Benito Cereno: Short Story

By Herman Melville

When approached at sea by the slaver San Dominick, Captain Amasa Delano of the Bachelor’s Delight is struck by the Spanish ship’s dilapidated condition, her peculiar captain—Benito Cereno—and the strange atmosphere among the white crew and black slaves. While Delano accepts Cereno’s explanation of trying times aboard the Dominick, including the death of the slave master, Delano’s doubt persists, and the answers to his questions come in startling fashion.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Sep 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781443435062

Herman Melville

Herman Melville (1819-1891) was an American novelist, short story writer, essayist, and poet who received wide acclaim for his earliest novels, such as Typee and Redburn, but fell into relative obscurity by the end of his life. Today, Melville is hailed as one of the definitive masters of world literature for novels including Moby Dick and Billy Budd, as well as for enduringly popular short stories such as Bartleby, the Scrivener and The Bell-Tower.

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BENITO CERENO

Herman Melville

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CONTENTS

Benito Cereno

About the Author

About the Series

Copyright

About the Publisher

Benito Cereno

In the year 1799, Captain Amasa Delano, of Duxbury, in Massachusetts, commanding a large sealer and general trader, lay at anchor with a valuable cargo, in the harbor of St. Maria—a small, desert, uninhabited island toward the southern extremity of the long coast of Chile. There he had touched for water.

On the second day, not long after dawn, while lying in his berth, his mate came below, informing him that a strange sail was coming into the bay. Ships were then not so plenty in those waters as now. He rose, dressed, and went on deck.

The morning was one peculiar to that coast. Everything was mute and calm; everything gray. The sea, though undulated into long roods of swells, seemed fixed, and was sleeked at the surface like waved lead that has cooled and set in the smelter’s mould. The sky seemed a gray surtout. Flights of troubled gray fowl, kith and kin with flights of troubled gray vapors among which they were mixed, skimmed low and fitfully over the waters, as swallows over meadows before storms. Shadows present, foreshadowing deeper shadows to come.

To Captain Delano’s surprise, the stranger, viewed through the glass, showed no colors; though to do so upon entering a haven, however uninhabited in its shores, where but a single other ship might be lying, was the custom among peaceful seamen of all nations. Considering the lawlessness and loneliness of the spot, and the sort of stories, at that day, associated with those seas, Captain Delano’s surprise might have deepened into some uneasiness had he not been a person of a singularly undistrustful good nature, not liable, except on extraordinary and repeated incentives, and hardly then, to indulge in personal alarms, any way involving the imputation of malign evil in man. Whether, in view of what humanity is capable, such a trait implies, along with a benevolent heart, more than ordinary quickness and accuracy of intellectual perception, may be left to the wise to determine.

But whatever misgivings might have obtruded on first seeing the stranger, would almost, in any seaman’s mind, have been dissipated by observing that, the ship, in navigating into the harbor, was drawing too near the land; a sunken reef making out off her bow. This seemed to prove her a stranger, indeed, not only to the sealer, but the island; consequently, she could be no wonted freebooter on that ocean. With no small interest, Captain Delano continued to watch her—a proceeding not much facilitated by the vapors partly mantling the hull, through which the far matin light from her cabin streamed equivocally enough; much like the sun—by this time hemisphered on the rim of the horizon, and, apparently, in company with the strange ship entering the harbor—which, wimpled by the same low, creeping clouds, showed not unlike a Lima intriguante’s one sinister eye peering across the Plaza from the Indian loophole of her dusk saya-y-manta.

It might have been but a deception of the vapors, but, the longer the stranger was watched the more singular appeared her manoeuvres. Ere long it seemed hard to decide whether she meant to come in or no—what she wanted, or what she was about. The wind, which had breezed up a little during the night, was now extremely light and baffling, which the more increased the apparent uncertainty of her movements.

Surmising, at last, that it might be a ship in distress, Captain Delano ordered his whaleboat to be dropped, and, much to the wary opposition of his mate, prepared to board her, and, at the least, pilot her in. On the night previous, a fishing party of the seamen had gone a long distance to some detached rocks out of sight from the sealer, and, an hour or two before daybreak, had returned, having met with no small success. Presuming that the stranger might have been long off soundings, the good captain put several baskets of the fish, for presents, into his boat, and so pulled away. From her continuing too near the sunken reef, deeming her in danger, calling to his men, he made all haste to apprise those on board of their situation. But, sometime ere the boat came up, the wind, light though it was, having shifted, had headed the vessel off, as well as partly broken the vapors from about her.

