But one morning, turning to pass the doubloon, he seemed to be newly
attracted by the strange figures and inscriptions stamped on it,
as though now for the first time beginning to interpret for himself
in some monomaniac way whatever significance might lurk in them.
And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things
are little worth, and the round world itself but an empty cipher,
except to sell by the cartload, as they do hills about Boston,
to fill up some morass in the Milky Way.
Now this doubloon was of purest, virgin gold, raked somewhere
out of the heart of gorgeous hills, whence, east and west,
over golden sands, the head-waters of many a Pactolus flows.
And though now nailed amidst all the rustiness of iron bolts
and the verdigris of copper spikes, yet, untouchable and immaculate
to any foulness, it still preserved its Quito glow. Nor, though placed
amongst a ruthless crew and every hour passed by ruthless hands,
and through the livelong nights shrouded with thick darkness
which might cover any pilfering approach, nevertheless every
sunrise found the doubloon where the sunset last left it last.
For it was set apart and sanctified to one awe-striking end;
and however wanton in their sailor ways, one and all,
the mariners revered it as the white whale's talisman.
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