Tag Archives: chapter 34

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.

Narrative Perspective and Stage Performance

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This part of the novel has so many moments that made me question exactly who is in charge of the narrative and how it functions for plot and character development. Specifically, how the description of characters, actions, and scenes works as a plot device to paint the happenings of the Pequod as a much larger thing. One of the first moments and most impactful moments came on page 162 in a description of Flask. Melville writes:

“But the third Emir, now seeing himself all alone on the quarter-deck, seems to feel relieved from some curious restraint; for, tipping all sorts of knowing winks in all sorts of directions, and kicking off his shoes, he strikes into a sharp but noiseless squall of a hornpipe right over the Grand Turk’s head; and then, by a dexterous sleight, pitching his cap into the mizen-top for a shelf, he goes down rollicking, so far at least as he remain visible from the deck, reversing all other processions, by bringing up the rear with music. But ere stepping onto 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…” (162).

Flask, after hearing that dinner is ready, seems to go into a dramatic and hilarious performance that involves all sorts of theatrics. This level of performance touches on the recurring themes of theater and Shakespeare throughout Moby Dick, thus far. Instead of describing Flask getting up, grabbing his hornpipe, playing a song, and pulling himself together before joining Ahab, the narrator deliberately describes his actions step-by-step, giving them a level of performance that belongs on the stage of a grand theater. This level of description paints Flask as a character in a much larger production with the Pequod as the stage. In this scenario, Ismael plays the role of the audience, taking in information and having no significant role in the plot (so far) while describing the peculiarities of the ship and her inhabitants. The level of detail given to Flask and his actions is reminiscent of Ismael’s observance of Queequeg in earlier chapters. As we touched on in class, Ismael spends most of his narrative focus simply staring at other characters, collecting and cataloging small details that would otherwise go unnoticed. In this way, in our course discussions on who he is and how reliable Ismael is as a narrator, maybe we’ve got it wrong. Instead of looking at Ismael as the narrator, we might benefit more from looking at him as the audience in a production much bigger than he is.

Ahab, in all his mysterious glory, is the central protagonist who stirs, quite literally, the central plot. In the chapters where Ismael is not directly retelling the happenings of the ship, such as “The Pipe,” there is a noticeable absence of detailed explanations because Ismael is not physically present on stage. Instead of getting the dramatic, theatrical paintings of a scene from Ismael, we, as the readers and audience of this production, are watching it ourselves.

Jesus and the Last Supper (Week 8: 34-42)

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As our main characters, Ishmeal and Queequeg finally board the ship, we eagerly await the reveal of the mystical captain Ahab. Thus far in the novel, Ahab has only been introduced through the perspective of other characters—but has yet to be witnessed in person.

 His character not being seen but only speculated about, creates a mysterious and intriguing aura that suggests the importance of Ahab as a character to the story’s ultimate driving direction. I would even go as far as to say Ahab is a representation of the Prophet that will guide the crew to their destiny on their journey through the ocean. Much like Jesus Christ guiding the direction of the religious experience for his disciples. However, this ultimately leads me to believe that his fate, and that of his crew will end in the same tragic style of the death of Jesus.   

This is hinted at in the subtle allusion to biblical text and the relation to his status and royalty. The power of God is built upon faith, and in many aspects, this is similar to the role of a ship captain—the crew must put their faith in the captain’s ability to lead them. 

IF we consider the Ocean as a sort of religious experience, it opens the possibility for those who are conduits of this experience to guide this journey. In this case the captain becomes a prophet dedicated to the ocean, a status that is indirectly above regality. 

“He who is the rightly regal and intelligent spirits presides over his own private dinner table of invited guests, that man’s unchallenged power and dominion of individual influences for the time; that man’s royalty of state transcends Beshazzar’s [King of Bablyon]” (162). 

This sentiment encapsulates the idea of the captain holding a higher rank than even that of royalty. Considering that royalty is a God given state, it positions God above the royals—and in this sentiment, the captain is above them as well. The language used to describe this state is also specifically biblical, showing that the power is that of a spiritual nature as well as the hierarchy of roles. This situates the status of captain as being that of something godly but not all power. As the story progresses, Ahab will be the one to lead them on the hunt—with the power to steer the direction of their destinies. The question now, is whether he’ll lead them towards glory and heaven or hardship and hell.

Chapter 34: A small detail of Ishmael’s identity and Captain Ahab.

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Even though this chapter is not as important as chapters 35 and 36, we do get a lot of tiny details that I believe to be very important for the upcoming chapters. The first detail I notice is in one of the passages where Ishmael was describing Ahab’s actions and posture in front of people, “Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lion on the white coral beach, surrounded by his war-like but still deferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waited to be served. They were as little children before Ahab, and yet, in Ahab, there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance.” (162). At first glance, I was quite confused about this particular passage because why everyone was afraid of Ahab. There was no hostility from him, and yet, in this passage, he acts as one of the god-like figures that were mentioned in the last couple of chapters. This time, it is war-like. I had a feeling that Melville wanted Ahab to be an authoritative figure. Even though he looks normal in front of others, Ahab carries that terrifying aura of do not mess with me, or otherwise your life will be at risk sort of thing. People know what he is capable of, and they understand the consequences behind it; hence, Ahab was a literal god in front of others. The second detail I would like to point out is when Ishmael later pointed out that he is “an officer” (164). This is quite interesting because I had a hunch that Ishmael is starting to give out small hints about who he really is, and this time, I theorize that he is one of the officers who were calling himself children in front of Ahab. This revealed that everything Ishmael described is probably his experience on this ship; hence, we are being locked through his perspective most of the time. What I would really like to know and am still pondering is that we all know that the ship wrecked by the end, then how is Ishmael still alive? Is there some sort of betrayal he did to the ship, hence we get very little information about him? I would like to learn more about it. But, it will probably be revealed as we read more in the later chapters.

Chapter Thirty-Four

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In Chapter 34, Ishmael gives us a glimpse into the dining hierarchy under Ahab’s silent, oppressive presence. He writes, “Nor did they lose much hereby; in the cabin was no companionship; socially, Ahab was inaccessible.” (166) Melville uses this sentence to critique isolation and the destructive nature of obsession through Ahab and the Pequod. Interestingly, even though the crewmates are excluded from the fellowship with their captain, Ishmael’s tone implies that this is not a loss at all. The “no companionship” in the cabin transforms what should be a place of command and unity into a symbol of emptiness and emotional deprivation. The dining room, typically a space for conversation and community, becomes a physical manifestation of Ahab’s psychological and physical distance. 

Describing Ahab as socially inaccessible underscores the self-imposed isolation that defines Ahab’s character. Ahab’s distance is not only physical but also psychological since he has withdrawn from his own crew and his own humanity. His social inaccessibility reflects his obsession with the white whale, an obsession that leaves no room for empathy or connection with others. Melville presents Ahab’s leadership here as a state of alienation rather than communion. Ahab’s authority separates him from his crew, transforming leadership into loneliness. His inability to connect with his crew reveals the futility of control built on obsession rather than understanding. 

Melville critiques not only Ahab but the hierarchy structures that create power with detachment. The crewmates’ lack of companionship with their captain mirrors the moral decay of authority leaders isolating themselves from humanity instead of uniting. This brief passage highlights Melville’s vision of isolation — a loneliness born from obsession, destined to consume both the leader and his crew.