“In my head,” said Moby Dick, “and I shouldn’t think yours were. Why they put some such thing on all the ships—women, dolphins, what not. I’ve seen dozens of ’em. I know about nymphs. I used to read about ’em in the old classical dictionary in our school. Every school of whales of any pretension has one. If she was a sea goddess, do you suppose she’d stand there in all weathers? Besides, there are no nymphs.”
“Then you won’t sink the ship?” said the merman.
“Certainly not; she’s only a merchant ship. If she was a whaler, I would with pleasure. I’ve done it before now, but that was in self-defence. I’m not going to drown a lot of folks because you have lost your wits. Come, come, my young friend, go home to your family. I dare say your mother don’t know you’re out. You are too tired to swim after that ship, and you are hurt besides. Let me take you home on my back; I’d just as soon swim your way as any other.”
The merman was a little affected by the whale’s tone of kindness, but he was too much possessed with his wooden love to accept the offer.
“No! no!” he cried, “I must follow her to the ends of the earth. Something tells me she will yet be mine.”
“And suppose she should be?” said Moby Dick. “Why, she’s only a stick cut and painted. What would the ladies of your family think if you brought home a wooden wife?”
“You are blind,” said the merman, swimming away.
“You are cracked!” the whale shouted after him, but the merman was already out of hearing.
“Dear! dear!” said Moby Dick. “What a pity! If I can find any of the mermen, I’ll tell them about him. He ought not to be left to himself;” and he shook his huge head solemnly and swam away in an opposite direction.
