Chapter 38 Dusk

Abridged Text, followed by Abridger Notes, followed by multimedia, followed by Original Text with deletions.

 

Chapter 38 Dusk

By the Mainmast; Starbuck leaning against it.

 

My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason out of me! I think I see his impious end; but feel that I must help him to it. Will I, nill I, the ineffable thing has tied me to him; tows me with a cable I have no knife to cut. Oh! I plainly see my miserable office,—to obey, rebelling; and worse yet, to hate with touch of pity! For in his eyes I read some lurid woe would shrivel me up, had I it. Yet is there hope. Time and tide flow wide. The hated whale has the round watery world to swim in. His heaven-insulting purpose, God may wedge aside.

 

A burst of revelry from the forecastle

 

Oh, God! to sail with such a heathen crew that have small touch of human mothers in them! The white whale is their demogorgon. Foremost through the sparkling sea shoots on the embattled bow, but only to drag dark Ahab after it. Oh, life! ’tis now that I do feel the latent horror in thee! but ’tis not me! that horror’s out of me! and with the soft feeling of the human in me, yet will I try to fight ye, ye grim, phantom futures! Stand by me, hold me, bind me, O ye blessed influences! 

 

Link to Chapter 39 First Night-Watch Fore-Top.

 

Abridger Notes

 

“My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman!”

 

Nathaniel Philbrick writes, in “Why Read Moby Dick?”

 

“Just like Starbuck, America’s leaders in the 1850s looked at one another with vacant, deer-in-the-headlights stares as the United States, a great and noble country crippled by a lie, slowly but inevitably sailed toward its cataclysmic encounter with the source of its discontents.” (p. 54)

 

If Philbrick’s book hadn’t been published in 2011, one could not be blamed for thinking he was hinting at present day America.

 

I thought that Starbuck’s choice of ‘she’ in reference to his soul was interesting too. I might look into it.


 

Multimedia Chapter 38 Dusk

 

Original Chapter 38 Dusk with Deletions

 

 

By the Mainmast; Starbuck leaning against it.

 

My soul is more than matched; she’s overmanned; and by a madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason out of me! I think I see his impious end; but feel that I must help him to it. Will I, nill I, the ineffable thing has tied me to him; tows me with a cable I have no knife to cut. Horrible old man! Who’s over him, he cries;—aye, he would be a democrat to all above; look, how he lords it over all below! Oh! I plainly see my miserable office,—to obey, rebelling; and worse yet, to hate with touch of pity! For in his eyes I read some lurid woe would shrivel me up, had I it. Yet is there hope. Time and tide flow wide. The hated whale has the round watery world to swim in, as the small gold-fish has its glassy globe. His heaven-insulting purpose, God may wedge aside. I would up heart, were it not like lead. But my whole clock’s run down; my heart the all-controlling weight, I have no key to lift again.    

                                                                  

A burst of revelry from the forecastle

 

Oh, God! to sail with such a heathen crew that have small touch of human mothers in them! Whelped somewhere by the sharkish sea. The white whale is their demogorgon. Hark! the infernal orgies! that revelry is forward! mark the unfaltering silence aft! Methinks it pictures life. Foremost through the sparkling sea shoots on the gay, embattled, bantering bow, but only to drag dark Ahab after it, where he broods within his sternward cabin, builded over the dead water of the wake, and further on, hunted by its wolfish gurglings. The long howl thrills me through! Peace! ye revellers, and set the watch! Oh, life! ’tis in an hour like this, with soul beat down and held to knowledge,—as wild, untutored things are forced to feed—Oh, life! ’tis now that I do feel the latent horror in thee! but ’tis not me! that horror’s out of me! and with the soft feeling of the human in me, yet will I try to fight ye, ye grim, phantom futures! Stand by me, hold me, bind me, O ye blessed influences!


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Preface to Abridging Moby Dick

Image
              I was introduced to the 1956 movie, Moby Dick , as a young kid. I vaguely remember watching it with my father, which added to its gravitas, but it’s a bold, memorable, riveting story and cast of characters that assuredly would have stuck with me anyways. My father gave me the book, the British version as it turns out (see below), for Christmas 1969, with his inscription, which mentioned notable characters from the book that I would likely run across in life, but not Ishmael, perhaps because he saw himself in Ishmael, as do I – I don’t think I would feel entirely at ease with anyone who didn’t recognize some substantial amount of Ismael in themself. I recall reading the book soon after that gift from Dad, and then again in college. I still have it – I am looking at it now. Since then I have learned from and enjoyed the Frank Mueller reading of Moby Dick on Audible, over and over and over again, for more than ...
Read more

Chapter 5 Breakfast

Image
Abridged Text, followed by by Abridger Notes, followed by multimedia, followed by Original Text with deletions .   Chapter 5 Breakfast   I quickly followed suit, and descending into the bar-room accosted the grinning landlord very pleasantly. I cherished no malice towards him, though he had been skylarking with me not a little in the matter of my bedfellow.   However, a good laugh is a mighty good thing, and rather too scarce. So, if any one man, in his own proper person, afford stuff for a good joke to anybody, let him not be backward, but let him cheerfully allow himself to spend and be spent in that way. And the man that has anything bountifully laughable about him, be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.   The bar-room was now full of the boarders, whom I had not as yet had a good look at. They were nearly all whalemen; chief mates, and second mates, and third mates, and sea carpenters, and sea coopers, and sea blacksmiths, and...
Read more

Chapter 1 Loomings

Abridged Text, followed by Images, followed by Abridger Notes, followed by Original Text with deletions . Chapter 1 Loomings   Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flour...
Read more