The Castaway

It was but some few days after encountering the Frenchman, that a most significant event befell the most insignificant of the Pequod’s crew; an event most lamentable; and which ended in providing the sometimes madly merry and predestinated craft with a living and ever accompanying prophecy of whatever shattered sequel might prove her own.

Only a few days after the Pequod encountered the Frenchman, a most significant event befell the least significant member of her crew. It was a most tragic event. It left the fated ship, sometimes wildly merry, with a living, constant prophecy of whatever shattered fate might await her.

Now, in the whale ship, it is not every one that goes in the boats. Some few hands are reserved called ship-keepers, whose province it is to work the vessel while the boats are pursuing the whale. As a general thing, these ship-keepers are as hardy fellows as the men comprising the boats’ crews. But if there happen to be an unduly slender, clumsy, or timorous wight in the ship, that wight is certain to be made a ship-keeper. It was so in the Pequod with the little negro Pippin by nick-name, Pip by abbreviation. Poor Pip! ye have heard of him before; ye must remember his tambourine on that dramatic midnight, so gloomy-jolly.

On a whale ship, not everyone goes out in the boats. A few hands, called ship-keepers, stay behind to work the vessel while the boats pursue the whale. Generally, these ship-keepers are as tough as the men in the boat crews. But if a man on board happens to be unusually slender, clumsy, or timid, he is sure to be made a ship-keeper. So it was on the Pequod with the little Black boy nicknamed Pippin, or Pip for short. Poor Pip! You have heard of him before. You must remember his tambourine on that dramatic midnight, so gloomy and jolly.

In outer aspect, Pip and Dough-Boy made a match, like a black pony and a white one, of equal developments, though of dissimilar colour, driven in one eccentric span. But while hapless Dough-Boy was by nature dull and torpid in his intellects, Pip, though over tender-hearted, was at bottom very bright, with that pleasant, genial, jolly brightness peculiar to his tribe; a tribe, which ever enjoy all holidays and festivities with finer, freer relish than any other race. For blacks, the year’s calendar should show naught but three hundred and sixty-five Fourth of Julys and New Year’s Days. Nor smile so, while I write that this little black was brilliant, for even blackness has its brilliancy; behold yon lustrous ebony, panelled in king’s cabinets. But Pip loved life, and all life’s peaceable securities; so that the panic-striking business in which he had somehow unaccountably become entrapped, had most sadly blurred his brightness; though, as ere long will be seen, what was thus temporarily subdued in him, in the end was destined to be luridly illumined by strange wild fires, that fictitiously showed him off to ten times the natural lustre with which in his native Tolland County in Connecticut, he had once enlivened many a fiddler’s frolic on the green; and at melodious even-tide, with his gay ha-ha! had turned the round horizon into one star-belled tambourine. So, though in the clear air of day, suspended against a blue-veined neck, the pure-watered diamond drop will healthful glow; yet, when the cunning jeweller would show you the diamond in its most impressive lustre, he lays it against a gloomy ground, and then lights it up, not by the sun, but by some unnatural gases. Then come out those fiery effulgences, infernally superb; then the evil-blazing diamond, once the divinest symbol of the crystal skies, looks like some crown-jewel stolen from the King of Hell. But let us to the story.

In appearance, Pip and Dough-Boy made a matched pair. They were like a black pony and a white pony, equally developed but different in color, harnessed together as an odd team. But the unfortunate Dough-Boy was naturally dull and slow-witted. Pip, though too tenderhearted, was at heart very bright. He had the pleasant, warm, cheerful brightness peculiar to his people. They enjoy all holidays and festivities with a finer, freer delight than any other race. For Black people, the calendar should show nothing but three hundred and sixty-five Fourth of Julys and New Year’s Days. And do not smile when I say that this little Black boy was brilliant. Even blackness has its brilliance. Look at the gleaming ebony used to panel kings’ cabinets. But Pip loved life and all its peaceful securities. Somehow, he had become trapped in a frightening business, and it had sadly dimmed his brightness. Yet, as we shall soon see, his brightness was only temporarily subdued. In the end, strange wild fires would light it up with a lurid glow. They would make him appear ten times brighter than he naturally was. Back in his native Tolland County in Connecticut, his natural brightness had enlivened many a fiddler’s frolic on the green. On melodious evenings, his merry ha-ha! had turned the whole horizon into a tambourine with bells of stars. A flawless diamond pendant glows with a healthy light in the clear daytime air, hanging against a blue-veined neck. Yet a clever jeweler displays a diamond against a dark background to show it at its most brilliant. Then he lights it not with sunlight, but with artificial gaslight. Its fiery radiance comes out, magnificent as hellfire. The wickedly blazing diamond, once the most divine symbol of the crystal skies, looks like a crown jewel stolen from the King of Hell. But let us return to the story.

