“Quick, then,” said the Norseman good-humouredly.
“I want to know how near you have to get before you throw.”
“We don’t throw the harpoon at all if we can help it,” replied Johannes, “but get close enough to thrust it into the seal, give it a twist to entangle it in the tough hide, and draw out the shaft.”
“Oh, look!” said Steve in a disappointed tone; for, when they were about a hundred yards away, the big bull raised his head, stared at them, and then shuffled off the block on which he lay, gave two or three heavy flops, and slid down softly into the water.
“Never mind, sir,” said Johannes calmly; “there is another yonder with finer tusks—that one to the left; and you can steer the boat so that it will be out of sight till we are quite close.”
The captain’s face, which had looked gloomy, brightened, and he followed out the instructions given; while Skene, after twice over being on the point of barking loudly at the huge beasts scattered about amongst the icefloes, appeared as if he grasped the position and the meaning of the talking-to he had received, and stood there with his feet upon one of the thwarts well out of the way of the harpooner and his line, and watched the walrus with his ears quivering and playing about, taking evidently as much interest in the proceedings as his master.
This time the boat passed several of the heavy animals, which stared at them stupidly, but did not attempt to stir, so that there would have been no difficulty twice over in striking and making fast; but the huge fellow with the grand tusks was the one they aimed for, the walrus they passed having shorter or broken teeth.
“How is it so many have their teeth damaged?” whispered Steve.
“No dentists up here to attend to them,” said the doctor, who had heard the query.
“Some break them fighting,” said Johannes seriously, for he did not comprehend Mr Handscombe’s allusion; “but very often they snap off the points through digging, them into the ice.”