Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole
Chapter Twenty Six.
Tells of a Warlike Expedition and its Happy Termination
While these stirring events were taking place in Flatland, our friends in the Island of Poloe continued to fish and hunt, and keep watch and ward against their expected enemies in the usual fashion; but alas for the poor Englishmen! All the light had gone out of their eyes; all the elasticity had vanished from their spirits. Ah! it is only those who know what it is to lose a dear friend or brother, who can understand the terrible blank which had descended on the lives of our discoverers, rendering them, for the time at least, comparatively indifferent to the events that went on around them, and totally regardless of the great object which had carried them so far into those regions of ice.
They could no longer doubt that Leo and his companions had perished, for they had searched every island of the Poloe group, including that one on which Leo and the Eskimos had found temporary refuge. Here, indeed, a momentary gleam of hope revived, when Alf found the spent cartridge-cases which his brother had thrown down on the occasion of his shooting for the purpose of impressing his captors, and they searched every yard of the island, high and low, for several days, before suffering themselves to relapse into the old state of despair. No evidence whatever remained to mark the visit of the Eskimos, for these wily savages never left anything behind them on their war-expeditions, and the storm had washed away any footprints that might have remained in the hard rocky soil.
Amalatok—who, with his son and his men, sympathised with the Englishmen in their loss, and lent able assistance in the prolonged search—gave the final death-blow to their hopes by his remarks, when Captain Vane suggested that perhaps the lost ones had been blown over the sea to Flatland.
“That is not possible,” said Amalatok promptly.
“Why not? The distance is not so very great.”
“The distance is not very great, that is true,” replied Amalatok. “If Lo had sailed away to Flatland he might have got safely there, but Blackbeard surely forgets that the storm did not last more than a few hours. If Lo had remained even a short time on this island, would not the calm weather which followed the storm have enabled him to paddle back again to Poloe? No, he must have thought the storm was going to be a long one, and thinking that, must have tried, again to face it and paddle against it. In this attempt he has perished. Without doubt Lo and Unders and Oblooria are in the land of spirits.”
Eskimos of the far north, unlike the red men of the prairies, are prone to give way to their feelings. At the mention of the timid one’s name, Oolichuk covered his face with his hands and wept aloud. Poor Alf and Benjy felt an almost irresistible desire to join him. All the fun and frolic had gone completely out of the latter, and as for Alf, he went about like a man half asleep, with a strange absent look in his eyes and a perfect blank on his expressionless face. No longer did he roam the hills of Poloeland with geological hammer and box. He merely went fishing when advised or asked to do so, or wandered aimlessly on the sea-shore. The Captain and Benjy acted much in the same way. In the extremity of their grief they courted solitude.
The warm hearts of Chingatok and the negro beat strong with sympathy. They longed to speak words of comfort, but at first delicacy of feeling, which is found in all ranks and under every skin, prevented them from intruding on sorrow which they knew not how to assuage.
At last the giant ventured one day to speak to Alf. “Has the Great Spirit no word of comfort for His Kablunet children?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” replied Alf quickly. “He says, ‘Call upon me in the time of trouble and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.’”
“Have you not called?” asked Chingatok with a slight look of surprise.
“No; I say it to my shame, Chingatok. This blow has so stunned me that I had forgotten my God.”
“Call now,” said the giant earnestly. “If He is a good and true God, He must keep His promise.”
Alf did call, then and there, and the Eskimo stood and listened with bowed head and reverent look, until the poor youth had concluded his prayer with the name of Jesus.
The negro’s line of argument with Benjy was different and characteristically lower toned.
“You muss keep up de heart, Massa Benjy. Nobody nebber knows wot may come for to pass. P’r’aps Massa Leo he go to de Nort Pole by hisself. He was allers bery fond o’ takin’ peepil by surprise. Nebber say die, Massa Benjy, s’long’s der’s a shot in de locker.”
At any other time Benjy would have laughed at the poor cook’s efforts to console him, but he only turned away with a sigh.
Two days after that the Eskimos of Poloe were assembled on the beach making preparations to go off on a seal hunt.
“Is that a whale on the horizon or a walrus!” asked the Captain, touching Chingatok on the arm as they stood on the edge of the sea, ready to embark.
“More like a black gull,” said Benjy, “or a northern diver.”
Chingatok looked long and earnestly at the object in question, and then said with emphasis—“A kayak!”
