most satisfactory.  I say, just wring out my jacket skirts, will ye?  Thank ye.  They laugh at long-togs so, Flask; but seems to me, a long-tailed coat ought always to be worn in all storms afloat.  The tails tapering down that way, serve to carry off the water, d’ye see.  Same with cocked hats; the cocks form gable-end eave-troughs, Flask.  No more monkey-jackets and tarpaulins for me; I must mount a swallow-tail, and drive down a beaver; so.  Halloa! whew! there goes my tarpaulin overboard; Lord, Lord, that the winds that come from heaven should be so unmannerly!  This is a nasty night, lad.”

CHAPTER 122

Midnight Aloft.—­Thunder and Lightning

The Main-top-sail yard — Tashtego passing new lashings around it.

“Um, um, um.  Stop that thunder!  Plenty too much thunder up here.  What’s the use of thunder?  Um, um, um.  We don’t want thunder; we want rum; give us a glass of rum.  Um, um, um!”

CHAPTER 123

The Musket

During the most violent shocks of the Typhoon, the man at the Pequod’s jaw-bone tiller had several times been reelingly hurled to the deck by its spasmodic motions even though preventer tackles had been attached to it—­ for they were slack—­because some play to the tiller was indispensable.

In a severe gale like this, while the ship is but a tossed shuttlecock to the blast, it is by no means uncommon to see the needles in the compasses, at intervals, go round and round.  It was thus with the Pequod’s; at almost every shock the helmsman had not failed to notice the whirling velocity with which they revolved upon the cards; it is a sight that hardly anyone can behold without some sort of unwonted emotion.

Some hours after midnight, the Typhoon abated so much, that through the strenuous exertions of Starbuck and Stubb—­ one engaged forward and the other aft—­the shivered remnants of the jib and fore and main-top-sails were cut adrift from the spars, and went eddying away to leeward, like the feathers of an albatross, which sometimes are cast to the winds when that storm-tossed bird is on the wing.

The three corresponding new sails were now bent and reefed, and a storm-trysail was set further aft; so that the ship soon went through the water with some precision again; and the course—­ for the present, East-south-east—­which he was to steer, if practicable, was once more given to the helmsman.  For during the violence of the gale, he had only steered according to its vicissitudes.  But as he was now bringing the ship as near her course as possible, watching the compass meanwhile, lo! a good sign! the wind seemed coming round astern; aye, the foul breeze became fair!

Instantly the yards were squared, to the lively song of “Ho! the fair wind! oh-ye-ho cheerly, men!” the crew singing for joy, that so promising an event should so soon have falsified the evil portents preceding it.