What does it mean to be reading at sea? To be reading while at sea, at loss, in grief, in loss of sense, in madness.
at sea confused, perplexed, puzzled, baffled, mystified, bemused, bewildered, nonplussed, disconcerted, disoriented, dumbfounded, at a loss, at sixes and sevens; informal flummoxed, bamboozled, fazed, discombobulated; archaic mazed.
For personal reasons which have nothing to do with sailing or cruising, I am very much at sea for the past few months. Lately things have gotten worse.
Chapter 22: Merry Christmas.
No tree, no candles, no singing, no feasting, no warmth at all.
Parsimonious Bildad pilots the boat out of the harbor while drunken Peleg kicks sailors to make them “jump.” Ahab remains below, unseen, unheard, allegedly ill, possibly mad. Ishmael stands on board shivering with “wet feet and a wetter jacket” and describes the ship moving out of the harbor:
…as the short northern day merged into night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor. The long rows of teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight; and like the white ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curiving icicles depended from the bows.
Bildad, at the helm, sings “Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood/ Stand dressed in living green,” and shivering Ishmael dreams of “many a pleasant haven in store.” Bildad and Peleg take their leave of the ship and drop into a boat that will carry them back to shore.
Ship and boat diverged; the cold, damp night breeze blew between; a screaming gull flew overhead; the two hulls wildly rolled; we gave three heavy-hearted cheers, and blindly plunged like fate into the Atlantic.
Interesting that Melville writes that they plunged “like fate” as thought fate were a thing that could plunge or dive or swim through an ocean.
Chapter 23: The Lee Shore
The Pequod is like fate. It “thrust her vindictive bows into the cold malicious waves.” And as it does so, Ishmael spies Bulkington, the gnarly old sailor previously encountered in the dismal New Bedford pub, a man who had only just returned from one dangerous ocean voyage to head out for another.
The chapter is called “the lee shore,” which is the line of land downwind from you on a boat. It is dangerous to sail along a lee shore, because the wind constantly blows you against it, and you have to work hard to stay off the rocks. Our narrator observes,
deep memories yield no epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only say that it fared with him as the storm-tossed ship, that miserably drives along the leeward land…in that gale, the port, the land, is that ships direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing fights ‘gainst the winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks asll the lashed sea’s landlessness again; for refuge’s sake forlorly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!
Melville compares the paradox of seeking shelter where none can be had to the search for truth itself:
“all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea.”