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- Герман Мелвилл
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- Моби Дик
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"
'
What
are
you
making
there
?
'
said
a
shipmate
.
"
'
What
do
you
think
?
what
does
it
look
like
?
'
"
'
Like
a
lanyard
for
your
bag
;
but
it
's
an
odd
one
,
seems
to
me
.
'
'
Yes
,
rather
oddish
,
'
said
the
Lakeman
,
holding
it
at
arm
's
length
before
him
;
'
but
I
think
it
will
answer
.
Shipmate
,
I
have
n't
enough
twine
--
have
you
any
?
'
"
But
there
was
none
in
the
forecastle
.
"
'
Then
I
must
get
some
from
old
Rad
;
'
and
he
rose
to
go
aft
.
"
'
You
do
n't
mean
to
go
a
begging
to
him
!
'
said
a
sailor
.
"
'
Why
not
?
Do
you
think
he
wo
n't
do
me
a
turn
,
when
it
's
to
help
himself
in
the
end
,
shipmate
?
'
and
going
to
the
mate
,
he
looked
at
him
quietly
,
and
asked
him
for
some
twine
to
mend
his
hammock
.
It
was
given
him
--
neither
twine
nor
lanyard
were
seen
again
;
but
the
next
night
an
iron
ball
,
closely
netted
,
partly
rolled
from
the
pocket
of
the
Lakeman
's
monkey
jacket
,
as
he
was
tucking
the
coat
into
his
hammock
for
a
pillow
.
Twenty-four
hours
after
,
his
trick
at
the
silent
helm
--
nigh
to
the
man
who
was
apt
to
doze
over
the
grave
always
ready
dug
to
the
seaman
's
hand
--
that
fatal
hour
was
then
to
come
;
and
in
the
fore-ordaining
soul
of
Steelkilt
,
the
mate
was
already
stark
and
stretched
as
a
corpse
,
with
his
forehead
crushed
in
.
"
But
,
gentlemen
,
a
fool
saved
the
would-be
murderer
from
the
bloody
deed
he
had
planned
.
Yet
complete
revenge
he
had
,
and
without
being
the
avenger
.
For
by
a
mysterious
fatality
,
Heaven
itself
seemed
to
step
in
to
take
out
of
his
hands
into
its
own
the
damning
thing
he
would
have
done
.