“One of the young men returning from a hunt, I suppose,” said Alf, whose attention was aroused by the interest manifested by the surrounding Eskimos.
“Not so,” said Amalatok, who joined the group at the moment, “the man paddles like a man of Flatland.”
“What! one of your enemies?” cried the Captain, who, in his then state of depression, would have welcomed a fight as a sort of relief. Evidently Butterface shared his hopes, for he showed the whites of his eyes and grinned amazingly as he clenched his horny hands.
“Yes—our enemies,” said Amalatok.
“The advanced guard of the host,” said the Captain, heartily; “come, the sooner we get ready for self-defence the better.”
“Yis, dat’s de word,” said the negro, increasing his grin for a moment and then collapsing into sudden solemnity; “we nebber fights ’cep’ in self-defence—oh no—nebber!”
“They come not to attack,” said Chingatok quietly. “Flatlanders never come except in the night when men sleep. This is but one man.”
“Perhaps he brings news!” exclaimed Benjy, with a sudden blaze of hope.
“Perhaps,” echoed Alf, eagerly.
“It may be so,” said Chingatok.
It was not long before the question was set at rest. The approaching kayak came on at racing speed. Its occupant leaped on shore, and, panting from recent exertion, delivered his thrilling message.
“Prisoners in Flatland,” said the Captain at the council of war which was immediately summoned, “but alive and well. Let us be thankful for that good news, anyhow; but then, they ask us to help them, quickly. That means danger.”
“Yes, danger!” shouted Oolichuk, who, at the thought of Oblooria in the hands of his foes, felt an almost irresistible desire to jump at some of the youths of his own tribe, and kill them, by way of relieving his feelings.
“Rest content, Oolichuk,” cried Amalatok, with a horrible grinding of his teeth; “we will tear out their hearts, and batter in their skulls, and—”
“But,” resumed the Captain hastily, “I do not think the danger so great. All I would urge is that we should not delay going to their rescue—”
“Ho! huk! hi!” interrupted the whole band of assembled warriors, leaping up and going through sundry suggestive actions with knives and spears.
“Does my father wish me to get the kayaks ready?” asked Chingatok, who, as usual, retained his composure.
“Do, my son. Let plenty of blubber be stowed in them, and war-spears,” said the old chief; “we will start at once.”
The promptitude with which these northern Eskimos prepared for war might be a lesson to the men of civilised communities. We have already said that the sun had by that time begun to set for a few hours each day. Before it had reached the deepest twilight that night a hundred and fifty picked warriors, with their kayaks and war material, were skimming over the sea, led by the fiery old chief and his gigantic but peace-loving son. Of course Captain Vane, Benjy, Alphonse Vandervell, and Butterface accompanied them, but none of the women were allowed to go, as it was expected that the war would be a bloody one. These, therefore, with the children, were left in charge of a small body of the big boys of the tribe, with the old men.
The weather was fine, the sea smooth, and the arms of the invading host strong. It was not long before the sea that separated Poloe Island from Flatland was crossed.
Towards sunset of a calm and beautiful day they sighted land. Gently, with noiseless dip of paddle, they glided onward like a phantom fleet.
That same evening Leo and Oblooria sat by the couch of Grabantak, nursing him. The injury received by the chief from the whale had thrown him into a high fever. The irritation of enforced delay on his fiery spirit had made matters worse, and at times he became delirious. During these paroxysms it required two men to hold him down, while he indulged in wild denunciations of his Poloe foes, with frequent allusions to dread surgical operations to be performed on the body of Amalatok—operations with which the Royal College of Surgeons is probably unacquainted. Leo, whose knowledge of the Eskimo tongue was rapidly extending, sought to counteract the patient’s ferocity by preaching forgiveness and patience. Being unsuccessful, he had recourse to a soporific plant which he had recently discovered. To administer an overdose of this was not unnatural, perhaps, in a youthful doctor. Absolute prostration was not the precise result he had hoped for, but it was the result, and it had the happy effect of calming the spirit of Grabantak and rendering him open to conviction.
Fortunately the Flatlanders were on the look-out when the men of Poloe drew near. One of the Flatland braves was returning from a fishing expedition at the time, saw the advancing host while they were yet well out at sea, and came home at racing speed with the news.
“Strange that they should come to attack us,” said Teyma to Leo at the council of war which was immediately called. “It has always, up to this time, been our custom to attack them.”
“Not so strange as you think,” said Anders, who now, for the first time, mentioned the sending of the message to Poloeland.
