ly begun the day's work. The whale was heading in the
direction of the ship, and when we came up to the scene of action the
second mate had just "touched the life"; in other words, he had driven
the lance deep down into the whale's vitals. This was quickly known by
jets of blood being spouted up through the blowholes. Soon after, our
victim went into its dying agonies, or, as whalemen say, "his flurry ".

This did not last long. In a short time he rolled over dead. We
fastened a line to his tail, the three boats took the carcass in tow,
and, singing a lively song, we rowed away to the ship.

Thus ended our first battle with the whales.

CHAPTER IV

"CUTTING IN" THE BLUBBER AND "TRYING OUT" THE OIL

The scene that took place on board ship after we caught our first fish
was most wonderful. We commenced the operation of what is called
"cutting in", that is, cutting up the whale, and getting the fat or
blubber hoisted in. The next thing we did was to "try out" the oil, or
melt down the fat in large iron pots brought with us for this purpose;
and the change that took place in the appearance of the ship and the
men when this began was very remarkable.

When we left port our decks were clean, our sails white, our masts well
scraped; the brass-work about the quarter-deck was well polished, and
the men looked tidy and clean. A few hours after our first whale had
been secured alongside all this was changed. The cutting up of the
huge carcass covered the decks with oil and blood, making them so
slippery that they had to be covered with sand to enable the men to
walk about. Then the smoke of the great fires under the melting pots
begrimed the masts, sails, and cordage with soot. The faces and hands
of the men got so covered with oil and soot that it would have puzzled
anyone to say whether they were white or black. Their clothes, too,
became so dirty that it was impossible to clean them. But, indeed,
whalemen do not much mind this. In fact, they take a pleasure in all
the dirt that surrounds them, because it is a sign of success in the
main object of their voyage. The men in a _clean_ whale ship are never
happy. When everything is filthy, and dirty, and greasy, and smoky,
and black--decks, rigging, clothes, and person--it is then that the
hearty laugh and jest and song are heard as the crew work busily, night
and day, at their rough but profitable labour.

The operations of "cutting in" and "trying out"