Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole
Chapter Twenty Four.
A Glorious Region Contemplated, and a Glorious Chase Planned
Leo did not slumber long. Very early in the morning he awoke with that sensation about him which told that at that time further repose was not attainable. He therefore rose, donned the few garments which he had put off on lying down, crept through his tunnel, and emerged into the open air.
And what a vision of glorious beauty met his enraptured eyes, while the fresh sea-breeze entered, like life, into his heaving chest! It was still a profound calm. Earth, air, water, sky, seemed to be uniting in a silent act of adoration to their great Creator, while the myriad creatures therein contained were comparatively quiet in the enjoyment of His rich and varied bounties. It seemed as if the hour were too early for the strife of violent passions—too calm for the stirrings of hatred or revenge. Everything around spoke only of peace. Sitting down with his back to a sun-bathed rock, and his face to the silver sea, Leo drew out his Bible and proceeded to read the records of the Prince of Peace.
As he lifted his eyes from the words, “marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well,” to the vision of beauty and life that lay before him, Leo made the words and the thought, for the first time, his own.
The prospect embraced innumerable islands of all sizes, studding like gems the gently-heaving sea. Over these, countless millions of sea-birds flew or sailed to and fro; some with the busy fluttering of activity, as if they had something to do and a mind to do it; others loitering idly on the wing, or dipping lightly on the wave, as if to bid their images good-morning. Burgomaster, yellow-legged, and pink-beaked gulls, large and small, wheeled in widening circles round him. Occasional flocks of ptarmigan, in the mixed brown and white plumage of summer, whirred swiftly over him and took refuge among the rocky heights of the interior, none of which heights rose above three hundred feet. Eider-ducks, chattering kittiwakes, and graceful tern, auks, guillemots, puffins, geese, and even swans, swarmed on the islands, far and near, while seals, whales, narwhals, dolphins, and grampuses, revelled in the sea, so that the Arctic world appeared almost overcharged with animal life.
Of course the noise of their cries and evolutions would have been great had not distance lent enchantment to sound as well as view. To Leo there seemed even a sort of restfulness in the voices of the innumerable wild-fowl. They were so far off, most of them, that the sounds fell on his ear like a gentle plaint, and even the thunderous plash of the great Greenland whale was reduced by distance to a ripple like that which fell on the shore at his feet.
While he was meditating, Anders joined him and responded heartily to his salutation, but Anders was not in a poetical frame of mind that morning. His thoughts had been already turned to an eminently practical subject.
“I’m tole,” said he, seating himself beside our hero, “dat Grabantak holds a talk ’bout fighting.”
“And a council of war,” said Leo. “I know what the result of that will be. When leaders like Grabantak and Amalatok decide for war, most of the people follow them like a flock of sheep. Although most of the people never saw this miserable island—this Puiröe—and know, and care, nothing about it, you’ll see that the Flatlanders will be quite enthusiastic after the council, and ready to fight for it to the bitter end. A very bitter end it is, indeed, to see men and women make fools of themselves about nothing, and be ready to die for the same! Will Grabantak allow us to be present at the council, think you?”
“Ho yis. He send me to say you muss come.”
Leo was right. Nothing could surpass the impetuosity of Grabantak, except the anxiety of many of the Flatlanders to be led by the nose. Was not the point in question one of vital importance to the wellbeing of the community—indeed of the whole Arctic world? Teyma mildly asked them what was the point in question, but not a soul could tell, until Grabantak, starting up with furious energy, manufactured a “point,” and then explained it in language so intricate, yet so clear, that the whole council stood amazed at their never having seen it before in that light, and then said, more or less emphatically, “There, that’s what we thought exactly, only we could not state it so well as the great Grabantak!”
After this there was no chance for Teyma and his party—and he had a party, even among northern savages,—who believed in men working hard at their own affairs and letting other people alone, as far as that was possible. But the peace-party in Arctic land was in a minority at that time, and the council broke up with shouts for Grabantak, and denunciations of death and destruction to the men of Poloeland.
But things do not always turn out as men—even wise men—arrange them. From that day, during the brief period of preparation for the setting out of an expedition to visit Makitok of Great Isle, Leo received daily visits from the Prime Minister, who was deeply interested and inquisitive about the strange “thing,” as he styled the Bible, which told the Kablunets about God and the Prince of Peace. Of course Leo was willing and happy to give him all the information he desired, and, in doing so, found a new and deep source of pleasure.
Teyma was not the man to hide his light under a bushel. He was a fearless outspoken counsellor, and not only sought to advance the pacific views he held, by talking to the men of his own party in private, but even propounded them in public to Grabantak himself, who, however, could not be moved, though many of his men quietly changed sides.
