CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
ARRIVAL IN POLOELAND.
Fortune, which had hitherto proved favourable to our brave explorers,did not desert them at the eleventh hour.
Soon after their arrival at Refuge Island a fair wind sprang up from thesouth, and when the _Charity_ had been carefully patched and repaired,the kites were sent up and the voyage was continued. That day and nightthey spent again upon the boundless sea, for the island was soon leftout of sight behind them, though the wind was not very fresh.
Towards morning it fell calm altogether, obliging them to haul down thekites and take to the oars.
"It can't be far off now, Chingatok," said the Captain, who becamerather impatient as the end drew near.
"Not far," was the brief reply.
"Land ho!" shouted Benjy, about half-an-hour after that.
But Benjy was forced to admit that anxiety had caused him to take aniceberg on the horizon for land.
"Well, anyhow you must admit," said Benjy, on approaching the berg,"that it's big enough for a fellow to mistake it for a mountain. Iwonder what it's doing here without any brothers or sisters to keep itcompany."
"Under-currents brought it here, lad," said the Captain. "You see, sucha monster as that must go very deep down, and the warm under-current hasnot yet melted away enough of his base to permit the surface-current tocarry him south like the smaller members of his family. He is stilltravelling north, but that won't last long. He'll soon become smallenough to put about and go the other way. I never saw a bigger fellowthan that, Benjy. Hayes, the American, mentions one which he measured,about 315 feet high, and nearly a mile long. It had been grounded fortwo years. He calculated that there must have been seven times as muchof it below water as there was above, so that it was stranded in nearlyhalf-a-mile depth of water. This berg cannot be far short of that onein size."
"Hm! probably then his little brothers and sisters are being now crushedto bits in Baffin's Bay," said Benjy.
"Not unlikely, Ben, if they've not already been melted in the Atlantic,which will be this one's fate at last--sooner or later."
From a pool on this berg they obtained a supply of pure fresh water.
When our explorers did at last sight the land it came upon themunexpectedly, in the form of an island so low that they were quite closebefore observing it. The number of gulls hovering above it might havesuggested its presence, but as these birds frequently hover in largeflocks over shoals of small fish, little attention was paid to them.
"Is this your native land, Chingatok?" asked the Captain, quickly.
"No, it is over there," said the Eskimo, pointing to the distanthorizon; "this is the first of the islands."
As they gazed they perceived a mountain-shaped cloud so faint and faraway that it had almost escaped observation. Advancing slowly, thiscloud was seen to take definite form and colour.
"I _knew_ it was!" said Benjy, "but was afraid of making anothermistake."
Had the boy or his father looked attentively at the giant just then,they would have seen that his colour deepened, his eyes glittered, andhis great chest heaved a little more than was its wont, as he lookedover his shoulder while labouring at the oars. Perhaps we should havesaid played with the oars, for they were mere toys in his grasp.Chingatok's little mother also was evidently affected by the sight ofhome. But the Captain and his son saw it not--they were too muchoccupied with their own thoughts and feelings. To the Englishmen thesight of land roused only one great all-engrossing thought--the NorthPole! which, despite the absurdity of the idea, _would_ present itselfin the form of an upright post of terrific magnitude--a worthyaxle-tree, as it were, for the world to revolve upon. To the big Eskimoland presented itself in the form of a palatial stone edifice measuringfifteen feet by twelve, with a dear pretty little wife choking herselfin the smoke of a cooking-lamp, and a darling little boy choking himselfwith a mass of walrus blubber. Thus the same object, when presented todifferent minds, suggested ideas that were:
"Diverse as calm from thunder, Wide as the poles asunder."
