Owen Chase: To return to port without a single barrel of oil would be a mistake, sir. And not behoove a man whose name is Pollard. Or Chase, for that matter. And the best thing for both of us would be to work all hours Gods sends us, fill this ship with oil and be home inside a year and rid of one another as quickly as possible. Trust me, I am every bit as desirous of that as you.
Old Thomas Nickerson: Take the money and leave! The devil's bargain.
Herman Melville: No, sir. The devil loves unspoken secrets. Especially those that fester in a man's soul.
Old Thomas Nickerson: What's yours?
Old Thomas Nickerson: Greed took hold of our captain and first mate. So we headed out. A thousand leagues along the equator. Where knowledge ended, speculation began. That's where the whales had gone to hide. As far from man as they could possibly go. But we hunted them down. Centuries before, sailors feared sailing off the edge of the Earth. But we where headed for the edge of sanity. Trust gave way to doubt. Hope to blind superstition.