When the storm had passed, a profound calm once more settled down on the face of nature, as if the elements had been utterly exhausted by the conflict. Once more the sea became like a sheet of undulating glass, in which clouds and sun and boats were reflected vividly, and once again our voyagers found themselves advancing towards the north, abreast of each other, and rowing sociably together at the rate of about four miles an hour.
When advancing under oars they went thus abreast so as to converse freely, but when proceeding under kites they kept in single file, so as to give scope for swerving, in the event of sudden change of wind, and to prevent the risk of the entanglement of lines.
“What is that?” exclaimed Benjy, pointing suddenly to an object ahead which appeared at regular intervals on the surface of the water.
“A whale, I think,” said Leo.
“A whale usually spouts on coming up, doesn’t it?” said Alf.
Chingatok uttered an unpronounceable Eskimo word which did not throw light on the subject.
“What is it, Anders?” shouted the Captain.
“What you say?” asked the interpreter from Alf’s boat, which was on the other side of the Hope.
“If these squawkin’ things would hold their noise, you’d hear better,” growled the Captain before repeating the question.
His uncourteous remark had reference to a cloud of gulls which circled round and followed the boats with remonstrative cries and astonished looks.
“It’s beast,” shouted Anders, “not knows his name in Ingliss.”
“Humph! a man with half an eye might see it is ‘beast,’” retorted the Captain in an undertone.
As he spoke, the “beast” changed its course and bore down upon them. As it drew near the Englishmen became excited, for the size of the creature seemed beyond anything they had yet seen. Strange to say, the Eskimos looked at it with their wonted gaze of calm indifference.
“It’s the great sea-serpent at last,” said Benjy, with something like awe on his countenance.
“It does look uncommon like it,” replied the Captain, with a perplexed expression on his rugged visage. “Get out the rifles, lad! It’s as well to be ready. D’ye know what it is, Chingatok?”
Again the giant uttered the unpronounceable name, while Benjy got out the fire-arms with eager haste.
“Load ’em all, Ben, load ’em all, an’ cram the Winchester to the muzzle,” said the Captain. “There’s no sayin’ what we may have to encounter; though I have heard of a gigantic bit of seaweed bein’ mistaken for the great sea-serpent before now.”
“That may be, father,” said Benjy, with increasing excitement, “but nobody ever saw a bit of seaweed swim with the activity of a gigantic eel like that. Why, I have counted its coils as they rise and sink, and I’m quite sure it’s a hundred and fifty yards long if it’s an inch.”
Those in the other boats were following the Captain’s example,—getting out and charging the fire-arms,—and truly there seemed some ground for their alarm, for the creature, which approached at a rapid rate, appeared most formidable. Yet, strange to say, the Eskimos paid little attention to it, and seemed more taken up with the excitement of the white men.
When the creature had approached to within a quarter of a mile, it diverged a little to the left, and passed the boats at the distance of a few hundred yards. Then Captain Vane burst into a sudden laugh, and shouted:—
“Grampuses!”
“What?” cried Leo.
“Grampuses!” repeated the Captain. “Why, it’s only a shoal of grampuses following each other in single file, that we’ve mistaken for one creature!”
Never before was man or boy smitten with heavier disappointment than was poor Benjy Vane on that trying occasion.
“Why, what’s wrong with you, Benjy?” asked his father, as he looked at his woeful countenance.
“To think,” said the poor boy, slowly, “that I’ve come all the way to the North Pole for this! Why I’ve believed in the great sea-serpent since ever I could think, I’ve seen pictures of it twisting its coils round three-masted ships, and goin’ over the ocean with a mane like a lion, and its head fifty feet out o’ the water! Oh! it’s too bad, I’d have given my ears to have seen the great sea-serpent.”
“There wouldn’t have been much of you left, Benjy, if you had given them.”
“Well, well,” continued the boy, not noticing his father’s remark, “it’s some comfort to know that I’ve all but seen the great sea-serpent.”