Upon gaining a less remote view, the ship, when made signally visible on the verge of the leaden-hued swells, with the shreds of fog here and there raggedly furring her, appeared like a white-washed monastery after a thunderstorm, seen perched upon some dun cliff among the Pyrenees. But it was no purely fanciful resemblance which now, for a moment, almost led Captain Delano to think that nothing less than a shipload of monks was before him. Peering over the bulwarks were what really seemed, in the hazy distance, throngs of dark cowls; while, fitfully revealed through the open port holes, other dark moving figures were dimly descried, as of Black Friars pacing the cloisters.

Upon a still nigher approach, this appearance was modified, and the true character of the vessel was plain—a Spanish merchantman of the first class, carrying negro slaves, amongst other valuable freight, from one colonial port to another. A very large, and, in its time, a very fine vessel, such as in those days were at intervals encountered along that main; sometimes superseded Acapulco treasure ships, or retired frigates of the Spanish king’s navy, which, like superannuated Italian palaces, still, under a decline of masters, preserved signs of former state.

As the whaleboat drew more and more nigh, the cause of the peculiar pipe-clayed aspect of the stranger was seen in the slovenly neglect pervading her. The spars, ropes, and great part of the bulwarks, looked woolly, from long unacquaintance with the scraper, tar, and the brush. Her keel seemed laid, her ribs put together, and she launched, from Ezekiel’s Valley of Dry Bones.

In the present business in which she was engaged, the ship’s general model and rig appeared to have undergone no material change from their original warlike and Froissart pattern. However, no guns were seen.

The tops were large, and were railed about with what had once been octagonal network, all now in sad disrepair. These tops hung overhead like three ruinous aviaries, in one of which was seen, perched, on a ratlin, a white noddy, a strange fowl, so called from its lethargic, somnambulistic character, being frequently caught by hand at sea. Battered and mouldy, the castellated forecastle seemed some ancient turret, long ago taken by assault, and then left to decay. Toward the stern, two high-raised quarter galleries—the balustrades here and there covered with dry, tindery sea moss—opening out from the unoccupied state cabin, whose dead-lights, for all the mild weather, were hermetically closed and calked—these tenantless balconies hung over the sea as if it were the grand Venetian canal. But the principal relic of faded grandeur was the ample oval of the shield-like stern-piece, intricately carved with the arms of Castile and Leon, medallioned about by groups of mythological or symbolical devices; uppermost and central of which was a dark satyr in a mask, holding his foot on the prostrate neck of a writhing figure, likewise masked.

Whether the ship had a figurehead, or only a plain beak, was not quite certain, owing to canvas wrapped about that part, either to protect it while undergoing a refurbishing, or else decently to hide its decay. Rudely painted or chalked, as in a sailor freak, along the forward side of a sort of pedestal below the canvas, was the sentence, "Seguid vuestro jefe (follow your leader); while upon the tarnished headboards, nearby, appeared, in stately capitals, once gilt, the ship’s name, SAN DOMINICK," each letter streakingly corroded with tricklings of copper-spike rust; while, like mourning weeds, dark festoons of sea grass slimily swept to and fro over the name, with every hearse-like roll of the hull.

As, at last, the boat was hooked from the bow along toward the gangway amidship, its keel, while yet some inches separated from the hull, harshly grated as on a sunken coral reef. It proved a huge bunch of conglobated barnacles adhering below the water to the side like a wen—a token of baffling airs and long calms passed somewhere in those seas.

Climbing the side, the visitor was at once surrounded by a clamorous throng of whites and blacks, but the latter outnumbering the former more than could have been expected, negro transportation ship as the stranger in port was. But, in one language, and as with one voice, all poured out a common tale of suffering; in which the negresses, of whom there were not a few, exceeded the others in their dolorous vehemence. The scurvy, together with the fever, had swept off a great part of their number, more especially the Spaniards. Off Cape Horn they had narrowly escaped shipwreck; then, for days together, they had lain tranced without wind; their provisions were low; their water next to none; their lips that moment were baked.

While Captain Delano was thus made the mark of all eager tongues, his one eager glance took in all faces, with every other object about him.

Always upon first boarding a large and populous ship at sea,

Reviews for Benito Cereno

[scottcholstad · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've always felt this was actually Melville's best work.

[stef7sa-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Entertaining story, well written.

