Keeney. No, and I ain't agoin' to till this ship is full of ile.
Joe. You can't go no further no'the with the ice before ye.
Keeney. The ice is breaking up.
Joe [after a slight pause, during which the others mumble angrily to one another]. The grub we're gittin' now is rotten.
Keeney. It's good enough fur ye. Better men than ye are have eaten worse.
[There is a chorus of angry exclamations from the crowd.]
Joe [encouraged by this support]. We ain't agoin' to work no more less you puts back for home.
Keeney [fiercely]. You ain't, ain't you?
Joe. No; and the law courts'll say we was right.
Keeney. To hell with your law courts! We're at sea now and I'm the law on this ship! [Edging up toward the harpooner.] And every mother's son of you what don't obey orders goes in irons.