"Call me Ishmael..." - I am the First and the Last And Alive ...
The
white whale was always a symbol of purity of soul over the hatred of
those who wanted to kill it, the white meant the transient, years
followed and followed and the whale escaped its misfortune, have
never been caught, have never been defeated, in contrary, it
destroyed the oppressors, outsmarted them in various ways to show its
greatness and profoundness.
The
plot might sound trivial, naïve imaginations of the fellows
perceived as a light tale. Nothing more misleading. The book is
sophisticated, an invocation to God, Ishmael and his whaling
adventure whaling has a story to tell, the symbolism of his name, the
Pequod – the ship, captain Ahab and the rest of the crew is
omnipresent. Nothing is accidental, without a cause. The purpose is
everywhere.
The
author was fascinated by the whales and whaling business, he was
always wealthy and descendent from the colonial families. He
travelled a lot, he wanted to see the world, he wanted to meet other
cultures, nations which were influential for Americans. His long last
and very important friendship was with Nathaniel Hawthorne. It had a
great impact on how Melville perceived some things and how he wrote.
"Moby
Dick" was supposed to be a turning piont in Melville's writing
career, sadly, despite of a wonderful dedication to Nathaniel
Hawthorne, the book was scarcely read, most of the people, simply,
didn't like it, what's more, didn't understand it.
Due
to family and friends support, he was able to pay off some of his
debts, he didn't stop writing, what he wrote made him famous. Yeas
after his death people started to understand and appreciate "Moby
Dick" which is undoubtedly a masterpiece of whaling, biblical,
behavioral and cultural knowledge.
The
beginning of the book, might be boring, for some audience, though.
The etymology of the noun "Whale" is so important, the
book, indeed, will be about the "devilish" white whale, so
according to the author it is important to know it's origins. The
whale is not an ordinary whale, naturally.
"(...) "While you take
in hand to school others, and to teach them by what name a whale-fish
is to be called in our tongue leaving out, through ignorance, the
letter H, which almost alone maketh the signification of the word,
you deliver that which is not true." —HACKLUYT "WHALE....
Sw. and Dan. HVAL. This animal is named from roundness or rolling;
for in Dan. HVALT is arched or vaulted." —WEBSTER'S DICTIONAR
(...)"
(...) "WHALE.... It is more
immediately from the Dut. and Ger. WALLEN; A.S. WALW-IAN, to roll, to
wallow." — RICHARDSON'S DICTIONARY KETOS,
GREEK.
CETUS, LATIN.
WHOEL,
ANGLO-SAXON.
HVALT, DANISH.
WAL, DUTCH.
HWAL, SWEDISH.
WHALE, ICELANDIC.
WHALE, ENGLISH.
BALEINE, FRENCH.
BALLENA, SPANISH.
PEKEE-NUEE-NUEE, FEGEE.
PEHEE-NUEE-NUEE,
ERROMANGOAN.(...)"
The
way Melville describes Moby Dick is aloof, profound, one may think
abnormal, straight at the very beginning there nothing more than
"(...)this mere painstaking burrower and grub-worm of a poor
devil of a Sub-Sub appears (...)". This creature has got power,
this creature is a large beast people have a change to meet, it is
unique, lives in abyss of the oceans and seas, unbounded and
undisturbed by anyone. One has to be afraid of it, one has to respect
its immerse teeth, hostile and tremendous posture.
"(...) As touching the
ancient authors generally, as well as the poets here appearing, these
extracts are solely valuable or entertaining, as affording a glancing
bird's eye view of what has been promiscuously said, thought,
fancied, and sung of Leviathan, by many nations and generations,
including our own.
(...) But gulp down your tears
and hie aloft to the royal-mast with your hearts; for your friends
who have gone before are clearing out the sevenstoried heavens, and
making refugees of long-pampered 1Gabriel,
Michael, and Raphael, against your coming. Here ye strike but
splintered hearts together— there, ye shall strike unsplinterable
glasses!(...)"
It
was the God's will to create the whale, the book of Genesis Herman
Mellvile is quoting shows the revelation of its birth:
"(...) "And God created
great whales." — GENESIS. "Leviathan maketh a path to
shine after him; One would think the deep to be hoary." —JOB.
"Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah."
—JONAH. "There go the ships; there is that Leviathan whom thou
hast made to play therein." —PSALMS. "In that day, the
Lord with his sore, and great, and strong sword, shall punish
Leviathan the piercing serpent, even Leviathan that crooked serpent;
and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea." —ISAIAH
"And what thing soever
besides cometh within the chaos of this monster's mouth, be it beast,
boat, or stone, down it goes all incontinently that foul great
swallow of his, and perisheth in the bottomless gulf of his paunch."
— HOLLAND'S PLUTARCH'S MORALS. "The Indian Sea breedeth the
most and the biggest fishes that are: among which the Whales and
Whirlpooles called Balaene, take up as much in length as four acres
or arpens of land." — HOLLAND'S PLINY. "Scarcely had we
proceeded two days on the sea, when about sunrise a great many Whales
and other monsters of the sea, appeared. Among the former, one was of
a most monstrous size (...)
"(...) "That sea beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim
the ocean stream." —PARADISE LOST "(...)"
Despite
it mythological mysticism, the creature is infamous, the values of the whales were prized and
very expensive, the whale was a source of great money, great fame,
great respect, the sperm whales provided everything any American
family could dream of ...
"(...) "This whale's
liver was two cartloads." —STOWE'S ANNALS (...)"
"(...) "The great
Leviathan that maketh the seas to seethe like boiling pan." —
LORD BACON'S VERSION OF THE PSALMS.(...)"
"(...) "They grow
exceeding fat, insomuch that an incredible quantity of oil will be
extracted out of one whale." —IBID. "HISTORY OF LIFE AND
DEATH." "The sovereignest thing on earth is parmacetti for
an inward bruise." — KING HENRY.(...)"
"(...) "Immense as
whales, the motion of whose vast bodies can in a peaceful calm
trouble the ocean til it boil." —SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. PREFACE
TO GONDIBERT. "What spermacetti is, men might justly doubt,
since the learned Hosmannus in his work of thirty years, saith
plainly, Nescio quid sit." —SIR T. BROWNE. OF SPERMA CETI AND
THE SPERMA CETI WHALE. VIDE HIS V. E. (...)"
