The Shark Massacre — Moby-Dick

When a sperm whale is brought alongside at night, the crew usually does not start cutting it up right away. That job is hard and takes all hands. So they take in the sails, lock the wheel, and send everyone below to sleep until morning. Two men at a time stay on deck for an hour each to keep watch.

But on the Pacific Line near the equator, that plan will not work. Huge numbers of sharks gather around the dead whale tied to the ship. If the crew waited six hours, only bones would be left by morning.

In other parts of the ocean, men can drive sharks away by hitting them with sharp whaling spades. Sometimes that only makes the sharks more active. On the Pequod, the sharks are so thick that a stranger might think the whole sea was one giant cheese and the sharks were maggots crawling in it.

After supper, Stubb sets the anchor watch. Queequeg and another sailor go on deck. They hang cutting stages over the side and lower three lanterns. The light shines on the dark water. The two men drive their long spades into shark skulls again and again.

In the foam and chaos, they do not always hit their mark. The sharks snap at each other. They bend around and bite their own guts. The guts seem to get swallowed and pushed out again through the wounds.

Even dead sharks are dangerous. Life seems to linger in their bones and joints. When one dead shark is pulled on deck for its skin, Queequeg tries to close its jaw. It nearly bites his hand off.

Queequeg lifts his hurt hand up and down. He says he does not care whether a Fiji god or a Nantucket god made the shark. But whoever made the shark, he says, must be one dam Indian. The night watch is not rest. It is killing sharks to save the whale they already caught.