It was midnight when the boats drew near to land. The island in whichstood the giant's humble home seemed to Captain Vane not more than eightor ten miles in extent, and rose to a moderate height--apparently aboutfive or six hundred feet. It was picturesque in form and composed ofrugged rocks, the marks on which, and the innumerable boulderseverywhere, showed that at some remote period of the world's history, ithad been subjected to the influence of glacial action. No glacier wasvisible now, however--only, on the rocky summit lay a patch or two ofthe last winter's snow-drift, which was too deep for the summer sun tomelt away. From this storehouse of water gushed numerous tiny rivuletswhich brawled cheerily rather than noisily among the rocks, watering therich green mosses and grasses which abounded in patches everywhere, andgiving life to countless wild-flowers and berries which decked andenriched the land.
Just off the island--which by a strange coincidence the inhabitants hadnamed Poloe--there were hundreds of other islets of every shape andsize, but nearly all of them low, and many flat and swampy--thebreeding-grounds of myriads of waterfowl. There were lakelets in manyof these isles, in the midst of which were still more diminutive islets,whose moss-covered rocks and fringing sedges were reflected in thecrystal water. Under a cliff on the main island stood the Eskimovillage, a collection of stone huts, bathed in the slanting light of themidnight sun.
But no sound issued from these huts or from the neighbouring islands.It was the period of rest for man and bird. Air, earth, and water werelocked in profound silence and repose.
"We've got to Paradise at last, father," was the first sound that brokethe silence, if we except the gentle dip of the oars and the ripplingwater on the bow.
"Looks like it, Benjy," replied the Captain.
A wakeful dog on shore was the first to scent the coming strangers. Hegave vent to a low growl. It was the keynote to the canine choir, whichimmediately sent up a howl of discord. Forthwith from every hut thereleaped armed men, anxious women, and terrified children, which latterrushed towards the cliffs or took refuge among the rocks.
"Hallo! Chingatok, your relations are not to be taken by surprise,"said the Captain--or something to that effect--in Eskimo.
The giant shook his head somewhat gravely.
"They must be at war," he said.
"At war! whom with?"
"With the Neerdoowulls," replied Chingatok with a frown. "They arealways giving us trouble."
"Not badly named, father," said Benjy; "one would almost think they mustbe of Scotch extraction."
At that moment the natives--who had been gesticulating wildly andbrandishing spears and bone knives with expressions of fury that denoteda strong desire on their part to carve out the hearts and transfix thelivers of the newcomers--suddenly gave vent to a shout of surprise,which was succeeded by a scream of joy. Chingatok had stood up in theboat and been recognised. The giant's dog--an appropriately large one--had been the first to observe him, and expressed its feelings by waggingits tail to such an extent that its hind legs had difficulty in keepingthe ground.
Immediately on landing, the party was surrounded by a clamorous crew,who, to do them justice, took very little notice of the strangers, sooverjoyed were they at the return of their big countryman.
Soon a little pleasant though flattish-faced woman pushed through thecrowd and seized the giant. This was his wife Pingasuk, or Pretty One.She was _petite_--not much larger than Oblooria the timid. The betterto get at her, Chingatok went down on his knees, seized her by theshoulders, and rubbed her nose against his so vigorously that thesmaller nose bid fair to come off altogether. He had to stoop stilllower when a stout urchin of about five years of age came up behind himand tried to reach his face.
"Meltik!" exclaimed the giant, rubbing noses gently for fear of damaginghim, "you are stout and fat, my son, you have been eating much blubber--good."
At that moment Chingatok's eyes fell on an object w
hich had hithertoescaped his observation. It was a little round yellow head in hiswife's hood, with a pair of small black eyes which stared at him inblank surprise. He made a snatch at it and drew forth--a naked baby!
"Our girlie," said the wife, with a pleased but anxious look; "don'tsqueeze. She is very young and tender--like a baby seal."
The glad father tried to fold the creature to his bosom; nearly droppedit in his excess of tender caution; thrust it hastily back into hiswife's hood, and rose to give a respectful greeting to an aged man witha scrubby white beard, who came forward at the moment.
"Who are these, my son?" asked the old man, pointing to the Englishmen,who, standing in a group with amused expressions, watched the meetingabove described.
