Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

Final Cask Stowage and Hatches Sealing

When the last pint is casked and everything cools, the great hatchways are unsealed, the ship’s bowels opened, and the casks go down to their final rest in the sea. The hatches are then replaced and hermetically closed, like a walled-up closet.

Chaotic Post-Whaling Deck Conditions

This scene in the sperm fishery ranks among the most remarkable in whaling. One day the planks stream with blood and oil, enormous masses of whale head pile the quarter-deck, rusty casks lie about like a brewery yard, smoke has besooted the bulwarks, and the entire ship seems transformed into great leviathan himself with deafening din on all hands.

Post-Processing Ship Cleaning

A day or two later, the ship appears as a silent merchant vessel with a most scrupulously neat commander. The unmanufactured sperm oil possesses a singularly cleansing virtue. From whale ash scraps, potent lye is made to exterminate adhesiveness. The crew diligently cleans bulwarks, brushes soot from rigging, scrubs the great hatch, coils tackles, and by combined industry transforms the entire ship.

Crew Post-Cleaning Musings

With elated step, cleaned crew members discourse humorously of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics. They propose to mat the deck, think of hanging fixtures, and imagine taking tea by moonlight on the forecastle piazza. To hint of oil, bone, and blubber to these musked mariners would be audacity—they know not the thing you distantly allude to.

New Whale Sightings Disrupt Cleanliness

At the three mast heads, three men stand watching for more whales, which will again soil the ship and drop grease-spots. Many times, after the severest uninterrupted labors continuing for ninety-six hours, just as the crew finishes cleaning and buttons clean frocks, they are startled by “There she blows!” and away they fly to fight another whale.