The
hunting is dangerous, yet, it is the ritual the whalers keep and worship. A tradition, a ceremony and celebration of life and death.
"(...)"Mad with the
agonies he endures from these fresh attacks, the infuriated Sperm
Whale rolls over and over; he rears his enormous head, and with wide
expanded jaws snaps at everything around him; he rushes at the boats
with his head; they are propelled before him with vast swiftness, and
sometimes utterly destroyed.... It is a matter of great astonishment
that the consideration of the habits of so interesting, and, in a
commercial point of view, so important an animal (as the Sperm Whale)
should have been so entirely neglected, or should have excited so
little curiosity among the numerous, and many of them competent
observers, that of late years, must have possessed the most abundant
and the most convenient opportunities of witnessing their habitudes."
— THOMAS BEALE'S HISTORY OF THE SPERM WHALE, 1839.(...) "The
Whale is harpooned to be sure; but bethink you, how you would manage
a powerful unbroken colt, with the mere appliance of a rope tied to
the root of his tail." —A CHAPTER ON WHALING IN RIBS AND
TRUCKS.(...)"The aorta of a whale is larger in the bore than the
main pipe of the waterworks at London Bridge, and the water roaring
in its passage through that pipe is inferior in impetus and velocity
to the blood gushing from the whale's heart." —PALEY'S
THEOLOGY ".
The
need of hunting and enormous trade benefits made whaling extremely
popular, in the times of Herman Mellvile is was not just a game, it
was a life-style, if one wanted to survive had to hunt something, a
giant whale seemed to be something sensational, not only it provided
the meat, but its body was versatile, any part of the whale was going
to be wasted, all was used to make an entire family happy and
prosperous.
2Ishmael
tells the story of a whale hunt, a story of passion, and bravery. His
name carries a biblical notion. We have to look at Ishmael in an
angle Herman Melville perceived him, he is not from the Orient, he
wanders, but, with pure curiosity, he is a white American who wants
to become a whaler. He has got a name of an Biblical outcast – we
cannot give him another name, that is the parallel he bears. He is
by no means a bearer of biblical prophecies – totally unknowing it.
It is just his destiny. He has to live against all odds. The novel
shows us, he does. He wants to explore the life of oceanic
wilderness, to be a "wild man". His nature magnetizes
Queequg, who frees Ishmael from the hostilities and evil temptation
of the world.
"(...)Call me Ishmael. Some
years ago— never mind how long precisely—having little or no
money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I
thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the
world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating
the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find
myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing
up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos
get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral
principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street,
and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high
time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol
and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his
sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in
this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time
or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean
with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted
round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds
it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its
extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by
waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of
sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from
Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall,
northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around
the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean
reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the
pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some
high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better
seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in
lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to
desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they
here? But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water,
and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them
but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of
yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh
the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they
stand—miles of them— leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes
and alleys, streets and avenues— north, east, south, and west. Yet
here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles
of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither? Once more.
Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost
any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale,
and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it.
Let the most absentminded of men be plunged in his deepest
reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he
will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that
region. Should you ever be athirst in
the great American desert, try
this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a
metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water
are wedded for ever. But here is an artist. He desires to paint you
the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic
landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he
employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a
hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and
there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy
smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to
overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But
though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree
shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all
were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream
before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores
of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one
charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were
Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles
to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly
receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a
coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip
to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a
robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea?
Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such
a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now
out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why
did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove?
Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning
of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the
tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and
was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and
oceans. It is the image of the
ungraspable phantom of life; and
this is the key to it all. (...)"
A
pure necessity and bravery triggered this young man to a whaling ship.
The name we trust is real and the narrator introduces himself and
encourages us to read the book, to read about his adventure which led
him to meet exceptional people on the deck of the quite unique ship –
Peqoud. At the very beginning of the introduction, the reader finds out
that Ishmael need tranquility, he wants to keep himself level-headed.
The aura is gloomy, November is dark, hopeless month, Ishmael wants
to overcome the boredom and dullness that surrounds him, the work gives
him peace ... gives him experience he needs. He fights with
melancholy, namely, he believes, the company of other people shakes
it off.
The
bad mood and melancholy make Ismael to think of bad thinks, he imagines he's got
some rolls in his pocket, imagines the solution if the enroll to the
whaling ship was unsuccessful, yet it is just a thought ...
philosophical derivation. Ishmael describes his new surroundings, how
he goes all around .... Men are eager to sail, their life is filled
with misfortune, they want to fill it with adventure and money,
right, the money is the factor which put their lives and reputation
at ease. Ishmael says about the leagues – which is very important,
the leagues reflects the distance from one's current place or
position to the horizon, Melville underlines that the landmen don't
stretch for miles, no matter how high one might climb to get the
better point of observation, loiteres will always stretch farther
than the horizon. The common purpose those all people gathered
together is one – the ocean, they came from all over the globe and
met in one particular place to off go far into the sea. It is so
strange for him that he attributes this event to compasses and other
magnetic instruments ships are filled with. The equipment and the new
era of sea travelling in one, but, the Pequod's crew will test not
only them, but, endurance, as well.
The
knowledge and its lack is a theme of the book, the sailors will have
to understand what is the most important for them, the
self-preservation, the water of the ocean is unfolded, is mysterious
and treacherous, kills with no mercy. Before he put his foot on dock
he recalls the mythological Gods, their strength and vicious powers.
He realizes ... being far out ... on the ship ... with men he had
never met before would be a tough task. The whaling adventure of
Ishmael starts with a bad luck, let's be frank, Ahab and his cursed
ship magnetized him. Ishmael travelled a long way from New York to
New Bedford , Massachusetts. He missed the ferry to Nantucket –
desperate he has to find some cheap bad and much more chaper
breakfast!
"(...)What of it, if some
old hunks of a seacaptain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the
decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the
scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel
thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully
obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave?
Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order
me about—however they may thump
and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all
right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the
same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that
is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should
rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content. Again, I always go
to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my
trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever
heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there
is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The
act of paying is
perhaps the most uncomfortable
infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But BEING
PAID,— what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a
man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so
earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that
on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we
consign ourselves to perdition! Finally, I always go to sea as a
sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the
fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more
prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the
Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the
quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on
the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much
the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other
things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But
wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a
merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling
voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the
constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me
in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else.
