The Pequod Meets the Virgin

The predestinated day arrived, and we duly met the ship Jungfrau, Derick De Deer, master, of Bremen.

The fated day arrived, and as expected, we met the ship Jungfrau, from Bremen. Derick De Deer was its captain.

At one time the greatest whaling people in the world, the Dutch and Germans are now among the least; but here and there at very wide intervals of latitude and longitude, you still occasionally meet with their flag in the Pacific.

The Dutch and Germans were once the greatest whaling peoples in the world. Now they are among the least. But you still occasionally see their flags in the Pacific, though sightings are few and far between.

For some reason, the Jungfrau seemed quite eager to pay her respects. While yet some distance from the Pequod, she rounded to, and dropping a boat, her captain was impelled towards us, impatiently standing in the bows instead of the stern.

For some reason, the Jungfrau seemed eager to pay a visit. While still some distance from the Pequod, the ship turned and lowered a boat. Its captain was rowed toward us, impatiently standing in the bow instead of the stern.

“What has he in his hand there?” cried Starbuck, pointing to something wavingly held by the German. “Impossible!—a lamp-feeder!”

“What is he holding there?” cried Starbuck, pointing to something the German was waving in his hand. “Impossible! A lamp-feeder!”

“Not that,” said Stubb, “no, no, it’s a coffee-pot, Mr. Starbuck; he’s coming off to make us our coffee, is the Yarman; don’t you see that big tin can there alongside of him?—that’s his boiling water. Oh! he’s all right, is the Yarman.”

“Not that,” said Stubb. “No, no, it’s a coffee pot, Mr. Starbuck. The Yarman is coming over to make us coffee. Don’t you see that big tin can beside him? That’s his boiling water. Oh, the Yarman is all right.”

“Go along with you,” cried Flask, “it’s a lamp-feeder and an oil-can. He’s out of oil, and has come a-begging.”

“Oh, come on,” cried Flask. “It’s a lamp feeder and an oil can. He’s out of oil and has come begging for some.”

However curious it may seem for an oil-ship to be borrowing oil on the whale-ground, and however much it may invertedly contradict the old proverb about carrying coals to Newcastle, yet sometimes such a thing really happens; and in the present case Captain Derick De Deer did indubitably conduct a lamp-feeder as Flask did declare.

It may seem strange for an oil ship to borrow oil on the whaling grounds. It may also seem like the opposite of the old proverb about carrying coals to Newcastle. Yet such a thing sometimes happens. In this case, Captain Derick De Deer certainly did bring a lamp feeder, as Flask said.

As he mounted the deck, Ahab abruptly accosted him, without at all heeding what he had in his hand; but in his broken lingo, the German soon evinced his complete ignorance of the White Whale; immediately turning the conversation to his lamp-feeder and oil can, with some remarks touching his having to turn into his hammock at night in profound darkness—his last drop of Bremen oil being gone, and not a single flying-fish yet captured to supply the deficiency; concluding by hinting that his ship was indeed what in the Fishery is technically called a clean one (that is, an empty one), well deserving the name of Jungfrau or the Virgin.

As he came aboard, Ahab abruptly approached him, paying no attention to what he was carrying. But the German soon made it clear, in his broken English, that he knew nothing about the White Whale. He immediately turned the conversation to his lamp-feeder and oil can. He mentioned that he had to turn into his hammock in complete darkness at night. His last drop of Bremen oil was gone, and he had not yet caught a single flying-fish to make up for it. He ended by hinting that his ship was what whalers call a clean one (that is, an empty one). The ship well deserved the name Jungfrau, or the Virgin.

His necessities supplied, Derick departed; but he had not gained his ship’s side, when whales were almost simultaneously raised from the mast-heads of both vessels; and so eager for the chase was Derick, that without pausing to put his oil-can and lamp-feeder aboard, he slewed round his boat and made after the leviathan lamp-feeders.

With his needs met, Derick departed. But before he reached his ship, lookouts on both vessels spotted whales almost simultaneously. Derick was so eager to give chase that he turned his boat around without first putting his oil can and lamp feeder aboard. He went after the giant lamp feeders.

Now, the game having risen to leeward, he and the other three German boats that soon followed him, had considerably the start of the Pequod’s keels. There were eight whales, an average pod. Aware of their danger, they were going all abreast with great speed straight before the wind, rubbing their flanks as closely as so many spans of horses in harness. They left a great, wide wake, as though continually unrolling a great wide parchment upon the sea.

Now, the whales had surfaced downwind, so he and the three other German boats that soon followed him had a considerable head start on the Pequod’s boats. There were eight whales, an average-sized pod. Aware of the danger, all eight were swimming side by side at great speed, straight before the wind. Their flanks rubbed together as closely as horses harnessed in teams. They left a great, wide wake, as if they were continually unrolling a great, wide sheet of parchment across the sea.