It is some comfort to us, reader, to be able to record the fact that Benjy Vane was not doomed to total disappointment on that memorable day, for, on the same evening, the voyagers had an encounter with walruses which more than made up for the previous misfortune.
It happened thus:—
The three boats were proceeding abreast, slowly but steadily over the still calm sea, when their attention was attracted by a sudden and tremendous splash or upheaval of water, just off what the Captain styled his “port bow.” At the same moment the head of a walrus appeared on the surface like a gigantic black bladder. It seemed to be as large as the head of a small elephant, and its ivory tusks were not less than two feet long. There was a square bluntness about the creature’s head, and a savage look about its little bloodshot eyes, which gave to it a very hideous aspect. Its bristling moustache, each hair of which was six inches long, and as thick as a crow quill, dripped with brine, and it raised itself high out of the water, turning its head from side to side with a rapidity and litheness of action that one would not have expected in an animal so unwieldy. Evidently it was looking eagerly for something.
Catching sight of the three boats, it seemed to have found what it looked for, and made straight at them. Leo quietly got ready his Winchester repeater, a rifle which, as the reader probably knows, can discharge a dozen or more shots in rapid succession; the cartridges being contained in a case resembling a thick ram-rod under the barrel, from which they are thrust almost instantaneously into their places.
But before the creature gained the boats, a second great upheaval of water took place, and another walrus appeared. This was the real enemy of whom he had been in quest. Both were bulls of the largest and most ferocious description. No sooner did they behold each other, than, with a roar, something betwixt a bark and a bellow, they collided, and a furious fight began. The sea was churned into foam around them as they rolled, reared, spurned, and drove their tusks into each other’s skulls and shoulders.
The boats lay quietly by, their occupants looking on with interest. The Eskimos were particularly excited, but no one spoke or acted. They all seemed fascinated by the fight.
Soon one and another and another walrus-head came up out of the sea, and then it was understood that a number of cow walruses had come to witness the combat! But the human audience paid little regard to these, so much were they engrossed by the chief actors.
It might have been thought, from the position of their tusks, which are simply an enlargement and prolongation of the canine teeth, that these combatants could only strike with them in a downward direction, but this was not so. On the contrary, they turned their thick necks with so much ease and rapidity that they could strike in all directions with equal force, and numerous were the wounds inflicted on either side, as the blood-red foam soon testified.
We have said that the human spectators of the scene remained inactive, but, at the first pause, the Captain said he thought they might as well put a stop to the fight, and advised Leo to give one of them a shot.
“We’ll not be the worse for a fresh steak,” he added to Benjy, as Leo was taking aim.
The effect of the shot was very unexpected. One of the bulls was hit, but evidently not in a deadly manner, for the motion of the boat had disturbed Leo’s aim. Each combatant turned with a look of wild surprise at the interruptor, and, as not unfrequently happens in cases of interference with fights, both made a furious rush at him. At the same moment, all the cows seemed to be smitten with pugnacity, and joined in the attack. There was barely time to get ready, when the furious animals were upon them. Guns and rifles were pointed, axes and spears grasped, and oars gripped. Even the women seized each a spear, and stood on the defensive. A simultaneous volley checked the enemy for a moment, and sent one of the cows to the bottom; but with a furious bellow they charged again.
The great anxiety of the defenders was to prevent the monsters from getting close to the boats, so as to hook on to them with their tusks, which would probably have overturned them, or penetrated the inflated sides. In either case, destruction would have been inevitable, and it was only by the active use of oar, axe, and spear that this was prevented.
Twice did one of the bulls charge the Captain’s boat, and on both occasions he was met by the tremendous might of Chingatok, who planted the end of an oar on his blunt nose, and thrust him off. On each occasion, also, he received a shot from the double barrel of Benjy, who fired the first time into his open mouth, and the second time into his eye, but an angry cough from the one, and a wink from the other showed that he did not mind it much. Meantime the Captain, with the Winchester repeater, was endeavouring—but vainly, owing to the motions of the giant, and the swaying of the boat—to get a shot at the beast, while Toolooha, with an axe, was coquetting with a somewhat timid cow near the stern.
