THE WHITE WHALE 
159 
OLD MANX SAILOR 
How the three pines shake! Pines are the hardest sort of tree to 
live when shifted to any other soil, and here there’s none but the crew’s 
cursed clay. Steady, helmsman! steady. This is the sort of weather 
when brave hearts snap ashore, and keeled hulls split at sea. Our 
captain has his birthmark; look yonder, boys, there’s another in the 
sky — lurid-like, ye see, all else pitch black. 
DAGGOO 
What of that ? Who’s afraid of black’s afraid of me ! I’m quarried 
out of it ! 
SPANISH SAILOR 
(Aside.) He wants to bully, ah ! — the old grudge makes me touchy. 
(Advancing.) Aye, harpooneer, thy race is the undeniable dark side 
of mankind — devilish dark at that. No offence. 
daggoo (grimly). 
None. 
ST. JAGO’s SAILOR 
That Spaniard’s mad or drunk. But that can’t be, or else in his own 
case our old Mogul’s fire-waters are somewhat long in working. 
FIFTH NANTUCKET SAILOR 
What’s that I saw — lightning? Yes. 
SPANISH SAILOR 
No; Daggoo showing his teeth. 
daggoo (springing). 
Swallow thine, mannikin! White skin, white liver! 
Spanish sailor (meeting him). 
Knife thee heartily ! big frame, small spirit ! 
