There is something so uncanny in the silent watchfulness of these giants
of the deep that a sailor always feels unpleasantly disposed toward them.
I thought how ghastly would be the ending of any one who should get
overboard that night. The sudden splash, the warm water about the body,
and the heads of the fellows at the rail starting to pull the unfortunate
aboard. Then the sudden grisly clutch from below, and the dragging down
out of sight and sound forever.

I began to actually reckon the amount of arsenic I should put into a
chunk of beef to trick the giant at his last meal.

"Sharp lightning on port bow, sir," came the news from the forward; for,
although I was supposed to be able to see well enough, I had taught the
men of my watch to sing out at everything unusual, more to be certain
that they were awake than anything else.

I looked up from the black depths and my unpleasant reflections, and
gazed to the southward. As I did so, several sharp flashes showed upon
the dark horizon. It looked as if something were raising fast, and I
stepped below a moment to see the glass. It was down to twenty-eight.
Going on deck at once, I bawled for the watch to clew down the
main-topgallantsail. In a moment the men were swarming up the main
rigging, and the sail was let go by the run, the yard settling nicely,
while the clews, buntlines, and leachlines were hauled down in unison.

"Mizzen topsail!" I cried.

The watch came up the poop ladders with a rush and tramping of feet that
sounded ominously loud for the work on so quiet a night. The yelling of