At last an opportunity offered. Captain Vane poured half a dozen balls as quick as he could fire into the head of the bull, which immediately sank.
Not less vigorously did the occupants of the other boats receive the charge. Leo, being more active than the Captain, as well as more expert with his repeater, slew his male opponent in shorter time, and with less expenditure of ammunition. Butterface, too, gained much credit by the prompt manner in which he split the skull of one animal with an axe. Even Oblooria, the timid, rose to the occasion, and displayed unlooked-for heroism. With a barbed seal-spear she stood up and invited a baby walrus to come on—by looks, not by words. The baby accepted the invitation—perhaps, being a pugnacious baby, it was coming on at any rate—and Oblooria gave it a vigorous dab on the nose. It resented the insult by shaking its head fiercely, and endeavouring to back off, but the barb had sunk into the wound and held on. Oblooria also held on. Oolichuk, having just driven off a cow walrus, happened to observe the situation, and held on to Oblooria. The baby walrus was secured, and, almost as soon as the old bull was slain, had a line attached to it, and was made fast to the stern.
“Well done, little girl!” exclaimed Oolichuk in admiration, “you’re almost as good as a man.”
Among civilised people this might have been deemed a doubtful compliment, but it was not so in Eskimo-land. The little maid was evidently much pleased, and the title of the Timid One, which Oolichuk was wont to give her when in a specially endearing frame of mind, was changed for the Brave One from that day. In a few more minutes the last charge of the enemy was repulsed, and those of them that remained alive dived back to that native home into which the slain had already sunk.
Thus ended that notable fight with walruses.
After consummating the victory with three cheers and congratulating each other, the conquerors proceeded to examine into the extent of damage received. It was found that, beyond a few scratches, the Faith and the Hope had escaped scathless, but the Charity had suffered considerably. Besides a bad rip in the upper part of the gunwale, a small hole had been poked in her side below water, and her air-chamber was filling rapidly.
“Come here, quick, uncle,” cried Alf, in consternation, when he discovered this.
To his surprise the Captain was not so much alarmed as he had expected.
“It won’t sink you, Alf, so keep your mind easy,” he said, while examining the injury. “You see I took care to have the boats made in compartments. It will only make you go lop-sided like a lame duck till I can repair the damage.”
“Repair it, uncle! how can—”
“Never mind just now, hand out a blanket, quick; I’ll explain after; we must undergird her and keep out as much water as we can.”
This operation was soon accomplished. The blanket was passed under the boat and made fast. By pressing against the injured part it checked the inflow of water. Then the cargo was shifted, and part of it was transferred to the other boats, and soon they were advancing as pleasantly, though not as quickly as before, while the Captain explained that he had brought a solution of gutta-percha for the express purpose of repairing damages to the boats, but that it was impossible to use it until they could disembark either on land or on an iceberg.
“We’ll come to another berg ere long, no doubt, shan’t we, Chingatok?” he asked.
The Eskimo shook his head and said he thought not, but there was a small rocky islet not far from where they were, though it lay somewhat out of their course.
On hearing this the Captain changed his course immediately, and rowed in the direction pointed out.
“There’s wind enough up there, Benjy,” remarked his father, looking up to the sky, where the higher clouds were seen rapidly passing the lower strata to the northward, “but how to get the kites set up in a dead calm is more than I can tell.”
“There is a way out of the difficulty, father,” said Benjy, pointing behind them.
He referred to a slight breeze which was ruffling the sea into what are called cat’s paws far astern.
“Right boy, right. Prepare to hoist your tops’ls, lads,” shouted the Captain.
In a few minutes the kites were expanded and the tow-lines attached. When the light breeze came up they all soared, heavily, it is true, but majestically, into the sky. Soon reaching the upper regions, they caught the steady breeze there, and towed the boats along at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour.
In two hours they sighted the islet which Chingatok had mentioned, and, soon afterwards, had landed and taken possession of it, in the usual manner, under the name of Refuge Island.
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