The Hyena — Moby-Dick

Hauled on deck last and still shaking water from his jacket, Ishmael meets the mood that shows up in the middle of real trouble. The universe looks like a practical joke he only half understands, and he suspects the joke is on him. Disaster, even death, feels like a friendly punch from an unseen joker. Whaling breeds that desperado philosophy, and he turns it on the Pequod's voyage and on the White Whale.

Queequeg, soaked and calm, lets him know that boats do get into this sort of mess often. Stubb smokes in the rain and says he has lowered for whales from a leaking ship in a gale off Cape Horn. Starbuck remains, in Stubb's account, the most careful mate alive, so driving onto a whale with the sail set in a squall counts as discretion. Flask tells Ishmael that an oarsman breaking his back while pulling rear-first into death's jaws is the law. Face the whale while backing water and the whale will give squint for squint.

Ishmael takes the three answers as the whole case. He must hand his life to whoever steers, sometimes a man about to stamp the boat under. Starbuck caused this particular swamp by pushing almost into the squall, and Starbuck is famous for heed. The larger chase still touches the White Whale. Ishmael goes below, makes his will, and names Queequeg lawyer, executor, and legatee. It is the fourth time he has done it at sea. A stone rolls off his heart. The days ahead feel like Lazarus's extra life, and his death sits locked in the chest. He rolls up his sleeves for a cool dive at it, and leaves the devil to fetch the hindmost.