As for Peleg himself, he took it more like a philosopher; but for all his philosophy, there was a tear twinkling in his eye, when the lantern came too near. And he, too, did not a little run from cabin to deck⁠—now a word below, and now a word with Starbuck, the chief mate.

But, at last, he turned to his comrade, with a final sort of look about him⁠—“Captain Bildad⁠—come, old shipmate, we must go. Back the main-yard there! Boat ahoy! Stand by to come close alongside, now! Careful, careful!⁠—come, Bildad, boy⁠—say your last. Luck to ye, Starbuck⁠—luck to ye, Mr. Stubb⁠—luck to ye, Mr. Flask⁠—goodbye and good luck to ye all⁠—and this day three years I’ll have a hot supper smoking for ye in old Nantucket. Hurrah and away!”