The Great Fleet

The long and narrow peninsula of Malacca, extending south-eastward from the territories of Birmah, forms the most southerly point of all Asia. In a continuous line from that peninsula stretch the long islands of Sumatra, Java, Bally, and Timor; which, with many others, form a vast mole, or rampart, lengthwise connecting Asia with Australia, and dividing the long unbroken Indian ocean from the thickly studded oriental archipelagoes. This rampart is pierced by several sally-ports for the convenience of ships and whales; conspicuous among which are the straits of Sunda and Malacca. By the straits of Sunda, chiefly, vessels bound to China from the west, emerge into the China seas.

The long, narrow peninsula of Malacca extends southeast from the territories of Birmah. It forms the southernmost point of all Asia. The long islands of Sumatra, Java, Bally, and Timor stretch in a continuous line from the peninsula. Along with many other islands, they form a vast barrier connecting Asia with Australia. This barrier separates the long, unbroken Indian ocean from the densely scattered islands of the oriental archipelagoes. Several passages through the barrier allow ships and whales to pass. Among the most notable are the straits of Sunda and Malacca. Ships sailing to China from the west reach the China seas chiefly through the straits of Sunda.

Those narrow straits of Sunda divide Sumatra from Java; and standing midway in that vast rampart of islands, buttressed by that bold green promontory, known to seamen as Java Head; they not a little correspond to the central gateway opening into some vast walled empire: and considering the inexhaustible wealth of spices, and silks, and jewels, and gold, and ivory, with which the thousand islands of that oriental sea are enriched, it seems a significant provision of nature, that such treasures, by the very formation of the land, should at least bear the appearance, however ineffectual, of being guarded from the all-grasping western world. The shores of the Straits of Sunda are unsupplied with those domineering fortresses which guard the entrances to the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the Propontis. Unlike the Danes, these Orientals do not demand the obsequious homage of lowered top-sails from the endless procession of ships before the wind, which for centuries past, by night and by day, have passed between the islands of Sumatra and Java, freighted with the costliest cargoes of the east. But while they freely waive a ceremonial like this, they do by no means renounce their claim to more solid tribute.

The narrow Straits of Sunda separate Sumatra from Java. Midway along that vast wall of islands, they are supported by the bold green headland sailors call Java Head. The straits are much like the central gateway into a vast walled empire. The thousand islands of that eastern sea are rich in an inexhaustible wealth of spices, silks, jewels, gold, and ivory. So it seems meaningful that nature shaped the land to give those treasures at least the appearance of protection. However ineffective, that protection seems to guard them from the all-grasping western world. The shores of the Straits of Sunda have none of the imposing fortresses that guard the entrances to the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the Propontis. Unlike the Danes, these Eastern peoples do not demand the submissive tribute of lowered topsails. For centuries, an endless procession of ships has sailed before the wind between Sumatra and Java, by night and day. The ships carry the costliest cargoes of the east. But although these peoples freely waive such a ceremony, they by no means give up their claim to more substantial tribute.

Time out of mind the piratical proas of the Malays, lurking among the low shaded coves and islets of Sumatra, have sallied out upon the vessels sailing through the straits, fiercely demanding tribute at the point of their spears. Though by the repeated bloody chastisements they have received at the hands of European cruisers, the audacity of these corsairs has of late been somewhat repressed; yet, even at the present day, we occasionally hear of English and American vessels, which, in those waters, have been remorselessly boarded and pillaged.

For as long as anyone can remember, Malay pirates in proas have lurked among Sumatra’s low, shaded coves and islets. From there, they have attacked ships passing through the straits, fiercely demanding tribute at spearpoint. European cruisers have repeatedly punished the pirates in bloody encounters, curbing their boldness somewhat in recent times. Yet even today, we occasionally hear of English and American ships being mercilessly boarded and plundered in those waters.

With a fair, fresh wind, the Pequod was now drawing nigh to these straits; Ahab purposing to pass through them into the Javan sea, and thence, cruising northwards, over waters known to be frequented here and there by the Sperm Whale, sweep inshore by the Philippine Islands, and gain the far coast of Japan, in time for the great whaling season there. By these means, the circumnavigating Pequod would sweep almost all the known Sperm Whale cruising grounds of the world, previous to descending upon the Line in the Pacific; where Ahab, though everywhere else foiled in his pursuit, firmly counted upon giving battle to Moby Dick, in the sea he was most known to frequent; and at a season when he might most reasonably be presumed to be haunting it.

With a favorable, fresh wind, the Pequod was now approaching these straits. Ahab planned to pass through them into the Javan sea, then cruise north through waters where Sperm Whales were known to gather in places. He would sail close to the Philippine Islands and reach the distant coast of Japan in time for the great whaling season there. In this way, the Pequod, sailing around the world, would cover almost all the known Sperm Whale hunting grounds before heading down to the Line in the Pacific. Even if his pursuit failed everywhere else, Ahab fully expected to fight Moby Dick there. It was the sea the whale was best known to frequent, and the season when he could most reasonably be expected to be there.

