The men in a _clean_ whale ship are never happy.

When everything is filthy, and dirty, and greasy, and smoky, and black--decks, rigging, clothes, and person--it is then that the hearty laugh and jest and song are heard as the crew work busily, night and day, at their rough but profitable labour.
The operations of "cutting in" and "trying out" were matters of great interest to me the first time I saw them.
After having towed our whale to the ship, cutting in was immediately begun.

First, the carcass was secured near the head and tail with chains, and made fast to the ship; then the great blocks and ropes fastened to the main and fore mast for hoisting in the blubber were brought into play.

When all was ready, the captain and the two mates with Tom Lokins got upon the whale's body, with long-handled sharp spades or digging-knives.

With these they fell to work cutting off the blubber.
I was stationed at one of the hoisting ropes, and while we were waiting for the signal to "hoist away", I peeped over the side, and for the first time had a good look at the great fish.