"These are the Kablunets, father. I met them, as I expected, in thefar-off land. The poor creatures were wandering about in a great kayak,which they have lost, searching for _nothing_!"
"Searching for nothing! my son, that cannot be. It is not possible tosearch for nothing--at least it is not possible to find it."
"But that is what they come here for," persisted Chingatok; "they callit the Nort Pole."
"And what is the Nort Pole, my son?"
"It is nothing, father."
The old man looked at his stately son with something of anxiety mingledwith his surprise.
"Has Chingatok become a fool, like the Kablunets, since he left home?"he asked in a low voice.
"Chingatok is not sure," replied the giant, gravely. "He has seen somuch to puzzle him since he went away, that he sometimes feels foolish."
The old Eskimo looked steadily at his son for a few moments, and shookhis head.
"I will speak to these men--these foolish men," he said. "Do theyunderstand our language?"
"Some of them understand and speak a little, father, but they have withthem one named Unders, who interprets. Come here, Unders."
Anders promptly stepped to the front and interpreted, while the oldEskimo put Captain Vane through an examination of uncommon length andseverity. At the close of it he shook his head with profound gravity,and turned again to his son.
"You have indeed brought to us a set of fools, Chingatok. Your voyageto the far-off lands has not been very successful. These men wantsomething that they do not understand; that they could not see if it wasbefore them; that they cannot describe when they talk about it, and thatthey could not lay hold of if they had it."
"Yes, father," sighed Chingatok, "it is as I told you--nothing; only theNort Pole--a mere name."
A new light seemed to break in on Chingatok as he said this, for headded quickly, "But, father, a name is _something_--my name, Chingatok,is something, yet it is nothing. You cannot see it, you do not lay holdof it, yet it is there."
"Toohoo! my son, that is so, no doubt, but your name describes _you_,and you are something. No one ever goes to a far-off land to search fora _name_. If this Nort Pole is only a name and not a _thing_, how canit _be_?" exclaimed the old man, turning on his heel and marching off ina paroxysm of metaphysical disgust.
He appeared to change his mind, however, for, turning abruptly back, hesaid to Anders, "Tell these strangers that I am glad to see them; that ahouse and food shall be given to them, and that they are welcome toPoloe. Perhaps their land--the far-off land--is a poor one; they maynot have enough to eat. If so, they may stay in this rich land of mineto hunt and fish as long as they please. But tell them that the Eskimoslove wise men, and do not care for foolishness. They must not talk anymore about this search after nothing--this Nort Pole--this nonsense--huk!"
Having delivered himself of these sentiments with much dignity, the oldman again turned on his heel with a regal wave of the hand, and marchedup to his hut.
"That must be the King of Poloe," whispered Captain Vane to Leo,endeavouring to suppress a smile at the concluding caution, as theyfollowed Anders and one of the natives to the hut set apart for them.
The Captain was only half right. Amalatok was indeed the chief of theisland, but the respect and deference shown to him by the tribe wereowing more to the man's age and personal worth, than to his rank. Hehad succeeded his father as chief of the tribe, and, during a long life,had led his people in council, at the hunt, and in war, with consummateability and success. Although old, he still held the reins of power,chiefly because his eldest son and rightful successor--Chingatok's elderbrother--was a weak-minded man of little capacity and somewhat malignantdisposition. If our giant had been his eldest, he would have resignedcheerfully long ago. As it was, he did not see his way to change thecustoms of the land, though he could not tell when, or by whom, or underwhat circumstances, the order of succession had been established.Probably, like many other antiquated customs, it had been originally theresult of despotism on the part of men in power, and of stupidacquiescence on the part of an unthinking people.
On reaching his hut the old chief sat down, and, leaning carelesslyagainst the wall, he toyed with a bit of walrus rib, as an Englishmanmight with a pair of nut-crackers at dessert.
"Why did you bring these barbarians here?"
