Ahab's Adventure's In Wonderland; or The Rabbit

Chapter 60

During the most violent shocks of the Typhoon, one man had several times been reelingly hurled to the ground by its spasmodic motions. In a severe storm like this, a person without adequate shelter can be a tossed shuttlecock to the blast, and it is by no means uncommon to see the needles of a compass, at intervals, go round and round.

But just as suddenly as it began, the Typhoon abated. In compliance with the standing order of his commander--to report immediately, and at any one of the twenty-four hours, any decided change in their affairs, the storm had no sooner dissipated than Starbuck turned to apprise Captain Ahab of the circumstance. Although Starbuck's adhesion to the old man's commands in this instance truly seemed excessive, as what was apparent to Starbuck was just as readily apparent to Ahab, as they were standing only a few meters apart, under the wholly inadequate shelter of the Queen's verandah.

Ere speaking out, Starbuck involuntarily paused a moment. An outdoor lantern--taking long swings this way and that--was burning fitfully, and casting fitful shadows upon the old man in the late afternoon light. The foreman noticed that not too distant behind Ahab, a loaded rack of muskets were shiningly revealed, as they stood upright against a wall. Starbuck was an honest, upright man; but out of Starbuck's heart, at that instant when he saw the muskets, there strangely evolved an evil thought; but so blent with its neutral or good accompaniments that for the instant he hardly knew it for itself.

'He would have shot me once,' he murmured, 'yes, there's very like the musket that he pointed at me. Strange, that I, who have handled so many deadly lances, strange, that I should shake so now. Loaded? I must see. Aye, aye; and powder in the pan;--that's not good. Best spill it?--wait. I'll cure myself of this. I'll hold the musket boldly while I think.--I come to report a fair wind to him. But how fair? Fair for death and doom,--that's fair for Moby Dick. It's a fair wind that's only fair for that accursed rabbit.--He would have killed me with the very thing I handle now.--Aye and he would fain kill all his men. But shall this crazed old man be tamely suffered to drag a whole company down to doom with him?--Why he already has, for here we are in the underworld, and if any place could be considered Hell, this is that place. Yes, it would make him a willful murderer, if any of us who follow him come to deadly harm; and come to deadly harm, my soul swears we will, if Ahab have his way. If, then, he were this instant-- put aside, that crime would not be his. The old man is leaning against that trunk. I can't withstand thee, then, old man. Not reasoning; not remonstrance; not entreaty wilt thou hearken to; all this thou scornest. Flat obedience to thy own flat commands, this is all thou breathest. Aye, and say'st the men have vow'd thy vow; say'st all of us are Ahabs. Great God forbid!--But is there no other way? no lawful way?--Make him a prisoner to be taken home? What! hope to wrest this old man's living power from his own living hands? Only a fool would try it. Say he were pinioned even; knotted all over with ropes and hawsers; chained down; he would be more hideous than a caged tiger, then. I could not endure the sight; could not possibly fly his howlings; all comfort, sleep itself, inestimable reason would leave me on the long intolerable journey home. What, then, remains? Who knows how to return, or how deep inside the Earth we have fallen. I stand alone here, with countless furlongs between me and law.--Aye, aye, 'tis so.-- Is heaven a murderer when its lightning strikes a would-be murderer in his bed, tindering sheets and skin together?-- And would I be a murderer, then, if'--and slowly, stealthily, and half sideways looking, he pointed the musket toward Ahab.

'A touch, and Starbuck may survive to hug his wife and child again.--Oh Mary! Mary!--boy! boy! boy!--But if I wake thee not to death, old man, who can tell to what unsounded deeps Starbuck's body this day week may sink, with everyone around us! Great God, where art Thou? Shall I? shall I?'

'Oh Moby Dick, I clutch thy heart at last!'

Such were the sounds that now came hurtling from out the old man's mouth.

The yet leveled musket shook like a drunkard's arm in his hands; Starbuck seemed wrestling with an angel, but turning, he placed the death-tube in its rack, and turned away.