A Number of Peculiar People appear, and the Castaways disappear from the Rock of Good Hope.
“We worked away at the sledge as fast as possible, being bent upon having it finished and getting off from the island as quickly as we could.
“At last it was completed, and we dragged it down to the beach and out upon the ice. Finding that it went better than we had dared to expect, we returned to our hut, and, bundling together such of our furs and other things as we thought we should require on the long journey before us, carried them down and stowed them on the sledge. Among them were included one lamp, one pot, and one cup. We could not drag a very heavy load, even if the sledge would bear up under it, so we had to limit ourselves to the least possible allowance of everything. Food was, of course, more important to us than anything else, and of this we determined to take all that we could put upon the sledge with safety.
“All this time we felt very sad, and we worked in a very gloomy spirit. Everything appeared so uncertain before us; the journey we were about to undertake, at first seeming to promise so hopefully, had become a very doubtful undertaking; and, since day after day passed by without bringing the savages upon us, we got to be less afraid of them, and in this same proportion was reduced our confidence in the propriety of leaving the island in this manner for an unknown place, and in utter ignorance as to whether the savage had told us truth about the ships.
“However, as you have seen before, when the Dean and I got an idea in our heads we did not easily abandon it. Once determined to make the trial, we had persevered until we had obtained a sledge; and now, as I have told you, it was already half loaded.
“But we might have saved ourselves all this trouble, as you will soon see.
“While in the very midst of our packing, we were suddenly startled by a loud noise. Looking up from our work, and turning in the direction whence the sound proceeded, there, to our horror and dismay, were the very savages we had been for so long a time expecting. They were just rounding a point of the island, and were nearing us at a rapid pace.
“We soon discovered them to be five in number, each riding upon a sledge, drawn by wild and fierce-looking dogs, that made a great outcry as soon as they saw us, as did also the savages on the sledges.
“‘At last,’ thought I, ‘our time has come. We shall be murdered now for certain, and then be given to the dogs for food.’
“‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Dean, ‘if our poor mothers only knew where we were!’
“Dangerous as appeared to be our situation, I could still not help asking the Dean whether he did not think it would be quite as much to the purpose if we only knew where we were ourselves,—to which, however, he made no reply, for the savages were almost upon us. Seizing our weapons, we prepared to defend ourselves, since there was no use trying to run away, as the dogs would be atop of us before we could reach the hut.
“But there was not the least use of our being so much alarmed, for the savages soon convinced us that they meant no harm. They would not let their dogs come near us, but kept them off, and, stopping, tied them fast. Then, without any weapons in their hands, they came up to us in a most friendly manner, all yeh-yeh-ing at a wonderful rate. So we took the five of them right off up to the hut, and now our fears were turned into rejoicing and our sorrow into joy. One of them was Eatum, and they all proved to be just as singular-looking people, and were as curious about us and about everything we had as Eatum had been. Their faces were on a broad grin all the while.
“Having learned something of their language from Eatum, as I told you before, we contrived to make them understand, with the aid of a great many signs, how the ship had been wrecked, and how we got first to the ice and then to the land,—for this they were most curious about,—and they were greatly puzzled to know how we came to be there at all. After this they treated us quite affectionately, patting us on the back, and exclaiming, Tyma, tyma, which we knew to mean ‘Good, good,’ as Eatum had told us. Then Eatum wanted to show himself off in our language, and, pointing to us, he said, ‘Hunter plenty good, plenty eat get. All same,’ (pointing to himself by way of illustration, and thus finishing it,) ‘tyma? yeh-yeh, yeh!’ which was the way he had of laughing, as I told you before, and all the rest yeh, yeh-ed just like him. One of them we called at once ‘Old Grim,’ because he yeh-yeh-ed with his insides; but no laugh ever showed itself in his face.
“After their curiosity was satisfied, they imitated Eatum, and began to call loudly, drinkum and then eatum,—yeh-yeh-ing as before in a very lively manner; so that, what with their yeh-yeh-ing and eatum and drinkum, there was quite a merry time of it. Meanwhile, however, we were busying ourselves to satisfy their wants, and it was not long before the savages were as full as they could hold. It was a curious sight to see them eat. They would put one end of a great chunk of meat in the mouth, and, holding tight to the other end, they would cut it off close up to the lips. Our seal-blubber they treated in the same way. To this blubber they seemed to be very partial; and, indeed, all people living in cold climates soon grow fond of fat of every kind. It is such strong food, which people require there as much as they do warm clothing, and in great quantities too. The people living in the Arctic regions have little desire for vegetable food; and the savages there eat nothing but meat, fish, and fat.