"I did not bring them, father, they brought me," said the son with adeprecating glance.
"Huk!" exclaimed the chief, after which he added, "hum!"
It was evident that he had received new light, and was meditatingthereon.
"My son," continued Amalatok, "these Kablunets seem to be stout-bodiedfellows; can they fight--are they brave?"
"They are brave, father, very brave. Even the little one, whom theycall Bunjay, is brave--also, he is funny. I have never seen theKablunets fight with men, but they fight well with the bear and thewalrus and the ice. They are not such fools as you seem to think.True, about this nothing--this Nort Pole--they are quite mad, but inother matters they are very wise and knowing, as you shall see beforelong."
"Good, good," remarked the old chief, flinging the walrus rib at anintrusive dog with signal success, "I am glad to hear you say that,because I may want their help."
Amalatok showed one symptom of true greatness--a readiness to divesthimself of prejudice.
"For what do you require their help, father?" asked Chingatok.
Instead of answering, the old chief wrenched off another walrus rib fromits native backbone, and began to gnaw it growlingly, as if it were hisenemy and he a dog.
"My father is disturbed in his mind," said the giant in a sympathisingtone.
Even a less observant man than Chingatok might have seen that the oldchief was not only disturbed in mind, but also in body, for his featurestwitched convulsively, and his face grew red as he thought of hiswrongs.
"Listen," said Amalatok, flinging the rib at another intrusive dog,again with success, and laying his hand impressively on his son's arm."My enemy, Grabantak--that bellowing walrus, that sly seal, thatempty-skulled puffin, that porpoise, cormorant, narwhal--s-s-sus!"
The old man set his teeth and hissed.
"Well, my father?"
"It is not well, my son. It is all ill. That marrowless bear isstirring up his people, and there is no doubt that we shall soon beagain engaged in a bloody--a _useless_ war."
"What is it all about, father?"
"About!--about nothing."
"Huk! about Nort Pole--nothing," murmured Chingatok--his thoughtsdiverted by the word.
"No, it is worse than Nort Pole, worse than nothing," returned the chiefsternly; "it is a small island--very small--so small that a seal wouldnot have it for a breathing-place. Nothing on it; no moss, no grass.Birds won't stay there--only fly over it and wink with contempt. YetGrabantak says he must have it--it is within the bounds of _his_ land!"
"Well, let him have it, if it be so worthless," said Chingatok, mildly.
"Let him have it!" shouted the chief, starting up with such violence asto overturn the cooking-lamp--to which he paid no regard whatever--andstriding about the small hut savagely, "no, never! I will fight him tothe last gasp; kill all his men; slay his women; drown his children;level his hu
ts; burn up his meat--"
Amalatok paused and glared, apparently uncertain about the propriety ofwasting good meat. The pause gave his wrath time to cool.
"At all events," he continued, sitting down again and wrenching offanother rib, "we must call a council and have a talk, for we may expecthim soon. When you arrived we took you for our enemies."
"And you were ready for us," said Chingatok, with an approving smile.
"Huk!" returned the chief with a responsive nod. "Go, Chingatok, call acouncil of my braves for to--night, and see that these miserablestarving Kablunets have enough of blubber wherewith to stuffthemselves."
Our giant did not deem it worth while to explain to his rather petulantfather that the Englishmen were the reverse of starving, but he felt theimportance of raising them in the old chief's opinion without delay, andtook measures accordingly.
"Blackbeard," he said, entering the Captain's hut and sitting down witha troubled air, "my father does not think much of you. Tell him that,Unders."
"I understand you well enough, Chingatok; go on, and let me know why theold man does not think well of me."
"He thinks you are a fool," returned the plain spoken Eskimo.
"H'm! I'm not altogether surprised at that, lad. I've sometimesthought so myself. Well, I suppose you've come to give me some goodadvice to make me wiser--eh! Chingatok?"
"Yes, that is what I come for. Do what I tell you, and my father willbegin to think you wise."