Black looks were turned on the interpreter, and several hands wandered towards boots in search of daggers, when the prime minister interfered.
“You did not well, Unders, to act without letting us know,” he said with grave severity. “We must now prepare to meet the men of Poloe, whether they come as friends or foes. Let the young men arm. I go to consult with our chief.”
“You must not consult with Grabantak,” said Leo firmly. “He lies limp. His backbone has no more strength than a piece of walrus line. His son must act for him at present.”
“Boo!” exclaimed one of the warriors, with a look of ineffable contempt, “Koyatuk is big enough, but he is brainless. He can bluster and look fierce like the walrus, but he has only the wisdom of an infant puffin. No, we will be led by Teyma.”
This sentiment was highly applauded by the entire council, which included the entire army, indeed the whole grown-up male part of the nation; so that Koyatuk was deposed on the spot, as all incompetents ought to be, and one of the best men of Flatland was put in his place.
“But if I am to lead you,” said the premier firmly, “it shall be to peace, not to war!”
“Lead us to what you like; you have brains,” returned the man who had previously said “boo!” “We know not what is best, but we can trust you.”
Again the approval was unanimous.
“Well, then, I accept the command until my chief’s health is restored,” said Teyma, rising. “Now, the council is at an end. To your huts, warriors, and get your spears ready; and to your lamps, girls. Prepare supper for our warriors, and let the allowance of each be doubled.”
This latter command caused no small degree of surprise, but no audible comment was made, and strict obedience was rendered.
Leo returned to Grabantak’s hut, where he found that fiery chief as limp as ever, but with some of the old spirit left, for he was feebly making uncomfortable references to the heart, liver, and other vital organs of Amalatok and all his band.
Soon afterwards that band came on in battle array, on murderous deeds intent. The Flatlanders assembled on the beach to receive them.
“Leave your spears on the ground behind you,” shouted Teyma to his host; “advance to the water’s edge, and at my signal, throw up your arms.”
“They have been forewarned,” growled Amalatok, grinding his teeth in disappointment, and checking the advance of his fleet by holding up one hand.
“No doubt,” said Captain Vane, who, with Benjy, Alf, and Butterface, was close to the Poloe chief in one of the india-rubber boats, “no doubt my young countryman, having sent a message, expected us. Surely—eh! Benjy, is not that Leo standing in front of the rest with another man?”
The Captain applied his binocular telescope to his eyes as he spoke.
“Yes, it’s him—thank God! and I see Anders too, quite plainly, and Oblooria!”
“Are they bound hand and foot?” demanded Amalatok, savagely.
“No, they are as free as you are. And the Eskimos are unarmed, apparently.”
“Ha! that is their deceit,” growled the chief. “The Flatlanders were always sly; but they shall not deceive us. Braves, get ready your spears!”
“May it not be that Leo has influenced them peacefully, my father?” suggested Chingatok.
“Not so, my son,” said the chief savagely. “Grabantak was always sly as a white fox, fierce as a walrus, mean as a wolf, greedy as a black gull, contemptible as—”
The catalogue of Grabantak’s vices was cut short by the voice of Teyma coming loud and strong over the sea.
“If the men of Poloe come as friends, let them land. The men of Flatland are about to feed, and will share their supper. If the men of Poloe come as foes, still I say let them land. The braves of Flatland have sharpened their spears!”
Teyma threw up both hands as he finished, and all his host followed suit.
For a moment or two the Poloese hesitated. They still feared deception. Then the voice of Leo was heard loud and clear.
“Why do you hesitate? come on, uncle, supper’s getting cold. We’ve been waiting for you a long time, and are all very hungry!”
This was received with a shout of laughter by the Englishmen, high above which rose a wild cheer of joy from Benjy. Amalatok swallowed his warlike spirit, laid aside his spear, and seized his paddle. Chingatok gave the signal to advance, and, a few minutes later, those warriors of the north—those fierce savages who, probably for centuries, had been sworn hereditary foes—were seated round the igloe-lamps, amicably smearing their fingers and faces with fat, as they feasted together on chops of the walrus and cutlets of the polar bear.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
The Great Discovery
Friendly relations having been established between the Flatlanders and the Poloese, both nations turned their attention to the arts of peace.
