Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

  CHAPTER 120

  The Deck Toward 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 workingloose and the lee lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike it, sir?"

  "Strike nothing; lash it. If I had sky-sail poles, I'd swaythem 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 hunchbacked skipper of somecoasting smack. Send down my main-top-sail yard! Ho, gluepots!Loftiest trucks were made for wildest winds, and this brain-truckof 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!"