It came to pass, that in the ambergris affair Stubb’s after-oarsman chanced so to sprain his hand, as for a time to become quite maimed; and, temporarily, Pip was put into his place.

During the ambergris affair, Stubb’s after-oarsman happened to sprain his hand so badly that he was disabled for a time. Pip temporarily took his place.

The first time Stubb lowered with him, Pip evinced much nervousness; but happily, for that time, escaped close contact with the whale; and therefore came off not altogether discreditably; though Stubb observing him, took care, afterwards, to exhort him to cherish his courageousness to the utmost, for he might often find it needful.

The first time Pip went out in Stubb’s whaleboat, he was very nervous. Fortunately, he did not come close to the whale that time, so he did not do too badly. Still, Stubb had noticed Pip’s nervousness. Afterward, he urged Pip to hold on to all the courage he could, because he might often need it.

Now upon the second lowering, the boat paddled upon the whale; and as the fish received the darted iron, it gave its customary rap, which happened, in this instance, to be right under poor Pip’s seat. The involuntary consternation of the moment caused him to leap, paddle in hand, out of the boat; and in such a way, that part of the slack whale line coming against his chest, he breasted it overboard with him, so as to become entangled in it, when at last plumping into the water. That instant the stricken whale started on a fierce run, the line swiftly straightened; and presto! poor Pip came all foaming up to the chocks of the boat, remorselessly dragged there by the line, which had taken several turns around his chest and neck.

When the boat was lowered a second time, the crew paddled toward the whale. As the harpoon struck, the whale gave its usual rap, this time right under poor Pip’s seat. Instinctively terrified, Pip leaped out of the boat, paddle in hand. As he jumped, some of the slack whale line caught against his chest, and he carried it overboard with him. When he finally plunged into the water, he became tangled in the line. At that instant, the wounded whale started to run fiercely, and the line quickly pulled straight. And presto! Poor Pip came up foaming at the boat’s edge, dragged there mercilessly by the line, which had wrapped several times around his chest and neck.

Tashtego stood in the bows. He was full of the fire of the hunt. He hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching the boat-knife from its sheath, he suspended its sharp edge over the line, and turning towards Stubb, exclaimed interrogatively, “Cut?” Meantime Pip’s blue, choked face plainly looked, Do, for God’s sake! All passed in a flash. In less than half a minute, this entire thing happened.

Tashtego stood at the front of the boat, fired up by the hunt. He hated Pip for being a coward. He snatched the boat knife from its sheath and held its sharp edge over the line. Turning to Stubb, he asked, “Cut?” Meanwhile, Pip’s blue, choking face clearly seemed to say, Do, for God’s sake! It all happened in a flash. The whole thing took less than half a minute.

“Damn him, cut!” roared Stubb; and so the whale was lost and Pip was saved.

“Damn him, cut!” Stubb roared. So the whale was lost, and Pip was saved.

So soon as he recovered himself, the poor little negro was assailed by yells and execrations from the crew. Tranquilly permitting these irregular cursings to evaporate, Stubb then in a plain, business-like, but still half humorous manner, cursed Pip officially; and that done, unofficially gave him much wholesome advice. The substance was, Never jump from a boat, Pip, except—but all the rest was indefinite, as the soundest advice ever is. Now, in general, Stick to the boat, is your true motto in whaling; but cases will sometimes happen when Leap from the boat, is still better. Moreover, as if perceiving at last that if he should give undiluted conscientious advice to Pip, he would be leaving him too wide a margin to jump in for the future; Stubb suddenly dropped all advice, and concluded with a peremptory command, “Stick to the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I won’t pick you up if you jump; mind that. We can’t afford to lose whales by the likes of you; a whale would sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that in mind, and don’t jump any more.” Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted, that though man loved his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal, which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence.

As soon as he recovered, the poor little Black boy was met with yells and curses from the crew. Stubb calmly let the crew’s outbursts die down. Then he officially cursed Pip in a straightforward, businesslike, but still half-humorous way. After that, he unofficially gave Pip plenty of sound advice. The substance was: Never jump from a boat, Pip, except... But all the rest was vague, as the soundest advice always is. In whaling, Stick to the boat is generally the right motto. But sometimes Leap from the boat is even better. Then Stubb seemed to realize that completely honest advice would leave Pip too much room to jump in the future. So he suddenly stopped advising him and ended with a firm command. “Stick to the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I won’t pick you up if you jump. Remember that. We can’t afford to lose whales because of the likes of you. A whale would sell for thirty times what you would in Alabama, Pip. Bear that in mind, and don’t jump any more.” Perhaps Stubb was indirectly suggesting that, though people love their fellow humans, they are also driven to make money. That drive too often interferes with their kindness.

