{"id":"01KFNR8B7RWA11KXG7KMAZ5ZH2","cid":"bafkreicyu2z3ow76gpook7vvdghvgo3nfzbal77c26pxn5kitq5erev2nm","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":19562,"extracted_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:06.410Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 0","source_file":"01KFNR0Z394A878Y5AQ63MQEM2","start_line":19494,"text":"_Stubb and Flask mounted on them, and passing additional lashings over\r\nthe anchors there hanging._\r\n\r\n“No, Stubb; you may pound that knot there as much as you please, but\r\nyou will never pound into me what you were just now saying. And how\r\nlong ago is it since you said the very contrary? Didn’t you once say\r\nthat whatever ship Ahab sails in, that ship should pay something extra\r\non its insurance policy, just as though it were loaded with powder\r\nbarrels aft and boxes of lucifers forward? Stop, now; didn’t you say\r\nso?”\r\n\r\n“Well, suppose I did? What then? I’ve part changed my flesh since that\r\ntime, why not my mind? Besides, supposing we _are_ loaded with powder\r\nbarrels aft and lucifers forward; how the devil could the lucifers get\r\nafire in this drenching spray here? Why, my little man, you have pretty\r\nred hair, but you couldn’t get afire now. Shake yourself; you’re\r\nAquarius, or the water-bearer, Flask; might fill pitchers at your coat\r\ncollar. Don’t you see, then, that for these extra risks the Marine\r\nInsurance companies have extra guarantees? Here are hydrants, Flask.\r\nBut hark, again, and I’ll answer ye the other thing. First take your\r\nleg off from the crown of the anchor here, though, so I can pass the\r\nrope; now listen. What’s the mighty difference between holding a mast’s\r\nlightning-rod in the storm, and standing close by a mast that hasn’t\r\ngot any lightning-rod at all in a storm? Don’t you see, you\r\ntimber-head, that no harm can come to the holder of the rod, unless the\r\nmast is first struck? What are you talking about, then? Not one ship in\r\na hundred carries rods, and Ahab,—aye, man, and all of us,—were in no\r\nmore danger then, in my poor opinion, than all the crews in ten\r\nthousand ships now sailing the seas. Why, you King-Post, you, I suppose\r\nyou would have every man in the world go about with a small\r\nlightning-rod running up the corner of his hat, like a militia\r\nofficer’s skewered feather, and trailing behind like his sash. Why\r\ndon’t ye be sensible, Flask? it’s easy to be sensible; why don’t ye,\r\nthen? any man with half an eye can be sensible.”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know that, Stubb. You sometimes find it rather hard.”\r\n\r\n“Yes, when a fellow’s soaked through, it’s hard to be sensible, that’s\r\na fact. And I am about drenched with this spray. Never mind; catch the\r\nturn there, and pass it. Seems to me we are lashing down these anchors\r\nnow as if they were never going to be used again. Tying these two\r\nanchors here, Flask, seems like tying a man’s hands behind him. And\r\nwhat big generous hands they are, to be sure. These are your iron\r\nfists, hey? What a hold they have, too! I wonder, Flask, whether the\r\nworld is anchored anywhere; if she is, she swings with an uncommon long\r\ncable, though. There, hammer that knot down, and we’ve done. So; next\r\nto touching land, lighting on deck is the most satisfactory. I say,\r\njust wring out my jacket skirts, will ye? Thank ye. They laugh at\r\nlong-togs so, Flask; but seems to me, a long tailed coat ought always\r\nto be worn in all storms afloat. The tails tapering down that way,\r\nserve to carry off the water, d’ye see. Same with cocked hats; the\r\ncocks form gable-end eave-troughs, Flask. No more monkey-jackets and\r\ntarpaulins for me; I must mount a swallow-tail, and drive down a\r\nbeaver; so. Halloa! whew! there goes my tarpaulin overboard; Lord,\r\nLord, that the winds that come from heaven should be so unmannerly!\r\nThis is a nasty night, lad.”\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 122. Midnight Aloft.—Thunder and Lightning.\r\n\r\n_The main-top-sail yard_.—_Tashtego passing new lashings around it_.\r\n\r\n“Um, um, um. Stop that thunder! Plenty too much thunder up here. What’s\r\nthe use of thunder? Um, um, um. We don’t want thunder; we want rum;\r\ngive us a glass of rum. Um, um, um!”\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER 123. The Musket.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 0"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KFNR85HB8J447E0DZTW7DRQ6","peer_label":"125","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KFNR85HB8J447E0DZTW7DRQ6","peer_label":"125","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR81RMVAX2BBMMBW51V97D","peer_label":"Moby Dick; Or, The Whale","peer_type":"novel","predicate":"partOf"},{"peer":"01KFNR0H0Q791Y1SMZWEQ09FGV","peer_label":"Moby Dick","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KFNR8B6NHZXXW18HX02WRHGM","peer_label":"Chunk 1","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-23T15:41:06.900Z","ts":"2026-01-23T15:41:18.906Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}