93 
THE WHITE WHALE 
would sink the ship before the anchor could be got up; involuntarily I 
paused on my handspike, and told Queequeg to do the same, thinking 
of the perils we both ran, in starting on the voyage with such a devil 
for a pilot. I was comforting myself, however, with the thought that 
in pious Bildad might he found some salvation, spite of his seven 
hundred and seventy-seventh lay ! when I felt a sudden sharp poke in 
my rear, and turning round, was horrified at the apparition of Captain 
Peleg in the act of withdrawing his leg from my immediate vicinity. 
That was my first kick. 
“Is that the way they heave in the marchant service ?” he roared. 
“Spring, thou sheephead ; spring, and break thy backbone ! Why, don’t 
ye spring, I say, all of ye — spring! Quohog! spring, thou chap with 
the red whiskers; spring there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou green pants. 
Spring, I say, all of ye, and spring your eyes out !” And so saying, 
he moved along the windlass, here and there using his leg very freely, 
while imperturbable Bildad kept leading off with his psalmody. Thinks 
I, Captain Peleg must have been drinking something to-day. 
At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided. It 
was a sharp, cold Christmas ; and as the short northern day merged into 
night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose 
freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armour. The long rows of 
teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight; and like the white 
ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curving icicles depended from 
the bows. 
Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the first watch, and ever and anon, as 
the old craft deep dived into the green seas, and sent the shivering 
frost all over her, and the winds howled, and the cordage rang, his 
steady notes were heard, — 
“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, 
Stand dress’d in living green. 
So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
While Jordan roll’d between.” 
Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then. 
They were full of hope and fruition. Spite of this frigid winter night 
in the boisterous Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there 
was yet, it then seemed to me, many a pleasant haven in store; and 
