This section was incredibly powerful, in terms of both story and character development; the novel’s many philosophies, themes, and symbolism were masterfully crafted in a timeless literary finale. I was actually worried that the final encounter with the white whale would not be nearly as exciting as all the build-up that preceded it, but it certainly exceeded my expectations. The descriptions of Moby Dick—with its transparent, angel-like tendons knitted together in concentration (530)—together with the struggle of the feeble Pequod—are truly mesmerizing. Ahab’s last words: “To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee; For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee” could not be more fitting and terrifying. (I later discovered that this line is very iconic within literature; it hardly needs to be asked why.) And still, after this scene came the shocking realization that the entire crew (except Ishmael) died! I truly thought that only captain Ahab—and maybe Quequeeg— would be the ones to share a tragic fate. Now that I look back on it, the death of everyone in the Pequod had been foreshadowed all along; from the very initial descriptions on each of the mates, harpooners, etc. we notice that each person possessed subtle characteristics which contributed to that disastrous ending. I had to reread the final three pages of the book because they were so densely complex and shocking, and I spent an even greater amount of time pondering at the sadness and beauty of that conclusion.

One of the most interesting aspects of this section was the development of the relationship between Ahab and Starbuck. The initial chapters demonstrate the familiar rivalry between the two men. When they share a tense conversation revolving around a leaking cask, Ahab nearly kills Starbuck with a musket. However, he suddenly decides to act out of respect for Starbuck (450), and allows him to proceed with the ship’s maintenance. In another instance, Starbuck is the one who has the opportunity to kill Ahab, who is sleeping and defenseless (482). It was a test on one of his most defining characteristics; integrity. His internal conflict is the same as the reader’s (especially when you reread this section and you already know the ending). Another peculiar incident occurred when Ahab appointed Starbuck as his watchman (502), ironically entrusting his life into the hands of his rival. Maybe Ahab did this in order to gain Starbuck’s respect. However, it is also curious that Ahab decided to share so many personal details about his life to none other than Starbuck (506), who responded with empathy. I had completely forgotten the fact that Ahab had a family; both men shared their vulnerabilities, and this was incredibly significant (not enough to change Ahab’s mind about the purpose of the voyage though). Starbuck was still most ardently opposed to Ahab’s cause, and did not fail to warn him numerous times about the certain doom awaiting them. However, there definitely is something gentler in his tone when he pleads “Oh my captain, my captain! Noble soul (…)”.

It is Starbuck who ultimately reveals one of the greatest themes of the novel: “See! Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou that madly seekest him (531)!” Throughout the novel, it has been heavily emphasized that Fate has an incontrollable grasp upon the characters and whatever sinister course of events that comes their way. However, Ahab’s speech on page 508 offers a radically different view on this theme. Ahab, one of the characters, is aware of Fate’s role in the story; he ignores all of the bad omens in is path and even complies with Fate’s inescapable destiny. He tells a pleading and desperate Starbuck that he is compelled to fulfill his goal by a much greater volition than himself. However, doesn’t the fact that he goes against every possible supernatural warning already mean that he is the one creating his own fate? If Fate or the gods were the ones responsible for the events at hand, would they not steer Ahab away from his mad strive, due to the overwhelming amount of symbolisms, omens, and events which clearly told everyone on that ship they were headed for disaster? The whale does not inescapably and tirelessly pursue Ahab; it is the other way around. Ahab’s belief in Fate was what led him to seal his own fate. It is significant that the entire crew was so threatened by their old captain that their “fear of Ahab was greater than fear of fate (486)”—because Ahab himself directs their fate—not an indifferent God, or any other unpleasant deities, superstitions, and eerie powers of this world. The complacence of a large and diverse crew to a single old man, and their blatant disregard of warnings or opportunities to end all of that madness—this led to their dire fall.

