“A herd of seals,” answered Grim, quietly; “it was funny I didn’t think o’ them. Here we have got our fuel.”
In the same moment a cold nose was stuck right into Magnus’ face and he tumbled backward, scarcely knowing how to return the unexpected caress.
“Draw yer knives, lads,” shouted Grim to the men, “a herd of seals is a comin’ right upon ye.”
The seals were now in full flight, rolling, tumbling, and pushing themselves on over the smooth sand. They instinctively knew, even in the dark, the way to the water, and they thus came plump down upon the shipwrecked men, who had arisen in response to Grim’s call and were ready to give them a warm reception. In the storm and the fright of the sudden attack the keen scent of the animals scarcely served them at all. They rushed right down upon their enemies, and within a few minutes fully a dozen of them lay gasping and bleeding upon the beach. The rest plunged into the surf, where their plaintive bark was heard as they battled with the raging sea.
Grim and Magnus in the meanwhile pushed on, groping their way over the slippery bowlders, and keeping close together so as to help each other in case of accident. But the farther they climbed the steeper grew the rock, and as far as they could ascertain by their sense of touch there was no sign of vegetation.
“Now look sharp, lad,” cried Grim, warningly.
“Look sharp!” repeated Magnus, “how am I to look sharp when it is as dark as pitch about me?”
“Right ye be, lad, right ye be,” the other retorted; “ye be a smart chap and a peart one. But don’t ye lay hold o’ nothin’ here before ye know it is rock. Thar be thousands o’ birds here on the lee’ard side when thar be a storm from the north; and ef ye mistook a gull or a cormorant fer somethin’ solid ye might tumble down and break yer precious neck. Mark ye my word, chap, thar will be a mighty lively hubbub here in a couple o’ minutes.”
Grim had hardly uttered this prophecy when Magnus felt something feathery under his touch, and in the same instant there came a piercing scream and a powerful wing dealt him a blow across the bridge of his nose. Immediately there commenced a wild chorus of screams and chattering protest, as if the more sober-minded birds were deprecating this senseless uproar. Magnus thought, too, that he heard his name called from below, but the deafening thunder of the surf and the noise of the birds drowned all other sounds, and he concluded that he had been deceived. It was a terrible sensation, all these invisible wings flapping about him in the dark; unseen bodies precipitated against him and tumbling blindly about him with a murderous tumult from a thousand discordant voices. He raised his elbows above his head to protect himself from the blind assaults and the perpetual beating of wings. It hardly occurred to him to assume the offensive until he heard Grim’s voice shouting to him: