A MID-OCEAN HUNTING TRIP.
"Well," remarked Jack after breakfast the next day, "old 'Frozen Face'
seems to be on the job all right."
"Yes, but, mon, we should have baptized him wi' seal oil! I've just
remembered that that was what the native told me to use."
"Seal oil, eh?" laughed Tom. "Well, there's a scarcity of that article
on board just now, so I'm afraid that Mister Totem will just have to
job along without any."
"Huh!" grunted Sandy, "then dinna depend on yon old gent to treat us
right. I'll bet he's got it in for us richt noo."
The next day it appeared, indeed, as if Sandy's dire predictions were
about to be verified. The _Northerner_ ran into a storm that buffeted
her about sadly. Her speed had to be cut down till she made scarcely
any headway. It was a difficult matter to get about on deck owing to
the great seas that washed over the laboring vessel. By orders of Mr.
Dacre the lads were kept below much to their disgust.
The gale finally blew itself out and the boys found that the old totem
had remained at his post through it all, although they had more than
half expected to find him washed overboard. But their faith in him as
a mascot was sadly shaken.
From time to time, as they nosed northward, the ship encountered
floating icebergs. None of them were so large as to cause alarm,
however, and for the most part they were low and islandlike in
appearance.
The boys were idly watching one of these as the ship approached it,
when Tom made out several black objects on the floe. What these
specks were did not become apparent till some time later when Jack
proclaimed their nature.
"Seals!" cried he. "Don't I wish we had a harpoon! We'd have a seal
hunt!"
Tom smiled and drew from his pocket his automatic revolver which he
had been cleaning.
"I guess this is as good as any harpoon that ever harpooned," he said,
tapping its heavy stock.
"I wonder if we could get permission to go after them?" pondered Jack.
"I'm sick of being penned up on board here."
"I'll be the lad to go and ask," declared Sandy boldly. "If we can
kill a seal it'll be a chance to baptize old 'Frozen Face' in the
richt style. I'll point oot to Mr. Dacre that all the hurlyburly the
other day came from shampooing him with kerosene instead of seal oil."
"I hope he puts the seal of approval on your plan," declared Jack.
"Don't repeat that offense, or in case we do get leave to go, you'll
be left behind," said Tom.
"I'll seal you later," cried Sandy, dashing off before a justly
merited punishment could be visited upon him.
He was back in a few minutes.
"It's a' richt, fellows!" he exclaimed. "We're to take the small boat
and not delay longer than we have to. They won't give us more than
half an hour."
"Then we'll have to hustle. We'll be up to that floe before long,"
cried Jack.
The boys darted to their cabins to get ready for the hunt. Their faces
glowed with pleasure at this unexpected break in the monotony of the
voyage. When they returned on deck, they found Mr. Dacre awaiting them
and the boat lowered alongside with the accommodation ladder dangling
above it.
"Boys," he exclaimed with some excitement, "we've been looking at that
floe through the glasses. They're not seals that have taken passage
on it, but walruses, a herd of them."
"Good!" cried Tom. "We'll get a fine lot of tusks to send home."
"Steady on, steady on," warned his uncle, "walrus hunting is a very
different matter from chasing seals. An old bull makes a formidable
enemy."
"Are you coming along?" asked Tom, who saw that his uncle had his
rifle.
"Yes, I wouldn't care to let you lads go on such an expedition alone.
Seals, as I said, are too tame to afford real sport. Walrus hunting is
another thing altogether."
While the steamer lay by, the adventurous little party clambered down
into the boat. From the bridge, Mr. Chillingworth, who had elected to
remain on board, waved a farewell to them and shouted his wishes for
their good luck.
Tom and Jack took the oars and rowed with strong, swift strokes toward
the drifting berg. As they neared it, it was seen that its sides were
higher than they had looked from the steamer's decks. It was no easy
task to make a landing. Finally, however, Mr. Dacre scaled a four-foot
shelf and then pulled Tom up after him. Jack followed, and Sandy,
who had not much fancied a closer view of the big-tusked,
formidable-looking walruses, was not sorry to be told to stay behind
and look after the boat, which there was no means of mooring to the
smooth, slippery floe.
When the hunters gained the top of the berg, they saw that had they
rowed around to the other side, a landing might have been effected
much more easily. A depression ran like a small valley down to the
water's edge, making an almost perfect landing place on the ice floe.
Jack was ordered back to tell Sandy to row the boat around the floe to
this point and await the hunters there.
In the meantime, Mr. Dacre and Tom had crept cautiously forward,
crouching behind every projection that afforded cover, for at the
approach of the boat the big walruses had flopped clumsily to the
other side of the drifting berg.
As Jack made his way back from his errand to Sandy, he saw Mr. Dacre
suddenly crouch low, and Tom, who was at his side, did the same. The
boy suspected that the game had been sighted and was within range. He
made his way cautiously to the hunters' sides, and was rewarded with
the sight of about a dozen huge black masses lying along the outer
edge of a ridge of ice that ran into the "valley" before mentioned.
Mr. Dacre put a warning hand on Jack's arm to prevent his making any
outcry. He pointed to the highest point of the ice valley. There, with
his great, clumsy head erect, his hairy nostrils distended and his
long tusks gleaming white against his fat, shiny body, was a huge bull
walrus. The sentinel, perhaps the leader of the herd of
formidable-looking creatures.
"We're on his wind," whispered Mr. Dacre, "we must creep along this
ridge. Follow me and make no noise. He's scented us, but he hasn't
seen us yet."
With nerves athrill the two boys followed their elder, wriggling
cautiously over the ice.
Suddenly Mr. Dacre stiffened. His rifle was jerked to his shoulder.
Taking careful sight, the hunter's weapon rang out echoingly above the
ice floe. Tom and Jack saw the great bull shake his head, roar angrily
and emit a hoarse, shrill bellow of pain and rage. He had been shot,
but he stood his ground. All about him the herd gathered.
"You hit him!" shouted Tom, half wild with excitement. He was about to
run forward exultingly, but his uncle jerked him backward.
"_You stay right here_," he said as he pulled the boy down beside
him.