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- Герман Мелвилл
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- Моби Дик
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- Стр. 117/297
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Days
,
weeks
passed
,
and
under
easy
sail
,
the
ivory
Pequod
had
slowly
swept
across
four
several
cruising-grounds
;
off
the
Azores
;
off
the
Cape
de
Verdes
;
on
the
Plate
(
so
called
)
,
being
off
the
mouth
of
the
Rio
de
la
Plata
;
and
the
Carrol
Ground
,
an
unstaked
,
watery
locality
,
southerly
from
St.
Helena
.
It
was
while
gliding
through
these
latter
waters
that
one
serene
and
moonlight
night
,
when
all
the
waves
rolled
by
like
scrolls
of
silver
;
and
,
by
their
soft
,
suffusing
seethings
,
made
what
seemed
a
silvery
silence
,
not
a
solitude
;
on
such
a
silent
night
a
silvery
jet
was
seen
far
in
advance
of
the
white
bubbles
at
the
bow
.
Lit
up
by
the
moon
,
it
looked
celestial
;
seemed
some
plumed
and
glittering
god
uprising
from
the
sea
.
Fedallah
first
descried
this
jet
.
For
of
these
moonlight
nights
,
it
was
his
wont
to
mount
to
the
main-mast
head
,
and
stand
a
look-out
there
,
with
the
same
precision
as
if
it
had
been
day
.
And
yet
,
though
herds
of
whales
were
seen
by
night
,
not
one
whaleman
in
a
hundred
would
venture
a
lowering
for
them
.
You
may
think
with
what
emotions
,
then
,
the
seamen
beheld
this
old
Oriental
perched
aloft
at
such
unusual
hours
;
his
turban
and
the
moon
,
companions
in
one
sky
.
But
when
,
after
spending
his
uniform
interval
there
for
several
successive
nights
without
uttering
a
single
sound
;
when
,
after
all
this
silence
,
his
unearthly
voice
was
heard
announcing
that
silvery
,
moon-lit
jet
,
every
reclining
mariner
started
to
his
feet
as
if
some
winged
spirit
had
lighted
in
the
rigging
,
and
hailed
the
mortal
crew
.
"
There
she
blows
!
"
Had
the
trump
of
judgment
blown
,
they
could
not
have
quivered
more
;
yet
still
they
felt
no
terror
;
rather
pleasure
.
For
though
it
was
a
most
unwonted
hour
,
yet
so
impressive
was
the
cry
,
and
so
deliriously
exciting
,
that
almost
every
soul
on
board
instinctively
desired
a
lowering
.
Walking
the
deck
with
quick
,
side-lunging
strides
,
Ahab
commanded
the
t
'
gallant
sails
and
royals
to
be
set
,
and
every
stunsail
spread
.
The
best
man
in
the
ship
must
take
the
helm
.
Then
,
with
every
mast-head
manned
,
the
piled-up
craft
rolled
down
before
the
wind
.
The
strange
,
upheaving
,
lifting
tendency
of
the
taffrail
breeze
filling
the
hollows
of
so
many
sails
,
made
the
buoyant
,
hovering
deck
to
feel
like
air
beneath
the
feet
;
while
still
she
rushed
along
,
as
if
two
antagonistic
influences
were
struggling
in
her
--
one
to
mount
direct
to
heaven
,
the
other
to
drive
yawingly
to
some
horizontal
goal
.
And
had
you
watched
Ahab
's
face
that
night
,
you
would
have
thought
that
in
him
also
two
different
things
were
warring
.
While
his
one
live
leg
made
lively
echoes
along
the
deck
,
every
stroke
of
his
dead
limb
sounded
like
a
coffin-tap
.
On
life
and
death
this
old
man
walked
.
But
though
the
ship
so
swiftly
sped
,
and
though
from
every
eye
,
like
arrows
,
the
eager
glances
shot
,
yet
the
silvery
jet
was
no
more
seen
that
night
.
Every
sailor
swore
he
saw
it
once
,
but
not
a
second
time
.
This
midnight-spout
had
almost
grown
a
forgotten
thing
,
when
,
some
days
after
,
lo
!
at
the
same
silent
hour
,
it
was
again
announced
:
again
it
was
descried
by
all
;
but
upon
making
sail
to
overtake
it
,
once
more
it
disappeared
as
if
it
had
never
been
.
