When he came up to breathe, which he did out
of the top of his head, he showed us that, instead of teeth, he
had a narrow fringe of baleen (whalebone) all around his upper
jaws, although "I kaint see whyfor, kase he lib on all sort er
fish, s'long's dey ain't too big. I serpose w'en he kaint get
nary fish he do de same ez de 'bowhead'--go er siftin eout dem
little tings we calls whale-feed wiv dat ar' rangement he carry
in his mouf." "But why don't we harpoon him?" I asked. Goliath
turned on me a pitying look, as he replied, "Sonny, ef yew wuz
ter go on stick iron inter dat ar fish, yew'd fink de hole bottom
fell eout kerblunk. W'en I uz young 'n foolish, a finback range
'longside me one day, off de Seychelles. I just done gone miss'
a spam whale, and I was kiender mad,--muss ha' bin. Wall, I let
him hab it blam 'tween de ribs. If I lib ten tousan year, ain't
gwine ter fergit dat ar. Wa'nt no time ter spit, tell ye;
eberybody hang ober de side ob de boat. Wiz--poof!--de line all
gone. Clar to glory, I neber see it go. Ef it hab ketch
anywhar, nobody eber see US too. Fus, I t'ought I jump ober de
side--neber face de skipper any mo'. But he uz er good ole man,
en he only say, 'Don't be sech blame jackass any more.
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