Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole
Chapter Nineteen.
A Shooting Trip to Paradise Isle, and further Display of the Captain’s Contrivances
While our explorers were thus reduced to a state of forced inaction as regarded the main object of their expedition, they did not by any means waste their time in idleness. On the contrary, each of the party went zealously to work in the way that was most suitable to his inclination.
After going over the main island of Poloe as a united party, and ascertaining its size, productions, and general features, the Captain told them they might now do as they pleased. For his part he meant to spend a good deal of his time in taking notes and observations, questioning the chief men as to the lands lying to the northward, repairing and improving the hut, and helping the natives miscellaneously so as to gain their regard.
Of course Leo spent much of his time with his rifle, for the natives were not such expert hunters but that occasionally they were badly off for food. Of course, also, Alf shouldered his botanical box and sallied forth hammer in hand, to “break stones,” as Butterface put it. Benjy sometimes followed Alf—more frequently Leo, and always carried his father’s double-barrelled shot-gun. He preferred that, because his powers with the rifle were not yet developed. Sometimes he went with Toolooha, or Tekkona, or Oblooria, in one of the native oomiaks to fish. At other times he practised paddling in the native kayak, so that he might accompany Chingatok on his excursions to the neighbouring islands after seals and wild-fowl.
In the excursions by water Leo preferred one of the india-rubber boats—partly because he was strong and could row it easily, and partly because it was capable of holding more game than the kayak.
These expeditions to the outlying islands were particularly delightful. There was something so peaceful, yet so wild, so romantic and so strange about the region, that the young men felt as if they had passed into a new world altogether. It is scarcely surprising that they should feel thus, when it is remembered that profound calms usually prevailed at that season, causing the sea to appear like another heaven below them; that the sun never went down, but circled round and round the horizon—dipping, indeed, a little more and more towards it each night, but not yet disappearing; that myriads of wild birds filled the air with plaintive cries; that whales, and sea-unicorns, and walruses sported around; that icebergs were only numerous enough to give a certain strangeness of aspect to the scene—a strangeness which was increased by the frequent appearance of arctic phenomena, such as several mock-suns rivalling the real one, and objects being enveloped in a golden haze, or turned upside down by changes in atmospheric temperature.
“No wonder that arctic voyagers are always hankering after the far north,” said Leo to Benjy, one magnificent morning, as they rowed towards the outlying islands over the golden sea.
Captain Vane was with them that morning, and it was easy to see that the Captain was in a peculiar frame of mind. A certain twinkle in his eyes and an occasional smile, apparently at nothing, showed that his thoughts, whatever they might be, were busy.
Now, it cannot have failed by this time to strike the intelligent reader, that Captain Vane was a man given to mystery, and rather fond of taking by surprise not only Eskimos but his own companions. On the bright morning referred to he took with him in the boat a small flat box, or packing-case, measuring about three feet square, and not more than four inches deep.
As they drew near to Leo’s favourite sporting-ground,—a long flat island with several small lakes on it which were bordered by tall reeds and sedges, where myriads of ducks, geese, gulls, plover, puffins, and other birds revelled in abject felicity,—Benjy asked his father what he had got in the box.
“I’ve got somethin’ in it, Benjy,—somethin’.”
“Why, daddy,” returned the boy with a laugh, “if I were an absolute lunatic you could not treat me with greater contempt. Do you suppose I am so weak as to imagine that you would bring a packing-case all the way from England to the North Pole with nothing in it?”
“You’re a funny boy, Benjy,” said the Captain, regarding his son with a placid look.
“You’re a funny father, daddy,” answered the son with a shake of the head; “and it’s fortunate for you that I’m good as well as funny, else I’d give you some trouble.”
“You’ve got a good opinion of yourself, Ben, anyhow,” said Leo, looking over his shoulder as he rowed. “Just change the subject and make yourself useful. Jump into the bow and have the boat-hook ready; the water shoals rather fast here, and I don’t want to risk scraping a hole in our little craft.”
The island they were approaching formed part of the extensive archipelago of which Poloe was the main or central island. Paradise Isle, as Leo had named it, lay about two miles from Poloe. The boat soon touched its shingly beach, but before it could scrape thereon its occupants stepped into the water and carefully carried it on shore.
