第一百三十二章 交响曲
那是一个晴朗的钢蓝色的日子。天与海的苍穹在那弥漫四方的蔚蓝中几乎难以分辨；只是那沉静的天空透明纯净而温柔，带着女性的神情；而那刚健如男儿的海洋则随着悠长、强劲、绵延的涌浪起伏，如同熟睡中的参孙的胸膛。
高空中，纤尘不染的白色小鸟的雪白翅膀滑翔来去；它们是那女性空气的温柔思绪；而在深渊里，在无底的蓝色深处，来去穿梭着巨大的鲸鱼、剑鱼和鲨鱼；它们是那阳刚之海强大、骚动、嗜杀的思虑。
然而，尽管内里如此对比，这对比在外表上却只是影与形的差别；那两者仿佛融为一体；区别它们的，似乎是性别而已。
在那上方，太阳如同一位至尊的沙皇和国王，似乎正将这温柔的气息赠与这勇敢澎湃的海洋；如同新娘赠与新郎。而在环抱的天际线上，一种柔和而颤抖的波动——在赤道这里最为常见——预示着那深情的、悸动的信赖，那挚爱的警醒，可怜的海洋新娘就这样献出了她的胸膛。
被束缚、扭结着；满是褶皱，纠结盘绕；憔悴而坚定，毫不妥协；眼睛如煤块般燃烧，仍在毁灭的灰烬中发出微光；坚定不移的亚哈立在清晨的光辉中；将他那碎裂的额头盔甲仰向天空那少女般的前额。
哦，永生的童真与纯净的蓝天！我们周围嬉戏的无形有翼生灵！空气与天空的甜美童年！你们对老亚哈那深藏紧锁的痛苦多么浑然不觉！然而我曾见过小弥莉安和马大，这些笑眼盈盈的小精灵，在她们的老父亲身边无忧无虑地蹦跳玩耍；与他那烧成焦炭的脑壳边缘长出的那圈烧焦的头发嬉戏。
亚哈慢慢穿过甲板，从舱口走过来，俯身船舷，望着自己的影子在水中下沉，随着他越拼命想穿透那深邃，影子就沉得越深。但那迷人空气中可爱的芬芳，终于似乎在一瞬间驱散了他灵魂中那溃疡般的东西。那令人愉悦、幸福的气息，那迷人的天空，终于抚慰了他，爱抚了他；那继母般的世界，长久以来如此残酷——如此冷漠——如今却伸出慈爱的臂膀，环住他倔强的脖颈，似乎在他身上喜极而泣，仿佛在为一个即使桀骜不驯、误入歧途，她却仍能在心底找到拯救与祝福的理由的人哭泣。从他低垂的帽子下，一颗泪珠落入海洋；整个太平洋所拥有的财富，也比不上这一小滴。
斯达巴克看见了这老人；看见他如何沉重地俯身船舷；他似乎在自己真诚的心中听到了那从周围宁静中心渗出的无尽的啜泣。他小心翼翼，不去碰触他，也不让他察觉，却还是走近他，站在那里。
亚哈转过身来。
“斯达巴克！”
“先生。”
“哦，斯达巴克！这是温和，温和的风，温和的天空。就在这样一个日子——非常像这样甜蜜的日子——我捕获了我的第一条鲸鱼——一个十八岁的少年叉手！四十——四十——四十年前！——前！四十年的连续捕鲸！四十年的困苦、危险和暴风雨时节！四十年来在无情的海上！四十年来亚哈远离了平静的陆地，四十年来向大海的恐怖宣战！是啊，是的，斯达巴克，在这四十年里，我在岸上待的时间加起来不到三年。当我想到我这一生；这其中的荒凉孤独；那船长与世隔绝的、如石砌城墙般的特权，它几乎不容任何来自外面绿色世界的同情进入——哦，疲惫！沉重！孤寂指挥的几内亚海岸般的奴隶生活！——当我想起这一切；这一切我以前只是半知半觉，不那么深切地了解——还有四十年来我吃着干咸的口粮——正是我灵魂干涸营养的恰当象征！——而最穷的陆上人家每天手里都有新鲜水果，拿世上新鲜的面包来换我发霉的面包皮——远隔重洋，远隔整个大洋啊，离开我年过五十才娶的年轻新娘，第二天就启程前往合恩角，只在婚枕上留了个凹痕——妻子？妻子？——倒不如说是丈夫还活着的寡妇！是啊，斯达巴克，我娶她的时候就让她成了寡妇；然后，还有那疯狂，那狂暴，那沸腾的热血和冒烟的额头，为了这一千次的下艇，老亚哈正是凭着这些，狂怒地、泡沫四溅地追逐着他的猎物——更像一个恶魔而非人类！——是啊，是啊！四十年的傻瓜——傻瓜——老傻瓜，老亚哈一直是个什么样的傻瓜啊！为什么要这样追逐争斗？为什么要在桨、鱼叉和标枪上累垮、麻痹手臂？如今亚哈又富有或好到了哪里？看哪。哦，斯达巴克！我背负着这沉重的负担，却连我的一条可怜的腿也就在脚下被夺走了，这难道不残酷吗？来，把这花白的头发拨开；它遮住了我的眼睛，让我好像是在哭泣。如此灰白的头发，除非是从灰烬中长出！可我看上去真的很老吗，非常，非常老了吗，斯达巴克？我感到虚弱得要命，弯腰驼背，仿佛我是亚当，背负着自伊甸园以来堆积如山的岁月，踉跄而行。上帝！上帝！上帝！——撕碎我的心吧！——打碎我的脑袋吧！——嘲弄啊！嘲弄啊！对白发苦涩、刺骨的嘲弄啊，我是否体验过足够的欢乐来佩戴你们；并且显得和感觉如此难以忍受地苍老？靠近些！站到我身边来，斯达巴克；让我看看人的眼睛；这比看海或看天要好；比仰望上帝还要好。凭那绿色的陆地起誓！凭那明亮的炉石起誓！这是魔镜啊，伙计；我在你的眼里看到了我的妻子和我的孩子。不，不；留在船上，留在船上！——等我下艇的时候你别下来；当烙上烙印的亚哈去追捕莫比·迪克的时候。那风险不该由你来冒。不，不！不能拿我通过那眼睛看到的遥远家园来冒险！”
“哦，我的船长！我的船长！高尚的灵魂！毕竟是一颗伟大而古老的心！为什么任何人要去追捕那可憎的鱼呢！跟我走吧！让我们逃离这片死亡之海！让我们回家吧！斯达巴克也有妻子和孩子——他兄弟般的、姐妹般的、童年玩伴的妻子和孩子；正如同您，先生，您那慈爱、渴望的、父爱的暮年拥有妻子和孩子一样！走吧！让我们走吧！——让我马上改变航向！哦，我的船长，我们一路滚向老南塔克特，那将是多么欢快，多么兴高采烈啊！先生，我想，在南塔克特，他们也有这样温和的蓝色日子，甚至如同今天一样。”
“他们有，他们有。我见过——夏日清晨。大约这个时间——是的，现在正是他午睡的时候——那男孩会活泼地醒来；在床上坐起来；他母亲会告诉他关于我，关于我这么个老食人生番的事；说我在外航行在深海之上，但终究会回来再抱着他跳舞。”
“那是我的玛丽，我的玛丽本人！她保证过，我的孩子，每天早上，都要被抱到山丘上，去第一眼看到他父亲的船帆！是的，是的！够了！就这样定了！我们驶向南塔克特！来吧，我的船长，仔细研究航向，我们出发吧！看，看！窗口那孩子的脸！山丘上那孩子的手！”
但亚哈的目光避开了；他像一棵枯萎的果树般摇晃，将最后一只烧焦的苹果抖落在地上。
“那是什么，那无名的、难以言喻的、超凡脱俗的东西是什么；那欺骗的、隐藏的主宰与主人，那残酷无情的帝王在命令我；让我违背所有自然的爱与渴望，如此不停地逼迫、拥挤、将自己塞满所有的时间；不顾一切地让我准备好去做那在我自己本性、自然的内心中，我连想都不敢想的事？亚哈就是亚哈吗？是我，是上帝，还是谁，抬起了这只手臂？但如果伟大的太阳并非自行运动；它不过是天堂里跑腿的信差；连一颗星辰也无法自行旋转，必须依靠某种无形的力量；那么，这颗小小的心脏又怎能跳动；这小小的脑袋又怎能思想；除非是上帝在促使它跳动，促使它思想，促使它活着，而不是我。苍天在上，伙计，我们在这个世界上被转来转去，就像那边的绞盘，命运就是那绞盘杠。而自始至终，看啊！那微笑的天空，这深不可测的海洋！你看！看那边那条狐鲣！是谁驱使它去追逐和撕咬那条飞鱼的？杀人犯去哪儿了，伙计！当法官本人也被拖到被告席上时，谁来判决？然而这是温和，温和的风，温和的天空；空气闻着，仿佛是从遥远的草原吹来；他们正在安第斯山脉的某个山坡下晒干草呢，斯达巴克，割草人正在新割的干草中酣睡。睡觉？是啊，无论我们怎样辛苦劳作，我们最终都在这片田野上入睡。睡觉？是啊，在绿意中生锈；就像被丢弃在割了一半的草行里的去年的镰刀——斯达巴克！”