Death, of course, is another apparent theme. The blacksmith’s tale (458) reveals the untimeliness of death. Instead of taking the old blacksmith from this world, it chose instead a brother on whom the family completely depended on. Why was Ishmael the one chosen to pass on the story of the Pequod crew? In the final end sequence of the story, the 1st person perspective is completely ignored, and we are only reminded of Ishmael’s existence when he shares his brief, yet tragic conclusion on the Epilogue. Perhaps the author wanted to leave the thoughts and feelings of this character (which must have been completely indescribable amidst the present horror) to our own imagination. It is ironic that Ishmael embarked on the voyage in order to escape the gloom and the dreariness of land, but returned with the much grimmer image of Death upon his soul. The gods are oblivious to the suffering of men (489)…every description of the superb enchantment and the loveliness of the ocean view was followed by a vile and grotesque whale hunt. Perhaps every empathetic interaction between Ishmael and Queequeg, every hilarious remark by Stubb, every noble decision of Starbuck, or every daring catch of the harpooners, served to remind the reader that the sweetness of camaraderie and adventure could only be followed by such a bitter end.

Although the majesty of whales has been an emphatic theme throughout the book, this section truly dives into Ishmael’s highest expression of adoration for the ancient and divine sea creatures. Whales have roamed the earth for “six thousand years–and no one knows how many millions of ages before (355)”, and the fact that a traversing whale from the 19th century can carry within its flesh a harpoon that “might have been darted by some Nor’ West Indian before America was ever discovered (346)” is a wondrous notion. Their longevity and individuality render them eternal creatures in Ishmael’s eyes (438). We can appreciate the descriptions of the gallant whale schoolmaster and his journey through the globe—an Ottoman accompanied by his harem, a great Solomon among concubines (376)—to his finale as an elderly and lonesome giant, who takes Nature as his wife. In Ishmael’s eyes, a mere touch upon the sweet, heavenly spermaceti is enough to solve all of the world’s problems (398). The reader can perfectly envision the incomparable “lines of beauty” and “crescentic borders” of the whale’s flukes (360); however, the mighty thrust of these flukes are also strangely likened to the dreadful image of Satan’s claw emerging from Hell (362). Further analogies delight the reader’s imagination; does an approaching herd of sperm whales better resemble chimneys within a metropolis, a military march, or a grand Siamese coronation (366-367)? The author himself marvels at the immensity of the theme, even stating that despite his own exhaustive research, there would never cease to be information to write on the great Leviathan (432).

This section does recall some of the themes from the last one, such as the chapter, “The Honor and Glory of Whaling”, which reflects on the notable personages throughout history and mythology who have been whalers in their own merit. We once again notice the cruelty of man and the horror of the whale hunt: “there is no folly of the beasts of the earth that is not outdone by the madness of men (369)”. The contrast of the bloody murder of the whale, to the peace and solemnity of the churches which–thanks to its oil–illuminate their sanctuaries (345) is a chilling image to behold. In fact, I was beginning to wonder how whales—who have been so greatly hunted throughout centuries—are not yet extinct, when Ishmael readily provided the justification in Chapter 105. We certainly do feel convinced and relieved that the whale shall not easily “meet its inglorious end (435)”, but also uneasy with the notion that an inconceivable number of these creatures have perished at the hands of men.

Several new characters are introduced as the Pequod runs into other roaming whalers. The ungrateful Dedrick De Deer, captain of the German “Virgin” (338), attempts to hinder the Pequod crew; he is rather unsuccessful in the ensuing whale chase. The encounter with the “Rose-Bud” (384) also proves the Pequod crew is not the only one susceptible to a deception, for they only helped the Frenchmen to get their hands on a precious supply of ambergris. One of the most humorous scenes in this section was the encounter between Stubb and the Rose-Bud captain, and how the Guernsey-man’s translation was a blatant departure from Stubb’s obnoxious remarks. Ahab’s impatient quest for information on the white whale contrasts with the comical British politeness aboard the Samuel Enderby (414). Ahab’s madness is also seen in a new and disturbing light when we learn the captain of the ship has also lost a limb to the white whale, yet is not nearly as vengeful, and even appears indifferent to the fact. Indeed, not even an extremely multifaceted carpenter (442) is able to earn Ahab’s good favor. The good cheer of the Englishmen does not stop them from noticing Ahab’s fervent, anxious pulse (420).

