There is literally so much that I could analyze from these chapters, but I keep finding this connection between the sea and how it provides a sense of life for seaborne characters. When Ismael sits down for breakfast in chapter 5, he describes the silence and quiet, awkward embarrassment of the table full of sailors, stating that:

“Yes, here were a set of seadogs, many of whom without the slightest bashfulness had boarded great whales on the high seas – entire strangers to them – and duelled them dead without winking; and yet, here they sat at a social breakfast table – all of the same calling, all of kindred tastes – looking round sheepishly at each other as though they had never been out of sight of some sheepfold among the Green Mountains.” (pg. 34).

This reminded me of the very first chapter, where Melville, or even Ismael, describes why he is writing about the sea and the human connection to the ocean. For me, the quote above paints a picture of burly, sea-roughed men who have seen some shit, comfortable on the seas and vocal about what needs to be done. However, when all sat together at a “social breakfast table,” there seemed to be nothing urgently to talk about, despite their shared experiences. In many ways, the sea brings life to these people in ways that common, daily happenings bring awkwardness. Water and sea life bring out aspects of living that normal life simply cannot, which connects back to Ismael’s introduction to the audience, where he declares that he goes to the sea when he feels depressed with his life. Melville even directly states this relation between life and the sea on page 5, where he says:

“It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.” (pg. 5).

It’s in these small moments that Melville connects the role that the ocean plays in bringing forth one’s humanity, personality, and the very essence of life. When on the water, these men have to be vocal and social and themselves because they are surrounded by both nothing and everything else. However, when sitting on a social breakfast table on land, the whalers are at an awkward, silent loss.