Herman Melville is whale-known for a certain novel—moby you’ve heard of it? But perhaps you are less familiar with the book that rocketed him to national popularity: Typee (1846). The page-turner follows a teenaged Melville scrambling over mountain ranges and braving waterfalls in the tropical Marquesas Islands. When he tumbles into a valley of tattooed cannibals—or maybe not cannibals?, the delightfully bizarre hospitality he receives makes for an ominous extended stay.
Aboard a whaling vessel with a maniacal captain (sound familiar?), Melville plans to jump ship while harbored in the South Pacific—and to do it alone: “I had determined not to communicate my design . . . to any of my shipmates, and least of all to solicit any one to accompany me in my flight.”
But then, Toby.
The thought of bringing along a companion strikes him: “Why should I not have some comrade with me to divide its dangers and alleviate its hardships?” The two young sailors quietly throw their lot in together.
Before fleeing into an uncertain terrain teeming with “prowling cannibals,” Melville snatches minimal supplies—a handful each of hardtack and tobacco; nevertheless, he tears into the thick rainforest with the key to his survival: a friend.
Toby proves a traveling companion of uncommon meddle: “The fearless confidence of Toby was contagious.”
The two young men go up mountains and down precipices, injured and afraid, shivering in pelting rain by night and living on a tablespoon of soggy crackers by day. It’s Toby’s friendship that keeps Melville alive: “Nothing indeed appeared to depress or intimidate this intrepid fellow.”
At one juncture the pair follow a river in hopes of descending a ravine to the coast only to find the way blocked by a plunging waterfall:
“What’s to be done now, Toby?” said I.
“Why,” rejoined he, “as we cannot retreat, I suppose we must keep shoving along.”
“Very true, my dear Toby; but how do you purpose accomplishing that desirable object?”
“By jumping from the top of the fall, if there be no other way,” unhesitatingly replied my companion; “it will be much the quickest way of descent; but as you are not quite as active as I am, we will try some other way.”
“Then it is an impossible thing, is it?” inquired I, gloomily.
“No, shipmate; on the contrary, it is the easiest thing in life: the only awkward point is the sort of usage which our unhappy limbs may receive when we arrive at the bottom, and what sort of travelling trim we shall be in afterwards. But follow me now, and I will show you the only chance we have.”
Aided by slippery tree roots and vines, the two do manage to rappel the falls with only minimal abuse to their “unhappy limbs” in the cataracts below. Toby’s dry wit and wisdom are a salvation to Melville’s soggy and starved frame time and again: “I could not avoid a thousand times congratulating myself upon having such a companion in an enterprise like the present.”
What does a person need to survive? Men shrivel up and die for lack of food, water, and shelter. But they also shrivel up and die for lack of friends.
I don’t just mean spiritually speaking, either. Dr. Anthony Bradley, a constant champion of the importance of male friendship, shared this post recently:
God was not kidding when he said, “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
Melville was lucky. He needed Toby—in more ways than he ever imagined. Don’t let your friendships be an afterthought. Grab hold of your friends; treasure them; prioritize them. You never know what treacherous obstacle looms ahead where you might need them—or they you.
New Subscription Price—Join us, friends!
The Hutch Post began as a pie subscription for locals in Greenville, SC. The idea was, you subscribe, you get a free monthly pie. This is one of the reasons why the pricing was on the more expensive side.
As the Ashbys transition from SC to PA this summer, we are not sure when we will be able to resume our pie baking. Which is bad news for the world. Alas, we will be back!
Accordingly, we are going to suspend the pie benefits of The Hutch Post—and lower our subscription cost! The hope is that some of you who love what we are doing but have never lived close enough to benefit from our baking will be able to join us for the journey.
Our new subscription price: $5 / month (literally the cheapest rate Substack will allow)
Here’s what’s never going to happen: paywalls. We are going to continue to write and distribute words on books and baking for free no matter what. However, if you love what we do, this gives you a chance to befriend us with a few tablespoons of soggy hardtack a month. :)