CHAPTER 120. The Deck Towards the End of the First Night Watch. Ahab standing by the helm. Starbuck approaching him. “We must send down the main-top-sail yard, sir. The band is working loose and the lee lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike it, sir?” “Strike nothing; lash it. If I had sky-sail poles, I’d sway them up now.” “Sir!—in God’s name!—sir?” “Well.” “The anchors are working, sir. Shall I get them inboard?” “Strike nothing, and stir nothing, but lash everything. The wind rises, but it has not got up to my table-lands yet. Quick, and see to it.—By masts and