And now came the most disagreeable part of a whaleman's duties—the cutting in and trying out. The first consists in removing the blubber from the body of the whale, cutting off the head and bailing out the spermaceti; and the next in rendering out the oil in the try-kettles. Lucas said that, as the day was far spent, the work ought not to be commenced until the next morning. The crew could then have a good night's sleep after their hard work in the boats, and be fresh and ready for the laborious duties before them; but Captain Barclay thought differently. He never cared for the comfort of his men, so he ordered them to begin at once.
How long it took to do the work Frank never knew, for he was too busy and too completely tired out to keep track of the days. The crew was so small that every man was required to handle the blubber as it was hauled aboard by the tackles; and when that was all stowed, and the carcass cut adrift, the watches were lengthened into six (they were often nearer eight) hours each, and the trying out began. Frank did not wonder that the men grew quarrelsome, and that more than one of them had to be driven to his work with a rope's end, being compelled, as they were, to work almost twenty hours out of the twenty-four. He thought often of what he had read concerning the fiendish ingenuity displayed by the Chinese in inventing modes of torture for those who disobey their laws, and told himself that some of them must have served their time in a whale-ship, and there learned by experience the misery to which a person is subjected when deprived of sleep. Frank would not have resented a blow himself now, he was too weak and dispirited; but he would have given all he ever hoped to possess, if he could have lain down in all the oil and dirt of the blubber-room, and had a good sound nap. The work was made harder by the captain's great desire to fill up the hold as soon as possible. He kept the mast-head manned all day by some of the crew who ought to have been allowed to go below to rest, and swore at them roundly because they did not raise another whale; although it is hard to tell what good it would have done if they had discovered a school of them, for in their exhausted condition they never could have endured a lengthened struggle with one. Frank often thought, after it was all over, that the only thing that sustained him during that week, was the sweet, sound sleep he had every time he acted as lookout. Seated on the royal yard, a hundred and more feet in the air, with his back against the stay and a rope passed about his waist to keep him from falling off, he would slumber like a log, leaving the whales, if there were any, to spout in peace. The rest of the crew being equally sleepy and careless, no more whales were raised, and Frank was glad of it.
"I can't stand this, Mr. Gale," said Frank one day, when the third officer came into the blubber-room where he was at work, "and I won't."
"You won't?"
"No, sir. I have never done any soldiering since I have been aboard here, but I shall do it hereafter."
"Do you know that you are talking to the third mate of this ship?" demanded Mr. Gale, who seemed surprised at Frank's strong language.
"I do, sir, and I am not afraid to speak to you more plainly still."
"Why ain't you?"
"Because I know that you will neither get angry at what I say nor repeat it."