“Yes, that is a steamer’s whistle undoubtedly, and perhaps not very distant.”
“She can’t be very far away, sir. If she were, we could not have heard her at all.”
The men were cheery now, and pulled with a steady stroke, making but little way on account of the heavy load they were towing; but the fact of their hearing the vessel, of which there was no doubt now, inspirited them.
“Stop!” said the captain suddenly. “Now, Steve, hail!”
As the boy sent forth as loud an ahoy as his lungs would allow there was a dull, smothered wail off astern, very near at hand, evidently, one moment, and the next sounding distant and far away.
“Hail again!” cried the captain; and this time Johannes gave forth one of his hoarse, deep roars, the sound seeming to return upon them, but there was no reply.
“Hail again, Steve,” and the boy shouted; but still without result.
Then Johannes sent forth another of his sonorous roars, and all laid on their oars and listened, when, so softly as to be almost imperceptible as the men held their breath, there came a low hail, which grew fainter and fainter and then died away.
“That was the Hvalross, I’m sure!” cried Steve excitedly, as the boat’s course was altered once more.
“Yes; and she’s hanging about to find us,” said the captain. “Cheer up, my lads. She won’t go far without trying back; she can’t be far away.”