We were so genuinely emptied, not so much by the cricket as by the two years of fermentation, that not one of us stirred toward breakfast, in fact not one of us moved from the listless attitude in which day found him, until after nine o’clock.  Then we pulled ourselves together and cooked coffee and salt horse.  As a significant fact, the Nigger left the dishes unwashed, and no one cared.

Handy Solomon finally shook himself and arose.

“I’m sick of this,” said he, “I’m goin’ seal-hunting.”

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 darkness in front of us was alive with fiery eyeballs.  The seals had reached the end of the cave and had turned toward us.  We, too, stopped, a little uncertain as to how to proceed.

The first plan had been to get behind the band and to drive it slowly toward the entrance to the cave.  This was now seen to be impossible.  The cavern was too narrow; its sides at this point too steep, and the animals too thickly congested.  Our eyes, becoming accustomed to the twilight, now began to make out dimly the individual bodies of the seals and the general configuration of the rocks.  One big boulder lay directly in our path, like an island in the shale of the cave’s floor.  Perdosa stepped to the top of it for a better look.  The men attempted to communicate their ideas of what was to be done, but could not make themselves heard above the uproar.  I could see their faces contorting with the fury of being baffled.  A big bull made a dash to get by; all the herd flippered after him.  If he had won past they would have followed as obstinately as sheep, and nothing could have stopped them, but the big bull went down beneath the clubs.  Thrackles hit the animal two vindictive blows after it had succumbed.