- description
- # CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.
## Overview
This entity is a section of text from the novel "Moby-Dick; or, The Whale." Titled "CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.", it spans lines 19442 to 19468 of the source file.
## Context
This section is part of the novel "Moby-Dick; or, The Whale," which was extracted from the file "[moby_dick.txt](arke:01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6)" and is included in the "[Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW)" collection. It follows "[CHAPTER 119. The Candles.](arke:01KG8AMBF5GKHB25HMZ0GD3C3B)" and precedes "[CHAPTER 121. Midnight.—The Forecastle Bulwarks.](arke:01KG8AMBF553SA7FE3XN6YK2AW)". The chapter it belongs to is "[BOOK III. (_Duodecimo_), CHAPTER III. (_Mealy-mouthed Porpoise_)](arke:01KG8AK83BA227D6NY5BT040FM)".
## Contents
This section depicts a dialogue between Ahab and Starbuck on the deck of the Pequod towards the end of the first night watch. Starbuck reports that the main-top-sail yard needs to be sent down due to the band working loose and the lee lift being half-stranded. Ahab, however, orders that nothing be struck, but everything lashed, expressing his determination to sail through the rising wind. He uses metaphorical language, referring to his "brain-truck" and the "cloud-scud," and likens the storm's noise to a "noisy malady" requiring medicine. The dialogue highlights Ahab's defiant and almost reckless attitude towards the storm.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T20:51:14.502Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.
- end_line
- 19468
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:29.272Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 19442
- text
- CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.
_Ahab standing by the helm. Starbuck approaching him._
“We must send down the main-top-sail yard, sir. The band is working
loose and the lee lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike it, sir?”
“Strike nothing; lash it. If I had sky-sail poles, I’d sway them up
now.”
“Sir!—in God’s name!—sir?”
“Well.”
“The anchors are working, sir. Shall I get them inboard?”
“Strike nothing, and stir nothing, but lash everything. The wind rises,
but it has not got up to my table-lands yet. Quick, and see to it.—By
masts and keels! he takes me for the hunch-backed skipper of some
coasting smack. Send down my main-top-sail yard! Ho, gluepots! Loftiest
trucks were made for wildest winds, and this brain-truck of mine now
sails amid the cloud-scud. Shall I strike that? Oh, none but cowards
send down their brain-trucks in tempest time. What a hooroosh aloft
there! I would e’en take it for sublime, did I not know that the colic
is a noisy malady. Oh, take medicine, take medicine!”
- title
- CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch.