CHAPTER X
UNAVIK SPINS A YARN
Many days had passed since the boys’ first walrus hunt. They had learned much by experience and had killed many of the enormous ugly creatures without mishap. They had retained the skull of that first huge bull as a trophy, and no walrus taken since had approached it in the length and beauty of the perfectly matched and pointed tusks. Tom, to his unspeakable delight, had been made boat steerer and had been assigned to the same craft in which they had battled with the walrus and Jim, not to be outdone, had bent every energy to acquiring skill in using the harpoon and lance.
In this Cap’n Pem had played an important part, and finding the regular irons far too heavy for the boy, he had had the blacksmith fashion some special lighter weapons for Jim’s private use. Jim was as proud as a peacock of these and kept them, sharpened to a razor edge and carefully sheathed and greased, in the bow of the boat. And when, one day, two white whales were sighted and Tom’s boat drew into one of the creatures, and Jim had his first chance to test his skill, he was trembling with excitement.
Standing in the bow, bracing himself in the knee cleat, the boy raised his iron, and as the huge beluga broke water close by, he heaved the iron with all his strength. A roar of approval came booming across the waves from Cap’n Pem as the weapon struck fair and buried itself in the white whale’s back. All by themselves the boys and their crew played the stricken creature and by Tom’s orders the men worked as the line was hauled or slackened. When at last the white whale lay tired upon the sea, the boat drew close, and Jim killed the beluga with a single stroke of his lance. Then indeed, the two boys felt that they were full-fledged whalemen and they longed for the time when they could go on a real whale, a bowhead, and fight the thrilling, exciting, dangerous battle with a monster of the deep and bring him “fin up” unaided.
But no bowheads were seen, and the boys were forced to content themselves with lesser game. They had learned to handle the kayaks, and under Unavik’s tutelage they had become quite expert with the ticklish skin-covered craft. Often they had paddled ashore and, armed with rifle and shotgun, had gone hunting in the rocky hills or over the tundra, but they had seen neither bear, musk ox, reindeer, or other large game. But they invariably returned with full bags, for ducks, plover, geese and swan, as well as the big Arctic hares, were everywhere, and those on the Narwhal never suffered for lack of fresh meat. Once too, Jim had spied a grayish shape skulking along a hollow several hundred yards away and taking careful aim had brought it down at his first shot.
“Gee, I guess it’s some Eskimo’s dog!” he exclaimed when the two boys reached the creature and saw a gaunt, pale, grayish yellow, doglike animal lying among the rocks and sparse grass.
“Well it’s got a good hide anyway,” said Tom. “We’ll skin it and take it along. It’ll make a nice rug when we get home.”
But when, on reaching the schooner, they exhibited the skin, and Mr. Kemp told them they had killed a huge wolf, the boys fairly gasped with astonishment and then danced and yelled with delight.
Another time, Tom had killed a beautiful blue fox as the creature raced away from a half-devoured young Canada goose, and in a pen on the forward deck, they had a miniature menagerie of young ducks, geese, swans, gulls, and other birds.