In this episode, we dive into the depths of Herman Melville's classic, "Moby Dick," as adapted for radio by Ernest Knoi. The Columbia Workshop brings this epic tale to life with a special musical score by Norman Lockwood, conducted by Frederick Steiner, and directed by Howard G. Barnes. We follow Ishmael, who, seeking adventure, joins the whaling ship Pequod. The ship, led by the enigmatic Captain Ahab, embarks on a perilous journey across the Atlantic and into the Pacific, driven by Ahab's obsessive quest for vengeance against the legendary white whale, Moby Dick.
As the Pequod sails, we meet a diverse crew, including the steadfast Starbuck, the indifferent Stubb, and the savage harpooners from distant lands. The tension builds as Ahab reveals his monomaniacal pursuit of Moby Dick, a creature that once claimed his leg. The episode captures the relentless drive and madness of Ahab, as well as the camaraderie and challenges faced by the crew. Join us next week for the conclusion of this gripping adaptation, as the Pequod continues its fateful chase.
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The
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Columbia workshop. Radio's foremost laboratory of writing and production techniques presents a two part adaptation of a great American classic of the sea, Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Herman Melville's place in literature is now securely established. He's one of the great novelists of all times. Moby Dick has been adapted for radio by Ernest Knoi. A special musical score has been composed by Norman Lockwood and is conducted by Frederick Steiner. The two separate parts of the story will be directed to today at the same time by Howard g Barnes.
The Columbia workshop now presents part one of Moby Dick.
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Call me Ishmael. Some years ago in eighteen forties, having little money in my pocket and nothing to interest me on shore, I took myself to the old island of Nantucket. The heap of sand anchored off New England returns its weight in whale oil every year. Downward high to the wharf with the whaling ship, Pequod, wallowed in the tidewater, swarming with landsmen, hauling aboard supplies. She was small, seasoned, weather stained the typhoons and calms of all Croatoceans. The rails and sheep blocks were fitted out with whale bone. A noble craft, but somehow most melancholy.
This is where I climbed up to the porta deck, looked about for someone with authority to sign up on this vessel for the three years whaling crews. At last, I spied him. He was brown and brawny like most old seamen, and he talked for the antique speech of the Nantucket Quaker brethren, peppered with scowls from many hard gales and wintry watches of a lifetime at sea. Sea. I stepped up and called to him, is this the captain of the Pequod? Supposedly it was. I was thinking of shipping. Yeah.
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You see that no man tugged up? Has there ever been in a stone boat with a wheeled flute weighing tattoo, and their ribs? I've been on several voyages in the merchant service, sir. Merchant service behind. Talk about that lingo to me. Come, sir. I I suppose now you feel considerable proud to having served in those merchant ships. But this is a whaler, lad. And,
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what takes thee, whaling? I wanna see what whaling is and see the world.
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Wanna see what whaling is. Art thou the man to pitch a harpoon down a live whale's throat and then jump after it? Have you ever clapped praise on captain Ahab? Oh, are you not the ship's captain? Nay. Maybe captain Peleg, the owner. Ahab's captain. Ahab with his leg of chiseled ivory. His leg was lost, sir? Devout it was. Chewed up, crunched by the monstrousest Palmer City whale who ever chipped aboard.
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Well, I'm still bound to go a willing, sir.
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Well, you know, may as well sign the papers right up. Here's the book. Three year voyage days. I know.
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There. And can I see the captain And what does that want to be had? Why a two No matter.
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I can not see him now. Captain Ahab's a queer man. Some say a sick one. I can be forewarned. He lost his leg the last voyage by that accursed whale, and he's been moody. Desperate moody
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and savage. But among sailors, a missing leg is common. Ahab's above the common.
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He's been in college as well as among cannibals, been used to deeper wonder than the waves, and fixed his harpoon in mightier falls and whales. Hey, lad. Mark you well, Ahab, and hold him in awe.
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In the next day, there was a great activity aboard the Pequod. A whaling ship demands of three years housekeeping away from grocers, doctors, bakers, and bakers. The whaler frequents lonely seas without hospitable harbours. Hence, spare boats, spare spas, spare lines and harpoons. Everything but a spare captain in a duplicate ship. Then with the last supplies, we're battened down in the hole. Mister Starbuck,
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I'm going ashore. Aye, sir. Get me head below. Take charge, Starbuck. This day, three years, I'll have a hot supper smoking for you. Old man took it. Goodbye, cap and pellet. Not to you, Starbuck.