“Now, Benjy, hand me the rifle and cartridges,” said Leo, after the boat was placed in the shadow of a low bank, “and fetch the game-bag. What! you don’t intend to carry the packing-case, uncle, do you?”
“I think I’d better do it,” answered the Captain, lifting the case by its cord in a careless way; “it might take a fancy to have a swim on its own account, you know. Come along, the birds are growing impatient, don’t you see?”
With a short laugh, Leo shouldered his rifle, and marched towards the first of a chain of little lakes, followed by Benjy with the game-bag, and the Captain with the case.
Soon a splendid grey wild-goose was seen swimming at a considerable distance beyond the reeds.
“There’s your chance, now, Leo,” said the Captain. But Leo shook his head. “No use,” he said; “if I were to shoot that one I’d never be able to get it; the mud is too deep for wading, and the reeds too thick for swimming amongst. It’s a pity to kill birds that we cannot get hold of, so, you see, I must walk along the margin of the lake until I see a bird in a good position to be got at, and then pot him.”
“But isn’t that slow work, lad?” asked the Captain.
“It might be slow if I missed often or wounded my birds,” replied Leo, “but I don’t often miss.”
The youth might with truth have said he never missed, for his eye was as true and his hand as sure as that of any Leatherstocking or Robin Hood that ever lived.
“Why don’t you launch the boat on the lake?” asked the Captain.
“Because I don’t like to run the risk of damaging it by hauling it about among mud and sticks and overland. Besides, that would be a cumbersome way of hunting. I prefer to tramp about the margin as you see, and just take what comes in my way. There are plenty of birds, and I seldom walk far without getting a goodish—hist! There’s one!”
As he spoke another large grey goose was seen stretching its long neck amongst the reeds at a distance of about two hundred yards. The crack of the rifle was followed by the instant death of the goose. At the same moment several companions of the bird rose trumpeting into the air amid a cloud of other birds. Again the rifle’s crack was heard, and one of the geese on the wing dropped beside its comrade.
As Leo carried his repeating rifle, he might easily have shot another, but he refrained, as the bird would have been too far out to be easily picked up.
“Now, Benjy, are you to go in, or am I?” asked the sportsman with a sly look.
“Oh! I suppose I must,” said the boy with an affectation of being martyred, though, in truth, nothing charmed him so much as to act the part of a water-dog.
A few seconds more, and he was stripped, for his garments consisted only of shirt and trousers. But it was more than a few seconds before he returned to land, swimming on his back and trailing a goose by the neck with each hand, for the reeds were thick and the mud softish, and the second bird had been further out than he expected.
“It’s glorious fun,” said Benjy, panting vehemently as he pulled on his clothes.
“It’s gloriously knocked up you’ll be before long at that rate,” said the Captain.
“Oh! but, uncle,” said Leo, quickly, “you must not suppose that I give him all the hard work. We share it between us, you know. Benjy sometimes shoots and then I do the retrieving. You’ve no idea how good a shot he is becoming.”
“Indeed, let me see you do it, my boy. D’ye see that goose over there?”
“What, the one near the middle of the lake, about four hundred yards off?”
“Ay, Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it, my boy.”
“But you’ll never be able to get it, uncle,” said Leo.
“Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it.” There was no disobeying this peremptory command. Leo handed the rifle to the boy.
“Down on one knee, Ben, Hythe position, my boy,” said the Captain, in the tone of a disciplinarian. Benjy obeyed, took a long steady aim, and fired.
“Bravo!” shouted the Captain as the bird turned breast up. “There’s that goose’s brother comin’ to see what’s the matter with him; just cook his goose too, Benjy.”
The boy aimed again, fired, and missed.
“Again!” cried the Captain, “look sharp!”
Again the boy fired, and this time wounded the bird as it was rising on the wing.
Although wounded, the goose was quite able to swim, and made rapidly towards the reeds on the other side.
“What! am I to lose that goose?” cried the Captain indignantly.
Leo seized the rifle. Almost without taking time to aim, he fired and shot the bird dead.
“There,” said he, laughing, “but I suspect it is a lost goose after all. It will be hard work to get either of these birds, uncle. However, I’ll try.”
Leo was proceeding to strip when the Captain forbade him.
“Don’t trouble yourself, lad,” he said, “I’ll go for them myself.”
“You, uncle?”
