By nearly noon, the ship’s riggers had finished their work and left. The Pequod was pulled away from the wharf, and Charity, Bildad’s sister and Peleg’s relative by marriage, came alongside in a small whale-boat with her final gifts. She had brought a nightcap for Stubb, the second mate, and an extra Bible for the steward.
When everything was finally ready, Captains Peleg and Bildad came out of the cabin. Peleg turned to Starbuck, the chief mate.
“Mr. Starbuck, are you sure everything is ready? Captain Ahab is prepared—I just spoke with him. There’s nothing else we need from shore, is there?”
“No, sir.”
“Then call all hands! Get them aft here—blast ’em!”
“There’s no need for foul language, Peleg,” Bildad said. “We’re in a hurry, but there’s still no excuse for it. Go on, Starbuck. Do what we need.”
I found it strange that Peleg and Bildad were still doing all the commanding. We were about to leave port, yet they acted almost as if they were going to command the Pequod together at sea.
Captain Ahab himself was nowhere to be seen. We were told he was still in the cabin.
Apparently, his presence wasn’t considered necessary yet. Getting the ship out of the harbor was the pilot’s job, and Ahab was supposedly still recovering from his illness.
There was nothing especially unusual about that. In merchant ships, captains sometimes stayed below after the anchor was raised, spending a little more time with friends from shore before finally leaving them behind.
But Peleg had no intention of waiting around.
“Aft, you lazy sons of bachelors!” he shouted at the sailors who were still near the mainmast. “Mr. Starbuck, get them moving!”
Then came another familiar order.
“Strike the tent!”
The large whalebone shelter had only been put up while the ship was in port. On the Pequod, everyone knew that taking it down meant the ship would soon be leaving.
“Man the capstan! Blood and thunder—move!”
The sailors immediately grabbed the handspikes and took their positions.
Bildad went forward to handle the pilot’s work. He and Peleg were both licensed harbor pilots, although people suspected Bildad had become one mainly so he could avoid paying pilot fees on the ships in which he had invested.
He almost never piloted ships that had nothing to do with him.
Now he stood near the bow, watching for the anchor as the crew worked at the windlass.
To encourage them, Bildad began singing a slow, gloomy hymn.
The sailors answered with a completely different kind of song, loudly singing about girls from Booble Alley as they worked.
This was rather funny because only three days earlier Bildad had told everyone that no sinful songs were allowed aboard the Pequod, especially while the ship was leaving port.
His sister Charity had even placed a small book of religious hymns in every sailor’s bunk.
Meanwhile, Peleg was supervising the crew from the other end of the ship.
And he was swearing so loudly that I began to wonder whether he might sink the Pequod himself before we even got the anchor up.
I stopped pushing my handspike for a moment and told Queequeg to stop too.
I was beginning to worry about what kind of voyage we had signed up for with a man like Peleg acting as our pilot.
Still, I comforted myself with the thought that perhaps the religious old Bildad would keep us safe.
Then I suddenly felt something sharp hit me from behind.
I turned around and saw Captain Peleg pulling his leg away from me.
That was the first time he kicked me.
“Is that how they work on merchant ships?” he shouted. “Move, you sheep-head! Put your back into it! Why aren’t all of you moving?”
He pointed toward the crew.
“Quohog! Move, you red-whiskered fellow! You in the Scotch cap, move! Green pants, get to work! All of you—move!”
Peleg walked along the windlass, kicking sailors whenever he thought they were too slow.
Bildad continued singing his hymn as calmly as if nothing unusual were happening.
I began to suspect that Peleg had been drinking that day.
At last, the anchor came up.
The sails were raised.
The Pequod began moving away from Nantucket.
It was Christmas Day, and the northern winter had already turned the daylight into darkness. Before long, we were out on the cold Atlantic.
Freezing spray covered the ship with ice, making it look as though we were wearing armor made of glass.
The long teeth of the bulwarks shone in the moonlight, while huge icicles hung from the bow like the white tusks of some enormous elephant.
Bildad took charge of the first watch as our pilot.
Whenever the Pequod plunged into the green waves and icy spray swept across the deck, the wind howled and the ropes rang in the cold.
