Моби Дик

The Spirit-Spout

           Thesetemporaryapprehensions,sovaguebutsoawful,derivedawondrouspotencyfromthecontrastingserenityoftheweather,inwhich,beneathallitsblueblandness,somethoughttherelurkedadevilishcharm,asfordaysanddayswevoyagedalong,throughseassowearily,lonesomelymild,thatallspace,inrepugnancetoourvengefulerrand,seemedvacatingitselfoflifebeforeoururn-likeprow.

           But,atlast,whenturningtotheeastward,theCapewindsbeganhowlingaroundus,andweroseandfelluponthelong,troubledseasthatarethere;whentheivory-tuskedPequodsharplybowedtotheblast,andgoredthedarkwavesinhermadness,till,likeshowersofsilverchips,thefoamflakesflewoverherbulwarks;thenallthisdesolatevacuityoflifewentaway,butgaveplacetosightsmoredismalthanbefore.

           Closetoourbows,strangeformsinthewaterdartedhitherandthitherbeforeus;whilethickinourrearflewtheinscrutablesea-ravens.Andeverymorning,perchedonourstays,rowsofthesebirdswereseen;andspiteofourhootings,foralongtimeobstinatelyclungtothehemp,asthoughtheydeemedourshipsomedrifting,uninhabitedcraft;athingappointedtodesolation,andthereforefitroosting-placefortheirhomelessselves.Andheavedandheaved,stillunrestinglyheavedtheblacksea,asifitsvasttideswereaconscience;andthegreatmundanesoulwereinanguishandremorseforthelongsinandsufferingithadbred.

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