Moby Dick

I would like to again focus a post on a single chapter. Specifically, I would like to compare the monkey-rope in chapter 72 to a climbing rope. I am moving away from my usual category of gender to the umbrella of labor, work, and slavery, as the monkey-rope is used for labor and involves, as Ishmael says, a mortal wound to one’s free will, like slavery. Thus, allow me to compare chapter 72 of Moby Dick to one of the most astounding pieces of mountaineering lore: the true story, Touching the Void, by Joe Simpson.

Interested in mountaineering for much of my life, it was hard to miss Joe Simpson’s story of his own survival, but I brushed up my details with a sup-par article from Wikipedia, which can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Touching_the_Void

First, the short version of Simpson’s story: Simpson and his climbing partner, Simon Yates, set out to make the first ascent of a 21,000 foot peak. They made it to the top, but on the way down Simpson fell and broke his leg. Since the two were low on food and fuel, they needed to make a quick descent to their base camp, so the two tied a pair of ropes together and Yates began to lower Simpson down the mountain in 300 foot intervals. However, at one point, Yates accidentally lowered Simpson off a cliff, and with the belay seat he cut into the snow crumbling, rather than allow them both to slide down the slope and fall off a cliff to their deaths, Yates cut the rope, resulting in Simpson’s fall off the cliff and into a crevasse. Yates figured his buddy was dead and down-climbed to base camp to save himself. Meanwhile Simpson didn’t die and managed to craw out the side of the crevasse and all the way back to base camp in one of the most impressive mountaineering survival stories ever told (which I do no justice).

Let’s begin now with a Footnote from Melville, describing the monkey-rope situation (337, Bantam Ed.):

The monkey-rope is found in all whalers; but it was only in the Pequod that the monkey and his holder were ever tied together. This improvement on the original usage was introduced by no less a man than Stubb, in order to afford to the imperilled harpooner the strongest guarantee for the faithfulness and vigilance of his monkey-rope holder.

However, Yates bypassed the fails-safes designed by that noble man Stubb, by severing his 300 feet of kernmantle money-rope; thereby saving himself while most likely dropping his friend to his death.

So here we have the dilemma of the monkey-rope and the climbing rope. As Ishmael points out, the situation of belaying another man, who in his imperiled state also endangers the belayer, is often a, “humorously perilous business” (336, Bantam Ed.). There is much inherent danger in summiting a high peak or being lowered onto a dead whale inundated in shark-infested water, but these are nonetheless humorous endeavor’s, in part to share a laugh to forget about one’s mortality, and simply in the sense that these can be seen as absurd practices. Why would any sane man ever allow himself to take the working end of the monkey-rope, or the sharp end (the leader’s end) of a climbing rope?

Though the monkey-rope is of hemp, and a climbing rope of nylon, and though the monkey-rope is found only at sea, only on a whaler, and in this technique, only on the Pequod, the situation of Ishmael and Queequeg, and the situation of Yates and Simpson can be found to be very similar. As Ishmael observes, being tied together for safety in a hazardous situation is very much a partnership, almost a marriage of sorts:

…for better or worse, we two, for the time, were wedded; and should poor Queequeg sink to rise no more, then both usage and honor demanded, that instead of cutting the cord, it should drag me down in his wake.” (336, Bantam Ed.)

“…my free will, had received a mortal wound; and another’s mistake or misfortune might plunge innocent me into unmerited disaster and death.” (337, Bantam Ed.)

These passages seem to make a strong case for the viewpoint that severing one of those lifelines is never the thing to do, and breaking that code of honor is worse than your own potential death. But on the other hand, though the assurance of death for the belayer gives insurance to the monkey, why should a mishap or misfortune take two lives when one can be spared?

However a pair of deaths cannot always be avoided, and that is why the agreement between these two people–the monkey and the monkey-holder, the climber and the belayer–is so important, as well as the selection of a capable partner in imperilment. Each of you must rely on the skill and vigilance of the other and each must hold up his end of the bargain if you each want to make it back on deck or back at base camp in one piece. But you have no other choice than to trust your partner. A monkey rope is no use without someone holding the other end. And of course, these safety measures–these lifelines–are far from a guarantee. Your partner at the other end of the rope can only do so much to protect you, and can just as easily endanger you.

Simpson did manage to survive his ordeal, and had Yates not cut the rope, they both may have fallen to their deaths, but would that make it acceptable for Ishmael to sever his monkey-rope to save himself, even if Queequeg was able to swim through the shark-infested sea to safety? That’s not a call for me to make. But it is too much to ask that Ishmael tie himself to the ship? I admire Stubb’s logic, but if you were to slip into the drink, wouldn’t you rather have your belayer pulling you out of the water than foundering in it along with you? Perhaps we can apply the same logic to our mountaineering story and say that, however dishonorable of Yates, it would be better for Simpson to have Yates come looking for him (dead or alive) than to have him lying dead next to Simpson at the bottom of a crevasse.

