“About fifteen fathoms, sir.”
“Oh, but isn’t that too short? Suppose the walrus comes to the end of the line after being harpooned. It would pull the boat under.”
“No, sir,” said the man, smiling, “because then we should cut the line.”
“But that would be a pity. Why not have it longer?”
“Because it would only be in the way, sir. A walrus seldom takes out fifteen fathoms when it dives after being struck.”
“How’s that?”
“Before it has run out that much it has to come up again to breathe.”
“I see. But suppose it swims away along the surface?”
“Ah! you’ll see then, sir,” said Johannes, smiling, “if I am lucky enough to harpoon one.”
Steve was silent for the time as, in obedience to the captain’s orders, the men rowed gently toward a huge bull which lay on the ice, displaying a magnificent pair of tusks. But suddenly something took the boy’s attention, and he seized the Norseman’s arm.