“Ay, me. D’ye suppose that nobody can swim but you and Benjy? Here, help me to open this box.”
In silent wonder and expectation Leo and Benjy did as they were bid. When the mysterious packing-case was opened, there was displayed to view a mass of waterproof material. Tumbling this out and unrolling it, the Captain displayed a pair of trousers and boots in one piece attached to something like an oval life-buoy. Thrusting his legs down into the trousers and boots, he drew the buoy—which was covered with india-rubber cloth—up to his waist and fixed it there. Then, putting the end of an india-rubber tube to his mouth, he began to blow, and the buoy round his waist began to extend until it took the form of an oval.
“Now, boys,” said the Captain, with profound gravity, “I’m about ready to go to sea. Here, you observe, is a pair o’ pants that won’t let in water. At the feet you’ll notice two flaps which expand when driven backward, and collapse when moved forward. These are propellers—human web-feet—to enable me to walk ahead, d’ye see? and here are two small paddles with a joint which I can fix together—so—and thus make one double-bladed paddle of ’em, about four feet long. It will help the feet, you understand, but I’m not dependent on it, for I can walk without the paddles at the rate of two or three miles an hour.”
As he spoke Captain Vane walked quietly into the water, to the wild delight of Benjy, and the amazement of his nephew.
When he was about waist-deep the buoy floated him. Continuing to walk, though his feet no longer touched ground, he was enabled by the propellers to move on. When he had got out a hundred yards or so, he turned round, took off his hat, and shouted—“land ho!”
“Ship ahoy!” shrieked Benjy, in an ecstasy.
“Mind your weather eye!” shouted the Captain, resuming his walk with a facetious swagger, while, with the paddles, he increased his speed. Soon after, he returned to land with the two geese.
“Well now, daddy,” said his son, while he and Leo examined the dress with minute interest, “I wish you’d make a clean breast of it, and let us know how many more surprises and contrivances of this sort you’ve got in store for us.”
“I fear this is the last one, Benjy, though there’s no end to the applications of these contrivances. You’d better apply this one to yourself now, and see how you get on in it.”
Of course Benjy was more than willing, though, as he remarked, the dress was far too big for him.
“Never mind that, my boy. A tight fit ain’t needful, and nobody will find fault with the cut in these regions.”
“Where ever did you get it, father?” asked the boy, as the fastenings were being secured round him.
“I got it from an ingenious friend, who says he’s goin’ to bring it out soon. Mayhap it’s in the shops of old England by this time. There, now, off you go, but don’t be too risky, Ben. Keep her full, and mind your helm.”3
Thus encouraged, the eager boy waded into the water, but, in his haste, tripped and fell, sending a volume of water over himself. He rose, however, without difficulty, and, proceeding with greater caution, soon walked off into deep water. Here he paddled about in a state of exuberant glee. The dress kept him perfectly dry, although he splashed the water about in reckless fashion, and did not return to land till quite exhausted.
Benjamin Vane from that day devoted himself to that machine. He became so enamoured of the “water-tramp,” as he styled it—not knowing its proper name at the time—that he went about the lakelets in it continually, sometimes fishing, at other times shooting. He even ventured a short distance out to sea in it, to the amazement of the Eskimos, the orbits of whose eyes were being decidedly enlarged, Benjy said, and their eyebrows permanently raised, by the constant succession of astonishment-fits into which they were thrown from day to day by their white visitors.
Chapter Twenty.
Benjy’s Enjoyments Interrupted, and Poloeland Overwhelmed with a Catastrophe
One pleasant morning, towards the end of summer, Benjamin Vane went out with his gun in the water-tramp on the large lake of Paradise Isle.
Leo and he had reached the isle in one of the india-rubber boats. They had taken Anders with them to carry their game, and little Oblooria to prepare their dinner while they were away shooting; for they disliked the delay of personal attention to cooking when they were ravenous! After landing Benjy, and seeing him busy getting himself into the aquatic dress, Leo said he would pull off to a group of walruses, which were sporting about off shore, and shoot one. Provisions of fowl and fish were plentiful enough just then at the Eskimo village, but he knew that walrus beef was greatly prized by the natives, and none of the huge creatures had been killed for some weeks past.
About this time the threatened war with the northern Eskimos had unfortunately commenced.
The insatiable Grabantak had made a descent on one of Amalatok’s smaller islands, killed the warriors, and carried off the women and children, with everything else he could lay hands on. Of course Amalatok made reprisals; attacked a small island belonging to Grabantak, and did as much general mischief as he could. The paltry islet about which the war began was not worthy either of attack or defence!
Then Amalatok, burning with the righteous indignation of the man who did not begin the quarrel, got up a grand muster of his forces, and went with a great fleet of kayaks to attack Grabantak in his strongholds.
But Grabantak’s strongholds were remarkably strong. A good deal of killing was done, and some destruction of property accomplished, but that did not effect the conquest of the great northern Savage. Neither did it prove either party to be right or wrong! Grabantak retired to impregnable fastnesses, and Amalatok returned to Poloeland “covered with glory,”—some of his followers also covered with wounds, a few of which had fallen to his own share. The success, however, was not decided. On the whole, the result was rather disappointing, but Amalatok was brave and high-spirited, as some people would say. He was not going to give in; not he! He would fight as long as a man was left to back him, and bring Grabantak to his knees—or die! Either event would, of course, have been of immense advantage to both nations. He ground his teeth and glared when he announced this determination, and also shook his fist, but a sharp twinge of pain in one of his unhealed wounds caused him to cease frowning abruptly.
There was a sound, too, in the air, which caused him to sit down and reflect. It was a mixed and half-stifled sound, as if of women groaning and little children wailing. Some of his braves, of course, had fallen in the recent conflicts—fallen honourably with their faces to the foe. Their young widows and their little ones mourned them, and refused to be comforted, because they were not. It was highly unpatriotic, no doubt, but natural.
Amalatok had asked the white men to join him in the fight, but they had refused. They would help him to defend his country, if attacked, they said, but they would not go out to war. Amalatok had once threatened Blackbeard if he refused to go, but Blackbeard had smiled, and threatened to retaliate by making him “jump!” Whereupon the old chief became suddenly meek.
This, then, was the state of affairs when Benjy and Leo went shooting, on the morning to which we have referred.
But who can hope to describe, with adequate force, the joyful feelings of Benjamin Vane as he moved slily about the lakelets of Paradise Isle in the water-tramp? The novelty of the situation was so great. The surrounding circumstances were so peculiar. The prolonged calms of the circumpolar basin, at that period of the year, were so new to one accustomed to the variable skies of England; the perpetual sunshine, the absence of any necessity to consider time, in a land from which night seemed to have finally fled; the glassy repose of lake and sea, so suggestive of peace; the cheery bustle of animal life, so suggestive of pleasure—all these influences together filled the boy’s breast with a strong romantic joy which was far too powerful to seek or find relief in those boisterous leaps and shouts which were his usual safety-valves.
Although not much given to serious thought, except when conversing with his father, Benjy became meditative as he moved quietly about at the edge of the reeds, and began to wonder whether the paradise above could exceed this paradise below!
Events occurred that day which proved to him that the sublunary paradise was, at least, woefully uncertain in its nature.
“Now, just keep still, will you, for one moment,” muttered Benjy, advancing cautiously through the outer margin of reeds, among the stems of which he peered earnestly while he cocked his gun.
The individual to whom he spoke made no reply, because it was a goose—would that it were thus with all geese! It was a grey goose of the largest size. It had caught a glimpse of the new and strange creature that was paddling about its home, and was wisely making for the shelter of a spot where the reeds were more dense, and where Benjy would not have dared to follow. For, it must be remembered that our young sportsman was sunk to his waist in water, and that the reeds rose high over his head, so that if once lost in the heart of them, he might have found it extremely difficult to find his way out again.
Anxious not to lose his chance, he gave vent to a loud shout. This had the effect of setting up innumerable flocks of wild-fowl, which, although unseen, had been lurking listeners to the strange though gentle sound of the water-tramp. Among them rose the grey goose with one or two unexpected comrades.
Benjy had not at that time acquired the power of self-restraint necessary to good shooting. He fired hastily, and missed with the first barrel. Discharging the second in hotter haste, he missed again, but brought down one of the comrades by accident. This was sufficiently gratifying. Picking it up, he placed it on the boat-buoy in front of him to balance several ducks which already lay on the part in rear. He might have carried a dozen geese on his novel hunting-dress, if there had been room for them, for its floating power was sufficient to have borne up himself, and at least four, if not five, men.
