“It was he, it was he!” cried Ahab, suddenly letting out his suspended breath.

“And harpoons sticking in near his starboard fin.”

“Aye, aye⁠—they were mine⁠— my irons,” cried Ahab, exultingly⁠—“but on!”

“Give me a chance, then,” said the Englishman, good-humoredly. “Well, this old great-grandfather, with the white head and hump, runs all afoam into the pod, and goes to snapping furiously at my fast-line.”

“Aye, I see!⁠—wanted to part it; free the fast-fish⁠—an old trick⁠—I know him.”