The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole

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!

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.