.. < chapter cxx 10  THE DECK TOWARDS THE END OF THE FIRST NIGHT WATCH >


    

Ahab standing by the helm.  Starbuck approaching him.  We must send down the

main-top-sail yard, sir.  The band is working loose, and the lee lift is

half-stranded.  Shall I strike it, sir?  Strike nothing; lash it.  If I had

sky-sail poles, I'd sway them up now.  Sir? --in God's name! --sir?  Well.


     The anchors are working, sir.  Shall I get them inboard?  Strike nothing,

and stir nothing, but lash everything.  The wind rises, but it has not got

up to my table-lands yet.  Quick, and see to it. --By masts and keels!  he

takes me for the hunch-backed skipper of some coasting smack.  Send down my

main-top-sail yard!  Ho, gluepots!  Loftiest trucks were made for wildest

winds, and this brain-truck of mine now sails amid the cloud-scud.  Shall I

strike that?  Oh, none but cowards send down their brain-trucks in tempest

time.  What a hooroosh aloft there!  I would e'en take it for sublime, did I

not know that the colic is a noisy malady.  Oh, take medicine, take

medicine!

.. <p 503 >