And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the
grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago.
(...)
It
must be recalled that "Moby Dick" was published in 1851 –
before the slavery was officially abolished in the USA. Ishmael sees
slaves – must accept this state of the matter, just for now,
however, he doesn't share it at all! He sees and judges, he recalls "the two orchard thieves" – obviously, Adam and Eve, but,
Melville says about the sin, the sin which is evil, which stay with
us till the very end, like a scar. The sin brought greed – greed
made a birth for money, and it is how the vicious circle begun.
Ishmael mentions Providence, not without a cause, for religious
people, the providence is a compass, a guidance, it was believed all
provided by God, his decision has been scheduled, as a scheme, it
must go on, mustn't it? He deeply believes in fate, good fortune,
that will never abandons him. This is quite a romantic way of
thinking, a sentimental way of thinking, no surprisingly, the novel
has been written in a Romantic Period, as well as, American
Renaissance.
Ishmaels
reaches the Sputer-Inn in where he sees an oil painting, it
fascinates him, makes his imagination on and on ...
"(...) Entering that
gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low,
straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the
bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large
oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in
the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by
diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful
inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an
understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and
shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young
artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to
delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest
contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by
throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at
last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might
not be altogether unwarranted (...)"
He
has been thoroughly examining the painting, sees the "monstrous
whale" attacking the ship, almost devouring it with
delight. The New England hags stand for so popular withcraft in
America, in particular Salem Witch Trial. After a while he decides to
sleep in the shared bed.
"(...)"Landlord!"
said I, "what sort of a chap is he—does he always keep such
late hours?" It was now hard upon twelve o'clock. The landlord
chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be mightily
tickled at something beyond my comprehension. "No," he
answered, "generally he's an early bird—airley to bed and
airley to rise—yes, he's the bird what catches the worm. But
to-night he went out a peddling, you see, and I don't see what on
airth keeps him so late, unless, may be, he can't sell his head."
"Can't sell his head?—What sort of a bamboozingly story is
this you are
telling me?" getting into a
towering rage. "Do you pretend to say, landlord, that this
harpooneer is actually engaged this blessed Saturday night, or rather
Sunday morning, in peddling his head around this town?" "That's
precisely it," said the landlord, "and I told him he
couldn't sell it here, the market's overstocked." "With
what?" shouted I. "With heads to be sure; ain't there too
many heads in the world?" "I tell you what it is,
landlord," said I quite calmly, "you'd better stop spinning
that yarn to me—I'm not green." "May be not," taking
out a stick and whittling a toothpick, "but I rayther guess
you'll be done BROWN if that ere harpooneer hears you a slanderin'
his head." "I'll break it for him," said I, now flying
into a passion again at this unaccountable farrago of the landlord's.
"It's broke a'ready," said he. "Broke," said
I—"BROKE, do you mean?" "Sartain, and that's the
very reason he can't sell it, I guess." "Landlord,"
said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a snow-storm
—"landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand one
another, and that too without delay. I come to your house and want a
bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half
belongs to a certain harpooneer. And about this harpooneer, whom I
have not yet seen, you persist in telling me the most mystifying and
exasperating stories tending to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling
towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow—a sort of
connexion, landlord, which is an intimate and confidential one in the
highest degree. I now demand of you to speak out and tell me who and
what this harpooneer is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe
to spend the night with him. And in the first place, you will be so
good as to unsay that story about selling his head, which if true I
take to be good evidence that this harpooneer is stark mad, and I've
no idea of sleeping with a madman; and you, sir, YOU I mean,
landlord, YOU, sir, by trying to induce me to do so knowingly, would
thereby render yourself liable to a criminal prosecution."
"Wall," said the landlord, fetching a long breath, "that's
a purty long sarmon for a chap that rips a little now and then. But
be easy, be easy, this here harpooneer I have been tellin' you of has
just arrived from the south seas, where he bought up a lot of 'balmed
New Zealand heads (great curios, you know), and he's sold all on 'em
but one, and that one he's trying to sell to-night, cause tomorrow's
Sunday, and it would not do to be sellin' human heads about the
streets when folks is goin' to churches. He wanted to, last Sunday,
but I stopped him just as he was goin' out of the door with four
heads strung on a string, for all the airth like a string of inions."
This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery, and
showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling
me—but at the same time what could I think of a harpooneer who
stayed out of a Saturday night clean into the holy Sabbath, engaged
in such a cannibal business as selling the heads of dead idolators?
"Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a dangerous man."
"He pays reg'lar," was the rejoinder. "But come, it's
getting dreadful late, you had better be turning flukes—it's a nice
bed; Sal and me slept in that ere bed the night we were spliced.
There's plenty of room for two to kick about in that bed; it's an
almighty big bed that. Why, afore we give it up, Sal used to put our
Sam and little Johnny in the foot of it. But I got a dreaming and
sprawling about one night, and somehow, Sam got pitched on the floor,
and came near breaking his arm. Arter that, Sal said it wouldn't do.
Come along here, I'll give ye a glim in a jiffy;" and so saying
he lighted a candle and held it towards me, offering to lead the way.