但是大副面如死灰，绝望地悄然溜走了。
亚哈穿过甲板，想去另一边眺望；却被水中映出的两只一动不动的眼睛惊住了。费达拉正一动不动地靠在同样的栏杆上。
It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were
hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was
transparently pure and soft, with a woman’s look, and the robust and
man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson’s
chest in his sleep.
Hither, and thither, on high, glided the snow-white wings of small,
unspeckled birds; these were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air;
but to and fro in the deeps, far down in the bottomless blue, rushed
mighty leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks; and these were the strong,
troubled, murderous thinkings of the masculine sea.
But though thus contrasting within, the contrast was only in shades and
shadows without; those two seemed one; it was only the sex, as it were,
that distinguished them.
Aloft, like a royal czar and king, the sun seemed giving this gentle
air to this bold and rolling sea; even as bride to groom. And at the
girdling line of the horizon, a soft and tremulous motion—most seen
here at the equator—denoted the fond, throbbing trust, the loving
alarms, with which the poor bride gave her bosom away.
Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm
and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the
ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the
morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl’s
forehead of heaven.
Oh, immortal infancy, and innocency of the azure! Invisible winged
creatures that frolic all round us! Sweet childhood of air and sky! how
oblivious were ye of old Ahab’s close-coiled woe! But so have I seen
little Miriam and Martha, laughing-eyed elves, heedlessly gambol around
their old sire; sporting with the circle of singed locks which grew on
the marge of that burnt-out crater of his brain.
Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side
and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the
more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the
lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a
moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that
winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world,
so long cruel—forbidding—now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn
neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that
however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save
and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into
the sea; nor did all the Pacific contain such wealth as that one wee
drop.
Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side;
and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing
that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to
touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood
there.
Ahab turned.
“Starbuck!”
“Sir.”
“Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such
a day—very much such a sweetness as this—I struck my first whale—a
boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty—forty—forty years ago!—ago! Forty
years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and
storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab
forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors
of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not
spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the
desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a
Captain’s exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any
sympathy from the green country without—oh, weariness! heaviness!
Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!—when I think of all this;
only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before—and how for forty
years I have fed upon dry salted fare—fit emblem of the dry nourishment
of my soil!—when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily
hand, and broken the world’s fresh bread to my mouldy crusts—away,
whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and
sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage
pillow—wife? wife?—rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I
widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the
madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with
which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly
chased his prey—more a demon than a man!—aye, aye! what a forty years’
fool—fool—old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase?
why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance?
how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not
hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been
snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me,
that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some
ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel
deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering
beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!—crack my
heart!—stave my brain!—mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey
hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus
intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a
human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to
gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is
the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no;
stay on board, on board!—lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives
chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with
the far away home I see in that eye!”