Full in this rapid wake, and many fathoms in the rear, swam a huge, humped old bull, which by his comparatively slow progress, as well as by the unusual yellowish incrustations overgrowing him, seemed afflicted with the jaundice, or some other infirmity. Whether this whale belonged to the pod in advance, seemed questionable; for it is not customary for such venerable leviathans to be at all social. Nevertheless, he stuck to their wake, though indeed their back water must have retarded him, because the white-bone or swell at his broad muzzle was a dashed one, like the swell formed when two hostile currents meet. His spout was short, slow, and laborious; coming forth with a choking sort of gush, and spending itself in torn shreds, followed by strange subterranean commotions in him, which seemed to have egress at his other buried extremity, causing the waters behind him to upbubble.

Directly in the pod’s swift wake, many fathoms behind, swam a huge, humped old bull whale. He moved comparatively slowly, and unusual yellowish growths covered him. He seemed to suffer from jaundice or some other illness. It was uncertain whether the whale belonged to the pod ahead. Such venerable giants are not usually social. Nevertheless, he stayed in their wake, though their backwash must have slowed him. The white water, or swell, at his broad muzzle was choppy, like the swell where two opposing currents meet. His spout was short, slow, and labored. It came out in a choking gush and broke apart into ragged shreds. Strange rumblings followed deep inside him. They seemed to escape from his other submerged end, making the water bubble up behind him.

“Who’s got some paregoric?” said Stubb, “he has the stomach-ache, I’m afraid. Lord, think of having half an acre of stomach-ache! Adverse winds are holding mad Christmas in him, boys. It’s the first foul wind I ever knew to blow from astern; but look, did ever whale yaw so before? it must be, he’s lost his tiller.”

“Who’s got some paregoric?” said Stubb. “I’m afraid he has a stomachache. Lord, imagine having half an acre of stomachache! Bad winds are having a wild Christmas inside him, boys. It’s the first foul wind I’ve ever known to blow from behind. But look, has a whale ever swerved like that before? He must have lost his tiller.”

As an overladen Indiaman bearing down the Hindostan coast with a deck load of frightened horses, careens, buries, rolls, and wallows on her way; so did this old whale heave his aged bulk, and now and then partly turning over on his cumbrous rib-ends, expose the cause of his devious wake in the unnatural stump of his starboard fin. Whether he had lost that fin in battle, or had been born without it, it were hard to say.

An overloaded Indiaman sailing down the Hindostan coast pitches, plunges, rolls, and wallows along, with frightened horses crowding its deck. In the same way, the old whale heaved his massive, aged body through the water. Now and then he partly rolled onto his bulky ribs, exposing the reason for his crooked path: the unnatural stump of his right fin. It was hard to say whether he had lost the fin in battle or had been born without it.

“Only wait a bit, old chap, and I’ll give ye a sling for that wounded arm,” cried cruel Flask, pointing to the whale-line near him.

“Just wait a bit, old friend, and I’ll make you a sling for that wounded arm,” cruel Flask cried, pointing to the whale-line beside him.

“Mind he don’t sling thee with it,” cried Starbuck. “Give way, or the German will have him.”

“Watch out that he doesn’t fling you with it,” cried Starbuck. “Row, or the German will get him.”

With one intent all the combined rival boats were pointed for this one fish, because not only was he the largest, and therefore the most valuable whale, but he was nearest to them, and the other whales were going with such great velocity, moreover, as almost to defy pursuit for the time. At this juncture the Pequod’s keels had shot by the three German boats last lowered; but from the great start he had had, Derick’s boat still led the chase, though every moment neared by his foreign rivals. The only thing they feared, was, that from being already so nigh to his mark, he would be enabled to dart his iron before they could completely overtake and pass him. As for Derick, he seemed quite confident that this would be the case, and occasionally with a deriding gesture shook his lamp-feeder at the other boats.

All the rival boats, together in one purpose, headed for this one whale. He was the largest and therefore the most valuable, and he was also the closest. The other whales were moving so fast that, for the moment, pursuit was almost impossible. By now, the Pequod’s boats had passed the three German boats that had been lowered last. But Derick’s boat had such a head start that it still led the chase, though his foreign rivals were gaining on him every moment. They feared only that Derick was already so close to the whale that he could throw his harpoon before they could catch and pass him. Derick, for his part, seemed quite confident that he could do just that. Now and then, he shook his lamp-feeder mockingly at the other boats.

“The ungracious and ungrateful dog!” cried Starbuck; “he mocks and dares me with the very poor-box I filled for him not five minutes ago!”—then in his old intense whisper—“Give way, greyhounds! Dog to it!”

“The rude, ungrateful dog!” cried Starbuck. “He mocks and challenges me with the very poor-box I filled for him less than five minutes ago!” Then he spoke in his old, intense whisper. “Row, greyhounds! Put your backs into it!”

“I tell ye what it is, men”—cried Stubb to his crew—“it’s against my religion to get mad; but I’d like to eat that villainous Yarman—Pull—won’t ye? Are ye going to let that rascal beat ye? Do ye love brandy? A hogshead of brandy, then, to the best man. Come, why don’t some of ye burst a blood-vessel? Who’s that been dropping an anchor overboard—we don’t budge an inch—we’re becalmed. Halloo, here’s grass growing in the boat’s bottom—and by the Lord, the mast there’s budding. This won’t do, boys. Look at that Yarman! The short and long of it is, men, will ye spit fire or not?”

