(Stubb solus, and mending a brace. ) Ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat! —I’ve been thinking over it ever since, and that ha, ha’s the final consequence. Why so?
Because a laugh’s the wisest, easiest answer to all that’s queer; and come what will, one comfort’s always left—that unfailing comfort is, it’s all predestinated.
I heard not all his talk with Starbuck; but to my poor eye Starbuck then looked something as I the other evening felt. Be sure the old Mogul has fixed him, too.
I twigged it, knew it; had had the gift, might readily have prophesied it—for when I clapped my eye upon his skull I saw it. Well, Stubb, wise Stubb—that’s my title—well, Stubb, what of it, Stubb? Here’s a carcase.
I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing. Such a waggish leering as lurks in all your horribles! I feel funny. Fa, la! lirra, skirra! What’s my juicy little pear at home doing now?
Crying its eyes out? —Giving a party to the last arrived harpooneers, I dare say, gay as a frigate ’s pennant, and so am I—fa, la! lirra, skirra!
Oh— We’ll drink to-night with hearts as light, To love, as gay and fleeting As bubbles that swim, on the beaker’s brim, And break on the lips while meeting. A brave stave that—who calls? Mr. Starbuck?
Aye, aye, sir—(Aside) he’s my superior, he has his too, if I’m not mistaken. —Aye, aye, sir, just through with this job—coming.