Moby Dick by Herman Melville (read this if txt) đ
- Author: Herman Melville
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Caught and twistedâcorkscrewed in the mazes of the line, loose harpoons and lances, with all their bristling barbs and points, came flashing and dripping up to the chocks in the bows of Ahabâs boat. Only one thing could be done. Seizing the boat-knife, he critically reached withinâthroughâand then, withoutâthe rays of steel; dragged in the line beyond, passed it, inboard, to the bowsman, and then, twice sundering the rope near the chocksâdropped the intercepted fagot of steel into the sea; and was all fast again. That instant, the White Whale made a sudden rush among the remaining tangles of the other lines; by so doing, irresistibly dragged the more involved boats of Stubb and Flask towards his flukes; dashed them together like two rolling husks on a surf-beaten beach, and then, diving down into the sea, disappeared in a boiling maelstrom, in which, for a space, the odorous cedar chips of the wrecks danced round and round, like the grated nutmeg in a swiftly stirred bowl of punch.
While the two crews were yet circling in the waters, reaching out after the revolving line-tubs, oars, and other floating furniture, while aslope little Flask bobbed up and down like an empty vial, twitching his legs upwards to escape the dreaded jaws of sharks; and Stubb was lustily singing out for some one to ladle him up; and while the old manâs lineânow partingâadmitted of his pulling into the creamy pool to rescue whom he could;â in that wild simultaneousness of a thousand concreted perils,â Ahabâs yet unstricken boat seemed drawn up towards Heaven by invisible wires,âas, arrow-like, shooting perpendicularly from the sea, the White Whale dashed his broad forehead against its bottom, and sent it turning over and over, into the air; till it fell againâ gunwale downwardsâand Ahab and his men struggled out from under it, like seals from a sea-side cave.
The first uprising momentum of the whaleâmodifying its direction as he struck the surfaceâinvoluntarily launched him along it, to a little distance from the centre of the destruction he had made; and with his back to it, he now lay for a moment slowly feeling with his flukes from side to side; and whenever a stray oar, bit of plank, the least chip or crumb of the boats touched his skin, his tail swiftly drew back, and came sideways smiting the sea. But soon, as if satisfied that his work for that time was done, he pushed his pleated forehead through the ocean, and trailing after him the intertangled lines, continued his leeward way at a travellerâs methodic pace.
As before, the attentive ship having descried the whole fight, again came bearing down to the rescue, and dropping a boat, picked up the floating mariners, tubs, oars, and whatever else could be caught at, and safely landed them on her decks. Some sprained shoulders, wrists, and ankles; livid contusions; wrenched harpoons and lances; inextricable intricacies of rope; shattered oars and planks; all these were there; but no fatal or even serious ill seemed to have befallen any one. As with Fedallah the day before, so Ahab was now found grimly clinging to his boatâs broken half, which afforded a comparatively easy float; nor did it so exhaust him as the previous dayâs mishap.
But when he was helped to the deck, all eyes were fastened upon him; as instead of standing by himself he still half-hung upon the shoulder of Starbuck, who had thus far been the foremost to assist him. His ivory leg had been snapped off, leaving but one short sharp splinter.
âAye, aye, Starbuck, âtis sweet to lean sometimes, be the leaner who he will; and would old Ahab had leaned oftener than he has.â
âThe ferrule has not stood, sir,â said the carpenter, now coming up; I put good work into that leg.â
âBut no bones broken, sir, I hope,â said Stubb with true concern.
âAye! and all splintered to pieces, Stubb!âdâye see it.â But even with a broken bone, old Ahab is untouched; and I account no living bone of mine one jot more me, than this dead one thatâs lost. Nor white whale, nor man, nor fiend, can so much as graze old Ahab in his own proper and inaccessible being. Can any lead touch yonder floor, any mast scrape yonder roof?â Aloft there! which way?â
âDead to leeward, sir.â
âUp helm, then; pile on the sail again, ship keepers! down the rest of the spare boats and rig themâMr. Starbuck away, and muster the boatâs crews.â
âLet me first help thee towards the bulwarks, sir.â
âOh, oh, oh! how this splinter gores me now! Accursed fate! that the unconquerable captain in the soul should have such a craven mate!â
âSir?â
âMy body, man, not thee. Give me something for a caneâthere, that shivered lance will do. Muster the men. Surely I have not seen him yet. By heaven it cannot be call them all.â
The old manâs hinted thought was true. Upon mustering the company, the Parsee was not there.
