Not long after the incident with the smoking pipe, one morning right after breakfast, Ahab stepped up from the cabin onto the deck.
Most ship captains liked to walk the deck at this hour, much like country gentlemen strolling their gardens after a meal.
You could hear the steady, heavy click‑clack of his ivory leg. He paced back and forth along the same worn path. The planks were dented all over from his constant footsteps, like stone marked by ages of geological pressure.
If you stared hard at his furrowed forehead, you would see another set of marks there‑‑the invisible tracks of one single thought that never let him rest.
That morning, those dents looked deeper. His nervous steps bit harder into the wood. Ahab was so wrapped up inside his own head that every time he turned, first toward the main mast, then toward the compass box, you could almost watch his inner thought turn and pace along with him. His whole body moved just to follow the obsession burning inside him.
“See him, Flask?” Stubb whispered. “That thing inside him is pecking to break free of its shell. It won’t be long now.”
Hours slipped by.
One moment Ahab locked himself away in his cabin. The next, he was back out pacing the deck, his face hard with that same single‑minded drive.
As daylight started to fade, he suddenly stopped beside the ship’s rail. He jammed the end of his ivory leg into a small drilled hole in the wood for balance. Gripping a rope stay with one hand, he gave an order.
“Starbuck, get every man aft.”
“Sir?” The first mate was shocked. That command was almost never given, except for some serious emergency.
“Get everybody aft,” Ahab repeated. “You men up in the mast‑heads! Climb down!”
The whole crew gathered. They stared at him with curious, uneasy faces. Ahab looked like a dark, roiling horizon right before a storm blows in.
He glanced quickly out over the ocean, then swept his eyes across all his men. Then he turned away and started his heavy pacing again, as if nobody else stood there at all.
His head hung low, his hat pulled half over his eyes. He paid no mind to the quiet, confused murmurs running through the crew.
Stubb leaned over and whispered to Flask. “He called us all out here just to watch him take a walk, I think.”
That did not last long.
Ahab halted sharply and shouted.
“What do you do when you spot a whale, men?”
“Shout out to report it!” A dozen voices called out all at once.
“Good!” Ahab cried. Wild excitement rang in his voice. He loved seeing how his sudden question fired them all up.
“And what do you do next?”
“Lower the boats and go after him!”
“And what’s the cry you shout as you pull the oars?”
“Either a dead whale or a smashed boat!”
With every loud answer, the old captain’s face grew stranger, fiercer, more pleased. The sailors glanced at one another, confused. They wondered why they felt so stirred up by these simple, pointless‑sounding questions.
Ahab twisted his weight on his bone leg planted in that hole. He reached high and clamped one hand tight around a rope stay, his knuckles almost white. He addressed the whole crew.
“You lookouts up the masts have all heard me talk about a white whale before. Now look here. Do you see this Spanish gold coin?”
He held up a wide, shiny gold piece toward the sunlight.
“It is worth sixteen dollars, men. You see it? Mr. Starbuck, hand me that big driving hammer over there.”
While Starbuck fetched the hammer, Ahab rubbed the gold coin slowly against the hem of his jacket, polishing it to make it glint brighter. Under his breath he hummed a low, muffled, wordless noise. It sounded like the grinding whir of some machine running inside his body.
He took the heavy hammer from Starbuck. He walked to the main mast, hammer raised in one hand, holding the gold coin high in the other. He called out at the top of his voice.
“Whoever among you first spots that white whale‑‑the one with the wrinkled forehead and crooked jaw! Whoever spots that white whale with three puncture holes on his right tail fluke! Whoever finds that exact whale gets this gold ounce, my boys!”
“Hooray! Hooray!” The sailors cheered. They waved tarpaulins as they watched him nail the gold coin firmly to the mast.
Ahab tossed the hammer aside.
“I am talking about a white whale,” he went on. “Keep your eyes peeled for him. Watch for patches of white foam. Even if you only see a bubble, you yell out.”
Tashtego, Daggoo and Queequeg had been watching everything, even more fascinated and surprised than the rest of the crew. When he mentioned the wrinkled brow and crooked jaw, all three of them jerked, as if each one had just been hit by a sharp memory.
“Captain Ahab,” Tashtego said. “That white whale must be the one some men call Moby Dick.”
“Moby Dick?” Ahab roared. “You know of this white whale, Tash?”
“Sir, does he flip his tail in that strange way just before he dives under?” the Native American asked slowly.