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Strike the gangway.
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Now then, and the capstone. Good thunder, jump. Spring now. Heave. Heave, press your break your backs. Here's anyone. So to heave
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to? Aye, sir. Will man the good captain can run it around? We'll heave up the anchor to this gully sound. For we're bound to the Rio Grande, and that's the way
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old,
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dry. And so with the music of the shanty and clanking capstan, the beak wide slipped away from the what? A cold night breeze blew. A screaming girl flew overhead. It plunged blindly like fate into the lone Atlantic. For several days after leaving Nantucket, nothing above hatches was seen of captain Ahab. The ship was under the direction of the mates. The chief among them was Starbuck, the native of Nantucket and the Quaker. An earnest man, a staid and steadfast man with a deep natural reverence. Courageous, but he had no fancy to lower boats after a whale with a sun sunk beneath the rim of the ocean.
The second mate was stubborn. He was a Cape Cod man taking paddles as they came with an indifferent air. He presided over his whale boat as the most deadly encounter were but at dinner and his crew invited guests. A long usage head for Stubb converted the jaws of death into an easy chair. Like his nose, his short black little pipe was one of the regular features of his face. When when Stub dressed, instead of first putting his legs into his trousers, he put his pipe into his mouth. Then there were the haupunas. Savage men from the wild races of the earth.
Weequeg, a cannibal from the South Seas. Peshtigo, a gay head Indian from the Vineyards. And Dagu, a giant chieftain in Central Africa. South we sail, leaving behind the merciless winter.
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Then, on one of those gray and gloomy mornings,
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I mounted on the deck with a full moon watch. And there, on the quarter deck, the wind beating against his gray hair and tawny face and neck, was captain Ahab. Like a fevered beast, he paced the quarter deck. And throughout the ship,
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echoed the horrible,
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heavy thump of the gleaming ivory post that served him for a lake.
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Abbot. Mister Abbot. Aye, captain. Bend everybody up. Everybody? Aye. As said, sir, come down everybody up. Oh, yeah. Who then? Ounce of gold?
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Your gold men, do you see it?
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Never cut me that hammer. I see. Look at that gold shine men like the sun. The hammer, captain. Now, listen well, whosoever of you raises me a white headed whale with a wrinkled brow and a crooked jaw, whosoever of you raises me that white whale with three holes punctured in his stabboard fluke, he shall have this ounce of Spanish gold. Look here now. Look here. I'll nail this gold piece to the back. White whale man. Skin your eyes for him. Look sharp for white water. If you see but a bubble, sing out. Captain Ahab, that white whale must be the same as some call Moby Dick. Moby Dick. Do you know the white whale? Does he fat tail a little, sir, before he goes down?
And has he a curious mouth too? Very pushy for a pharmacy? Has he three harpoon irons in his hide, Captain, all twisted around? Aye. The harpoons lie all twisted and wrenched at him. Death and devils, men, it is Moby Dick you've seen. Moby Dick. I was that accursed white whale that sliced me, cheered off my leg. I'll chase him round Good Hope and round the Horn and round the Norway Baelstrom and round Perdition's flame. But, captain, that's what you have shipped for, to chase that white whale shot? Why for the white whale? A shot not chase the white whale? Hey, Cap Naehab.
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I be here in this ocean to kill whales for my living, not to be killed by them for theirs. How many barrels of whale oil will thy vengeance gain us in Nantucket market? Money is not the measure, Starbuck.
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My vengeance will fetch a great premium here within my breast. Vengeance on a dumb brute had robbed thee of thy leg from blindness instinct. Madness, captain Ahab. Blasphemy. Starbuck, I hate the white vile. I'll spend the rest of my life to hunt him. I see in him outrageous strength and malice. The unknown, Starbuck, and I'll search it out. Talk not to me, you blasphemy. I'd expect the sun if as a consultant bait captain. Take thine eye off me, Starbuck. Yes. So, thou palest, thou canst not stand against me. Now bring death to
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I, I, Ishmael, shouted with the rest. And stronger, I shouted because of the dread in my soul. But he was now in his cabin, Buddha dark Ahab, madness maddened, searching a whole ocean, straining his ears with a call from the masthead, would launch us on the path of the white whale, Moby Dick. Round the Horn we sailed into the vast cruising ground of the Pacific. The days were sultry and the rolling swell of the ocean rocked the ship into a doze. High above the decks to look out scanned the desert of water. Aloft in the cross trees was Tashtego, the gay head Indian harpooner.