“Our guests did not leave off eating until each had consumed a quantity of food equal at least to the size of his head; and then they grew drowsy, and wanted to singikpok, which we knew from Eatum meant sleep; and in singikpok we were glad enough to indulge them, although greatly to our inconvenience, for they nearly filled our hut.
“But before this we went down to the sledge and brought up the furs and other things we had stowed upon it for our journey, as we needed them for the accommodation of our visitors. The savages went with us, and when they saw what a sledge we had made, and understood what sort of journey we were going upon, they laughed.
“You must understand, however, that we did not give up the journey; but, on the contrary, were more than ever disposed to make it. For, although we could see no harm in the savages, yet we put no trust in them,—they appeared to have no serious side to them at all, but treated everything with such levity that we could not tell what to make of them. Sometimes we wished they would go away; and then again we wished they would stay; and then we wished they would take us with them, and then again we were afraid to trust them. Thus did our hopes and fears alternately get the better of us.
“The savages slept very soundly for a while; but one by one they woke up, and, as soon as their eyes were open, they fell to eating again until they were satisfied, and then in a minute afterwards they were fast asleep. This they kept up for about two days, and you may be sure they made way with a great deal of our provisions before they had finished.
“When they had thoroughly gorged themselves, and slept all they could, they were ready to start off again; and now we found that they had come to take us away,—a discovery which was both agreeable and disagreeable; for we could not tell what to make of the savages at all, we could understand so little of what they meant, or of what they said, or of what their designs might be respecting us.
“‘However,’ we thought, ‘after all here is a possible chance of escape and rescue,’ and, like a drowning man catching at a straw, we could not seriously think of allowing the opportunity to slip; besides, there proved in the end to be little chance of our having our own will in the matter, since the savages never once asked us if we would go with them, but began to bundle up our furs, food, and blubber, and everything else we had, as if resolved to take us whether or no.
“At first we felt a little alarm,—without expressing it, however; but, seeing how good-natured they were about it, and how considerate they appeared to be for us, we had no further fear, but trusted them entirely.
“The savages went to work with a hearty good-will to get us off. Not a thing escaped them,—not a piece of fur of any kind; fox-skins, bird-skins, bear-skins, pots, lamps, and everything else, were picked up and carried off just as if we had no right to them at all; and although there were, as I have said, five sledges, yet these were all quite heavily laden.
“As we passed down by our sledge, the savages set up another laugh at it. It seemed to amuse them very much, but they showed no disposition to take it along.
“At last we were all ready. The sledges were all stowed, everything was tightly lashed down, and off we started,—I riding on the sledge with Eatum, while the Dean was on the sledge of ‘Old Grim.’
“The Dean carried his ‘Delight,’ of course, while I held on to ‘Old Crumply.’ Nor were our ‘palm and needle,’ and jack-knife, that had done such good service, forgotten. Indeed, we brought away everything.
“Of course we were very much rejoiced to get away from the Rock of Good Hope, even although our fortunes were yet very uncertain; still, it had been our rock of refuge and safety, and, in our thankfulness, we could not fail to cast upon it a look of tender regret at parting from it. Together there the Dean and I had achieved many triumphs which were to us a source of great pride, and would always continue to be as long as we lived; while, on the other hand, if we had suffered many discomforts and sorrows, these would not, we knew, linger long in the memory. Besides, on the Rock of Good Hope, and in the hut we were leaving, we had learned to know each other, and to love each other, and to be bound together by a strong bond of friendship, which, as it was formed in adversity, was not likely to be broken.
“But then, on the other hand, the prospect that loomed up ahead of us was not of a very encouraging description. ‘Where were the savages taking us? what would they do with us?’ were questions which kept haunting us all the time. We could see nothing clearly; and no matter what might happen in the end for our advantage, we must, in any case, live among these wild people for an indefinite time, subject to their savage caprices and savage and lawless ways of life.