But how now? in this zoned quest, does Ahab touch no land? does his crew drink air? Surely, he will stop for water. Nay. For a long time, now, the circus-running sun has raced within his fiery ring, and needs no sustenance but what’s in himself. So Ahab. Mark this, too, in the whaler. While other hulls are loaded down with alien stuff, to be transferred to foreign wharves; the world-wandering whale-ship carries no cargo but herself and crew, their weapons and their wants. She has a whole lake’s contents bottled in her ample hold. She is ballasted with utilities; not altogether with unusable pig-lead and kentledge. She carries years’ water in her. Clear old prime Nantucket water; which, when three years afloat, the Nantucketer, in the Pacific, prefers to drink before the brackish fluid, but yesterday rafted off in casks, from the Peruvian or Indian streams. Hence it is, that, while other ships may have gone to China from New York, and back again, touching at a score of ports, the whale-ship, in all that interval, may not have sighted one grain of soil; her crew having seen no man but floating seamen like themselves. So that did you carry them the news that another flood had come; they would only answer—“Well, boys, here’s the ark!”

But what is this? Does Ahab touch no land on this journey around the world? Does his crew drink air? Surely he will stop for water. No. For a long time now, the sun has raced around its fiery ring like a circus runner. It needs no nourishment but what it has within itself. So it is with Ahab. Notice this about a whaling ship, too. Other ships are loaded with goods from other lands, meant for delivery to foreign wharves. But the whale-ship wanders the world carrying no cargo but herself and her crew, their weapons and their supplies. In her spacious hold, she has a whole lake’s worth of water in bottles. Her ballast is made up of useful supplies, not just useless lead ingots and other dead weight. She carries years’ worth of water. It is clear, fine old Nantucket water. Even after three years at sea, a Nantucketer in the Pacific prefers it to brackish water from Peruvian or Indian streams, though that water was brought out in casks only yesterday. So other ships may sail from New York to China and back, stopping at twenty ports along the way. In that same time, the whale-ship may not have sighted a single grain of land. Her crew may have seen no one but sailors afloat like themselves. If you brought them news that another flood had come, they would only answer, “Well, boys, here’s the ark!”

Now, as many Sperm Whales had been captured off the western coast of Java, in the near vicinity of the Straits of Sunda; indeed, as most of the ground, roundabout, was generally recognised by the fishermen as an excellent spot for cruising; therefore, as the Pequod gained more and more upon Java Head, the look-outs were repeatedly hailed, and admonished to keep wide awake. But though the green palmy cliffs of the land soon loomed on the starboard bow, and with delighted nostrils the fresh cinnamon was snuffed in the air, yet not a single jet was descried. Almost renouncing all thought of falling in with any game hereabouts, the ship had well nigh entered the straits, when the customary cheering cry was heard from aloft, and ere long a spectacle of singular magnificence saluted us.

Many Sperm Whales had been captured off the western coast of Java, near the Straits of Sunda. Indeed, whalers generally recognized most of the surrounding waters as an excellent place to cruise for whales. So, as the Pequod drew closer to Java Head, the lookouts were repeatedly called upon to stay wide awake. Soon the green, palm-covered cliffs of the land came into view off the starboard bow. We breathed in the fresh scent of cinnamon with delight, but not a single whale spout was seen. We had almost given up hope of finding any whales here. The ship had nearly entered the straits when the familiar, cheering cry came from aloft. Before long, a magnificent and extraordinary sight greeted us.

But here be it premised, that owing to the unwearied activity with which of late they have been hunted over all four oceans, the Sperm Whales, instead of almost invariably sailing in small detached companies, as in former times, are now frequently met with in extensive herds, sometimes embracing so great a multitude, that it would almost seem as if numerous nations of them had sworn solemn league and covenant for mutual assistance and protection. To this aggregation of the Sperm Whale into such immense caravans, may be imputed the circumstance that even in the best cruising grounds, you may now sometimes sail for weeks and months together, without being greeted by a single spout; and then be suddenly saluted by what sometimes seems thousands on thousands.

But first, consider this: sperm whales have lately been hunted relentlessly across all four oceans. In the past, they almost always traveled in small, separate groups. Now they are often found in vast herds. Sometimes these herds are so large that they seem to contain many nations of whales. It is almost as if those nations had sworn a solemn pact to help and protect one another. These immense gatherings of sperm whales may explain why you can now sail for weeks or months without seeing a single spout, even in the best hunting grounds. Then, suddenly, you may be greeted by what seems like thousands upon thousands of whales.

Broad on both bows, at the distance of some two or three miles, and forming a great semicircle, embracing one half of the level horizon, a continuous chain of whale-jets were up-playing and sparkling in the noon-day air. Unlike the straight perpendicular twin-jets of the Right Whale, which, dividing at top, fall over in two branches, like the cleft drooping boughs of a willow, the single forward-slanting spout of the Sperm Whale presents a thick curled bush of white mist, continually rising and falling away to leeward.

Two or three miles away, a continuous chain of whale spouts sparkled in the midday air. Stretching out from both sides of the bow, they formed a great semicircle across half the flat horizon. The Right Whale sends up two straight, vertical jets. They divide at the top and fall in two branches, like the forked, drooping boughs of a willow. By contrast, the Sperm Whale has a single spout that slopes forward. It forms a thick, curling bush of white mist that continually rises and falls away downwind.

Seen from the Pequod’s deck, then, as she would rise on a high hill of the sea, this host of vapory spouts, individually curling up into the air, and beheld through a blending atmosphere of bluish haze, showed like the thousand cheerful chimneys of some dense metropolis, descried of a balmy autumnal morning, by some horseman on a height.

As the Pequod rose on a high wave, the many misty spouts could be seen from her deck. Each spout curled up into the air, and a bluish haze blended them together. They looked like the thousand cheerful chimneys of a crowded city, seen by a rider on a hill on a mild autumn morning.