Suddenly he stiffened.
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Here, mister Sabock. I'm taking a boat. But, sir, no captain Here's the one that does. Look ye, mister Sabock. I have shipped my own crew, wild ones, Abie, from the far islands living on the smell of blood. Now lower a wing. Aye, sir. Blow away. Away. Mrs. Darbuck, do you keep your belt away from mine? Aye, sir. Unship your orders. Horse. Way back now. Pull. Pull. As she blows again, get ahead. Pull. Pull, then. Pull. Pull. Break your back, Colt. Pull for miles of Sparboil. Pull as far as your eyes. Nice. He blows again. Who be in the captain's boat? Never mind.
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Maybe but five more heads to help. It's Moby Dick that there's a lot of it, but it ain't the white whale today. So full.
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Hey, wait. What? Get away. He's gone. Salvage. That blasted lumber. Quick, quick, straight up. I Seeing out if you but see the shadow of a whale. No. No. Nothing. You go down the bottom shore. His hope. Now give it to him.
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The whale ran with madame Furey. They held him close and handed him with three dots. And then, mister Starbuck,
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he spouts black blood. Aye.
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He's dead.
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The whale was dead, wallowing in the blood of his bursting heart. For the whale, Markio, is like you and I. For only 70 feet of length, his blood runs hot, till let into the cold sea by Starbucks' lamps. But now, our monster corpse must be hauled back to the ship. Hour after hour, the boats pull at the slaughtered whale, and long after darkness settled on the ocean. Three lights at the Pequod masthead masthead dimly guided our way. The whale's great length pounded against the ship's side.
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Secure the whale for the night, Starbuck. Aye, sir.
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Now then, get those chains rigged. Ready there. Heave.
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Heave. Heave.
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Tied by the head to the stern and by the tail to the bow, the whale now lies with its black hull close to the Pequod's. And at midnight, the weary boat crews drop into their bunks to rest against the morrow. Next day, the men are back to the whale bright and early. Up to the ring, swing the enormous cutting tackles, then the giant blubberhook swings out over the whale. Really heaving.
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Now again slowly. Bring
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it out to the left. Slovak and Stubbs, swung over the the side and balancing on the slippery corpse, chop a hole in the mighty flank of the dead whale. The blubber hook swings down from the rigging and hooks into the bleeding hole. Stubbech slices a semicircle around the hook with his cutting spade. Ready now.
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She's set.
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Take her away. On board, the men fling themselves against the capstan. The whole ship heels over to strain. Every bolt in her starts. She tumbles, swimmers, and a swift startling snap in the first long strip of blubber is peeled off and hauled into the air. Round and round swims the whale as the blubber is stripped off like the rind of an orange. Then, lowered into the hold of the ship, the nimble hands heeled body of the whale minus the head floats slowly astern, followed by the swarms of snapping sharks. Now, only the giant head hangs by the Pequod's side.
Through the rigging filters the cold, light of the moon, playing upon the blood dripping head to the dead whale. Alone on the quarter deck strode Ahab. Then holding himself erect, he fixed his burning eye on the black and hooded whale head hanging there.
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Speak, thou vast and venerable head. Speak, mighty head, and tell us a secret thing that's in thee. Of all divers, thou hast dived the deepest, where unrecorded means and navies rust and anchors rot with bones of millions of the ground. There in that awful water land was thy most familiar home. Thou hast slipped by many a sailor's side ahead. Thou hast seen enough to split the planets and make an infidel of Abraham. And not one syllable is
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So we sailed over into the green Pacific, roaring at every spout. On the mast, the coin of Spanish gold gleamed. Every lookout paused to stare at it it as he climbed the masthead. And Ahab, Ahab paced on his quarter deck till sunset, his keen eyes searching into the swell, longing for the sight of the bushy spout, wrinkled white forehead at Moby Dick.