Pursuing his way cautiously and gently, by means of the webbed feet alone, the young sportsman moved about like a sly water-spirit among the reeds, sometimes addressing a few pleasant words, such as, “how d’ye do, old boy,” or, “don’t alarm yourself, my tulip,” to a water-hen or a coot, or some such bird which crossed his path, but was unworthy of his shot; at other times stopping to gaze contemplatively through the reed stems, or to float and rest in placid enjoyment, while he tried to imagine himself in a forest of water-trees.
Everywhere the feathered tribes first gazed at him in mute surprise; then hurried, with every variety of squeak, and quack, and fluttering wing, from his frightful presence.
Suddenly he came in sight of a bird so large that his heart gave a violent leap, and the gun went almost of its own accord to his shoulder, but the creature disappeared among the reeds before he could take aim. Another opening, however, again revealed it fully to view! It was a swan—a hyperborean wild swan!
Just as he made this discovery, the great bird, having observed Benjy, spread its enormous wings and made off with an amazing splutter.
Bang! went Benjy’s gun, both barrels in quick succession, and down fell the swan quite dead, with its head in the water and its feet pointing to the sky.
“What a feast the Eskimos will have to-night!” was Benjy’s first thought as he tramped vehemently towards his prize.
But his overflowing joy was rudely checked, for, having laid his gun down in front of him, for the purpose of using the paddle with both hands, it slipped to one side, tilted up, and, disappearing like an arrow in the lake, went to the bottom.
The sinking of Benjy’s heart was not less complete. He had the presence of mind, however, to seize the reeds near him and check his progress at the exact spot. Leaning over the side of his little craft, he beheld his weapon quivering, as it were, at the bottom, in about eight feet of water. What was to be done? The energetic youth was not long in making up his mind on that point. He would dive for it. But diving in the water-tramp was out of the question. Knowing that it was all but impossible to make his way to the shore through the reeds, he resolved to reach the opposite shore, which was in some places free from vegetation. Seizing one of the reeds, he forced it down, and tied it into a knot to mark the spot where his loss had happened. He treated several more reeds in this way till he gained the open water outside, thus marking his path. Then he paddled across the lake, landed, undressed, and swam out again, pushing the empty dress before him, intending to use it as a resting-place.
On reaching the spot, he dived with a degree of vigour and agility worthy of a duck, but found it hard to reach the bottom, as he was not much accustomed to diving. For the same reason he found it difficult to open his eyes under water, so as to look for the gun. While trying to do so, a desperate desire to breathe caused him to leap to the surface, where he found that he had struggled somewhat away from the exact spot. After a few minutes’ rest, he took a long breath and again went down; but found, to his dismay, that in his first dive he had disturbed the mud, and thus made the water thick. Groping about rendered it thicker, and he came to the surface the second time with feelings approaching to despair. Besides which, his powers were being rapidly exhausted.
But Benjy was full of pluck as well as perseverance. Feeling that he could not hold out much longer, he resolved to make the next attempt with more care—a resolve, it may be remarked, which it would have been better to have made at first.
He swam to the knotted reed, considered well the position he had occupied when his loss occurred, took an aim at a definite spot with his head, and went down. The result was that his hands grasped the stock of the gun the moment they reached the bottom.
Inflated with joy he leaped with it to the surface like a bladder; laid it carefully on the water-dress, and pushing the latter before him soon succeeded in getting hold of the dead swan. The bird was too heavy to be lifted on the float, he therefore grasped its neck with his teeth, and thus, heavily weighted, made for the shore.
It will not surprise the reader to be told that Benjy felt hungry as well as tired after these achievements, and this induced him to look anxiously for Leo, and to wonder why the smoke of Oblooria’s cooking-lamp was not to be seen anywhere.
The engrossing nature of the events just described had prevented our little hero from observing that a smart breeze had sprung up, and that heavy clouds had begun to drive across the hitherto blue sky, while appearances of a very squally nature were gathering on the windward horizon. Moreover, while engaged in paddling among the reeds he had not felt the breeze.
It was while taking off the water-tramp that he became fully alive to these facts.
