The World of Ice Part 22

Awatok now whispered to his comrades, and attempted to get them to understand that they must follow him as fast as possible at the next run. Suddenly the walrus dived. Awatok rushed forward, and in another instant stood at the edge of the hole with his spear in readiness in his right hand and the coil of line in his left. The others joined him instantly, and they had scarcely come up when the huge monster again rose to the surface.

Saunders and Buzzby fired at his head the moment it appeared above water, and Awatok at the same time planted a spear in his breast, and ran back with the coil. The others danced about in an excited state, throwing their spears and missing their mark, although it was a big one, frequently.

"Give him a lance-thrust, Amos," cried Saunders, reloading his piece.

But Amos could not manage it, for the creature lashed about so furiously that, although he made repeated attempts, he failed to do more than p.r.i.c.k its tough sides and render it still more savage. Buzzby, too, made several daring efforts to lance it, but failed, and nearly slipped into the hole in his recklessness. It was a wild scene of confusion--the spray was dashed over the ice round the hole, and the men, as they ran about in extreme excitement, slipped and occasionally tumbled in their haste; while the maddened brute glared at them like a fiend, and bellowed in its anger and pain.

Suddenly it dived, leaving the men staring at each other. The sudden cessation of noise and turmoil had a very strange effect.

"Is't away?" inquired Saunders, with a look of chagrin.

He was answered almost instantly by the walrus reappearing, and making furious efforts by means of its flippers and tusks to draw itself out upon the ice, while it roared with redoubled energy. The shot that was instantly fired seemed to have no effect, and the well-directed harpoon of Awatok was utterly disregarded by it. Amos Parr, however, gave it a lance-thrust that caused it to howl vehemently, and dyed the foam with its blood.

"Hand me a spear, Buzzby," cried Saunders; "the musket-b.a.l.l.s seem to hurt him as little as peas. Oot o' my gait."

The second mate made a rush so tremendous that something awful would infallibly have resulted, had he not struck his foot against a bit of ice and fallen violently on his breast. The impetus with which he had started shot him forward till his head was within a foot of the walrus's grim muzzle. For one moment the animal looked at the man, as if it were surprised at his audacity, and then it recommenced its frantic struggles, snorting blood, and foam, and water into Saunders's face as he scrambled out of its way. Immediately after, Awatok fixed another harpoon in its side, and it dived again.

The struggle that ensued was tremendous, and the result seemed for a long time to be doubtful. Again and again shots were fired and spear-thrusts made with effect, but the huge creature seemed invulnerable. Its ferocity and strength remained unabated, while the men--sailors and Esquimau alike--were nearly exhausted. The battle had now lasted three hours; the men were panting from exertion; the walrus, still bellowing, was clinging to the edge of the ice, which for several yards round the hole was covered with blood and foam.

"Wot a brute it is!" said Buzzby, sitting down on a lump of ice and looking at it in despair.

"We might have killed it lang ago had I not wet my gun," growled Saunders, regarding his weapon, which was completely drenched, with a look of contempt.

"Give it another poke, Awatok," cried Amos Parr; "you'll know best whereabouts its life lies; I can make nothin' o't."

Awatok obeyed, and gave it a thrust under the left flipper that seemed to reach its heart, for it fell back into the water and struggled violently. At the same moment Davie Summers mounted to the top of a hummock, part of which overhung the pool, and launched a harpoon down upon its back. This latter blow seemed to revive its ferocity, for it again essayed to clamber out on the ice, and looked up at Davie with a glance of seeming indignation; while Buzzby, who had approached, fell backward as he retreated from before it. At the same time Saunders succeeded in getting his musket to go off. The ball struck it in the eye, and entering the brain, caused instant death, a result which was greeted with three enthusiastic cheers.

The getting of this enormous creature out of the water would have been a matter of no small difficulty had there not been such a large party present. Even as it was it took them a considerable time to accomplish this feat, and to cut it up and pack it on the sledges.

While the battle above described was going on, two smaller walruses had been killed and secured, and the Esquimaux were in a state of great glee, for previous to the arrival of the sailors they had been unsuccessful in their hunts, and had been living on short allowance. On returning home there was a general feasting and merrymaking, and Saunders felt that if he remained there long they would not only eat up their own meat, but his also. He therefore resolved to return immediately to the s.h.i.+p with his prize, and leave part of his men behind to continue the hunt until he should return with the sledge.

