It's a fair wind that's only fair for
that accursed fish.--The very tube he pointed at me!--the very one;
this one--I hold it here; he would have killed me with the very
thing I handle now.--Aye and he would fain kill all his crew.
Does he not say he will not strike his spars to any gale?
Has he not dashed his heavenly quadrant? and in these same
perilous seas, gropes he not his way by mere dead reckoning
of the error-abounding log? and in this very Typhoon, did he not
swear that he would have no lightning-rods? But shall this crazed
old man be tamely suffered to drag a whole ship's company down
to doom with him?--Yes, it would make him the wilful murderer
of thirty men and more, if this ship come to any deadly harm;
and come to deadly harm, my soul swears this ship will,
if Ahab have his way. If, then, he were this instant--
put aside, that crime would not be his. Ha! is he muttering
in his sleep? Yes, just there,--in there, he's sleeping.
Sleeping? aye, but still alive, and soon awake again.
I can't withstand thee, then, old man. Not reasoning;
not remonstrance; not entreaty wilt thou hearken to;
all this thou scornest. Flat obedience to thy own flat commands,
this is all thou breathest.
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