Among other things, Captain Vane and his party devoted themselves once more, with renewed energy, to the pursuit of discovery and scientific investigation. An expedition was planned to Great Isle, not now for the purpose of consulting Makitok, the oracle, as to the best time for going to war, but to gratify the wishes of Captain Vane, who had the strongest reason for believing that he was in the immediate neighbourhood of the Pole.
“Blackbeard says he must be very near nothing now,” observed Chingatok to Anders the day after their arrival.
“Near nothing!” exclaimed Teyma, who was sitting close by.
Of course the giant explained, and the premier looked incredulous.
“I wish I had not left my sextant behind me in the hurry of departure,” said the Captain that evening to Leo. “But we came off in such hot haste that I forgot it. However, I’ll ask Amalatok to send a young man back for it. I’m persuaded we cannot now be more than a few miles distant from our goal.”
“I quite agree with you, uncle, for when I looked at the north star last night it seemed to me as directly in the zenith as it was possible to imagine.”
“Ay, lad; but the unaided eye is deceptive. A few miles of difference cannot be distinguished by it. When did the Pole star become visible?”
“Only last night; I fancied I had made it out the night before, but was not quite sure, the daylight, even at the darkest hour, being still too intense to let many of the stars be seen.”
“Well, we shall see. I am of opinion that we are still between twenty and forty miles south of the Pole. Meanwhile, I’ll induce Teyma to get up an expedition to the island of this Maki-what?”
“Tok,” said Leo; “Makitok. Everything almost ends in tok or tuk hereabouts.”
“Who, and what, is this man?” asked the Captain.
“No one seems to know precisely. His origin has been lost in the mists of antiquity. His first forefather—so tradition styles him—seems, like Melchisedec, to have had no father or mother, and to have come from no one knows where. Anyhow he founded a colony in Great Isle, and Makitok is the present head of all the families.”
Leo then explained about the mystery-thing called buk, which was wrapped up in innumerable pieces of sealskin.
“Strange,” said the Captain, “passing strange. All you tell me makes me the more anxious to visit this man of the valley. You say there is no chance of Grabantak being able to take the reins of government again for a long time?”
“None. He has got a shake that will keep him helpless for some time to come. And this is well, for Teyma will be ready to favour any project that tends towards peace or prosperity.”
Now, while preparations for the northern expedition were being made, our friend Oolichuk went a-wooing. And this is the fashion in which he did it.
Arraying himself one day, like any other lovesick swain, in his best, he paid a ceremonial visit to Oblooria, who lived with Merkut, the wife of Grabantak, in a hut at the eastern suburb of the village. Oolichuk’s costume was simple, if not elegant. It consisted of an undercoat of bird-skins, with the feathers inwards; bearskin pantaloons with the hair out; an upper coat of the grey seal; dogskin socks and sealskin boots.
That young Eskimo did not visit his bride empty-handed. He carried a bundle containing a gift—skins of the young eider-duck to make an undergarment for his lady-love, two plump little auks with which to gratify her palate, and a bladder of oil to wash them down and cause her heart to rejoice.
Good fortune favoured this brave man, for he met Oblooria at a lonely part of the shore among the boulders.
Romance lies deep in the heart of an Eskimo—so deep that it is not perceptible to the naked eye. Whatever the Poloe warrior and maiden felt, they took care not to express in words. But Oolichuk looked unutterable things, and invited Oblooria to dine then and there. The lady at once assented with a bashful smile, and sat down on a boulder. Oolichuk sat down beside her, and presented the bundle of under-clothing.
While the lady was examining this with critical eyes, the gentleman prepared the food. Taking one of the auks, he twisted off its head, put his forefinger under the integuments of the neck, drew the skin down backwards, and the bird was skinned. Then he ran his long thumb-nail down the breast and sliced off a lump, which he presented to the lady with the off-hand air of one who should say, “If you don’t want it you may let it alone!”
Raw though the morsel was, Oblooria accepted it with a pleased look, and ate it with relish. She also accepted the bladder, and, putting it to her lips, pledged him in a bumper of oil.
Oolichuk continued this process until the first auk was finished. He then treated the second bird in the same manner, and assisted his lady-love to consume it, as well as the remainder of the oil. Conversation did not flow during the first part of the meal, but, after having drunk deeply, their lips were opened and the feast of reason began. It consisted chiefly of a running commentary by the man on the Kablunets and their ways, and appreciative giggles on the part of the woman; but they were interrupted at the very commencement by the sudden appearance of one of the Kablunets sauntering towards them.
They rose instantly and rambled away in opposite directions, absorbed in contemplation—the one of the earth, and the other of the sky.