As marching armies approaching an unfriendly defile in the mountains, accelerate their march, all eagerness to place that perilous passage in their rear, and once more expand in comparative security upon the plain; even so did this vast fleet of whales now seem hurrying forward through the straits; gradually contracting the wings of their semicircle, and swimming on, in one solid, but still crescentic centre.

When marching armies approach a hostile mountain pass, they quicken their pace. They are eager to leave the dangerous passage behind and spread out again on the comparatively safe plain. In the same way, this vast fleet of whales seemed to be hurrying through the straits. The whales gradually drew in the wings of their semicircle as they swam forward in one solid, crescent-shaped mass.

Crowding all sail the Pequod pressed after them; the harpooneers handling their weapons, and loudly cheering from the heads of their yet suspended boats. If the wind only held, little doubt had they, that chased through these Straits of Sunda, the vast host would only deploy into the Oriental seas to witness the capture of not a few of their number. And who could tell whether, in that congregated caravan, Moby Dick himself might not temporarily be swimming, like the worshipped white-elephant in the coronation procession of the Siamese! So with stun-sail piled on stun-sail, we sailed along, driving these leviathans before us; when, of a sudden, the voice of Tashtego was heard, loudly directing attention to something in our wake.

With all sails set, the Pequod pressed after the whales. The harpooneers handled their weapons and cheered loudly from the bows of their still suspended boats. If the wind held, they had little doubt the vast herd would be chased through the Straits of Sunda. Once the whales spread out into the Oriental seas, the men expected to capture quite a few of them. And who could tell whether Moby Dick himself might be swimming for a time in that gathered caravan? He would be like the worshipped white elephant in the coronation procession of the Siamese! So we sailed on with stun-sail piled on stun-sail, driving these leviathans before us. Then, suddenly, Tashtego called out loudly, drawing attention to something in our wake.

Corresponding to the crescent in our van, we beheld another in our rear. It seemed formed of detached white vapors, rising and falling something like the spouts of the whales; only they did not so completely come and go; for they constantly hovered, without finally disappearing. Levelling his glass at this sight, Ahab quickly revolved in his pivot-hole, crying, “Aloft there, and rig whips and buckets to wet the sails;—Malays, sir, and after us!”

We saw another crescent behind us, matching the one ahead. It seemed to be made of separate patches of white vapor, rising and falling somewhat like the whales’ spouts. But unlike the spouts, the patches did not completely come and go. They kept hovering and never disappeared entirely. Ahab aimed his telescope at the sight, then quickly turned in his pivot hole and cried, “Up there, rig whips and buckets to wet the sails! Malays, sir, and they’re after us!”

As if too long lurking behind the headlands, till the Pequod should fairly have entered the straits, these rascally Asiatics were now in hot pursuit, to make up for their over-cautious delay. But when the swift Pequod, with a fresh leading wind, was herself in hot chase; how very kind of these tawny philanthropists to assist in speeding her on to her own chosen pursuit,—mere riding-whips and rowels to her, that they were. As with glass under arm, Ahab to-and-fro paced the deck; in his forward turn beholding the monsters he chased, and in the after one the bloodthirsty pirates chasing him; some such fancy as the above seemed his. And when he glanced upon the green walls of the watery defile in which the ship was then sailing, and bethought him that through that gate lay the route to his vengeance, and beheld, how that through that same gate he was now both chasing and being chased to his deadly end; and not only that, but a herd of remorseless wild pirates and inhuman atheistical devils were infernally cheering him on with their curses;—when all these conceits had passed through his brain, Ahab’s brow was left gaunt and ribbed, like the black sand beach after some stormy tide has been gnawing it, without being able to drag the firm thing from its place.

As if they had lurked too long behind the headlands, waiting for the Pequod to enter the straits, these villainous Asiatics were now in hot pursuit. They were making up for their overcautious delay. But the swift Pequod, with a fresh wind helping her along, was herself in hot pursuit. How kind of these tawny philanthropists to help speed her toward the quarry she had chosen. They were nothing more than riding whips and spurs to her. Ahab paced back and forth on deck with his spyglass under his arm. When he turned forward, he saw the monsters he was chasing. When he turned toward the stern, he saw the bloodthirsty pirates chasing him. Some such thought as this seemed to be on his mind. Ahab glanced at the green walls of the watery passage through which the ship was sailing. He remembered that the route to his vengeance lay through that gate. He saw that, through the same gate, he was now both chasing and being chased toward his deadly end. And not only that, a herd of merciless wild pirates and inhuman, godless devils were cheering him on with hellish curses. After all these thoughts had passed through his mind, Ahab’s brow was gaunt and furrowed. It was like a black sand beach after a stormy tide has gnawed at it without being able to tear it from its place.

But thoughts like these troubled very few of the reckless crew; and when, after steadily dropping and dropping the pirates astern, the Pequod at last shot by the vivid green Cockatoo Point on the Sumatra side, emerging at last upon the broad waters beyond; then, the harpooneers seemed more to grieve that the swift whales had been gaining upon the ship, than to rejoice that the ship had so victoriously gained upon the Malays. But still driving on in the wake of the whales, at length they seemed abating their speed; gradually the ship neared them; and the wind now dying away, word was passed to spring to the boats. But no sooner did the herd, by some presumed wonderful instinct of the Sperm Whale, become notified of the three keels that were after them,—though as yet a mile in their rear,—than they rallied again, and forming in close ranks and battalions, so that their spouts all looked like flashing lines of stacked bayonets, moved on with redoubled velocity.

