“But at every bite, sir, the thin blades grow smaller and smaller!”

“They will last long enough! Pull on! — But who can tell” — he muttered — “whether these sharks swim to feast on the whale or on Ahab? — But pull on! Aye, all alive, now — we near him.

The helm! Take the helm! Let me pass,” — and so saying two of the oarsmen helped him forward to the bows of the still flying boat.

At length as the craft was cast to one side, and ran ranging along with the White Whale’s flank, he seemed strangely oblivious of its advance — as the whale sometimes will — and Ahab was fairly within the smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off from the whale’s spout, curled round