I was also aware that being a green hand at whaling, my own
lay would not be very large; but considering that I was used
to the sea, could steer a ship, splice a rope, and all that,
I made no doubt that from all I had heard I should be offered
at least the 275th lay--that is, the 275th part of the clear net
proceeds of the voyage, whatever that might eventually amount to.
And though the 275th lay was what they call a rather long lay,
yet it was better than nothing; and if we had a lucky voyage,
might pretty nearly pay for the clothing I would wear out on it,
not to speak of my three years' beef and board, for which I
would not have to pay one stiver.
It might be thought that this was a poor way to accumulate
a princely fortune--and so it was, a very poor way indeed.
But I am one of those that never take on about princely fortunes,
and am quite content if the world is ready to board and lodge me, while I
am putting up at this grim sign of the Thunder Cloud. Upon the whole,
I thought that the 275th lay would be about the fair thing,
but would not have been surprised had I been offered the 200th,
considering I was of a broad-shouldered make.
But one thing, nevertheless, that made me a little distrustful about
receiving a generous share of the profits was this: Ashore, I had heard
something of both Captain Peleg and his unaccountable old crony Bildad;
how that they being the principal proprietors of the Pequod,
therefore the other and more inconsiderable and scattered owners,
left nearly the whole management of the ship's affairs to these two.
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