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 skysail poles, I’d sway them up now.”
“Sir!—in God’s name!—sir?”
“Well.”
“The anchors are working, sir. Shall I get them inboard?”