Little was said, but we all realized
that unless this job was got over before what was brooding burst
upon us, we should certainly lose some portion of our hard-won
whale. Still, our utmost possible was all we could do; and when
at daylight the head was hauled alongside for cutting up, the
imminent possibility of losing it, though grievous to think of,
worried nobody, for all had done their best. The gale had
commenced in business-like fashion, but the sea was horrible. It
was almost impossible to keep one's footing on the stage. At
times the whole mass of the head would be sucked down by the lee
roll of the ship, and go right under her keel, the fluke-chain
which held it grinding and straining as if it would tear the bows
out of her. Then when she rolled back again the head would
rebound to the surface right away from the ship, where we could
not reach it to cut. Once or twice it bounced up beneath our
feet, striking the stage and lifting it with its living load
several inches, letting it fall again with a jerk that made us
all cling for dear life to our precarious perch.
In spite of these capers, we managed to get the junk off the
head. It was a tremendous lift for us; I hardly think we had
ever raised such a weight before.
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