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The sun, dry heat upon my brow. Toward time was when, as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light delights me not. Gifted with high perception, I lack the low enjoying power. Cursed. Cursed most subtly and most malignantly. Cursed in the midst of paradise. What I've dared, I've willed. They think me mad. But it's Moby Dick. Moby Dick, the white whale. Moby Dick. I, Ahab, will search thee out. Hunt thee. Though the green seas and howling winds should rise and drive the peepod under. Even if heaven hurl burning bolts, would Ahab hunt the white whale?
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Monstrous. What to drive the ship? The men's
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ship? The crew? They move at my will. My mind alone directs this microcosm. This world, this universe bounded by hook and planks, sailing on an ocean of eternity, seeking Moby Dick. Nay, that's mad. Trains havoc. Rebuild. And yet must thou obey the will of Ahab. Downhill, we'll hail that vessel. Downhill. Uhoy. Uhoy the delight. Uhoy the beakwise. Have seen the white whale.
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Oh, me, Dick. Aye. Look,
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Not born? Here ye, Nantucket Earth. In this hand, I hold his death. Disarmed will sink the harpoon to draw the black blood of death.
[00:26:05] Unknown:
Aye. That's what you say. See that hammock on the deck. I bury but one to five stock men who were alive yesterday. Four were buried before they died. You sail upon their tombs. I I've seen the white whale. Whale away. 20 leagues. Hence, nor by nor east. Very well.
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Race forward. Upheld. Nor by nor east. East. Cabnahan. Aye, mister Saba. Captain of Thump's turn up considerable oil from the bills. The old casks below must have sprung a bad leak. So we want a Burton's heave to and break out. A Burton's and break out. Now that we bear down on Moby Dick like the threatening typhoon, heave two for a week to tinker a parcel of old hoops. Either do that, sir, wasting a day more oil than we can make good in a year. Have ye not Moby Dick excited? But we've come 20,000
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miles to get his worth savings. So it is, Davock, if we get it. I meant the oil in the hole. And I, the white whale. Let the cast fleet, the world fleet. And who can stop it up in the deep loaded hole, or hook to plug it in life's howling gale? Let the oil cast fleet, stabber. I'll not heed too. What will the ola say, sir? Let the owner stand on Nantucket's Beach and out yell the typhoon. Uncaptured. Owners. Owners. As if the owners were my conscience. Look, ye, the only real owner of anything is its commander. And how my conscience
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is in this ship's heels? Ham may have a better man than I might pass over in thee, but he would resent in a younger man. I or in a happier. But dost thou then so much as dare to question me begun? Nay, sir. I do entreat, and I dare to be forbearing. Shall we not understand each other better, captain Ahab? Sabbath, feed out this pistol.
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There's one god that's lord over the earth and one captain that's lord over the peapod. Put up thy pistol, captain.
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I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck, though it's laugh. But let Ahab beware of Ahab.
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Beware of thyself, old man. Now, our brave Starbuck, but thou still be careful, bravery, that. Ahab. Beware, Ahab. Aye. There is something there. But Moby Dick is close. The white whale. Unfurl at the gallant holes. Shake out the reefs. Storm and Ares. Please sail for Moby Dick. All the the world split. He shall spout black blood, though we chase him three times round the horn. Hey, that's Ahab's fate. Though grinning death with pointing finger, ride the bowsprit as we sail. The way heaps, stab it, and the swarming crew sink downward, gasping through the pounding waves.
Let's help. We sail
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for Moby Dick.
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You have just heard part one of the Columbia workshop radio version of Moby Dick by the great American novelist Herman Melville. The script was adapted by Ernest Kennoy with a special musical score composed by Norman Lockwood and conducted by Frederick Steiner and directed by Howard g Barnes. Appearing in the role of captain Ahab is Neil O'Malley. Ishmael who tells the story is played by Sydney Smith and Starbuck by Charles Irving. Next week the Columbia workshop will present the second and concluding part of Moby Dick as the relentless tyrant of the good ship Pequod drives on in single-minded lust for the black blood of the fabulous white whale. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
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The
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Columbia workshop. Radio's foremost laboratory of writing and production techniques presents a two part adaptation of a great American classic of the sea, Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Herman Melville's place in literature is now securely established. He's one of the great novelists of all times. Moby Dick has been adapted for radio by Ernest Knoi. A special musical score has been composed by Norman Lockwood and is conducted by Frederick Steiner. The two separate parts of the story will be directed to today at the same time by Howard g Barnes.
