“Great God! but for one single instant show thyself,” cried Starbuck; “never, never wilt thou capture him, old man—­ In Jesus’ name no more of this, that’s worse than devil’s madness.  Two days chased; twice stove to splinters; thy very leg once more snatched from under thee; thy evil shadow gone—­all good angels mobbing thee with warnings:—­what more wouldst thou have?—­ Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish till he swamps the last man?  Shall we be dragged by him to the bottom of the sea?  Shall we be towed by him to the infernal world?  Oh, oh,—­ Impiety and blasphemy to hunt him more!”

“Starbuck, of late I’ve felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that hour we both saw—­thou know’st what, in one another’s eyes.  But in this matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this hand—­a lipless, unfeatured blank.  Ahab is for ever Ahab, man.  This whole act’s immutably decreed.  ’Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled.  Fool!  I am the Fates’ lieutenant; I act under orders.  Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine.—­Stand round men, men.  Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered lance; propped up on a lonely foot.  ’Tis Ahab—­his body’s part; but Ahab’s soul’s a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs.  I feel strained, half-stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a gale; and I may look so.  But ere I break, yell hear me crack; and till ye hear that, know that Ahab’s hawser tows his purpose yet.  Believe ye, men, in the things called omens?  Then laugh aloud, and cry encore!  For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface; then rise again, to sink for evermore.  So with Moby Dick—­two days he’s floated—­to-morrow will be the third.  Aye, men, he’ll rise once more,—­but only to spout his last!  D’ye feel brave men, brave?”

“As fearless fire,” cried Stubb.

“And as mechanical,” muttered Ahab.  Then as the men went forward, he muttered on:  “The things called omens!  And yesterday I talked the same to Starbuck there, concerning my broken boat.  Oh! how valiantly I seek to drive out of others’ hearts what’s clinched so fast in mine!—­ The Parsee—­the Parsee!—­gone, gone? and he was to go before:—­ but still was to be seen again ere I could perish—­How’s that?—­ There’s a riddle now might baffle all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of the whole line of judges:—­like a hawk’s beak it pecks my brain.  I’ll, I’ll solve it, though!”

When dusk descended, the whale was still in sight to leeward.

So once more the sail was shortened, and everything passed nearly as on the previous night; only, the sound of hammers, and the hum of the grindstone was heard till nearly daylight, as the men toiled by lanterns in the complete and careful rigging of the spare boats and sharpening their fresh weapons for the morrow.  Meantime, of the broken keel of Ahab’s wrecked craft the carpenter made him another leg; while still as on the night before, slouched Ahab stood fixed within his scuttle; his hid, heliotrope glance anticipatingly gone backward on its dial; sat due eastward for the earliest sun.