“But we soon had to give up speculating about the prospect ahead, and had to let the Rock of Good Hope, and the hut, and the life we had led there, with its struggles and trials and triumphs, pass away as some vaguely remembered dream; for on we sped, with our caravan of sledges, over the frozen sea,—the dogs all lively, and galloping away with their bushy tails curled over their backs, and their heads up; their savage drivers crying to them, now and then, ‘Ka-ka! ka-ka!’ and snapping their whips to keep them at a brisker run, and all the while talking to each other in a loud voice,—sometimes, as we could clearly understand, about ourselves, sometimes whether they should go off on a bear-hunt. Occasionally one of the teams would scent a seal-hole, and away the dogs would rush towards it as hard as they could go, all the other teams following after, pell-mell; and, when they reached the hole, it was all the hunters could do, by whipping and shouting and scolding, to keep the teams from coming atop of each other, and getting into a snarl. Once this happened with two of the teams. The dogs all became tangled in each other’s traces, the sledges got locked together, and the animals fell to fighting, one team against the other, in a most vicious manner.
“This was such a novel mode of travelling that we enjoyed it immensely, even although it was pretty cold and the journey was very long. It seemed strange to us to be thus wandering, without chart or compass, over the great ice-desert on the sea; for all around us was nothing but a great plain of whiteness, only broken here and there by an iceberg, which glittered like a great diamond in the bright sunshine.
The Children of the Frozen Sea.
“We must have gone at least sixty or seventy miles before we made a single halt; and then we came to the village where these savages lived. It was not on the land, but out on the frozen sea over which we had travelled. As we approached, the dogs ran very fast. ‘Igloo, igloo!’ exclaimed the savages, pointing, when we neared the village. As we had already learned that igloo meant hut, in their language, we were much rejoiced; for we were very tired with the long journey, and cold besides. But still we fell to wondering what sort of place this was we were coming to, and what strange sight we were next going to see.
“Old Grim drove his sledge close up along side of Eatum’s, trying to pass; and we went into the village with a perfect rush,—the men shouting, the dogs barking, and everything in an uproar generally.
“While this race between Old Grim and Eatum was going on, the Dean and I were for a few moments side by side, and near together. The Dean called out to me, ‘Hardy, this don’t seem real, does it? These ain’t dogs, they are wolves; these ain’t men, they’re devils’; and, as I looked over at Old Grim, and saw him throwing his long whip to right and left, and heard him calling out to his dogs in a language which seemed like nothing human, and all the while preserving the same immovable expression of countenance, I must confess that there seemed to be a great deal of truth in what the Dean said.
“Thus it was we went rushing into the village. And a strange village, indeed, it proved to be,—nothing but a collection of huts made of frost-hardened snow. There were in all six of them.
“Many more savages were there, who came out to meet us; and their dogs rushed out too, making a great noise; and when we had halted, a number of women joined them, all dressed in furs just like the men, and also children dressed in the same way, and all very curious about us, and all yeh-yeh-ing a great deal. Indeed, we made such a commotion in the village as never was seen before.
“But everybody appeared to be kindly disposed towards us, and into one of the huts we were both taken immediately, and down we sat on the floor of the hut, which was covered all over with bear-skins. There were two lamps in it, almost exactly like ours, and two pots were hanging over them. We had soon a good meal, and very quickly after that were sound asleep; and even although it was a snow hut, and among savages, we were thankful in our very heart of hearts. And our thankfulness was because we were among human beings once more, and felt no longer as if we were wholly cast away from the world; and we now felt hopeful that through these savages would come means of escape to our homes. We felt thankful, too, that they treated us so kindly,—the women especially; for, savages though they were, they were possessed of much feeling and sympathy. One of the women made the Dean go to sleep with his head in her lap, which it was easy to see he did not like a bit; and, before this, she had fed him with her own fingers, and, while he was sleeping, she stroked his bright hair away from his handsome face. Another of the women treated me very much in the same way; but being older, and not handsome, like the Dean, I did not come in for so many favors.
“Then, besides that, the women took off our damp fur stockings, and gave us dry ones before we went to sleep; and they seemed to want to do everything they could for us, so that we soon became convinced they meant us no harm. The woman who was particularly kind to me was the wife of Eatum; and the Dean and I at once called her Mrs. Eatum, which made them all yeh-yeh very much; and they got to calling her that too,—as near, at least, as they could pronounce it which was, Impsuseatum. Her right name was Serkut, which means ‘little nose’; Eatum’s right name was Tuk-tuk, that is, reindeer, because he could run very fast. There were two young Eatums; and when I began to play with them, I grew in great favor with the Eatum family.
