The Peculiar People proving to be Savages, the Castaways seize the First Opportunity to leave them, not relishing their Company.
“I have not latterly said much about the Dean; but you may be very sure that such a fine fellow could not fail to be greatly delighted with the change that had come about, as it not only led us away from our desolate life on the desert island, but gave us a promise at least of the rescue which we had so earnestly prayed for. ‘We ought to be very thankful,’ said the Dean to me one day, ‘very thankful indeed for this deliverance.’ But as I did not much relish the habits and customs of the savages, I did not find myself of the same thankful disposition; so I replied to the Dean, that the change looked much like that of the fish who fell out of the frying-pan into the fire. ‘You should not say so,’ replied the Dean. ‘I see the hand of God in it; and he who has mercifully preserved us through so many trials and dangers will not desert us now.’
“The Dean said no more at that time, but he became very thoughtful, while, as for myself, I felt quite ashamed that I had spoken so slightingly of the savages, and had shown so much impatience with their rather disagreeable company; for, to tell the truth, their ways were somewhat offensive, as they never washed their faces, and were altogether rather a filthy set.
“The Dean, however, did not stop with preaching about them, but, on the contrary, did everything he could for them. One of the hunters had gone to catch seals, and, the ice breaking up, he was drifted out to sea, where he took refuge on an iceberg, upon which he managed to drag his dogs and sledge. Here he lived through terrible storms and cold for a whole moon (that being the way they reckon time), and he only escaped finally by the iceberg drifting in near the land, when the sea froze around it. After great trouble he got ashore, with both of his feet dreadfully frozen, which is easily accounted for when you know that the poor fellow had no shelter at all while on the iceberg, and had nothing to eat but his dogs, all of which died of starvation. This savage had no wife, and the Dean took care of him, and dressed his frost-bites, and was so good to him that the savages all called him ‘Paw-weit’, which means ‘Little Good-heart.’ So the Dean got on famously; but the poor frozen savage that he had been so kind to died at last, and was buried in the snow.
“A child fell on the ice, and broke its arm, and the Dean set it, and made it all right; and to other people he did many things to show his sympathy for them; but, when he began to tell them about our religion, they did not understand him, and had no mind to listen. This very much grieved the Dean; for he wanted to convert the whole of them, and thought, if he only knew their language better, he could persuade them all to be Christians,—which I think very likely, for nobody could resist him.
“We remained at the snow village three weeks, but we did not do much more hunting, as the savages seemed to think they had enough for their present wants; and since they are almost constantly moving about from place to place in search of food, they never store up much for the future. Having enough to eat for the present, they let the future take care of itself; and, sure of a good meal, they amuse themselves mostly with telling stories, usually about each other,—that is, when they are not eating or sleeping, which I must say occupies most of their time.
“They had a singular custom in their story-telling which I have never seen among any other people. One person recites the story, and the listeners break in, every now and then, with a laughing chorus that is nothing more than a repetition of the meaningless words, ‘amna aya’, which are sung over and over to any extent. The women generally enjoy it the most, and sing the loudest, especially when a man is concerned. I will give you a specimen of this kind of song,—translated, of course, as I have long ago forgotten how to speak their language.
“Eatum is telling the story of a bear-hunt, and as you will see that it is a kind of song, I will sing it for you, and you can join in the chorus just as well as if you were all little savages yourselves. We will call it
and so on, after that, they keep aya-ing, aya-ing, and amna-aya-ing uproariously, until they are entirely broken down with shouting and laughing, in the midst of which Karsuk is pretty sure to run away.
“In the same manner I have heard the story of Metak’s love adventure sung, or rather recited, or amna-aya-ed as one might say.
“They use the same amna-aya chorus when they sing over the dead, or sing praises of the dead, only instead of being lively, then it is sung in a solemn tone. I will repeat one called
and after that, as in the other song, they keep on amna-aya-ing for a long while, but with a very doleful voice and manner. Indeed, it is quite as distressing to hear them amna-aya the dead as it is amusing to hear them amna-aya the living.