“And his spout is odd too,” Daggoo added. “Extra bushy for a sperm whale, and it shoots up very fast, Captain Ahab.”
“And he has one, two, three‑‑so many old harpoon irons stuck deep in his skin, Captain!” Queequeg blurted. He fumbled for words, twisting his hand round and round like he was trying to unscrew a bottle cork. “Like‑‑like‑‑”
“Like a corkscrew!” Ahab shouted. “Yes, Queequeg! Those harpoons are all twisted and bent inside him. Daggoo, his spout rises like a whole bundle of wheat, white as piles of wool after a big Nantucket sheep shearing. Tashtego, he whips his tail like a torn sail in a squall. Damn it all, men! The whale you are thinking of is Moby Dick! Moby Dick! Moby Dick!”
Starbuck had been watching his captain, growing more and more baffled. Now a thought hit him that explained everything.
“Captain Ahab,” he said. “I have heard tales of Moby Dick. Was it Moby Dick who took your leg away?”
“Who told you that?” Ahab snapped. Then he paused.
“Yes, Starbuck. Yes, all of you. It was Moby Dick who wrecked me. Moby Dick left me standing on this useless bone stump. Yes, yes!” He let out a terrible, raw animal groan, like a wounded moose crying out in agony. “That cursed white whale destroyed me. Left me crippled for the rest of my days!”
He threw both arms wide and screamed his curses across the deck.
“I will chase him round the Cape of Good Hope, round Cape Horn, through the deadly Norwegian whirlpool, and straight through the fires of hell before I give up on him! This is what you all signed on for, men! Hunt that white whale across every sea on earth, until he spouts black blood and rolls over dead. What do you say? Will you swear to it right now? You look brave enough to me.”
“Aye! Aye!” The harpooners and sailors surged closer toward the fired‑up old captain. “We will keep sharp eyes for the white whale! Sharp lances for Moby Dick!”
Ahab half sobbed, half shouted.
“God bless you all. Steward! Bring out the big tankard of rum.‑‑But why the long face, Mr. Starbuck? Are you not willing to hunt Moby Dick? Do you lack the stomach for him?”
“I would face his crooked jaw, and even the jaws of death itself, Captain Ahab, if it came as part of our regular whaling work. But I came aboard to hunt whales‑‑not to carry out my captain’s personal revenge. Even if you kill him, how many barrels of oil will your vengeance bring you? It will not sell for much on the Nantucket market.”
“Nantucket market! Bah! Come closer, Starbuck. You need to look deeper than simple profit. If money was the only measure, imagine accountants wrapping the whole globe in gold coins, one every fraction of an inch. Then I tell you‑‑my vengeance would fetch a huge price indeed!”
“He pounds his own chest,” Stubb whispered to Flask. “Sounds loud, but hollow inside, if you ask me.”
“Take revenge on a dumb brute!” Starbuck cried out. “That whale only struck you by blind animal instinct! This is madness. To rage against a mindless creature, Captain‑‑that borders on sacrilege.”
“Listen to me again‑‑dig a little deeper. All the things you see out in the world are nothing but thin cardboard masks. But behind every event, every real act, some unknown thinking force shows itself through that unthinking outer mask. If a man must strike something, strike straight through that mask! How does a prisoner escape except by smashing through the wall? To me, that white whale is that wall, pushed right up against me. Sometimes I wonder if there is even anything behind it. But that hardly matters. He torments me. He crushes me. I see enormous strength in him, driven by some unknowable malice. That hidden, unreadable thing is what I truly hate. Whether Moby Dick is just its tool, or its very self‑‑I will pour all my hatred onto him. Do not talk to me of sacrilege. I would strike down the sun itself if it insulted me. If the sun can wrong me, then I have every right to strike back. There is a rough fairness in all creation. But that fairness is not my master. Who rules over me? Truth has no boundaries. Stop staring at me! Your dull stare is worse than a demon’s glare!”
Ahab’s face flushed hot, then paled.
“You grow angry. My fire has stirred your anger. But words spoken in heat do not always hold true. Some men take fiery words as an insult. I did not mean to provoke you. Let that pass. Look out there‑‑see those tawny‑skinned foreign lands painted by sunlight. Wild pagan leopards‑‑creatures that just live, hunt, feel fierce hot life, and ask no questions. Look at the crew, Starbuck! Are they not all on my side in this hunt? Look at Stubb‑‑he is grinning! Look at that Chilean sailor over there‑‑he snorts at the thought of the chase. You cannot stand alone against this whole storm of feeling, Starbuck, like one thin sapling in a gale. Think about it. All you have to do is help stab a whale’s fin. That is no great feat for you. Every ordinary sailor is already gripping his sharpening stone. I see it working on you. The tide is lifting you along. Speak‑‑say something! Your silence says it all.”
