Silently obeying the order, the three harpooneers
now stood with the detached iron part of their harpoons,
some three feet long, held, barbs up, before him.
“Stab me not with that keen steel! Cant
them; cant them over! know ye not the goblet end?
Turn up the socket! So, so; now, ye cup-bearers,
advance. The irons! take them; hold them while
I fill!” Forthwith, slowly going from one officer
to the other, he brimmed the harpoon sockets with the
fiery waters from the pewter.
“Now, three to three, ye stand. Commend
the murderous chalices! Bestow them, ye who are
now made parties to this indissoluble league.
Ha! Starbuck! but the deed is done! Yon
ratifying sun now waits to sit upon it. Drink,
ye harpooneers! drink and swear, ye men that man the
deathful whaleboat’s bow— Death to
Moby Dick! God hunt us all, if we do not hunt
Moby Dick to his death!” The long, barbed steel
goblets were lifted; and to cries and maledictions
against the white whale, the spirits were simultaneously
quaffed down with a hiss. Starbuck paled, and
turned, and shivered. Once more, and finally,
the replenished pewter went the rounds among the frantic
crew; when, waving his free hand to them, they all
dispersed; and Ahab retired within his cabin.
Sunset
The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone,
and gazing out.
I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler
cheeks, where’er I sail. The envious billows
sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first
I pass.
Yonder, by the ever-brimming goblet’s rim, the
warm waves blush like wine. The gold brow plumbs
the blue. The diver sun— slow dived
from noon—goes down; my soul mounts up!
she wearies with her endless hill. Is, then,
the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of
Lombardy. Yet is it bright with many a gem;
I the wearer, see not its far flashings; but darkly
feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds.
’Tis iron—that I know—not
gold. ’Tis split, too—that I
feel; the jagged edge galls me so, my brain seems
to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull,
mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering
fight!
Dry heat upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as
the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed.
No more. This lovely light, it lights not me;
all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne’er
enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack
the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most
malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise!
Good night—good night! (waving his hand,
he moves from the window.)
