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Let me make a clean breast of it here, and frankly admit that I kept but sorry guard. With the problem of the universe revolving in me, how could I—being left completely to myself at such a thought-engendering altitude—how could I but lightly hold my obligations to observe all whale-ships' standing orders, "Keep your weather eye open, and sing out every time." Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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Ishmael has already told us that he values his watch on the mast-head mostly because it’s conducive to contemplation. He’s also chided Captain Scoresby for being too wrapped up in work to drink on the watch. So…it’s not really news when Ishmael tells us that he’s not the most useful guy to have up there.

Indeed, this isn’t the first time Ishmael has shown to be a thinker. He spends quite a while on figuring out the painting in the Spouter-Inn, and coming to a conclusion with its own meaning to Ishmael and us.

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Captain Sleet, that he was not so much immersed in those profound magnetic meditations, as to fail being attracted occasionally towards that well replenished little case-bottle, so nicely tucked in on one side of his crow's nest, within easy reach of his hand. Though, upon the whole, I greatly admire and even love the brave, the honest, and learned Captain; yet I take it very ill of him that he should so utterly ignore that case-bottle, seeing what a faithful friend and comforter it must have been, while with mittened fingers and hooded head he was studying the mathematics aloft there in that bird's nest within three or four perches of the pole. Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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I like Ishmael more for liking Sleet less for not drinking on the job. No one loves a robot (except other robots).

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6 years

Yes, it’s a bit cryptic but Ishmael is saying how in Sleet’s writings he writes a lot about scientific things but totally ignores his liquor bottle, which must have been a faithful companion esp in the cold northern seas.

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572

8 years

Ishmael is saying Sleet DID drink- he’s criticizing him for not writing about drinking.

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CROW'S-NESTS Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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A crow’s nest is a structure built onto the ships mast where the sailor on lookout hangs out.

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are never troubled with the thought of what you shall have for dinner—for all your meals for three years and more are snugly stowed in casks, and your bill of fare is immutable Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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Now we have Soylent

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8 years

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Obed Macy, the sole historian of Nantucket Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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Obed Macy wrote The History of Nanytucket, which was published in 1835.

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Now, as the business of standing mast-heads, ashore or afloat, is a very ancient and interesting one, let us in some measure expatiate here. Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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Standing the mast-head becomes a metaphor for seeking out truths that most men cannot see. Just as one scans the sea for the telltale spouts of whales, the ancient Egyptians built high perches from which to observe the stars and investigate the secrets of the universe; Saint Stylites ascended his perch to escape the world and look within himself and find god; Washington, Napolean and Nelson sought lookouts where they could get away from their counsels and think things over alone.

There is something about being alone and gazing that lends itself to considering large questions. Even if you’re alone on a couch smoking a spliff and watching wallpaper peel, you too are standing a mast-head.

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6 years

Also you mispelled Napoleon

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The reference to Washington is not a reference to Washington himself but to a monument in Baltimore. It is a tall pillar (probably the tallest structure in the area for some time) with a a statue of Washington at its top. Designed by Robert Mills and completed in 1829 (Moby Dick was published in 1851). The statue was carved by Enrico Causici.

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In most American whalemen the mast-heads are manned almost simultaneously with the vessel's leaving her port; even though she may have fifteen thousand miles, and more, to sail ere reaching her proper cruising ground. Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 35: The Mast-Head)

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Even when there is no chance of seeing a whale, the ship’s mastheads are manned. On board the Pequod, as in the wider world, order is kept because people adhere to routines and customs, even when they seem pointless (the point is to maintain order).

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Over his ivory-inlaid table, Ahab presided like a mute, maned sea-lion on the white coral beach, surrounded by his warlike but still deferential cubs. In his own proper turn, each officer waited to be served. They were as little children before Ahab; and yet, in Ahab, there seemed not to lurk the smallest social arrogance. With one mind, their intent eyes all fastened upon the old man's knife, as he carved the chief dish before him. I do not suppose that for the world they would have profaned that moment with the slightest observation, even upon so neutral a topic as the weather. No! And when reaching out his knife and fork, between which the slice of beef was locked, Ahab thereby motioned Starbuck's plate towards him, the mate received his meat as though receiving alms; and cut it tenderly; and a little started if, perchance, the knife grazed against the plate; and chewed it noiselessly; and swallowed it, not without circumspection. For, like the Coronation banquet at Frankfort, where the German Emperor profoundly dines with the seven Imperial Electors, so these cabin meals were somehow solemn meals, eaten in awful silence; and yet at table old Ahab forbade not conversation; only he himself was dumb. What a relief it was to choking Stubb, when a rat made a sudden racket in the hold below. And poor little Flask, he was the youngest son, and little boy of this weary family party. His were the shinbones of the saline beef; his would have been the drumsticks. For Flask to have presumed to help himself, this must have seemed to him tantamount to larceny in the first degree. Had he helped himself at that table, doubtless, never more would he have been able to hold his head up in this honest world; nevertheless, strange to say, Ahab never forbade him. And had Flask helped himself, the chances were Ahab had never so much as noticed it. Least of all, did Flask presume to help himself to butter. Whether he thought the owners of the ship denied it to him, on account of its clotting his clear, sunny complexion; or whether he deemed that, on so long a voyage in such marketless waters, butter was at a premium, and therefore was not for him, a subaltern; however it was, Flask, alas! was a butterless man! Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 34: The Cabin-Table)

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Ahab is a shit-awful host. He sits and eats in silence, making everything mad awkward. This happens every day. No wonder Flask wants to eat with the rest of the crew.

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Who has but once dined his friends, has tasted what it is to be Caesar. Herman Melville – Moby-Dick (Chap. 34: The Cabin-Table)

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Last time I picked up the check I felt like Caesar. For like thirty seconds. And then I checked my account balance in a panic. And then I made everyone I’d treated to dinner buy me drinks all night.