The trying-out started on the head-matter, in order to keep the oil from contamination, and to preserve its light color. Meanwhile there were two men in the blubber room with knife and spade to cut from the blubber the pieces of flesh that had come off with it. They then cut the blanket strips into smaller pieces, roughly rectangular. These “horse-pieces,” as they are called, were cut all the way across the blanket, and about six or eight inches wide; so that, in this case, they were strips, about three feet long and eight inches wide. They are sometimes not so long. In cutting the horse-pieces, the men generally stood on the strip in their bare feet, and cut it with a sharp spade held vertically. I knew how slippery those strips of blubber could be, and I trembled for fear that, on that unstable footing, the sharp spade might fall on the wrong spot and cut off a few of those wriggling toes, or even a foot. It would be easy. The spade was sharp and heavy, and a man might cut off his toes before he knew it; but I saw no such accident, either then or later, although I believe it was not uncommon. The men did not seem to be afraid of accidents.

When the blubber had been cut this way, the “horse-pieces” were tossed on deck and taken to the mincers. The mincers were men—usually two—who wielded heavy, two-handled knives about two feet long, with a handle at each end; the knives being a sort of a cross between a butcher’s cleaver and a carpenter’s draw-knife, or more nearly, perhaps, a cleaver with a handle at each end. The mincers work against the end of a heavy block, or horse, at the height of their belts—if they happen to have belts—and chop and slice the flesh side of the blubber, with a peculiar rolling motion of the heavy knife. The mincer used both hands to hold his mincing-knife, while a second man held the horse-piece on the block. The flesh side of the blubber is cut in this way into thin strips, resembling strips of bacon, leaving the outside, or black skin, intact. These are called “bible-leaves,” and are ready for the try-pots.

There was a pair of try-pots set in brickwork just abaft the foremast, with room to work for the men tending them. These men stand forward of the try-works. As I have said before, there was a roof, or house, over them, as is usually, but not always, the case. The fire-space underneath was separated from the deck by a low platform which projected some distance beyond the fire-doors, and this platform had under it a tank, which was always filled with water when the fire was burning, to protect the deck. The fire-doors were in the forward side of the try-works. They were of iron, and could be slid back or swung upward. Two—three, if there are three try-pots—smokestacks of copper, and of rectangular section, projected a little way above the roof.

I have given these details of the arrangements because I know that there are now com­par­a­tively few people who are familiar with them; in fact, there are none except whalemen and outfitters, and men and boys who have been in the habit of running over the ships at will. Even the boys of that last class, if there are still any such, are probably not as familiar with the arrangements as they ought to be, although they may think they are. I had seen whalers since I could remember, and had rambled over them, and played on them and beside them throughout my boyhood, but I had never given a thought to the question whether the fire was fed from aft or from forward of the try-works. I suppose I should have said that the doors opened aft. Somehow, that seemed the natural way—for the men to face the bows as they work. It is not, as it happens. Just aft of the try-works was the bench, with a vise and other “fixins,” where repairs were made on the harpoons and lances and pretty nearly every­thing else.

Remembering my mistakes—some of them—I am not inclined to be so severe upon the men of Atlantic City as some whalemen are. A whaleship went ashore upon those hospitable sands, and they took her as she was, high and dry on the beach, and they repaired her, and fitted her completely, as they supposed, and used her as one more exhibition—one more attraction for the crowds which throng the Boardwalk. I can imagine them; I can even see them coming in crowds, at ten or fifteen cents a head, to go over the whaler—the “spouter,” as I have no doubt they called her, although I rarely heard the term used among whalemen. But, on one day of ill-fortune, there chanced to be a whaleman in that crowd. He looked critically over the old ship, saying nothing; and he found that they had made the try-works face the wrong way, putting the fire-doors aft instead of in the forward side. He smiled, I do not doubt, but still he said nothing—in Atlantic City. When he got home, however, it was a different thing, and the matter was spread abroad in New Bedford, and it got into the papers, which had no end of fun with the poor, ignorant Atlantic Citizens. Occasionally it crops out yet in the “Mercury” or the “Standard.” They simply cannot resist giving the natives of New Jersey a poke now and then.

I can hardly expect readers of this rambling narrative to be better versed in such matters than those men of Atlantic City. In order that they may not be in a state of chaotic ignorance in regard to them, I have dwelt on the details to a degree which most whalemen would think unnecessary and an insult to their intelligence. They would take all these things for granted.

The mates and boatsteerers officiate at the try-pots, and handle the long-handled, long-shanked devil-forks, or the skimmers, or the copper dippers. They began with the head-matter, for reasons which I have given. When this was cooked enough, it was ladled out of the try-pots with the long-handled copper dippers that I have mentioned, and into the copper cooling-tank which stood beside the try-pots. From the cooling-tank the oil overflows into a huge iron pot. From this, in turn, it is again dipped, and put into casks, or barrels, marked “Head” or “Case” or “Junk.”

I did not see this last operation at this time, however. My duties lay mostly in the cabin and the steerage, with the officers and boatsteerers, and I had to go when I was called, or before if I had sense enough for it. I was expected to be on hand at meal times, or a little before, and help the steward. It was now about supper-time, and I was so interested in the process of trying-out that the steward had to send for me, or come for me, which did not improve his temper. I am afraid that I skimped my duties much of the time, but a boy of fifteen has no great sense of responsibility. Captain Nelson was indulgent to me up to a certain point, but he had to give me a wigging more than once. I deserved the wigging, and I knew it well, and was always respectful and very repentant. The captain usually ended by laughing and bidding me mind my eye, which I was quite willing to do, and I always promised faithfully that I would. And then there would come the next time, which was generally due to my great interest in something which I was seeing for the first time, perhaps. I have no doubt that that fact was taken into account in Captain Nelson’s distribution of justice. He was a just man.

It was dark when I got back on deck. Trying-out goes on steadily, day and night, until it is done. A trying-out watch is trying in more senses than one. Each watch consists of half the crew, who are on duty for a longer time on end than usual. It is hard labor, and in a long siege of trying-out, the men get so tired and dazed and sleepy that they move in a drowse, and they will fall asleep anywhere. It is in this state that the man will nap standing at the wheel, and the man on the royal yard also, the thin stay in the hollow of his shoulders, and an arm hooked in the running rigging.

They had finished the head-matter, and had it already ladled into casks lashed along the rail. There it would stay for a day or two until it was cool enough to stow below. They had been working on the blubber for some little time, and the smoke coming from the stacks was thick and black, except when red flames belched from them, mixed with the smoke. Sometimes, when oil got into the fire, perhaps from the boiling over of the pots, the stacks sent broad sheets of flame six or eight feet into the air. These cast a ruddy glare over every­thing, throwing the illuminated portions of the masts and sails and rigging into high relief, and making bloody reflections from the glistening faces and bare arms of the men, and from the crests of breaking seas. Altogether it was a scene of weirdness, but it was evil-smelling, and the whole thing smacked of evil, the men looking like devils feeding the fire to torture some poor lost soul.