“Let me tell you, men,” Stubb cried to his crew, “it’s against my religion to get angry, but I’d like to eat that villainous Yarman. Pull, won’t you? Are you going to let that rascal beat you? Do you love brandy? Then a hogshead of brandy for the best man. Come on, why doesn’t someone burst a blood vessel? Who’s been dropping an anchor overboard? We’re not moving an inch. We’re becalmed. Hey, there’s grass growing in the bottom of the boat, and by the Lord, the mast is budding. This won’t do, boys. Look at that Yarman! So, men, will you spit fire or not?”

“Oh! see the suds he makes!” cried Flask, dancing up and down—“What a hump—Oh, do pile on the beef—lays like a log! Oh! my lads, do spring—slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads—baked clams and muffins—oh, do, do, spring,—he’s a hundred barreller—don’t lose him now—don’t oh, don’t!—see that Yarman—Oh, won’t ye pull for your duff, my lads—such a sog! such a sogger! Don’t ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men!—a bank!—a whole bank! The bank of England!—Oh, do, do, do!—What’s that Yarman about now?”

“Oh! Look at the foam he’s making!” cried Flask, jumping up and down. “What a hump! Oh, do put your backs into it! He’s lying there like a log! Oh, lads, do pull! You know, lads, there’ll be pancakes and quahogs for supper. Baked clams and muffins! Oh, do, do pull! He’s a hundred-barrel whale. Don’t lose him now. Don’t, oh, don’t! Look at that Yarman! Oh, won’t you pull for your duff, lads? What a heavy pull! What a heavy puller! Don’t you love sperm oil? There goes three thousand dollars, men! A bank! A whole bank! The Bank of England! Oh, do, do, do! What’s that Yarman doing now?”

At this moment Derick was in the act of pitching his lamp-feeder at the advancing boats, and also his oil-can; perhaps with the double view of retarding his rivals’ way, and at the same time economically accelerating his own by the momentary impetus of the backward toss.

At that moment, Derick was throwing his lamp-feeder and oil-can at the approaching boats. Perhaps he hoped to slow his rivals while also giving his own boat a quick boost with the backward throw, using no extra effort.

“The unmannerly Dutch dogger!” cried Stubb. “Pull now, men, like fifty thousand line-of-battle-ship loads of red-haired devils. What d’ye say, Tashtego; are you the man to snap your spine in two-and-twenty pieces for the honor of old Gayhead? What d’ye say?”

“That rude Dutch whaling boat!” cried Stubb. “Pull now, men, like fifty thousand warships full of red-haired devils. What do you say, Tashtego? Are you willing to break your spine into twenty-two pieces for the honor of old Gayhead? What do you say?”

“I say, pull like god-dam,”—cried the Indian.

“I say, pull like goddamn,” cried the Indian.

Fiercely, but evenly incited by the taunts of the German, the Pequod’s three boats now began ranging almost abreast; and, so disposed, momentarily neared him. In that fine, loose, chivalrous attitude of the headsman when drawing near to his prey, the three mates stood up proudly, occasionally backing the after oarsman with an exhilarating cry of, “There she slides, now! Hurrah for the white-ash breeze! Down with the Yarman! Sail over him!”

The German’s taunts spurred the Pequod’s three boats on with equal ferocity. They drew nearly side by side and gradually closed in on him. The three mates stood proudly, each with the graceful, relaxed bearing of a harpooner approaching his prey. Now and then, they urged on the oarsman behind them with an exhilarating cry: “There she slides, now! Hurrah for the white-ash breeze! Down with the Yarman! Sail over him!”

But so decided an original start had Derick had, that spite of all their gallantry, he would have proved the victor in this race, had not a righteous judgment descended upon him in a crab which caught the blade of his midship oarsman. While this clumsy lubber was striving to free his white-ash, and while, in consequence, Derick’s boat was nigh to capsizing, and he thundering away at his men in a mighty rage;—that was a good time for Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. With a shout, they took a mortal start forwards, and slantingly ranged up on the German’s quarter. An instant more, and all four boats were diagonically in the whale’s immediate wake, while stretching from them, on both sides, was the foaming swell that he made.

But Derick had such a clear head start that he would have won the race, despite all their courage. Then a righteous judgment came down on him. His middle oarsman caught a crab, jamming the blade of his oar in the water. As the clumsy fellow struggled to free his ash oar, Derick’s boat nearly capsized, and Derick thundered at his men in a mighty rage. This was a good opportunity for Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. With a shout, they surged forward with deadly speed and drew up at an angle alongside the rear of the German’s boat. An instant later, all four boats were diagonally aligned in the whale’s immediate wake. The foaming swell the whale made stretched out on both sides of the boats.

