It was a
weary, unsatisfactory process, wasting a great deal of the
substance being baled out; but no other way was apparently
possible. The grease blew about, drenching most of us engaged in
an altogether unpleasant fashion, while, to mend matters, the old
barky began to roll and tumble about in an aimless, drunken sort
of way, the result of a new cross swell rolling up from the
south-westward. As the stuff was gained, it was poured into
large tanks in the blubber-room, the quantity being too great to
be held by the try-pots at once. Twenty-five barrels of this
clear, wax-like substance were baled from that case; and when at
last it was lowered a little, and cut away from its supports, it
was impossible to help thinking that much was still remaining
within which we, with such rude means, were unable to save. Then
came the task of cutting up the junk. Layer after layer, eight
to ten inches thick, was sliced off, cut into suitable pieces,
and passed into the tanks. So full was the matter of spermaceti
that one could take a piece as large as one's head in the hands,
and squeeze it like a sponge, expressing the spermaceti in
showers, until nothing remained but a tiny ball of fibre.
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