But he was prevented from putting this intention into practice by a hurricane which burst over the Arctic Regions with inconceivable bitterness, and for two days kept all the inhabitants of the snow-village confined to their huts. This hurricane was the fiercest that had swept over these bleak regions of ice since the arrival of the _Dolphin_. The wind shrieked as it swept round the cliffs, and down the ravines, and out upon the frozen sea, as if a legion of evil spirits were embodied and concentrated in each succeeding blast. The snow-drift rose in solid ma.s.ses, whirled madly round for a few seconds, and then was caught by the blast and swept away like sheets of white flame. The thermometer stood at 25 below zero, a temperature that was mild compared with what it usually had been of late, but the fierce wind abstracted heat from everything exposed to it so rapidly that neither man nor beast could face it for a moment. Buzzby got a little bit of his chin frozen while he merely put his head out at the door of the hut to see how the weather looked; and Davie Summers had one of his fingers slightly frozen while in the act of carrying in one of the muskets that had been left outside by mistake.

As for the Esquimaux, they recked not of the weather. Their snow-huts were warm, and their mouths were full, so like wise men and women they waited patiently within doors till the storm should blow itself out. The doings of these poor people were very curious. They ate voraciously, and evidently preferred their meat raw. But when the sailors showed disgust at this, they at once made a small fire of moss mingled with blubber, over which they half-cooked their food.

Their mode of procuring fire was curious. Two small stones were taken--one a piece of white quartz, the other a piece of iron-stone--and struck together smartly. The few sparks that flew out were thrown upon a kind of white down, found on the willows, under which was placed a lump of dried moss. It was usually a considerable time before they succeeded in catching a spark; but, once caught, they had no difficulty in blowing it into a flame.

They had also an ingenious contrivance for melting snow. This was a flat stone, supported by two other stones, and inclined slightly at one end.

Upon this flat stone a lump of snow was placed, and below it was kindled a small fire of moss and blubber. When the stone became heated, the snow melted and flowed down the incline into a small seal-skin cup placed there to catch it.

During the continuance of the storm the sailors shared the food and lodging of these Esquimaux. They were a fat, oily, hospitable, dirty race, and vied with each other in showing kindness to those who had been thus thrown into their society. As Davie Summers expressed it, "they were regular trumps;" and according to Buzzby's opinion, "they wos the jolliest set o' human walruses wot he had ever comed across in all his travels; and he ought to know, for he had always kep' his weather-eye open, he had, and wouldn't give in on that p'int, he wouldn't, to no man livin'."

CHAPTER XIX.

_The northern party--A narrow escape, and a great discovery--Esquimaux again, and a joyful surprise._

It is interesting to meditate, sometimes, on the deviousness of the paths by which men are led in earthly affairs--even when the starting-point and the object of pursuit are the same. The two parties which left the _Dolphin_ had for their object the procuring of fresh food. The one went south and the other north; but their field was the same--the surface of the frozen sea and the margin of the ice-girt sh.o.r.e. Yet how different their experiences and results were the sequel will show.

As we have already said, the northern party was in command of Bolton, the first mate, and consisted of ten men, among whom were our hero, Fred, Peter Grim, O'Riley, and Meetuck, with the whole team of dogs and the large sledge.

Being fine weather when they set out, they travelled rapidly, making twenty miles, as near as they could calculate, in the first six hours.

The dogs pulled famously, and the men stepped out well at first, being cheered and invigorated mentally by the prospect of an adventurous excursion and fresh meat. At the end of the second day they buried part of their stock of provisions at the foot of a conspicuous cliff, intending to pick it up on their return; and thus lightened, they advanced more rapidly, keeping farther out on the floes, in hopes of falling in with walruses or seals.

Their hopes, however, were doomed to disappointment. They got only one seal, and that was a small one--scarcely sufficient to afford a couple of meals to the dogs.

They were "misfortunate entirely," as O'Riley remarked; and to add to their misfortunes, the floe-ice became so rugged that they could scarcely advance at all.

"Things grow worse and worse," remarked Grim, as the sledge, for the twentieth time that day, plunged into a crack in the ice, and had to be unloaded ere it could be got out. "The sledge won't stand much o' sich work, and if it breaks--good-bye to it, for it won't mend without wood, and there's none here."