Ishmael’s (and Melville’s) views on religion also seep through. He does express the historical doubts on the Biblical tale of Jonah (351), and, in what seems like a display of idolatry, encourages the reader to worship a legendary whale skeleton (435). A clever and rhythmic line expresses his belief in a more balanced view of religion: “Doubts of all things earthly, and intuitions of some things heavenly; this combination makes neither believer nor infidel, but makes a man who regards them both with an equal eye (359)”. Ishmael questions whether the rights of man, religious belief, etc. are nothing but loose-fish and fast-fish (381); in other words, do the greatest aspects of our existence amount to an unfair display of conceit and competition? And through Pip’s unfortunate and nearly deadly fall to the sea, we peer into his reflections about a cruel and indifferent God (397). Ishmael’s hallucination in “The Try-Works” shows us nothing but the hopelessness and dread of the world and the evil in others, and he feels completely lost among the gloom (404). Soon enough, however, he breaks free from his vision, and warns the reader not to fall into that same trap of listening to the devils of life. Ishmael does believe there is a certain meaning behind in all things. A doubloon may carry the entire trajectory of the Zodiac, and even Queequeg’s tattoos are not absent of fateful significance. The writer’s constant appeal to the weaving of the gods or fates makes us wonder if the one God is truly the object of his faith.

The exaltation of the whaling career and the wondrous exploits of the peculiar, yet noble art of the whaleman is a common theme throughout the book, and especially this section. “But look at the godly, honest, unostentatious, hospitable, social, free-and-easy whaler!(237)”, Ishmael exclaims as he refers to a friendly meeting of whalemen, compared to the irreparably flawed greetings of other varieties of seafarers. Dreamy evenings aboard a gentle Pequod surrounded by an ocean of brit, the majesty of whales and the thrill of the whale hunt, the skillful management of the “magical, sometimes horrible (273)” whale-line, and the bodily and spiritual isolation of the “savage” whaler–this kind of life frightens, and also undoubtedly allures the readers. Ishmael is even quick to condemn prominent artists for not accurately portraying the anatomy of whales, and at times, he does appear inflated with the notion that he is superior to petty landsmen, but disguises it well with his familiar, good-natured writing (or rather, the character’s voice within Melville’s writing) . And when the reader becomes accustomed to Ishmael’s way of viewing the world, it still becomes nothing short of impressive when, out of sheer passion and awe, he is able to make out the image of a whale in the starry heavens (268), or ponder at the dreadful power of the Deity from none other than a whale’s brow (334). Even the brutish Stubb is portrayed with admiration as he nimbly captures the sperm whale (279-281).

And yet, however compelling the nature of Ishmael’s arguments, the allure of the whaling life is instantly shambled when we are exposed to the true cruelty of a whale’s murder. It is a wonder that Ishmael can possess such an unbounded reverence for the great “leviathan”, with no perceivable ounce of horror as he describes the “spasmodically dilating and contracting his spout-hole, with sharp, cracking, agonized respirations”, and the “gush after gush of clotted red gore”, like the “purple lees of red wine”, shooting out into the air (281). However, Ishmael is of the opinion that we are not the least bit civilized either, and is quick to point out our hypocrisy: “But no doubt the first man that ever murdered an ox was regarded as a murderer (…) Look at your knife-handle, there, my civilized and enlightened gourmand dining off that roast beef, what is that handle made of? (293)”.

