37. I present the dramatics of Captain Ahab, who questions his sanity, believing his madness maddened, and aims to fulfill his prophecy with the White Whale.
38. Drama turns to Starbuck, who agonizes over the true mission of the Pequod, but resolves his bond to Ahab and promises to follow him to his impious end.
39. Stubb seizes the narrative, and sings himself a ditty, displaying his belief in the predestination of the voyage, however ignorant of the outcome.
40. The nature of the crew is shown in Shakespearean light, singing and dancing as though family, until Mother Nature voices her displeasure.
41. The legend of Moby-Dick is described, with his intelligent malignity towards humans, and the epic struggle with one Captain Ahab.
42. I describe my fear of the whiteness of the whale, which exhibits a foreboding nature, and only multiples the terror at sea.
43. An observant sailor hears noises from the ship’s hold, though his companion attributes it to the former’s poor nutrition.
44. Ahab predicts the route of Moby-Dick through his chart, letting loose the mad shrieks of his soul plotting its escape from his damned psyche.
45. I detract the ignorance of the reader who doubts the nature of my tale, and provide true examples of the whaling industry to move away from an intolerable allegory.
46. I reason the plans of Captain Ahab, who must maintain the loyalty of his crew and attack every whale in sight, contrary of its hue.
47. Queequeg and I reunite to weave together a sword-mat, to which I refer as the Loom of Time, before Tashtego’s sighting of a whale removes me from reverie.
48. Fedallah and Ahab’s secret crew emerges from hold, though we do not capture the whale and are nearly drowned.
49. I am overcome with laughter, though I believe myself as a man already dead; I charge Queequeg to me by lawyer, executor, and legatee to my will.
50. I surprise over Ahab’s usage of a personal crew, despite handicap, and the bizarreness of the crew itself, led by the demoniacal Fedallah.
51. We follow the spirit-spout to our conceivable doom, observed closely by Ahab in his cabin, as we men become practical fatalists in our voyage.
52. We pass alongside the Albatross, adrift at sea for four years, and Ahab inquires the captain of the White Whale only to be drowned out by a gale.
53. The definition of a gam is provided, where crews exchange news and companionship, though Ahab refuses gams with boats not pertinent to his quest.
54. I relate a story once told in Lima, where a particularly mutinous crew is relieved by the swallowing of the first-mate by Moby-Dick, though my story is take distrustfully.
55. I relate my reluctance to contemporary images of whale, since none have the whole beast alive, and that the whale must remain unpainted to the last.
56. I discover more acceptable depictions of whales, mainly by that of the French, which is curiously since France has never been considered a nation of whalers.
57. I then note the international intrigue of whales, from carvings, to paintings, to the night sky that guides the sailors at sea.
58. A juxtaposition of land and sea is provided, contrasting the visibility and safety of land from the dangers of the unknown sea, much like the human soul.
59. The sight of a giant squid is confused for the White Whale, and though the presence of squid means that of the whale, the crew finds ominous meaning.
60. I describe the whale-line and its dangers to the crew, rendering me to contemplate the constant whale-line around our crewmen’s necks.
61. We kill our first whale, thanks to the efforts of Stubb and Tashtego, as the crew stands and views the corpse we have made.
62. I argue against the current system of harpooning, where the harpooner is subjected to assist in rowing before focusing a perfect shot in a weary condition.
63. I continue my negative digression into the uselessness of the double-harpoon line, and the risks is promotes to the safety of the crewmen.
64. Stubb insists on dining on a steak of his whale, and when displeased by its overcooked state, plays with the cook in preaching to the hungry sharks.
65. I discuss the rarity of consuming the meat of the whale, which seems iniquitous since one must eat beside the lamp fueling by the whale’s oil.
66. We are forced to rid ourselves of the sharks meaning to take our prize, though Queequeg’s hand nearly meets its on the teeth of a dead creature.
67. We cut into the whale, removing the blubber from the carcass in strips as if peeling the rind away from an orange.
68. I promote the idea of the whale’s blubber acting as its skin, becoming thick as to protect it from harsh environments, despite the ridicule I have received for this opinion.
69. We haul the stripped carcass overboard, which carries the ghost of the whale and continues to terror the seas in its façade as a rocky shoal.
70. The whale is beheaded before release, and Ahab converses with the head, asking of its horrors seen.
71. We encounter the Jeroboam and its prophet Gabriel, who commands us to Think and warns of the horrors of chasing Moby-Dick.
72. I assist Queequeg with the cutting, tied to him with Monkey-Rope in a wedding, as the ginger offered to him is tossed in favor of strong spirits.
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