[heidip_38 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Wowza. I don't even know what to say about Benito Cereno. This is my first Melville, believe it or not. I've never read his other works, and this is quite the introduction.Melville House says, "Based on a real-life incident--the character names remain unchanged--Benito Cereno tells what happens when an American merchant ship comes upon a mysterious Spanish ship where the nearly all-black crew and their white captain are starving and yet hostile to offers of help. Melville's most focused political work, it is rife with allusions (a ship named after Santa Domingo, site of the slave revolt led by Toussaint L'Ouverture), analogies (does the good-hearted yet obtuse American captain refer to the American character itself?) and mirroring images that deepen our reflections on human oppression and its resultant depravities."I'm assuming since Melville was born in New York and his grandparents hail from Boston, that he was anti-slavery. Since this was first published in 1855, my initial thoughts are that he writes this as a warning of sorts. Human oppression can only stand so much before it rises in revenge. If I understand the allusions and analogies correctly, this story is a scathing review of the naivete of the American north regarding slavery and of the emotional dependence the south has on it's slaves.This book stirs the racially-charged pot.

[aoibhealfae · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

"Benito Cereno" were never meant to be read only once. However, it took me some multiple reads into this short novel to make sense of the plot as the book need to be absorbed more than its meant to be read. Based on a true story, "Benito Cereno" was narrated by a very gullible unreliable narrator about a mysterious Spanish slave trade ship and its strange occupants. Like most thing in history about that time, the story basically centered about imperialism, slavery, white man burden, prejudices etc but its also a mystery and riddled with clues if you know where to look which made the story tolerable enough.

I guess the story would interest those who are interested in reading a very difficult writing style with complete unreliable primary POV narrator and have an interest in dominance-submissive relationship of this book. In fact, this book is riddled with all kind of power play which was simply too horrifying to dwell on it too much. Various interpretation of "rape" was the core of this novel.

I would have like it better if there are more clarity in the writing style of this book like Melville did with "Bartleby". I do think there's a way to write a rising action scene without the overuse of never-ending sentences. Besides the over comma paragraphs, I was supposed to have let Melville drag me along with his interpretation of the situation because of his familiarity with his nautical experiences. But I don't think the author nor the narrator offer us some degree of flawed humanity in the situation via the apparent ignorance prevailing until the climax of the story.

This book are meant to be read and reread. Its unavoidable to empathize with this novel to a degree considering that it shows the ugliness and flawed nature in everyone in the book. Its not meant to be likable but it is meant to be digested and its a strong novel like John Steinbeck's The Pearl but you really need a hard stomach to withstand the underlying message and various interpretations of this book.

[krizia_lazaro_3 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This was a boring book. It was short but I feel that I was reading a 1,000-page book. Its a book that you have a slight notion of what will happen next and thus just want to reach the climax. But the climax happened to far down the book. This book made me so sleepy I almost did not want to finish it.

[bolgai · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have heard about this book from a friend of mine, who's read it with her book club, so I generally knew what to expect in terms of plot developments. I was however pleasantly surprised by the characters in this novella. They were all remarkable in one way or another and since they were all very distinct their differences stood out all the more. It seems that authors in the middle of the 19th century weren't afraid to make their characters full of personality, take Dickens for example, and Melville definitely followed the same tradition. I particularly enjoyed the character of the proprietor, who is the narrator of this story. He tries so hard to be on good terms with all of his employees, regardless of the trouble they cause him, and makes up excuses to not take any action that would make him look good in his own eyes. What I didn't expect is how plodding the pace is. Now that I've read Benito Cereno I think that's something that is common in Melville's work. The same type of scene seemed to repeat over and over without furthering the plot or developing the characters. The only thing this repetition seemed to accomplish was to convince me further of utter and complete spinelessness of the proprietor, but I already knew that so it wore on me. I did enjoy the ending though. It seemed somewhat abrupt because events moved along faster than the rest of the story but it was very satisfying. In a way it was the only appropriate ending, anything else wouldn't have worked quite as well. It also redeemed the proprietor in my eyes somewhat, he did have a good heart even if his will was lacking. Despite the extremely slow middle of the novella the ending saved it for me and for a few days after finishing it I kept thinking about the characters and the story. I can see why Melville is considered such an important figure in American literature and why this particular piece is still widely read. I would recommend Bartleby if you want to read a work that will inspire you to think about people, their motivations and how they relate to each other.

[ohernaes · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great short story about revolting and scheming slaves. Who is controlling whom? A bit weird that everything is explained in detail in the last chapter.

[hadriantheblind · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Slow, well-crafted story of evil and slavery and rebellion and deceit.

[audacity88_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

At first seems like a sea story, then like a rather run-of-the-mill mystery novel, and then finally reveals itself (unless I'm overprojecting) to be a rather disturbing morality tale.spoiler:It forces us to ask to what degree Captain Delano represents ourselves, to conduct our own condemnation of the Americans but also, more importantly, of ourselves for (at least in my case) rooting for them.end spoilerAt first I was sure this wasn't a great book. Now I can see why it is, and if I read it again I think my appreciation will be twice as great the second time around.Oh, and this edition (Benito Cereno: A Text for Guided Research) is great because it has the actual memoirs of the real-life Amasa Delano, who is, incredibly, just as pigheaded as in the story, and whose story is just as bizarre.

