Chapter CXV: THE PEQUOD MEETS THE BACHELOR
And jolly enough were the sights and the sounds that came bearing down
before the wind, some few weeks after Ahab's harpoon had been welded.
It was a Nantucket ship, the Bachelor, which had just wedged in her
last cask of oil, and bolted down her bursting hatches; and now, in
glad holiday apparel, was joyously, though somewhat vain-gloriously,
sailing round among the widely-separated ships on the ground, previous
to pointing her prow for home. The three men at her mast-head wore
long streamers of narrow red bunting at their hats; from the stern, a
whale-boat was suspended, bottom down; and hanging captive from the
bowsprit was seen the long lower jaw of the last whale they had slain.
Signals, ensigns, and jacks of all colors were flying from her
rigging, on every side. Sideways lashed in each of her three basketed
tops were two barrels of sperm; above which, in her top-mast
cross-trees, you saw slender breakers of the same precious fluid; and
nailed to her main truck was a brazen lamp. As was afterwards
learned, the bachelor had met with the most surprising success; all
the more wonderful, for that while cruising in the same seas numerous
other vessels had gone entire months without securing a single
fish. Not only had barrels of beef and bread been given away to make
room for the far more valuable sperm, but additional supplemental
casks had been bartered for, from the ships she had met; and these
were stowed along the deck, and in the captain's and officers'
staterooms. Even the cabin table itself had been knocked into
kindling-wood; and the cabin mess dined off the broad head of an
oil-butt, lashed down to the floor for a centrepiece. In the
forecastle, the sailors had actually caulked and pitched their chests,
and filled them; it was humorously added, that the cook had clapped a
head on his largest boiler, and filled it; that the steward had
plugged his spare coffee-pot and filled it; that the harpooneers had
headed the sockets of their irons and filled them; that indeed
everything was filled with sperm, except the captain's pantaloons
pockets, and those he reserved to thrust his hands into, in
self-complacent testimony of his entire satisfaction. As this glad
ship of good luck bore down upon the moody Pequod, the barbarian sound
of enormous drums came from her forecastle; and drawing still nearer,
a crowd of her men were seen standing round her huge try-pots, which,
covered with the parchment-like poke or stomach skin of the black
fish, gave forth a loud roar to every stroke of the clenched hands of
the crew. On the quarter-deck, the mates and harpooneers were dancing
with the olive-hued girls who had eloped with them from the Polynesian
Isles; while suspended in an ornamented boat, firmly secured aloft
between the foremast and mainmast, three Long Island negroes, with
glittering fiddle-bows of whale ivory, were presiding over the
hilarious jig. Meanwhile, others of the ship's company were
tumultuously busy at the masonry of the try-works, from which the huge
pots had been removed. You would have almost thought they were
pulling down the cursed Bastile, such wild cries they raised, as the
now useless brick and mortar were being hurled into the sea. Lord and
master over all this scene, the captain stood erect on the ship's
elevated quarter-deck, so that the whole rejoicing drama was full
before him, and seemed merely contrived for his own individual
diversion. And Ahab, he too was standing on his quarter-deck, shaggy
and black, with a stubborn gloom; and as the two ships crossed each
other's wakes --one all jubilations for things passed, the other all
forebodings as to things to come --their two captains in themselves
impersonated the whole striking contrast of the scene.
Come aboard, come aboard! cried the gay Bachelor's commander, lifting
a glass and a bottle in the air. Hast seen the White Whale? gritted
Ahab in reply. No; only heard of him; but don't believe in him at
all, said the other good-humoredly. Come aboard! Thou are too damned
jolly. Sail on. Hast lost any men? Not enough to speak of --two
islanders, that's all; --but come aboard, old hearty, come along.
I'll soon take that black from your brow. Come along, will ye
(merry's the play); a full ship and homeward-bound. How wondrous
familiar is a fool! muttered Ahab; then aloud, Thou art a full ship
and homeward bound, thou sayest; well, then, call me an empty ship,
and outward-bound. So go thy ways, and I will mine. Forward there!
Set all sail, and keep her to the wind! And thus, while the one ship
went cheerily before the breeze, the other stubbornly fought against
it; and so the two vessels parted; the crew of the Pequod looking with
grave, lingering glances towards the receding Bachelor; but the
Bachelor's men never heeding their gaze for the lively revelry they
were in. And as Ahab, leaning over the taffrail, eyed the
homeward-bound craft, he took from his pocket a small vial of sand,
and then looking from the ship to the vial, seemed thereby bringing
two remote associations together, for that vial was filled with
Nantucket soundings.