"I don't think Worth feels in very good-humor to-day," continued the old man, turning to Mr. Grafton. "I'm sure I shouldn't, if he had got this whale right under my nose. But it's our turn to crow to-day, and perhaps at another time it may be his. I was mighty afraid at one time he would take all your line before we could get to you. And when I saw the strain slack up suddenly, I was more anxious than ever, for I feared you were loose from him. But it's all right as it is. Couldn't be better--and the weather is promising for taking care of him. The new ship will get her christening now, and she will work all the better for being greased. It is too late to ship the oil home, for I shall not put back to the Western Islands now." CHAPTER VII. "CUTTING IN." The necessary operations on the new ship's rigging had somewhat encroached upon the progress of other duties, connected with the whaling gear, during the few days since we left home. The cutting pendants were to be got over the masthead, not yet having been sent aloft; the falls were new and wiry; but few cutting-spades rigged or ground, and the best part of the afternoon was consumed in getting all things in readiness for cutting; and, as there was every prospect of fine weather, it was determined not to hook on until the next morning. Boat's crew-watches were set, as is common when lying under short sail, boatsteerers being in charge of the deck by turns, each with his own boat's crew, thus making three, or in large ships, four watches. This was a grand occasion for yarning in the first watch, as every one was up, looking at the leviathan alongside, swashing with every heave of the sea, and tugging at the stout fluke chain as the rise of the ship brought a strain upon it; as though still instinct with life and impatient of his bonds. "Well, Jeff," said the ebony doctor, as he stood leaning over the rail after having finished his work for the night, "how much ile you tink dat whale make?" "That whale," returned Jeff, measuring his dimensions with his eye, with a look of most profound sagacity, "that whale will stow down a hund'ed barrels, if we save him clean." "Save him clean? Save him fast enough," said the cook. "Fine weather." "Yes, 'tis now, but you don't know how long it will be so," said Old Jeff, who was in one of his "blue-lights" humors. "You don't know what the weather'll be to-morrow." "Guess it'll be good enough." "You've got no business to guess. Who shipped any such black ghost as you to guess about the weather?" "_Black_ ghost, eh! You know what the pot called the kettle, Jeff? Yah! yah! You aint more'n a half-price nigger, nohow. You wouldn't fetch more'n fifty dollars in Kentucky, if you be big. Sh' think you might be big, too; you eats 'bout six men's allowance. Look o' me, now; I don't eat nothin' hardly." "You've no business to eat anything. The cook's always 'lowed to live on the smell."