I first became interested in the varying philosophies in Moby Dick when I read about the carpenter. Ishmael describes the man like a pocket knife, saying that “if his superiors wanted to use [him] like a screwdriver, all they had to do was open that part of him” (451-2). At the end of the chapter, Ishmael tells us, “this it was, this same unaccountable, cunning life-principle in him…that kept him a great part of the time soliloquoizing” (452). The carpenter believes that everything is part of a machine, even people, and even parts of people. In fact, Melville begins the chapter by mentioning that when you think of humanity as a whole, each individual is the same as all the others. We are all part of the machine that is mankind. However, the carpenter, Ishmael assures us, is “no duplicate,” and that is why we should care about what he thinks (450). This got me interested in the individual philosophies of each of the characters in the novel. Melville wrote about them for a reason. They are not duplicates, and we should care what they think.

One of the most significant philosophies, I believe, is that of Queequeg. Queequeg is a foreigner. He is not white, and we know already that his religion differs from that of Ishmael and the other white sailors. Queequeg’s beliefs become really intriguing in chapter 110, “Queequeg in his coffin,” when he wills himself back to health. Queequeg explains to the sailors that “If a man made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him” (463). Immortality? It’s possible.

Now, because Queequeg did not fail in his attempt to deny death, Melville is saying not that it is possible in the real world, but that it is not a wrong belief. If Queequeg had failed, there might be a lesson in it, like: foreign beliefs are wrong, tribal cultures are wrong, Jesus is the way. But Queequeg succeeded, so what Melville might be advocating is that different religions are right for different people. If you believe it, it is true for you. Queequeg believed he had control over his own life and death, so he did. What I love about this chapter is that it reminds me of the novel Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins. It is about two people who, through will-power and good habits, defy death, and live for thousands of years.

One of my favorite characters in Moby Dick is Stubb. In chapter 39, “First Night-Watch,” Stubb assures us that “a laugh’s the wisest, easiest answer to all that’s queer” (163). I agree. What a line to live by! To have a sense of humor is the smartest way to go about life – enjoying every bit of it, having no regrets, and finding the good in what you might not like or understand. Stubb’s carefree disposition reminds me once again of Jitterbug Perfume, which teaches us that a light heart will get us everywhere. It makes me think either Melville is ahead of his time, or Robbins got inspiration from an unlikely place: a happy sailor in a dense tragedy.

Starbuck is the opposite of Stubb. He looks for the bad everywhere. In “Dusk,” Starbuck exclaims, “O life! ’tis now that I do feel the latent horror in thee!” Starbuck is the serious sailor who doubts Ahab and finds omens. Bad omens. A fantastic contrast between Starbuck and Stubb occurs in chapter 114, when Ishmael, Ahab, Starbuck and Stubb ponder the beautiful sea. Starbuck asks of the sea, “Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping cannibal ways,” once again emphasizing the bad parts of a good thing, whereas Stubb declares “that he has always been jolly” (473).

One could then read the novel to the end, and interpret all this to mean that no matter your beliefs, you will die. Even Queequeg, who can fight and win against deadly illness, can and does die in battle with a whale. You can think, if you want, that we are all going to die, but Queequeg, Stubb and I believe we are all going to live, and I leave you with this: “we’re in no more danger…than all the crews in ten thousand ships now sailing the seas” (490).

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick. New York: Signet Classic, 1998

Many of the middle chapters of the novel concern work on the ship, the multitude of which Melville/Ishamel detail in order to convey the scope, amount, and difficulty of the labor involved in running the ship. Ishmael also outlines the hierarchies of labor and laborers present on the ship, which I discussed in my last blog post. I wanted to hone in on a specific chapter, “The Monkey-Rope,” which follows Ishmael’s pattern of detailing work on the ship in the context of a philosophical lesson. It depicts one of the most difficult parts of the whaling process, displays hierarchy (or the lack thereof) between workers, and besides that, it is a pretty funny visual. “In the tumultuous business of cutting-in and attending to a whale, there is much running backwards and forwards among the crew,” Ishamel begins the chapter. “Now hands are wanted here. And then again hands are wanted there. There is no staying in any one place; for at one and the same time everything has to be done everywhere. It is much the same with him who endeavors the description of the scene” (286). The consistency with which ‘all hands’ are required in this long, arduous process, the improbable task of piecing apart a mostly-submerged whale merely tied to a ship in the middle of the rolling ocean, is truly a testament to the whalers’ abilities, which Melville clearly admires. The actual use of the monkey-rope sees Ishmael and Queequeg literally joined at the hip by a cord as Queequeg attempts to mount, then strip the whale; Ishamael senses the absurdity of this labor, terming it a “humorously perilous business” (287). After detailing the labor, Ishmael reveals the philosophical ‘point’ he is using it to make.

“So strongly and metaphysically did I conceive of my situation then, that while earnestly watching his motions, I seemed distinctly to perceive that my own individuality was now merged in a joint stock company of two: that my free will had received a mortal wound; and that another’s mistake or misfortune might plunge innocent me in unmerited disaster and death” (287).

