When palms meet in harmony, a celebration of success, echoing the sound of victory in the air. A hand-to-hand compliment, rising to greet the sky, a friendly gesture that seals the moment.

Beastly leviathan from thunderous waves, crashing and thrashing sends men to their graves. Through day into night the lurid white whale writhes and contorts to no avail. By grit and resolve the monster is slain, but what kind of rod was thrown again?

No windows needed, yet I breathe, With wooden ribs and a dusty sheath. I keep the harvest safe from harm.

I have a bowl but cannot hold water alone, I sit in your kitchen but am not a throne. You use me daily to eat your meal. What am I?

Avast, matey, a single window I keep, But depth perception is a secret I sleep. What be the gear of a pirate so deep?