The sea was in a tempestuous state of disarray, the waves crashing upon the ship with almost board-splintering force. The sky was dark, plastered with clouds, and seemed to display a greenish tint. The ship rocked about uncontrollably. The sea would divide such that it seemed the very jaws of Hell were opening up, ready to suck us down forever into the abyss of the damned.

“HOLD FAST, MEN!” Ahab shouted above the wind. He, Queequeg, and two others were in the boat, connected by an idle thread to the Pequod. “WAIT FOR HIM!”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and in that instant, we saw it.

It rose out of the sea in a grandiose manner, its calm demeanor belying its true nature. The cetacean, white with the pallor of putrefaction, was pockmarked and pitted with various grotesque imperfections, trailing bloody viscera as it rose out of the hellish seas and stared at us with a glazed-over eye on its unthinking, unfeeling skull.

“THAR SHE BLOWS!” Ahab triumphantly shouted, pointing. “IT’S MORBID DICK!”