Although he somewhat dehumanizes himself and Queequeg as laborers, Ishmael more importantly recognizes the necessary breakdown of the labor hierarchy in order to get the job done. Lacking free will, the labor itself now governs them, and both lives depend on each other’s skill and commitment to the labor. It is interesting to work in a job in which one literally faces death, which Ishamel recognizes. Also funny (in a dark way) is the scene in which Tashtego and Daggoo thrust their whale-spades into the water after the sharks, which endangers Queequeg’s life with every thrust. In an occupation filled with hazards, this is certainly one of the greatest. Ishmael, though, sees philosophy in labor once again, and even the humor in putting one’s life in peril.

“I’ll try a pagan friend,” Ishmael says matter-of-factly on page 49 of Herman Melville’s novel Moby Dick. Melville presents Ishmael as an example for his readers in the subject of race. At times Ishmael acts as a race-relations role model, and at others he represents the audience’s faulty ideas about race.

As soon as Ishmael hears that the harpooneer with whom he is to share a bed is dark-complexioned, he becomes suspicious. However, he does not immediately think about race differences, and continues to worry mainly about his bedfellow’s unattractive harpooneer qualities.

When Ishmael lays eyes on Queequeg for the first time, he sees that the dark complexion is not solely a tan, and that Queequeg is in fact of a different race. This realization changes everything and Ishmael becomes frightened. Instead of thinking of his new companion as a “head-peddling harpooneer” (19), Ishmael calls Queequeg a “purple rascal” and an “abominable savage” and concludes that “had not the stranger stood between [him] and the door, [he] would have bolted out of it” (21).

Melville slips in a lesson to his readers at this point. In explaining his terror, Ishmael states: “Ignorance is the parent of fear” (21). Ishmael reflects the audience in that his lack of knowledge about Queequeg causes his fear. Melville’s readers should take away from this passage that they have nothing to fear of other races and should simply learn about them. They will learn that they are not so different.

With one polite act, Queequeg wins Ishmael’s affection. Ishmael concludes that “cannibals,” or “savages” are not so bad after all. Ishmael’s appreciation for Queequeg is a huge step in the right direction, but at the same time opens up a new can of worms.

In describing Queequeg, Ishmael generalizes people like him. He says things like “these savages have an innate sense of delicacy” (27). Ishmael does not think of them as individuals, but decides that since Queequeg can be polite, his whole tribe, or even the entire race, must also be polite. Most likely Queequeg’s race has both polite and rude individuals, just like white people. Ishmael does not think of them as “just like white people,” however, so allows himself to make generalizations.

In the quote with which I opened this post, the line from page 49, Ishmael makes yet another generalization. He has befriended a pagan, a savage, a man who is a different race. Ishmael feels pretty good about himself for that. What a good Christian man he is for befriending a pagan! While Ishmael is in fact ahead of his time, and it was a good thing for him to get along with Queequeg despite their differences, Ishmael is again not thinking of Queequeg as an individual. In that statement, he counts Queequeg as just some pagan he can befriend to feel good about himself.

Ishmael, like Melville’s readers, is imperfect. On page 31 he still judges people by their color. He explains that “in New Bedford, actual cannibals stand chatting at street corners, savages outright.” Ishmael sees them simply standing and chatting, so how can he make a judgment on them, except by the color of their skin? Ishmael has made progress for his time and environment, but there is still work to be done.

Melville uses Ishmael to teach his readers about true acceptance. Ishmael demonstrates that overcoming society’s racial separations is a difficult feat. He has taken the first step in conquering prejudices by accepting Queequeg, but he undoubtedly has more attitude changes to make. Melville presses upon his readers that superficial changes are not enough. They can befriend people of different races, and claim to unprejudiced all they want, but it may not necessarily be so. Melville calls for deeper change, and maybe one day we can all be friends.

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick. New York: Signet Classic, 1998.

There are three chapters in a row – “The Chapel,” “The Pulpit,” and “The Sermon” – all dedicated to religion and Ishmael’s interaction with faith and church.  We may learn more about Ishmael’s beliefs, however, from his reaction to Queequeg’s religious rituals.  Queequeg is certainly what the white Christian American of the 1850’s would call a savage – his most frequent religious act is to worship a wooden Congo Idol baby.  Ishmael tempers his unexpected affinity for Queequeg by persistently referencing his otherness – he is a “comely looking cannibal” (43), “just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manner” (47), and so on.

But instead of using religion as a trope to highlight a savage vs. civilized, pagan vs. Christian paradox that relegates “others” to sub-human status, Ishmael uses his religion to do the opposite.  “I say, we good Presbyterian Christians should be charitable in these things, and not fancy ourselves so vastly superior to other mortals, pagans and what not, because of their half-crazy conceits on these subjects” (102).  Not only does he equalize the “savage” Queequeg as a fellow-mortal, he says this is the good Presbyterian thing to do.  This short passage was likely unsettling to readers who considered themselves good Christians and who looked down upon “savages” like Queequeg for their strange, exotic, violent, uncivilized behavior, along with their pagan rituals.  Based on his relationship with a savage that started as his bed-mate, Ishmael rejects any hierarchical view of religion: “Heaven have mercy on us all – Presbyterians and Pagans alike – for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending” (102).

Even before his story has moved to the ship, Melville is making the argument that men of different backgrounds and religions can live as equals, and that “savages” are often not very different at all.