It was a terrific, most pitiable, and maddening sight. The whale was now going head out, and sending his spout before him in a continual tormented jet; while his one poor fin beat his side in an agony of fright. Now to this hand, now to that, he yawed in his faltering flight, and still at every billow that he broke, he spasmodically sank in the sea, or sideways rolled towards the sky his one beating fin. So have I seen a bird with clipped wing making affrighted broken circles in the air, vainly striving to escape the piratical hawks. But the bird has a voice, and with plaintive cries will make known her fear; but the fear of this vast dumb brute of the sea, was chained up and enchanted in him; he had no voice, save that choking respiration through his spiracle, and this made the sight of him unspeakably pitiable; while still, in his amazing bulk, portcullis jaw, and omnipotent tail, there was enough to appal the stoutest man who so pitied.

It was a terrifying, deeply pitiful, and maddening sight. The whale was now swimming with his head above water, sending a continuous, tortured jet of spray ahead of him. His one poor fin beat against his side in an agony of fear. He swerved from side to side in his faltering flight. With every wave he broke through, he sank convulsively into the sea or rolled sideways, raising his beating fin toward the sky. I have seen a bird with a clipped wing fly in frightened, broken circles, struggling in vain to escape predatory hawks. But the bird has a voice and can make her fear known with mournful cries. The fear of this vast, voiceless creature of the sea was locked and spellbound inside him. He had no voice except for the choking breath through his blowhole. This made the sight of him unbearably pitiful. Yet his enormous bulk, his jaw like a portcullis, and his all-powerful tail could still terrify the bravest man who pitied him.

Seeing now that but a very few moments more would give the Pequod’s boats the advantage, and rather than be thus foiled of his game, Derick chose to hazard what to him must have seemed a most unusually long dart, ere the last chance would for ever escape.

Derick saw that the Pequod’s boats would gain the advantage in just a few moments. Rather than lose his prey, he chose to risk what must have seemed to him an unusually long harpoon throw, before his last chance was gone forever.

But no sooner did his harpooneer stand up for the stroke, than all three tigers—Queequeg, Tashtego, Daggoo—instinctively sprang to their feet, and standing in a diagonal row, simultaneously pointed their barbs; and darted over the head of the German harpooneer, their three Nantucket irons entered the whale. Blinding vapors of foam and white-fire! The three boats, in the first fury of the whale’s headlong rush, bumped the German’s aside with such force, that both Derick and his baffled harpooneer were spilled out, and sailed over by the three flying keels.

But as soon as the German’s harpooneer stood up to strike, all three tigers sprang instinctively to their feet. Queequeg, Tashtego, and Daggoo stood in a diagonal row and pointed their barbs at the same time. They hurled their three Nantucket harpoons over the German harpooneer’s head and into the whale. Blinding clouds of foam and white fire! As the whale first rushed headlong away in a fury, the three boats bumped the German’s boat aside. They hit it so hard that both Derick and his thwarted harpooneer were thrown out. The three flying keels passed over them.

“Don’t be afraid, my butter-boxes,” cried Stubb, casting a passing glance upon them as he shot by; “ye’ll be picked up presently—all right—I saw some sharks astern—St. Bernard’s dogs, you know—relieve distressed travellers. Hurrah! this is the way to sail now. Every keel a sunbeam! Hurrah!—Here we go like three tin kettles at the tail of a mad cougar! This puts me in mind of fastening to an elephant in a tilbury on a plain—makes the wheel-spokes fly, boys, when you fasten to him that way; and there’s danger of being pitched out too, when you strike a hill. Hurrah! this is the way a fellow feels when he’s going to Davy Jones—all a rush down an endless inclined plane! Hurrah! this whale carries the everlasting mail!”

“Don’t be afraid, my butter-boxes,” cried Stubb, glancing at them as he sped past. “You’ll be picked up soon. It’s all right. I saw some sharks behind us. They’re St. Bernard’s dogs, you know. They help travelers in distress. Hurrah! This is the way to sail now. Every keel is a sunbeam! Hurrah! Here we go like three tin kettles tied to the tail of a mad cougar! This reminds me of hitching an elephant to a tilbury on a plain. It makes the wheel spokes fly, boys, when you hitch him up that way. And there’s a danger of being thrown out when you hit a hill. Hurrah! This is how a fellow feels when he’s going to Davy Jones. It’s all a rush down an endless slope! Hurrah! This whale carries the everlasting mail!”

But the monster’s run was a brief one. Giving a sudden gasp, he tumultuously sounded. With a grating rush, the three lines flew round the loggerheads with such a force as to gouge deep grooves in them; while so fearful were the harpooneers that this rapid sounding would soon exhaust the lines, that using all their dexterous might, they caught repeated smoking turns with the rope to hold on; till at last—owing to the perpendicular strain from the lead-lined chocks of the boats, whence the three ropes went straight down into the blue—the gunwales of the bows were almost even with the water, while the three sterns tilted high in the air. And the whale soon ceasing to sound, for some time they remained in that attitude, fearful of expending more line, though the position was a little ticklish. But though boats have been taken down and lost in this way, yet it is this “holding on,” as it is called; this hooking up by the sharp barbs of his live flesh from the back; this it is that often torments the Leviathan into soon rising again to meet the sharp lance of his foes. Yet not to speak of the peril of the thing, it is to be doubted whether this course is always the best; for it is but reasonable to presume, that the longer the stricken whale stays under water, the more he is exhausted. Because, owing to the enormous surface of him—in a full grown sperm whale something less than 2000 square feet—the pressure of the water is immense. We all know what an astonishing atmospheric weight we ourselves stand up under; even here, above-ground, in the air; how vast, then, the burden of a whale, bearing on his back a column of two hundred fathoms of ocean! It must at least equal the weight of fifty atmospheres. One whaleman has estimated it at the weight of twenty line-of-battle ships, with all their guns, and stores, and men on board.

