THE YANKEE WHALER II5 



and iron erected incongruously on the wooden deck was 

 only partly disguised by the wooden casing that flanked it. 

 Thomas had read in Jonathan's diary that as early as 1 743 

 an ingenious whaling captain had first conceived the idea 

 of taking his own try- works to sea on the deck of his ship, 

 thereby enabling him to bring back casks filled with oil 

 instead of the less profitable blubber. 



From one of the pair of huge coppers that were sunk 

 into the top of this oven Thomas was greeted by the black 

 solemn face of an African negro. 



'Dey ain't nobody kin shine a pot like dis ole Sam, Mars 

 Oakley,' he croaked. 'En you kin tell d'Ole Man dat 

 dey is my pride and joy fer de whole voyage.' 



Thomas laughed and continued his way forward where 

 the men off watch were seated on and around the windlass 

 smoking their pipes. They were the usual mixture that 

 made up the crews of the Yankee whalers of that time; for 

 this world wandering industry gathered to itself men of all 

 races, colours and creeds; brown men from the island- 

 studded Pacific, jet black men from the coasts of Africa, 

 Portuguese from the Azores, white settlers from the 

 American plains and the youngsters who had been born 

 with harpoons in their fists from the whaling ports of New 

 England and others too numerous to mention. 



'I found a weevil in my hard tack, Mr. Oakley,' sang 

 out a youth who Thomas strongly suspected had signed 

 aboard to escape the consequences of his misdemeanours 

 on the American mainland. 



'The first of a long line of 'em, Matheson, you'll 

 find,' replied Thomas as he descended the forecastle 

 hatch. 



He cast a quick critical eye around this small compart- 

 ment that housed the twenty-six forecastle hands. Much 

 the same as in Jonathan's day, he thought; bigger but no 

 more space to each man ; no wonder that the hands prefer 

 to live on deck as much as possible. The bunks, he 