But we are all in the hands of the Gods; and Pip jumped again. It was under very similar circumstances to the first performance; but this time he did not breast out the line; and hence, when the whale started to run, Pip was left behind on the sea, like a hurried traveller’s trunk. Alas! Stubb was but too true to his word. It was a beautiful, bounteous, blue day; the spangled sea calm and cool, and flatly stretching away, all round, to the horizon, like gold-beater’s skin hammered out to the extremest. Bobbing up and down in that sea, Pip’s ebon head showed like a head of cloves. No boat-knife was lifted when he fell so rapidly astern. Stubb’s inexorable back was turned upon him; and the whale was winged. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless ocean was between Pip and Stubb. Out from the centre of the sea, poor Pip turned his crisp, curling, black head to the sun, another lonely castaway, though the loftiest and the brightest.

But we are all in the hands of the Gods, and Pip jumped again. The circumstances were much like the first time, but now he did not get tangled in the line. So when the whale began to run, Pip was left behind at sea, like a hurried traveler’s trunk. Alas! Stubb was only too true to his word. It was a beautiful, generous, blue day. The sparkling sea was calm and cool, stretching flat to the horizon in every direction, like goldbeater’s skin hammered as thin as possible. As Pip bobbed up and down in the sea, his black head looked like a head of cloves. No one lifted a boat knife as he fell rapidly behind. Stubb’s unyielding back was turned to him, and the whale was sped on its way. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless ocean lay between Pip and Stubb. There in the middle of the sea, poor Pip turned his tightly curled black head toward the sun, another lonely castaway, though the highest and brightest of all.

Now, in calm weather, to swim in the open ocean is as easy to the practised swimmer as to ride in a spring-carriage ashore. But the awful lonesomeness is intolerable. The intense concentration of self in the middle of such a heartless immensity, my God! who can tell it? Mark, how when sailors in a dead calm bathe in the open sea—mark how closely they hug their ship and only coast along her sides.

Now, in calm weather, swimming in the open ocean is as easy for a practiced swimmer as riding in a carriage on land. But the terrible loneliness is unbearable. You feel so intensely alone in the middle of that heartless vastness. My God, who can describe it? Notice how sailors bathe in the open sea when there is no wind. They stay close to their ship, swimming only along its sides.

But had Stubb really abandoned the poor little negro to his fate? No; he did not mean to, at least. Because there were two boats in his wake, and he supposed, no doubt, that they would of course come up to Pip very quickly, and pick him up; though, indeed, such considerations towards oarsmen jeopardized through their own timidity, is not always manifested by the hunters in all similar instances; and such instances not unfrequently occur; almost invariably in the fishery, a coward, so called, is marked with the same ruthless detestation peculiar to military navies and armies.

But had Stubb really abandoned poor little Pip, the Black boy, to his fate? No, at least he did not intend to. Two boats were following Stubb’s, and he no doubt assumed they would quickly reach Pip and pick him up. Hunters do not always show such concern for oarsmen endangered by their own fear, though. Such incidents are not uncommon. In whaling, a so-called coward is almost invariably treated with the same ruthless hatred found in military navies and armies.

But it so happened, that those boats, without seeing Pip, suddenly spying whales close to them on one side, turned, and gave chase; and Stubb’s boat was now so far away, and he and all his crew so intent upon his fish, that Pip’s ringed horizon began to expand around him miserably. By the merest chance the ship itself at last rescued him; but from that hour the little negro went about the deck an idiot; such, at least, they said he was. The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though. Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous, God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.

But the boats did not see Pip. Suddenly, they spotted whales close by on one side and turned to chase them. Stubb’s boat was now far away, and he and all his crew were intent on his whale. So the circle of Pip’s horizon began to widen miserably around him. At last, the ship itself rescued him by sheer chance. But from that hour, the young Black boy went about the deck an idiot. At least, that was what they said he was. The sea had mockingly kept his finite body afloat, but drowned the infinite part of his soul. Not drowned it entirely, though. Rather, it carried his soul down alive to wondrous depths. There, strange shapes from the undistorted primal world glided back and forth before his passive eyes. Wisdom, the miserly merman, showed him his hoarded treasures. Among the joyous, heartless, eternally youthful eternities, Pip saw countless coral insects, with God present in them all. Out of the vast waters, they raised the enormous spheres. He saw God’s foot on the pedal of the loom and said so. His shipmates therefore called him mad. So human insanity is heaven’s understanding. Wandering beyond all mortal reason, a person finally reaches that heavenly thought, which reason finds absurd and frantic. Then, whether in happiness or sorrow, that person feels unbound and indifferent, like his God.

For the rest, blame not Stubb too hardly. The thing is common in that fishery; and in the sequel of the narrative, it will then be seen what like abandonment befell myself.

Still, do not blame Stubb too harshly. Such things are common in whaling, and later in this story, you will see how I too was abandoned.