Sanctuary

Chapter 2 – Weighted Hulls

When they returned to the ship, Starbuck could almost feel the expectancy in the eyes of the crew. Since they had anchored in the harbour, the hectic life aboard had dwindled down to a few mundane duties and many of them appeared to not know how to occupy themselves. Most now sat upon the deck, playing cards or gazing up at the azure sky. It felt bizarre to be in such maritime surroundings but not to have the sensation of movement, only the gentle roll of the waves beneath the stationary hull.

Weaving through their legs to the door that led down to Ahab's cabin, Starbuck was again visited by the burden of responsibility. It had been a frequent visitor knocking on the doors of his mind and it pressed heavily upon him again to see their blank countenances. Good Lord, these men looked like they had had the souls sucked out of them! He had to chide himself for such a thought. Yet their stares – they made him feel undeniably uncomfortable, not obviously so, but enough to stir up some unease. He hurried to Ahab's cabin, hoping the old man would open his ears to him.

Captain Ahab was pouring over his meticulously detailed charts once more with them spread over the desk. Starbuck approached the open door tentatively, trying to make as little noise as the creaking planks would allow lest he interrupted him at the wrong moment. For a long while, he did not notice him, or chose not to pay heed to him, and remained engrossed in the world of black twisting lines on the paper. He must know them by heart now, Starbuck mused. It disturbed him.

''Captain,'' he said eventually, softly at first as if he did not trust his own voice. Ahab's fingers continued to run over the sheets. Behind his hunched figure, Starbuck became aware of something moving. He watched as the form turned and the cat-like eyes of Fedallah pierced him. He jolted involuntarily, restraining a surprised gasp, but at the disturbance, Ahab finally raised his head. Now two pairs of sharp eyes scrutinised him.

''Sir,'' he said, then regaining his composure – ''sir. I have successfully procured some provisions of fruit from the island stores. I shall take some men to collect them and bring them back to the ship.''

''Very good, Mr Starbuck.'' The charts again captured Ahab's attention. Yet Starbuck, appearing to have a dark weight hovering over him, lingered in the doorway, twisting his hands behind his back. He dwelt again on the faces of the men, the quiet struggle that had seemed to emanate from the ship, the forests of the island… The more he considered it, the more important a venture it became, not just for the necessity of the food.

But St Helena was but a bundle of lines on Ahab's maps, and none of these spoke of the white whale's capture. They had not strayed from the captain's mad course but they had paused on it and because of this lull, Starbuck imagined he could almost see the coil wound up inside Ahab. It twisted his already mauled expressions and added more darkness, more bleakness to the shadows falling over him.

''Is there more thou wishes to say, Mr Starbuck?'' His words broke Starbuck's reverie. He realised he had been staring contemplatively at the old man throughout his thoughts. Fedallah snaked past them out of the door, never once taking his eyes off him. He had an air around him that made Starbuck, not entirely unconsciously, shy away.

Ahab still watched him. He met his gaze for a moment then lowered it to the charts. ''Yes, sir,'' he said lowly, seriously. ''St Helena is home to a great forest. Mr Stubb and I were informed that we may reap a bountiful harvest if we take up the hunt –''

''Mr Starbuck, why dost thou turnest from me when speaking? Are thou so afraid me as to not look me in the eyes?''

The words stung Starbuck, rousing something deep inside of him. He lifted his head from gazing at the tangled lines on the charts and looked defiantly into those of Ahab's face. ''Sir, if we should make such an endeavour now, we will not disturb the heat of the future hunt.''

Ahab paused for a time that seemed longer than it actually was. Starbuck kept his gaze. ''Is the hunt on sea not enough for thee, Mr Starbuck?'' he said.

''Sir, the men deserve such a break. It shall be but two days.''

''I feel as though me and thee have uttered these words before, Mr Starbuck. We have ceased our voyage on thy own desire. Does that not satisfy thee?''

''It shall be but two days, sir.''

Ahab looked from Starbuck's imploring eyes back down to those terrible pages. Starbuck's heart once again sank. In the space behind him, he heard a low, quiet laugh and turning to leave, he saw the dark figure of Fedallah beneath the companion-way, only the white of his teeth and eyes visible through the gaps. He tried to pay him no heed as he ascended. But a voice soon drifted from below.

''Two days, Mr Starbuck.'' He stopped. ''And no more.''

Ahab was still tracing the lines. Starbuck watched him for a long, thoughtful moment, somewhat believing he had misheard the words. Before he could say anymore, he hurried back up onto the deck.

The crew immediately came to life at Stubb's words that spoke of a two-day long foraging mission. Like so many bees that had suddenly been shaken in their hive, they flitted about the deck and down to the cabins, gathering the necessary provisions for such a hunt. Many of them quickly became so eager that they did not regard any attempts at organisation and for the first time, they turned from a well-kept, tight group accustomed to taking and obeying orders into more of a rabble.

Starbuck did not have time to dwell on this observation, however, as this fever had spread infectiously to his fellow mates and they appeared to be in a frenzy to leave as soon as humanly possible, like it was absolutely indispensible to do so. He and Stubb fetched out the harpoons and the lances, weapons which, used by skilful hands could come to great use on land and sea. And under the watchful eye of Ahab, Starbuck procured two muskets. At the sight of them, Flask seemed to light up with some inner, savage glow. It made the first mate nigh on shudder to see such an abrupt, barbaric wave crash over them. Not even the raising of their first whale had produced such animality.

But Stubb still laughed. ''Oh Mr Starbuck!'' said he. ''Why must ye always look so down in the mouth? We are going a-hunting on the land of some wild island!''

Yes, savage they may be, Starbuck thought, but the most friendly kind of savages, surely. And 'tis by my doing to send them ashore. Let them wreak their momentarily free hearts upon the woods of St Helena!

And so they lowered the boats, weapons glistening in a primal show of strength, and away to the beaches they rowed, all the while singing merrily. Yet, in his serene quietude, Starbuck found he could not draw his eyes long from the ship as she floated silently behind them, still sending ripples under their weighted hulls.

TBC