“The Dean was quite as well off for patrons as I, being specially taken care of by a woman whose husband had been one of our party. Her name I forget now, but it meant ‘big toes.’ So what with nursing by ‘Mrs. Little-nose’ and ‘Mrs. Big-toes,’ and with plenty of seal meat to eat, the Dean and I got on famously. The name of Mrs. Big-toes’ husband was Awak, which means walrus. He was a fine hunter, and had plenty of dogs. These dogs, I should mention, were always allowed to run loose about the village; and, no matter how cold it was, they slept on the snow. But their harness had to be taken off, else they would eat it; and everything eatable was buried out of sight in the snow, or brought inside the hut.
“After we had been eating, and sleeping, and enjoying the hospitality of these savages about three days, a young hunter whose name was Kossuit, which meant that he was a little dark-skinned fellow, came driving into the village (he had been out prospecting for a hunt), proclaiming, in a very loud voice, that there was a great crack in the ice, and that it was alive with walrus and seal. There was immediately a great stir, and a great harnessing of dogs, and hunting up of whips, and getting together of harpoons and spears and lines. Everybody was going on the hunt, that is, all the men and boys. When all was ready, Eatum came to me, and said, ‘Ketchum awak, ketchum pussay, you go?’ meaning, would we go with them, and catch walrus and seals. Of course we said ‘yes,’ and off we started at a wild pace; the Dean riding with Kossuit, while I rode with Eatum. We had to go I should think four miles before we came to the crack; and, when we reached it, we found it to be as Kossuit had described it. As soon as the savages saw the crack, they stopped their dogs, which was done by crying, Eigh, eigh, eigh! to them, and whipping then:, fiercely if they did not mind soon enough. The dogs being now fastened by running the points of the runners into the snow, the hunters went forward with their lines and spears and harpoons; and, by approaching the side of the crack very cautiously, they managed at length to get near enough to throw their harpoons into the animals when they came up to the surface to breathe. Their mode of capturing them was almost the same as that which we employed in catching seals, after finding it out for ourselves. Thus you see how all people in the same conditions of life will naturally be led to the same way of providing for their wants,—our senses being given to us all, whether savage or civilized, for the same purpose. I have showed you already how, in our mode of starting a fire, in our lamp, pot, and other domestic implements; our clothing, harpoon, and the like,—we had imitated these savages unconsciously; and the more I was with them, the more I saw how much we were like them.
“Knowing how we killed the seals, it is not necessary to tell you how the savages managed; and catching the walrus was just the same, only more difficult, for a walrus is several times larger than a seal. You know the walrus are those huge marine animals, living in the Arctic seas, that have long white tusks, and look so fierce. They make a very loud and very hideous noise; and in the summer, like the seals, they come up on the ice, or on the rocks along the shore, in great numbers, to bask and sleep in the sun.
“It is enough to say there was a great deal of sport, and a great deal of excitement, not unmixed with danger. One of the hunters got a line tangled about his legs, and was whipped over into the water, where he was not noticed, except to be laughed at, while all the hunters went on with what they were about, letting him shift for himself,—little caring, as it appeared, whether he drowned or not; and I really believe he would have drowned, had it not been for the assistance of the Dean and myself. This was the first time I had observed how reckless these people were of their lives.
“There were in the party altogether nine sledges, with one good hunter to each sledge. Five of them were old men and four were young men, besides which there were six boys of various ages; and these, with the Dean and myself, made seventeen. By helping each other all round, we caught seven seals and three walruses,—all of which we skinned and quartered, and put on the sledges; and then we returned to the village,—walking back, however, as the load on the sledges was too heavy to allow us to ride.
“When we reached the village, the women came out to meet us, talking very much, and yeh, yeh-ing louder than ever; and now I observed that they took all the game we had captured, and butchered it, the men doing nothing at all but look after their dogs. It was thought to be a disgrace for a man to do any work about his hut.
“The Dean and I had taken our full share in the hunt, and won much admiration. Before, they had treated us with a kind of pity, but now they had great respect for us. Eatum said, ‘Much good hunter you.’
“Seeing that we were good hunters, they were now going to marry us right off, that we might have wives to cut up our seals when we brought them home, which proposition put us in a great embarrassment. If we refused, they might be offended, as was very natural; so I accepted their offer at once without a moment’s hesitation, appearing as if I was very glad, and thought it a great compliment indeed; but at the same time I told them, with a very grave face, that all our relations lived in a far-off country, to which we were obliged to go as soon as a ship came that way; and, of course, when we did go, the wives they gave us would go along. As none of the young women were willing to take us on these conditions, although not very flattering to us, we got out of the difficulty without offending anybody. At first the Dean was quite indignant, but afterwards he laughed, and said, ‘Why, just think of it! Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Dean in seal-skin breeches and long boots,—a jolly idea indeed!’ But one of the girls was fond enough of the Dean for all, only she mustn’t show it; for these people are mighty particular about that. When all is arranged by the parents, the girl is obliged, even then, to say she won’t have her lover. So the lover has to steal up, and take her unawares, and run off with her bodily. Of coarse, if she really likes the fellow, and wants to get married to him, he has an easy time enough of it; but if, on the other hand, she dislikes him, she can readily get away from him.
“Old Grim (whose right name was Metak, meaning eider-duck) had an adventure of this sort, as they told me, which resulted very differently from what usually happens. He was then quite a young man, but, having caught a seal, he thought it was time he had a wife. Meanwhile a wife had been provided for him by his father, who had made the bargain with the girl’s father. The girl was told who her husband was to be, but it would have been against all rules to tell her when he was coming after her. Well, as I have said, having caught his first seal, Metak made up his mind to have a wife to butcher it for him; so he set out for the snow hut of his lady-love’s father, where the dusky-faced girl was lying fast asleep, all rolled up in furs.
“As it was contrary to custom for any girl to be captured in a hut, but must be taken on the wing, as it were, Metak had to wait for her to come out, which she finally did, and passed very near a deep bank of snow, behind which her lover was lying, shivering with cold, and crying with impatience. Quick as a fox to pounce upon an unsuspecting rabbit was Metak to pounce upon the unsuspecting girl. He seized her, and started for his sledge. She screamed, she pulled his hair, she tore his fur, she bit his fingers; but the valiant Metak held manfully to his purpose, and would not let her go. He reached the sledge, and put her on it; he tied her there, and, springing on himself, he whipped up his dogs, and started for his home. But the refractory damsel would not stay tied. She cut the lashings with her teeth, she seized the whip out of Metak’s hands, she pushed Metak off the sledge, and sent him sprawling on the snow; and then she wheeled the dogs around, and fairly made them fly again on the backward track to her father’s hut, where she crawled once more into her nest of furs, and where the luckless Metak was ever afterwards content to let her stay, satisfied that he was no match for her.
“This story was told by Eatum one evening in the snow hut, while Old Grim was present, and it was evidently a standing joke against him. He did not seem to relish it at all, for he went out of the hut as if driven away by their shouts of laughter. I could not understand the language well enough to fully appreciate the story at the time, but afterward I got Eatum to repeat it to me.
“It proved that the name Old Grim, that the Dean and I had given Metak, was even more appropriate than we thought; for it seemed that he was generally known as the man who laughed with his insides without the help of his face.
“Altogether these savages were a most singular people. They seemed to be happy and cheerful all the time, never caring for anything, so long as they had enough to eat, and plenty of time to tell stories about each other and make each other laugh. But what struck the Dean and I most strangely was that they should be living in this happy state away out there on the sea, a long distance from land, really burrowing in the snow for shelter, and roaming about for food like beasts of prey, and yet enjoying themselves and amusing themselves after the fashion of civilized human beings, so far as their relations to one another were concerned.
“‘Well, I do declare,’ said the Dean, ‘this is an odd party, to be sure. I’m going to christen them, Hardy.’
“‘Christen them, or Christian them’? I asked.
“‘Both, perhaps,’ answered the Dean; ‘but for the present I mean christen,—that is, give them a name.’
“‘That I understand; but what’s the name?’
“‘The Children of the Frozen Sea.’
“‘Very good,’ I said, ‘capital! Children of the frozen sea! Sounds good, at any rate; and all the world is agreed that whatever sounds good must be good.’”