The deck of the Pequod. This is your slate wiped clean, this is your long construction, these are your eaten arms and your eaten legs, these are your specter eyes, glowing, fiery. Her planks are specter planks, her sails are specter sails, her hemp is specter hemp. This is the terrible entrance; this is the massive golden disk; still you have your hair and your teeth. And so we sail, broken, opened up. The books could not be opened, no one could open the books. He sits in here growing terrible, his eyes are terrible, his mouth is terrible, his bearded face is terrible. Elephants!