What happens in Chapter 10 of Moby-Dick?
In this double-chapter sequence, Stubb — the second mate on the Pequod, with a pipe perpetually clenched between his teeth — commands his boat crew during a night chase that culminates in his killing a sperm whale by lantern light. The act is methodical and almost nonchalant for Stubb; he encourages his men with cheerful cursing, then finishes off the whale with a series of lance thrusts, observing it "spout black blood" in its death throes. The carcass is secured to the side of the Pequod to await cutting in the morning. However, the night brings its own terror: sharks swarm around the floating body, frantically tearing at the flesh even as the crew uses whale-hooks from above. Daggoo and Queequeg are lowered on cutting stages to secure the carcass, while the sharks snap at their hands and at each other with equal disregard. Flask notes that the sharks seem to bite their own wounds without showing any pain — a detail Ishmael records with stark, documentary precision. By dawn, the carnage is shared: both men and sharks have feasted on the same body, and the Pequod sits lower in the water, laden with her prize.
Analysis
Melville presents these chapters as a carefully crafted tonal diptych. Stubb's kill is depicted in a way that's almost comical—his cheerful encouragements to the oarsmen and his request for a whale steak cooked rare after the kill embody this levity. This humor underscores Stubb's calmness in the face of death (including his own), marking Melville's first extended depiction of a man who has philosophically accepted the ocean's terms. The pipe recurs throughout: before, during, and after the kill, serving as a steady reminder of indifference.
Then the shark massacre strips away that comedy. Melville changes the tone mid-sequence, transitioning from Stubb's firelit dinner to the dark, wet chaos beneath the hull. The sharks reflect the hunt itself—driven by appetite and devoid of reflection, exhibiting violence without malice. The unsettling image of a shark biting its own severed tail foreshadows the Ouroboros logic that will shape the novel's conclusion. Ishmael's narrative voice tightens here, adopting a style closer to natural-history prose, which intensifies the horror.
From a craft perspective, Melville uses these two chapters to explore three types of killing: intentional (Stubb's lance), opportunistic (the sharks), and systemic (the entire operation of the Pequod). This contrast invites readers to find a moral distinction among them—yet it subtly refrains from offering one. The darkness enveloping both events is significant; night obscures the visual cues that typically allow humans to aestheticize violence.
Key quotes from Chapter 10
“'Pull, pull, my fine hearts-alive; pull, my children; pull, my little ones,' drawingly and soothingly sighed Stubb to his crew.”
Stubb addresses his oarsmen mid-chase, his tone of tender coaxing sitting uneasily against the lethal errand it accompanies.
“That mortal man should feed upon the creature that feeds his lamp, and, like Stubb, eat him by his own light, as you may say; this seems so outlandish a thing that one must needs go a little into the history and philosophy of it.”
Ishmael's aside as Stubb orders his whale-steak by lantern-light, folding the grotesque into a meditation on human appetite and self-illuminating irrationality.
“But in the foamy confusion of their mixed and struggling hosts, the marksmen could not always hit their mark; and this brought about new revelations of the incredible ferocity of the foe.”
Ishmael describes the shark swarm around the carcass, where the creatures' indiscriminate violence — biting wound, hook, and each other — collapses any boundary between predator and prey.