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CHAPTER 114 . The Gilder . Penetrating further and further into the heart of the Japanese cruising ground , the Pequod was soon all astir in the fishery . Often , in mild , pleasant weather , for twelve , fifteen , eighteen , and twenty hours on the stretch , they were engaged in the boats , steadily pulling , or sailing , or paddling after the whales , or for an interlude of sixty or seventy minutes calmly awaiting their uprising ; though with but small success for their pains . At such times , under an abated sun ; afloat all day upon smooth , slow heaving swells ; seated in his boat , light as a birch canoe ; and so sociably mixing with the soft waves themselves , that like hearth - stone cats they purr against the gunwale ; these are the times of dreamy quietude , when beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the ocean’s skin , one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it ; and would not willingly remember , that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang . These are the times , when in his whale - boat the rover softly feels a certain filial , confident , land - like feeling towards the sea ; that he regards it as so much flowery earth ; and the distant ship revealing only the tops of her masts , seems struggling forward , not through high rolling waves , but through the tall grass of a rolling prairie : as when the western emigrants ’ horses only show their erected ears , while their hidden bodies widely wade through the amazing verdure . The long - drawn virgin vales ; the mild blue hill - sides ; as over these there steals the hush , the hum ; you almost swear that play - wearied children lie sleeping in these solitudes , in some glad May - time , when the flowers of the woods are plucked . And all this mixes with your most mystic mood ; so that fact and fancy , half - way meeting , interpenetrate , and form one seamless whole . Nor did such soothing scenes , however temporary , fail of at least as temporary an effect on Ahab . But if these secret golden keys did seem to open in him his own secret golden treasuries , yet did his breath upon them prove but tarnishing . Oh , grassy glades ! oh , ever vernal endless landscapes in the soul ; in ye , — though long parched by the dead drought of the earthy life , — in ye , men yet may roll , like young horses in new morning clover ; and for some few fleeting moments , feel the cool dew of the life immortal on them . Would to God these blessed calms would last . But the mingled , mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woof : calms crossed by storms , a storm for every calm .
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