Three days after that, Captain Vane and his party approached the shores of Great Isle. It was low like the other islands of Flatland, but of greater extent, insomuch that its entire circumference could not be seen from its highest central point. Like the other islands it was quite destitute of trees, but the low bush was luxuriantly dense, and filled, they were told, with herds of reindeer and musk-oxen. Myriads of wild-fowl—from the lordly swan to the twittering sandpiper—swarmed among its sedgy lakelets, while grouse and ptarmigan were to be seen in large flocks on its uplands. The land was clothed in mosses and grasses of the richest green, and decked with variegated wild-flowers and berries.
The voyagers were received with deep interest and great hospitality by the inhabitants of the coast, who, it seemed, never quarrelled with the neighbouring islanders or went to war.
Makitok dwelt in the centre of the island. Thither they therefore went the following day.
It was afternoon when they came to the valley in which dwelt the angekok, or, as Red Indians would have styled him, the medicine-man.
It was a peculiar valley. Unlike other vales it had neither outlet or inlet, but was a mere circular basin or depression of vast extent, the lowest part of which was in its centre. The slope towards the centre was so gradual that the descent was hardly perceived, yet Captain Vane could not resist the conviction that the lowest part of the vale must be lower than the surface of the sea.
The rich luxuriance of herbage in Great Isle seemed to culminate in this lovely vale. At the centre and lowest part of the valley, Makitok, or rather Makitok’s forefathers, had built their dwelling. It was a hut, resembling the huts of the Eskimos. No other hut was to be seen. The angekok loved solitude.
Beside the hut there stood a small truncated cone about fifteen feet high, on the summit of which sat an old white-bearded man, who intently watched the approaching travellers.
“Behold—Makitok!” said Teyma as they drew near.
The old man did not move. He appeared to be over eighty years of age, and, unlike Eskimos in general, had a bushy snow-white beard. The thin hair on his head was also white, and his features were good.
Our travellers were not disappointed with this strange recluse, who received them with an air of refinement and urbanity so far removed from Eskimo manners and character, that Captain Vane felt convinced he must be descended from some other branch of the human family. Makitok felt and expressed a degree of interest in the objects of the expedition which had not been observed in any Eskimo, except Chingatok, and he was intelligent and quick of perception far before most of those who surrounded him.
“And what have you to say about yourself?” asked the captain that evening, after a long animated conversation on the country and its productions.
“I have little to say,” replied the old man, sadly. “There is no mystery about my family except its beginning in the long past.”
“But is not all mystery in the long past?” asked the Captain.
“True, my son, but there is a difference in my mystery. Other Eskimos can trace back from son to father till they get confused and lost, as if surrounded by the winter-fogs. But when I trace back—far back—I come to one man—my first father, who had no father, it is said, and who came no one knows from where. My mind is not confused or lost; it is stopped!”
“Might not the mystery-bundle that you call buk explain matters?” asked Alf.
When this was translated, the old man for the first time looked troubled.
“I dare not open it,” he said in an undertone, as if speaking to himself. “From father to son we have held it sacred. It must grow—ever grow—never diminish!”
“It’s a pity he looks at it in that light,” remarked Leo to Benjy, as they lay down to sleep that night. “I have no doubt that the man whom he styles first father wrapped up the thing, whatever it is, to keep it safe, not to make a mystery of it, and that his successors, having begun with a mistaken view, have now converted the re-wrapping of the bundle by each successive heir into a sacred obligation. However, we may perhaps succeed in overcoming the old fellow’s prejudices. Good-night, Benjy.”
A snore from Benjy showed that Leo’s words had been thrown away, so, with a light laugh, he turned over, and soon joined his comrade in the land of dreams.
For two weeks the party remained on Great Isle, hunting, shooting, fishing, collecting, and investigating; also, we may add, astonishing the natives.
During that period many adventures of a more or less exciting nature befell them, which, however, we must pass over in silence. At the end of that time, the youth who had been sent for the Captain’s sextant and other philosophical instruments arrived with them all—thermometers, barometers, chronometers, wind and water gauges, pendulums, etcetera, safe and sound.
As the instruments reached Cup Valley, (so Benjy had styled Makitok’s home), in the morning, it was too early for taking trustworthy observations. The Captain therefore employed the time in erecting an observatory. For this purpose he selected, with Makitok’s permission, the truncated cone close to the recluse’s dwelling. Here, after taking formal possession and hoisting the Union Jack, he busied himself, in a state of subdued excitement, preparing for the intended observations.
