It was an awful blow. What cared Alf or the Captain now for discovery, or scientific investigation! The poor negro, who had never at any time cared for plants, rocks, or Poles, was sunk in the profoundest depths of sorrow. Benjy’s gay spirit was utterly broken. Oolichuk’s hearty laugh was silenced, and a cloud of settled melancholy descended over the entire village of Poloe.
Chapter Twenty One.
Fate of the Lost Ones.
Leo, Anders, and timid little Oblooria, however, were not lost! Their case was bad enough, but it had not quite come to that.
On parting from Benjy, as described in the last chapter, these three went after a walrus, which coquetted with them instead of attacking, and drew them a considerable distance away from the island. This would have been a matter of trifling import if the weather had remained calm, but, as we have seen, a sudden and violent gale arose.
When the coming squall was first observed the boat was far to leeward of Paradise Isle, and as that island happened to be one of the most northerly of the group over which Amalatok ruled, they were thus far to leeward of any land with the exception of a solitary sugar-loaf rock near the horizon. Still Leo and his companions were not impressed with any sense of danger. They had been so long accustomed to calms, and to moving about in the india-rubber boats by means of paddles with perfect ease and security, that they had half forgotten the force of wind. Besides, the walrus was still playing with them provokingly—keeping just out of rifle-shot as if he had studied fire-arms and knew their range exactly.
“The rascal!” exclaimed Leo at last, losing patience, “he will never let us come an inch nearer.”
“Try ’im once more,” said Anders, who was a keen sportsman, “push him, paddle strong. Ho! Oblooria, paddle hard and queek.”