But I stood irresolute; when looking at a clock in the corner, he
exclaimed "I vum it's Sunday—you won't see that harpooneer
to-night; he's come to anchor somewhere—come along then; DO come;
WON'T ye come?" I considered the matter a moment, and then up
stairs we went, and I was ushered into a small room, cold as a clam,
and furnished, sure enough, with a prodigious bed, almost big enough
indeed for any four harpooneers to sleep abreast. "There,"
said the landlord, placing the candle on a crazy old sea chest that
did double duty as a wash-stand and centre table; "there, make
yourself comfortable now, and good night to ye." I turned round
from eyeing the bed, but he had disappeared. Folding back the
counterpane, I stooped over the bed. Though none of the most elegant,
it yet stood the scrutiny tolerably well. I then glanced round the
room; and besides the bedstead and centre table, could see no other
furniture belonging to the place, but a rude shelf, the four walls,
and a papered fireboard representing a man striking a whale. Of
things not properly belonging to the room, there was a hammock lashed
up, and thrown upon the floor in one corner; also a large seaman's
bag, containing the harpooneer's wardrobe, no doubt in lieu of a land
trunk. Likewise, there was a parcel of outlandish bone fish hooks on
the shelf over the fire-place, and a tall harpoon standing at the
head of the bed. But what is this on the chest? I took it up, and
held it close to the light, and felt it, and smelt it, and tried
every way possible to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion
concerning it. I can compare it to nothing but a large door mat,
ornamented at the edges with little tinkling tags something like the
stained porcupine quills round an Indian moccasin. There was a hole
or slit in the middle of this mat, as you see the same in South
American ponchos. But could it be possible that any sober harpooneer
would get into a door mat, and parade the streets of any Christian
town in that sort of guise? I put it on, to try it, and it weighed me
down like a hamper, being uncommonly shaggy and thick, and I thought
a little damp, as though this mysterious harpooneer had been wearing
it of a rainy day. I went up in it to a bit of glass stuck against
the wall, and I never saw such a sight in my life. I tore myself out
of it in such a hurry that I gave myself a kink in the neck. I sat
down on the side of the bed, and commenced thinking about this
headpeddling harpooneer, and his door mat. After thinking some time
on the bedside, I got up and took off my monkey jacket, and then
stood in the middle of the room thinking. I then took off my coat,
and thought a little more in my shirt sleeves. But beginning to feel
very cold now, half undressed as I was, and remembering what the
landlord said about the harpooneer's not coming home at all that
night, it being so very late, I made no more ado, but jumped out of
my pantaloons and boots, and then blowing out the light tumbled into
bed, and commended myself to the care of heaven. Whether that
mattress was stuffed with corn-cobs or broken crockery, there is no
telling, but I rolled about a good deal, and could not sleep for a
long time. At last I slid off into a light doze, and had pretty
nearly made a good offing towards the land of Nod, when I heard a
heavy footfall in the passage, and saw a glimmer of light come into
the room from under the door. Lord save me, thinks I, that must be
the harpooneer, the infernal head peddler. But I lay perfectly still,
and resolved not to say a word till spoken to. Holding a light in one
hand, and that identical New Zealand head in the other, the stranger
entered the room, and without looking towards the bed, placed his
candle a good way off from me on the floor in one corner, and then
began working away at the knotted cords of the large bag I before
spoke of as being in the room. I was all eagerness to see his face,
but he kept it averted for some time while employed in unlacing the
bag's mouth. This accomplished, however, he turned round—when, good
heavens! what a sight! Such a face! It was of a dark, purplish,
yellow colour, here and there stuck over with large blackish looking
squares. Yes, it's just as I thought, he's a terrible bedfellow; he's
been in a fight, got dreadfully cut, and here he is, just from the
surgeon. But at that moment he chanced to turn his face so towards
the light, that I plainly saw they could not be sticking-plasters at
all, those black squares on his cheeks. They were stains of some sort
or other. At first I knew not what to make of this; but soon an
inkling of the truth occurred to me. I remembered a story of a white
man —a whaleman too—who, falling among the cannibals, had been
tattooed by them. I concluded that this harpooneer, in the course of
his distant voyages, must have met with a similar adventure. And what
is it, thought I, after all! It's only his outside; a man can be
honest in any sort of skin. But then, what to make of his unearthly
complexion, that part of it, I mean, lying round about, and
completely independent of the squares of tattooing. To be sure, it
might be nothing but a good coat of tropical tanning; but I never
heard of a hot sun's tanning a white man into a purplish yellow one.
However, I had never been in the South Seas; and perhaps the sun
there produced these extraordinary effects upon the skin. Now, while
all these ideas were passing through me like lightning, this
harpooneer never noticed me at all. But, after some difficulty having
opened his bag, he commenced fumbling in it, and presently pulled out
a sort of tomahawk, and a seal-skin wallet with the hair on. Placing
these on the old chest in the middle of the room, he then took the
New Zealand head—a ghastly thing enough—and crammed it down into
the bag. He now took off his hat—a new beaver hat—when I came
nigh singing out with fresh surprise. There was no hair on his
head—none to speak of at least—nothing but a small scalp-knot
twisted up on his forehead. His bald purplish head now looked for all
the world like a mildewed skull. Had not the stranger stood between
me and the door, I would have bolted out of it quicker than ever I
bolted a dinner. Even as it was, I thought something of slipping out
of the window, but it was the second floor back. I am no coward, but
what to make of this head-peddling purple rascal altogether passed my
comprehension. Ignorance is the parent of fear, and being completely
nonplussed and confounded about the stranger, I confess I was now as
much afraid of him as if it was the devil himself who had thus broken
into my room at the dead of night. In fact, I was so afraid of him
that I was not game enough just then to address him, and demand a
satisfactory answer concerning what seemed inexplicable in him.
Meanwhile, he continued the business of undressing, and at last
showed his chest and arms. As I live, these covered parts of him were
checkered with the same squares as his face; his back, too, was all
over the same dark squares; he seemed to have been in a Thirty Years'
War, and just escaped from it with a sticking-plaster shirt. Still
more, his very legs were marked, as if a parcel of dark green frogs
were running up the trunks of young palms. It was now quite plain
that he must be some abominable savage or other shipped aboard of a
whaleman in the South Seas, and so landed in this Christian country.
I quaked to think of it. A peddler of heads too— perhaps the heads
of his own brothers. He might take a fancy to mine—heavens! look at
that tomahawk! But there was no time for shuddering, for now the
savage went about
something that completely
fascinated my attention, and convinced me that he must indeed be a
heathen. Going to his heavy grego, or wrapall, or dreadnaught, which
he had previously hung on a chair, he fumbled in the pockets, and
produced at length a curious little deformed image with a hunch on
its back, and exactly the colour of a three days' old Congo baby.
Remembering the embalmed head, at first I almost thought that this
black manikin was a real baby preserved in some similar manner. But
seeing that it was not at all limber, and that it glistened a good
deal like polished ebony, I concluded that it must be nothing but a
wooden idol, which indeed it proved to be. For now the savage goes up
to the empty fire-place, and removing the papered fire-board, sets up
this little hunch-backed image, like a tenpin, between the andirons.
