第一百一十七章 观鲸
第一百一十七章 观鲸
那天傍晚被猎杀的四头鲸鱼，死去时彼此相距甚远：一头远在上风处；一头稍近，在下风处；一头在前方；一头在船尾。最后这三头在夜幕降临前被拖到了船旁；但上风处的那头直到早晨才够得着；而击杀它的小艇整夜都停靠在它身旁；那艘小艇是亚哈的。
浮标杆被竖直插进死鲸的喷气孔里；挂在杆顶的灯笼，将一种不安的、闪烁不定的光投在黑色而光滑的背脊上，并远远地洒在午夜的波涛上，波涛轻拂着鲸鱼宽阔的体侧，如同柔浪轻拍海滩。
亚哈和他小艇上所有船员似乎都睡着了，只有帕西人没有；他蜷在船头，坐着看那些幽灵般在鲸鱼周围游弋的鲨鱼，用尾巴轻敲着轻质的雪松木船板。一种仿佛所多玛未得宽恕的亡魂在死海上空成队哀号的声音，颤栗着掠过空气。
亚哈从睡梦中惊醒，面对面看见了帕西人；被夜的幽暗圈住，他们仿佛是洪水世界里最后的两个人。“我又梦到了，”他说。
“梦到灵车了？老人家，我不是说过，灵车也好，棺材也好，都轮不到你吗？”
“那死在海上的人，用什么装殓？”
“可我说过，老人家，你在这趟航程死前，必定要在海上见到两辆灵车；第一辆非凡人所造；最后一辆露出的木质，必长自美洲。”
“哎，哎！那可是怪景，帕西人：——灵车和它的羽饰漂在洋面，以波涛为抬棺者。哈！那样的景，咱们一时半会儿是见不着了。”
“信不信由你，不见到它，你死不了，老人家。”
“那关于你自己，又说过什么来着？”
“纵到最后一刻，我仍走在你前头，做你的领航人。”
“而你若真走在了前头——若真有那样的事——那在我跟来之前，你还得现形于我，继续为我领航？——不是这么说的吗？好吧，那么，若我相信你所说的一切，哦我的领航人！我这里已有两桩凭证，证明我必能杀死莫比·迪克并活下来。”
“再收一桩凭证吧，老人家，”帕西人说，他的眼在幽暗中如萤火般亮起——“只有麻绳能要你命。”
“你是说绞索。——那我便不死不灭了，在陆上，在海上，”亚哈讥笑着叫道；——“在陆上，在海上，都不死不灭！”
两人再度如一人般沉默。灰白的黎明到来，沉睡的船员从艇底起身，正午前，死鲸被拖回了大船。
The four whales slain that evening had died wide apart; one, far to
windward; one, less distant, to leeward; one ahead; one astern. These
last three were brought alongside ere nightfall; but the windward one
could not be reached till morning; and the boat that had killed it lay
by its side all night; and that boat was Ahab’s.
The waif-pole was thrust upright into the dead whale’s spout-hole; and
the lantern hanging from its top, cast a troubled flickering glare upon
the black, glossy back, and far out upon the midnight waves, which
gently chafed the whale’s broad flank, like soft surf upon a beach.
Ahab and all his boat’s crew seemed asleep but the Parsee; who
crouching in the bow, sat watching the sharks, that spectrally played
round the whale, and tapped the light cedar planks with their tails. A
sound like the moaning in squadrons over Asphaltites of unforgiven
ghosts of Gomorrah, ran shuddering through the air.
Started from his slumbers, Ahab, face to face, saw the Parsee; and
hooped round by the gloom of the night they seemed the last men in a
flooded world. “I have dreamed it again,” said he.
“Of the hearses? Have I not said, old man, that neither hearse nor
coffin can be thine?”
“And who are hearsed that die on the sea?”
“But I said, old man, that ere thou couldst die on this voyage, two
hearses must verily be seen by thee on the sea; the first not made by
mortal hands; and the visible wood of the last one must be grown in
America.”
“Aye, aye! a strange sight that, Parsee:—a hearse and its plumes
floating over the ocean with the waves for the pall-bearers. Ha! Such a
sight we shall not soon see.”
“Believe it or not, thou canst not die till it be seen, old man.”
“And what was that saying about thyself?”
“Though it come to the last, I shall still go before thee thy pilot.”
“And when thou art so gone before—if that ever befall—then ere I can
follow, thou must still appear to me, to pilot me still?—Was it not so?
Well, then, did I believe all ye say, oh my pilot! I have here two
pledges that I shall yet slay Moby Dick and survive it.”
“Take another pledge, old man,” said the Parsee, as his eyes lighted up
like fire-flies in the gloom—“Hemp only can kill thee.”
“The gallows, ye mean.—I am immortal then, on land and on sea,” cried
Ahab, with a laugh of derision;—“Immortal on land and on sea!”
Both were silent again, as one man. The grey dawn came on, and the
slumbering crew arose from the boat’s bottom, and ere noon the dead
whale was brought to the ship.
