CHAPTER 22
Merry Christmas
At length, towards noon, upon the final dismissal of the ship's riggers,and after the Pequod had been hauled out from the wharf, and after theever-thoughtful Charity had come off in a whale-boat, with her last gift--a nightcap for Stubb, the second mate, her brother-in-law, and a spareBible for the steward--after all this, the two Captains, Peleg and Bildad,issued from the cabin, and turning to the chief mate, Peleg said:
"Now, Mr. Starbuck, are you sure everything is right?Captain Ahab is all ready--just spoke to him--nothing moreto be got from shore, eh? Well, call all hands, then.Muster 'em aft here--blast 'em!"
"No need of profane words, however great the hurry, Peleg," said Bildad,"but away with thee, friend Starbuck, and do our bidding."
How now! Here upon the very point of starting for the voyage,Captain Peleg and Captain Bildad were going it with a high hand onthe quarter-deck, just as if they were to be joint-commanders at sea,as well as to all appearances in port. And, as for Captain Ahab,no sign of him was yet to be seen; Only, they said he was in the cabin.But then, the idea was, that his presence was by no means necessaryin getting the ship under weigh, and steering her well out to sea.Indeed, as that was not at all his proper business, but the pilot's;and as he was not yet completely recovered--so they said--therefore,Captain Ahab stayed below. And all this seemed natural enough;especially as in the merchant service many captains never showthemselves on deck for a considerable time after heaving up the anchor,but remain over the cabin table, having a farewell merry-making withtheir shore friends, before they quit the ship for good with the pilot.
But there was not much chance to think over the matter, for Captain Pelegwas now all alive. He seemed to do most of the talking and commanding,and not Bildad.
"Aft here, ye sons of bachelors," he cried, as the sailors lingeredat the main-mast. "Mr. Starbuck, drive aft."
"Strike the tent there!"--was the next order. As I hinted before,this whalebone marquee was never pitched except in port;and on board the Pequod, for thirty years, the order to strikethe tent was well known to be the next thing to heavingup the anchor.
"Man the capstan! Blood and thunder!--jump!"--was the next command,and the crew sprang for the handspikes.
Now in getting under weigh, the station generally occupiedby 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 suspectedto have got himself made a pilot in order to save the Nantucketpilot-fee to all the ships he was concerned in, for he neverpiloted any other craft--Bildad, I say, might now be seen activelyengaged 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 sortof a chorus about the girls in Booble Alley, with hearty good will.Nevertheless, not three days previous, Bildad had told themthat 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 Pelegripped and swore astern in the most frightful manner.I almost thought he would sink the ship before the anchor couldbe got up; involuntarily I paused on my handspike, and toldQueequeg 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 piousBildad might be found some salvation, spite of his seven hundredand seventy-seventh lay; when I felt a sudden sharp poke in my rear,and turning round, was horrified at the apparition of Captain Pelegin 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'tye spring, I say, all of ye--spring! Quohog! spring, thou chap withthe 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 mergedinto 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 curvingicicles 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 shiveringfrost 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 nightin 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 upby the spring, untrodden, unwilted, remains at midsummer.
At last we gained such an offing, that the two pilots wereneeded no longer. The stout sail-boat that had accompanied usbegan ranging alongside.
It was curious and not unpleasing, how Peleg and Bildad wereaffected at this juncture, especially Captain Bildad. For loathto depart, yet; very loath to leave, for good, a ship boundon so long and perilous a voyage--beyond both stormy Capes;a ship in which some thousands of his hardearned dollarswere invested; a ship, in which an old shipmate sailed as captain;a man almost as old as he, once more starting to encounterall the terrors of the pitiless jaw; loath to say good-byeto 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 towardsthe wide and endless waters, only bounded by the far-off unseenEastern 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 upa 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 littlerun from the cabin to deck--now a word below, and now a wordwith Starbuck, the chief mate.
But, at last, he turned to his comrade, with a final sort of lookabout him,--"Captain Bildad--come, old shipmate, we must go.Back the mainyard there! Boat ahoy! Stand by to comeclose alongside, now! Careful, careful!--come, Bildad, boy--say your last. Luck to ye, Starbuck--luck to ye, Mr. Stubb--luck to ye, Mr. Flask--good-bye and good luck to ye all--and this day three years I'll have a hot supper smoking for yein old Nantucket. Hurrah and away!"
"God bless ye, and have ye in His holy keeping, men," murmured old Bildad,almost incoherently. "I hope ye'll have fine weather now, so thatCaptain Ahab may soon be moving among ye--a pleasant sun is all he needs,and ye'll have plenty of them in the tropic voyage ye go. Be carefulin the hunt, ye mates. Don't stave the boats needlessly, ye harpooneers;good white cedar plank is raised full three per cent within the year.Don't forget your prayers, either. Mr. Starbuck, mind that cooper don'twaste the spare staves. Oh! the sail-needles are in the green locker.Don't whale it too much a' Lord's days, men; but don't miss a fairchance either, that's rejecting Heaven's good gifts. Have an eyeto the molasses tierce, Mr. Stubb; it was a little leaky, I thought.If ye touch at the islands, Mr. Fl
ask, beware of fornication.Good-bye, good-bye! Don't keep that cheese too long down in the hold,Mr. Starbuck; it'll spoil. Be careful with the butter--twenty centsthe pound it was, and mind ye, if--"
"Come, come, Captain Bildad; stop palavering,--away!" and with that,Peleg hurried him over the side, and both dropt into the boat.
Ship and boat diverged; the cold, damp night breeze blew between;a screaming gull flew overhead; the two hulls wildly rolled;we gave three heavy-hearted cheers, and blindly plunged like fateinto the lone Atlantic.