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It was the late evening, of course. The orange sun had retreated hours ago. Everyone on land would be in bed by now. So why was the Pequod crew still waiting to be dismissed? It was a nighttime roll call to make sure no one had fallen overboard during the day, and yet the captain still wasn't present.
“Where’s the captain? She should be here by now.” Ishmael asked Starbuck, who was on her left, not falling out of line even for a second.
“I’m not sure, but we’ve been waiting out here for hours, I'll just to the call.” Starbuck said, leaving the line to get the list. He began to call names, the name’s owner responding when called.
“Alright, no casualties today, you can all go now.” Starbuck finished, placing the list into its folder; he'd put that in Ahab’s office soon enough. Of course, not everyone left, only Ahab’s most loyal of sailors stayed behind; Ishmael, Queequeg, Stubb and Pip.
“Where’s Captain? Pip can't find her anywhere!” Of course it was Pip, fearing for the safety of their captain.
“She wouldn’t have gone far, kid. How about we get you-” Stubb started but was immediately cut off by another whine from the child.
“No! We need to find captain!” Pip continued. He was a determined young lad.
Starbuck ran his hand down his face with a deep sigh. “She’ll be around here, but if you insist, we’ll look, but don’t go disturbing the other crew mates, if they knew where she was, they’d have gone and got her themselves.”
“Yeah. And take that harpoon to the jaw.” Ishmael challenged, reminiscing on the time Starbuck did that and got Ahab’s harpoon to the face.
“Very amusing, Ishmael.” Queequeg said.
“Okay, Ishmael and Queequeg, you go and check the accommodation. Pip and Stubb, you check all over the deck, I’ll go check her office.”
“Going alone, are we?” Queequeg joked, a deterrence to her usual self. Of course, they always had to make fun of Starbuck for his liking to Ahab, how could they not.
“And?” Starbuck said, almost offended.
“Nothing.” Ishmael yelped quickly.
The group split off.
Ishmael and Queequeg entered the accommodation hall, Ishmael first, Queequeg following close behind.
“She’s been more tired recently, like she saw something.” Ishmael voiced. She wasn’t wrong, Ahab had gotten rum-drunk a few days before and had grabbed a flare gun then randomly jumped overboard just as the whale was approaching. They were able to avoid it, it was dark, so it didn’t see them. They saw the flare gun fire and they fished Ahab out of the Lake. She was different, like she had seen something in the lake that she wasn’t meant to see, that no one was meant to see.
They walked a little further in silence.
“You remember the other night?” Ishmael asked. “With the flare gun?”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t hesitate,” Ishmael continued. “Didn’t even think. Just—overboard. Like she saw something and decided she had to get closer.”
“She did see something.”
Ishmael glanced at her. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“…Right. Of course you do.” Queequeg didn’t rise to it.
“That’s Ahab for you. But yes, I’ve noticed it too.”
“You think anyone else has noticed it?”
“I doubt it. We’ll get Pip to ask; she won’t throw him overboard for questioning her mental state.”
“True.”
They made it to her room, it was incredibly hard to miss, it literally had her name on it. Ishmael knocked first.
“Captain? Are you in there?” She said softly.
“Captain?” she said again.
Queequeg banged on it harder.
“Ahab? Are you there?”
There was no response, of course there wasn’t.
“Maybe she’s not here, Let's just go help Starbuck-”
The door opened as Queequeg knocked again. It was a mess in there. But no Ahab, of course.
“Well, we tried, let’s just get back upstairs.” Ishmael suggested, her eyes not moving from Ahab’s room. There were drawings all over the walls, big papers with the whale scrawled along them.
“A look wouldn't hurt.”
They both entered the small space, there was of course a spare leg, because of course Ahab was a master at breaking her leg, clothes on the floor. She has the room to herself and can’t keep it clean. The most interesting was one specific picture of the whale, it had a large portion circled on its underside.
“What is that on its underside?” Ishmael asked, hoping Queequeg would know.
“....Pallid dick…...” Queequeg answered, probably without much thought. Ishmael just looked up at her with not a single expression.
“You think that’s what she saw?” Ishmael queried, trying to keep her expression neutral.
