the crew, man, the crew! are they not one and all with ahab, in this matter of the whale? see stubb! he laughs! see yonder chilian! he snorts to think of it. stand up amid the general hurricane, thy one tost sapling cannot, starbuck! and what is it? reckon it. ’tis but to help strike a fin; no wondrous feat for starbuck. what is it more? from this one poor hunt, then, the best lance out of all nantucket, surely he will not hang back, when every foremast-hand has clutched a whetstone? ah! constrainings seize thee; i see! the billow lifts thee!