“That’s it,” he muttered to himself. “They’ve been caught by this breeze and been delayed by having had to pull against it, or perhaps the walruses gave them more trouble than they expected.”
Appeasing his appetite as well as he could with this reflection, he left the water-tramp on the ground, with the dripping gun beside it, and hurried to the highest part of the island. Although not much of an elevation, it enabled him to see all round, and a feeling of anxiety filled his breast as he observed that the once glassy sea was ruffled to the colour of indigo, while wavelets flecked it everywhere, and no boat was visible!
“They may have got behind some of the islands,” he thought, and continued his look-out for some time, with growing anxiety and impatience, however, because the breeze was by that time freshening to a gale.
When an hour had passed away the poor boy became thoroughly alarmed.
“Can anything have happened to the boat?” he said to himself. “The india-rubber is easily cut. Perhaps they may have been blown out to sea!”
This latter thought caused an involuntary shudder. Looking round, he observed that the depression of the sun towards the horizon indicated that night had set in.
“This will never do,” he suddenly exclaimed aloud. “Leo will be lost. I must risk it!”
Turning as he spoke, he ran back to the spot where he had left the water-dress, which he immediately put on. Then, leaving gun and game on the beach, he boldly entered the sea, and struck out with feet and paddle for Poloeland.
Although sorely buffeted by the rising waves, and several times overwhelmed, his waterproof costume proved well able to bear him up, and with comparatively little fatigue he reached the land in less than two hours. Without waiting to take the dress off, he ran up to the Eskimo village and gave the alarm.
While these events were going on among the islets, Captain Vane and Alphonse Vandervell had been far otherwise engaged.
“Come, Alf,” said the Captain, that same morning, after Leo and his party had started on their expedition, “let you and me go off on a scientific excursion,—on what we may style a botanico-geologico-meteorological survey.”
“With all my heart, uncle, and let us take Butterface with us, and Oolichuk.”
“Ay, lad, and Ivitchuk and Akeetolik too, and Chingatok if you will, for I’ve fixed on a spot whereon to pitch an observatory, and we must set to work on it without further delay. Indeed I would have got it into working order long ago if it had not been for my hope that the cessation of this miserable war would have enabled us to get nearer the North Pole this summer.”
The party soon started for the highest peak of the island of Poloe—or Poloeland, as Alf preferred to call it. Oolichuk carried on his broad shoulders one of those mysterious cases out of which the Captain was so fond of taking machines wherewith to astonish the natives.
Indeed it was plain to see that the natives who accompanied them on this occasion expected some sort of surprise, despite the Captain’s earnest assurance that there was nothing in the box except a few meteorological instruments. How the Captain translated to the Eskimos the word meteorological we have never been able to ascertain. His own explanation is that he did it in a roundabout manner which they failed to comprehend, and which he himself could not elucidate.
On the way up the hill, Alf made several interesting discoveries of plants which were quite new to him.
“Ho! stop, I say, uncle,” he exclaimed for the twentieth time that day, as he picked up some object of interest.
“What now, lad?” said the Captain, stopping and wiping his heated brow.
“Here is another specimen of these petrifactions—look!”
“He means a vegetable o’ some sort turned to stone, Chingatok,” explained the Captain, as he examined the specimen with an interested though unscientific eye.
“You remember, uncle, the explanation I gave you some time ago,” said the enthusiastic Alf, “about Professor Heer of Zurich, who came to the conclusion that primeval forests once existed in these now treeless Arctic regions, from the fossils of oak, elm, pine, and maple leaves discovered there. Well, I found a fossil of a plane leaf the other day,—not a very good one, to be sure—and now, here is a splendid specimen of a petrified oak-leaf. Don’t you trace it quite plainly?”
“Well, lad,” returned the Captain, frowning at the specimen, “I do believe you’re right. There does seem to be the mark of a leaf there, and there is some ground for your theory that this land may have been once covered with trees, though it’s hard to believe that when we look at it.”
“An evidence, uncle, that we should not be too ready to judge by appearances,” said Alf, as they resumed their upward march.
The top gained, a space was quickly selected and cleared, and a simple hut of flat stones begun, while the Captain unpacked his box. It contained a barometer, a maximum and minimum self-registering thermometer, wet and dry bulb, also a black bulb thermometer, a one-eighth-inch rain-gauge, and several other instruments.