The chimney jambs and all the bricks inside were very sooty, so that
I thought this fireplace made a very appropriate little shrine or
chapel for his Congo idol. I now screwed my eyes hard towards the
half hidden image, feeling but ill at ease meantime—to see what was
next to follow. First he takes about a double handful of shavings out
of his grego pocket, and places them carefully before the idol; then
laying a bit of ship biscuit on top and applying the flame from the
lamp, he kindled the shavings into a sacrificial blaze. Presently,
after many hasty snatches into the fire, and still hastier
withdrawals of his fingers (whereby he seemed to be scorching them
badly), he at last succeeded in drawing out the biscuit; then blowing
off the heat and ashes a little, he made a polite offer of it to the
little negro. But the little devil did not seem to fancy such dry
sort of fare at all; he never moved his lips. All these strange
antics were accompanied by still stranger guttural noises from the
devotee, who seemed to be praying in a sing-song or else singing some
pagan psalmody or other, during which his face twitched about in the
most unnatural manner. At last extinguishing the fire, he took the
idol up very unceremoniously, and bagged it again in his grego pocket
as carelessly as if he were a sportsman bagging a dead woodcock. All
these queer proceedings increased my uncomfortableness, and seeing
him now exhibiting strong symptoms of concluding his business
operations, and jumping into bed with me, I thought it was high time,
now or never, before the light was put out, to break the spell in
which I had so long been bound. But the interval I spent in
deliberating what to say, was a fatal one. Taking up his tomahawk
from the table, he examined the head of it for an instant, and then
holding it to the light, with his mouth at the handle, he puffed out
great clouds of tobacco smoke. The next moment the light was
extinguished, and this wild cannibal, tomahawk between his teeth,
sprang into bed with me. I sang out, I could not help it now; and
giving a sudden grunt of astonishment he began feeling me. Stammering
out something, I knew not what, I rolled away from him against the
wall, and then conjured him, whoever or whatever he might be, to keep
quiet, and let me get up and light the lamp again. But his guttural
responses satisfied me at once that he but ill ill comprehended my
meaning. "Who-e debel you?"—he at last said —"you
no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e." And so saying the lighted
tomahawk began flourishing about me in the dark.
"Landlord, for God's sake,
Peter Coffin!" shouted I. "Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels!
save me!" "Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or dam-me, I
kill-e!" again growled the cannibal, while his horrid
flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the hot tobacco ashes about me
till I thought my linen would get on fire. But thank heaven, at that
moment the landlord came into the room light in hand, and leaping
from the bed I ran up to him. "Don't be afraid now," said
he, grinning again, "Queequeg here wouldn't harm a hair of your
head." "Stop your grinning," shouted I, "and why
didn't you tell me that that infernal harpooneer was a cannibal?"
"I thought ye know'd
it;—didn't I tell ye, he was a peddlin' heads around town?—but
turn flukes again and go to sleep. Queequeg, look here—you sabbee
me, I sabbee—you this man sleepe you —you sabbee?" "Me
sabbee plenty"—grunted Queequeg, puffing away at his pipe and
sitting up in bed. "You gettee in," he added, motioning to
me with his tomahawk, and throwing the clothes to one side. He really
did this in not only a civil but a really kind and charitable way. I
stood looking at him a moment. For all his tattooings he was on the
whole a clean, comely looking cannibal. What's all this fuss I have
been making about, thought I to myself—the man's a human being just
as I am: he has just as much reason to fear me, as I have to be
afraid of him. Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken
Christian. "Landlord," said I, "tell him to stash his
tomahawk there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop
smoking, in short, and I will turn in with him. But I don't fancy
having a man smoking in bed with me. It's dangerous. Besides, I ain't
insured." This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and
again politely motioned me to get into bed—rolling over to one side
as much as to say—"I won't touch a leg of ye." "Good
night, landlord," said I, "you may go."
I turned in, and never slept
better in my life.(...)"
He
will share his place with a harpooner; the harpooner is a bizarre man,
he made prayers, some kind of rituals; Ishmael is truly frozen with
fear. The fear turns into scream, both men scream at one another when
sees each other. Funny? Not quite at that time! Despite the fear,
both man felt they become good friends. That's how the reader meets
Queequg. He wants to discover the world, he wants to travel and
experience. It is very important, Queequg is omnipresent in the novel, though, he is not the first prime
character in the story. He is the best harpooner who works for
Starbuck. Queequg is intelligent despite of his origins, he is a
member of a primitive tribe – cannibals. As was mentioned, He is not a principal
character all along, however, he saves Ishmael's life one by once,
his rituals and habits may amaze. Queequg is a very good fellow.
The
tradition asked all sailors to farewell with their families and God
in the Chapel by listening of the words of God.
"(...) But high above the
flying scud and dark-rolling clouds, there floated a little isle of
sunlight, from which beamed forth an angel's face; and this bright
face shed a distinct spot of radiance upon the ship's tossed deck,
something like that silver plate now inserted into the Victory's
plank where Nelson fell. "Ah, noble ship," the angel seemed
to say, "beat on, beat on, thou noble ship, and bear a hardy
helm; for lo! the sun is breaking through; the clouds are rolling
off—serenest azure is at hand." (...) " "The ribs
and terrors in the whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom,
While all God's sun-lit waves rolled by, And lift me deepening
down to doom. "I saw the opening maw of hell,
With endless pains and
sorrows there; Which none but they that feel can tell— Oh,
I was plunging to despair. "In black distress, I called my
God, When I could scarce believe him mine, He bowed his ear
to my complaints— No more the whale did me confine. "With
speed he flew to my relief, As on a radiant dolphin borne;
Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone The face of my Deliverer
God. "My song for ever shall record That terrible, that
joyful hour; I give the glory to my God, His all the mercy
and the power." (...)"
Ishmael
is not afraid of death, the deeper he understands the whaling
business, the more sane, mature he becomes. He believes that not only
God is able to break his spirit. He anticipates, welcomes that
moment.
"(...) "Beloved
shipmates, clinch the last verse of the first chapter of Jonah—'And
God had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.'"
(...)""(...) And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves;
and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of
obeying God consists (...)"
