stimulus to his or her wonder, as Melville did in the biological thought of
his own time. What might the contemporary studies in bioluminescence,
for example, reveal about that phenomenon that has generated so much
mystic speculation among writers of all time? Or, what might we discover
about life in general in the ongoing studies involving the intelligence of
dolphins and whales? What might an imagination like Melville's make of
the recent discovery of life forms that exist at deep-sea vents in complete
independence of light, using the process of chemosynthesis? The "only
ecosystems on Earth supported by terrestrial instead of solar energy," these
vent communities could be the only survivors on earth should some disas-
ter cause the sunlight to be blocked ( Jannasch 78 ). In a darker vein, what
might a contemporary Melville make of the recent developments in naval
warfare whereby dolphins and whales are trained to serve as living tor-
pedoes? And what might we discover about the history of man through
marine archaeology or, in more specific reference to the literary past in
this tradition, as a result of such recent dives as those on the Scourge (of
Cooper's Ned Myers; or A Life Before the Mast), the Titanic, the Com-
modore (of Crane's "The Open Boat"), or the Somers?

One is tempted to imagine, almost as Melville did in celebrating the
whale's immortality, that man will find his way in the ocean world, whether
through advances in oceanography and marine biology (as in the mining
of the ocean floor or aquaculture) or through renewed achievements in the
ancient mode of knowledge we treasure when a voyaging spirit goes to sea.

-xii-