But the monster’s run was brief. With a sudden gasp, he plunged violently down into the depths. The three lines rushed around the loggerheads with a grating sound, gouging deep grooves in them. The harpooneers feared that the whale’s rapid dive would soon exhaust the lines. With all their skill and strength, they repeatedly wrapped the smoking ropes around the loggerheads to hold on. The three ropes ran straight down into the blue water from the boats’ lead-lined chocks. At last, the downward strain pulled the bow gunwales almost level with the water, while the three sterns tilted high into the air. The whale soon stopped diving, but the boats remained in that position for some time. The crews feared letting out more line, though their position was a little precarious. Boats have been pulled under and lost this way. Yet “holding on,” as it is called, often torments the Leviathan into rising again to meet his enemies’ sharp lances. The whale is held by the sharp barbs hooked into the living flesh of his back. Even leaving aside the danger, though, it is doubtful whether holding on is always best. It seems reasonable to suppose that the longer a wounded whale stays underwater, the more exhausted he becomes. The pressure of the water against his enormous surface is immense. In a fully grown sperm whale, that surface measures a little less than 2,000 square feet. We all know the astonishing weight of the atmosphere that we ourselves bear, even here above ground, in the air. How vast, then, is the burden on a whale with a column of ocean 200 fathoms deep pressing on his back! It must equal at least the weight of fifty atmospheres. One whaleman has estimated it at the weight of twenty warships, complete with their guns, supplies, and crews.

As the three boats lay there on that gently rolling sea, gazing down into its eternal blue noon; and as not a single groan or cry of any sort, nay, not so much as a ripple or a bubble came up from its depths; what landsman would have thought, that beneath all that silence and placidity, the utmost monster of the seas was writhing and wrenching in agony! Not eight inches of perpendicular rope were visible at the bows. Seems it credible that by three such thin threads the great Leviathan was suspended like the big weight to an eight day clock. Suspended? and to what? To three bits of board. Is this the creature of whom it was once so triumphantly said—“Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish-spears? The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold, the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon: he esteemeth iron as straw; the arrow cannot make him flee; darts are counted as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear!” This the creature? this he? Oh! that unfulfilments should follow the prophets. For with the strength of a thousand thighs in his tail, Leviathan had run his head under the mountains of the sea, to hide him from the Pequod’s fish-spears!

The three boats lay on the gently rolling sea, looking down into its eternal blue noon. Not a single groan or cry rose from the depths. Not even a ripple or a bubble appeared. What landsman would have guessed that beneath all that silence and calm, the greatest sea monster was twisting and struggling in agony? Less than eight inches of upright rope showed at the bows. Could it be true that three such thin threads held up the great Leviathan, like the heavy weight of an eight-day clock? Held up? And by what? By three pieces of board. Was this the creature of whom it was once so triumphantly said, “Can you fill his skin with barbed irons, or his head with fish-spears? The sword, spear, dart, or armor of anyone who attacks him cannot withstand him. He regards iron as straw. No arrow can make him flee. He counts darts as stubble. He laughs at the shaking of a spear!” Was this the creature? Was this he? Oh, that the prophets’ words should go unfulfilled! For Leviathan, with the strength of a thousand thighs in his tail, had thrust his head beneath the mountains of the sea to hide from the Pequod’s fish-spears!

In that sloping afternoon sunlight, the shadows that the three boats sent down beneath the surface, must have been long enough and broad enough to shade half Xerxes’ army. Who can tell how appalling to the wounded whale must have been such huge phantoms flitting over his head!

In the slanting afternoon sunlight, the three boats must have cast long, broad shadows beneath the surface, enough to shade half of Xerxes’ army. Who can say how terrifying those huge shapes flitting overhead must have been to the wounded whale!

“Stand by, men; he stirs,” cried Starbuck, as the three lines suddenly vibrated in the water, distinctly conducting upwards to them, as by magnetic wires, the life and death throbs of the whale, so that every oarsman felt them in his seat. The next moment, relieved in great part from the downward strain at the bows, the boats gave a sudden bounce upwards, as a small icefield will, when a dense herd of white bears are scared from it into the sea.

“Stand ready, men. He’s moving,” cried Starbuck, as the three lines suddenly vibrated in the water. Like magnetic wires, they carried the whale’s throbs of life and death up to the men. Every oarsman felt them through his seat. The next moment, the downward pull on the boats’ bows eased considerably, and the boats suddenly bounced upward. They rose like a small ice field when a dense herd of polar bears is frightened off it into the sea.

“Haul in! Haul in!” cried Starbuck again; “he’s rising.”

