CHAPTER 128
The Pequod Meets The Rachel
Next day, a large ship, the Rachel, was descried, bearing directly down
upon the Pequod, all her spars thickly clustering with men. At the time the
Pequod was making good speed through the water; but as the broad-winged
windward stranger shot nigh to her, the boastful sails all fell together as
blank bladders that are burst, and all life fled from the smitten hull.
“Bad news; she brings bad news,” muttered the old Manxman. But ere
her commander, who, with trumpet to mouth, stood up in his boat; ere he
could hopefully hail, Ahab’s voice was heard.
“Hast seen the White Whale?”
“Aye, yesterday. Have ye seen a whale-boat adrift?”
Throttling his joy, Ahab negatively answered this unexpected question;
and would then have fain boarded the stranger, when the stranger captain
himself, having stopped his vessel’s way, was seen descending her side. A
few keen pulls, and his boat-hook soon clinched the Pequod’s main-chains,
and he sprang to the deck. Immediately he was recognized by Ahab for a
Nantucketer he knew. But no formal salutation was exchanged.
“Where was he?—not killed!—not killed!” cried Ahab, closely
advancing.
“How was it?”
It seemed that somewhat late on the afternoon of the day previous, while
three of the stranger’s boats were engaged with a shoal of whales, which
had led them some four or five miles from the ship; and while they were yet
in swift chase to windward, the white hump and head of Moby Dick had
suddenly loomed up out of the blue water, not very far to leeward;
whereupon, the fourth rigged boat— a reserved one—had been instantly
lowered in chase. After a keen sail before the wind, this fourth boat—the
swiftest keeled of all—seemed to have succeeded in fastening—at least, as
well as the man at the mast-head could tell anything about it. In the distance
he saw the diminished dotted boat; and then a swift gleam of bubbling
white water; and after that nothing more; whence it was concluded that the
stricken whale must have indefinitely run away with his pursuers, as often
happens. There was some apprehension, but no positive alarm, as yet. The
recall signals were placed in the rigging; darkness came on; and forced to
pick up her three far to windward boats—ere going in quest of the fourth
one in the precisely opposite direction— the ship had not only been
necessitated to leave that boat to its fate till near midnight, but, for the time,
to increase her distance from it. But the rest of her crew being at last safe
aboard, she crowded all sail—stunsail on stunsail— after the missing boat;
kindling a fire in her try-pots for a beacon; and every other man aloft on the
look-out. But though when she had thus sailed a sufficient distance to gain
the presumed place of the absent ones when last seen; though she then
paused to lower her spare boats to pull all around her; and not finding
anything, had again dashed on; again paused, and lowered her boats; and
though she had thus continued doing till daylight; yet not the least glimpse
of the missing keel had been seen.
The story told, the stranger Captain immediately went on to reveal his
object in boarding the Pequod. He desired that ship to unite with his own in
the search; by sailing over the sea some four or five miles apart, on parallel
lines, and so sweeping a double horizon, as it were.
“I will wager something now,” whispered Stubb to Flask, “that some one
in that missing boat wore off that Captain’s best coat; mayhap, his watch—
he’s so cursed anxious to get it back. Who ever heard of two pious whale-
ships cruising after one missing whale-boat in the height of the whaling
season? See, Flask, only see how pale he looks— pale in the very buttons of
his eyes—look—it wasn’t the coat— it must have been the-”
“My boy, my own boy is among them. For God’s sake—I beg, I
conjure”— here exclaimed the stranger Captain to Ahab, who thus far had
but icily received his petition. “For eight-and-forty hours let me charter
your ship—I will gladly pay for it, and roundly pay for it— if there be no
other way—for eight-and-forty hours only—only that— you must, oh, you
must, and you shall do this thing.”
“His son!” cried Stubb, “oh, it’s his son he’s lost! I take back the coat and
watch—what says Ahab? We must save that boy.”
“He’s drowned with the rest on ’em, last night,” said the old Manx sailor
standing behind them; “I heard; all of ye heard their spirits.”
Now, as it shortly turned out, what made this incident of the Rachel’s the
more melancholy, was the circumstance, that not only was one of the
Captain’s sons among the number of the missing boat’s crew; but among the
number of the other boats’ crews, at the same time, but on the other hand,
separated from the ship during the dark vicissitudes of the chase, there had
been still another son; as that for a time, the wretched father was plunged to
the bottom of the cruellest perplexity; which was only solved for him by his
chief mate’s instinctively adopting the ordinary procedure of a whaleship in
such emergencies, that is, when placed between jeopardized but divided
boats, always to pick up the majority first. But the captain, for some
unknown constitutional reason, had refrained from mentioning all this, and
not till forced to it by Ahab’s iciness did he allude to his one yet missing
boy; a little lad, but twelve years old, whose father with the earnest but
unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketer’s paternal love, had thus early
sought to initiate him in the perils and wonders of a vocation almost
immemorially the destiny of all his race. Nor does it unfrequently occur,
that Nantucket captains will send a son of such tender age away from them,
for a protracted three or four years’ voyage in some other ship than their
own; so that their first knowledge of a whaleman’s career shall be
unenervated by any chance display of a father’s natural but untimely
partiality, or undue apprehensiveness and concern.
Meantime, now the stranger was still beseeching his poor boon of Ahab;
and Ahab still stood like an anvil, receiving every shock, but without the
least quivering of his own.
“I will not go,” said the stranger, “till you say aye to me. Do to me as you
would have me do to you in the like case. For you too have a boy, Captain
Ahab—though but a child, and nestling safely at home now—a child of
your old age too— Yes, yes, you relent; I see it—run, run, men, now, and
stand by to square in the yards.”
“Avast,” cried Ahab—”touch not a rope-yarn”; then in a voice that
prolongingly moulded every word—”Captain Gardiner, I will not do it.
Even now I lose time, Good-bye, good-bye. God bless ye, man, and may I
forgive myself, but I must go. Mr. Starbuck, look at the binnacle watch, and
in three minutes from this present instant warn off all strangers; then brace
forward again, and let the ship sail as before.”
Hurriedly turning, with averted face, he descended into his cabin, leaving
the strange captain transfixed at this unconditional and utter rejection of his
so earnest suit. But starting from his enchantment, Gardiner silently hurried
to the side; more fell than stepped into his boat, and returned to his ship.
Soon the two ships diverged their wakes; and long as the strange vessel
was in view, she was seen to yaw hither and thither at every dark spot,
however small, on the sea. This way and that her yards were swung around;
starboard and larboard, she continued to tack; now she beat against a head
sea; and again it pushed her before it; while all the while, her masts and
yards were thickly clustered with men, as three tall cherry trees, when the
boys are cherrying among the boughs.
But by her still halting course and winding, woeful way, you plainly saw
that this ship that so wept with spray, still remained without comfort. She
was Rachel, weeping for her children, because they were not.