“The Dean and I very much wanted to go on another bear-hunt, but the savages said it was too late in the season for that, as the ice had many cracks in it, and there was no use chasing a bear, as he would jump into the first crack he came to, and swim over it to the other side, and there he would be safe enough. And, indeed, when I climbed one day to the top of a tall iceberg, and looked out in the direction of our solitary island, I could see several cracks from a yard to a hundred yards wide, so that it was very fortunate we escaped from the island when we did.
“The savages now said it was time to be moving, or a crack might come between us and the shore. Indeed, the season was getting well advanced; the snow was melting a little, and in places it was quite sloppy; so everything in and about the snow huts was packed upon the sledges, and we went then to the main-land, which was not more than ten miles distant. Here we came upon a village of three huts, built in the hillside very near the sea, and were in many respects fitted up as our own had been; only they had regularly constructed walls of stones and turf, which, tapering in from either side, joined at the top, making a space large enough to accommodate two or three families in each hut. Into these three huts were crowded all the men, women, and children that had been in the snow village.
“There we lived five days, after which we took up our march again, keeping along near the shore, where the ice was most solid and safe. Then we came to a deep, broad bay where the hillside, which was exposed to the south, was quite free of snow,—the snow having melted and run down to the sea. Here we halted, and the savages went to some great piles of stones, and brought out from under them a number of seal-skins, which were spread over some narwhal horns that were just like ‘Old Crumply,’ and in a few hours they had pitched two tents, under which we all slept soundly, being very tired. The next day they got more seal-skins, and pitched three more tents, and a few days afterward other people came along, and put up two other tents, making in all seven,—quite a little seal-skin village, and a much more comfortable looking one than the snow village had been.
“Here it seemed to be the intention of the savages to remain for some time, as they went regularly to work to prepare for hunting various kinds of game, chiefly walruses and seals, and besides these, among others, an animal I had not seen before,—a beautiful rabbit, or hare rather, very large, and pure white. These were quite numerous, and fed upon the buds and bark of the willow-bushes, and were caught by stretching a very long line across the tops of a great number of stones, or piles of stones rather, which were placed about six feet apart, the line itself being about a foot from the ground. To this line they tied a great number of loops, and then all the people, going out, surrounded the rabbits and drove them under the line, and several of them found themselves noosed when they least expected it. I saw there also a beautiful white bird called a ptarmigan, which is a grouse, but it could not be caught.
“By this time we had become quite domesticated among the savages. They called me Annorak, which meant that I resembled the wind when I talked,—that is, I talked when I liked and where I liked, and nothing could stop me, while the Dean was much more sober. Him they finally called Aupadleit, which means ‘Little Red-head,’ though the Dean’s hair was not exactly red, but very bright, and the savages admired it very much; so the Dean, to humor them, cut off great locks of it, and gave it to them all round.
“I took a great interest in Eatum’s children, and this further inclined Mr. and Mrs. Eatum to have a good opinion of me. As they were people of much consequence in their tribe, this was a matter of great importance; and, in truth, the juvenile Eatums were quite an interesting pair of savages, and were fond of play like any other children. One was a boy and the other a girl. I cannot remember their right names, but the Dean and I christened the boy Mop-head, because of the great quantity of dirty black hair he had, and the girl we called Gimlet-eyes. Mop-head had a little sledge made of bones, just like his father’s; and with this the two children used to play at travelling and other games. Gimlet-eyes had little dolls carved out of bones, which she used to dress up in furs and put on the sledge for Mop-head to drag when they went on their journeys; and he had little spears, and she had little pots and lamps, and they used to make excursions over the snow that you could hardly throw a stone to the end of; and then they would build little snow houses and put the dolls in them, and, while Mop-head went off to hunt, Gimlet-eyes would amna-aya them to sleep. Thus you see little children are much alike all the world over.
“In these playful exercises we used to amuse ourselves with the children; and when we were travelling about in earnest, the Dean and I sometimes pulled Mop-head’s little sledge for him, when we were going slow: and he thought it great fun to have the white-faced strangers drag his sister’s lamps and pots and dolls along.