“Pull it in! Pull it in!” Starbuck shouted again. “He’s coming up.”

The lines, of which, hardly an instant before, not one hand’s breadth could have been gained, were now in long quick coils flung back all dripping into the boats, and soon the whale broke water within two ship’s lengths of the hunters.

Only a moment earlier, the hunters could not have pulled in even a hand’s breadth of line. Now the lines were quickly flung back into the boats in long, dripping coils. Soon the whale broke the surface within two ship lengths of the hunters.

His motions plainly denoted his extreme exhaustion. In most land animals there are certain valves or flood-gates in many of their veins, whereby when wounded, the blood is in some degree at least instantly shut off in certain directions. Not so with the whale; one of whose peculiarities it is to have an entire non-valvular structure of the blood-vessels, so that when pierced even by so small a point as a harpoon, a deadly drain is at once begun upon his whole arterial system; and when this is heightened by the extraordinary pressure of water at a great distance below the surface, his life may be said to pour from him in incessant streams. Yet so vast is the quantity of blood in him, and so distant and numerous its interior fountains, that he will keep thus bleeding and bleeding for a considerable period; even as in a drought a river will flow, whose source is in the well-springs of far-off and undiscernible hills. Even now, when the boats pulled upon this whale, and perilously drew over his swaying flukes, and the lances were darted into him, they were followed by steady jets from the new made wound, which kept continually playing, while the natural spout-hole in his head was only at intervals, however rapid, sending its affrighted moisture into the air. From this last vent no blood yet came, because no vital part of him had thus far been struck. His life, as they significantly call it, was untouched.

His movements clearly showed his extreme exhaustion. In most land animals, many veins have valves or gates. When the animal is wounded, these at once partly shut off blood flow in certain directions. But the whale is different. One of its peculiarities is that its blood vessels have no valves at all. So even a small point, such as a harpoon, immediately starts a deadly drain on its entire arterial system. The extraordinary water pressure deep below the surface makes this worse. The whale's life may be said to pour out of it in endless streams. Yet the whale has so much blood, and its inner sources are so numerous and far apart, that it keeps bleeding for a long time. It is like a river flowing through a drought, fed by springs in distant hills beyond sight. Even now, the boats approached this whale and came dangerously close above its swaying tail flukes. Lances were thrust into it, and steady jets of blood followed from each new wound. These jets flowed continuously. Meanwhile, the whale's natural blowhole sent its frightened spray into the air only at intervals, however rapid. No blood yet came from the blowhole, because no vital part of the whale had been struck. His life, as they aptly call it, was untouched.

As the boats now more closely surrounded him, the whole upper part of his form, with much of it that is ordinarily submerged, was plainly revealed. His eyes, or rather the places where his eyes had been, were beheld. As strange misgrown masses gather in the knot-holes of the noblest oaks when prostrate, so from the points which the whale’s eyes had once occupied, now protruded blind bulbs, horribly pitiable to see. But pity there was none. For all his old age, and his one arm, and his blind eyes, he must die the death and be murdered, in order to light the gay bridals and other merry-makings of men, and also to illuminate the solemn churches that preach unconditional inoffensiveness by all to all. Still rolling in his blood, at last he partially disclosed a strangely discoloured bunch or protuberance, the size of a bushel, low down on the flank.

As the boats closed in around him, the whale’s whole upper body was clearly visible, including much that was usually underwater. His eyes, or rather the places where his eyes had been, could be seen. Strange, misshapen growths form in the knotholes of even the finest fallen oaks. Just so, blind bulbs now stuck out where the whale’s eyes had once been. They were horribly pitiful to see. But there was no pity. Despite his old age, his one arm, and his blind eyes, he had to die. He had to be murdered to light men’s joyful weddings and other celebrations. He also had to die to illuminate the solemn churches that preach that everyone should be harmless to everyone else, without exception. Still rolling in his blood, the whale finally partly revealed a strangely discolored lump low on his side, the size of a bushel.

“A nice spot,” cried Flask; “just let me prick him there once.”

“Nice spot!” cried Flask. “Just let me prick him there once.”

“Avast!” cried Starbuck, “there’s no need of that!”

“Stop!” cried Starbuck, “there’s no need for that!”

But humane Starbuck was too late. At the instant of the dart an ulcerous jet shot from this cruel wound, and goaded by it into more than sufferable anguish, the whale now spouting thick blood, with swift fury blindly darted at the craft, bespattering them and their glorying crews all over with showers of gore, capsizing Flask’s boat and marring the bows. It was his death stroke. For, by this time, so spent was he by loss of blood, that he helplessly rolled away from the wreck he had made; lay panting on his side, impotently flapped with his stumped fin, then over and over slowly revolved like a waning world; turned up the white secrets of his belly; lay like a log, and died. It was most piteous, that last expiring spout. As when by unseen hands the water is gradually drawn off from some mighty fountain, and with half-stifled melancholy gurglings the spray-column lowers and lowers to the ground—so the last long dying spout of the whale.

