Jinglers, you say?—there goes another, dropped off; I pound it so.
China sailor .
Rattle thy teeth, then, and pound away; make a pagoda of thyself.
French sailor .
Merry-mad! Hold up thy hoop, Pip, till I jump through it! Split jibs! tear yourselves!
Tashtego .
Quietly smoking. That’s a white man; he calls that fun: humph! I save my sweat.
Old Manx sailor .
I wonder whether those jolly lads bethink them of what they are dancing over. I’ll dance over your grave, I will—that’s the bitterest threat of your night-women, that beat headwinds round corners.
O Christ! to think of the green navies and the green-skulled crews!
Well, well; belike the whole world’s a ball, as you scholars have it; and so ’tis right to make one ballroom of it. Dance on, lads, you’re young; I was once.
3rd Nantucket sailor .
Spell oh!—whew! this is worse than pulling after whales in a calm—give us a whiff, Tash.
They cease dancing, and gather in clusters. Meantime the sky darkens—the wind rises.
Lascar sailor .