A long chapter, but well worth reading by itself, for the description of the chase of the sperm whale.
Predestination is of course the core idea of Calvinism, that God knows his saints in advance. As becomes clear, it is not certain if the virgin in question is the ship Jungfrau or the old whale they chase.The predestinated day arrived, and we duly met the ship Jungfrau, Derick De Deer, master, of Bremen.
and hence the name of the coffee shop chain.it's a coffee-pot, Mr. Starbuck; he's coming off to make us our coffee
obligatory interrogation by Ahab...the German soon evinced his complete ignorance of the White Whale
Melville uses this chapter to evoke sympathy for the whale, here for their fright at knowledge of the murderous intent of their pursuers.
whales were almost simultaneously raised from the mast-heads of both vessels... Aware of their danger, they were going all abreast with great speed straight before the wind
The target is set.many fathoms in the rear, swam a huge, humped old bull... all the combined rival boats were pointed for this one fish, because not only was he the largest, and therefore the most valuable whale, but he was nearest to them
As they say in the Olympic rowing."Oh! see the suds he makes!" cried Flask, dancing up and down—"What a hump—Oh, DO pile on the beef—lays like a log! Oh! my lads, DO spring—slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads—baked clams and muffins—oh, DO, DO, spring,—he's a hundred barreller—don't lose him now—don't oh, DON'T!—see that Yarman—Oh, won't ye pull for your duff, my lads—such a sog! such a sogger! Don't ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men!—a bank!—a whole bank! The bank of England!—Oh, DO, DO, DO!—What's that Yarman about now?"
But most whalers feel as much pity as Daleks, or the sun.It was a terrific, most pitiable, and maddening sight. The whale was now going head out, and sending his spout before him in a continual tormented jet; while his one poor fin beat his side in an agony of fright. Now to this hand, now to that, he yawed in his faltering flight, and still at every billow that he broke, he spasmodically sank in the sea, or sideways rolled towards the sky his one beating fin. So have I seen a bird with clipped wing making affrighted broken circles in the air, vainly striving to escape the piratical hawks. But the bird has a voice, and with plaintive cries will make known her fear; but the fear of this vast dumb brute of the sea, was chained up and enchanted in him; he had no voice, save that choking respiration through his spiracle, and this made the sight of him unspeakably pitiable; while still, in his amazing bulk, portcullis jaw, and omnipotent tail, there was enough to appal the stoutest man who so pitied.
Who ever harpoons the whale first has rights to it.
all three tigers—Queequeg, Tashtego, Daggoo—instinctively sprang to their feet, and standing in a diagonal row, simultaneously pointed their barbs; and darted over the head of the German harpooneer, their three Nantucket irons entered the whale. Blinding vapours of foam and white-fire! The three boats, in the first fury of the whale's headlong rush, bumped the German's aside with such force, that both Derick and his baffled harpooneer were spilled out, and sailed over by the three flying keels.
Terrifying for the men and for the beast they are torturing to death.the monster's run was a brief one. Giving a sudden gasp, he tumultuously sounded. With a grating rush, the three lines flew round the loggerheads with such a force as to gouge deep grooves in them; while so fearful were the harpooneers that this rapid sounding would soon exhaust the lines, that using all their dexterous might, they caught repeated smoking turns with the rope to hold on; till at last—owing to the perpendicular strain from the lead-lined chocks of the boats, whence the three ropes went straight down into the blue—the gunwales of the bows were almost even with the water, while the three sterns tilted high in the air. And the whale soon ceasing to sound, for some time they remained in that attitude, fearful of expending more line, though the position was a little ticklish. But though boats have been taken down and lost in this way, yet it is this "holding on," as it is called; this hooking up by the sharp barbs of his live flesh from the back; this it is that often torments the Leviathan into soon rising again to meet the sharp lance of his foes.
Melville empathises with the poor tormented creature.beneath all that silence and placidity, the utmost monster of the seas was writhing and wrenching in agony! ...In that sloping afternoon sunlight, the shadows that the three boats sent down beneath the surface, must have been long enough and broad enough to shade half Xerxes' army. Who can tell how appalling to the wounded whale must have been such huge phantoms flitting over his head!
What fun they had in the nineteenth century, drowning polar bears out of sheer malice.
the boats gave a sudden bounce upwards, as a small icefield will, when a dense herd of white bears are scared from it into the sea.
Whales are so lucky that our solemn churches are now powered by fossil fuel, otherwise all the whales would long be extinct. As it is we are sending ourselves to extinction by cooking the earth itself.
from the points which the whale's eyes had once occupied, now protruded blind bulbs, horribly pitiable to see. But pity there was none. For all his old age, and his one arm, and his blind eyes, he must die the death and be murdered, in order to light the gay bridals and other merry-makings of men, and also to illuminate the solemn churches that preach unconditional inoffensiveness by all to all.
More piteous melancholy gurglings calculated to incite empathy for the whale and repugnance for his cruel killers.Still rolling in his blood, at last he partially disclosed a strangely discoloured bunch or protuberance, the size of a bushel, low down on the flank. "A nice spot," cried Flask; "just let me prick him there once." "Avast!" cried Starbuck, "there's no need of that!" But humane Starbuck was too late. At the instant of the dart an ulcerous jet shot from this cruel wound, and goaded by it into more than sufferable anguish, the whale now spouting thick blood, with swift fury blindly darted at the craft, bespattering them and their glorying crews all over with showers of gore, capsizing Flask's boat and marring the bows. It was his death stroke. For, by this time, so spent was he by loss of blood, that he helplessly rolled away from the wreck he had made; lay panting on his side, impotently flapped with his stumped fin, then over and over slowly revolved like a waning world; turned up the white secrets of his belly; lay like a log, and died. It was most piteous, that last expiring spout. As when by unseen hands the water is gradually drawn off from some mighty fountain, and with half-stifled melancholy gurglings the spray-column lowers and lowers to the ground—so the last long dying spout of the whale.
And that is what eventually happens.the body showed symptoms of sinking with all its treasures unrifled.