The
sermon is to recall how dangerous the seas and oceans might be, the
sermon is to recall that sailors should be modest, should respect the
seas and oceans as well as the fish living there ... the lesson of
obedience and modesty was failed by Ahab, he cannot understand that
Moby Dick is above him, above his capacity of catching him... . Moby
Dick is out of reach, Ahab, however, doesn't listen, he will
sacrifice his time, money, crew, himself in the name of catching the
white whale, he shows disrespect toward God, the God who indicates
him to stop. Alike Jonas – who was reckless and ignorant, Ahab will
be punished, he will experience the wrath of God. The sermon is about
to be remembered – at the open ocean by the sailors who are so far
away from home. Ahab was not participating, he was planning how to
catch the whale one more time, how to be well prepared for the final
and definite battle. The person who attended and realizes of the
danger was Starbuck. He prepares the Pequog – he knows the ship is
not ready, the ship needs maintainance, she is beautiful but without
time, becomes useless. He knows Ahab, knows he stubborn as a mule,
nonetheless, he is a great sailor and manages well at sea. After the
sermon it is Sturbuck who chooses the crew, he does it wisely.
"(...)"Who is Captain
Ahab, sir?" "Aye, aye, I thought so. Captain Ahab is the
Captain of this ship." "I am mistaken then. I thought I was
speaking to the Captain himself." (...)"
Captain
Ahab is experienced, is angry, Moby Dick deprived him of his precious
leg, he wants a vengeance. Quick and effective. He is mad and frenzy.
Ahab is monomaniacal, totally unpredictable, blind with hatred. The
whale will drag Ahab to his death. The character of Ahab was inspired
by works of Shakespeare, Milton, Samuel Taylor Coleridge ... . In
Shakespearean works, Ahab is a tragic hero, the same way he is
portrayed by Coleridge "at
all detract from him, dramatically regarded, if either by birth or
other circumstances, he have what seems a half-wilful over-ruling
morbidness
at the bottom of his nature (...)”. In Shakespearean “King Lear”
Melville sought and inspiration, he found it, Ahab unlike Lear “does
not in this night of storm discover his love for his fellow wretches.
On the contrary, this night Ahab uncovers his whole hate” (...)”
“(...)Thou touchest my inmost centre, boy; thou are tied to me by
chords woven of my heart-strings (...)”. Milton describes Ahab as
Satan, towering rebel, diabolic character. Furthermore, in the
chapter entitled “The Candles” Ahab's harpoon is called 'feiry
dart' which is about to protect him like a magic shield. Ahab's
character and the way Melville describes his inanity have got a
pattern, determined by mythical and literary influence. He is
frequently compared to Odepius who was a symbol of ignorance,
reckless decisions, and lack of knowledge, proper, reasonable
judgment. He is also very, very proud, much more like Prometheus
he expresses himself “(...) Ahab's theft is a boldly defiant deed,
set amidst elemental nature in furious eruption (...)” He wants to
challenge God, He wants to God that he might be supreme ... blind
with fury, he will not see the God's anger;
“(...) He looked like a man cut
away from the stake, when the fire has overrunningly wasted all the
limbs without consuming them, or taking away one particle from their
compacted aged robustness. His whole high, broad form, seemed made of
solid bronze, and shaped in an unalterable mould, like Cellini's cast
Perseus (...)”
Ahab
is certain and convinced he can control the evil, foresee its deed
and stop it. Above all, there is also much more profound meaning of
the his name, the biblical, referring to the Books of Kings, which
stands for evil worshipper, the Biblical Ahab foretold the death of
Captain Ahab, his ivory house – the ship Pequod is filled with his
whaling trophies, but, the good fortune ends, the commercial whaling
is no longer important to him, he wants revenge. He believed in
prophesies, one follows that before he dies he sees two hearses, he
precedes his captain as a pilot and that only hemp kills him – how
misleading were all of them, deceitful. He trusted and was defeated
by his own carelessness.
“(...) Threading its way out
from among his grey hairs, and continuing right down one side of his
tawny scorched face and neck, till it disappeared in his clothing,
you saw a slender rod-like mark, lividly whitish. It resembled that
perpendicular seam sometimes made in the straight, lofty trunk of a
great tree, when the upper lightning tearingly darts down it, and
without wrenching a single twig, peels and grooves out the bark from
top to bottom, ere running off into the soil, leaving the tree still
greenly alive, but branded. Whether that mark was born with him, or
whether it was the scar left by some desperate wound, no one could
certainly say (...)”
Yes, it is true, Moby Dick and
Ahab reflect one another, the images of divinity and royalty are
subscribed to them, each of them is marked by scars and wounds, both
have a high brow. Moreover both are very stubborn, isolated,
vengeful. Another common feature is narrow thinking, simply, lack of
rational judgment. The golden doubloon was to outsmart his crew
members, but, they know ... their fate, with or without the gold
coin.
Ahab seeks the good fortune, when
he notices albatrosses, he believes he spots the white whale as well,
instead he notices something entirely different;
3“(...)
South-eastward from the Cape, off the distant Crozetts, a good
cruising ground for Right Whalemen, a sail loomed ahead, the Goney
(Albatross) by name. As she slowly drew nigh, from my lofty perch at
the fore-mast-head (...) As if the waves had been fullers, this craft
was bleached like the skeleton of a stranded walrus (...)”
The prophecy told the tale,
Ishmael will be the only one who will survive, the ship and all its
crew will die. Ishmael is marked with good fate.
“(...)The angel
of the LORD said to her further, "Behold, you are with child,
And you will bear a son; And you shall call his name Ishmael, Because
the LORD has given heed to your affliction. "He will be a wild
donkey of a man, His hand will be against everyone, And everyone's
hand will be against him; And he will live to the east of all his
brothers." hen she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her,
"You are a God who sees"; for she said, "Have I even
remained alive here after seeing Him?"…(...)
Ishmael respects Ahab, he is about to
watch for the white whale – Moby Dick and do not spot any other
schools of whales – the obeys the orders. Throughout the book we learn
a lot about the Sperm Whale, we know the all etymology of this
animal, from the smallest bone, to the nervous system, from its guts,
to the behavioral intimacy. The Sperm Whale couldn't hide anything
from its origins from Melville. The evil in the book is omnipresent,
While Ishmael is watching for Mody Dick, Captain Ahab becomes more
and more insane and mad. Wile sailing the met a ship Jerobam of
Nanucket. The name of the ship is not an accidental one, it bears the
name of the king of Israel, he was cursed, sinful king. The Captain
of Jerobam is looking for help; Ahab, on the other hand is hungry for
knowledge where the white whale is ...