“And now the summer was fairly come. The snow was melting very rapidly, and first in small and then in large streams the water came rushing and roaring down into the sea. The birds soon afterward came back from the south,—the eider-ducks and the little auks, which we had caught in the summer time when upon the island; and then, as soon as the snow was all gone, the moss and stunted grass grew green, and plants sprouted up here and there, and the butterflies with bright yellow wings went gathering the honey from flower to flower, and you cannot imagine how glad we were once more to come out of the dreary winter into this bright sunshine and this pleasant summer.
“It was apparent now why the savages had gone to this place. The little auks came in great numbers, and these birds I was told formed their principal subsistence in the summer season; indeed sometimes this is their only kind of food. There must have been millions on millions of them, swarming there like bees, and they made their nests among the stones on the hillside. The savages caught them as we had done, in nets. There were some reindeer, but these were not often caught. The reindeer here run wild, and are not as in Lapland tamed and taught to draw sledges. When the savages went on this kind of hunting, two always went together, walking so close, one behind the other, as to appear like one man. As soon as the deer saw the hunters, the latter would turn round and go back the other way, and the deer, being very curious, would follow them. Thus a deer may sometimes be enticed a long distance, and if through a narrow defile, there is then a chance of catching him; for one of the hunters drops down suddenly behind a rock, while the other goes on as if nothing had happened. The deer, thus cheated, keeps following the single hunter, where he had before followed a double one all unknown to himself, and at length approaches very near to the hunter lying behind the rock. As soon as the deer comes within a few yards of him, this concealed hunter rises, and throws his harpoon, the line of which he has previously made fast to a heavy stone. If fortunate enough to hit the deer, and the harpoon to hold, the animal is easily killed by the two hunters, who attack it with their spears.
“Besides the birds that I have told you of, there came a great many snipes, and different varieties of sea-gulls, and ducks of various species, and gerfalcons, and ravens,—also some little sparrows.
“I was very desirous to know how they managed to make their harpoon and spear heads, as I observed that they were all tipped with iron. So one day they took us over to a place they call Savisavick, which means ‘The Iron Place,’—the name being derived from a large block of meteoric iron, from which the savages chipped small scales; and these were set in the edges and tips of their harpoon and spear heads, just as I had done with my brass buttons. They also made knives in the same way. Many of their spear-handles were nothing more than narwhal horns, just like ‘Old Crumply’; and so you see how the Lord provides for all his creatures, endowing them all, whether white or black or copper-colored, with the same instinct of self-preservation, which leads them to seek and obtain for the security of their lives the materials that He places within their reach. How beautiful are all His works! and how constantly He watches over the rich and the poor, the savage and the Christian, the just and the unjust alike!
“Thus occupied, we drifted on into the final week of July. There was scarcely any snow left on the hillsides by this time; the air was filled with the incessant cry of birds and the constant plash of falling waters. We could sleep well enough once more on the green grass in the open air; and another period of watching now began, for here it was that the vessels passed every year, as the savages told us. Sometimes, however, they did not stop; but, when the ships appeared, the savages always went to a valley facing the sea, from one side of which the snow never melted, and, running to and fro over the white snow, endeavored to attract the attention of the people on the ships.
“We were much alarmed to find the ice holding firmly along the shore; and, as far away as the eye could reach, there was not much water to be seen. At last, however, a strong wind came, and started the ice. Some cracks were soon opened, and then a long lead or lane of water was seen stretching away to the south, and running close in by the land.
“The savages said that the Oomeaksuaks (big ships) would come very soon now, if at all; so we watched very carefully for them. The Dean and I did not hunt any more, as the savages, seeing how anxious we were, and how our hearts yearned for our own homes and kindred, provided us with food in abundance; and, besides this, they sent some of their women and young lads to aid us in looking out for the ships.
“Thus the time wore on, and we were becoming very fearful that the ships would not come at all. This was a dreadful thought to us, for, although the savages were very obliging, yet we looked forward with great dread to living long with them. Besides this and our longing to get home, we had had quite enough of this cold, desolate part of the world, where the sun never sets in summer nor rises in winter.