With all this Teyma was loyal to his chief. Whatever he did was in the way of fair and open argument. He was too loyal to help Leo when he made a certain proposal to him one day.
“Teyma,” said Leo, on that occasion, “you have been very friendly to me. Will you do me a great favour? Will you send a young man in a kayak to Poloeland with a message from me to my people? They must think I am dead. I wish them to know that I am here, and well.”
“No,” replied Teyma promptly; “that would let the men of Poloe know that we talk of going to attack them. I do not love war. I wish to let our enemies alone, but if my chief decides for war, it is my duty to help, not to frustrate him. If we go to war with Poloeland, we must take the men of Poloe by surprise. That could not be if a young man went with your message.”
Leo saw the force of this, and respected Teyma’s disinterested loyalty to his chief; but felt inclined to argue that, fidelity to the best interests of his country stood higher than loyalty to a chief. He refrained, however, from pressing the matter at that time.
Not so Anders. When that worthy saw that Teyma would not act, and that Leo from some inexplicable reason hesitated, he quietly took the matter into his own hands, and so wrought on the feelings of a weak but amiable youth of the tribe, that he prevailed on him to carry a message to the enemy, explaining to him earnestly that no evil, but the reverse, would result from his mission; that the Kablunets were men of peace, who would immediately come over to Flatland and put everything right in a peaceable and satisfactory manner.
“Tell the white men,” said Anders, “that we are prisoners in Flatland—alive and well—but they must come to help us quickly.”
No difficulty was experienced in sending the messenger away. There was unlimited personal freedom in Flatland. Young men frequently went off to hunt for days together at a time, without saying anything about their intentions, unless they chose; so the secret messenger set out. Thus the interpreter lighted the fuse of a mine which was eminently calculated to blow up the plans of Grabantak.
But another fuse had been lighted which, in a still more effectual manner, overturned the plans of that warlike chief.
It chanced at this time that the Flatlanders ran short of meat. Their habit was to go off on a grand hunt, gather as much meat as they could, and then come home to feast and rejoice with their families until scarcity again obliged them to hunt. Of course there were many among them whose natural activity rebelled against this lazy style of life, but the exertions of these did not suffice to keep the whole tribe supplied. Hence it came to pass, that they often began to be in want while in the midst of plenty. A grand hunt was therefore organised.
They were tired, they said, of ducks and geese and swans. They wanted a change from seals and bears, walruses and such small fry. Nothing short of a whale would serve them!
Once stirred up to the point of action, there was no lack of energy among these northern Eskimos. Kayaks, lines, and spears were got ready, and oomiaks were launched; for women and children loved to see the sport, though they did not join in it. Everywhere bustle and excitement reigned, and the hubbub was not a little increased by the agitated dogs, which knew well what was a-foot, and licked their lips in anticipation.
Of course Leo and Anders prepared to go and see the fun. So did Oblooria. It was arranged that Leo and the latter were to go in the india-rubber boat.
That vessel had been the source of deep, absorbing interest and curiosity to the natives. When our travellers landed, it had been conveyed to the side of the hut assigned them, and laid gently on the turf, where it was stared at by successive groups all day. They would have stayed staring at it all night, if they had not been forbidden by Grabantak to approach the Kablunets during the hours of repose. Leo explained its parts to them, but made no reference to its expansive and contractile properties. He also launched it and paddled about to gratify the curiosity of his new friends, but did not show them the kite, which, folded and in its cover, he had stowed away in the hut.
One night, fearing that the sun might injure the boat, Leo had squeezed the air out of it, folded it, and stowed it away in the hut beside the kite. The astonishment of the natives, when they came out next morning to stare and wonder, according to custom, was very great. Leo resolved to make a mystery of it, looked solemn when spoken to on the point, and gave evasive replies.
When, however, the time came for setting off on this grand hunt, he carried his boat, still bundled up in skins, down to the water’s edge, where kayaks and oomiaks in hundreds lay ready to be launched.
The news spread like wild-fire that the Kablunet was going to “act wonderfully!”
Every man, woman, and child in the place hurried to the spot.
“It is destroyed!” exclaimed Grabantak, sadly, when he saw the boat unrolled, flat and empty, on the sand.
We shall not describe the scene in detail. It is sufficient to say that Leo did not disappoint the general expectation. He did indeed “act wonderfully,” filling the unsophisticated savages with unbounded surprise and admiration, while he filled the boat with air and launched it. He then stepped into it with Anders, gallantly lifted Oblooria on board, and, seizing the oars, rowed gently out to sea.
