“A whale usually spouts on coming up, doesn’t it?” said Alf.
Chingatok uttered an unpronounceable Eskimo word which did not throw light on the subject.
“What is it, Anders?” shouted the Captain.
“What you say?” asked the interpreter from Alf’s boat, which was on the other side of the Hope.
“If these squawkin’ things would hold their noise, you’d hear better,” growled the Captain before repeating the question.
His uncourteous remark had reference to a cloud of gulls which circled round and followed the boats with remonstrative cries and astonished looks.
“It’s beast,” shouted Anders, “not knows his name in Ingliss.”
“Humph! a man with half an eye might see it is ‘beast,’” retorted the Captain in an undertone.
As he spoke, the “beast” changed its course and bore down upon them. As it drew near the Englishmen became excited, for the size of the creature seemed beyond anything they had yet seen. Strange to say, the Eskimos looked at it with their wonted gaze of calm indifference.
“It’s the great sea-serpent at last,” said Benjy, with something like awe on his countenance.