To us landsmen, the whaling life is still not convincing enough, for even that justification does not explain the sheer insanity of falling into a dismembered whale head, as the unfortunate Tashtego does in “Cistern and Buckets”. When Queequeg dives to the rescue, I was afraid he would reach the “final dive” that Ishmael only briefly referred to at the beginning of the book. Thankfully, both Queequeg and Tashtego survive, at least for now. More unsettling still is the “devil-worship (287)” of the sharks, which follow the Pequod’s traverse like a larger, and infinitely more sinister group of maggots. Although Fleece and Stubb attempt to converse with the sharks in an odd display of humor and stupidity, the author could be trying to tell us something much deeper through this interaction. Fleece’s resolution to the “Christian” method of reasoning with the sharks proves just as ineffective as his previous cursing at them, perhaps signifying that aboard the Pequod, the powers of Christendom amount to a foreign and useless notion; it is a world of savagery as Ishmael stated before. It is also ironic that the religious professions of Stubb greatly contrast his frightening, aggressive demeanor towards Fleece. Melville’s reflections on tolerance from the very beginning of the friendship between Christian Ishmael and pagan Queequeg echo back to us in all of its subtle criticisms. On a slightly lighter note, I also wondered whether the monkey-rope tying Queequeg and Ishmael together during the dangerous descent of the blubber-hook (309) somehow symbolized the nature of their inseparable friendship; their lives were at that moment physically tied together, just as they are bound by fate throughout the story.

But that is not the only time we ponder at the hidden meaning within Melville’s writing. “The Town-Ho’s Story” certainly left me wondering if Radney’s death by the white whale was the only element of foreshadowing layered through the tale, or whether the division and violence of the crew were indeed pointing to a future conflict within the Pequod. Melville has a repetitive way of applying an unobserved, wondrous feat of nature to a quick, philosophical reflection about our own lives: “consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself?…(270)” We are told to imagine the two whale heads hanging upon the sides of the boat are indeed the heads of Locke and Kant, and are then that we should throw them overboard (318); we can only speculate and wonder at the cause for such a statement. The ghost-like apparition of the great Squid (272) seemed like yet another omen of dread for the crew, and Ishmael admits to the existence of superstitions concerning the unusual sight. We are even left pondering about meaning behind the Italian line engravings–or are they Indian hieroglyphics?–upon the blubber of the sperm whale (298). The further comparison of a whale to the famous dome of St. Peter’s (300) is particularly interesting–the whale is just as beautiful, ethereal, inconceivably massive, and overflows with symbols of heaven and feelings of splendor. Ahab’s Shakespearean monologue towards the whale head (302) only worsens his maddening impression upon Ishmael and the readers, and the delirium of Gabriel on the neighboring Jeroboam crew also makes us frightened with the notion that Pequod itself may eventually reach such sinister levels of disorder.

There were some parts in this section which at first made me wonder, “why is this here?”, such as the alteration to a play-like writing style, or the descriptions on the varying classes of whales. Soon enough, however, the significance of these writing devices was made clear. Later on in the book, Ishmael’s references to, or even full-blown tales of great whaling adventures would not be complete if we did not have some background on the Right Whale, the Sperm Whale, the Greenland Whale, and so on. Even though we do not remember all of the details about Ishmael’s rambles on cetology, we still feel “experienced” enough to comprehend his stories on a deeper level once we are familiar with the different whales that are within them; they even feel like individual characters. Now, the abrupt change to the play format at first seemed very confusing to me, but later on I realized that somehow, it inexplicably heightened the mood of madness and desperation the author was attempting to convey. The chapter “Midnight, Forecastle”, with its detached style and all of the mindless celebration, gives us the impression that the sailors are all marionettes in the hands their puppet-master. “Sunset” and “Dusk” contain soliloquies of Ahab and Starbuck respectively, and it is the first time the novel switches to a point of view of other characters besides Ishmael. To me, they felt like the climax of suspense and drama in this section. The uncertainty of Starbuck and the mad obsession of Ahab really made me think that ghastly horrors awaited the Pequod crew.

