I wish Melville had brought the passage of time more to the foreground. The transition from rapid action to being adrift is overly subtle.
Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and mist, grew darker with the shadows of night; no sign of the ship could be seen. The rising sea forbade all attempts to bale out the boat. The oars were useless as propellers, performing now the office of life-preservers. So, cutting the lashing of the waterproof match keg, after many failures Starbuck contrived to ignite the lamp in the lantern; then stretching it on a waif pole, handed it to Queequeg as the standard-bearer of this forlorn hope.
All Excerpts From
Melville, Herman. "Moby-Dick." Harlequin, 2009. iBooks.
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