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Chapter 36. The Quarter Deck. Enter A-hab, then all. It was not a great while after the

affair of the pipe, that one morning, shortly after breakfast, A-hab, as was as want,

ascended the cabin gangway to the deck. There, most sea captains usually walk at that hour,

as country gentleman, after the same meal, take a few turns in the garden. Soon, his

study ivory stride was heard, as too and fro he paced his old rounds, upon planks so

familiar to his tread, that they were all over-dented, like geological stones, with the peculiar

mark of his walk. Did you, fixably gaze too, upon that ribbed and dented brow? There also,

you would see still stranger footprints, the footprints of his one unsleeping, ever-pacing

thought.

But on the occasion in question, those dens looked deeper, even as his nervous step that

morning left a deeper mark. And so full of his thought was A-hab, that at every uniform

turn that he made, now at the main mast and now at the binocle, you could almost see

that thought turn in him as he turned, and pace in him as he paced. So, completely possessing

him, indeed, that it all but seemed the inward mold of every outer movement.

Did you mark him, flask, whispered stub, the chicks that in him pecks the shell, to

soon be out. The hours were on. A-hab, now shut up within his cabin, an on-pacing the deck,

...