"No fear of it," cried Bolton encouragingly; "it's made of material as tough as your own sinews, Grim, and won't give way easily, as the thumps it has withstood already prove.--Has it never struck you, Fred," he continued, turning to our hero who was plodding forward in silence--"has it never struck you that when things in this world get very bad, and we begin to feel inclined to give up, they somehow or other begin to get better?"

"Why, yes, I have noticed that; but I have a vague sort of feeling just now that things are not going to get better. I don't know whether it's this long-continued darkness, or the want of good food, but I feel more downcast than I ever was in my life before."

Bolton's remark had been intended to cheer, but Fred's answer proved that a discussion of the merits of the question was not likely to have a good effect on the men, whose spirits were evidently very much cast down, so he changed the subject.

Fortunately, at that time an incident occurred which effected the mate's purpose better than any efforts man could have made. It has frequently happened that when Arctic voyagers have, from sickness and long confinement during a monotonous winter, become so depressed in spirits that games and amus.e.m.e.nts of every kind bailed to rouse them from their lethargic despondency, sudden danger has given to their minds the needful impulse, and effected a salutary change, for a time at least, in their spirits. Such was the case at the present time. The men were so worn with hard travel and the want of fresh food, and depressed by disappointment and long-continued darkness, that they failed in their attempts to cheer each other, and at length relapsed into moody silence.

Fred's thoughts turned constantly to his father, and he ceased to remark cheerfully, as was his wont, on pa.s.sing objects. Even O'Riley's jests became few and far between, and at last ceased altogether. Bolton alone kept up his spirits, and sought to cheer his men, the feeling of responsibility being, probably, the secret of his superiority over them in this respect. But even Bolton's spirits began to sink at last.

While they were thus groping sadly along among the hummocks, a large fragment of ice was observed to break off from a berg just over their heads.

"Look out! follow me, quick!" shouted the first mate in a loud, sharp voice of alarm, at the same time darting in towards the side of the berg.

The startled men obeyed the order just in time, for they had barely reached the side of the berg when the enormous pinnacle fell, and was shattered into a thousand fragments on the spot they had just left. A rebounding emotion sent the blood in a crimson flood to Fred's forehead, and this was followed by a feeling of grat.i.tude to the Almighty for the preservation of himself and the party. Leaving the dangerous vicinity of the bergs, they afterwards kept more in-sh.o.r.e.

"What can yonder mound be?" said Fred, pointing to an object that was faintly seen at a short distance off upon the bleak sh.o.r.e.

"An Esquimau hut, maybe," replied Grim.--"What think'ee, Meetuck?"

Meetuck shook his head and looked grave, but made no reply.

"Why don't you answer?" said Bolton. "But come along, we'll soon see."

Meetuck now made various ineffectual attempts to dissuade the party from examining the mound, which turned out to be composed of stones heaped upon each other; but as all the conversation of which he was capable failed to enlighten his companions as to what the pile was, they instantly set to work to open a pa.s.sage into the interior, believing that it might contain fresh provisions, as the Esquimaux were in the habit of thus preserving their superabundant food from bears and wolves.

In half-an-hour a hole, large enough for a man to creep through, was formed, and Fred entered, but started back with an exclamation of horror on finding himself in the presence of a human skeleton, which was seated on the ground in the centre of this strange tomb, with its head and arms resting on the knees.

"It must be an Esquimau grave," said Fred, as he retreated hastily; "that must be the reason why Meetuck tried to hinder us."

"I should like to see it," said Grim, stooping and thrusting his head and shoulders into the hole.

"What have you got there?" asked Bolton, as Grim drew back and held up something in his hand.

"Don't know exactly. It's like a bit o' cloth." On examination the article was found to be a shred of coa.r.s.e cloth, of a blue or black colour; and being an unexpected substance to meet with in such a place, Bolton turned round with it to Meetuck in the hope of obtaining some information. But Meetuck was gone. While the sailors were breaking into the grave, Meetuck had stood aloof with a displeased expression of countenance, as if he were angry at the rude desecration of a countryman's tomb; but the moment his eye fell on the shred of cloth an expression of mingled surprise and curiosity crossed his countenance, and, without uttering a word, he slipped noiselessly into the hole, from which he almost immediately issued bearing several articles in his hand.

These he held up to view, and with animated words and gesticulations explained that this was the grave of a white man, not of a native.

The articles he brought out were a pewter plate and a silver table-spoon.