Chapter 96.00: CHAPTER 94. A Squeeze of the Hand.

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CHAPTER 94. A Squeeze of the Hand.
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That whale of Stubb’s, so dearly purchased, was duly brought to the
Pequod’s side, where all those cutting and hoisting operations previously
detailed, were regularly gone through, even to the baling of the
Heidelburgh Tun, or Case.

While some were occupied with this latter duty, others were employed in
dragging away the larger tubs, so soon as filled with the sperm; and when
the proper time arrived, this same sperm was carefully manipulated ere
going to the try-works, of which anon.

It had cooled and crystallized to such a degree, that when, with several
others, I sat down before a large Constantine’s bath of it, I found it
strangely concreted into lumps, here and there rolling about in the liquid
part. It was our business to squeeze these lumps back into fluid. A sweet
and unctuous duty! No wonder that in old times this sperm was such a
favourite cosmetic. Such a clearer! Such a sweetener! Such a softener!
Such a delicious molifier! After having my hands in it for only a few
minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine
and spiralise.

As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter
exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under
indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands among
those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost within
the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their
opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that
uncontaminated aroma,—literally and truly, like the smell of spring
violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow;
I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I
washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old
Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat
of anger; while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all
ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.

Squeeze! Squeeze! Squeeze! All the morning long; I squeezed that sperm
till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange
sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my
co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules.
Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this
avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and
looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say,—Oh! My
dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or
know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all
round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze
ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.

Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by
many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases
man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable
felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in
the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fireside, the
country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case
eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of
angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti.

Now, while discoursing of sperm, it behooves to speak of other things akin
to it, in the business of preparing the sperm whale for the try-works.

First comes white-horse, so called, which is obtained from the tapering
part of the fish, and also from the thicker portions of his flukes. It is
tough with congealed tendons—a wad of muscle—but still
contains some oil. After being severed from the whale, the white-horse is
first cut into portable oblongs ere going to the mincer. They look much
like blocks of Berkshire marble.

Plum-pudding is the term bestowed upon certain fragmentary parts of the
whale’s flesh, here and there adhering to the blanket of blubber, and
often participating to a considerable degree in its unctuousness. It is a
most refreshing, convivial, beautiful object to behold. As its name
imports, it is of an exceedingly rich, mottled tint, with a bestreaked
snowy and golden ground, dotted with spots of the deepest crimson and
purple. It is plums of rubies, in pictures of citron. Spite of reason, it
is hard to keep yourself from eating it. I confess, that once I stole
behind the foremast to try it. It tasted something as I should conceive a
royal cutlet from the thigh of Louis le Gros might have tasted, supposing
him to have been killed the first day after the venison season, and that
particular venison season contemporary with an unusually fine vintage of
the vineyards of Champagne.

There is another substance, and a very singular one, which turns up in the
course of this business, but which I feel it to be very puzzling
adequately to describe. It is called slobgollion; an appellation original
with the whalemen, and even so is the nature of the substance. It is an
ineffably oozy, stringy affair, most frequently found in the tubs of
sperm, after a prolonged squeezing, and subsequent decanting. I hold it to
be the wondrously thin, ruptured membranes of the case, coalescing.

Gurry, so called, is a term properly belonging to right whalemen, but
sometimes incidentally used by the sperm fishermen. It designates the
dark, glutinous substance which is scraped off the back of the Greenland
or right whale, and much of which covers the decks of those inferior souls
who hunt that ignoble Leviathan.

Nippers. Strictly this word is not indigenous to the whale’s vocabulary.
But as applied by whalemen, it becomes so. A whaleman’s nipper is a short
firm strip of tendinous stuff cut from the tapering part of Leviathan’s
tail: it averages an inch in thickness, and for the rest, is about the
size of the iron part of a hoe. Edgewise moved along the oily deck, it
operates like a leathern squilgee; and by nameless blandishments, as of
magic, allures along with it all impurities.

But to learn all about these recondite matters, your best way is at once
to descend into the blubber-room, and have a long talk with its inmates.
This place has previously been mentioned as the receptacle for the
blanket-pieces, when stript and hoisted from the whale. When the proper
time arrives for cutting up its contents, this apartment is a scene of
terror to all tyros, especially by night. On one side, lit by a dull
lantern, a space has been left clear for the workmen. They generally go in
pairs,—a pike-and-gaffman and a spade-man. The whaling-pike is
similar to a frigate’s boarding-weapon of the same name. The gaff is
something like a boat-hook. With his gaff, the gaffman hooks on to a sheet
of blubber, and strives to hold it from slipping, as the ship pitches and
lurches about. Meanwhile, the spade-man stands on the sheet itself,
perpendicularly chopping it into the portable horse-pieces. This spade is
sharp as hone can make it; the spademan’s feet are shoeless; the thing he
stands on will sometimes irresistibly slide away from him, like a sledge.
If he cuts off one of his own toes, or one of his assistants’, would you
be very much astonished? Toes are scarce among veteran blubber-room men.