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Chapter 113 The Forge (So much to unpack)

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When it comes to writing these blog posts, I read and most of the required reading and then go back and talk about a chapter or line that stood out for me, but this has so much to unpack and dissect with its allusions, nods to Shakespeare, and what the hell are Mother Carey’s chickens? Don’t worry, I looked it up, and it makes even more sense. BTW, if you don’t know what they are, it is simply a good omen from the Virgin Mary that calm seas and winds would be provided, and no disastrous storms are in the future. Let’s be honest, Ahab has enough to worry about, then some godforsaken storm. 


Perth has gone mad, Pip has gone mad, and Ahab knows he’s mad, but is somehow keeping it at bay for now. “Thou should’st go mad, blacksmith; say, why dost thou not go mad? How can’t thou endure without being mad? Do the heavens yet hate thee, that thou can’st not go mad?—What wert thou making there?” Okay, I really hate Shakespearean talk, but here we see Ahab slightly annoyed that someone in Perth circumstances hasn’t gone completely insane, but In contrast, in my eyes, he has entered borderline depression. This scene reminds me of Dickens’ Christmas Carol, where Perth is the Ghost of Christmas Future, a haunting figure that shows Scrooge the potential consequences of his actions, and Ahab is staring directly at this future if the great whale doesn’t get caught. Two characters battling their own demons, one internal and the other God like. All of Ahab’s senseless muttering is evidence of his madness, but in these last few chapters, Ahab has become a pretty likable character in a strange, sadistic way. Ahab is also similar to Hamlet. Mellville and his love of Shakespeare… He’s seeing the ghost… but he doesn’t quite believe what it says. He has not given in to the world of the phantom and fantastical; he must have solid evidence and attend to practical concerns. He’s forming plans and plotting to get his way, not merely pursuing what he believes is in his true heart.


Lastly, I love this line, “Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli.” This line, which translates to ‘I do not baptize you in the name of the father, but in the name of the devil,’ is a powerful rejection of conventional authority. It’s almost as if Ahab knows that Moby Dick is a God, and to confront this God, you have to reject conventional authority and be defiant, fighting fire with forged fire. Ahab has now rejected any faith and has accepted his madness and forged a path that can not be undone. (Pun intended)


I’m eagerly looking forward to what unfolds next.

Mr. Melville? More like Mr. Funny pants (91-92)

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I was conducting (choo-choo) research and was familiar with the word ambergris, but I couldn’t recall where I had heard it before. Seems like Futurama makes another appearance in Moby Dick, which I remember someone else writing about at the beginning of the semester. In Chapter 91, we see Stubb pull the wool (or whale) over the eyes of the French, who, in this time in history, are so easy to make fun of, it’s a wonder how they were able to conquer anything. This chapter is a stand-up comedy routine of the royalty of France and the need for anti-capitalism, where the underdog ultimately wins.


After reading chapter 92 on the importance of ambergris and racking my brain on its use before being edged until chapter 92 on what it really is. We now know that it’s a precious ingredient found in the digestive tract of the sperm whale, which is used in fine perfumes. France, even to this day, leads the perfume industry light-years ahead of its competitors. This is where the comedic genius lies, as well as the separation of classes between the worker (the educated and hands-on person) and the captain (the distributor and profiteer) of a product. You have this captain who is just hanging out in his “cabin,” not ingesting this horrendous stench, while his underpaid laborers are enduring the long journey nose-first at this point. “The stranger mate expressed his detestation of his Captain as a conceited ignoramus, who had brought them all into so unsavory and unprofitable a pickle.” (p.444) If you don’t know what work actually goes into creating something, it is easy to over- or under-value it. Thus, it is easier to fracture groups of those who would otherwise stand in solidarity with one another, to demand better conditions, and easier to extract profit from those gullible fools who can only pay what you ask. He, the captain, is outmatched and outwitted by those with more knowledge and experience, and we, as the audience, love to see it. It goes back into the societal notion of the whaling industry, in how it is a job that carries a bad reputation and is considered a low-class job. Still, without these whalers, the high society wouldn’t be so societal without these brave, knowledgeable, and possibly suicidal blue-collar men just trying to navigate the hard hand that life has dealt them. 