But compassionate Starbuck was too late. At the moment the harpoon struck, a diseased jet burst from the cruel wound. Driven beyond endurance by the pain, the whale spouted thick blood and charged blindly at the boats in sudden fury. He drenched the boats and their triumphant crews in showers of blood, capsized Flask’s boat, and damaged the bows. It was his final blow. By then, he had lost so much blood that he rolled helplessly away from the wreck he had made. He lay panting on his side and weakly flapped his stumped fin. Then he slowly rolled over and over like a dying world, exposing the white secrets of his belly. He lay like a log and died. His last dying spout was heartbreaking. It was like a mighty fountain slowly drained by unseen hands. With half-choked, mournful gurgles, its column of spray sinks lower and lower to the ground. So sank the whale’s last, long dying spout.

Soon, while the crews were awaiting the arrival of the ship, the body showed symptoms of sinking with all its treasures unrifled. Immediately, by Starbuck’s orders, lines were secured to it at different points, so that ere long every boat was a buoy; the sunken whale being suspended a few inches beneath them by the cords. By very heedful management, when the ship drew nigh, the whale was transferred to her side, and was strongly secured there by the stiffest fluke-chains, for it was plain that unless artificially upheld, the body would at once sink to the bottom.

Soon, as the crews waited for the ship, the whale’s body showed signs of sinking, with all its treasures still untouched. Starbuck immediately ordered lines secured to the body at different points. Before long, every boat was acting as a buoy, with the sunken whale suspended a few inches beneath them by the lines. When the ship drew near, the crews carefully moved the whale to its side. They secured the whale there with the strongest fluke chains. It was clear that unless the body was held up, it would sink at once to the bottom.

It so chanced that almost upon first cutting into him with the spade, the entire length of a corroded harpoon was found imbedded in his flesh, on the lower part of the bunch before described. But as the stumps of harpoons are frequently found in the dead bodies of captured whales, with the flesh perfectly healed around them, and no prominence of any kind to denote their place; therefore, there must needs have been some other unknown reason in the present case fully to account for the ulceration alluded to. But still more curious was the fact of a lance-head of stone being found in him, not far from the buried iron, the flesh perfectly firm about it. Who had darted that stone lance? And when? It might have been darted by some Nor’ West Indian long before America was discovered.

Almost as soon as the spade cut into the whale, the entire length of a corroded harpoon was found embedded in his flesh. It lay in the lower part of the bunch described earlier. But harpoon stumps are often found in the bodies of captured whales, with the flesh completely healed around them. There is no swelling or other mark to show where the stumps lie. So, in this case, there must have been some other, unknown reason for the ulceration mentioned earlier. Still more curious was the discovery of a stone lance-head in the whale, not far from the buried iron. The flesh around the stone was perfectly firm. Who had thrown that stone lance? And when? It might have been thrown by a Nor’ West Indian long before America was discovered.

What other marvels might have been rummaged out of this monstrous cabinet there is no telling. But a sudden stop was put to further discoveries, by the ship’s being unprecedentedly dragged over sideways to the sea, owing to the body’s immensely increasing tendency to sink. However, Starbuck, who had the ordering of affairs, hung on to it to the last; hung on to it so resolutely, indeed, that when at length the ship would have been capsized, if still persisting in locking arms with the body; then, when the command was given to break clear from it, such was the immovable strain upon the timber-heads to which the fluke-chains and cables were fastened, that it was impossible to cast them off. Meantime everything in the Pequod was aslant. To cross to the other side of the deck was like walking up the steep gabled roof of a house. The ship groaned and gasped. Many of the ivory inlayings of her bulwarks and cabins were started from their places, by the unnatural dislocation. In vain handspikes and crows were brought to bear upon the immovable fluke-chains, to pry them adrift from the timberheads; and so low had the whale now settled that the submerged ends could not be at all approached, while every moment whole tons of ponderosity seemed added to the sinking bulk, and the ship seemed on the point of going over.

There is no telling what other marvels might have been found in this monstrous cabinet. But further discoveries came to a sudden stop. The whale’s body was sinking more and more rapidly, dragging the ship over on her side toward the sea as never before. Still, Starbuck, who was in charge, held on to the body until the last moment. He held on so firmly that, at last, the ship would have capsized if she had remained attached to it. But when he ordered the crew to break free, the strain on the timber-heads was too great. The fluke-chains and cables were fastened to those timbers, and it was impossible to cast them off. Meanwhile, everything on the Pequod was tilted. Crossing to the other side of the deck was like walking up the steep gabled roof of a house. The ship groaned and gasped. The unnatural twisting had forced many of the ivory inlays in her bulwarks and cabins out of place. The crew used handspikes and crowbars to pry the fluke-chains loose from the timber-heads, but the chains would not budge. The whale had sunk so low that the submerged ends of the chains could not be reached at all. Every moment, the sinking bulk seemed to gain whole tons of weight, and the ship seemed about to roll over.

“Hold on, hold on, won’t ye?” cried Stubb to the body, “don’t be in such a devil of a hurry to sink! By thunder, men, we must do something or go for it. No use prying there; avast, I say with your handspikes, and run one of ye for a prayer book and a pen-knife, and cut the big chains.”