Although the theme of fate and ominous suspense becomes magnified later on in the book, it resurfaces significantly throughout this section as well. Starbuck’s hesitation to join the pursuit of Moby Dick is an evident use of foreshadowing; he is the only one sensible enough to question the “foreboding invocation (pg 168)”. His frightful exclamation at page 167 “God keep me–God keep us all!”, felt like a death-sentence for the characters. However, the culmination of the theme of fate for this section lay on page 188: “Such a crew, so officered, seemed specially picked and packed by some infernal fatality to help him to his monomaniac revenge.” Ishmael goes on to describe how it seemed as if evil magic had bound the crew together to follow Ahab’s bidding. Sperm whales are guided by an “infallible instinct (199)”, and even the Zodiac is used to predict the locations of the white whale (200). And just before the spectacular appearance of the dreaded Moby Dick, a long description of a dreamy afternoon which appeared to be weaved together by the Fates themselves (214) looms in to remind us of the familiar mood of the novel. Finally, the section ends with the ghostly spouts of the white whale (232).

The main purpose of the book, the whale Moby Dick, is thoroughly described in the frightful chapter that bears the whale’s name, as well as the following chapter, “The Whiteness of the Whale”, which to me was the most provoking section of the book so far. We finally learn what makes Moby Dick particularly entrancing to Ishmael, and that is its white color. The argument that it is the whiteness of the whale–not the massive size or even its ravaging actions–that emanates the horrifying effect it has on people, is so intricately well-written and convincing. The entire universe is shrouded with the ethereal and the dread of the color white, according to Ishmael. As he personally converses with the reader and cites so many examples for his view–even some that almost two-hundred years later we can still relate to–we are completely enticed by the singularity of whiteness in creation by the end of the chapter, and are bewildered by the fact that we never actually noticed it before. It certainly adds to the fright of Moby Dick.

Melville’s development of the different characters is especially admirable; we are able to decipher so much about a character from a single, well-written paragraph. We would expect long descriptions about physical appearance or somebody’s particular day-to-day trifles to bore us, but instead, they are intriguing and even humorous at times. The trials of humble Flask under Ahab’s strict regime (pg. 154), Ishmael’s pleasant meditations on the mast-head (157-163), Starbuck’s conflicting thoughts about the white whale quest, the monotone and yet passionate encouragements of the quirky Stubb, little Flask atop the massive Daggoo (220), and Ishmael’s desperation upon realizing that his life is an absolute joke and that he runs the serious risk of losing it upon that fateful whaling journey–all of these, as well as others, are the most enjoyable moments of the book and they quickly lead you to root for the characters, however mad their pursuits may be. It is also what makes the occasional mental descent of the crew so poignant at times: “Beelzebub himself might climb up the side and step down into the cabin to chat with the captain, and it would not create any unsubduable excitement at the forecastle (229).” We are finally introduced to the long-awaited Captain Ahab; in fact, this entire section contains several descriptions which surround him with an inescapable aura of mystique and apprehension. The scar that crosses his face like a lightning that hits a tree (129) is an introduction to his eerie persona, which only darkens as the story progresses. We learn that “he sleeps with clenched hands (202), and that nobody ever saw him kneel (227). Ahab’s unquestioned authority in the boat becomes a recurrent theme, and he represents such a stark contrast with everything that we consider “normal” or “pleasant” in a person. The introduction of Ahab’s objective of chasing the white whale produces uncomfortable feelings in the reader as, “more and more strangely and fiercely glad and approving grew the countenance of the old man at every shout”, and a muffled humming is heard from his “wheels of vitality” (164-165). He is incredibly smart and calculating, not only in the effort that he dedicates to his maddening revenge on Moby Dick, but also in the way that he plans to maintain the will of his crew under his own steady control (211-212).

