By that time a warning cry was heard from Mr Lowe’s boat, and the party with the captain gazed in dismay at the fierce-looking herd charging down.
“Quick! oars!” cried the captain, and the men scrambled into their places with a scared look on their faces.
“It’s the youngling’s cries has brought them down,” said Johannes calmly.
“You know these brutes of old,” said the captain. “Will they attack us?”
“They’ll come close up, sir; but I don’t think there’s anything to mind, or I would say throw the calf overboard.”
“Yes, that might be the best thing to do.”
“But I would not yet, sir. We’ll see. These things look very big and fierce, and sometimes they can fight, but it’s mostly bully and noise.”
The rifles were ready, and the two Norsemen seized their lances, ready to repel any savage attack; while for a time the position of the party appeared to be one of extreme peril. But in this case it proved that, strong as was the desire of the animals to help and protect one of their young in trouble, it did not go far enough to make them run much risk. The Norsemen in both boats were ready to add to their take by lancing any aggressive individual; but the herd kept at a safe distance, calming down when the pig-like creature in the boat was quiet, and bursting out into furious snortings and shows of attack whenever the unhappy little creature remembered its trouble and burst forth into a wail.
“There!” cried Johannes at last; “there is no danger. A few splashes of the oar will keep them off. Shall we harpoon another?”
“No,” said the captain; “we will be content with what is done. We have the bear to get as well, so there is plenty of work.”