THE WHITE WHALE 147 
tossing both arms, with measureless imprecations he shouted out: 
“Aye, aye ! and I’ll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, 
and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition’s flames before 
I give him up. And this is what ye have shipped for, men! to chase 
that white whale on both sides of land, and over all sides of earth, till 
he spouts black blood and rolls fin out. What say ye, men, will ye 
splice hands on it, now ? I think ye do look brave.” 
“Aye, aye!” shouted the harpooneers and seamen, running closer 
to the excited old man: “a sharp eye for the White Whale; a sharp 
lance for Moby Dick !” 
“God bless ye,” he seemed to half sob and half shout, “God bless 
ye, men. Steward ! go draw the great measure of grog. But what’s 
this long face about, Mr. Starbuck? wilt thou not chase the white 
whale ? art not game for Moby Dick ?” 
“I am game for his crooked jaw, and for the jaws of Death too, 
Captain Ahab, if it fairly comes in the way of the business we follow ; 
but I came here to hunt whales, not my commander’s vengeance. How 
many barrels will thy vengeance yield thee even if thou gettest it, 
Captain Ahab? it will not fetch thee much in our Nantucket market.” 
“Nantucket market! Hoot! But come closer, Starbuck; thou re- 
quirest a little lower layer. If money’s to be the measurer, man, and 
the accountants have computed their great counting-house the globe, 
by girdling it with guineas, one to every three parts of an inch ; then, 
let me tell thee, that my vengeance will fetch a great premium here!” 
“He smites his chest,” whispered Stubb, “what’s that for ? methinks 
it rings most vast, but hollow.” 
“Vengeance on a dumb brute!” cried Starbuck, “ that simply smote 
thee from blindest instinct ! Madness ! To be enraged with a dumb 
thing, Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous.” 
“Hark ye yet again, — the little lower layer. All visible objects, 
man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living 
act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing 
puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning 
mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the 
prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall ? To me, 
the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think 
there’s naught beyond. But ’tis enough. He tasks me ; he heaps me ; 