[lisamaria_c · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've read both Moby Dick and Billy Budd, but of the Melville works I've read, it's this novella I find most impressive. There's none of the windy digressions in Moby Dick or the heavy-handed allegory of Billy Budd or The Confidence-man here. This is as close as I've found in Melville to taut, subtle writing. If I have any criticism it is that it comes dangerously close to the "idiot plot." (For this to work, one of the characters has to act like an idiot.) From here on end though, to explain what I did find awesome in this, I have to discuss spoilers. And they are spoilers. I had heard of this story, of what this was about. This is one of Melville's more famous works. And I wish I hadn't known--it's best I think to come at this story without knowledge, and I wouldn't read any introduction beforehand. Spoiler below:In a way, I wonder if it is a spoiler, because not only was the situation obvious to me but Melville signals from the start his point of view character, Captain Amasa Delano, is not to be trusted. Early on he describes him as "singularly undistrustful." This is set in 1797 during the Atlantic slave trade. The captain of an American ship, Delano, comes aboard a Spanish ship captained by Benito Cereno. From the first Delano notices that not only are the blacks on deck, who greatly outnumber the whites, unshackled, but that they are sharpening weapons. Huge clues keep coming that Captain Cereno is captive and that there has been a slave revolt on board, but Delano remains clueless. The whole novella is one of the most starkly unreliable narratives I've ever read. But here's what I find interesting. Throughout the narrative many racial, in fact very racist, comments are made. But not only are we signaled the narrator is, well, an idiot, but many of the events of the novella flat out contradict those racist assumptions--for instance docility and stupidity--for the black slaves not only successfully revolted, they're fooling Delano despite what's right before his eyes. So, it made me wonder. Just what does Melville believe? And what does he want us to take away from this story? Given the time this was written (1855) my assumption would have been that Melville's sympathies were with the white crew, and that he'd certainly expect that's how his readers would see things. But so much in this novella subverts that easy assumption. And that I do find awesome. Even amazing given the year this was written.

[meditationesmartini · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is tense and tight and moody like some kind of cross between a Poe story and Das Boot, which I never would have expected from Melville, who can be story-focused and atmospheric, sire, but in a way that is effaced (blown out of the water Pequod- --or Don Benito's ship under fire by the Americans, in this one--style) by his cosmic yearnings and baggymonstrosity. (Guy sends a lot of gauges up to 11!) It starts with a mystery--what's with this ship? Why are the blacks so creepily jaunty yet so eerily subdued? Who's in charge on this boat, anyway? The setup is golden. Melville limits himself to dramatizing the source material, though, and what that means is we get a novella of slave revolt on the high seas that has cannon battles and guys getting mutilated by the cruel negro and sympathy for the devil on a human level that gets completely subsumed within a larger allegory about global realpolitik, Delano as the early ugly naive lovable American running shit without even knowing. IT's hard to let Melville of the hook for that, but I think the problem is less that he was a man of his times who saw cruelty as cruelty and slavery as a policy debate, and more that he didn't give the story time to breathe, didn't flash us back to desperate negotiations and shocking developments on a ship of poor sods that means our world entire. The thing would have been to give us the perspective of one of the Africans, and for Cereno to be the serpent and Babo to be Ahab and Delano and his men to be the brutal ex machina. And in that sense, certainly, these are just the kind of openhearted, bouncing, paranoid farmboys that went to Afghanistan. This is less about slavery per se than an metaphor for the way America's handled its involvement in foreign disputes since day one--burn the village to save the village and then get a furrow of noncomprehension when you don't turn out to be the good guy any more than the slaves or the Spaniards. But that's ignoring--Melville's ignoring--that a story like this takes place against mass murder and rape and kidnapping and human trafficking right here in the good old US of A, acting like it's a foreign issue, pretending to a fairness that is bias itself like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It's--ha--like that awful Black Eyed Peas song "Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism / but we still got terrorists here livin' in the USA / the FBI, the CIA, the Bloods, the Crips, and the KKK". TBenito Cereno simplifies like the song simplifies--the blush every time you hear those stupid lyrics analogous to the interactions racked by etiquette between the two captains, the awkwardness to death that trumps even real death all around, and the impossibility in both cases of it turning into anything other than a bloodbath of the foreigner committed again by the well-meaning and clean. The climax feels cheap because the alternative is a closer look at the psychology of it, and Melville's not up for the complete cutting loose or condemnation of his Americans that the examination would make necessary for any feeling person.