The next time they went ashore they carried a supply of needles, thread, thimbles and other sewing material and presented them to the women. Instantly the crude bone and rawhide utensils were cast aside and with beaming faces and ejaculations of delight, the women chattered and laughed as they experimented with the bright steel needles and shiny thimbles. As Tom said, they were like children with new toys and when in return—for even the least gift calls for a return present with the Eskimos—the women loaded the boys down with exquisitely worked moccasins, shirts of eider skins, blouse-like coats of fox and seal and robes of wolf and musk ox skins, the two lads were as pleased and excited as the women had been.
“Say, we’ve got to learn to talk Eskimo,” declared Tom. “It’ll be lots more fun if we can talk to these people.”
So, with Mr. Kemp’s help, the two boys set diligently to work to learn the Eskimos’ language and progressed rapidly. At first they found it a most difficult task to pronounce the odd, clucking gutturals, but once they mastered the rudiments they got on famously. Within a short time they were able to ask questions and understand the replies, and they had acquired quite a vocabulary of names and words.
In the meantime, the crew of the ship had not been idle. The schooner had been stripped of sails, topmasts and yards were sent down, and preparations made for the coming winter. Daily the whale boats had been manned, and under their spritsails had gone dancing off across the bay in search of whales. Sometimes they were gone for several days and returned empty handed, but often they would come sailing back in a long line and towing the carcasses of one or two huge bowheads. Then every one worked like beavers, cutting in and boiling until the oil and bone were safely under hatches.
At first the boys were crazy to go out on these hunts, but after one or two experiences, they decided there was far more of interest about the village and the shores, and devoted their time to hunting and paddling about the Welcome in a kayak which they had secured for themselves.
Near the village there was little game, for the Eskimos’ dogs roamed about, picking up every stray hare, ptarmigan, or other live thing, and so the boys went farther and farther afield on their excursions. The weather still held warm and pleasant, although the nights were cold and the little ponds and lakes between the hills were coated with ice. A few miles from the village the boys found game in abundance. One spot in particular was a favorite hunting ground—a little island in the broad estuary of the Welcome where the Wager River emptied into the bay. Here there were always ducks in the coves, hares nibbled the stunted shrubs among the rocks, ptarmigan gathered in flocks on the southern sides of the hills, and twice the boys had secured seals which they had surprised basking on the shore. One of these was a magnificent silver seal; the other a half-grown hooded seal. The two handsome hides had been cured and made into garments by the boys’ Eskimo women friends.
One day as the two boys were paddling their kayak around the island keeping a sharp lookout for game, Jim muttered a low exclamation and pointed towards the open water of the estuary. Tom peered intently as he ceased paddling, but for a moment could see nothing. Then, a few hundred yards away, something broke the surface of the water and a tiny column of spray rose in the air.
“Golly, it’s a whale!” cried Tom in subdued tones. “Say, let’s go for him!”
“All right,” assented Jim, “it’s a little fellow—a white whale, I guess. Say, won’t it be fine if we can get him all by ourselves?”
Swinging the kayak, Tom drove his paddle into the water while Jim, laying aside his rifle, got out the harpoon and placed the lance ready for use.