The Columbia workshop now presents part one of Moby Dick.
[00:02:17] Unknown:
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago in eighteen forties, having little money in my pocket and nothing to interest me on shore, I took myself to the old island of Nantucket. The heap of sand anchored off New England returns its weight in whale oil every year. Downward high to the wharf with the whaling ship, Pequod, wallowed in the tidewater, swarming with landsmen, hauling aboard supplies. She was small, seasoned, weather stained the typhoons and calms of all Croatoceans. The rails and sheep blocks were fitted out with whale bone. A noble craft, but somehow most melancholy.
This is where I climbed up to the porta deck, looked about for someone with authority to sign up on this vessel for the three years whaling crews. At last, I spied him. He was brown and brawny like most old seamen, and he talked for the antique speech of the Nantucket Quaker brethren, peppered with scowls from many hard gales and wintry watches of a lifetime at sea. Sea. I stepped up and called to him, is this the captain of the Pequod? Supposedly it was. I was thinking of shipping. Yeah.
[00:03:56] Unknown:
You see that no man tugged up? Has there ever been in a stone boat with a wheeled flute weighing tattoo, and their ribs? I've been on several voyages in the merchant service, sir. Merchant service behind. Talk about that lingo to me. Come, sir. I I suppose now you feel considerable proud to having served in those merchant ships. But this is a whaler, lad. And,
[00:04:19] Unknown:
what takes thee, whaling? I wanna see what whaling is and see the world.
[00:04:25] Unknown:
Wanna see what whaling is. Art thou the man to pitch a harpoon down a live whale's throat and then jump after it? Have you ever clapped praise on captain Ahab? Oh, are you not the ship's captain? Nay. Maybe captain Peleg, the owner. Ahab's captain. Ahab with his leg of chiseled ivory. His leg was lost, sir? Devout it was. Chewed up, crunched by the monstrousest Palmer City whale who ever chipped aboard.
[00:04:53] Unknown:
Well, I'm still bound to go a willing, sir.
[00:04:56] Unknown:
Well, you know, may as well sign the papers right up. Here's the book. Three year voyage days. I know.
[00:05:05] Unknown:
There. And can I see the captain And what does that want to be had? Why a two No matter.
[00:05:11] Unknown:
I can not see him now. Captain Ahab's a queer man. Some say a sick one. I can be forewarned. He lost his leg the last voyage by that accursed whale, and he's been moody. Desperate moody
[00:05:27] Unknown:
and savage. But among sailors, a missing leg is common. Ahab's above the common.
[00:05:32] Unknown:
He's been in college as well as among cannibals, been used to deeper wonder than the waves, and fixed his harpoon in mightier falls and whales. Hey, lad. Mark you well, Ahab, and hold him in awe.
[00:05:56] Unknown:
In the next day, there was a great activity aboard the Pequod. A whaling ship demands of three years housekeeping away from grocers, doctors, bakers, and bakers. The whaler frequents lonely seas without hospitable harbours. Hence, spare boats, spare spas, spare lines and harpoons. Everything but a spare captain in a duplicate ship. Then with the last supplies, we're battened down in the hole. Mister Starbuck,
[00:06:22] Unknown:
I'm going ashore. Aye, sir. Get me head below. Take charge, Starbuck. This day, three years, I'll have a hot supper smoking for you. Old man took it. Goodbye, cap and pellet. Not to you, Starbuck.
[00:06:37] Unknown:
Strike the gangway.
