By the time they had reached the further end of the island, the ka-yaks were lying high and dry upon the sand and the Eskimo strangers grouped together waiting to greet them.
With quaint gestures, the Factor endeavored to thank them for coming to the rescue of himself and party.
The intrepid Eskimos received phlegmatically the earnest expressions of gratitude.
They nodded deliberately, glanced at the ebbing tide, then walked to the ka-yaks where they stood significantly waiting.
Divining from their behavior that they were anxious to start before the tide turned, which, flowing against the wind would make a rougher and angrier sea than ever, Mr. McLeod lost no more time, but straightway led Lena to the ka-yaks. A trio were now put on the water and Lena was lifted into the middle one. Then an Eskimo stepped quickly into each of the outside ka-yaks and a start was made for the shore. The Factor watched the men paddle desperately for a few moments, then walked quickly to where a set of ka-yaks was waiting for him. And in a very little while the whole number of frail craft were on the water, battling against wind and waves, which had providentially lessened in violence.
After an hour or so of arduous paddling the ka-yak containing Lena touched the shore and the girl was lifted unceremoniously in a pair of malodorous arms and carried to dry land.
Then at intervals others of the shipwrecked crew arrived, all very wet, very cold, and very stiff from sitting in such cramped positions, and painfully they walked up to a large fire which the Eskimo women had kindled.
After such strenuous efforts, the thoughts of the Eskimo rescuers turned to a meal, and taking their shipwrecked comrades with them, they strolled to where several large kettles hung suspended over as many fires. Then the men seated themselves in a circle, the women arranging themselves in another at some little distance from them.
Two large, oblong, wooden dishes, one for each group, were brought from the fires and their contents emptied upon the ground. This was the signal for a mad rush. The men displayed remarkable agility as they scrambled with hearty laughter for the sickly mess—boiled seal meat—while screams from the group of women told that excitement was likewise rife in their midst. Procuring as much as they could hold in both hands, they retired to their former positions in the circle and with the aid of long, murderous-looking knives, wolfishly devoured their portions—cramming their mouths to the utmost extent and cutting off the remainder uncomfortably close to their flat noses and chins.
When all the solids had disappeared, liquids were brought on. Large kettles containing the water in which the meat had been boiled were carried into the centre of the two groups, which once more became struggling masses of humanity, all of them endeavoring to dip a can or a mug into the kettles at one and the same time. The uproar gradually subsided as each person retired to his or her place, chuckling over a mug of greasy liquid.