The waif-pole was thrust upright into the dead whale's spout-hole; and the lantern hanging from its top, cast a troubled flickering glare upon the black, glossy back, and far out upon the midnight waves, which gently chafed the whale's broad flank, like soft surf upon a beach.
Ahab and all his boat's crew seemed asleep but the Parsee; who crouching in the bow, sat watching the sharks, that spectrally played round the whale, and tapped the light cedar planks with their tails. A sound like the moaning in squadrons over Asphaltites of unforgiven ghosts of Gomorrah, ran shuddering through the air.
Started from his slumbers, Ahab, face to face, saw the Parsee; and hooped round by the gloom of the night they seemed the last men in a flooded world. "I have dreamed it again," said he.
"Of the hearses? Have I not said, old man, that neither hearse nor coffin can be thine?"
"And who are hearsed that die on the sea?"
"But I said, old man, that ere thou couldst die on this voyage, two hearses must verily be seen by thee on the sea; the first not made by mortal hands; and the visible wood of the last one must be grown in America."
"Aye, aye! a strange sight that, Parsee!- a hearse and its plumes floating over the ocean with the waves for the pall-bearers. Ha! Such a sight we shall not soon see."
"Believe it or not, thou canst not die till it be seen, old man."
"And what was that saying about thyself?"
"Though it come to the last, I shall still go before thee thy pilot."
"And when thou art so gone before- if that ever befall- then ere I can follow, thou must still appear to me, to pilot me still?- Was it not so? Well, then, did I believe all ye say, oh my pilot! I have here two pledges that I shall yet slay Moby Dick and survive it."
"Take another pledge, old man," said the Parsee, as his eyes lighted up like fire-flies in the gloom- "Hemp only can kill thee."
"The gallows, ye mean.- I am immortal then, on land and on sea," cried Ahab, with a laugh of derision;- "Immortal on land and on sea!"
Both were silent again, as one man. The grey dawn came on, and the slumbering crew arose from the boat's bottom, and ere noon the dead whale was brought to the ship.
Another uplifting little chapter about the promise of death. In particular, Ahab is contemplating his own demise and what form it will take. Of course, he believes that he will live long enough to see the death of Moby Dick. In fact, Ahab intends to administer the killing blow himself. The Parsee makes a different prediction: "Hemp only can kill thee [Ahab]."
Day two of an autumn cold, and I'm still feeling like that dead whale. Last night, after a two-hour nap and a dose of Claritin, I was feeling much better. However, today, I've been pushing through tar. I've already worked eight hours and taught one class. Now, I'm trying to muster enough energy for three hours of composition tonight. I'm not being very successful.
I don't know how long I'm going to last this evening. Maybe the full three hours. I'm thinking less probably. There are things I must accomplish: 1) collect an essay; 2) listen to group presentations; 3) hand out the next writing assignment; and 4) maybe talk about a chapter in the textbook. If I get through all of that, it will be a miracle.
Frankly, I'm less concerned about teaching tonight than about a poetry class I'm leading this weekend. For one hour on Saturday morning, I have to guide kids through the writing of a poem. It's for the homecoming festivities at the university where I teach. I'm looking forward to it, but I don't want to look like a refugee from The Walking Dead.
So, after tonight, it's all about rest and recuperation.
Saint Marty will be thankful tonight for his bed and Nyquil.
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