“Look at that chap now,” philosophically drawled Stubb, who, with his unlighted short pipe, mechanically retained between his teeth, at a short distance, followed after⁠—“He’s got fits, that Flask has. Fits? yes, give him fits⁠—that’s the very word⁠—pitch fits into ’em. Merrily, merrily, hearts-alive. Pudding for supper, you know;⁠—merry’s the word. Pull, babes⁠—pull, sucklings⁠—pull, all. But what the devil are you hurrying about? Softly, softly, and steadily, my men. Only pull, and keep pulling; nothing more. Crack all your backbones, and bite your knives in two⁠—that’s all. Take it easy⁠—why don’t ye take it easy, I say, and burst all your livers and lungs!”

But what it was that inscrutable Ahab said to that tiger-yellow crew of his⁠—these were words best omitted here; for you live under the blessed light of the evangelical land. Only the infidel sharks in the audacious seas may give ear to such words, when, with tornado brow, and eyes of red murder, and foam-glued lips, Ahab leaped after his prey.