Моби Дик

The Castaway

           Itwasabeautiful,bounteous,blueday!thespangledseacalmandcool,andflatlystretchingaway,allround,tothehorizon,likegold-beater’sskinhammeredouttotheextremest.Bobbingupanddowninthatsea,Pip’sebonheadshowedlikeaheadofcloves.Noboat-knifewasliftedwhenhefellsorapidlyastern.Stubb’sinexorablebackwasturneduponhim;andthewhalewaswinged.Inthreeminutes,awholemileofshorelessoceanwasbetweenPipandStubb.Outfromthecentreofthesea,poorPipturnedhiscrisp,curling,blackheadtothesun,anotherlonelycastaway,thoughtheloftiestandthebrightest.

           Now,incalmweather,toswimintheopenoceanisaseasytothepractisedswimmerastorideinaspring-carriageashore.Buttheawfullonesomenessisintolerable.Theintenseconcentrationofselfinthemiddleofsuchaheartlessimmensity,myGod!whocantellit?Mark,howwhensailorsinadeadcalmbatheintheopenseamarkhowcloselytheyhugtheirshipandonlycoastalonghersides.

           ButhadStubbreallyabandonedthepoorlittlenegrotohisfate?No;hedidnotmeanto,atleast.

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