501 
THE WHITE WHALE 
gay fowl softly feathering the sea, alternate with their fitful flight; and 
like to some flagstaff rising from the painted hull of an argosy, the tall 
but, shattered pole of a recent lance projected from the white whale’s 
back; and at intervals one of the cloud of soft-toed fowls hovering, and 
to and fro skimming like a canopy over the fish, silently perched 
and rocked on this pole, the long tail feathers streaming like pen- 
nons. 
A gentle joyousness — a mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, in- 
vested the gliding whale. Not the white bull Jupiter swimming away 
with ravished Europa clinging to his graceful horns ; his lovely, leering 
eyes sideways intent upon the maid ; with smooth bewitching fleetness, 
rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; not Jove did surpass 
the glorified White Whale as he so divinely swam. 
On each soft side — coincident with the parted swell, that but once 
laving him, then flowed so wide away — on each bright side, the whale 
shed off enticings. No wonder there had been some among the hunters 
"who namelessly transported and allured by all this serenity had ven- 
tured to assail it ; but had fatally found that quietude but the vesture 
of tornadoes. Yet calm, enticing calm, oh, whale ! thou glidest on, to 
all who for the first time eye thee, no matter how many in that same 
way thou may’st have be juggled and destroyed before. 
And thus, through the serene tranquillities of the tropical sea, among 
waves whose hand-clappings were suspended by exceeding rapture, 
Moby Dick moved on, still withholding from sight the full terrors of 
his submerged trunk, entirely hiding the wretched hideousness of his 
jaw. But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for 
an instant his whole marbleised body formed a high arch, like Vir- 
ginia’s Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in 
the air, the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight. 
Hoveringty halting, and dipping on the wing, the white sea-fowls long- 
ingly lingered over the agitated pool that he left. 
With oars apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of their sails 
adrift, the three boats now stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick’s ap- 
pearance. 
“An hour,” said Ahab, standing rooted in his boat’s stern, and he 
gazed beyond the whale’s place, towards the dim blue spaces and wide 
