Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Ancient Mast-Head Traditions

The narrator traces the ancient lineage of mast-head standing, asserting that the earliest standers were the Egyptians. He notes that though the builders of Babel attempted to construct “the loftiest mast-head in all Asia, or Africa,” their stone tower was destroyed, so the Egyptians take priority. He argues that the pyramids were founded for astronomical purposes, with their stair-like formation allowing ancient astronomers to climb to the apex and “sing out for new stars,” much like modern look-outs spotting sails or whales. The narrator also cites Saint Stylites, the Christian hermit who spent years atop a stone pillar in the desert, as the supreme example of an unwavering mast-head stander who “literally died at his post.”

Modern Monumental Standers

The narrator contrasts these ancient figures with modern “lifeless” standers—monuments of stone, iron, and bronze. He describes Napoleon atop the Column of Vendôme in Paris, standing with folded arms 150 feet in the air, indifferent to earthly rulers. Great Washington stands “high aloft on his towering main-mast in Baltimore,” marking “that point of human grandeur beyond which few mortals will go.” Admiral Nelson stands on a gun-metal capstan in Trafalgar Square, visible even through London smoke. Yet these monuments, however grand, cannot answer a single hail or guide the “distracted decks” below, lacking the responsiveness of living look-outs.

Nantucket Look-Outs

Drawing from Obed Macy’s history of Nantucket, the narrator reveals that before ships were regularly launched in pursuit of whales, the island’s people erected lofty spars along the sea-coast. Look-outs ascended these poles using nailed cleats, ascending “something as fowls go upstairs in a hen-house.” This coastal watch system was later adopted by New Zealand Bay whalemen, who would signal to boats stationed near the beach upon spotting whales. The narrator notes this custom has become obsolete, prompting the turn to proper shipboard mast-heads.

The Watch Routine

The three mast-heads of a whale-ship remain continuously manned during daylight hours. Seamen rotate in regular shifts, relieving each other every two hours in a manner analogous to steering rotations. This systematic watch-keeping ensures constant vigilance for whales and other ships throughout the day.

Tropical Mast-Head Serenity

In the serene weather of the tropics, the narrator finds the mast-head experience “exceedingly pleasant” and even “delightful” for one of dreamy, meditative temperament. Standing a hundred feet above the silent decks, straddling the deep as if upon “gigantic stilts,” one observes the vast sea while enormous monsters swim beneath. The tranced ship rolls indolently, the drowsy trade winds blow, and everything dissolves into languor. The whaling life in these latitudes brings “a sublime uneventfulness”—no news, no newspapers, no domestic troubles, no financial anxieties, and no concerns about meals, as three years’ provisions rest snugly stowed in casks.

Mast-Head Discomforts

Despite the peaceful hours spent there, the narrator deplores the mast-head’s lack of comfort and coziness. Standing on the t’gallant cross-trees—two thin parallel sticks “almost peculiar to whalemen”—the beginner feels “as cosy as he would standing on a bull’s horns.” While a watch-coat may be worn in cold weather, it offers little more protection than clothing the body. The narrator draws a philosophical comparison: just as the soul is “glued inside of its fleshy tabernacle” and cannot move freely without great risk, the watch-coat cannot become a true shelter. One cannot arrange a shelf or drawer inside one’s body, and similarly cannot make a “convenient closet” of the coat.

Sleet’s Crow’s-Nest

The narrator contrasts the discomfort of southern whaling mast-heads with the superior “crow’s-nests” used by Greenland whalers. He references Captain Sleet’s fireside narrative “A Voyage among the Icebergs,” which describes Sleet’s invention: a crow’s-nest shaped like a large tierce or pipe, open above but fitted with a movable side-screen to block wind. Accessed through a trap-hatch, the nest contains a comfortable seat with a locker for umbrellas and coats, and a leather rack for nautical conveniences. Sleet himself kept a rifle, powder flask, and shot to shoot narwhales from above, since shooting down through water differs fundamentally from shooting from deck level. The narrator humorously notes that despite Sleet’s detailed account of his compass experiments to counteract magnetic attraction, the captain surely remained “attracted occasionally” to a well-stocked case-bottle tucked within reach—a detail Sleet neglects to mention.