"
"All 'dention," said Fleece, again stooping over upon his tongs
in the desired position.
"Well," said Stubb, helping himself freely meanwhile;
"I shall now go back to the subject of this steak.
In the first place, how old are you, cook?"
"What dat do wid de 'teak, " said the old black, testily.
"Silence! How old are you, cook?"
"'Bout ninety, dey say," he gloomily muttered.
And have you have lived in this world hard upon one hundred
years, cook, and don't know yet how to cook a whale-steak?"
rapidly bolting another mouthful at the last word,
so that that morsel seemed a continuation of the question.
"Where were you born, cook?"
"'Hind de hatchway, in ferry-boat, goin' ober de Roanoke."
"Born in a ferry-boat! That's queer, too. But I want to know
what country you were born in, cook!"
"Didn't I say de Roanoke country?" he cried sharply.
"No, you didn't, cook; but I'll tell you what I'm coming to, cook.
You must go home and be born over again; you don't know how to cook
a whale-steak yet."
"Bress my soul, if I cook noder one," he growled, angrily,
turning round to depart.
"Come back here, cook;--here, hand me those tongs;--now take that bit of
steak there, and tell me if you think that steak cooked as it should be?
Take it, I say"--holding the tongs towards him--"take it, and taste it.
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