“Why, what’s wrong with you, Benjy?” asked his father, as he looked at his woeful countenance.
“To think,” said the poor boy, slowly, “that I’ve come all the way to the North Pole for this! Why I’ve believed in the great sea-serpent since ever I could think, I’ve seen pictures of it twisting its coils round three-masted ships, and goin’ over the ocean with a mane like a lion, and its head fifty feet out o’ the water! Oh! it’s too bad, I’d have given my ears to have seen the great sea-serpent.”
“There wouldn’t have been much of you left, Benjy, if you had given them.”
“Well, well,” continued the boy, not noticing his father’s remark, “it’s some comfort to know that I’ve all but seen the great sea-serpent.”
It is some comfort to us, reader, to be able to record the fact that Benjy Vane was not doomed to total disappointment on that memorable day, for, on the same evening, the voyagers had an encounter with walruses which more than made up for the previous misfortune.
It happened thus:—
The three boats were proceeding abreast, slowly but steadily over the still calm sea, when their attention was attracted by a sudden and tremendous splash or upheaval of water, just off what the Captain styled his “port bow.” At the same moment the head of a walrus appeared on the surface like a gigantic black bladder. It seemed to be as large as the head of a small elephant, and its ivory tusks were not less than two feet long. There was a square bluntness about the creature’s head, and a savage look about its little bloodshot eyes, which gave to it a very hideous aspect. Its bristling moustache, each hair of which was six inches long, and as thick as a crow quill, dripped with brine, and it raised itself high out of the water, turning its head from side to side with a rapidity and litheness of action that one would not have expected in an animal so unwieldy. Evidently it was looking eagerly for something.
Catching sight of the three boats, it seemed to have found what it looked for, and made straight at them. Leo quietly got ready his Winchester repeater, a rifle which, as the reader probably knows, can discharge a dozen or more shots in rapid succession; the cartridges being contained in a case resembling a thick ram-rod under the barrel, from which they are thrust almost instantaneously into their places.
But before the creature gained the boats, a second great upheaval of water took place, and another walrus appeared. This was the real enemy of whom he had been in quest. Both were bulls of the largest and most ferocious description. No sooner did they behold each other, than, with a roar, something betwixt a bark and a bellow, they collided, and a furious fight began. The sea was churned into foam around them as they rolled, reared, spurned, and drove their tusks into each other’s skulls and shoulders.
The boats lay quietly by, their occupants looking on with interest. The Eskimos were particularly excited, but no one spoke or acted. They all seemed fascinated by the fight.