But thoughts like these troubled very few of the reckless crew. The Pequod steadily left the pirates farther and farther behind. At last, the ship sped past the vivid green Cockatoo Point on the Sumatra side and emerged into the broad waters beyond. The harpooneers seemed more upset that the swift whales had gained on the ship than glad that the ship had so victoriously outpaced the Malays. But the ship kept driving on after the whales, and at last the whales seemed to slow down. The ship gradually drew nearer, and as the wind died away, the order came to launch the boats. But somehow, perhaps through the Sperm Whale’s remarkable instinct, the herd sensed the three boats pursuing them, though still a mile behind. The whales immediately rallied and formed close ranks and battalions. Their spouts all looked like flashing lines of stacked bayonets as the whales sped on at twice their former speed.

Stripped to our shirts and drawers, we sprang to the white-ash, and after several hours’ pulling were almost disposed to renounce the chase, when a general pausing commotion among the whales gave animating token that they were now at last under the influence of that strange perplexity of inert irresolution, which, when the fishermen perceive it in the whale, they say he is gallied. The compact martial columns in which they had been hitherto rapidly and steadily swimming, were now broken up in one measureless rout; and like King Porus’ elephants in the Indian battle with Alexander, they seemed going mad with consternation. In all directions expanding in vast irregular circles, and aimlessly swimming hither and thither, by their short thick spoutings, they plainly betrayed their distraction of panic. This was still more strangely evinced by those of their number, who, completely paralysed as it were, helplessly floated like water-logged dismantled ships on the sea. Had these Leviathans been but a flock of simple sheep, pursued over the pasture by three fierce wolves, they could not possibly have evinced such excessive dismay. But this occasional timidity is characteristic of almost all herding creatures. Though banding together in tens of thousands, the lion-maned buffaloes of the West have fled before a solitary horseman. Witness, too, all human beings, how when herded together in the sheepfold of a theatre’s pit, they will, at the slightest alarm of fire, rush helter-skelter for the outlets, crowding, trampling, jamming, and remorselessly dashing each other to death. Best, therefore, withhold any amazement at the strangely gallied whales before us, for there is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.

Stripped to our shirts and drawers, we sprang to the white ash oars. After several hours of rowing, we were almost ready to give up the chase. Then a general commotion broke out among the whales, and they paused. This encouraging sign showed that they were finally overcome by a strange confusion, unable to decide or act. When fishermen see a whale in this state, they say it is gallied. The whales had been swimming swiftly and steadily in tight, military columns. Now their ranks broke apart in a vast, chaotic rout. Like King Porus’ elephants in the Indian battle with Alexander, they seemed to go mad with fear. They spread out in vast, irregular circles, swimming aimlessly this way and that. Their short, thick spouts plainly revealed their panic and confusion. Some showed their fear even more strangely. They floated helplessly, as if completely paralyzed, like waterlogged ships stripped of their gear. If these Leviathans had been a flock of simple sheep chased across a pasture by three fierce wolves, they could not have shown greater terror. But such occasional timidity is typical of almost all herding creatures. Though gathered in tens of thousands, the lion-maned buffaloes of the West have fled from a single horseman. Consider, too, all human beings. When crowded together like sheep in a theater’s pit, they will rush wildly for the exits at the slightest alarm of fire. They crowd, trample, and crush one another, mercilessly dashing each other to death. So we had better not be amazed at the strangely gallied whales before us. There is no folly among the beasts of the earth that is not infinitely surpassed by the madness of men.

Though many of the whales, as has been said, were in violent motion, yet it is to be observed that as a whole the herd neither advanced nor retreated, but collectively remained in one place. As is customary in those cases, the boats at once separated, each making for some one lone whale on the outskirts of the shoal. In about three minutes’ time, Queequeg’s harpoon was flung; the stricken fish darted blinding spray in our faces, and then running away with us like light, steered straight for the heart of the herd. Though such a movement on the part of the whale struck under such circumstances, is in no wise unprecedented; and indeed is almost always more or less anticipated; yet does it present one of the more perilous vicissitudes of the fishery. For as the swift monster drags you deeper and deeper into the frantic shoal, you bid adieu to circumspect life and only exist in a delirious throb.

Though many of the whales were thrashing violently, as mentioned earlier, the herd as a whole neither advanced nor retreated. Together, the whales stayed in one place. As was customary in such cases, the boats immediately separated. Each headed for a lone whale at the edge of the herd. About three minutes later, Queequeg threw his harpoon. The wounded whale sent blinding spray into our faces. Then it raced away, dragging us along at lightning speed, straight into the heart of the herd. A whale struck under such circumstances had done this before. Indeed, the whalers almost always expected it to some degree. Yet it was still one of the more dangerous turns a hunt could take. As the swift monster drags you deeper and deeper into the frantic herd, you say goodbye to a life of caution. You exist only in a delirious throb.

As, blind and deaf, the whale plunged forward, as if by sheer power of speed to rid himself of the iron leech that had fastened to him; as we thus tore a white gash in the sea, on all sides menaced as we flew, by the crazed creatures to and fro rushing about us; our beset boat was like a ship mobbed by ice-isles in a tempest, and striving to steer through their complicated channels and straits, knowing not at what moment it may be locked in and crushed.

