"What's the matter with your nose, there?" said Stubb. "Broke it?"
"I wish it was broken, or that I didn't have any nose at all!"
answered the Guernsey-man, who did not seem to relish the job
he was at very much. "But what are you holding yours for?"
"Oh, nothing! It's a wax nose; I have to hold it on.
Fine day, ain't it? Air rather gardenny, I should say;
throw us a bunch of posies, will ye, Bouton-de-Rose?"
"What in the devil's name do you want here?" roared the Guernseyman,
flying into a sudden passion.
"Oh! keep cool--cool? yes, that's the word! why don't you
pack those whales in ice while you're working at 'em?
But joking aside, though; do you know, Rose-bud, that it's
all nonsense trying to get any oil out of such whales?
As for that dried up one, there, he hasn't a gill in
his whole carcase."
"I know that well enough; but, d'ye see, the Captain here won't believe
it; this is his first voyage; he was a Cologne manufacturer before.
But come aboard, and mayhap he'll believe you, if he won't me;
and so I'll get out of this dirty scrape."
"Anything to oblige ye, my sweet and pleasant fellow,"
rejoined Stubb, and with that he soon mounted to the deck.
There a queer scene presented itself.
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