âThe Parsee!â cried Stubbââhe must have been caught in-â
âThe black vomit wrench thee!ârun all of ye above, alow, cabin, forecastleâfind himânot goneânot gone!â
But quickly they returned to him with the tidings that the Parsee was nowhere to be found.
âAye, sir,â said Stubbââcaught among the tangles of your lineâ I thought I saw him dragging under.â
âMy line! my line? Gone?âgone? What means that little word?â What death-knell rings in it, that old Ahab shakes as if he were the belfry. The harpoon, too!âtoss over the litter there,â dâye see it?âthe forged iron, men, the white whaleâsâno, no, no,â blistered fool; this hand did dart it!ââtis in the fish!âAloft there! Keep him nailed-Quick!âall hands to the rigging of the boatsâ collect the oarsâharpooneers! the irons, the irons!âhoist the royals higherâa pull on all the sheets!âhelm there! steady, steady for your life! Iâll ten times girdle the unmeasured globe; yea and dive straight through it, but Iâll slay him yet!
âGreat God! but for one single instant show thyself,â cried Starbuck; ânever, never wilt thou capture him, old manâ In Jesusâ name no more of this, thatâs worse than devilâs madness. Two days chased; twice stove to splinters; thy very leg once more snatched from under thee; thy evil shadow goneâall good angels mobbing thee with warnings:âwhat more wouldst thou have?â Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish till he swamps the last man? Shall we be dragged by him to the bottom of the sea? Shall we be towed by him to the infernal world? Oh, oh,â Impiety and blasphemy to hunt him more!â
âStarbuck, of late Iâve felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that hour we both sawâthou knowâst what, in one anotherâs eyes. But in this matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this handâa lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab is for ever Ahab, man. This whole actâs immutably decreed. âTwas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fatesâ lieutenant; I act under orders. Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine.âStand round men, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered lance; propped up on a lonely foot. âTis Ahabâhis bodyâs part; but Ahabâs soulâs a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel strained, half-stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a gale; and I may look so. But ere I break, yell hear me crack; and till ye hear that, know that Ahabâs hawser tows his purpose yet. Believe ye, men, in the things called omens? Then laugh aloud, and cry encore! For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface; then rise again, to sink for evermore. So with Moby Dickâtwo days heâs floatedâto-morrow will be the third. Aye, men, heâll rise once more,âbut only to spout his last! Dâye feel brave men, brave?â
âAs fearless fire,â cried Stubb.
âAnd as mechanical,â muttered Ahab. Then as the men went forward, he muttered on: âThe things called omens! And yesterday I talked the same to Starbuck there, concerning my broken boat. Oh! how valiantly I seek to drive out of othersâ hearts whatâs clinched so fast in mine!â The Parseeâthe Parsee!âgone, gone? and he was to go before:â but still was to be seen again ere I could perishâHowâs that?â Thereâs a riddle now might baffle all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of the whole line of judges:âlike a hawkâs beak it pecks my brain. Iâll, Iâll solve it, though!â
When dusk descended, the whale was still in sight to leeward.
So once more the sail was shortened, and everything passed nearly as on the previous night; only, the sound of hammers, and the hum of the grindstone was heard till nearly daylight, as the men toiled by lanterns in the complete and careful rigging of the spare boats and sharpening their fresh weapons for the morrow. Meantime, of the broken keel of Ahabâs wrecked craft the carpenter made him another leg; while still as on the night before, slouched Ahab stood fixed within his scuttle; his hid, heliotrope glance anticipatingly gone backward on its dial; sat due eastward for the earliest sun.
CHAPTER 135
The Chase â Third Day
The morning of the third day dawned fair and fresh, and once more the solitary night-man at the fore-mast-head was relieved by crowds of the daylight look-outs, who dotted every mast and almost every spar.
âDâye see him?â cried Ahab; but the whale was not yet in sight.
âIn his infallible wake, though; but follow that wake, thatâs all. Helm there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going. What a lovely day again! were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Hereâs food for thought, had Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels; thatâs tingling enough for mortal man! to thinkâs audacity. God only has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that. And yet, Iâve sometimes thought my brain was very calmâ frozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, itâs like that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as fleeces. Out upon it!âitâs tainted. Were I the wind, Iâd blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. Iâd crawl somewhere to a
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