Blind and deaf, the whale plunged forward, as if sheer speed could shake off the iron leech fastened to him. As we tore a white gash through the sea, frantic creatures rushed back and forth around us, threatening us on all sides. Our besieged boat was like a ship surrounded by ice islands in a storm. The ship struggles to steer through their tangled channels and straits, never knowing when it might be trapped and crushed.

But not a bit daunted, Queequeg steered us manfully; now sheering off from this monster directly across our route in advance; now edging away from that, whose colossal flukes were suspended overhead, while all the time, Starbuck stood up in the bows, lance in hand, pricking out of our way whatever whales he could reach by short darts, for there was no time to make long ones. Nor were the oarsmen quite idle, though their wonted duty was now altogether dispensed with. They chiefly attended to the shouting part of the business. “Out of the way, Commodore!” cried one, to a great dromedary that of a sudden rose bodily to the surface, and for an instant threatened to swamp us. “Hard down with your tail, there!” cried a second to another, which, close to our gunwale, seemed calmly cooling himself with his own fan-like extremity.

But Queequeg was not daunted at all. He steered us bravely, now veering away from a monster directly ahead in our path. Then he would edge away from another whose enormous tail flukes hung overhead. All the while, Starbuck stood in the bow with a lance in his hand. He prodded aside every whale he could reach with short jabs, since there was no time for longer ones. The oarsmen were not entirely idle either, though they no longer had to perform their usual duty. They mainly took care of the shouting. “Out of the way, Commodore!” one cried to a great dromedary that suddenly rose bodily to the surface. For an instant, it threatened to swamp us. “Keep your tail down there!” cried a second oarsman to another whale. Close beside our gunwale, it seemed to be calmly cooling itself with its own fanlike tail.

All whaleboats carry certain curious contrivances, originally invented by the Nantucket Indians, called druggs. Two thick squares of wood of equal size are stoutly clenched together, so that they cross each other’s grain at right angles; a line of considerable length is then attached to the middle of this block, and the other end of the line being looped, it can in a moment be fastened to a harpoon. It is chiefly among gallied whales that this drugg is used. For then, more whales are close round you than you can possibly chase at one time. But sperm whales are not every day encountered; while you may, then, you must kill all you can. And if you cannot kill them all at once, you must wing them, so that they can be afterwards killed at your leisure. Hence it is, that at times like these the drugg, comes into requisition. Our boat was furnished with three of them. The first and second were successfully darted, and we saw the whales staggeringly running off, fettered by the enormous sidelong resistance of the towing drugg. They were cramped like malefactors with the chain and ball. But upon flinging the third, in the act of tossing overboard the clumsy wooden block, it caught under one of the seats of the boat, and in an instant tore it out and carried it away, dropping the oarsman in the boat’s bottom as the seat slid from under him. On both sides the sea came in at the wounded planks, but we stuffed two or three drawers and shirts in, and so stopped the leaks for the time.

All whaleboats carry curious devices called druggs, originally invented by the Nantucket Indians. Two thick, equally sized squares of wood are firmly fastened together, with their grains crossing at right angles. A fairly long line is attached to the middle of this block. The other end of the line has a loop, so it can be fastened to a harpoon in an instant. The drugg is used chiefly among frightened whales. At such times, more whales are close around you than you can possibly chase at once. But sperm whales are not encountered every day, so you must kill all you can while you can. If you cannot kill them all at once, you must slow them down so you can kill them later, at your leisure. That is why the drugg is used at times like these. Our boat had three druggs. The first two were successfully thrown, and we saw the whales struggling away. The enormous sideways drag of the blocks they towed held them back. They were hindered like criminals with a ball and chain. But when we threw the third harpoon and tossed its clumsy wooden block overboard, the block caught under a seat. In an instant, it tore the seat out and carried it away. The oarsman fell into the bottom of the boat as the seat slid out from under him. Water came in through the damaged planks on both sides. But we stuffed two or three pairs of drawers and shirts into the gaps, stopping the leaks for the time being.

It had been next to impossible to dart these drugged-harpoons, were it not that as we advanced into the herd, our whale’s way greatly diminished; moreover, that as we went still further and further from the circumference of commotion, the direful disorders seemed waning. So that when at last the jerking harpoon drew out, and the towing whale sideways vanished; then, with the tapering force of his parting momentum, we glided between two whales into the innermost heart of the shoal, as if from some mountain torrent we had slid into a serene valley lake. Here the storms in the roaring glens between the outermost whales, were heard but not felt. In this central expanse the sea presented that smooth satin-like surface, called a sleek, produced by the subtle moisture thrown off by the whale in his more quiet moods. Yes, we were now in that enchanted calm which they say lurks at the heart of every commotion. And still in the distracted distance we beheld the tumults of the outer concentric circles, and saw successive pods of whales, eight or ten in each, swiftly going round and round, like multiplied spans of horses in a ring; and so closely shoulder to shoulder, that a Titanic circus-rider might easily have over-arched the middle ones, and so have gone round on their backs. Owing to the density of the crowd of reposing whales, more immediately surrounding the embayed axis of the herd, no possible chance of escape was at present afforded us. We must watch for a breach in the living wall that hemmed us in; the wall that had only admitted us in order to shut us up. Keeping at the centre of the lake, we were occasionally visited by small tame cows and calves; the women and children of this routed host.

