CHAPTER 113
The Forge
With matted beard, and swathed in a bristling shark-skin apron,about mid-day, Perth was standing between his forge and anvil,the latter placed upon an iron-wood log, with one hand holding a pike-headin the coals, and with the other at his forge's lungs, when Captain Ahabcame along, carrying in his hand a small rusty-looking leathern bag.While yet a little distance from the forge, moody Ahab paused;till at last, Perth, withdrawing his iron from the fire, began hammeringit upon the anvil--the red mass sending off the sparks in thickhovering flights, some of which flew close to Ahab.
"Are these thy Mother Carey's chickens, Perth? they are always flyingin thy wake; birds of good omen, too, but not to all;--look here,they burn; but thou--thou liv'st among them without a scorch."
"Because I am scorched all over, Captain Ahab," answered Perth,resting for a moment on his hammer; "I am past scorching-,not easily can'st thou scorch a scar."
"Well, well; no more. Thy shrunk voice sounds too calmly, sanely woefulto me. In no Paradise myself, I am impatient of all misery in othersthat is not mad. Thou should'st go mad, blacksmith; say, why dostthou not go mad? How can'st thou endure without being mad?Do the heavens yet hate thee, that thou can'st not go mad?--What wert thou making there?"
"Welding an old pike-head, sir; there were seams and dents in it."
"And can'st thou make it all smooth again, blacksmith, after such hardusage as it had?"
"I think so, sir."
"And I suppose thou can'st smoothe almost any seams and dents;never mind how hard the metal, blacksmith?"
"Aye, sir, I think I can; all seams and dents but one."
"Look ye here then," cried Ahab, passionately advancing, and leaningwith both hands on Perth's shoulders; "look ye here--here--can yesmoothe out a seam like this, blacksmith," sweeping one hand acrosshis ribbed brow; "if thou could'st, blacksmith, glad enough wouldI lay my head upon thy anvil, and feel thy heaviest hammer betweenmy eyes. Answer! Can'st thou smoothe this seam?"
"Oh! that is the one, sir! Said I not all seams and dents but one?"
"Aye, blacksmith, it is the one; aye, man, it is unsmoothable;for though thou only see'st it here in my flesh, it has worked downinto the bone of my skull--that is all wrinkles! But, away withchild's play; no more gaffs and pikes to-day. Look ye here!"jingling the leathern bag, as if it were full of gold coins."I, too, want a harpoon made; one that a thousand yoke of fiends couldnot part, Perth; something that will stick in a whale like his ownfin-bone. There's the stuff," flinging the pouch upon the anvil."Look ye, blacksmith, these are the gathered nail-stubbs of the steelshoes of racing horses."
"Horse-shoe stubbs, sir? Why, Captain Ahab, thou hast here, then,the best and stubbornest stuff we blacksmiths ever work."
"I know it, old man; these stubbs will weld together like gluefrom the melted bones of murderers. Quick! forge me the harpoon.And forge me first, twelve rods for its shank; then wind, and twist,and hammer these twelve together like the yarns and strands of atow-line. Quick! I'll blow the fire."
When at last the twelve rods were made, Ahab tried them, one by one,by spiralling them, with his own hand, round a long, heavy iron bolt."A flaw!" rejecting the last one. "Work that over again, Perth."
This done, Perth was about to begin welding the twelve into one,when Ahab stayed his hand, and said he would weld his own iron.As, then, with regular, gasping hems, he hammered on the anvil,Perth passing to him the glowing rods, one after the other,and the hard pressed forge shooting up its intense straight flame,the Parsee passed silently, and bowing over his head towardsthe fire, seemed invoking some curse or some blessing on the toil.But, as Ahab looked up, he slid aside.
"What's that bunch of lucifers dodging about there for?" muttered Stubb,looking on from the forecastle. "That Parsee smells fire like a fusee;and smells of it himself, like a hot musket's powder-pan."
At last the shank, in one complete rod, received its final heat;and as Perth, to temper it, plunged it all hissing into the caskof water near by, the scalding steam shot up into Ahab's bent face.
"Would'st thou brand me, Perth?" wincing for a moment with the pain;"have I been but forging my own branding-iron, then?"
"Pray God, not that; yet I fear something, Captain Ahab. Is not thisharpoon for the White Whale?"
"For the white fiend! But now for the barbs; thou must makethem thyself, man. Here are my razors--the best of steel;here, and make the barbs sharp as the needle-sleet of the Icy Sea."
For a moment, the old blacksmith eyed the razors as though he wouldfain not use them.
"Take them, man, I have no need for them; for I now neither shave,sup, nor pray till--but here--to work!"
Fashioned at last into an arrowy shape, and welded by Perth to the shank,the steel soon pointed the end of the iron; and as the blacksmithwas about giving the barbs their final heat, prior to tempering them,he cried to Ahab to place the water-cask near.
"No, no--no water for that; I want it of the true death-temper.Ahoy, there! Tashtego, Queequeg, Daggoo! What say ye, pagans! Will yegive me as much blood as will cover this barb?" holding it high up.A cluster of dark nods replied, Yes. Three punctures were madein the heathen flesh, and the White Whale's barbs were then tempered.
"Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!"deliriously howled Ahab, as the malignant iron scorchinglydevoured the baptismal blood.
Now, mustering the spare poles from below, and selecting one of hickory,with the bark still investing it, Ahab fitted the end to the socketof the iron. A coil of new tow-line was then unwound, and some fathomsof it taken to the windlass, and stretched to a great tension.Pressing his foot upon it, till the rope hummed like a harp-string,then eagerly bending over it, and seeing no strandings, Ahab exclaimed,"Good! and now for the seizings."
At one extremity the rope was unstranded, and the separate spreadyarns were all braided and woven round the socket of the harpoon;the pole was then driven hard up into the socket; from the lowerend the rope was traced halfway along the pole's length,and firmly secured so, with inter-twistings of twine.This done, pole, iron, and rope--like the Three Fates--remained inseparable, and Ahab moodily stalked away with the weapon;the sound of his ivory leg, and the sound of the hickory pole,both hollowly ringing along every plank. But ere he enteredhis cabin, a light, unnatural, half-bantering, yet most piteoussound was heard. Oh! Pip, thy wretched laugh, thy idlebut unresting eye; all thy strange mummeries not unmeaninglyblended with the black tragedy of the melancholy ship,and mocked it!
Moby Dick; Or, The Whale Page 113