{"id":"01KG8AP5AY8ZN06MH8BPJHAV97","cid":"bafkreih7tr52zh6x3cnirb2ufppuoyqw63adlcwd5fl4ovpqcuzmi3znam","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":19256,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:49:30.774Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6","start_line":19176,"text":"CHAPTER 119. The Candles.\r\n\r\nWarmest climes but nurse the cruellest fangs: the tiger of Bengal\r\ncrouches in spiced groves of ceaseless verdure. Skies the most\r\neffulgent but basket the deadliest thunders: gorgeous Cuba knows\r\ntornadoes that never swept tame northern lands. So, too, it is, that in\r\nthese resplendent Japanese seas the mariner encounters the direst of\r\nall storms, the Typhoon. It will sometimes burst from out that\r\ncloudless sky, like an exploding bomb upon a dazed and sleepy town.\r\n\r\nTowards evening of that day, the Pequod was torn of her canvas, and\r\nbare-poled was left to fight a Typhoon which had struck her directly\r\nahead. When darkness came on, sky and sea roared and split with the\r\nthunder, and blazed with the lightning, that showed the disabled masts\r\nfluttering here and there with the rags which the first fury of the\r\ntempest had left for its after sport.\r\n\r\nHolding by a shroud, Starbuck was standing on the quarter-deck; at\r\nevery flash of the lightning glancing aloft, to see what additional\r\ndisaster might have befallen the intricate hamper there; while Stubb\r\nand Flask were directing the men in the higher hoisting and firmer\r\nlashing of the boats. But all their pains seemed naught. Though lifted\r\nto the very top of the cranes, the windward quarter boat (Ahab’s) did\r\nnot escape. A great rolling sea, dashing high up against the reeling\r\nship’s high teetering side, stove in the boat’s bottom at the stern,\r\nand left it again, all dripping through like a sieve.\r\n\r\n“Bad work, bad work! Mr. Starbuck,” said Stubb, regarding the wreck,\r\n“but the sea will have its way. Stubb, for one, can’t fight it. You\r\nsee, Mr. Starbuck, a wave has such a great long start before it leaps,\r\nall round the world it runs, and then comes the spring! But as for me,\r\nall the start I have to meet it, is just across the deck here. But\r\nnever mind; it’s all in fun: so the old song says;”—(_sings_.)\r\n\r\n\r\n  Oh! jolly is the gale, And a joker is the whale, A’ flourishin’ his\r\n  tail,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad, is the\r\n  Ocean, oh!\r\n\r\n  The scud all a flyin’, That’s his flip only foamin’; When he stirs in\r\n  the spicin’,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad,\r\n  is the Ocean, oh!\r\n\r\n  Thunder splits the ships, But he only smacks his lips, A tastin’ of\r\n  this flip,— Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad,\r\n  is the Ocean, oh!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n“Avast Stubb,” cried Starbuck, “let the Typhoon sing, and strike his\r\nharp here in our rigging; but if thou art a brave man thou wilt hold\r\nthy peace.”\r\n\r\n“But I am not a brave man; never said I was a brave man; I am a coward;\r\nand I sing to keep up my spirits. And I tell you what it is, Mr.\r\nStarbuck, there’s no way to stop my singing in this world but to cut my\r\nthroat. And when that’s done, ten to one I sing ye the doxology for a\r\nwind-up.”\r\n\r\n“Madman! look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.”\r\n\r\n“What! how can you see better of a dark night than anybody else, never\r\nmind how foolish?”\r\n\r\n“Here!” cried Starbuck, seizing Stubb by the shoulder, and pointing his\r\nhand towards the weather bow, “markest thou not that the gale comes\r\nfrom the eastward, the very course Ahab is to run for Moby Dick? the\r\nvery course he swung to this day noon? now mark his boat there; where\r\nis that stove? In the stern-sheets, man; where he is wont to stand—his\r\nstand-point is stove, man! Now jump overboard, and sing away, if thou\r\nmust!\r\n\r\n“I don’t half understand ye: what’s in the wind?”\r\n\r\n“Yes, yes, round the Cape of Good Hope is the shortest way to\r\nNantucket,” soliloquized Starbuck suddenly, heedless of Stubb’s\r\nquestion. “The gale that now hammers at us to stave us, we can turn it\r\ninto a fair wind that will drive us towards home. Yonder, to windward,\r\nall is blackness of doom; but to leeward, homeward—I see it lightens up\r\nthere; but not with the lightning.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AMBF5GKHB25HMZ0GD3C3B","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J198KE6FY8WPVJQQRCZ6","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AP5B24TNR0FHDWEJ4EZZT","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:49:33.534Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:56.226Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}