I was standing close to the starboard gangway early that morning, looking over the side into the calm water, for there was not a breath of wind, and talking to the first mate, who was a gruff, surly man, but a good officer, and kind enough in his way when everything went smooth with him.

But things don't go very smooth generally in whaling life, so the mate was oftener gruff than sweet.
"Bob Ledbury," said he, "have you got your cutting-in gear in order?
I've got a notion that we'll 'raise the oil' this day." "All right, sir," said I; "you might shave yourself with the blubber-spades.

That was a good fish we got last, sir, wasn't it ?" "Pretty good, though I've seen bigger." "He gave us a deal of trouble too," said I.
"Not so much as I've seen others give," said he.

"When I was fishing in the Greenland Seas we made fast to a whale that cost us I don't know how many hundred dollars." (You must know the first mate was a Yankee, and he reckoned everything in dollars.) "How was that, sir ?" asked I.
"Well, it was something in this fashion.

We were floating about in the North Atlantic one calm, hot day, just something like this, only it was the afternoon, not the morning.