In the Land of the Long White Cloud

were able to pull it up alongside the ship. What came next was—if possible—worse. The men began to stick long knives in the body to cut out the fat, which was hauled straight up to the ship to be rendered into blubber. Lucas hoped the creature was really dead when the first chunks were ripped from its body and thrown on deck. Minutes later, they were wading through fat and blood. Someone opened up the whale’s head to draw out the sought-after spermaceti. Copper had told Lucas that candles and cleaning and skincare products would be made from that. Others were looking in the bowels of the whale for the even more valuable ambergris, a basic ingredient for the perfume industry. It stank bestially, and Lucas shivered when he thought of all the eau de cologne he and Gwyneira had owned on Kiward Station. He never would have thought that any part of that was obtained from the stinking innards of a gruesomely slaughtered animal.
    In the meantime, fires were being lit under giant kettles, and the stench of the whale fat being rendered filled the ship. The air was suffused with fat, which felt like it stuck to Lucas’s air passages when he inhaled. Lucas bent over the guardrail but could not escape the stench of fish and blood. He would have liked to vomit, but his stomach was long since empty. He had been thirsty earlier, but now he could not imagine anything that wouldn’t taste like blubber. He vaguely remembered that someone had explained the whaling process to him as a child and that he had found it ghastly. Now he was stuck in themiddle of a nightmare of fat and flesh, which people were throwing into reeking kettles. The kettles of rendered blubber would then be emptied into barrels. The cask maker—responsible for the filling and sealing of the barrels—called to Lucas to help him close the containers. Lucas did so, trying not to look into the kettles, where pieces of the whale were cooking.
    The other men did not exhibit the least aversion to this job. On the contrary, the stench seemed to give them an appetite; they were obviously excited about the prospect of a meal that featured fresh meat. The men regretted that they could not bring in the whale meat, but it rotted too quickly. So after removing the fat, they would leave most of the body in the sea. The cook would spend the next two days cutting meat out of the whale, having promised the men a solid meal. Lucas knew he would not touch a morsel of it.
    Finally the time came to release the remains of the whale from the ship. The creature had been largely gutted. The deck was still covered in pieces of fat, and the crew waded through slime and blood. The cooking of the blubber would still last a few hours, and Lucas realized that days might tick by before the deck was cleaned. Lucas doubted it was even possible—certainly not with the simple broom and buckets of water the men usually used to swab the deck. Presumably, they would simply wait for the next heavy storm to flood the deck and wipe away all traces of the slaughter. Lucas practically longed for such a storm. As he thought over the events of that day, panic began to well up inside him. He would probably acclimate eventually to the journey’s living conditions, to the cramped berths and the unwashed bodies, but never to days like this. Not to the killing and gutting of these massive but obviously peaceful creatures. Lucas had no idea how he was supposed to make it through the next three years.
    The fact that the
Pretty Peg
’s first whale had entered “the net” ended up working in his favor. Captain Milford decided to land at Westport and drop off their prize before setting sail again. Their stop would ensure a good price for the fresh blubber and allow them to empty the barrels for the next stage of the journey—and it would costthe men only a few days. The men rejoiced. Ralphie, a short, blond Swede, began swooning over the girls in Westport.
    “It’s a little dump but it’s being built up. Till now just whalers and seal hunters, but a couple of gold diggers on their way. S’pposed to be real mountain men there—someone said something about coal deposits. Anyway, there’s a pub and a few ready-and-willing girls. I had a redhead there once who was well worth the jack, I tell you!”
    Copper approached Lucas, who was leaning on the guardrail, exhausted and sick.
    “You thinking about the next brothel too? Or would you consider celebrating the successful hunt right here?” Copper had