In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

[51] MeLViLLe’S reADer With an ease that belies his theme my boy slumps into a mold of his own small back. Chair or taffrail? the waves blend with his thoughts. And far, far out of range, i search my heart for a send off: to follow a runaway’s lead? his optimism? to see our little horrors and be social with them? A summer breeze. And now the pages turn themselves; he shifts and shifts. Perhaps the helmsman stares now at the flaming try-works, sees the shapes: harpooners poling, pitching that hissing mass — a reckoning so stark he slips into a soporific dream then suddenly comes to, but dead astern, his mind ignited wondering how to save the ship from being brought to lee. i read that scene until i could recite it. But now, he lays the book like open wings across his lap and basks and basks in summer’s luxurious light. i watch him like a swabber come to save a listing ship and keep a kind of vigil while he naps. Was God above young ishmael as he packed his bag for Cape horn, the Pacific? Or, in new Bedford, when he read the fate of whale men? An average, good-hearted, dreamer at the masthead. Watcher not watching, chatting with queequeg. O little dreamer, never in more danger than on your sunny perch. Move your foot or hand an inch, loosen your grip — and midday, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek, you drop through the transparent air into the summer sea. ...

Share