some from old Rad;’ and he rose to go aft.

“‘Then I must get some from old Rad.’ He stood up to go to the back of the ship.

“‘You don’t mean to go a begging to him!’ said a sailor.

“‘You don’t mean to go begging to him!’ said a sailor.

“‘Why not? Do you think he won’t do me a turn, when it’s to help himself in the end, shipmate?’ and going to the mate, he looked at him quietly, and asked him for some twine to mend his hammock. It was given him—neither twine nor lanyard were seen again; but the next night an iron ball, closely netted, partly rolled from the pocket of the Lakeman’s monkey jacket, as he was tucking the coat into his hammock for a pillow. Twenty-four hours after, his trick at the silent helm—nigh to the man who was apt to doze over the grave always ready dug to the seaman’s hand—that fatal hour was then to come; and in the fore-ordaining soul of Steelkilt, the mate was already stark and stretched as a corpse, with his forehead crushed in.

“‘Why not? Do you think he won’t do me a favor when it will help him in the end, shipmate?’ He went to the mate, looked at him calmly, and asked for some twine to mend his hammock. The mate gave it to him. Neither the twine nor the lanyard was ever seen again. But the next night, an iron ball wrapped tightly in netting partly rolled out of the Lakeman’s monkey jacket pocket. He was tucking the coat into his hammock to use as a pillow. Twenty-four hours later, he would take his turn at the silent helm, near the man who tended to doze above the sea, the grave always ready for a sailor. That would be the fatal hour. In Steelkilt’s determined mind, the mate was already stretched out like a stiff corpse, his forehead crushed in.

“But, gentlemen, a fool saved the would-be murderer from the bloody deed he had planned. Yet complete revenge he had, and without being the avenger. For by a mysterious fatality, Heaven itself seemed to step in to take out of his hands into its own the damning thing he would have done.

“But, gentlemen, a fool saved the would-be murderer from carrying out the bloody deed he had planned. Yet he had his complete revenge without taking it himself. For by a mysterious twist of fate, Heaven itself seemed to step in. It seemed to take the damning deed he had planned out of his hands and into its own.

“It was just between daybreak and sunrise of the morning of the second day, when they were washing down the decks, that a stupid Teneriffe man, drawing water in the main-chains, all at once shouted out, ‘There she rolls! there she rolls!’ Jesu, what a whale! It was Moby Dick.

“It was between daybreak and sunrise on the second day, and the crew were washing down the decks. A stupid man from Teneriffe was drawing water from the main-chains when he suddenly shouted, ‘There she rolls! There she rolls!’ Jesus, what a whale! It was Moby Dick.

“‘Moby Dick!’ cried Don Sebastian; ‘St. Dominic! Sir sailor, but do whales have christenings? Whom call you Moby Dick?’

“‘Moby Dick!’ cried Don Sebastian. ‘St. Dominic! Sailor, do whales have christenings? Which whale do you call Moby Dick?’

“‘A very white, and famous, and most deadly immortal monster, Don;—but that would be too long a story.’

“‘A very white, famous, and extremely deadly immortal monster, Don. But that is too long a story.’

“‘How? how?’ cried all the young Spaniards, crowding.

“‘How? How?’ shouted all the young Spaniards, crowding together.

“‘Nay, Dons, Dons—nay, nay! I cannot rehearse that now. Let me get more into the air, Sirs.’

“‘No, Dons, Dons, no, no! I can’t recount that now. Let me get more air, gentlemen.’

“‘The chicha! the chicha!’ cried Don Pedro; ‘our vigorous friend looks faint;—fill up his empty glass!’

“‘The chicha! The chicha!’ cried Don Pedro. ‘Our energetic friend looks faint. Fill his empty glass!’”

