Marr appeared at the quarter-deck rail and sent down a huge jug of whisky, which the crew shared with boisterous shouts. The skipper watched them, then shrugged his slight shoulders, glanced at the ice to the northward, and disappeared as Stirling gave the order to clear decks and cut the bone from the upper jaw.
This baleen, as it was called, had to be split from a white gristle by blubber spades and knives. The bone ran from sixteen feet in length down to little whiskers, and its value was all of five dollars a pound.
The last of the slabs was taken below to be stored in the forehold, and the great jaw, after the cook had removed a barrel of muck tuck, was hoisted overboard. This sank to the bottom of the Bering. The decks were then swabbed and squeegeed, and the watch on duty finished cleaning up. It was midnight before Stirling turned toward Whitehouse and reported that all was clear.
The cockney mate climbed from the dark poop, took a turn about the ship, ran his fingers over the planks and pinrails, and peered down the forehold.
Then he came to Stirling and asked: "’Ow much do you think that ’ead of bone will weigh?"
"All of twenty-two hundred pounds. It’s as big as I ever cut in."
Whitehouse glanced aft. "The old man wasn’t figurin’ on that," he said, reflectively. "I think it was out of ’is calculations. ’E’s just confided in me—not a watch below—that ’e is up North for trade stuff. Also, ’e said there’s a firm of Dundee & Grimsby owners interested in the voyage. I thought all along ’e owned the ship."
Stirling studied the face of the mate in an endeavour to ascertain if he were speaking the truth. Whitehouse was far from stable in his statements.
"That’s news," said Stirling. "I thought you, or somebody else, told me he was the sole owner."
"Maybe! It settles a point or two I was trying to fathom."
Stirling glanced at the poop, and in fancy he thought a figure appeared there. He stepped to one side of the galley house and stared aft. A shadow moved against the canvas screen, a light shot skyward, then was blotted out as the companion closed.
"Marr?" he asked, striding over to Whitehouse.
The mate grinned and reached in his pocket for a plug of tobacco. "Sure," he said. "W’o else could hit be? The old man is very irregular in ’is ’abits. Never saw any one like ’im. You never know where ’e is. All the time walking around."