The first few chapters of Moby Dick are enriching and captivating. It seems as if every sentence is laden with depth, and every chapter ends with a meaningful reflection. This initial section is mostly an introduction to the characters and setting, and as such, it contains a variety of descriptions. Long sentences and a multitude of adjectives are common, and the Melville’s care and detail allow us to perfectly envision his world. I found it especially interesting that occasionally, the narrator will dive into some profound reflection; the reading experience becomes even more exciting because we are able to learn something through the author’s wandering meditations. There are even certain moments whilst reading a short description when I think “yes, someone finally put this (feeling, idea, etc.) into words!” I was surprised to discover the book is also incredibly humorous–the series of events during the first meeting between Ishmael and Queequeg being the most noticeable to me–and the use of irony is especially prominent. The characters are vivid and complex. The author masterfully crafts past experiences for his characters, which affect the way they each react to their current circumstances (like the ominous presence Ishmael encountered as a child which resurfaces when he awakes to find Queequeg hugging him). Every individual in the story is completely unique and possesses qualities that truly make the reader interested in their life. Ishmael’s passionate and open-minded nature, the sweet and loving heart of the cannibal Queequeg, and the apprehension built around the mysterious Captain Ahab all combine to form an intriguing, page-turning story, even if the book is not very heavy on plot.

Furthermore, this first section already introduces a broad set of themes. Fate is among the most noticeable. Ishmael begins his account by stating that despite the various motivations he had for embarking on his whaling journey, really, the sole work of “Fate” was behind his ordeal, and the reasons he had stated were nothing more than a delusion; they led him to believe he was indeed exercising his free will. The theme of death is first introduced within the Whalemen’s Chapel: as Ishmael observes the memorial tablets in honor of deceased sailors, he ponders over the thought of dying at sea. It is quite despairing to never be able to see your loved one again, much less bury them properly. The preacher’s hymn mentions how God is with us in trouble and in death, which gives the reader an impression that the whaling trip will not be devoid of tragedy. The contrast between Western “Christian” culture and “savage” native culture is another theme that is heavily emphasized. However, the author makes use of this to criticize certain aspects or “Christian” culture. After Ishmael’s initial meeting with Queequeg, he remarks that it is better to sleep with a sober cannibal then a drunken Christian. On another instance, Ishmael states that he prefers the genuine, although uncivilized nature of Queequeg rather than hollow Christian courtesy. The very friendship that blooms between Queequeg and Ishmael carries a powerful message to the readers of this time.

One of the memorable scenes for me throughout this section was Father Mapple’s sermon, primarily because it reminded me of great spiritual truths. The biblical story of Jonah was a perfect match to the theme of the book. The preacher’s main argument is that obeying God consists of constantly disobeying ourselves. If we do sin, our Father gladly forgives us. Finally, we should never abandon our duty to share the gospel, as Jonah did. Father Mapple is captivating and preaches with vivacity and fervor, which allows his words to truly impact his audience. He extends Jonah’s story to fit his own reality and fills it with thrilling details. The Bible does not describe exactly how Jonah embarked on his runaway vessel, for example, so Father Mapple takes his own liberties and creates a tense encounter between Jonah and the captain of the ship. Jonah’s thoughts and feelings are described, however, the essence of the Biblical truth remains. You can almost see Father Maple’s wild gesticulations and potent shouts as the tale progresses. Finally, he reveals humility through his passionate reverence towards the Lord. He climbs on a pulpit above the ground, perhaps to symbolize his detachment from the world, Ishmael observes. He informs the audience that his sermon is especially directed towards himself, for he is a greater sinner than they. He finalizes the sermon with an emotion which no one else in the chapel can comprehend, and with a slight touch of melancholy for the fact that nobody seems to fully grasp the essence of that wonderful Truth. He shows care and concern to the small congregation, even though we only see him for two chapters.

There are countless more scenes and descriptions which stand out throughout this section. These chapters have been a buildup of introduction as well as suspense, and now the full scope of the journey will ensue; massive revelations dangers most likely lie ahead.