“Yes.”
With that, they left the room, hoping they’d never have to go back in there due to the mess and overall stench of salt and body odour.
“Maybe she’s on the deck, probably fell in the barrel of rum again.”
“It wouldn't surprise me.”
Up on the top deck, Stubb and Pip were still searching. Well—searching might’ve been generous.
“Captain!” Pip called, halfway bent over a rum barrel. “Are you in there?”
“Kid,” Stubb drawled from the railing, not even turning around, “if the captain’s managed to fit herself into a rum barrel, I’m resigning on the spot.”
Pip pulled himself back out, frowning. “She could.”
“…You know what,” Stubb said after a beat, “I’m not even going to argue that.”
Pip moved on to the next barrel, anyway, knocking on it as if it might answer back. Stubb watched him for a moment, something softer creeping into his expression.
“You always this thorough,” he added, “or just when you think someone’s drowned?” Pip ignored the joke.
“Captain!” he called again, louder this time, voice echoing across the deck. No answer. Just the sea. Stubb straightened a little, glancing over the side again. The dark water stretched endlessly below, calm in that unsettling way it had at night.
“…She’s not down there,” he muttered, more to himself than Pip.
Pip tugged at his sleeve. “You checked properly?”
“I did.”
“Did you really check?” Pip pressed.
Stubb huffed. “What d’you want me to do, dive in and have a look?” Pip looked like he was about to say yes.
“…Don’t answer that,” Stubb added quickly. They kept moving. Pip peeked behind crates, under coils of rope, even lifting up a loose bit of tarp as if Ahab might be hiding there out of spite.
“Captain, this isn’t funny!” he shouted.
Stubb winced slightly. “Alright, steady on, you’ll wake the whole bloody ship.”
“Good!” Pip snapped. “Maybe they’ll help!” That… took Stubb off guard. Pip turned away, shoulders tight, fists clenched at his sides.
“…Hey,” Stubb said, gentler now. “C’mere.”
Pip didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.
“What if she fell overboard?” he asked, voice small again. “What if we didn’t hear her?”
There it was. Stubb crouched down in front of him, resting his pipe between his teeth for a moment before taking it out completely.
“Listen to me,” he said, quieter than Pip had ever heard him. “That woman’s survived worse than a bit of water. If the sea tried to take her, it’d spit her back out from sheer annoyance.”
Pip let out a weak, wet laugh.
“…Really?”
“Really,” Stubb nodded. “And if she did fall in, she’d probably come back up swinging.” That earned him a slightly more genuine smile.
“…She would.”
“Exactly.” Pip sniffed, wiping at his face with his sleeve, though it didn’t do much good. Stubb sighed, then opened his arms.
“Well? You gonna stand there leaking, or—?” Pip didn’t need telling twice. He threw himself into the hug, clutching onto Stubb’s shirt like it was the only solid thing left. Stubb froze for half a second—then relaxed, one hand coming up to pat the back of Pip’s head.
“There we go,” he murmured. “All under control.” Pip pressed his face into his chest, still sniffling.
“…You smell like tobacco.”
“Charming, thank you.”
“…Like the Captain.” Stubb blinked.
“…Right,” he said slowly.
That did it. Pip started crying properly again. Why are we using whale bait and flare guns when we have a kid with the noise of a speaker to get it to come?
“Oh, come on,” Stubb groaned softly, though he didn’t let go. “I can’t even smell like myself without upsetting you now?” Pip just clung tighter. Stubb glanced up at the sky, as if asking it for patience.
“…I’m not built for this,” he muttered. Still, his hand stayed steady on Pip’s back, gently rubbing slow circles.
“Alright,” he said after a moment. “Tell you what. Once we find her, I’ll get her to swear off the drink.”
Pip sniffed. “…She won’t.”
“…No,” Stubb admitted. “She absolutely won’t.”
“…But you can try.”
“Yeah,” Stubb said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I can try.”