And
so
it
served
us
night
after
night
,
till
no
one
heeded
it
but
to
wonder
at
it
.
Mysteriously
jetted
into
the
clear
moonlight
,
or
starlight
,
as
the
case
might
be
;
disappearing
again
for
one
whole
day
,
or
two
days
,
or
three
;
and
somehow
seeming
at
every
distinct
repetition
to
be
advancing
still
further
and
further
in
our
van
,
this
solitary
jet
seemed
for
ever
alluring
us
on
.
Nor
with
the
immemorial
superstition
of
their
race
,
and
in
accordance
with
the
preternaturalness
,
as
it
seemed
,
which
in
many
things
invested
the
Pequod
,
were
there
wanting
some
of
the
seamen
who
swore
that
whenever
and
wherever
descried
;
at
however
remote
times
,
or
in
however
far
apart
latitudes
and
longitudes
,
that
unnearable
spout
was
cast
by
one
selfsame
whale
;
and
that
whale
,
Moby
Dick
.
For
a
time
,
there
reigned
,
too
,
a
sense
of
peculiar
dread
at
this
flitting
apparition
,
as
if
it
were
treacherously
beckoning
us
on
and
on
,
in
order
that
the
monster
might
turn
round
upon
us
,
and
rend
us
at
last
in
the
remotest
and
most
savage
seas
.
These
temporary
apprehensions
,
so
vague
but
so
awful
,
derived
a
wondrous
potency
from
the
contrasting
serenity
of
the
weather
,
in
which
,
beneath
all
its
blue
blandness
,
some
thought
there
lurked
a
devilish
charm
,
as
for
days
and
days
we
voyaged
along
,
through
seas
so
wearily
,
lonesomely
mild
,
that
all
space
,
in
repugnance
to
our
vengeful
errand
,
seemed
vacating
itself
of
life
before
our
urn-like
prow
.
But
,
at
last
,
when
turning
to
the
eastward
,
the
Cape
winds
began
howling
around
us
,
and
we
rose
and
fell
upon
the
long
,
troubled
seas
that
are
there
;
when
the
ivory-tusked
Pequod
sharply
bowed
to
the
blast
,
and
gored
the
dark
waves
in
her
madness
,
till
,
like
showers
of
silver
chips
,
the
foamflakes
flew
over
her
bulwarks
;
then
all
this
desolate
vacuity
of
life
went
away
,
but
gave
place
to
sights
more
dismal
than
before
.
Close
to
our
bows
,
strange
forms
in
the
water
darted
hither
and
thither
before
us
;
while
thick
in
our
rear
flew
the
inscrutable
sea-ravens
.
And
every
morning
,
perched
on
our
stays
,
rows
of
these
birds
were
seen
;
and
spite
of
our
hootings
,
for
a
long
time
obstinately
clung
to
the
hemp
,
as
though
they
deemed
our
ship
some
drifting
,
uninhabited
craft
;
a
thing
appointed
to
desolation
,
and
therefore
fit
roosting-place
for
their
homeless
selves
.
And
heaved
and
heaved
,
still
unrestingly
heaved
the
black
sea
,
as
if
its
vast
tides
were
a
conscience
;
and
the
great
mundane
soul
were
in
anguish
and
remorse
for
the
long
sin
and
suffering
it
had
bred
.
Cape
of
Good
Hope
,
do
they
call
ye
?
Rather
Cape
Tormentoto
,
as
called
of
yore
;
for
long
allured
by
the
perfidious
silences
that
before
had
attended
us
,
we
found
ourselves
launched
into
this
tormented
sea
,
where
guilty
beings
transformed
into
those
fowls
and
these
fish
,
seemed
condemned
to
swim
on
everlastingly
without
any
haven
in
store
,
or
beat
that
black
air
without
any
horizon
.
But
calm
,
snow-white
,
and
unvarying
;
still
directing
its
fountain
of
feathers
to
the
sky
;
still
beckoning
us
on
from
before
,
the
solitary
jet
would
at
times
be
descried
.
