tree to live when shifted to any other soil, and here there’s none but the crew’s cursed clay. Steady, helmsman! steady. This is the sort of weather when brave hearts snap ashore, and keeled hulls split at sea. Our captain has his birthmark; look yonder, boys, there’s another in the sky—lurid-like, ye see, all else pitch black.
daggoo.
What of that? Who’s afraid of black’s afraid of me! I’m quarried out of it!
spanish sailor.
(Aside.) He wants to bully, ah!—the old grudge makes me touchy. (Advancing.) Aye, harpooneer, thy race is the undeniable dark side of mankind—devilish dark at that. No offence.
daggoo (grimly).
None.
st. jago’s sailor.
That Spaniard’s mad or drunk. But that can’t be, or else in his one case our old Mogul’s fire-waters are somewhat long in working.
5th nantucket sailor.
What’s that I saw—lightning? Yes.
spanish sailor.
No; Daggoo showing his teeth.
daggoo (springing).
Swallow thine, mannikin! White skin, white liver!
spanish sailor (meeting him).
Knife thee heartily! big frame, small spirit!
all.
A row! a row! a row!
tashtego (with a whiff).
A row a’low, and a row aloft—Gods and men—both brawlers! Humph!
