They arose without a word. They were sick of it, too, sick to death. We were a silent, gloomy crew indeed as we thrust the surf boat afloat, clambered in, and shipped the oars. No one spoke a word; no one had a comment to make, even when we saw the rookery slide into the water while we were still fifty yards from the beach. We pulled back slowly along the coast. Beyond the rock we made out the entrance to the dry cave.
"There's seal in there," cried Handy Solomon, "lots of 'em!"
He thrust the rudder over, and we headed for the cave. No one expressed an opinion.
As it was again high tide, we rowed in to the steep shore inside the cave's mouth and beached the boat. The place was full of seals; we could hear them bellowing.
"Two of you stand here," shouted Handy Solomon, "and take them as they go out. We'll go in and scare 'em down to you."
"They'll run over us," screamed Pulz.
"No, they won't. You can dodge up the sides when they go by."
This was indeed well possible, so we gripped our clubs and ventured into the darkness.
We advanced four abreast, for the cave was wide enough for that. As we penetrated, the bellowing and barking became more deafening. It was impossible to see anything, although we felt an indistinguishable tumbling mass receding before our footsteps. Thrackles swore violently as he stumbled over a laggard. With uncanny abruptness the black wall of