“No need, gentlemen; one moment, and I proceed.—Now, gentlemen, so suddenly perceiving the snowy whale within fifty yards of the ship—forgetful of the compact among the crew—in the excitement of the moment, the Teneriffe man had instinctively and involuntarily lifted his voice for the monster, though for some little time past it had been plainly beheld from the three sullen mast-heads. All was now a phrensy. ‘The White Whale—the White Whale!’ was the cry from captain, mates, and harpooneers, who, undeterred by fearful rumours, were all anxious to capture so famous and precious a fish; while the dogged crew eyed askance, and with curses, the appalling beauty of the vast milky mass, that lit up by a horizontal spangling sun, shifted and glistened like a living opal in the blue morning sea. Gentlemen, a strange fatality pervades the whole career of these events, as if verily mapped out before the world itself was charted. The mutineer was the bowsman of the mate, and when fast to a fish, it was his duty to sit next him, while Radney stood up with his lance in the prow, and haul in or slacken the line, at the word of command. Moreover, when the four boats were lowered, the mate’s got the start; and none howled more fiercely with delight than did Steelkilt, as he strained at his oar. After a stiff pull, their harpooneer got fast, and, spear in hand, Radney sprang to the bow. He was always a furious man, it seems, in a boat. And now his bandaged cry was, to beach him on the whale’s topmost back. Nothing loath, his bowsman hauled him up and up, through a blinding foam that blent two whitenesses together; till of a sudden the boat struck as against a sunken ledge, and keeling over, spilled out the standing mate. That instant, as he fell on the whale’s slippery back, the boat righted, and was dashed aside by the swell, while Radney was tossed over into the sea, on the other flank of the whale. He struck out through the spray, and, for an instant, was dimly seen through that veil, wildly seeking to remove himself from the eye of Moby Dick. But the whale rushed round in a sudden maelstrom; seized the swimmer between his jaws; and rearing high up with him, plunged headlong again, and went down.

“No need, gentlemen. One moment, and I will continue. Now, gentlemen, the man from Teneriffe suddenly saw the snowy whale within fifty yards of the ship. In his excitement, he forgot the crew’s agreement and instinctively cried out that he had sighted the monster. Yet the whale had already been plainly visible for some time from all three sullen mastheads. Now everyone was in a frenzy. ‘The White Whale, the White Whale!’ cried the captain, mates, and harpooneers. Undeterred by frightening rumors, they all wanted to capture such a famous and valuable fish. Meanwhile, the grim crew cursed and looked sideways at the vast, milky mass and its terrifying beauty. Lit by the sparkling rays of the low sun, the whale shifted and glistened like a living opal in the blue morning sea. Gentlemen, a strange fate runs through this whole course of events, as if it had been mapped out before the world itself was charted. The mutineer was the mate’s bowsman. When a whale was harpooned, his duty was to sit beside it while Radney stood in the prow with his lance. There the bowsman had to haul in or pay out the line on command. Moreover, when the four boats were lowered, the mate’s boat got ahead. None howled more fiercely with delight than Steelkilt as he strained at his oar. After a hard pull, their harpooneer struck and fastened his line to the whale. Radney sprang to the bow, spear in hand. It seems he was always a furious man in a boat. Now, speaking through his bandages, he shouted for the bowsman to pull him onto the whale’s uppermost back. The bowsman was only too willing. He hauled Radney closer and closer, through blinding foam that mingled its whiteness with the whale’s. Suddenly, the boat struck as if it had hit a submerged ledge. It tipped over, spilling the mate, who was standing, onto the whale’s slippery back. At that instant, the boat righted itself and the swell dashed it aside. Radney was tossed into the sea on the whale’s other side. He struck out through the spray. For an instant, he could be dimly seen through that veil, wildly trying to get away from Moby Dick’s eye. But the whale turned sharply, churning the water into a whirlpool. He seized the swimmer in his jaws and reared high with him. Then he plunged headfirst and went down.

“Meantime, at the first tap of the boat’s bottom, the Lakeman had slackened the line, so as to drop astern from the whirlpool; calmly looking on, he thought his own thoughts. But a sudden, terrific, downward jerking of the boat, quickly brought his knife to the line. He cut it; and the whale was free. But, at some distance, Moby Dick rose again, with some tatters of Radney’s red woollen shirt, caught in the teeth that had destroyed him. All four boats gave chase again; but the whale eluded them, and finally wholly disappeared.

“Meanwhile, at the first tap on the boat’s bottom, the Lakeman loosened the line so the boat could drift back from the whirlpool. He watched calmly, absorbed in his own thoughts. But a sudden, violent downward jerk of the boat made him quickly take his knife to the line. He cut it, and the whale was free. But Moby Dick surfaced again some distance away. Shreds of Radney’s red woolen shirt were caught in the teeth that had destroyed him. All four boats gave chase again, but the whale escaped them and finally disappeared completely.

