When on the fishing ground, a man is kept constantly at the mast-head on the look out for whales, and to give the notice to the men on deck of the appearance of one upon the surface—which he does by crying out "there she blows," or "there she spouts," which is responded to by the captain on deck, who inquires "where away." The direction being ascertained, one or more of the boats are lowered, manned by the respective crews of each to row out, and if necessary give chase to the whale—every boat eager to reach him first. There is much competition between the different boats to see which shall first "fasten," or get a harpoon into the whale; and this is sometimes carried to such extreme length, that the unfortunate rear boat, seeing no chance of success themselves, will throw every obstacle in the way of the other to prevent their securing the whale; and sometimes go so far even as to purposely[167] frighten the whale away—thus seriously injuring the interest of the owners as well as the whole crew. But this is not allowed in well disciplined ships; for there the officer who goes in each boat is required to guard against it. The boats pull on, and as they approach the whale they see him spouting more slowly. This is a signal that he is soon going down, and for them to hasten if they would secure him. The successful boat shoots alongside. "Peak your oar!" exclaims the officer to the harpooner—the order is obeyed. "Stand up," continues the officer; and the glistening harpoon is seen above the head of the harpooner, who instantly darts it with unerring force and aim, and it is buried deeply in the side of the gigantic creature. "Stern all," cries the master, and every man bends his whole strength to the oar, and the boat is rapidly backed from the whale's side. Now the pained whale plunges, and lashes the sea in a most terrific manner—the noise of which may be heard for miles. Suddenly he disappears, drawing the line out rapidly after him; many hundred fathoms are run out before the whale again makes his appearance on the surface, which he generally does somewhere in the vicinity, in a very much exhausted state, owing to the loss of blood, and his violent exertions to escape the harpoon by plunging furiously to the depths of the sea. He is usually absent about the space of thirty minutes before he rises again to the surface, and then the boat is run rapidly up to him, and the headsman buries his lance in the vitals of the trembling monster. He is now made desperately furious,—the lance is again driven into his side; his motions become[168] wild and irregular; and, after what is called the mortal flurry, he turns over on his side, and dies. The Leviathan of the deep is conquered! He is now towed to the ship, and there firmly secured by ropes. Then comes the process of what whalemen call "Cutting in," which is the separating and securing the fat or blubber of the whale. It is effected in the following manner: