ARCTIC HUNTING 15 



the ' hammelmand ' heads the boat for the black mass which, as 

 we rapidly approach (for no one is lazily inclined now), the 

 mirage magnifies into the size of a small house. Now we are 

 within a couple of hundred yards, and each man crouches in the 

 bottom of the boat, the harpooner still in the bow, his eyes level 

 with the combing, intently fixed upon the walrus. The ' ham- 

 melmand ' alone is partly erect on his seat, only his arms moving, 

 as he guides us from behind one lump to another. .Suddenly the 

 walrus raises his head, and we are motionless. It is intensely 

 still, and the scraping of a piece of ice along the boat seems 

 like the roar of a railway train passing overhead on some 

 bridge. Down goes the head, and we glide forward again. 

 The walrus is uneasy ; again and again he raises his head and 

 looks around with a quick motion, but we have the sun right 

 at our back and he never notices us. At last we are within a 

 few feet, and with a shout of ' Vcek op, gamling ! ' ('Wake up, 

 old boy !'), which breaks the stillness like a shot, the harpooner 

 is on his feet, his weapon clasped in both hands above his 

 head. As the walrus plunges into the sea, the iron is buried 

 in his side, and with a quick twist to prevent the head from 

 slipping out of the same slit that it has cut in the thick hide, 

 the handle is withdrawn and thrown into the boat. No. 2, 

 who, with a turn round the forward thwart, has been paying 

 out the line, now checks it, as stroke and the ' hammelmand/ 

 facing forward, hang back on their oars to check the rush. 

 Bumping and scraping amongst the ice, we are towed along 

 for about five minutes, and then stop as the walrus comes to 

 the surface to breathe. In the old days the lance would finish 

 the business, but now it is the rifle. He is facing the boat, I 

 sight for one of his eyes, and let him have both barrels, with- 

 out much effect apparently, for away we rush for two or three 

 minutes more, when he is up again, still facing the boat. He 

 seems to care no more for the solid Express bullets (I am 

 using a -450 Holland & Holland Express) than if they were 

 peas ; but he is slow this time, and, as he turns to dive,, 

 exposes the fatal spot at the back of the head, and dies. 