“I’ll fix the latitude and longitude in a few hours,” he said. “Meantime, Leo, you and Benjy had better go off with the rifle and fetch us something good for dinner.”
Leo and Benjy were always ready to go a-hunting. They required no second bidding, but were soon rambling over the slopes or wading among the marshes of the island in pursuit of game.
Leo carried his repeater; Benjy the shot-gun. Both wore native Eskimo boots as long as the leg, which, being made of untanned hide, are, when soaked, thoroughly waterproof.4
Oolichuk and Butterface carried the game-bags, and these were soon filled with such game as was thought best for food. Sending them back to camp with orders to empty the bags and return, Leo and Benjy took to the uplands in search of nobler game. It was not difficult to find. Soon a splendid stag was shot by Leo and a musk-ox by Benjy.
Not long after this, the bag-bearers returned.
“You shoots mos’ awful well, Massas,” said Butterface; “but it’s my ’pinion dat you bof better go home, for Captain Vane he go mad!”
“What d’you mean, Butterface?” asked Leo.
“I mean dat de Capp’n he’s hoed mad, or suffin like it, an’ Massa Alf not mush better.”
A good deal amused and surprised by the negro’s statement, the two hunters hastened back to Makitok’s hut, where they indeed found Captain Vane in a state of great excitement.
“Well, uncle, what’s the news?” asked Leo; “found your latitude higher than you expected?”
“Higher!” exclaimed the Captain, seizing his nephew by both hands and shaking them. “Higher! I should think so—couldn’t be higher. There’s neither latitude nor longitude here, my boy! I’ve found it! Come—come up, and I’ll show you the exact spot—the North Pole itself!”
He dragged Leo to the top of the truncated cone on which he had pitched his observatory.
“There, look round you,” he cried, taking off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow.
“Well, uncle, where is it?” asked Leo, half-amused and half-sceptical.
“Where! why, don’t you see it? No, of course you don’t. You’re looking all round it, lad. Look down,—down at your feet. Leonard Vandervell,” he added, in sudden solemnity, “you’re on it! you’re standing on the North Pole now!”
Leo still looked incredulous.
“What I you don’t believe? Convince him, Alf.”
“Indeed it is true,” said Alf; “we have been testing and checking our observations in every possible manner, and the result never varies more than a foot or two. The North Pole is at this moment actually under our feet.”
As we have now, good reader, at last reached that great point of geographical interest which has so long perplexed the world and agitated enterprising man, we deem this the proper place to present you with a map of Captain Vane’s discoveries.
“And so,” said Benjy with an injured look, “the geography books are right after all; the world is ‘a little flattened at the Poles like an orange.’ Well, I never believed it before, and I don’t believe yet that it’s like an orange.”
“But it is more than flattened, Benjy,” said Leo; “don’t you see it is even hollowed out a little, as if the spinning of the world had made a sort of whirlpool at the North Pole, and no doubt there is the same at the South.”
Chingatok, who was listening to the conversation, without of course understanding it, and to whom the Captain had made sundry spasmodic remarks during the day in the Eskimo tongue, went that night to Amalatok, who was sitting in Makitok’s hut, and said—
“My father, Blackbeard has found it!”
“Found what, my son?—his nothing—his Nort Pole?”
“Yes, my father, he has found his Nort Pole.”
“Is he going to carry it away with him in his soft wind-boat?” asked the old chief with a half-humorous, half-contemptuous leer.
“And,” continued Chingatok, who was too earnest about the matter to take notice of his father’s levity, “his Nort Pole is something after all! It is not nothing, for I heard him say he is standing on it. No man can stand on nothing; therefore his Nort Pole which he stands on must be something.”
“He is standing on my outlook. He must not carry that away,” remarked Makitok with a portentous frown.
“Boh!” exclaimed Amalatok, rising impatiently. “I will not listen to the nonsense of Blackbeard. Have I not heard him say that the world stands on nothing, spins on nothing, and rolls continually round the sun? How can anything spin on nothing? And as to the sun, use your own eyes. Do you not see that for a long time it rolls round the world, for a long time it rolls in a circle above us, and for a long time it rolls away altogether, leaving us all in darkness? My son, these Kablunets are ignorant fools, and you are not much better for believing them. Boo! I have no patience with the nonsense talk of Blackbeard.”