“While reflecting in this way, we heard one of the savages cry out ‘Oomeaksuak, Oomeaksuak!’ several times; and, running a little higher up the hillside whence the cry proceeded, our eyes were gladdened by seeing far off, with the hull yet hidden below the horizon, a ship under full sail, steering northward. At first the Dean, who had been so often cheated, thought it might be an iceberg; but it was clearly a ship that we saw this time. From fear that it might be an iceberg, we passed now to fear that it might hold off from the land, and not discover us, which would be even harder to bear.
“By and by the hull of the ship was plainly to be seen, and after a while we discovered that the ship was not alone, but that another was following only a few miles behind it; and directly two more were seen, making four, and then a fifth hove in sight some hours afterward. We knew this must be part of a whaling fleet that annually visits the Arctic seas, and we rejoiced greatly at the prospect of our deliverance.
“You will see how fortunate it was for us that there were so many of these ships; for, as we had feared, the first ship held so far away from the land that it was hopeless to think of being seen from her. But the lead through which this first ship had sailed off from the land was closed up before the others could enter it; and now these other ships were forced to come nearer to us. Seeing this, we hastened to the white hillside I have spoken of before, all the savages accompanying us, and we all began running up and down; but the next ship was still too far away to discover us. And the same with another and still another. Thus had four ships gone by without any soul on board being aware that two poor shipwrecked boys were so near, calling to them, and praying with all their might that they might see or hear.
“But there was yet a fifth ship, a long way behind all the others, and we still had hope. If this failed us, all was over, and we must be content to live with the savages. We had observed one thing which gave us great encouragement. Each ship that had passed us came a little nearer to the land; and this we saw was in consequence of the ice drifting steadily in before the wind. Indeed, by the time the last ship came along, the ice had pushed in ahead of her, and had touched the land, while the other ships had run through just in time.
“When the people on board saw what was ahead of them, and that they could not pass, they tacked ship, and stood away from us; but we saw clearly enough, from our elevated position on the hill, that they were not likely to get through in that direction,—which was, no doubt, a much more pleasant thing for us than for the people on board. This proved true; for presently they tacked again, and stood straight in towards where we were standing. Coming very near the shore, we did everything we could to attract their attention. We shouted as loud as we could, we threw up our caps and waved them round our heads, and we ran to and fro, all the savages doing the same.
“O how excited we became! almost frantic, indeed. A ship so near and yet so far away! Four ships gone by and out of sight! Those on board the fifth and last unconscious of our presence on the desolate shore; and how could we make the people see us? I cannot tell you what anxious moments these were during which we watched the ship as she came nearer and nearer to where we stood.
“At length she is so near that we can see the people on the deck; why can they not see us?
“The sails are shivering; the ship is coming to the wind! Have they seen us? are they heaving the vessel to? will they send a boat ashore to fetch us off?
“We hear the creaking of the blocks; the yards are swinging round; the braces are hauled taut; the other tack is aboard; they are not heaving to!
“The vessel fills away again; the sails are bulging out; the vessel drives ahead; they have not seen us!
“Shout again! Up and down, up and down, once more across the snow,—shout! shout all in chorus! but it is of no use.
“The bows fall off; the vessel turns back upon her course. Where is she going now? is she homeward bound?
“O no! she steers for the land; she nears it; she passes beyond a point below us, and is out of sight! Where has she gone?
“We follow after her, hurrying all we can. Miles of rough travelling over rocks and through deep gorges,—climbing down one side and up the other. The savages are with us.
“What is our hope? It is that the vessel, failing to get through the ice, has sought the land for shelter, and will find an anchorage and there remain until the ice opens ahead, and gives the ship once more a chance to go upon her course.
“Soon we round a lofty cliff that rises almost squarely from the sea, with only a narrow, rugged track between it and the water, and we come upon a narrow bay. A little farther, and there the vessel lies before us,—quietly at anchor, with her sails all furled.
“Again we see the men upon the deck,—faintly, but still we see them.
“Again we shout.
“We see a man halting by the bulwarks; something glitters in his hand. Is it a spyglass?
“No; he moves away.