“(...) But this did by no means
prevent all communications. Preserving an interval of some few yards
between itself and the ship, the Jeroboam's boat by the occasional
use of its oars contrived to keep parallel to the Pequod, as she
heavily forged through the sea (for by this time it blew very fresh),
with her main-topsail aback; though, indeed, at times by the sudden
onset of a large rolling wave, the boat would be pushed some way
ahead; but would be soon skilfully brought to her proper bearings
again. (...)”
It must be imagined how difficult
it is to communicate between two such big ships, nonetheless, the
information are so important the Caprain will take a risk.
“(...) He
announced himself as the archangel Gabriel, and commanded the captain
to jump overboard. He published his manifesto, whereby he set himself
forth as the deliverer of the isles of the sea and vicar-general of
all Oceanica. The unflinching earnestness with which he declared
these things;—the dark, daring play of his sleepless, excited
imagination, and all the preternatural terrors of real delirium,
united to invest this Gabriel in the minds of the majority of the
ignorant crew, with an atmosphere of sacredness. Moreover, they were
afraid of him. As such a man, however, was not of much practical use
in the ship, especially as he refused to work except when he pleased,
the incredulous captain would fain have been rid of him; but apprised
that that individual's intention was to land him in the first
convenient port, the archangel forthwith opened all his seals and
vials—devoting the ship and all hands to unconditional perdition,
in case this intention was carried out. So strongly did he work upon
his disciples among the crew, that at last in a body they went to the
captain and told him if Gabriel was sent from the ship, not a man of
them would remain. He was therefore forced to relinquish his plan.
Nor would they permit Gabriel to be any way maltreated, say or do
what he would; so that it came to pass that Gabriel had the complete
freedom of the ship. (...)”
Herman
Melville by implementing an archangel Gabriel illustrated how
desperate Ahab is, Gabriel is the God's favorite messenger, it was
him who announced the birth of Jesus Christ, the annunciation, such a
good news, isn't it? Mustn't we forget he is also a dark figure,
therefore, the author describes him with the colors alike. The crew
beware of Gabriel, they believe he went mad, Gabriel was naturally
deranged, also beyond what is natural and acceptable. The crew feels
damnation, an eternal punishment above all. It is Gabriel who is
pronounced a frenzy Captain, the crew with fear will follow him,
whenever, he asks them to ... like Ahab does. Ahab is so desperate that he ignores the plague that torments the crew of the ship.
"(...)"Hast thou seen
the White Whale?" demanded Ahab, when the boat drifted back.
"Think, think of thy whale-boat, stoven and sunk! Beware of the
horrible tail!" "I tell thee again, Gabriel, that—"
But again the boat tore ahead as if dragged by fiends. Nothing was
said for some moments, while a succession of riotous waves rolled by,
which by one of those occasional caprices of the seas were tumbling,
not heaving it. Meantime, the hoisted sperm whale's head jogged about
very violently, and Gabriel was seen eyeing it with rather more
apprehensiveness than his archangel nature seemed to warrant. (...)"
Ahab
is indifferent, he listens to the tale, he doesn't feel and see the
God's Anger, in the violent attack, Moby Dick harms nothing only the
harpooner. Ishmael is listening to the conversation and is skeptical,
he judges and tries to understand Moby Dick which according to what
he heard has got a great intelligence - compared to humans. He
declines that thought after some time ... but he anticipates to see
the monster.
"(...) "D'ye see him?"
cried Ahab after allowing a little space for the light to spread.
"See nothing, sir." (...)
""There she blows—she
blows!—she blows!—right ahead!" was now the mast-head cry.
"Aye, aye!" cried Stubb, "I knew it— ye can't
escape—blow on and split your spout, O whale! the mad fiend himself
is after ye! blow your trump—blister your lungs!—Ahab will dam
off your blood, as a miller shuts his watergate upon the stream!
(...)"Aye, breach your last to the sun, Moby Dick!" cried
Ahab, "thy hour and thy harpoon are at hand!—Down! down all of
ye, but one man at the fore. The boats!—stand by!"
The
wild chase has no end, once Ahab spotted his prey, he won't let it
go, never again, the crew very obedient, they are scared as hell, as
well, nonetheless, they want to catch Moby Dick, the whale is their
cause they stayed at sea for so long, they were silent when the other
whales passed by, they entirely sacrificed their destiny in the name
of inevitable end – their end and the end of the Moby Dick.
"(...) The wind that made
great bellies of their sails, and rushed the vessel on by arms
invisible as irresistible; this seemed the symbol of that unseen
agency which so enslaved them to the race. They were one man, not
thirty. For as the one ship that held them all; though it was put
together of all contrasting things —oak, and maple, and pine wood;
iron, and pitch, and hemp—yet all these ran into each other in the
one concrete hull, which shot on its way, both balanced and directed
by the long central keel; even so, all the individualities of the
crew, this man's valor, that man's fear; guilt and guiltiness, all
varieties were welded into oneness, and were all directed to that
fatal goal which Ahab their one lord and keel did point to. (...)"
The
crew fight with the Leviathan, they know that together, despite of all
the misunderstandings that took place, they have a chance. The novel
not only focuses on the whale and all the aspects of its life, the
Pequod's crew is a mosaic of cultures, the diversification of
characters. These men met on one ship and represent the different
backgrounds, cultures, race, religion, Melville shows the reader how
genuinely they can unite to fight against one enemy, how wonderful
they are; the ethical, sexual, or religious difference doesn't matter
... the society is asked to accept that diversification. The third
day chase gave Ahab what he wanted ... Moby Dick, the shrewd whale.