“In good time, the Town-Ho reached her port—a savage, solitary place—where no civilized creature resided. There, headed by the Lakeman, all but five or six of the foremastmen deliberately deserted among the palms; eventually, as it turned out, seizing a large double war-canoe of the savages, and setting sail for some other harbor.

“In time, the Town-Ho reached her port, a wild, lonely place where no civilized person lived. There, led by the Lakeman, all but five or six of the sailors deliberately deserted among the palms. As it later turned out, they seized a large double war canoe belonging to the local people and sailed for another harbor.

“The ship’s company being reduced to but a handful, the captain called upon the Islanders to assist him in the laborious business of heaving down the ship to stop the leak. But to such unresting vigilance over their dangerous allies was this small band of whites necessitated, both by night and by day, and so extreme was the hard work they underwent, that upon the vessel being ready again for sea, they were in such a weakened condition that the captain durst not put off with them in so heavy a vessel. After taking counsel with his officers, he anchored the ship as far off shore as possible; loaded and ran out his two cannon from the bows; stacked his muskets on the poop; and warning the Islanders not to approach the ship at their peril, took one man with him, and setting the sail of his best whale-boat, steered straight before the wind for Tahiti, five hundred miles distant, to procure a reinforcement to his crew.

“The crew had been reduced to a handful of men. The captain called on the Islanders to help with the hard work of heaving down the ship to stop the leak. But the small band of white men had to keep constant watch over their dangerous allies, day and night. The work was also so hard that, by the time the ship was ready for sea again, the men were weakened. The captain did not dare sail with them in such a heavy vessel. After consulting his officers, he anchored the ship as far offshore as possible. He loaded his two cannons and ran them out from the bows, then stacked his muskets on the poop deck. He warned the Islanders that they approached the ship at their peril. Taking one man with him, he set the sail of his best whale-boat. He then sailed straight before the wind for Tahiti, five hundred miles away, to obtain more men for his crew.

“On the fourth day of the sail, a large canoe was descried, which seemed to have touched at a low isle of corals. He steered away from it; but the savage craft bore down on him; and soon the voice of Steelkilt hailed him to heave to, or he would run him under water. The captain presented a pistol. With one foot on each prow of the yoked war-canoes, the Lakeman laughed him to scorn; assuring him that if the pistol so much as clicked in the lock, he would bury him in bubbles and foam.

“On the fourth day of the voyage, they spotted a large canoe that seemed to have stopped at a low coral island. The captain steered away from the canoe, but the warriors’ craft headed straight for him. Soon Steelkilt called out, ordering him to stop or he would sink him. The captain aimed a pistol at him. Standing with one foot on each bow of the two war canoes lashed together, the Lakeman laughed at him. He warned the captain that if the pistol so much as clicked, he would bury him in bubbles and foam.

“‘What do you want of me?’ cried the captain.

“‘What do you want from me?’ cried the captain.

“‘Where are you bound? and for what are you bound?’ demanded Steelkilt; ‘no lies.’

“‘Where are you headed? And why are you going there?’ Steelkilt demanded. ‘No lies.’”

“‘I am bound to Tahiti for more men.’

“‘I’m heading to Tahiti for more men.’

“‘Very good. Let me board you a moment—I come in peace.’ With that he leaped from the canoe, swam to the boat; and climbing the gunwale, stood face to face with the captain.

“‘All right. Let me come aboard for a moment. I come in peace.’ With that, he jumped from the canoe and swam to the boat. He climbed over the side and stood face to face with the captain.

“‘Cross your arms, sir; throw back your head. Now, repeat after me. As soon as Steelkilt leaves me, I swear to beach this boat on yonder island, and remain there six days. If I do not, may lightnings strike me!’

“‘Cross your arms, sir. Throw back your head. Now, repeat after me. As soon as Steelkilt leaves me, I swear to beach this boat on that island and stay there six days. If I do not, may lightning strike me!’

“‘A pretty scholar,’ laughed the Lakeman. ‘Adios, Senor!’ and leaping into the sea, he swam back to his comrades.

“‘Some scholar you are,’ the Lakeman laughed. ‘Goodbye, sir!’ He jumped into the sea and swam back to his companions.

“Watching the boat till it was fairly beached, and drawn up to the roots of the cocoa-nut trees, Steelkilt made sail again, and in due time arrived at Tahiti, his own place of destination. There, luck befriended him; two ships were about to sail for France, and were providentially in want of precisely that number of men which the sailor headed. They embarked; and so for ever got the start of their former captain, had he been at all minded to work them legal retribution.

