So in this instance--seeing the danger that his rival might win the game--the American harpooner, with a prodigious effort, darted his iron clear over the rival boat and deep into the mass of blubber.
[Illustration: "TAKING IT IN HIS JAWS"] What a whale will do when struck no man can tell before the event.

The boat-load of puffing, perspiring men who have pulled at full speed up to the monster may suddenly find themselves confronted with a furious, vindictive, aggressive beast weighing eighty tons, and bent on grinding their boat and themselves to powder; or he may simply turn tail and run.
Sometimes he sounds, going down, down, down, until all the line in the boat is exhausted, and all that other boats can bend on is gone too.

Then the end is thrown over with a drag, and his reappearance awaited.
Sometimes he dashes off over the surface of the water at a speed of fifteen knots an hour, towing the boat, while the crew hope that their "Nantucket sleigh-ride" will end before they lose the ship for good.

But once fast, the whalemen try to pull close alongside the monster.

Then the mate takes the long, keen lance and plunges it deep into the great shuddering carcass, "churning" it up and down and seeking to pierce the heart or lungs.