The Breast is Yet to Come (Moby Dick and Breastfeeding)

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As I was reading Professor Pressman’s article, I couldn’t help but notice the multitasking done not by the mother, but by the child suckling at the teat. A child who has no self-consciousness or control over their body or mind somehow puts the mother second to the primary task of the infant’s wondering eye. Obviously, this is not intentional, but given the state of affairs and the political climate, it’s pretty symbolic of the role women play. Even the mother of a newborn, a woman that has carried and given life to a being, cant even garner the attention or manners to embrace the selfless action provided by the life giver lovingly. “and as human infants while suckling will calmly and fixedly gaze away from the breast, as if leading two different lives at the same time…. even so did the young of these whales seem looking up towards us” (p.423) 


“The narrative pauses—taking a moment away from the intricate tales of men, technicalities of whaling, and vast political allegories—to stare into the depths.” (Pressman) Reading this, I envision a car crash on the 805, as onlookers slow down and begin to rubberneck at the tragedy they are willing and eager to see unfold. How many cars? Is anyone hurt? Who’s at fault? Once the crash is in view (meanwhile, while the driver has one eye on the road and the other on the crash), thoughts begin to overcome the brain. If it’s bad, a gasp is let out and empathy ensues; if it’s just a little fender bender, a groan and agitation ensue, with the driver thinking, “all that for traffic to slow!?” Regardless of the outcome, the driver continues, and their narrative resumes. Or put it this way: you’re eating at a restaurant, and out of the corner of your eye, a woman plops her swollen breast, which is an instrument of life, on the dinner table, and you look over and your mind begins to compute what the eye is seeing. A wrinkle in time as your brain pauses and you start to “stare at the depths” of Mother Nature. Some onlookers would turn away in disgust at the audacity of doing something private in a public place, or look in admiration at the sheer beauty that is motherhood. Regardless of the scenario life brings, split-second, unexpected disruptions are part of human nature, and we respond to them—ingesting and pondering. At the same time, your narrative is ongoing, “especially when the world around you threatens the momentary calm.” I’m not sure if anything I said makes sense, but I think you get my drift. 


It is a brutal world we live in, and even more so in the field of Whaling, where this group of sailors on the Pequod have very easily killed these calves and mothers, but just like a farmer, they don’t hate their chickens just because they’re making a meal of them. To have that relationship with the nature of life, consciousness, and morality is a special one because in the whaling world, where you must act to survive and conquer, even a desperate serial killer like men still has a heart. 

Chapter 64 Supper? I hardly even know her

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Most of us can agree that this is a tough chapter to talk about. Obviously, times were different back then, and because it did happen, it’s still worth talking about, even if it may be tough to ingest. Setting aside race, these two individuals (Stubb and Fleece) are the product of their upbringing. Stubb in this scene is viewed as a pompous god fearing dick, hold the Moby, and Fleece, and an elder man who has accepted his fate that his life is just a ticking clock, for it to strike 12 and “some pressed angel will come and fetch him.” There is some beauty in it when Fleece says, “he himself won’t go nowhere,” because he himself is deserving of more. Though he himself may have been dealt a terrible hand, he has accepted that and is patiently waiting for a halo to defy gravity about his head.


This chapter is reminiscent of Huckleberry Finn, especially in the dialect of the black cook, which is also featured in Huck Finn, appearing in both white and black characters. I was reading online about how this language could dehumanize those of a certain race, especially with one where, at that time, they were mostly uneducated. I say uneducated, not intelligent, because there’s a huge difference. My father doesn’t have a high school diploma, and some of his skill sets are far below average compared to those of his peers. Still, what he lacks, he makes up for in blue-collar work, such as construction, and exact measurements. He can look at something and know the precise measurement of fiberglass insulation piping offhand. Additionally, he can mathematically add fractions without missing a beat. I feel that even though Fleece may not be educated in the sense of a white gentleman, particularly as seen in Stubb, he has still lived and seen a world that doesn’t make him less than.


