“Now, row! Row all together!” shouted Ilmarinen.
Instantly the hundred oars were dipped into the waves, all the rowers pulled together and the ship began again to move steadily, proudly through the water. Wainamoinen stood at the helm. With masterly skill he piloted the vessel through narrow ways, he guided it along deep, winding channels, and finally steered it to the [[315]]mainland, where it rested in a safe, well-sheltered haven close by the village of Pohyola.
All leaped out upon the sands, glad that the long voyage was ended. A fire was built and the young men and maidens clustered round it. The head of the pike was brought, and all examined its huge scales, its staring eyes, its sharp-pointed teeth.
“It is long since we tasted food,” said the Minstrel. “Let the fairest of the maidens cook this fish. Let them broil it for our breakfast. Never shall we enter Pohyola while hunger pinches us, while famine robs us of strength.”
Forthwith the maidens began the cooking. Ten of the most beautiful were chosen to perform the work. The young men hastened to gather sticks on the shore to feed the fire, to make hot coals for the broiling. Wainamoinen drew his knife blade from its sheath and with skilful strokes divided the head into a hundred pieces—yes, into more than a hundred he cleaved it, that each of the crew might have abundance. The flames roared, the red coals glowed upon the sand, the juicy morsels sizzled loudly and gave forth savory odors very pleasant indeed to the nostrils. [[316]]
Soon the breakfast was prepared and all sat down upon the sand to eat the delicious morsels which the maidens had cooked. Sharp were their appetites, and when they had finished, nothing was left of the mighty head save its bones and its dagger-like teeth which lay scattered on the beach.
“What a pity that these should be wasted!” said the Minstrel, picking up a fragment of the jawbone—a fragment with the teeth still fast within their sockets. “Surely, if Ilmarinen had them in his smithy he might shape them into something useful, beautiful, wonderful.”
“Nay, nay!” answered Ilmarinen. “Nothing can be made from such useless things. The skilfulest smith can never fashion fish-bones into anything of value.”
“It may be so,” said Wainamoinen thoughtfully, “and yet, perhaps I, who am not a smith, may make something from them that will give joy to men and women.”
Thereupon, with his sharp-edged knife he set to work to fashion from the fish-bones a thing to give forth music. Of a piece of cedar he made the framework; of the pike’s jawbone he made the bridge; of the pike’s sharp teeth he [[317]]made the pegs to hold the harp strings. Then out into the fields he went, searching in the thickets and among the briars. Soon he found five horsehairs which the wild steeds of Pohyola had lost while pasturing there—five horsehairs, long and strong and resonant. “These will serve right well for harp strings,” he said.