“They look fierce enough,” said Willy. “But they are only seals, and as they have not got legs, I suppose we can easily manage to keep out of their way.” Captain Twopenny proposed shooting the sea-lion; but the doctor warned him not to fire, lest he might alarm the remainder, who might take to the water before they could land. He directed Willy, therefore, to steer the boat further round, so that they might get on shore at a little distance from the seals, and then, by creeping on them unawares, kill as many as they might require.
They soon landed, and the captain and doctor led the way, club in hand, followed by Willy, Peter, and three of the men, one having been left in charge of the boat. Willy shortly afterwards missed Peter, who had evidently no fancy for attacking the lions, as he still believed them to be. After making their way through the bush for a short distance, the rest of the party came upon an open space in which were at least a hundred seals, apparently fast asleep, divided into three bands, which the sailors called mobs, quite separate from each other. They were of all sizes; some were huge bulls, others cows; and among them were a number of young calves. The doctor told off two men to attack each mob. Willy thought that it must be dangerous work to fight such formidable creatures; still he was not inclined to flinch from it. The doctor directed them to knock over the young ones, and not to mind the others, unless the creatures should stand at bay, or attack them. “If they do, we must give them a hard rap on the nose, which, depend upon it, will settle them at once,” he observed.
Having placed their guns against a tree, they grasped their clubs at a sign from the doctor, who set them the example, and rushed in among the seals. The animals waking up, stared at the intruders with astonishment, while the doctor and his companions, wielding their clubs, struck right and left at their heads. A single blow was sufficient to kill the young ones, and in a few seconds more than a dozen were knocked over. The larger animals, seized with alarm, instead of turning to attack their assailants, scuttled off, moving themselves with their fins at a rapid rate towards the water. Three, however, of the large seals were killed, besides the smaller ones.
“Well done, my lads,” cried the doctor, delighted. “We shall have provisions enough to last all hands for several days. No fear of starvation now, I hope. Dicey, do you and two of the men bring the boat round to take the seals on board. Dick Sharp and Tom Wall, go with Mr Dicey.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the men named.
Willy hastened off to obey the order, carrying his gun with him. He had not gone far when a cry
was heard. “Help! help! help! a savage brute is at me.” It was Peter Patch who was crying out. Willy and his companions hurried on, and in another instant they caught sight of Peter Patch scrambling up a tree, while a huge tiger-seal, as the sailors called the creature, on account of the colour of its fur, was charging at him with open mouth. Peter had barely time to draw himself up out of the monster’s way. The seal, seeing Willy and the other men approaching, now came dashing on towards them, and they had to leap actively out of its way to avoid its sharp tusks. So savage did it look that they had no wish to approach its open jaws; indeed, with such rapidity did it run and twist about in the thick bush, that they had considerable difficulty in escaping from it.
“Take care,” cried Peter; “he nearly killed me just now. If he catches you, you’ll repent it.”
At that moment the seal either heard Peter’s voice or caught sight of him, and again dashed up towards the tree. This enabled Willy and his companions to get into a more open part of the bush. Peter shrieked out, “Oh! oh! shoot him, shoot him, or he will be clambering up after me.”