“Don’t be tearin’ de blubber out your neighbours mout, I say.” On page 321, we see Fleece, for lack of a better word, impart this moral lesson on helping one’s neighbor. It bears a striking similarity to the America we live in today, especially in terms of white privilege. To use an analogy, if there were a subdivision and a house were on fire. The fire department wouldn’t show up and start putting water on all the houses because all houses matter. They would show up, and they would turn their water on the house that was burning because that’s the house that needs the help the most. I did let out a little chuckle when Stubb cried out, “That’s Christianity.” We see a sailor like Stubb, who doesn’t practice what he preaches, yet mocks the elderly cook. There’s even a small banter about the birthplace of Fleece, where Fleece explicitly said he was born in Roanoke, and when asked, Fleece reminds him that he had already told him. Stubb, hard of hearing, denounces that Fleece ever said that, and in the same breath, that he must go home and be born again because his sole purpose in life should be that of a cook, and if he cant even cook a whale steak correctly, what good is Fleece to not only the Pequod, but to his race in general.


Its quite thought provoking that this chapter comes after an intense and tension filled chapter of the hard work displayed of the sailors coming together as one to achieve an insurmountable mission, but just moments later, that can turn on a dime and have one reminded of their place, role, and purpose in society even when that society is thousands of miles away from land.

Essay 1: “Oh Father, Where Art Thou”

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As Ishmael and Queequeg are seated in the chapel, a chosen individual with the illustrious title of Father Mapple, dramatically approaches the pulpit, looking down at his “simple hearers” to deliver an illustrious and ‘truthful’ sermon. However, this sermon is not just a delivery of divine truth, but a masterful manipulation of fear, guilt, and seduction. “Shipmates, God has laid but one hand upon you; both hands pressed upon me. I have read ye by hat murky light may be mine the lesson that Jonah teaches to all sinners; and therefore to ye, and still more to me for I am a greater sinner than ye.”  (p.53) By retelling the story of Jonah to an onlooking crowd of sailors, he is “preying” upon the souls of those who want and are willing to do good, and therefore inconspicuously creating a narrative that ultimately suggests our fate is predetermined. Even so, one must repent for one’s sins to free oneself from damnation.  Mr Mapple diminishes the character of Jonah for the well-being of himself and those who would benefit from the prosperous tale. Because of Jonah’s ultimate martyrdom, he is revered as a beloved saint, a goal Mr. Mapple aspires to achieve. Mr Mapple, according to himself, is a “pilot of the living god.” By spreading the word, he is holier than thou, and by instilling this fear and need for redemption in his fellow onlookers, he creates a path for the rich and powerful to prosper, suggesting that God’s world is only meant for those who are the survivors of the fittest. 


The story of Jonah is the heart of Father Mapples’ sermon, and by addressing the crowd as shipmates and exhorting his congregation with the professional language of sailing, he is able to be relatable but also personify the fear that they too can be another example of God’s punishment or, as he elquentyly says, “ a model of repentance.” (p.52) This sermon and the setting and stage of the sermon are not by mere coincidence. As a reader, we are aware of the time this takes place, at the height of the whaling industry and the word of a Christian God in America. This is reminiscent of the present-day America, where we don’t see the separation of church and state, but the congealed conformity of what is considered right or wrong based on the majority of its so-called “people.” “To preach the Truth to the face of Falsehood!” (p.54) I noticed how the words Truth and Falsehood are capitalized, giving them that proper noun, and to show that the word is used in a specialized sense, that there is only one truth and everything else is simply false.


Hence why this is such an important model in the times the American people are living today. Where the government and church are tied together to spread this Truth and to denounce anything and everything that doesn’t align with the Truth even though that Truth may have zero validity or proof, but as Father Mapples preaches this so called Truth, from the word of God, it plays into our fears that as someone who’s Gods hands has supposedly been laid upon twice, it gives it this crediabiliy that if to question would be a sin. They, too, just like Jonah, by not heeding the warning of God, can end up in the “belly of the beast.” If you sin, you must repent, even knowing a horrible fate may welcome you. This lesson has allowed us to separate church from the bases of moral humanity. 