He muttered under his breath.
“Some force blew out from my very pores, and he breathed it in. Starbuck is mine now. He cannot oppose me without starting mutiny.”
“God protect me‑‑protect all of us,” Starbuck whispered quietly to himself.
Ahab was too caught up in his quiet victory over the mate to hear that grim prayer.
He did not catch the faint laugh rising up from below decks. He paid no notice to the ominous hum of wind in the ship’s rigging, nor the way the sails flapped hollow for a heartbeat, as if even they felt a sinking dread.
Starbuck lifted his eyes again, stubborn life still burning inside him. The distant laugh died. The wind kept blowing. The sails filled. The ship rolled onward just as before.
Oh those warnings and dark premonitions! Why do they never stay? They are less warnings than shadows that confirm what already lives inside our hearts. Outside forces barely push us. The inner compulsions of our own souls drive us forward.
“The rum tankard! Bring it here!” Ahab called.
He took the brimming pewter jug. He told the three harpooners to bring their weapons. They lined up near the capstan holding their harpoons. The three mates stood beside Ahab with their lances. The rest of the crew formed a big circle all around them.
Ahab’s sharp gaze scanned every single man. The sailors’ wild eyes met his, much like prairie wolves locking eyes with their pack leader before charging bison‑‑only to run straight into an Indian trap.
“Drink and pass!” he shouted, handing the heavy jug to the nearest sailor. “Only the crew drinks now. Pass it around! Small sips, deep swallows, men. This burns hot as hellfire. Good, keep it moving. It courses through your veins, sharp as serpent fangs. Almost empty. Send it back to me. Steward, fill it up again!”
“Listen closely, my brave men. I have gathered you all around this capstan. Mates, stand at my sides with your lances. Harpooners, hold your irons. All you sailors, close the circle. I mean to bring back an old noble custom from the whalemen who came before me.‑‑Ha, boy, you are back already. Give me that jug. You fidget like a man with fever. Get that shaking out of you!”
“Step forward, mates! Cross your lances right here in front of me. Perfect. Let me grip where they cross.”
He stretched his arm out and seized the spot where the three lances intersected. His hands twitched nervously. His eyes darted from Starbuck to Stubb, then to Flask. It was as if he hoped to blast the burning passion inside himself straight into them, like static electricity building in a jar.
The three mates shrank back under his intense, strange stare. Stubb and Flask looked away. Starbuck’s honest eyes dropped toward the deck.
“It does not work!” Ahab cried. “But perhaps that is for the best. If the three of you had taken that full jolt, all that fire inside me might have drained away. It might even have killed you. Maybe you do not need it. Lower your lances.”
“Now, mates. I name you three cup‑bearers for my three pagan brothers over there‑‑those honourable, brave harpooners. Do you scorn this task? Think of the Pope washing beggars’ feet, using his own ceremonial crown as a water jug. Rise to this. I am not ordering you‑‑you will choose to do it. Harpooners, unship your iron heads!”
Silently obeying, the three harpooners held up the three‑foot metal points of their harpoons, barbs facing upward.
“Do not stab anyone with those sharp blades! Tip them over! You know which end is the hollow socket! Turn the sockets upward. There we go. Cup‑bearers, come forward. Take hold of those irons. Hold them steady while I pour.”
He moved slowly from one officer to the next, filling each hollow harpoon socket full of burning rum from the big pewter jug.
“Now you stand, three and three. These are your deadly drinking cups. Pass them. You are all bound together by this unbreakable oath. Ha, Starbuck‑‑the deed is done. The sun up above bears witness to this pact. Drink, you harpooners! Drink and swear‑‑you men who stand in the bows of death‑dealing whaleboats! Death to Moby Dick! May God hunt us all if we do not hunt Moby Dick to his end!”
The long, barbed steel cups went up. With shouts and curses aimed at the white whale, they all drank the fiery liquor in one sharp hiss.
Starbuck turned away, pale and shivering.
The refilled jug went one more time around the wild‑eyed crew. Ahab waved his hand, and the men scattered. Then he walked back into his cabin.