With shouts of delight the Eskimos jumped into their kayaks and followed. Their admiration was, however, a little calmed by the discovery that the kayaks could beat the Kablunet boat in speed, though the women in their oomiaks could not keep up with it. There was no emulation, however; Leo carefully refrained from racing.
He had been supplied with a long lance and a couple of spears, to which latter were attached, by thongs of walrus hide, two inflated sealskins to act as buoys. These Leo had been previously instructed how to use.
He took the kite with him on this occasion, without, however, having much expectation of being able to use it, as the calm still prevailed. It was folded of course, and fixed in its place in the bow. The natives thought it must be a spear or harpoon of strange form.
It was not long before a whale was sighted. There were plenty of these monsters about, some coming lazily to the surface to blow, others lying quite still, with their backs out of the water as if sunning themselves, or asleep.
Soon the spirit of the hunter filled each Eskimo bosom. What appeared to be an unusually large whale was observed on the horizon. Kablunets, india-rubber boats, and all less important things, were forgotten for the moment; paddles were plied with energy, and the chase began.
Chapter Twenty Five.
In which a Great Hunt is Described, a War Expedition Frustrated, and a Hero Ennobled
Now, in a fit of unwise ambition, Anders the interpreter resolved to signalise himself, and display his valour on the occasion of this hunt. He borrowed a kayak of one of the natives, and went as an independent hunter. Leo, being quite able to row his boat alone, with Oblooria to steer, did not object.
The whale which had been selected was a thorough-going Arctic monster of the largest size, nearly a hundred feet long, which, while on his passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific through Behring Straits, had paused for a nap off the isles of Flatland.
The fleet of kayaks converged towards the fish like a flock of locusts. Despite his utmost efforts, Leo could not do more than keep up in rear of the hunters, for the sharp shuttle-like kayaks shot like arrows over the smooth sea, while his clumsier boat required greater force to propel it.
In a few minutes those Eskimos who were best paddlers crept ahead of the rest. Grabantak and his son took the lead, whether because of right or because of superior strength it was hard to say. Anders, who was a powerful fellow, and an expert canoeman, kept close alongside of them. Not content with this, he attempted to pass them; but they saw his intention, put on what sporting men call a “spurt,” and in a few seconds left him several yards behind.
On nearing their victim, Grabantak and Koyatuk checked their speed and got their spears ready. A few minutes later and a dozen of the followers were up and prepared to act, but they all held back—all except the excitable Anders—while the chief and his son glided cautiously towards the fish, one on either side. Suddenly each grasped a spear and drove it with all the force of both arms deep into the whale’s flesh. It was a rude awaking! Of course the fish dived instantly. In doing so it flung its tail on high with a superb sweep, sending tons of water, and the impatient Anders, into the air.
The interpreter came down in a cataract of spray, with his kayak doubled up but himself uninjured, while the Eskimos greeted the event with a shout of alarm. This changed into laughter when it was found that the ambitious man was none the worse for his toss; and the women in one of the oomiak; paddling quickly up, hauled the drenched and crestfallen man out of the sea. They also picked up his spear with the sealskin buoy attached. Giving him the place of honour in the bow, they put the spear in his hand, and bade him keep up heart and do better next time.
Meanwhile the whale, having got over its first surprise, and feeling the two large sealskin-floats a somewhat heavy as well as unusual drag, soon came again to the surface, not far from the spot where Leo lay on his oars, an amused as well as interested spectator of the scene.
“Ho!” shrieked Oblooria, whose eager little heart was easily excited. She pointed to the fish, and gazed at Leo with blazing eyes.
You may be sure our hero did not lose time. The india-rubber boat leaped over the water as if it had suddenly been endowed with life. The smart little woman carefully arranged the spear and buoy ready to hand. Several of the kayaks which chanced to be nearest to the whale rushed towards it like sword-fish; but they had no chance, Leo being so near. He did not check his speed on reaching the fish, but allowed the boat to run tilt on its back. The smooth india-rubber glided up on the slippery surface till more than half its length was on the creature’s back. It was thus checked without a shock—probably unfelt by the whale.
Leo seized the spear, leaped up, and, with both hands, drove it deep into the flesh, just as the chief and his son had done. The force with which he drove it was so great that it thrust the boat back into the water. This was fortunate, for it enabled them narrowly to escape the vortex that was instantly made by the diving of the now enraged monster; a few back-strokes of the oars took them out of the sea of foam left behind.
The masterly manner in which this was done called forth shouts of admiration from the entire fleet, and it greatly surprised Leo himself, for it was the first time he had attempted to use the harpoon.