It would have been almost impossible to throw these drugged harpoons, except that our whale slowed greatly as we entered the herd. And as we moved farther from the turmoil at the edge, the terrible confusion seemed to die down. At last, the jerking harpoon pulled free, and the whale towing us disappeared to the side. As the last force of his movement carried us forward, we glided between two whales into the very heart of the shoal. It was as if we had slipped from a mountain torrent into a peaceful lake in a valley. Here we could hear, but not feel, the storms in the roaring passages between the outermost whales. In this central expanse, the sea had a smooth, satin-like surface called a sleek. This was caused by the fine moisture a whale gives off when it is calmer. Yes, we were now in that enchanted calm said to lie at the heart of every commotion. Still, in the troubled distance, we saw the turmoil of the outer circles. Pod after pod, each with eight or ten whales, raced round and round like teams of horses in a ring. They were so close, shoulder to shoulder, that a gigantic circus rider could easily have straddled the middle whales and ridden around on their backs. The resting whales were crowded so densely around the sheltered center of the herd that we had no chance of escape just then. We had to watch for a gap in the living wall around us. The wall had let us in only to shut us up. As we stayed at the center of the lake, small, tame cows and calves sometimes came to visit us. They were the women and children of this scattered host.

Now, inclusive of the occasional wide intervals between the revolving outer circles, and inclusive of the spaces between the various pods in any one of those circles, the entire area at this juncture, embraced by the whole multitude, must have contained at least two or three square miles. At any rate—though indeed such a test at such a time might be deceptive—spoutings might be discovered from our low boat that seemed playing up almost from the rim of the horizon. I mention this circumstance, because, as if the cows and calves had been purposely locked up in this innermost fold; and as if the wide extent of the herd had hitherto prevented them from learning the precise cause of its stopping; or, possibly, being so young, unsophisticated, and every way innocent and inexperienced; however it may have been, these smaller whales—now and then visiting our becalmed boat from the margin of the lake—evinced a wondrous fearlessness and confidence, or else a still becharmed panic which it was impossible not to marvel at. Like household dogs they came snuffling round us, right up to our gunwales, and touching them; till it almost seemed that some spell had suddenly domesticated them. Queequeg patted their foreheads; Starbuck scratched their backs with his lance; but fearful of the consequences, for the time refrained from darting it.

At this point, the whole multitude must have covered at least two or three square miles. This included the occasional wide gaps between the circling outer rings and the spaces between pods within each ring. In any case, we could see spouts from our low boat that seemed to rise almost at the edge of the horizon. Though, at such a time, appearances might be deceptive. I mention this because the cows and calves seemed to have been deliberately shut inside this innermost enclosure. And perhaps the herd was so vast that they had not yet learned exactly why it had stopped. Or perhaps they were simply so young, unsuspecting, innocent, and inexperienced. Whatever the reason, these smaller whales now and then came from the edge of the lake to visit our motionless boat. They showed a remarkable fearlessness and trust, or else a dazed panic. Either way, it was impossible not to marvel at them. Like household dogs, they came sniffing around us, right up to the sides of our boat, and touched them. It almost seemed that some spell had suddenly made them tame. Queequeg patted their foreheads, and Starbuck scratched their backs with his lance. But, fearing the consequences, he held back from throwing it for the time being.

But far beneath this wondrous world upon the surface, another and still stranger world met our eyes as we gazed over the side. For, suspended in those watery vaults, floated the forms of the nursing mothers of the whales, and those that by their enormous girth seemed shortly to become mothers. The lake, as I have hinted, was to a considerable depth exceedingly transparent; and as human infants while suckling will calmly and fixedly gaze away from the breast, as if leading two different lives at the time; and while yet drawing mortal nourishment, be still spiritually feasting upon some unearthly reminiscence;—even so did the young of these whales seem looking up towards us, but not at us, as if we were but a bit of Gulfweed in their new-born sight. Floating on their sides, the mothers also seemed quietly eyeing us. One of these little infants, that from certain queer tokens seemed hardly a day old, might have measured some fourteen feet in length, and some six feet in girth. He was a little frisky; though as yet his body seemed scarce yet recovered from that irksome position it had so lately occupied in the maternal reticule; where, tail to head, and all ready for the final spring, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar’s bow. The delicate side-fins, and the palms of his flukes, still freshly retained the plaited crumpled appearance of a baby’s ears newly arrived from foreign parts.

But far beneath this wondrous world on the surface, another, even stranger world met our eyes as we looked over the side. Suspended in those watery depths were nursing mother whales and others whose enormous girth suggested they would soon become mothers. As I have hinted, the lake was extraordinarily clear to a considerable depth. Human infants, while nursing, will gaze calmly and steadily away from the breast, as if living two different lives at once. While still drawing nourishment for their bodies, they seem to be spiritually feasting on some unearthly memory. In the same way, the young whales seemed to look up toward us, but not at us. It was as if we were just a bit of Gulfweed to their newborn eyes. Floating on their sides, the mothers also seemed to be watching us quietly. One of these little infants seemed, from certain odd signs, to be hardly a day old. He might have measured some fourteen feet long and some six feet around. He was a little frisky, though his body seemed hardly to have recovered from its recently cramped position in the womb. There, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar’s bow, tail to head, ready for the final spring. His delicate side fins and the broad surfaces of his tail flukes still had the freshly folded, crumpled look of a baby’s ears newly arrived from foreign parts.

“Line! line!” cried Queequeg, looking over the gunwale; “him fast! him fast!—Who line him! Who struck?—Two whale; one big, one little!”