“Hold on, hold on, will you?” Stubb cried to the body. “Don’t be in such a devil of a hurry to sink! Damn it, men, we must do something or lose it. There’s no use prying there. Stop using your handspikes, I say. One of you, run and get a prayer book and a pocketknife, and cut the big chains.”

“Knife? Aye, aye,” cried Queequeg, and seizing the carpenter’s heavy hatchet, he leaned out of a porthole, and steel to iron, began slashing at the largest fluke-chains. But a few strokes, full of sparks, were given, when the exceeding strain effected the rest. With a terrific snap, every fastening went adrift; the ship righted, the carcase sank.

“Knife? Yes, yes,” cried Queequeg. He grabbed the carpenter’s heavy hatchet and leaned out of a porthole. He began slashing at the largest fluke chains, steel striking iron. But after only a few strokes, which sent sparks flying, the tremendous strain did the rest. With a terrible snap, every fastening came loose. The ship righted itself, and the carcass sank.

Now, this occasional inevitable sinking of the recently killed Sperm Whale is a very curious thing; nor has any fisherman yet adequately accounted for it. Usually the dead Sperm Whale floats with great buoyancy, with its side or belly considerably elevated above the surface. If the only whales that thus sank were old, meagre, and broken-hearted creatures, their pads of lard diminished and all their bones heavy and rheumatic; then you might with some reason assert that this sinking is caused by an uncommon specific gravity in the fish so sinking, consequent upon this absence of buoyant matter in him. But it is not so. For young whales, in the highest health, and swelling with noble aspirations, prematurely cut off in the warm flush and May of life, with all their panting lard about them; even these brawny, buoyant heroes do sometimes sink.

The occasional, unavoidable sinking of a recently killed Sperm Whale is a very curious thing. No fisherman has yet explained it adequately. Usually, a dead Sperm Whale floats high, with much of its side or belly above the surface. Suppose only old, thin, broken-hearted whales sank this way, with their fat reserves depleted and all their bones heavy and rheumatic. Then you might reasonably claim that the lack of buoyant material made these whales unusually dense, causing them to sink. But that is not so. Young whales in the best of health sometimes sink too. They may be full of noble aspirations, cut short in the warm flush and springtime of life. Even these muscular, buoyant heroes sometimes sink, with all their heaving fat still around them.

Be it said, however, that the Sperm Whale is far less liable to this accident than any other species. Where one of that sort go down, twenty Right Whales do. This difference in the species is no doubt imputable in no small degree to the greater quantity of bone in the Right Whale; his Venetian blinds alone sometimes weighing more than a ton; from this incumbrance the Sperm Whale is wholly free. But there are instances where, after the lapse of many hours or several days, the sunken whale again rises, more buoyant than in life. But the reason of this is obvious. Gases are generated in him; he swells to a prodigious magnitude; becomes a sort of animal balloon. A line-of-battle ship could hardly keep him under then. In the Shore Whaling, on soundings, among the Bays of New Zealand, when a Right Whale gives token of sinking, they fasten buoys to him, with plenty of rope; so that when the body has gone down, they know where to look for it when it shall have ascended again.

However, the Sperm Whale is far less likely to sink than any other species. For every Sperm Whale that sinks, twenty Right Whales do. This difference is no doubt due in large part to the greater amount of bone in the Right Whale. Its Venetian blinds alone sometimes weigh more than a ton. The Sperm Whale is entirely free of this burden. But sometimes a sunken whale rises again after many hours or several days, more buoyant than when alive. The reason is obvious. Gases form inside the whale, and it swells to an enormous size. It becomes a kind of animal balloon. Even a battleship could hardly keep it underwater then. In shore whaling in the bays of New Zealand, where the water is shallow, a Right Whale sometimes shows signs of sinking. When that happens, the whalers fasten buoys to it with plenty of rope. Then, after the body has sunk, they know where to look for it when it rises again.

It was not long after the sinking of the body that a cry was heard from the Pequod’s mast-heads, announcing that the Jungfrau was again lowering her boats; though the only spout in sight was that of a Fin-Back, belonging to the species of uncapturable whales, because of its incredible power of swimming. Nevertheless, the Fin-Back’s spout is so similar to the Sperm Whale’s, that by unskilful fishermen it is often mistaken for it. And consequently Derick and all his host were now in valiant chase of this unnearable brute. The Virgin crowding all sail, made after her four young keels, and thus they all disappeared far to leeward, still in bold, hopeful chase.

Not long after the body sank, a cry came from the Pequod’s mastheads. The Jungfrau was lowering her boats again. Yet the only spout in sight belonged to a Fin-Back, a whale that cannot be caught because it swims so incredibly fast. Still, a Fin-Back’s spout looks so much like a Sperm Whale’s that inexperienced fishermen often mistake one for the other. And so Derick and all his crew were bravely chasing this beast they could never get near. The Virgin set all her sails and followed her four boats. Soon they all disappeared far downwind, still in bold, hopeful pursuit.

Oh! many are the Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks, my friend.

Oh, my friend, there are many Fin-Backs and many Dericks.