Moby Dick

Now in getting under weigh, the station generally occupied
by the pilot is the forward part of the ship.  And here Bildad,
who, with Peleg, be it known, in addition to his other offices,
was one of the licensed pilots of the port--he being suspected
to have got himself made a pilot in order to save the Nantucket
pilot-fee to all the ships he was concerned in, for he never
piloted any other craft--Bildad, I say, might now be seen actively
engaged in looking over the bows for the approaching anchor,
and at intervals singing what seemed a dismal stave of psalmody,
to cheer the hands at the windlass, who roared forth some sort
of a chorus about the girls in Booble Alley, with hearty good will.
Nevertheless, not three days previous, Bildad had told them
that no profane songs would be allowed on board the Pequod,
particularly in getting under weigh; and Charity, his sister,
had placed a small choice copy of Watts in each seaman's berth.

Meantime, overseeing the other part of the ship, Captain Peleg
ripped and swore astern in the most frightful manner.
I almost thought he would sink the ship before the anchor could
be got up; involuntarily I paused on my handspike, and told
Queequeg to do the same, thinking of the perils we both ran,
in starting on the voyage with such a devil for a pilot.
I was comforting myself, however, with the thought that in pious
Bildad might be found some salvation, spite of his seven hundred
and seventy-seventh lay; when I felt a sudden sharp poke in my rear,
and turning round, was horrified at the apparition of Captain Peleg
in the act of withdrawing his leg from my immediate vicinity.
That was my first kick.

"Is that the way they heave in the marchant service?" he roared.
"Spring, thou sheep-head; spring, and break thy backbone!  Why don't
ye spring, I say, all of ye--spring!  Quohog! spring, thou chap with
the red whiskers; spring there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou green pants.
Spring, I say, all of ye, and spring your eyes out!"  And so saying,
he moved along the windlass, here and there using his leg very freely,
while imperturbable Bildad kept leading off with his psalmody.
Thinks I, Captain Peleg must have been drinking something to-day.

At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided.
It was a short, cold Christmas; and as the short northern day merged
into night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean,
whose freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor.
The long rows of teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight;
and like the white ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curving
icicles depended from the bows.

Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the first watch, and ever and anon,
as the old craft deep dived into the green seas, and sent the shivering
frost all over her, and the winds howled, and the cordage rang,
his steady notes were heard,--

             "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
                Stand dressed in living green.
              So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
                While Jordan rolled between."


Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then.
They were full of hope and fruition.  Spite of this frigid winter night
in the boisterous Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket,
there was yet, it then seemed to me, many a pleasant haven in store;
and meads and glades so eternally vernal, that the grass shot up
by the spring, untrodden, unwilted, remains at midsummer.

At last we gained such an offing, that the two pilots were
needed no longer.  The stout sail-boat that had accompanied us
began ranging alongside.

It was curious and not unpleasing, how Peleg and Bildad were
affected at this juncture, especially Captain Bildad.  For loath
to depart, yet; very loath to leave, for good, a ship bound
on so long and perilous a voyage--beyond both stormy Capes;
a ship in which some thousands of his hardearned dollars
were invested; a ship, in which an old shipmate sailed as captain;
a man almost as old as he, once more starting to encounter
all the terrors of the pitiless jaw; loath to say good-bye
to a thing so every way brimful of every interest to him,--
poor old Bildad lingered long; paced the deck with anxious strides;
ran down into the cabin to speak another farewell word there;
again came on deck, and looked to windward; looked towards
the wide and endless waters, only bounded by the far-off unseen
Eastern Continents; looked towards the land; looked aloft;
looked right and left; looked everywhere and nowhere;
and at last, mechanically coiling a rope upon its pin,
convulsively grasped stout Peleg by the hand, and holding up
a lantern, for a moment stood gazing heroically in his face,
as much as to say, "Nevertheless, friend Peleg, I can stand it;
yes, I can."

As for Peleg himself, he took it more like a philosopher;
but for all his philosophy, there was a tear twinkling in his eye,
when the lantern came too near.  And he, too, did not a little
run from the cabin to deck--now a word below, and now a word
with Starbuck, the chief mate.

But, at last, he turned to his comrade, with a final sort of look
about him,--"Captain Bildad--come, old shipmate, we must go.
Back the mainyard there!  Boat ahoy!  Stand by to come
close alongside, now!  Careful, careful!--come, Bildad, boy--
say your last.  Luck to ye, Starbuck--luck to ye, Mr. Stubb--