Records a Wonderful Apparition but a Furious Night.  
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.
 
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.
 
Soon one and another and another walrus-head came up out of the sea, and then it was understood that a number of cow walruses had come to witness the combat! But the human audience paid little regard to these, ............