الفصل الفصل 61 · Stubb Kills a Whale.

If to Starbuck the apparition of the Squid was a thing of portents, to

Queequeg it was quite a different object.

“When you see him ’quid,” said the savage, honing his harpoon in the

bow of his hoisted boat, “then you quick see him ’parm whale.”

The next day was exceedingly still and sultry, and with nothing special

to engage them, the Pequod’s crew could hardly resist the spell of

sleep induced by such a vacant sea. For this part of the Indian Ocean

through which we then were voyaging is not what whalemen call a lively

ground; that is, it affords fewer glimpses of porpoises, dolphins,

flying-fish, and other vivacious denizens of more stirring waters, than

those off the Rio de la Plata, or the in-shore ground off Peru.

It was my turn to stand at the foremast-head; and with my shoulders

leaning against the slackened royal shrouds, to and fro I idly swayed

in what seemed an enchanted air. No resolution could withstand it; in

that dreamy mood losing all consciousness, at last my soul went out of

my body; though my body still continued to sway as a pendulum will,

long after the power which first moved it is withdrawn.

Ere forgetfulness altogether came over me, I had noticed that the

seamen at the main and mizzen-mast-heads were already drowsy. So that

at last all three of us lifelessly swung from the spars, and for every

swing that we made there was a nod from below from the slumbering

helmsman. The waves, too, nodded their indolent crests; and across the

wide trance of the sea, east nodded to west, and the sun over all.

Suddenly bubbles seemed bursting beneath my closed eyes; like vices my

hands grasped the shrouds; some invisible, gracious agency preserved

me; with a shock I came back to life. And lo! close under our lee, not

forty fathoms off, a gigantic Sperm Whale lay rolling in the water like

the capsized hull of a frigate, his broad, glossy back, of an Ethiopian

hue, glistening in the sun’s rays like a mirror. But lazily undulating

in the trough of the sea, and ever and anon tranquilly spouting his

vapory jet, the whale looked like a portly burgher smoking his pipe of

a warm afternoon. But that pipe, poor whale, was thy last. As if struck

by some enchanter’s wand, the sleepy ship and every sleeper in it all

at once started into wakefulness; and more than a score of voices from

all parts of the vessel, simultaneously with the three notes from

aloft, shouted forth the accustomed cry, as the great fish slowly and

regularly spouted the sparkling brine into the air.

“Clear away the boats! Luff!” cried Ahab. And obeying his own order, he

dashed the helm down before the helmsman could handle the spokes.

The sudden exclamations of the crew must have alarmed the whale; and

ere the boats were down, majestically turning, he swam away to the

leeward, but with such a steady tranquillity, and making so few ripples

as he swam, that thinking after all he might not as yet be alarmed,

Ahab gave orders that not an oar should be used, and no man must speak

but in whispers. So seated like Ontario Indians on the gunwales of the

boats, we swiftly but silently paddled along; the calm not admitting of

the noiseless sails being set. Presently, as we thus glided in chase,

the monster perpendicularly flitted his tail forty feet into the air,

and then sank out of sight like a tower swallowed up.

“There go flukes!” was the cry, an announcement immediately followed by

Stubb’s producing his match and igniting his pipe, for now a respite

was granted. After the full interval of his sounding had elapsed, the

whale rose again, and being now in advance of the smoker’s boat, and

much nearer to it than to any of the others, Stubb counted upon the

honor of the capture. It was obvious, now, that the whale had at length

become aware of his pursuers. All silence of cautiousness was therefore

no longer of use. Paddles were dropped, and oars came loudly into play.

And still puffing at his pipe, Stubb cheered on his crew to the

assault.

Yes, a mighty change had come over the fish. All alive to his jeopardy,

he was going “head out”; that part obliquely projecting from the mad

yeast which he brewed.*

*It will be seen in some other place of what a very light substance the

entire interior of the sperm whale’s enormous head consists. Though

apparently the most massive, it is by far the most buoyant part about

him. So that with ease he elevates it in the air, and invariably does

so when going at his utmost speed. Besides, such is the breadth of the

upper part of the front of his head, and such the tapering cut-water

formation of the lower part, that by obliquely elevating his head, he

thereby may be said to transform himself from a bluff-bowed sluggish

galliot into a sharppointed New York pilot-boat.

“Start her, start her, my men! Don’t hurry yourselves; take plenty of

time—but start her; start her like thunder-claps, that’s all,” cried

Stubb, spluttering out the smoke as he spoke. “Start her, now; give ’em

the long and strong stroke, Tashtego. Start her, Tash, my boy—start

her, all; but keep cool, keep cool—cucumbers is the word—easy,

easy—only start her like grim death and grinning devils, and raise the

buried dead perpendicular out of their graves, boys—that’s all. Start

her!”

“Woo-hoo! Wa-hee!” screamed the Gay-Header in reply, raising some old

war-whoop to the skies; as every oarsman in the strained boat

involuntarily bounced forward with the one tremendous leading stroke

which the eager Indian gave.

