The Sea-Wolf, Jack London [best smutty novels txt] 📗
- Author: Jack London
Book online «The Sea-Wolf, Jack London [best smutty novels txt] 📗». Author Jack London
The upshot of the affair was that she accompanied me next morning. I rowed into the adjoining cove and up to the edge of the beach. There were seals all about us in the water, and the bellowing thousands on the beach compelled us to shout at each other to make ourselves heard.
“I know men club them,” I said, trying to reassure myself, and gazing doubtfully at a large bull, not thirty feet away, upreared on his fore-flippers and regarding me intently. “But the question is, How do they club them?”
“Let us gather tundra grass and thatch the roof,” Maud said.
She was as frightened as I at the prospect, and we had reason to be gazing at close range at the gleaming teeth and doglike mouths.
“I always thought they were afraid of men,” I said.
“How do I know they are not afraid?” I queried a moment later, after having rowed a few more strokes along the beach. “Perhaps, if I were to step boldly ashore, they would cut for it, and I could not catch up with one.” And still I hesitated.
“I heard of a man, once, who invaded the nesting grounds of wild geese,” Maud said. “They killed him.”
“The geese?”
“Yes, the geese. My brother told me about it when I was a little girl.”
“But I know men club them,” I persisted.
“I think the tundra grass will make just as good a roof,” she said.
Far from her intention, her words were maddening me, driving me on. I could not play the coward before her eyes. “Here goes,” I said, backing water with one oar and running the bow ashore.
I stepped out and advanced valiantly upon a long-maned bull in the midst of his wives. I was armed with the regular club with which the boat pullers killed the wounded seals gaffed aboard by the hunters. It was only a foot and a half long, and in my superb ignorance I never dreamed that the club used ashore when raiding the rookeries measured four to five feet. The cows lumbered out of my way, and the distance between me and the bull decreased. He raised himself on his flippers with an angry movement. We were a dozen feet apart. Still I advanced steadily, looking for him to turn tail at any moment and run.
At six feet the panicky thought rushed into my mind, What if he will not run? Why, then I shall club him, came the answer. In my fear I had forgotten that I was there to get the bull instead of to make him run. And just then he gave a snort and a snarl and rushed at me. His eyes were blazing, his mouth was wide open; the teeth gleamed cruelly white. Without shame, I confess that it was I who turned and footed it. He ran awkwardly, but he ran well. He was but two paces behind when I tumbled into the boat, and as I shoved off with an oar his teeth crunched down upon the blade. The stout wood was crushed like an eggshell. Maud and I were astounded. A moment later he had dived under the boat, seized the keel in his mouth, and was shaking the boat violently.
“My!” said Maud. “Let’s go back.”
I shook my head. “I can do what other men have done, and I know that other men have clubbed seals. But I think I’ll leave the bulls alone next time.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said.
“Now don’t say, ‘Please, please,’ ” I cried, half angrily, I do believe.
She made no reply, and I knew my tone must have hurt her.
“I beg your pardon,” I said, or shouted, rather, in order to make myself heard above the roar of the rookery. “If you say so, I’ll turn and go back; but honestly, I’d rather stay.”
“Now don’t say that this is what you get for bringing a woman along,” she said. She smiled at me whimsically, gloriously, and I knew there was no need for forgiveness.
I rowed a couple of hundred feet along the beach so as to recover my nerves, and then stepped ashore again.
“Do be cautious,” she called after me.
I nodded my head and proceeded to make a flank attack on the nearest harem. All went well until I aimed a blow at an outlying cow’s head and fell short. She snorted and tried to scramble away. I ran in close and struck another blow, hitting the shoulder instead of the head.
“Watch out!” I heard Maud scream.
In my excitement I had not been taking notice of other things, and I looked up to see the lord of the harem charging down upon me. Again I fled to the boat, hotly pursued; but this time Maud made no suggestion of turning back.
“It would be better, I imagine, if you let harems alone and devoted your attention to lonely and inoffensive-looking seals,” was what she said. “I think I have read something about them. Dr. Jordan’s book, I believe. They are the young bulls, not old enough to have harems of their own. He called them the holluschickie, or something like that. It seems to me if we find where they haul out—”
“It seems to me that your fighting instinct is aroused,” I laughed.
She flushed quickly and prettily. “I’ll admit I don’t like defeat any more than you do, or any more than I like the idea of killing such pretty, inoffensive creatures.”
“Pretty!” I sniffed. “I failed to mark anything preeminently pretty about those foamy-mouthed beasts that raced me.”
“Your point of view,” she laughed. “You lacked perspective. Now if you did not have to get so close to the subject—”
“The very thing!” I cried. “What I need is a longer club. And there’s that broken oar ready to hand.”
“It just comes to me,” she said, “that Captain Larsen was telling me how the men raided the rookeries. They drive the seals, in small herds, a short distance inland before they kill them.”
“I don’t care to undertake the herding of one of those harems,”
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