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Most famous in our Western annals and Indian traditions is that of

the White Steed of the Prairies; a magnificent milk-white charger,

large-eyed, small-headed, bluff-chested, and with the dignity

of a thousand monarchs in his lofty, overscorning carriage.

He was the elected Xerxes of vast herds of wild horses,

whose pastures in those days were only fenced by the Rocky Mountains

and the Alleghanies.  At their flaming head he westward

trooped it like that chosen star which every evening leads

on the hosts of light.  The flashing cascade of his mane,

the curving comet of his tail, invested him with housings more

resplendent than gold and silver-beaters could have furnished him.

A most imperial and archangelical apparition of that unfallen,

western world, which to the eyes of the old trappers and hunters

revived the glories of those primeval times when Adam walked

majestic as a god, bluff-bowed and fearless as this mighty steed.

Whether marching amid his aides and marshals in the van of

countless cohorts that endlessly streamed it over the plains,

like an Ohio; or whether with his circumambient subjects browsing

all around at the horizon, the White Steed gallopingly reviewed

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be stated, that, in the old Dutch fishery, a mop was used

to dash the running line with water; in many other ships,

a wooden piggin, or bailer, is set apart for that purpose.

Your hat, however, is the most convenient.





From the vibrating line extending the entire length of the upper part

of the boat, and from its now being more tight than a harpstring,

you would have thought the craft had two keels--one cleaving the water,

the other the air--as the boat churned on through both opposing

elements at once.  A continual cascade played at the bows;

a ceaseless whirling eddy in her wake; and, at the slightest motion

from within, even but of a little finger, the vibrating, cracking craft

canted over her spasmodic gunwale into the sea.  Thus they rushed;

each man with might and main clinging to his seat, to prevent being

tossed to the foam; and the tall form of Tashtego at the steering oar

crouching almost double, in order to bring down his centre of gravity.

Whole Atlantics and Pacifics seemed passed as they shot on their way,

till at length the whale somewhat slackened his flight.



"Haul in--haul in!" cried Stubb to the bowsman! and,