Through it all, Bildad kept singing steadily:
“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
Stand dressed in living green.”
His voice sounded strangely beautiful to me that night.
The words filled me with hope.
Despite the freezing weather, the violent Atlantic, and my soaking-wet clothes, I suddenly felt that better days were waiting for me somewhere ahead.
I imagined warm fields, green meadows, and peaceful places where spring seemed never to end.
Eventually, we reached open water far enough from shore that the two pilots were no longer needed.
The strong little sailboat that had followed us came alongside to take them back.
This was the moment when I noticed something unexpected.
Neither Peleg nor Bildad seemed eager to leave.
Bildad, especially, looked deeply troubled.
He had spent years and much of his own money in the Pequod. He was leaving the ship on a long and dangerous voyage around the great stormy capes.
An old shipmate of his, Ahab, was its captain.
And although Ahab was almost as old as Bildad, he was once again going out to face the terrible dangers of the sea.
Bildad simply could not bring himself to say goodbye.
He walked anxiously back and forth across the deck.
Then he went down into the cabin to say farewell one more time.
A moment later he came back up.
He looked toward the wind.
Then he looked toward the endless ocean.
He looked toward the distant land.
He looked up at the sky.
Then he looked everywhere and nowhere, as though he could not bear to leave.
Finally, he began mechanically coiling a rope.
Suddenly he grabbed Peleg’s hand tightly.
He raised his lantern and stared into Peleg’s face.
His expression seemed to say, “My old friend, I can bear it. Yes, I can.”
Peleg handled the moment more calmly.
He tried to act like a philosopher who was not troubled by emotion.
But when the lantern came close to his face, I saw a tear shining in his eye.
He too kept moving between the cabin and the deck, saying a few last words below and then talking with Starbuck.
At last, Peleg turned toward Bildad.
“Captain Bildad, come on, old shipmate. We have to go.”
He looked toward the crew.
“Back the main-yard! Boat ahoy! Bring the boat alongside!”
Then he turned back to Bildad.
“Come on, old friend. Say your last goodbyes.”
He called out to the officers.
“Good luck, Starbuck! Good luck, Mr. Stubb! Good luck, Mr. Flask! Goodbye, and good luck to all of you!”
Then he smiled.
“In three years, I’ll have a hot supper waiting for you back in old Nantucket. Now let’s go!”
Bildad lifted his voice softly.
“God bless you all and keep you safe.”
He looked toward the ship.
“I hope you get good weather now. Then Captain Ahab should soon be able to come up on deck and join you. All he needs is some warm sunshine, and you’ll have plenty of that once you reach the tropics.”
He turned to the officers.
“Be careful when you hunt whales, mates.”
He pointed toward the harpooners.
“And you men, don’t damage the boats for no reason. Good white cedar is expensive, and the price keeps going up.”
He paused.
“And don’t forget your prayers.”
Then he remembered something else.
“Mr. Starbuck, make sure the cooper doesn’t waste the spare wooden staves.”
Another thought came to him.
“Oh, and the sail needles are in the green locker!”
He continued without stopping.
“And don’t go hunting whales too much on Sundays. But if a good opportunity comes along, don’t throw it away either. That would mean refusing a gift from Heaven.”
He turned to Stubb.
“Mr. Stubb, keep an eye on that barrel of molasses. I thought it was leaking a little.”
Then he looked at Flask.
“If you stop at the islands, Mr. Flask, stay away from temptation.”
He waved goodbye.
“Goodbye! Goodbye!”
Then another worry suddenly occurred to him.
“Mr. Starbuck, don’t leave that cheese in the hold too long. It’ll spoil. And be careful with the butter—it cost twenty cents a pound, and remember—”
“Come on, Bildad!” Peleg interrupted. “Enough talking. We’re leaving!”
With that, Peleg hurried Bildad over the side of the ship.
Both men climbed into the waiting boat.
The Pequod and the small boat slowly moved apart.
The cold, damp night wind passed between them.
A gull screamed overhead.
Both vessels rolled heavily on the dark waves.
We gave them three sad cheers.
Then the Pequod turned toward the open sea, and we plunged blindly into the vast, lonely Atlantic, as helpless before our fate as anyone could be.