“It must have been chance,” he muttered to himself as he again lay on his oars awaiting the whale’s reappearance, “a sort of happy accident. I feel convinced I could not do it so well a second time.”
The fish took a longer dive on this occasion, and when he retained to the surface for another breath of air, was at a considerable distance from all parts of the fleet. The instant he was seen, however, every paddle flashed into the sea, and the kayaks darted away in pursuit. They soon came up with their victim, and another spear, with its accompanying sealskin buoy, was fixed in its side. Down it went a third time, and reappeared in quite an opposite direction from that in which it had been looked for.
This uncertainty in the movements of the whale was a matter of small moment to the occupiers of the light kayaks, but it told rather heavily on Leo in his clumsier boat. He therefore resolved to paddle gently about, take things easy, watch the progress of the chase, and trust to the chapter of accidents giving him another chance.
“You see, Oblooria,” he said in the Eskimo tongue, which he was picking up rapidly, “it’s of no use my pulling wildly about in all directions, blowing myself for nothing; so we’ll just hang off-and-on here and watch them.”
As this remark called for no direct reply, Oblooria merely smiled—indeed she more than smiled—but said nothing. It is just possible that Leo’s rendering of the phrase “off-and-on” into Eskimo may have sounded ridiculous.
However this may be, the two sat there for some time, absorbed and silent spectators of the chase.
“How long will they take to kill it?” asked Leo when he saw Grabantak thrust somewhere about the thirty-fifth spear into the victim.
“All day,” answered Oblooria.
“All day!” repeated Leo in surprise.
“If they could lance him far in,” said the girl, “he would die soon, but his flesh is thick and his life is deep down.”
Leo relapsed into silence. The idea of remaining a mere spectator all day was distasteful to his active mind and body. He had almost made up his mind to ask one of the natives to lend him a kayak and change places, when a puff of wind sent a few cats-paws over the hitherto glassy sea.
He looked quickly in the direction whence it came, and observed a blue line on the horizon. It was a coming breeze. Ere long it touched them, blowing gently, indeed, but steadily. A glance upwards showed that it was steadier and stronger in the upper regions, and blew towards the south-east, in which direction the chase was being prosecuted with unflagging activity.
“If there was only enough,” muttered Leo, “to take the kite up, I’d soon be alongside of the whale; come, I’ll try. Lend a hand, Oblooria.”
The Eskimo girl had, during her voyage to Flatland, become so well acquainted with the operation of extending and setting up the kite, that she was able to lend effective assistance. In less than ten minutes it was expanded, and although Leo was nearly pulled into the water before he got fair hold of the regulator, while Oblooria was thrown down by an eccentric whisk of the tail, they managed at last to get it fairly over their heads, and soon sent it shooting upwards into the stronger air current above. Of course they began to rush over the sea at a pace that would have quickly left the best kayak in the fleet far astern, but Leo did not wish to act precipitately. He sat down in the bow to attend to the regulator, while Oblooria held the steering-oar.
“Keep her away a bit, Oblooria; starboard—I mean to that side. So, we won’t spoil their sport too soon.”
He pulled the regulator as he spoke, and eased the pace, while the Eskimo girl, with eyes glittering from expectancy and hope, turned the boat off to the right.
Leo seemed to be meditative at first, as if uncertain how to proceed. Soon this condition of mind passed. He let go the regulator, and, taking up the long whale lance with which he had been provided, examined its blade and point. The full force of the breeze filled the kite and carried them along at not less than ten miles an hour.
Hitherto the Eskimos had been so intent on their prey that they had no eyes for anything else. Again and again had the whale been pierced by the stinging harpoons, and the number of inflated sealskins which he was obliged by that time to drag down into the deep was so great that his dives had become more frequent and much shorter. It was obvious that the perseverance of his little foes would in the end overcome his mighty strength. It was equally evident, however, that there was still a great deal of fighting power left in him, and as some of the harpoons had come out while several of the floats had broken loose, there was just a possibility that he might yet escape if not vigorously followed up.
Suddenly one of the Eskimos was seen to drop his paddle and point with both hands to the sky, uttering at the same time a cry of surprise and alarm. There was no mistaking the cry. Every paddle ceased to dip, and every eye was turned to the sky. Of course every voice gave forth a howl!
“A mystery!” shouted Grabantak.
“An evil spirit!” cried Koyatuk.
“A new kind of bird!” roared Teyma.
At that moment a cry louder than ever arose. Leo’s boat was observed coming like a narwhal over the sea, with the foam flying from its bows!
The “new kind of bird,” so they at first imagined, had let down a long thin tail, caught the boat of the white man, and was flying away with it!