"Ah, yes, the old story," remarked Benjy, who was an amused listener--for his father translated in a low tone for the benefit of hiscompanions as the conversation proceeded--"the same here as everywhere--Do as I tell you and all will be well!"
"Hold your tongue, Ben," whispered Alf.
"Well, what am I to do?" asked the Captain.
"Invite my father to a feast," said Chingatok eagerly, "and me too, andmy mother too; also my wife, and some of the braves with their wives.And you must give us biskit an'--what do you call that brown stuff?"
"Coffee," suggested the Captain.
"Yes, cuffy, also tee, and shoogre, and seal st- ate--what?"
"Steak--eh?"
"Yes, stik, and cook them all in the strange lamp. You must ask us tosee the feast cooked, and then we will eat it."
It will be observed that when Chingatok interpolated English words inhis discourse his pronunciation was not perfect.
"Well, you are the coolest fellow I've met with for many a day! Toorder a feast, invite yourself to it, name the rest of the company, aswell as the victuals, and insist on seeing the cooking of the same,"said the Captain in English; then, in Eskimo,--"Well, Chingatok, I willdo as you wish. When would you like supper?"
"Now," replied the giant, with decision.
"You hear, Butterface," said the Captain when he had translated, "go towork and get your pots and pans ready. See that you put your best footforemost. It will be a turning-point, this feast, I see."
Need we say that the feast was a great success? The wives, highlypleased at the attention paid them by the strangers, were won over atonce. The whole party, when assembled in the hut, watched with the mostindescribable astonishment the proceedings of the negro--himself aliving miracle--as he manipulated a machine which, in separatecompartments, cooked steaks and boiled tea, coffee, or anything else, bymeans of a spirit lamp in a few minutes. On first tasting the hotliquids they looked at each other suspiciously; then as the sugartickled their palates, they smiled, tilted their pannikins, drained themto the dregs, and asked for more!
The feast lasted long, and was highly appreciated. When the companyretired--which did not happen until the Captain declared he had nothingmore to give them, and turned the cooking apparatus upside down to provewhat he said--there was not a man or woman among them who did not holdand even loudly assert that the Kablunets were wise men.
After the feast the council of war was held and the strangers wereallowed to be present. There was a great deal of talk--probably some ofit was not much to the point, but there was no interruption orundignified confusion. There was a peace-party, of course, and awar-party, but the latter prevailed. It too often does so in humanaffairs. Chingatok was understood to favour the peace-party, but as hissire was on the other side, respect kept him tongue-tied.
"These Eskimos reverence age and are respectful to women," whispered Leoto Alf, "so we may not call them savages."
The old chief spoke last, summing up the arguments, as it were, on bothsides, and giving his reasons for favouring war.
"The island is of no use," he said; "it is not worth a seal's nose, yetGrabantak wishes to tear it from us--us who have possessed it since theforgotten times. Why is this? because he wishes to insult us," ("huk!"from the audience). "Shall we submit to insult? shall we sit down likefrightened birds and see the black-livered cormorant steal what is ours?shall the courage of the Poloes be questioned by all the surroundingtribes? Never! while we have knives in our boots and spears in ourhands. We will fight till we conquer or till we are all dead--till ourwives are husbandless and our children fatherless, and all our stores ofmeat and oil are gone!" ("huk! huk!") "Then shall it be said bysurrounding tribes, `Behold! how brave were the Poloes! they died andleft their wives and little children to perish, or mourn in slavery,rather than submit to insult!'"
The "huks" that greeted the conclusion of the speech were so loud andnumerous that the unfortunate peace-makers were forced to hide theirdiminished heads.
Thus did Amalatok resolve to go to war for "worse than Nort Pole--fornothing"--rather than submit to insult! (See Note 1.)
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Note 1. It may not be inappropriate here to point out that Eskimosavages are sometimes equalled, if not surpassed, in this respect, bycivilised and even Christian nations.