“Line! Line!” cried Queequeg, looking over the side of the boat. “It’s caught! It’s caught! Who has the line? Who struck it? Two whales, one big, one little!”

“What ails ye, man?” cried Starbuck.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” cried Starbuck.

“Look-e here,” said Queequeg, pointing down.

“Look here,” said Queequeg, pointing down.

As when the stricken whale, that from the tub has reeled out hundreds of fathoms of rope; as, after deep sounding, he floats up again, and shows the slackened curling line buoyantly rising and spiralling towards the air; so now, Starbuck saw long coils of the umbilical cord of Madame Leviathan, by which the young cub seemed still tethered to its dam. Not seldom in the rapid vicissitudes of the chase, this natural line, with the maternal end loose, becomes entangled with the hempen one, so that the cub is thereby trapped. Some of the subtlest secrets of the seas seemed divulged to us in this enchanted pond. We saw young Leviathan amours in the deep.*

A wounded whale may pull hundreds of fathoms of rope from the tub as it dives deep. When it floats up again, the slack line rises and curls toward the surface. In much the same way, Starbuck now saw long coils of Madame Leviathan’s umbilical cord. The young cub seemed still tethered to its mother by the cord. In the rapid twists and turns of the chase, the maternal end of this natural line often comes loose and tangles with the hemp rope. The cub is then trapped. In this enchanted pond, some of the sea’s most subtle secrets seemed to be revealed to us. We saw young Leviathans courting in the deep.*

*The sperm whale, as with all other species of the Leviathan, but unlike most other fish, breeds indifferently at all seasons; after a gestation which may probably be set down at nine months, producing but one at a time; though in some few known instances giving birth to an Esau and Jacob:—a contingency provided for in suckling by two teats, curiously situated, one on each side of the anus; but the breasts themselves extend upwards from that. When by chance these precious parts in a nursing whale are cut by the hunter’s lance, the mother’s pouring milk and blood rivallingly discolour the sea for rods. The milk is very sweet and rich; it has been tasted by man; it might do well with strawberries. When overflowing with mutual esteem, the whales salute more hominum.

*The sperm whale breeds in all seasons, as do all other species of Leviathan, but unlike most other fish. Its gestation period may probably be reckoned at nine months. It gives birth to only one calf at a time, though in a few known cases it has given birth to an Esau and Jacob. The whale has two teats to nurse them in such cases, curiously placed on either side of the anus. The breasts themselves extend upward from there. When a hunter’s lance happens to cut these precious parts of a nursing whale, the mother’s milk and blood pour out, competing to color the sea for rods around. The milk is very sweet and rich. People have tasted it, and it might go well with strawberries. When overflowing with mutual esteem, the whales greet each other more hominum.

And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre freely and fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely revelled in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.

And so, though surrounded by circle after circle of panic and terror, these mysterious creatures at the center freely and fearlessly went about all their peaceful activities. They even calmly reveled in play and delight. In the same way, amid the storm-tossed Atlantic of my being, I too always enjoy a silent calm at my center. And while massive planets of unending sorrow revolve around me, deep down and far inland I still bathe in the eternal gentleness of joy.

Meanwhile, as we thus lay entranced, the occasional sudden frantic spectacles in the distance evinced the activity of the other boats, still engaged in drugging the whales on the frontier of the host; or possibly carrying on the war within the first circle, where abundance of room and some convenient retreats were afforded them. But the sight of the enraged drugged whales now and then blindly darting to and fro across the circles, was nothing to what at last met our eyes. It is sometimes the custom when fast to a whale more than commonly powerful and alert, to seek to hamstring him, as it were, by sundering or maiming his gigantic tail-tendon. It is done by darting a short-handled cutting-spade, to which is attached a rope for hauling it back again. A whale wounded (as we afterwards learned) in this part, but not effectually, as it seemed, had broken away from the boat, carrying along with him half of the harpoon line; and in the extraordinary agony of the wound, he was now dashing among the revolving circles like the lone mounted desperado Arnold, at the battle of Saratoga, carrying dismay wherever he went.

Meanwhile, as we lay entranced, sudden, frantic scenes occasionally unfolded in the distance. They showed that the other boats were still busy drugging whales at the edge of the herd. Or perhaps they were carrying on the battle inside the first circle, where they had plenty of room and convenient places to retreat. Now and then, the enraged, drugged whales dashed blindly back and forth across the circles. But that sight was nothing compared with what we finally saw. When a boat is fast to an unusually powerful and alert whale, the crew sometimes tries to hamstring him, so to speak, by cutting or injuring his enormous tail tendon. They throw a short-handled cutting-spade with a rope attached, so they can haul it back. As we later learned, one whale had been wounded in this part, but apparently not effectively. He had broken away from the boat, taking half the harpoon line with him. Now, in the extraordinary agony of his wound, he was dashing among the revolving circles. Like the lone mounted desperado Arnold at the battle of Saratoga, he spread dismay wherever he went.

But agonizing as was the wound of this whale, and an appalling spectacle enough, any way; yet the peculiar horror with which he seemed to inspire the rest of the herd, was owing to a cause which at first the intervening distance obscured from us. But at length we perceived that by one of the unimaginable accidents of the fishery, this whale had become entangled in the harpoon-line that he towed; he had also run away with the cutting-spade in him; and while the free end of the rope attached to that weapon, had permanently caught in the coils of the harpoon-line round his tail, the cutting-spade itself had worked loose from his flesh. So that tormented to madness, he was now churning through the water, violently flailing with his flexible tail, and tossing the keen spade about him, wounding and murdering his own comrades.

