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- 2026-01-30T20:49:30.771Z
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- 16049
- text
- and, temporarily, Pip was put into his place.
The first time Stubb lowered with him, Pip evinced much nervousness;
but happily, for that time, escaped close contact with the whale; and
therefore came off not altogether discreditably; though Stubb observing
him, took care, afterwards, to exhort him to cherish his courageousness
to the utmost, for he might often find it needful.
Now upon the second lowering, the boat paddled upon the whale; and as
the fish received the darted iron, it gave its customary rap, which
happened, in this instance, to be right under poor Pip’s seat. The
involuntary consternation of the moment caused him to leap, paddle in
hand, out of the boat; and in such a way, that part of the slack whale
line coming against his chest, he breasted it overboard with him, so as
to become entangled in it, when at last plumping into the water. That
instant the stricken whale started on a fierce run, the line swiftly
straightened; and presto! poor Pip came all foaming up to the chocks of
the boat, remorselessly dragged there by the line, which had taken
several turns around his chest and neck.
Tashtego stood in the bows. He was full of the fire of the hunt. He
hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching the boat-knife from its sheath, he
suspended its sharp edge over the line, and turning towards Stubb,
exclaimed interrogatively, “Cut?” Meantime Pip’s blue, choked face
plainly looked, Do, for God’s sake! All passed in a flash. In less than
half a minute, this entire thing happened.
“Damn him, cut!” roared Stubb; and so the whale was lost and Pip was
saved.
So soon as he recovered himself, the poor little negro was assailed by
yells and execrations from the crew. Tranquilly permitting these
irregular cursings to evaporate, Stubb then in a plain, business-like,
but still half humorous manner, cursed Pip officially; and that done,
unofficially gave him much wholesome advice. The substance was, Never
jump from a boat, Pip, except—but all the rest was indefinite, as the
soundest advice ever is. Now, in general, _Stick to the boat_, is your
true motto in whaling; but cases will sometimes happen when _Leap from
the boat_, is still better. Moreover, as if perceiving at last that if
he should give undiluted conscientious advice to Pip, he would be
leaving him too wide a margin to jump in for the future; Stubb suddenly
dropped all advice, and concluded with a peremptory command, “Stick to
the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I won’t pick you up if you jump; mind
that. We can’t afford to lose whales by the likes of you; a whale would
sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that in
mind, and don’t jump any more.” Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted,
that though man loved his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal,
which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence.
But we are all in the hands of the Gods; and Pip jumped again. It was
under very similar circumstances to the first performance; but this
time he did not breast out the line; and hence, when the whale started
to run, Pip was left behind on the sea, like a hurried traveller’s
trunk. Alas! Stubb was but too true to his word. It was a beautiful,
bounteous, blue day; the spangled sea calm and cool, and flatly
stretching away, all round, to the horizon, like gold-beater’s skin
hammered out to the extremest. Bobbing up and down in that sea, Pip’s
ebon head showed like a head of cloves. No boat-knife was lifted when
he fell so rapidly astern. Stubb’s inexorable back was turned upon him;
and the whale was winged. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless
ocean was between Pip and Stubb. Out from the centre of the sea, poor
Pip turned his crisp, curling, black head to the sun, another lonely
castaway, though the loftiest and the brightest.
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- Chunk 2