“Darn the whales,” cries the skipper at length, “with a telescope forte videbo
Aut pisces, aut terras.” While speaking, just two or three points on the lea bow,
He saw coming towards them as fast as though to a combat ’twould tempt ’em,
A monstrum horrendum informe (qui lumen was shortly ademptum).
On the taffrail up jumps in a hurry, dux fortis, and seizing a trumpet,
Blows a blast that would waken the dead, mare turbat et aera rumpit—
“Tumble up all you lubbers,” he cries, “tumble up, for careering before us
Is the real old sea sarpent himself, cristis maculisque decorus.”
“Consarn it,” cried one of the sailors, “if e’er we provoke him he’ll kill us,
He’ll certainly chaw up hos morsu, et longis, implexibus illos.”