Into the midst of them the boat rushed. They dashed aside right and left. Leo was standing in the bow. He moved not, spoke not, looked at no one, but stood up, bent a little forward, with a stern frown on his brow, his lips compressed, and the long lance held level in both hands as if in the act of charging.
“Catch hold of him!” yelled Grabantak as they flew past. As well might they have tried to catch a comet!
“Steer a little to the left,” said Leo in a low tone.
Obedient, on the instant, the girl made a sharp stroke with the oar.
“Steady—so. Now, Oblooria, hold on tight for your life!”
They were going straight at the whale. Leo did not dare to think of the result of his intended attack. He could not guess it. He hoped all would be well. He had no time to think of pros and cons. They were close to the victim. On it, now, sliding over its back, while the sharp lance entered its body with the full momentum of the charge,—deep down into its vitals! Blood flew out like a waterspout. The lance was torn from Leo’s grasp as he fell backwards. Oblooria leaped up, in wild excitement, dropped her oar, and clapped her hands. At that instant the stout traction-line snapped, and the boat remained fast, while the kite descended in a series of helpless gyrations into the sea. Next moment the whale went down in a convulsive struggle, and the boat, with its daring occupants, was whelmed in a whirlpool of blood and foam.
No cry proceeded from the Eskimos during this stupendous attack. They seemed bereft alike of voice and volition, but, on beholding the closing catastrophe, they rushed to the rescue with a united roar.
Before they could gain the spot, Leo was seen to emerge from the deep, dripping with pink and white foam like a very water-god. Oblooria followed instantly, like a piebald water-nymph. The boat had not been upset, though overwhelmed, and they had held on to it with the tenacity of a last hope.
Looking sharply round, as he gasped and swept the water from his eyes, Leo seized the oars, which, being attached to the boat, were still available, and rowed with all his might away from the approaching Eskimos as if he were afraid of being caught by them. They followed with, if possible, increased surprise at this inexplicable conduct. They made up to him; some even shot ahead of him. Poor Leo was not a moment too soon in reaching his kite, for these people were about to transfix it with their whale-harpoons, when he dashed up and ordered them to desist.
Having rescued the miserable-looking thing from the sea and hastily folded it, he placed it in the bow. Then breathing freely, he began to look about him just as the whale came again to the surface in a dying flurry. It so chanced that it came up right under Grabantak’s kayak, which it tossed up end over end. This would not have been a serious matter if it had not, the next moment, brought its mighty tail down on the canoe. It then sheered off a hundred yards or so, leaped half its length out of the water, and fell over on its side with a noise like thunder and died.
Every one turned to the place where the chief’s kayak lay a complete wreck on the water. Its owner was seen swimming beside it, and was soon hauled into one of the women’s oomiaks. Evidently he had been severely hurt, but he would not admit the fact. With characteristic dignity he sternly ordered the fleet to lay hold of the whale and make for the shore.
“Tell him his arm is broken,” said Leo that evening to Anders, after examining the chief’s hurts in the privacy of his own hut, “and let him know that I am a medicine-man and will try to cure him.”
Grabantak received the information with a look of anger.
“Then,” said he, “Amalatok must live a little longer, for I cannot fight him with a broken arm. Go,” he added, looking full at Leo with something like admiration, “go, you have done well to-day; my young men want to make your nose blue.”
The peremptory nature of the chief’s command forbade delay. Leo was therefore obliged to creep out of his hut, wondering intensely, and not a little uncomfortably, as to what having his nose made blue could mean.
He was quickly enlightened by Anders, who told him that the most successful harpooner in a whale hunt is looked on as a very great personage indeed, and is invariably decorated with what may be styled the Eskimo order of the Blue Ribbon.
Scarcely had he received this information, when he was seized by the young men and hurried into the midst of an expectant circle, where he submitted with a good grace to the ceremony. A youth advanced to him, made a few complimentary remarks, seized him by the right ear, and, with a little wet paint, drew a broad blue line across his face over the bridge of his nose. He was then informed that he had received the highest honour known to the Eskimos of the far north, and that, among other privileges, it gave him the right of marrying two wives if he felt disposed to do so! Accepting the honour, but declining the privilege, Leo expressed his gratitude for the compliment just paid him in a neat Eskimo speech, and then retired to his hut in search of much-needed repose, not a little comforted by the thought that the chief’s broken arm would probably postpone the threatened war for an indefinite period.
That night ridiculous fancies played about his deerskin pillow, for he dreamed of being swallowed by a mad whale, and whisked up to the sky by a kite with a broken arm and a blue stripe across its nose!