[00:06:41] Unknown:
Now then, and the capstone. Good thunder, jump. Spring now. Heave. Heave, press your break your backs. Here's anyone. So to heave
[00:06:56] Unknown:
to? Aye, sir. Will man the good captain can run it around? We'll heave up the anchor to this gully sound. For we're bound to the Rio Grande, and that's the way
[00:07:34] Unknown:
old,
[00:07:36] Unknown:
dry. And so with the music of the shanty and clanking capstan, the beak wide slipped away from the what? A cold night breeze blew. A screaming girl flew overhead. It plunged blindly like fate into the lone Atlantic. For several days after leaving Nantucket, nothing above hatches was seen of captain Ahab. The ship was under the direction of the mates. The chief among them was Starbuck, the native of Nantucket and the Quaker. An earnest man, a staid and steadfast man with a deep natural reverence. Courageous, but he had no fancy to lower boats after a whale with a sun sunk beneath the rim of the ocean.
The second mate was stubborn. He was a Cape Cod man taking paddles as they came with an indifferent air. He presided over his whale boat as the most deadly encounter were but at dinner and his crew invited guests. A long usage head for Stubb converted the jaws of death into an easy chair. Like his nose, his short black little pipe was one of the regular features of his face. When when Stub dressed, instead of first putting his legs into his trousers, he put his pipe into his mouth. Then there were the haupunas. Savage men from the wild races of the earth.
Weequeg, a cannibal from the South Seas. Peshtigo, a gay head Indian from the Vineyards. And Dagu, a giant chieftain in Central Africa. South we sail, leaving behind the merciless winter.
[00:09:41] Unknown:
Then, on one of those gray and gloomy mornings,
[00:09:45] Unknown:
I mounted on the deck with a full moon watch. And there, on the quarter deck, the wind beating against his gray hair and tawny face and neck, was captain Ahab. Like a fevered beast, he paced the quarter deck. And throughout the ship,
[00:10:11] Unknown:
echoed the horrible,
[00:10:12] Unknown:
heavy thump of the gleaming ivory post that served him for a lake.
[00:10:18] Unknown:
Abbot. Mister Abbot. Aye, captain. Bend everybody up. Everybody? Aye. As said, sir, come down everybody up. Oh, yeah. Who then? Ounce of gold?
[00:10:57] Unknown:
Your gold men, do you see it?
[00:10:59] Unknown:
Never cut me that hammer. I see. Look at that gold shine men like the sun. The hammer, captain. Now, listen well, whosoever of you raises me a white headed whale with a wrinkled brow and a crooked jaw, whosoever of you raises me that white whale with three holes punctured in his stabboard fluke, he shall have this ounce of Spanish gold. Look here now. Look here. I'll nail this gold piece to the back. White whale man. Skin your eyes for him. Look sharp for white water. If you see but a bubble, sing out. Captain Ahab, that white whale must be the same as some call Moby Dick. Moby Dick. Do you know the white whale? Does he fat tail a little, sir, before he goes down?
And has he a curious mouth too? Very pushy for a pharmacy? Has he three harpoon irons in his hide, Captain, all twisted around? Aye. The harpoons lie all twisted and wrenched at him. Death and devils, men, it is Moby Dick you've seen. Moby Dick. I was that accursed white whale that sliced me, cheered off my leg. I'll chase him round Good Hope and round the Horn and round the Norway Baelstrom and round Perdition's flame. But, captain, that's what you have shipped for, to chase that white whale shot? Why for the white whale? A shot not chase the white whale? Hey, Cap Naehab.
[00:13:06] Unknown:
I be here in this ocean to kill whales for my living, not to be killed by them for theirs. How many barrels of whale oil will thy vengeance gain us in Nantucket market? Money is not the measure, Starbuck.
[00:13:20] Unknown:
My vengeance will fetch a great premium here within my breast. Vengeance on a dumb brute had robbed thee of thy leg from blindness instinct. Madness, captain Ahab. Blasphemy. Starbuck, I hate the white vile. I'll spend the rest of my life to hunt him. I see in him outrageous strength and malice. The unknown, Starbuck, and I'll search it out. Talk not to me, you blasphemy. I'd expect the sun if as a consultant bait captain. Take thine eye off me, Starbuck. Yes. So, thou palest, thou canst not stand against me. Now bring death to
[00:14:27] Unknown:
I, I, Ishmael, shouted with the rest. And stronger, I shouted because of the dread in my soul. But he was now in his cabin, Buddha dark Ahab, madness maddened, searching a whole ocean, straining his ears with a call from the masthead, would launch us on the path of the white whale, Moby Dick. Round the Horn we sailed into the vast cruising ground of the Pacific. The days were sultry and the rolling swell of the ocean rocked the ship into a doze. High above the decks to look out scanned the desert of water. Aloft in the cross trees was Tashtego, the gay head Indian harpooner.