"(...)As both steel and
curse sank to the socket, as if sucked into a morass, Moby Dick
sideways writhed; spasmodically rolled his nigh flank against the
bow, and, without staving a hole in it, so suddenly canted the boat
over, that had it not been for the elevated part of the gunwale to
which he then clung, Ahab would once more have been tossed into the
sea (...) As it was, three of the oarsmen—who foreknew not the
precise instant of the dart, and were therefore unprepared for its
effects— these were flung out; but so fell, that, in an instant two
of them clutched the gunwale again, and rising to its level on a
combing wave, hurled themselves bodily inboard again; the third man
helplessly dropping astern, but still afloat and swimming. Almost
simultaneously, with a mighty volition of ungraduated, instantaneous
swiftness, the White Whale darted through the weltering sea. But when
Ahab cried out to the steersman to take new turns with the line, and
hold it so; and commanded the crew to turn round on their seats, and
tow the boat up to the mark; the moment the treacherous line felt
that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!(...) ...
(...)""The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye
sweet powers of air, now hug me close! Let not Starbuck die, if die
he must, in a woman's fainting fit. Up helm, I say—ye fools, the
jaw! the jaw! Is this the end of all my bursting prayers? all my
life-long fidelities? Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman,
steady. Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his
unappeasable brow drives on towards one, whose duty tells him he
cannot depart. My God, stand by me now!" (...)"...(...)""The
ship! The hearse!—the second hearse!" cried Ahab from the
boat; "its wood could only be American!" Diving beneath the
settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its keel; but turning
under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far off the other
bow, but within a few yards of Ahab's boat, where, for a time, he lay
quiescent. (...)"...(...) Towards thee I roll, thou
all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with
thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my
last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common
pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while
still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! THUS, I
give up the spear!" (...)"The harpoon was darted; the
stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran
through the grooves; —ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did
clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and
voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out
of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone...(...)"
Orders
of Captain Ahab are ones, to go straight to kill the way, Starbuck
disobeys some of them, he doesn't want to sail against the wind, he
doesn't want to made the God infuriated, he doesn't want to be
punished by God. The biblical prophecy is filling in as " the
tongues of fire". Melville refers to the Book of Acts, after
Jesus's ascension the tongues of fire appeared above the heads. Moby
Dick is now perceived as a divine creature "(...) Moby Dick
seemed combinedly possessed by all the angels that fell from heaven
(...)". Melville had a reason to portray Moby Dick in that
particular way, according to the Bible and Christian theology
one-third of angels of heaven fell when Lucifer rebelled against God
and was expelled from heaven. These fallen angels were demons. Ahab
tried to defeat the whale for long hours, but he realized he will not
conquer the beast, the whale is physically stronger, greater, wiser,
perhaps. His emotional hatred does not make sense. Ahab met his final
end, his life was taken by Moby Dick, the whale took him in the abyss
of the ocean.
"(...)The drama's done. Why
then here does any one step forth?—Because one did survive the
wreck. It so chanced, that after the Parsee's disappearance, I was he
whom the Fates ordained to take the place of Ahab's bowsman, when
that bowsman assumed the vacant post; the same, who, when on the last
day the three men were tossed from out of the rocking boat, was
dropped astern. So, floating on the margin of the ensuing scene, and
in full sight of it, when the halfspent suction of the sunk ship
reached me, I was then, but slowly, drawn towards the closing vortex.
When I reached it, it had subsided to a creamy pool. Round and round,
then, and ever contracting towards the button-like black bubble at
the axis of that slowly wheeling circle, like another Ixion I did
revolve. Till, gaining that vital centre, the black bubble upward
burst; and now, liberated by reason of its cunning spring, and, owing
to its great buoyancy, rising with great force, the coffin life-buoy
shot lengthwise from the sea, fell over, and floated by my side.
Buoyed up by that coffin, for almost one whole day and night, I
floated on a soft and dirgelike main. The unharming sharks, they
glided by as if with padlocks on their mouths; the savage sea-hawks
sailed with sheathed beaks. On the second day, a sail drew near,
nearer, and picked me up at last. It was the devious-cruising Rachel,
that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found
another orphan.(...)"
Ishmael
survived the mad hunting and shipwrecking of Pequod. Two days he had
been floating on the coffin, spotted by the ship, was rescued,
finally sound and safe. The naming of the ship is not accidental,
Racher was a wife of Jacob, he was the father of sons who gave the
onset of the twelve tribes of Judah. There is a hint of irony; the
situation is grotesque. Matriarch of Israel picks up the outcast –
the brother of Isaac the father of Jacob. Unreal and surrealistic.
(...)" AND I ONLY AM ESCAPED ALONE TO TELL THEE".Job. -
There is a reference to the Book of Job; "Job
and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the
servants to the sword and I am the only one who has escaped to tell
You".
Ishmael compares himself to the servant, the lone survivor, who is
left to tell the very tragic story of his fellowmen.
Bogliography
- Bercaw, Mary K. (1987). Melville's Sources. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press.
- Bezanson, Walter E. (1986). "Moby-Dick: Document, Drama, Dream." In Bryant 1986.
- Bryant, John and Haskell Springer. (2007). "Introduction," "Explanatory Notes" and "The Making of Moby-Dick." In John Bryant and Haskell Springer (eds), Herman Melville, Moby-Dick. New York Boston: Pearson Longman.
- Lawrence, D.H. (1923). Studies in Classic American Literature. Reprinted London: Penguin Books.
- Bryant, John. (1998). "Moby-Dick as Revolution." In Levine 1998.
- Herman, Mellville. (1995). Moby Dick, OUP
- The Northon Anthology of American Literature, 2000
1The
Archangels are the symbol of resurrection, they were sent to engage
the "monster" and lead the line, an eccelstical border,
the route to God. Gabriel and Michael are recognized in in Judaism,
Islam and mostly by Christians. The image of Raphael is venerated in
the Roman Catholic Church. The archangels are to say the God's
wisdom, and word "(...) [17]And when I had seen him, I fell at
his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying: Fear
not. I am the First and the Last, [18]
And alive, and was dead, and behold I am living for ever and
ever, and have the keys of death and of hell (...) -The Apocalypse
Of Saint John (Revelation) | Chapter 1
2
The etymlogy of the name is found in the Old Testament and Koran.
The Biblical Ishmael lived more than 137 years, had 12 sons who gave
the onset of the Arabs and The Nabateans.
3The
Albatros was always accociated with good fortune and luck, here,
Melville gave tribute to the masterpiece of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"The Rhyme to the Ancient Marinner" – his phantom ship
and albatros.
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