The Eskimo bit a huge piece from the tobacco, tore off a mouthful of the blubber and industriously chewing both together smacked his lips.
“Gosh, but that must be some combination!” exclaimed Jim.
“I suppose it’s a regular treat to him,” said Tom. “But it makes me sick just to think of eating that oily blubber, not to mention the tobacco.”
“All right, me go work, you betcher!” ejaculated Unavik as soon as he could talk. “You good frien’. Bimeby me go ’long hunt bear ’side you feller.” Stuffing the tobacco in his grease-soaked trousers, the Eskimo hurried back to the cutting stage.
All through the night, with the Aurora flickering above the northern horizon, and with the dull orange sun just visible upon the southern rim of the sea, the men toiled on. All through the following day the dripping strips of blubber were hauled on deck, the mincing knives thudded through the greasy mass upon the horse, the try works belched thick columns of black smoke, the cooper’s hatchet rang incessantly as casks were headed up, the tackles groaned and whined as the filled barrels were lowered into the hold, great masses of the whalebone were piled on deck and carcass after carcass, having been stripped of its precious covering of blubber, was cut loose and drifted slowly away from the ship.
Screaming, screeching, and squawking, a vast flock of sea birds had gathered about, swooping fearlessly among the men to tear bits of flesh and blubber from the whales. The birds rested by hundreds upon the grease-slicked water, sweeping back and forth above the decks, and hovering in clouds above the discarded, floating bodies. Never had the boys seen so many birds. They spent hours watching them as they sailed and wheeled and fought over the scraps and offal. Then at last the fourth carcass was cast adrift, the final pieces of blubber were boiled, the smoke from the try works dwindled and died out, the casks were stowed, and with over three hundred barrels of oil and more than two tons of choice bone in her hold, the schooner’s sails were hoisted. The men cleaned and swabbed the decks, and onward into the north and east the Narwhal held her course.
For two days the schooner sailed steadily on, but no whale, no tiny puff of spray, broke the even surface of the sea. On the third morning, the boys glanced ahead to see soft gray mountains looming against the sky.
“Greenland!” announced Mr. Kemp who was on watch.
“Gosh, it doesn’t seem possible,” exclaimed Tom, gazing fixedly at the distant land. “Now we really are in the Arctic. Will we have a chance to go ashore, Mr. Kemp?”