“Is that a man mounting to the mizen cross-trees?
“Yes, it is a man.
“Is that a spyglass glittering in his hand? Yes, surely it must be.
“He waves his cap; he shouts to the people on deck; he descends; all is bustle in the ship; a boat is lowered to the water; men spring into it; the oars are dipped; the men give way; the boat heads for the spot where we are standing; we are discovered! O, God be praised! at last, at last!
“The boat cuts through the water quickly; it nears us; again we see white human faces; again we hear human speech in a familiar tongue.
“‘In oars!’—the boat touches the rocks, and we are there to take the painter, and to make her fast.
“Two of the men spring out; a man rises in the stern; he shades his eyes with his hands, as if to protect them from the glaring sun, and stares at us, and then at the savages, who—of both sexes, and of every age and size—surround us. Then he calls out, ‘Is there a white man in that crowd?’
“‘Yes, sir; two of them.’
“‘I thought so from the motions,’ says the man. Then he stared at me again, and cried: ‘Is that the lubber Hardy, of the Blackbird?’
“‘Yes, sir; it is,’ I answered.
“‘Is that other chap the cabin-boy?—him they called the Dean?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ spoke up the Dean.
“In an instant the man was out upon the rocks, and he grasped us warmly by the hands. He had recognized us, now we recognized him. He was the master of a ship that lay alongside the Blackbird when we first went among the ice, catching seals. His ship was the Rob Roy, of Aberdeen.
“This much he said to quiet us, for he saw the state of agitation we were in. Then he went on to tell us that the Blackbird, not having been heard from in all this time, it was thought that she must have gone down somewhere among the ice, with all on board; and he told us further, that he was on a whaling voyage now, and then he said, ‘The Rob Roy will give you a bonny welcome, lads.’
“Afterward he told us that the vessels were, as we had supposed, a part of the whaling fleet, and he said it was fortunate that he had discovered us, as this was our only chance, for all the other vessels that were following him would be very likely, on account of the state of the ice, to hold to the westward, and not come near the land.
“All this time the savages were yeh-yeh-ing round us, greatly to the amusement of the captain of the Rob Roy and his boat’s crew. Then, when I told the captain how good they had been to us, he sent his boat back to the ship, and had fetched for them wood and knives and iron and needles, in such great abundance that they set up a yeh, yeh, in consequence, which, for anything I know to the contrary, may be going on even to this present time.
“But what was the happiness of the savages compared to ours? Our feelings cannot be described. It seemed almost as if we had come from death to life. We could hardly believe our eyes,—that this was the ship we had so long hoped for, this the rescue we had so often despaired of. We cried with very joy, and behaved like two crazy people. The captain of the Rob Roy laughed good-naturedly at us, and proposed at once to hurry us off aboard his ship.
“We kept our promise to give Eatum all our property; but the captain of the Rob Roy wanted ‘Old Crumply’ and ‘The Dean’s Delight,’ and our pot and lamp, and some other things; so he gave Eatum other valuables in place of them. Then we took leave of our savage friends, which we of course did not do without some feelings of sorrow and regret at parting from them, remembering as we did how kind they had been to us, and how they had rescued us from our unhappy situation; and the savages seemed a little sorry too. First came Eatum and Mrs. Eatum, and then the two little Eatums (Mop-head and Gimlet-eyes) that I had so often played with; then Old Grim and Big-toes and Little-nose; and Awak, the walrus, and Kossuit; and the two young ladies who might have been our wives: and then all the rest of them, big and little, old and young.
“Then off we went to the Rob Roy; and a fair wind coming soon, the ice began to move away from the land, the Rob Roy’s sails were unfurled to the fresh breeze, and now, with hearts turned thankfully to Heaven for our deliverance, we were again afloat upon the blue water,—whither bound we did not know, but homeward in the end.”
“O, how glad you must have been!” said Fred.
“How splendidly the rescue and all that comes round,” said William; “just like it does in all the printed books. Why, Captain Hardy, it couldn’t have been better if you’d made the story up, it looks so real!”
While, as for little Alice, she never said a word, but only looked upon the old man wonderingly.