Starbuck was a different story, the musket in his palm was heavy. He didn’t know why he was holding it, it had been a start to his routine when he knew Ahab’s obsession was getting particularly dangerous, they had lost 14 crewmates that day, but she still insisted on the chase. As the captain’s first mate, he’d been to her office several times. Of course he had. They had meetings almost every day, not today though, he hadn't seen her after lunch, but he knew she was going to her office. He knocked once.
“Captain… You in there?”
What was he expecting? For her to answer like nothing was wrong? For her to brush him off, wave him away, send him back to the deck with another order that edged them closer to disaster? There was no response. Her music player was whirring away in the background, just some old tune about a war Starbuck couldn't place. He knocked again, a little louder.
“Ahab?”
No one had shouted to say she was found, and his worry was starting to grow. What if she had been working all day and had left to get some air and fallen overboard? Was he even sure he'd seen her this morning? He had to have, since he’d said good morning to her. Did he accidentally say that to a crewmate? Did they leave her on the dock when they went back for supplies that afternoon? So many thoughts were rushing through his mind.
“Starbuck?”
He snapped out of it when he heard a female voice, it was Ishmael and Queequeg.
“Hello ladies.” He said, trying to make it seem like he’d not just been standing outside of the door this whole time with the potential to blow his captain’s brains up the wall.
“Is she in there?”
“I'm not sure. Uhhhh…. The door’s locked.” What a perfect excuse from Starbuck. Queequeg walked over and opened the door.
“I tried that.” No, he didn’t.
With that Stubb and a sniffling Pip entered. Stubb was holding Pip’s hand, the other on his pipe, smoke blowing. Pip had his other hand wiping his tear.
“She’s not up there.” Stubb said,
“She’s gone!” Pip cried.
Ishmael peered into the office, the door now slightly ajar.
“No, she’s not.”
There was Ahab, head resting on the paper covered desk, her eyes actually closed as she slept, soft breathing emanating from the space. Starbuck rested the musket against the wall and walked into the office, the other four following behind.
“There you are, Pip. She’s there, she didn’t fall overboard, let’s get you to bed now.” He guided the boy away, Pip casting one last teary glance over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor.
“I mean, she’s Ahab, she doesn't fall overboard.” Queequeg said, mainly towards Ishmael
“Except when she doesn’t, and we need to fish her out of the water like salmon.” the smaller joked back with a small laugh, but also the memory of hauling the captain up the side of the ship, the rope slipping in her hands.
“Okay, she didn’t fall though, now did she.” Starbuck corrected, checking on the captain.
The room was quiet for a while after, except for the sound of Ahab’s loud, and wet snores.
“So, what now?”
“Well… You two can head off to bed.”
“And you?”
“I'm gonna make sure she's alright before going myself.”
“Alright, goodnight, Starbuck.” Queequeg finished, walking out.
“Yeah, sleep well.” Ishmael followed, leaving with the bigger of the two.
“You both too.” that left Starbuck and the sleeping Ahab alone. Starbuck sat opposite her, his usual spot while in her office. He placed a hand in her hair.
The room fell quiet. Only the creak of the ship. The distant sea. And Ahab’s snoring. Starbuck sat opposite her, in his usual chair. For a long moment, he simply watched her—this force of a woman, reduced, for once, to something almost… fragile. He reached out, hesitated, then gently brushed a hand through her hair. She stirred. Not fully awake—just enough to shift, brow furrowing.
“…Starbuck?” she mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
“I’m here, Captain,” he said softly. Her eye cracked open, unfocused.
“…Did we lose anyone?”
“No,” he answered. “All present.”
A faint, crooked smile tugged at her lips. “Good… good…” Her head dipped again—but not onto the desk this time. Instead, it leaned slightly towards him, as if pulled by instinct. Starbuck stiffened… then slowly relaxed.
“You should rest properly,” he murmured. “Not like this.” No response. She was already slipping back under. He glanced at the papers scattered across the desk. The whale stared back at him in dozens of sketches—obsessive, suffocating. His hand stilled in her hair.
“…Why do you have to drag us all into this?” he whispered. Ahab didn’t answer. But in her sleep, her fingers twitched—tightening briefly against the paper, as though grasping for something just out of reach beneath dark water. Starbuck stayed there a while longer. Just to make sure she kept breathing.