And still, at wide intervals in the silvery night, the lonely,
alluring jet would be seen.
But one transparent blue morning, when a stillness almost
preternatural spread over the sea, however unattended with any
stagnant calm; when the long burnished sun-glade on the waters
seemed a golden finger laid across them, enjoining some secrecy;
when the slippered waves whispered together as they softly ran on;
in this profound hush of the visible sphere a strange spectre
was seen by Daggoo from the main-mast-head.
In the distance, a great white mass lazily rose, and rising higher
and higher, and disentangling itself from the azure, at last gleamed
before our prow like a snow-slide, new slid from the hills.
Thus glistening for a moment, as slowly it subsided, and sank.
Then once more arose, and silently gleamed. It seemed not a whale;
and yet is this Moby Dick? thought Daggoo. Again the phantom
went down, but on re-appearing once more, with a stiletto-like
cry that startled every man from his nod, the negro yelled
out--"There! there again! there she breaches! right ahead!
The White Whale, the White Whale!"
Upon this, the seamen rushed to the yard-arms, as in swarming-time
the bees rush to the boughs.
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