This idea of man unable to comprehend the will of God allows for the individual to become a sheep heard by another sheep in wolf’s clothing. It plays into this idea that you’re either with us or against us and that one’s existence is just a stepping stone to spreading this radicalized Truth. Ishmael is constantly doubting that anyone could ever know the exact truth about anything. Because of that doubt, “while he was speaking these words, the howling of the shrieking slanting storm without seemed to add new power to the preacher, who when describing Jonahs sea storm seemed tossed by a storm himself” (p.52) begins to plant the seed in ones mind (in this case Ishamel) that maybe Mr. Mapple is speaking the Truth. Ishmael has already struck a friendship with Queequeg, who has an entirely different religious perspective than him and who has seen that goodness can be found in anyone regardless of faith, but by the installation of this fear of Truth, could cloud (in a sea storm) Ishmael’s judgment of what it means to be tolerant and to love thy neighbor. 

I related far too much to that Cabin Table

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As I open my book to chapter 34, The Cabin Table (after reading and learning more information on whales than I ever wanted or expected), I thought to myself, “Here we go again, an overdescriptive nonsensical chapter of the dining arrangements on the Pequod.” I was wrong. I don’t like being wrong, but this was a rare occasion.

“Back when I was in the Navy…” Yes, it’s story time. On a navy ship, enlisted and officers are separated when it comes to meal hours. The officers dine in a more ceremonious manner and with luxurious dining utensils and china. I use the word luxurious lightly, but when you’re an enlisted person eating off a plastic tray that has separate compartments for your entrees and sides, the thought of having a ceramic soup bowl does feel a tad opulent. In the officer’s ward room, the lower-ranking person may sit at the table without asking if they are the first to arrive. If there’s a higher-ranking person at that table and a lower-ranking person arrives, they must receive permission to sit by that higher-ranking official. If the lower-ranking person were to finish their meal first, they must ask the highest-ranking individual there to be excused. If the highest ranking person arrives (the captain), they have a designated chair they sit in, and the atmosphere in the room immediately becomes erect with utmost posture and well-behaved manners that a southern mother would even appreciate. While reading this chapter I could understand and feel the intense aura and presence that Ahab is giving off.

“But ere stepping into the cabin doorway below, he pauses, ships a new face altogether, and, then, independent, hilarious little Flask enters King Ahab’s presence, in the character of Abjectus, or the Slave.” The family table is the American symbol of open conversation, where a group gathers to just “let it all out.” Ahab is borne out by his actions. He is there to do a job and not there to be social or experience joy. The last joy he had was in his tobacco pipe that he threw out to sea because even that was too much of a conundrum for his monomania. Ahab has such power in his silence that it’s deafening to the crew around him. Ahab is a master of his ship, and his leadership and implicit power are not once reinforced. It is known without a shadow of a doubt that the standard Ahab has set up. Ahab is not there to run a successful crew and ship; he already has well-trained personnel to do that for him. Ahabs’ internal strife is what keeps him going.

Back to my Navy story, sometimes, and this isn’t often allowed, some Navy officers would slip down to the mess decks, where we enlisted peasants eat, to enjoy a meal. They, too, would rather be peeling the eggshell of a hard-boiled egg instead of walking on one. In the mess decks, just like the harpooners, is where the heart of the ship is. This is the area where all those petty social games are played, and a little bit of stress and anxiety can somehow vanish for a quarter of an hour. Just like in the Pequod, this is where cultures come together or clash, but lessons are learned, friendships are formed, and values are established. That’s one of the beauties of being a sailor. If I had a ship, I would title her USS Carrabba’s because when you’re here, you’re family.

p.s. I know that last line was cheesy, but I couldn’t “pasta” up the opportunity.

p.s.s. and yes I did catch that grape directly in my mouth. Fruits must be washed before ingesting.