“Steelkilt watched until the boat was safely beached and pulled up to the roots of the coconut trees. Then he set sail again and eventually reached Tahiti, his destination. There, luck was on his side. Two ships were about to sail for France, and by good fortune they needed exactly as many men as Steelkilt led. The men boarded the ships. So they got permanently beyond their former captain’s reach, if he had any intention of taking legal action against them.

“Some ten days after the French ships sailed, the whale-boat arrived, and the captain was forced to enlist some of the more civilized Tahitians, who had been somewhat used to the sea. Chartering a small native schooner, he returned with them to his vessel; and finding all right there, again resumed his cruisings.

“About ten days after the French ships sailed, the whaleboat arrived. The captain was forced to recruit some of the more civilized Tahitians, who had some experience at sea. He chartered a small native schooner and returned with them to his ship. Finding everything in order there, he resumed cruising.

“Where Steelkilt now is, gentlemen, none know; but upon the island of Nantucket, the widow of Radney still turns to the sea which refuses to give up its dead; still in dreams sees the awful white whale that destroyed him. * * * *

“No one knows where Steelkilt is now, gentlemen. But on the island of Nantucket, Radney’s widow still turns to the sea, which refuses to give up its dead. She still dreams of the terrible white whale that killed him. * * * *

“‘Are you through?’ said Don Sebastian, quietly.

“‘Are you finished?’ said Don Sebastian quietly.

“‘I am, Don.’

“‘I am, Don.’

“‘Then I entreat you, tell me if to the best of your own convictions, this your story is in substance really true? It is so passing wonderful! Did you get it from an unquestionable source? Bear with me if I seem to press.’

“‘Then please tell me, do you honestly believe your story is essentially true? It is so extraordinary! Did you get it from a source beyond doubt? Please bear with me if I seem to press you.’

“‘Also bear with all of us, sir sailor; for we all join in Don Sebastian’s suit,’ cried the company, with exceeding interest.

“‘Please be patient with all of us too, sailor. We all share Don Sebastian’s request,’ the group cried with great interest.

“‘Is there a copy of the Holy Evangelists in the Golden Inn, gentlemen?’

“‘Is there a copy of the Gospels in the Golden Inn, gentlemen?’

“‘Nay,’ said Don Sebastian; ‘but I know a worthy priest near by, who will quickly procure one for me. I go for it; but are you well advised? this may grow too serious.’

“‘No,’ said Don Sebastian, ‘but I know a good priest nearby who can quickly get one for me. I’ll go get it. But have you thought this through? This may become too serious.’”

“‘Will you be so good as to bring the priest also, Don?’

“‘Would you please bring the priest too, Don?’

“‘Though there are no Auto-da-Fés in Lima now,’ said one of the company to another; ‘I fear our sailor friend runs risk of the archiepiscopacy. Let us withdraw more out of the moonlight. I see no need of this.’

“‘Though there are no Auto-da-Fés in Lima now,’ one person said to another, ‘I fear our sailor friend risks punishment from the archbishop. Let’s move farther out of the moonlight. I see no need for this.’”

“‘Excuse me for running after you, Don Sebastian; but may I also beg that you will be particular in procuring the largest sized Evangelists you can.’

“‘Sorry to run after you, Don Sebastian. But may I also ask you to make sure you get the largest Evangelists you can?’”

“‘This is the priest, he brings you the Evangelists,’ said Don Sebastian, gravely, returning with a tall and solemn figure.

“‘This is the priest. He brings you the Evangelists,’ said Don Sebastian seriously, returning with a tall, solemn figure.

“‘Let me remove my hat. Now, venerable priest, further into the light, and hold the Holy Book before me that I may touch it.

“‘Let me take off my hat. Now, respected priest, step further into the light. Hold the Holy Book before me so I can touch it.

“‘So help me Heaven, and on my honor the story I have told ye, gentlemen, is in substance and its great items, true. I know it to be true; it happened on this ball; I trod the ship; I knew the crew; I have seen and talked with Steelkilt since the death of Radney.’”

“‘So help me Heaven, and on my honor, gentlemen, the story I have told you is true in substance and in its major details. I know it is true. It happened on this earth. I walked aboard the ship. I knew the crew. I have seen and spoken with Steelkilt since Radney’s death.’”