The conversation was carried on upon the back of the whale,—where the sharks had been butchered and cut up.
“Up here!” again echoed the sailor, still showing surprise. “What matter whether it be up here or down theear, so long’s we’ve got no vessel,—neyther pot nor pan?”
“Doan care a dam fo’ neyder,” responded the ex-cook. “I’se soon show ye, Mass’ Brace, how we find vessel, big ’nuff to hold all de oil in de karkiss ob de ole cashlot, as you call him.”
“Explain, nigger, explain!”
“Sartin I do. Gib me dat axe. I soon ’splain de whole sarkumstance.”
Ben passed the axe, which he had been holding, into the hands of the Coromantee.
The latter, as he had promised, soon made his meaning clear, by setting to work upon the carcass of the cachalot, and with less than a dozen blows of the sharp-edged tool hollowing out a large cavity in the blubber.
“Now, Mass’ Brace,” cried he, when he had finished, triumphantly balancing the axe above his shoulder, “wha’ you call dat? Dar’s a lamp hold all de oil we want set blaze. You d’sire me ‘crow’ de hole any wida or deepa, I soon make ’im deep’s a draw-well an’ wide as de track ob a waggon. Wha’ say, Mass’ Brace?”
“Hurraw for you, Snowy! It be just the thing. I dar say it’s deep enough, and wide as we’ll want it. You ha got good brains, nigger,—not’ithstanding what them lubbers as they call filosaphurs say. I’m a white, an’ niver thought o’ it. This’ll do for the furness we want. Nothin’ more needed than to pour the sparmacety into it, chuck a bit o’ oakum on the top, an’ set all ablaze. Let’s do it, and cook the wittles at once.”
The cavity, which Snowball had “crowed” in the carcass of the whale was soon filled with oil taken from the case. In this was inserted with due care a quantity of the fibre, obtained by “picking” the old ropes into oakum.