The whale’s wound was agonizing, and he was an appalling sight in any case. But something else seemed to fill the rest of the herd with peculiar horror. At first, we were too far away to see what it was. At last we saw that, through one of the unimaginable accidents of whaling, the whale had become entangled in the harpoon line he was towing. He had also escaped with the cutting spade lodged in his flesh. The free end of the rope attached to the spade had become firmly caught in the coils of harpoon line around his tail, while the spade itself had come loose from his flesh. Driven mad by torment, the whale was now churning through the water, violently flailing his flexible tail and swinging the sharp spade around him, wounding and killing his own companions.

This terrific object seemed to recall the whole herd from their stationary fright. First, the whales forming the margin of our lake began to crowd a little, and tumble against each other, as if lifted by half spent billows from afar; then the lake itself began faintly to heave and swell; the submarine bridal-chambers and nurseries vanished; in more and more contracting orbits the whales in the more central circles began to swim in thickening clusters. Yes, the long calm was departing. A low advancing hum was soon heard; and then like to the tumultuous masses of block-ice when the great river Hudson breaks up in Spring, the entire host of whales came tumbling upon their inner centre, as if to pile themselves up in one common mountain. Instantly Starbuck and Queequeg changed places; Starbuck taking the stern.

This terrifying sight seemed to shake the whole herd out of its frozen fear. First, the whales along the edge of our lake began to crowd together and bump against one another. They moved as if lifted by waves that had traveled far and nearly lost their force. Then the lake itself began to heave and swell slightly. The underwater bridal chambers and nurseries vanished. The whales in the inner circles began to swim in tighter and tighter circles, gathering in denser clusters. Yes, the long calm was ending. Soon a low, growing hum could be heard. Then the entire herd of whales came tumbling toward the center, as if to pile themselves into one great mountain. They were like the churning masses of block ice when the great Hudson River breaks up in spring. Instantly, Starbuck and Queequeg changed places, with Starbuck taking the stern.

“Oars! Oars!” he intensely whispered, seizing the helm—“gripe your oars, and clutch your souls, now! My God, men, stand by! Shove him off, you Queequeg—the whale there!—prick him!—hit him! Stand up—stand up, and stay so! Spring, men—pull, men; never mind their backs—scrape them!—scrape away!”

“Oars! Oars!” he whispered fiercely, grabbing the helm. “Grip your oars, and hold on to your souls now! My God, men, be ready! Queequeg, push him away, the whale there! Stab him! Hit him! Stand up, and stay standing! Move, men, pull! Never mind their backs. Scrape them! Keep scraping!”

The boat was now all but jammed between two vast black bulks, leaving a narrow Dardanelles between their long lengths. But by desperate endeavor we at last shot into a temporary opening; then giving way rapidly, and at the same time earnestly watching for another outlet. After many similar hair-breadth escapes, we at last swiftly glided into what had just been one of the outer circles, but now crossed by random whales, all violently making for one centre. This lucky salvation was cheaply purchased by the loss of Queequeg’s hat, who, while standing in the bows to prick the fugitive whales, had his hat taken clean from his head by the air-eddy made by the sudden tossing of a pair of broad flukes close by.

The boat was now almost jammed between two vast black bodies, with a narrow Dardanelles between them. But with desperate effort, we finally shot through a temporary opening. Then we rowed hard, watching closely for another way out. After many more narrow escapes, we finally glided swiftly into what had just been one of the outer circles. Whales were now crossing it at random, all charging violently toward one center. We were lucky to escape with only the loss of Queequeg’s hat. He was standing in the bow, jabbing at the fleeing whales, when a pair of broad tail flukes suddenly rose nearby. The rush of air swept his hat clean off his head.

Riotous and disordered as the universal commotion now was, it soon resolved itself into what seemed a systematic movement; for having clumped together at last in one dense body, they then renewed their onward flight with augmented fleetness. Further pursuit was useless; but the boats still lingered in their wake to pick up what drugged whales might be dropped astern, and likewise to secure one which Flask had killed and waifed. The waif is a pennoned pole, two or three of which are carried by every boat; and which, when additional game is at hand, are inserted upright into the floating body of a dead whale, both to mark its place on the sea, and also as token of prior possession, should the boats of any other ship draw near.

Though the whole commotion was wild and chaotic, it soon seemed to settle into an organized movement. The whales finally gathered into one dense mass, then resumed their flight at even greater speed. Further pursuit was useless, but the boats stayed behind the herd to pick up any drugged whales that fell behind. They also stayed to secure one whale that Flask had killed and marked with a waif. A waif is a pole with a small flag, and every boat carries two or three. When more whales are within reach, the crew plants a waif upright in the floating body of a dead whale. The waif marks its place at sea and shows that the whale has already been claimed, should another ship’s boats approach.

The result of this lowering was somewhat illustrative of that sagacious saying in the Fishery,—the more whales the less fish. Of all the drugged whales only one was captured. The rest contrived to escape for the time, but only to be taken, as will hereafter be seen, by some other craft than the Pequod.

The result of lowering the boats somewhat proved a wise saying among whalers: the more whales, the less fish. Of all the drugged whales, only one was captured. The rest managed to escape for the time being. But as we shall see, other ships caught them later, not the Pequod.