CHAPTER 63

  The Crotch

  Out of the trunk, the branches grow; out of them, the twigs. So,

in productive subjects, grow the chapters.

  The crotch alluded to on a previous page deserves independent

mention. It is a notched stick of a peculiar form, some two feet in

length, which is perpendicularly inserted into the starboard gunwale

near the bow, for the purpose of furnishing a rest for the wooden

extremity of the harpoons, whose other naked, barbed end sloping

projects from the prow. Thereby the weapon is instantly at hand to its

hurler, who snatches it up as readily from its rest as a

backwoodsman swings his rifle from the wall. It is customary to have

two harpoons reposing in the crotch, respectively called the first and

second irons.

  But these two harpoons, each by its own cord, are both connected

with the line; the object being this: to dart them both, if

possible, one instantly after the other into the same whale; so that

if, in the coming drag, one should draw out, the other may still

retain a hold. It is a doubling of the chances. But it very often

happens that owing to the instantaneous, violent, convulsive running

of the whale upon receiving the first iron, it becomes impossible

for the harpooneer, however lightning-like in his movements, to

pitch the second iron into him. Nevertheless, as the second iron is

already connected with the line, and the line is running, hence that

weapon must, at all events, be anticipatingly tossed out of the

boat, somehow and somewhere; else the most terrible jeopardy would

involve all hands. Tumbled into the water, it accordingly is in such

cases; the spare coils of box line (mentioned in a preceding

chapter) making this feat, in most instances, prudently practicable.

But this critical act is not always unattended with the saddest and

most fatal casualties.

  Furthermore: you must know that when the second iron is thrown

overboard, it thenceforth becomes a dangling, sharp-edged terror,

skittishly curvetting about both boat and whale, entangling the lines,

or cutting them, and making a prodigious sensation in all

directions. Nor, in general, is it possible to secure it again until

the whale is fairly captured and a corpse.

  Consider, now, how it must be in the case of four boats all engaging

one unusually strong, active, and knowing whale; when owing to these

qualities in him, as well as to the thousand concurring accidents of

such an audacious enterprise, eight or ten loose second irons may be

simultaneously dangling about him. For, of course, each boat is

supplied with several harpoons to bend on to the line should the first

one be ineffectually darted without recovery. All these particulars

are faithfully narrated here, as they will not fail to elucidate

several most important however intricate passages, in scenes hereafter

to be painted.