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CHAPTER 78 . Cistern and Buckets . Nimble as a cat , Tashtego mounts aloft ; and without altering his erect posture , runs straight out upon the overhanging mainyard - arm , to the part where it exactly projects over the hoisted Tun . He has carried with him a light tackle called a whip , consisting of only two parts , travelling through a single - sheaved block . Securing this block , so that it hangs down from the yard - arm , he swings one end of the rope , till it is caught and firmly held by a hand on deck . Then , hand - over - hand , down the other part , the Indian drops through the air , till dexterously he lands on the summit of the head . There — still high elevated above the rest of the company , to whom he vivaciously cries — he seems some Turkish Muezzin calling the good people to prayers from the top of a tower . A short - handled sharp spade being sent up to him , he diligently searches for the proper place to begin breaking into the Tun . In this business he proceeds very heedfully , like a treasure - hunter in some old house , sounding the walls to find where the gold is masoned in . By the time this cautious search is over , a stout iron - bound bucket , precisely like a well - bucket , has been attached to one end of the whip ; while the other end , being stretched across the deck , is there held by two or three alert hands . These last now hoist the bucket within grasp of the Indian , to whom another person has reached up a very long pole . Inserting this pole into the bucket , Tashtego downward guides the bucket into the Tun , till it entirely disappears ; then giving the word to the seamen at the whip , up comes the bucket again , all bubbling like a dairy - maid’s pail of new milk . Carefully lowered from its height , the full - freighted vessel is caught by an appointed hand , and quickly emptied into a large tub . Then remounting aloft , it again goes through the same round until the deep cistern will yield no more . Towards the end , Tashtego has to ram his long pole harder and harder , and deeper and deeper into the Tun , until some twenty feet of the pole have gone down . Now , the people of the Pequod had been baling some time in this way ; several tubs had been filled with the fragrant sperm ; when all at once a queer accident happened . Whether it was that Tashtego , that wild Indian , was so heedless and reckless as to let go for a moment his one - handed hold on the great cabled tackles suspending the head ; or whether the place where he stood was so treacherous and oozy ; or whether the Evil One himself would have it to fall out so , without stating his particular reasons ; how it was exactly , there is no telling now ; but , on a sudden , as the eightieth or ninetieth bucket came suckingly up — my God ! poor Tashtego — like the twin reciprocating bucket in a veritable well , dropped head - foremost down into this great Tun of Heidelburgh , and with a horrible oily gurgling , went clean out of sight !
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