They were black, and jumped around in the weirdest way, so that they appeared to be alive.

I knew that if I shot one, I would never hear the last of it, so took good care.
"Another time we went for a herd of fifty-odd walruses that were sleeping on the ice.

The wind was blowing fairly hard, and it is never easy to shoot accurately from a whale-boat which is doing a cake-walk in the arms of a choppy sea.

When we got twenty yards from the ice cake, we began to fire.

I hit a couple of walruses, but did not kill them, and with fierce grunts the huge brutes wriggled into the sea.