Going Uphill

He ate in the same open air; that is, his two only meals, break­fast and din­ner: sup­per he never tou­ched; nor rea­ped his beard; which dark­ly grew all gnar­led, as unear­thed roots of trees blown over, which still grow idly on at naked base, though per­ished in the upper ver­dure. But though his whole life was now become one watch on deck; and though the Par­see’s mys­tic watch was without inter­mis­sion as his own; yet these two never see­med to speak—one man to the other unless at long inter­vals some pas­sing unmo­men­tous mat­ter made it necessary.

Though such a potent spell see­med secret­ly to join the twain; open­ly, and to the awe-struck crew, they see­med pole-like asun­der. If by day they chan­ced to speak one word; by night, dumb men were both, so far as concer­ned the sligh­test ver­bal inter­change. At times, for lon­gest hours, without a single hail, they stood far par­ted in the star­light; Ahab in his scut­tle, the Par­see by the main­mast; but still fixed­ly gazing upon each other; as if in the Par­see Ahab saw his forethrown.

“I will have the first sight of the whale myself,”—he said. “Aye! Ahab must have the dou­bloon! and with his own hands he rig­ged a nest of bas­ke­ted bow­lines; and sen­ding a hand aloft, with a single shea­ved block, to secure to the main-mast head, he recei­ved the two ends of the down­ward-ree­ved rope; and atta­ching one to his bas­ket pre­pa­red a pin for the other end, in order to fas­ten it at the rail. This done, with that end yet in his hand and stan­ding beside the pin, he loo­ked round upon his crew, swee­ping from one to the other; pau­sing his glance long upon Dag­goo, Quee­queg, Tash­te­go; but shun­ning Fedal­lah; and then set­tling his firm relying eye upon the chief mate, said.

“Take the rope, sir I give it into thy hands, Star­buck.” Then arran­ging his per­son in the bas­ket, he gave the word for them to hoist him to his perch, Star­buck being the one who secu­red the rope at last; and after­wards stood near it. And thus, with one hand clin­ging round the royal mast, Ahab gazed abroad upon the sea for miles and miles and head.