Moby-Dick: The sermon to the sharks
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From chapter 64, "Stubb's Supper":
... though one or two instances
might be set down, touching the set terms, places, and occasions,
when sharks do most socially congregate, and most hilariously feast;
yet is there no conceivable time or occasion when you will find them
in such countless numbers, and in gayer or more jovial spirits,
than around a dead sperm whale, moored by night to a whaleship at sea.
If you have never seen that sight, then suspend your decision
about the propriety of devil-worship, and the expediency of
conciliating the devil.
... Stubb heeded not the mumblings of the banquet
that was going on so nigh him, no more than the sharks heeded
the smacking of his own epicurean lips.
"Cook, cook!--where's that old Fleece?" he cried at length,
widening his legs still further, as if to form a more secure
base for his supper; and, at the same time darting his fork
into the dish, as if stabbing with his lance; "cook, you cook!--
sail this way, cook!"
The old black...
came shambling along from his galley...
assisting his
step with his tongs, which, after a clumsy fashion, were made
of straightened iron hoops;
and came to a dead stop
on the opposite side of Stubb's sideboard; when, with both hands
folded before him, and resting on his two-legged cane, he bowed
his arched back still further over, at the same time sideways
inclining his head, so as to bring his best ear into play.
"Cook," said Stubb, rapidly lifting a rather reddish morsel
to his mouth, "don't you think this steak is rather overdone?
There are those sharks now over the side, don't you see they
prefer it tough and rare? What a shindy they are kicking up!
Cook, go and talk to 'em; tell 'em they are welcome to help
themselves civilly, and in moderation, but they must keep quiet.
Blast me, if I can hear my own voice. Away, cook, and deliver
my message. Here, take this lantern," snatching one from his sideboard;
"now then, go and preach to them!"
Sullenly taking the offered lantern, old Fleece limped across
the deck to the bulwarks; and then, with one hand drooping his light
low over the sea, so as to get a good view of his congregation,
with the other hand he solemnly flourished his tongs, and leaning
far over the side in a mumbling voice began addressing the sharks....
"Fellow-critters: I'se ordered here to say dat you must stop dat
dam noise dare. You hear? Stop dat dam smackin' ob de lips!
Massa Stubb say dat you can fill your dam bellies up to de hatchings,
but by Gor! you must stop dat dam racket!"
"Cook," here interposed Stubb, accompanying the word with a sudden slap
on the shoulder,-- "Cook! why, damn your eyes, you mustn't swear that way
when you're preaching. That's no way to convert sinners, Cook!"
"Who dat? Den preach to him yourself," sullenly turning to go.
"No, Cook; go on, go on."
"Well, den, Belubed fellow-critters:"--
"Right!" exclaimed Stubb, approvingly, "coax 'em to it, try that,"
and Fleece continued.
"Do you is all sharks, and by natur wery woracious, yet I zay to you,
fellow-critters, dat dat woraciousness--'top dat dam slappin' ob de tail!
How you tink to hear, 'spose you keep up such a dam slapping
and bitin' dare?"
"Cook," cried Stubb, collaring him, "I won't have that swearing.
Talk to 'em gentlemanly."
Once more the sermon proceeded.
"Your woraciousness, fellow-critters. I don't blame ye so much for;
dat is natur, and can't be helped; but to gobern dat wicked natur,
dat is de pint. You is sharks, sartin; but if you gobern de
shark in you, why den you be angel; for all angel is not'ing
more dan de shark well goberned. Now, look here, bred'ren, just
try wonst to be cibil, a helping yourselbs from dat whale.
Don't be tearin' de blubber out your neighbour's mout, I say.
Is not one shark dood right as toder to dat whale? And, by Gor, none on
you has de right to dat whale; dat whale belong to some one else.
I know some o' you has berry brig mout, brigger dan oders;
but den de brig mouts sometimes has de small bellies; so dat de
brigness of de mout is not to swallar wid, but to bit off de
blubber for de small fry ob sharks, dat can't get into de scrouge
to help demselves."
"Well done, old Fleece!" cried Stubb, "that's Christianity; go on."
"No use goin' on; de dam willains will keep a scrougin'
and slappin' each oder, Massa Stubb; dey don't hear one word;
no use a-preaching to such dam g'uttons as you call 'em,
till dare bellies is full, and dare bellies is bottomless;
and when dey do get 'em full, dey wont hear you den;
for den dey sink in de sea, go fast to sleep on de coral,
and can't hear noting at all, no more, for eber and eber."
"Upon my soul, I am about of the same opinion; so give
the benediction, Fleece, and I'll away to my supper."
Upon this, Fleece, holding both hands over the fishy mob,
raised his shrill voice, and cried--
"Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up de damndest row as ever you can;
fill your dam bellies 'till dey bust--and den die!"
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