When the storm had passed, a profound calm once more settled down on the
face of nature, as if the elements had been utterly exhausted by the
conflict. Once more the sea became like a sheet of undulating glass, in
which clouds and sun and boats were reflected vividly, and once again
our voyagers found themselves advancing towards the north, abreast of
each other, and rowing sociably together at the rate of about four miles
an hour.
When advancing under oars they went thus abreast so as to converse
freely, but when proceeding under kites they kept in single file, so as
to give scope for swerving, in the event of sudden change of wind, and
to prevent the risk of the entanglement of lines.
"What is that?" exclaimed Benjy, pointing suddenly to an object ahead
which appeared at regular intervals on the surface of the water.
"A whale, I think," said Leo.
"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.
"It does look uncommon like it," replied the Captain, with a perplexed
expression on his rugged visage. "Get out the rifles, lad! It's as
well to be ready. D'ye know what it is, Chingatok?"
Again the giant uttered the unpronounceable name, while Benjy got out
the fire-arms with eager haste.
"Load 'em all, Ben, load 'em all, an' cram the Winchester to the
muzzle," said the Captain. "There's no sayin' what we may have to
encounter; though I _have_ heard of a gigantic bit of seaweed bein'
mistaken for the great sea-serpent before now."
"That may be, father," said Benjy, with increasing excitement, "but
nobody ever saw a bit of seaweed swim with the activity of a gigantic
eel like _that_. Why, I have counted its coils as they rise and sink,
and I'm quite sure it's a hundred and fifty yards long if it's an inch."
Those in the other boats were following the Captain's example,--getting
out and charging the fire-arms,--and truly there seemed some ground for
their alarm, for the creature, which approached at a rapid rate,
appeared most formidable. Yet, strange to say, the Eskimos paid little
attention to it, and seemed more taken up with the excitement of the
white men.
When the creature had approached to within a quarter of a mile, it
diverged a little to the left, and passed the boats at the distance of a
few hundred yards. Then Captain Vane burst into a sudden laugh, and
shouted:--
"Grampuses!"
"What?" cried Leo.
"Grampuses!" repeated the Captain. "Why, it's only a shoal of grampuses
following each other in single file, that we've mistaken for one
creature!"
Never before was man or boy smitten with heavier disappointment than was
poor Benjy Vane on that trying occasion.
"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.