Suddenly he stiffened.
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Here, mister Sabock. I'm taking a boat. But, sir, no captain Here's the one that does. Look ye, mister Sabock. I have shipped my own crew, wild ones, Abie, from the far islands living on the smell of blood. Now lower a wing. Aye, sir. Blow away. Away. Mrs. Darbuck, do you keep your belt away from mine? Aye, sir. Unship your orders. Horse. Way back now. Pull. Pull. As she blows again, get ahead. Pull. Pull, then. Pull. Pull. Break your back, Colt. Pull for miles of Sparboil. Pull as far as your eyes. Nice. He blows again. Who be in the captain's boat? Never mind.
[00:16:45] Unknown:
Maybe but five more heads to help. It's Moby Dick that there's a lot of it, but it ain't the white whale today. So full.
[00:16:53] Unknown:
Hey, wait. What? Get away. He's gone. Salvage. That blasted lumber. Quick, quick, straight up. I Seeing out if you but see the shadow of a whale. No. No. Nothing. You go down the bottom shore. His hope. Now give it to him.
[00:18:01] Unknown:
The whale ran with madame Furey. They held him close and handed him with three dots. And then, mister Starbuck,
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he spouts black blood. Aye.
[00:18:15] Unknown:
He's dead.
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The whale was dead, wallowing in the blood of his bursting heart. For the whale, Markio, is like you and I. For only 70 feet of length, his blood runs hot, till let into the cold sea by Starbucks' lamps. But now, our monster corpse must be hauled back to the ship. Hour after hour, the boats pull at the slaughtered whale, and long after darkness settled on the ocean. Three lights at the Pequod masthead masthead dimly guided our way. The whale's great length pounded against the ship's side.
[00:19:02] Unknown:
Secure the whale for the night, Starbuck. Aye, sir.
[00:19:05] Unknown:
Now then, get those chains rigged. Ready there. Heave.
[00:19:10] Unknown:
Heave. Heave.
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Tied by the head to the stern and by the tail to the bow, the whale now lies with its black hull close to the Pequod's. And at midnight, the weary boat crews drop into their bunks to rest against the morrow. Next day, the men are back to the whale bright and early. Up to the ring, swing the enormous cutting tackles, then the giant blubberhook swings out over the whale. Really heaving.
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Now again slowly. Bring
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it out to the left. Slovak and Stubbs, swung over the the side and balancing on the slippery corpse, chop a hole in the mighty flank of the dead whale. The blubber hook swings down from the rigging and hooks into the bleeding hole. Stubbech slices a semicircle around the hook with his cutting spade. Ready now.
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She's set.
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Take her away. On board, the men fling themselves against the capstan. The whole ship heels over to strain. Every bolt in her starts. She tumbles, swimmers, and a swift startling snap in the first long strip of blubber is peeled off and hauled into the air. Round and round swims the whale as the blubber is stripped off like the rind of an orange. Then, lowered into the hold of the ship, the nimble hands heeled body of the whale minus the head floats slowly astern, followed by the swarms of snapping sharks. Now, only the giant head hangs by the Pequod's side.
Through the rigging filters the cold, light of the moon, playing upon the blood dripping head to the dead whale. Alone on the quarter deck strode Ahab. Then holding himself erect, he fixed his burning eye on the black and hooded whale head hanging there.
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Speak, thou vast and venerable head. Speak, mighty head, and tell us a secret thing that's in thee. Of all divers, thou hast dived the deepest, where unrecorded means and navies rust and anchors rot with bones of millions of the ground. There in that awful water land was thy most familiar home. Thou hast slipped by many a sailor's side ahead. Thou hast seen enough to split the planets and make an infidel of Abraham. And not one syllable is
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So we sailed over into the green Pacific, roaring at every spout. On the mast, the coin of Spanish gold gleamed. Every lookout paused to stare at it it as he climbed the masthead. And Ahab, Ahab paced on his quarter deck till sunset, his keen eyes searching into the swell, longing for the sight of the bushy spout, wrinkled white forehead at Moby Dick.
