you talking about, then? Not one ship in a hundred carries rods, and Ahab, — aye, man, and all of us, — were in no more danger then, in my poor opinion, than all the crews in ten thousand ships now sailing the seas.

Why, you King-Post, you, I suppose you would have every man in the world go about with a small lightning-rod running up the corner of his hat, like a militia officer’s skewered feather, and trailing behind like his sash. Why don’t ye be sensible, Flask? it’s easy to be sensible; why don’t ye, then? any man with half an eye can be sensible.”

“I don’t know that, Stubb. You sometimes find it rather hard.”

“Yes, when a fellow’s soaked through, it’s hard to be sensible, that’s