{"id":"01KFNR8712PTE1ASP85TPSV91A","cid":"bafkreidaepubfiardzkx235hajqvrq6dlwivsdz66c6atfm4ucloghex5u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5075,"extracted_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:01.923Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KFNR0Z394A878Y5AQ63MQEM2","start_line":5016,"text":"sun-down; nor for persisting in fighting a fish that too much persisted\r\nin fighting him. For, thought Starbuck, I am here in this critical\r\nocean to kill whales for my living, and not to be killed by them for\r\ntheirs; and that hundreds of men had been so killed Starbuck well knew.\r\nWhat doom was his own father’s? Where, in the bottomless deeps, could\r\nhe find the torn limbs of his brother?\r\n\r\nWith memories like these in him, and, moreover, given to a certain\r\nsuperstitiousness, as has been said; the courage of this Starbuck which\r\ncould, nevertheless, still flourish, must indeed have been extreme. But\r\nit was not in reasonable nature that a man so organized, and with such\r\nterrible experiences and remembrances as he had; it was not in nature\r\nthat these things should fail in latently engendering an element in\r\nhim, which, under suitable circumstances, would break out from its\r\nconfinement, and burn all his courage up. And brave as he might be, it\r\nwas that sort of bravery chiefly, visible in some intrepid men, which,\r\nwhile generally abiding firm in the conflict with seas, or winds, or\r\nwhales, or any of the ordinary irrational horrors of the world, yet\r\ncannot withstand those more terrific, because more spiritual terrors,\r\nwhich sometimes menace you from the concentrating brow of an enraged\r\nand mighty man.\r\n\r\nBut were the coming narrative to reveal in any instance, the complete\r\nabasement of poor Starbuck’s fortitude, scarce might I have the heart\r\nto write it; for it is a thing most sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose\r\nthe fall of valour in the soul. Men may seem detestable as joint\r\nstock-companies and nations; knaves, fools, and murderers there may be;\r\nmen may have mean and meagre faces; but man, in the ideal, is so noble\r\nand so sparkling, such a grand and glowing creature, that over any\r\nignominious blemish in him all his fellows should run to throw their\r\ncostliest robes. That immaculate manliness we feel within ourselves, so\r\nfar within us, that it remains intact though all the outer character\r\nseem gone; bleeds with keenest anguish at the undraped spectacle of a\r\nvalor-ruined man. Nor can piety itself, at such a shameful sight,\r\ncompletely stifle her upbraidings against the permitting stars. But\r\nthis august dignity I treat of, is not the dignity of kings and robes,\r\nbut that abounding dignity which has no robed investiture. Thou shalt\r\nsee it shining in the arm that wields a pick or drives a spike; that\r\ndemocratic dignity which, on all hands, radiates without end from God;\r\nHimself! The great God absolute! The centre and circumference of all\r\ndemocracy! His omnipresence, our divine equality!\r\n\r\nIf, then, to meanest mariners, and renegades and castaways, I shall\r\nhereafter ascribe high qualities, though dark; weave round them tragic\r\ngraces; if even the most mournful, perchance the most abased, among\r\nthem all, shall at times lift himself to the exalted mounts; if I shall\r\ntouch that workman’s arm with some ethereal light; if I shall spread a\r\nrainbow over his disastrous set of sun; then against all mortal critics\r\nbear me out in it, thou just Spirit of Equality, which hast spread one\r\nroyal mantle of humanity over all my kind! Bear me out in it, thou\r\ngreat democratic God! who didst not refuse to the swart convict,\r\nBunyan, the pale, poetic pearl; Thou who didst clothe with doubly\r\nhammered leaves of finest gold, the stumped and paupered arm of old\r\nCervantes; Thou who didst pick up Andrew Jackson from the pebbles; who\r\ndidst hurl him upon a war-horse; who didst thunder him higher than a\r\nthrone! Thou who, in all Thy mighty, earthly marchings, ever cullest\r\nThy selectest champions from the kingly commons; bear me out in it, O\r\nGod!\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KFNR84D74WTRW5EZ09NBH2JH","peer_label":"26","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KFNR84D74WTRW5EZ09NBH2JH","peer_label":"26","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR81RMVAX2BBMMBW51V97D","peer_label":"Moby Dick; Or, The Whale","peer_type":"novel","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR0H0Q791Y1SMZWEQ09FGV","peer_label":"Moby Dick","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KFNR8730CG5FT3KCM173M6PK","peer_label":"Chunk 0","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:02.504Z","ts":"2026-01-23T15:41:18.890Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}