But his wild screams were answered by others quite as wild. “Kee-hee!

Kee-hee!” yelled Daggoo, straining forwards and backwards on his seat,

like a pacing tiger in his cage.

“Ka-la! Koo-loo!” howled Queequeg, as if smacking his lips over a

mouthful of Grenadier’s steak. And thus with oars and yells the keels

cut the sea. Meanwhile, Stubb retaining his place in the van, still

encouraged his men to the onset, all the while puffing the smoke from

his mouth. Like desperadoes they tugged and they strained, till the

welcome cry was heard—“Stand up, Tashtego!—give it to him!” The harpoon

was hurled. “Stern all!” The oarsmen backed water; the same moment

something went hot and hissing along every one of their wrists. It was

the magical line. An instant before, Stubb had swiftly caught two

additional turns with it round the loggerhead, whence, by reason of its

increased rapid circlings, a hempen blue smoke now jetted up and

mingled with the steady fumes from his pipe. As the line passed round

and round the loggerhead; so also, just before reaching that point, it

blisteringly passed through and through both of Stubb’s hands, from

which the hand-cloths, or squares of quilted canvas sometimes worn at

these times, had accidentally dropped. It was like holding an enemy’s

sharp two-edged sword by the blade, and that enemy all the time

striving to wrest it out of your clutch.

“Wet the line! wet the line!” cried Stubb to the tub oarsman (him

seated by the tub) who, snatching off his hat, dashed sea-water into

it.* More turns were taken, so that the line began holding its place.

The boat now flew through the boiling water like a shark all fins.

Stubb and Tashtego here changed places—stem for stern—a staggering

business truly in that rocking commotion.

*Partly to show the indispensableness of this act, it may here be

stated, that, in the old Dutch fishery, a mop was used to dash the

running line with water; in many other ships, a wooden piggin, or

bailer, is set apart for that purpose. Your hat, however, is the most

convenient.

From the vibrating line extending the entire length of the upper part

of the boat, and from its now being more tight than a harpstring, you

would have thought the craft had two keels—one cleaving the water, the

other the air—as the boat churned on through both opposing elements at

once. A continual cascade played at the bows; a ceaseless whirling eddy

in her wake; and, at the slightest motion from within, even but of a

little finger, the vibrating, cracking craft canted over her spasmodic

gunwale into the sea. Thus they rushed; each man with might and main

clinging to his seat, to prevent being tossed to the foam; and the tall

form of Tashtego at the steering oar crouching almost double, in order

to bring down his centre of gravity. Whole Atlantics and Pacifics

seemed passed as they shot on their way, till at length the whale

somewhat slackened his flight.

“Haul in—haul in!” cried Stubb to the bowsman! and, facing round

towards the whale, all hands began pulling the boat up to him, while

yet the boat was being towed on. Soon ranging up by his flank, Stubb,

firmly planting his knee in the clumsy cleat, darted dart after dart

into the flying fish; at the word of command, the boat alternately

sterning out of the way of the whale’s horrible wallow, and then

ranging up for another fling.

The red tide now poured from all sides of the monster like brooks down

a hill. His tormented body rolled not in brine but in blood, which

bubbled and seethed for furlongs behind in their wake. The slanting sun

playing upon this crimson pond in the sea, sent back its reflection

into every face, so that they all glowed to each other like red men.

And all the while, jet after jet of white smoke was agonizingly shot

from the spiracle of the whale, and vehement puff after puff from the

mouth of the excited headsman; as at every dart, hauling in upon his

crooked lance (by the line attached to it), Stubb straightened it again

and again, by a few rapid blows against the gunwale, then again and

again sent it into the whale.

“Pull up—pull up!” he now cried to the bowsman, as the waning whale

relaxed in his wrath. “Pull up!—close to!” and the boat ranged along

the fish’s flank. When reaching far over the bow, Stubb slowly churned

his long sharp lance into the fish, and kept it there, carefully

churning and churning, as if cautiously seeking to feel after some gold

watch that the whale might have swallowed, and which he was fearful of

breaking ere he could hook it out. But that gold watch he sought was

the innermost life of the fish. And now it is struck; for, starting

from his trance into that unspeakable thing called his “flurry,” the

monster horribly wallowed in his blood, overwrapped himself in

impenetrable, mad, boiling spray, so that the imperilled craft,

instantly dropping astern, had much ado blindly to struggle out from

that phrensied twilight into the clear air of the day.

And now abating in his flurry, the whale once more rolled out into

view; surging from side to side; spasmodically dilating and contracting

his spout-hole, with sharp, cracking, agonized respirations. At last,

gush after gush of clotted red gore, as if it had been the purple lees

of red wine, shot into the frighted air; and falling back again, ran

dripping down his motionless flanks into the sea. His heart had burst!

“He’s dead, Mr. Stubb,” said Daggoo.

“Yes; both pipes smoked out!” and withdrawing his own from his mouth,

Stubb scattered the dead ashes over the water; and, for a moment, stood

thoughtfully eyeing the vast corpse he had made.