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The sun, dry heat upon my brow. Toward time was when, as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light delights me not. Gifted with high perception, I lack the low enjoying power. Cursed. Cursed most subtly and most malignantly. Cursed in the midst of paradise. What I've dared, I've willed. They think me mad. But it's Moby Dick. Moby Dick, the white whale. Moby Dick. I, Ahab, will search thee out. Hunt thee. Though the green seas and howling winds should rise and drive the peepod under. Even if heaven hurl burning bolts, would Ahab hunt the white whale?
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Monstrous. What to drive the ship? The men's
[00:24:57] Unknown:
ship? The crew? They move at my will. My mind alone directs this microcosm. This world, this universe bounded by hook and planks, sailing on an ocean of eternity, seeking Moby Dick. Nay, that's mad. Trains havoc. Rebuild. And yet must thou obey the will of Ahab. Downhill, we'll hail that vessel. Downhill. Uhoy. Uhoy the delight. Uhoy the beakwise. Have seen the white whale.
[00:25:36] Unknown:
Oh, me, Dick. Aye. Look,
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Not born? Here ye, Nantucket Earth. In this hand, I hold his death. Disarmed will sink the harpoon to draw the black blood of death.
[00:26:05] Unknown:
Aye. That's what you say. See that hammock on the deck. I bury but one to five stock men who were alive yesterday. Four were buried before they died. You sail upon their tombs. I I've seen the white whale. Whale away. 20 leagues. Hence, nor by nor east. Very well.
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Race forward. Upheld. Nor by nor east. East. Cabnahan. Aye, mister Saba. Captain of Thump's turn up considerable oil from the bills. The old casks below must have sprung a bad leak. So we want a Burton's heave to and break out. A Burton's and break out. Now that we bear down on Moby Dick like the threatening typhoon, heave two for a week to tinker a parcel of old hoops. Either do that, sir, wasting a day more oil than we can make good in a year. Have ye not Moby Dick excited? But we've come 20,000
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miles to get his worth savings. So it is, Davock, if we get it. I meant the oil in the hole. And I, the white whale. Let the cast fleet, the world fleet. And who can stop it up in the deep loaded hole, or hook to plug it in life's howling gale? Let the oil cast fleet, stabber. I'll not heed too. What will the ola say, sir? Let the owner stand on Nantucket's Beach and out yell the typhoon. Uncaptured. Owners. Owners. As if the owners were my conscience. Look, ye, the only real owner of anything is its commander. And how my conscience
[00:27:26] Unknown:
is in this ship's heels? Ham may have a better man than I might pass over in thee, but he would resent in a younger man. I or in a happier. But dost thou then so much as dare to question me begun? Nay, sir. I do entreat, and I dare to be forbearing. Shall we not understand each other better, captain Ahab? Sabbath, feed out this pistol.
[00:27:43] Unknown:
There's one god that's lord over the earth and one captain that's lord over the peapod. Put up thy pistol, captain.
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I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck, though it's laugh. But let Ahab beware of Ahab.
[00:27:57] Unknown:
Beware of thyself, old man. Now, our brave Starbuck, but thou still be careful, bravery, that. Ahab. Beware, Ahab. Aye. There is something there. But Moby Dick is close. The white whale. Unfurl at the gallant holes. Shake out the reefs. Storm and Ares. Please sail for Moby Dick. All the the world split. He shall spout black blood, though we chase him three times round the horn. Hey, that's Ahab's fate. Though grinning death with pointing finger, ride the bowsprit as we sail. The way heaps, stab it, and the swarming crew sink downward, gasping through the pounding waves.
Let's help. We sail
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for Moby Dick.
[00:29:04] Unknown:
You have just heard part one of the Columbia workshop radio version of Moby Dick by the great American novelist Herman Melville. The script was adapted by Ernest Kennoy with a special musical score composed by Norman Lockwood and conducted by Frederick Steiner and directed by Howard g Barnes. Appearing in the role of captain Ahab is Neil O'Malley. Ishmael who tells the story is played by Sydney Smith and Starbuck by Charles Irving. Next week the Columbia workshop will present the second and concluding part of Moby Dick as the relentless tyrant of the good ship Pequod drives on in single-minded lust for the black blood of the fabulous white whale. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
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