VIII
HIAWATHA'S FISHING
IN his wonderful canoe, Hiawatha sailed over the shining Big-Sea-Water to go fishing and to catch with his fishing-line made of cedar no other than the very King of Fishes—Nahma, the big sturgeon. All alone Hiawatha sailed over the lake, but on the bow of his canoe sat a squirrel, frisking and chattering at the thought of all the wonderful sport that he was going to see. Through the calm, clear water Hiawatha saw the fishes swimming to and fro. First he saw the yellow perch that shone like a sunbeam; then he saw the crawfish moving along the sandy bottom of the lake, and at last he saw a great blue shape that swept the sand floor with its mighty tail and waved its huge fins lazily backward and forward, and Hiawatha knew that this monster was Nahma, the Sturgeon, King of all the Fishes.
"Take my bait!" shouted Hiawatha, dropping his line of cedar into the calm water. "Come up and take my bait, O Nahma, King of Fishes!" But the great fish did not move, although Hiawatha shouted to him over and over again. At last, however, Nahma began to grow tired of the endless shouting, and he said to Maskenozha, the pike: "Take the bait of this rude fellow, Hiawatha, and break his line."
Hiawatha felt the fishing-line tighten with a snap, and as he pulled it in, Maskenozha, the pike, tugged so hard that the canoe stood almost on end, with the squirrel perched on the top; but when Hiawatha saw what fish it was that had taken his bait he was full of scorn and shouted: "Shame upon you! You are not the King of Fishes; you are only the pike, Maskenozha!" and the pike let go of Hiawatha's line and sank back to the bottom, very much ashamed.
Then Nahma said to the sunfish, Ugudwash: "Take Hiawatha's bait, and break his line! I am tired of his shouting and his boasting," and the sunfish rose up through the water like a great white moon. It seized Hiawatha's line and struggled so that the canoe made a whirlpool in the water and rocked until the waves it made splashed upon the beaches at the rim of the lake; but when Hiawatha saw the fish he was very angry and shouted out again: "Oh shame upon you! You are the sunfish, Ugudwash, and you come when I call for Nahma, King of Fishes!" and the sunfish let go of Hiawatha's line and sank to the bottom, where he hid among the lily stems.
Then Nahma, the great sturgeon, heard Hiawatha shouting at him once again, and furious he rose with a swirl to the top of the water; leaped in the air, scattering the spray on every side, and opening his huge jaws he made a rush at the canoe and swallowed Hiawatha, canoe and all.
Into the dark cave of Nahma's giant maw, Hiawatha in his canoe plunged headlong, as a log rushes down a roaring river in the springtime. At first he was frightened, for it was so inky black that he could not see his hand before his face; but at last he felt a great heart beating in the darkness, and he clenched his fist and struck the giant heart with all his strength. As he struck it, he felt Nahma tremble all over, and he heard the water gurgle as the great fish rushed through it trying to breathe, and Hiawatha struck the mighty heart yet another heavy blow.
Then he dragged his canoe crosswise, so that he might not be thrown from the belly of the great fish and be drowned in the swirling water where Nahma was fighting for life, and the little squirrel helped Hiawatha drag his canoe into safety and tugged and pulled bravely at Hiawatha's side. Hiawatha was grateful to the little squirrel, and told him that for a reward the boys should always call him Adjidaumo, which means "tail-in-the-air," and the little squirrel was much pleased.
At last everything became quiet, and Nahma, the great sturgeon, lay dead and drifted on the surface of the water to the shore, where Hiawatha heard him grate upon the pebbles. There was a great screaming and flapping of wings outside, and finally a gleam of light shone to the place where Hiawatha was sitting, and he could see the glittering eyes of the sea-gulls, who had crawled into the open mouth of Nahma and were peering down his gullet. Hiawatha called out to them: "O my Brothers, the Sea-Gulls, I have killed the great King of Fishes, Nahma, the sturgeon. Scratch and tear with your beaks and claws until the opening becomes wider and you can set me free from this dark prison! Do this, and men shall always call you Kayoshk, the sea-gulls, the Noble Scratchers."
The sea-gulls set to work with a will, and scratched and tore at Nahma's ribs until there was an opening wide enough for Hiawatha and the squirrel to step through and to drag the canoe out after them. Hiawatha called Nokomis, pointed to the body of the sturgeon and said: "See, Nokomis, I have killed Nahma, the King of Fishes, and the sea-gulls feed upon him. You must not drive them away, for they saved me from great danger; but when they fly back to their nests at sunset, do you bring your pots and kettles and make from Nahma's flesh enough oil to last us through the winter."
Nokomis waited until sunset, when the sea-gulls had flown back to their homes in the marshes, and she set to work with all her pots and kettles to make yellow oil from the flesh of Nahma. She worked all night long until the sun rose again and the sea-gulls came back screeching and screaming for their breakfast; and for three days and three nights the sea-gulls and Nokomis took turns in stripping the greasy flesh of Nahma from his ribs, until nothing was left. Then the sea-gulls flew away for good and all, Nokomis poured her oil into great jars, and on the sand was only the bare skeleton of Nahma, who had once been the biggest and the strongest fish that ever swam.