459 
THE WHITE WHALE 
of unrelieved radiance is as the insufferable splendours of God's throne. 
Well that Ahab's quadrant was furnished with coloured glasses, through 
which to take sight of that solar fire. So, swinging his seated form 
to the roll of the ship, and with his astrological-looking instrument 
placed to his eye, he remained in that posture for some moments to 
catch the precise instant when the sun should gain the precise meridian. 
Meantime, while his whole attention was absorbed, the Parsee was 
kneeling beneath him on the ship's deck, and with face thrown up 
like Ahab’s, was eyeing the same sun with him; only the lids of his 
eyes half hooded their orbs, and his wild face was subdued to an earthly 
passionlessness. At length the desired observation was taken; and 
with his pencil upon his ivory leg, Ahab soon calculated what his 
latitude must be at that precise instant. Then falling into a moment's 
reverie, he again looked up towards the sun and murmured to him- 
self: “Thou sea-mark! thou high and mighty Pilot! thou tellest me 
truly where I am — but canst thou cast the least hint where I shall 
he ? Or canst thou tell where some other thing besides me is this mo- 
ment living ? Where is Moby Dick ? This instant thou must be eye- 
ing him. These eyes of mine look into the very eye that is even now 
beholding him; aye, and into the eye that is even now equally be- 
holding the objects on the unknown, thither side of thee, thou sun !" 
Then gazing at his quadrant, and handling, one after the other, its 
numerous cabalistical contrivances, he pondered again, and muttered: 
“Foolish toy! babies' plaything of haughty Admirals, and Commodores, 
and Captains ; the world brags of thee, of thy cunning and might ; but 
what after all canst thou do, but tell the poor, pitiful point, where thou 
thyself happenest to be on this wide planet, and the hand that holds thee : 
no! not one jot more! Thou canst not tell where one drop of water 
or one grain of sand will be to-morrow noon ; and yet with thy impo- 
tence thou insultest the sun ! Science ! Curse thee, thou vain toy ; 
and cursed be all the things that cast man's eyes aloft to that heaven, 
whose live vividness but scorches him, as these old eyes are even now 
scorched with thy light, 0 sun ! Level by nature to this earth’s hori- 
zon are the glances of man's eyes ; not shot from the crown of his head, 
as if God had meant him to gaze on his firmament. Curse thee, thou 
quadrant !" dashing it to the deck, “no longer will I guide my earthly 
way by thee ; the level ship's compass, and the level dead-reckoning, by 
