Herman Melville’s writings have granted him worldwide renown since his death, at the end of the 19th century, but he was read only fitfully by the American public during his lifetime, and his greatest literary achievements were received with a mixture of puzzlement and disregard.
Ishmael further clarifies that he was looking to go to sea not as the commander of a vessel, nor as a tourist, but as a “simple sailor,” one who is paid for his time on the boat, and who can enjoy the “fresh air” and “exercise” a life at sea affords.
“Call me Ishmael.”
I'm preparing to go on a whaling voyage for several reasons to make money, to entertain myself, and to leave behind what I consider the stifling confines of city life, which makes me bored.
Ishmael closes the chapter by wondering why, exactly, he chose to go on a whaling vessel at this particular moment in his life, and how he ended up finding the “white whale” so central to the ensuing narrative.
I'm not sure how the Fates acted in the way they did, but I feel that his presence on this boat, with this captain and crew, was somehow preordained, even though it seemed, at the time, that I was determining the course of my life.