The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole

by R. M. Ballantyne

Now, the reader must not hastily conclude that we are about to inflict on him or her a detailed narrative of a six months’ residence at the North Pole. We have no such fell design. Much though there is to tell,—much of suffering, more of enjoyment, many adventures, numerous stirring incidents, and not a few mishaps—we shall pass over the most of it in total silence, and touch only on those points which are worthy of special notice.

Let us leap, then, into the very middle of the Arctic winter. It is continuously dark now. There is no day at all at the Pole; it is night all round. The last glimmer of the departing sun left them months ago; the next glimmer of his return will not reach them for months to come. The northern Eskimos and their English visitors were well aware of that, nevertheless there was nothing of gloom or depressed spirits among them. They were too busy for that. Had not meat to be procured, and then consumed? Did not the procuring involve the harnessing of dogs in sledges, the trapping of foxes and wolves, the fighting of walruses, the chasing of polar bears; and did not the consuming thereof necessitate much culinary work for the women, much and frequent attention and labour on the part of the whole community, not to mention hours, and sometimes days, of calm repose?

Then, as to light, had they not the Aurora Borealis, that mysterious shimmering in the northern sky which has puzzled philosophers from the beginning of time, and is not unlikely to continue puzzling them to the end? Had they not the moon and the stars, which latter shone with a brilliancy almost indescribable, and among them the now doubly interesting Pole star, right overhead, with several new and gorgeous constellations unknown to southern climes?

Besides all this, had not Captain Vane his scientific investigations, his pendulum experiments, his wind-gauging, his ozone testing, his thermometric, barometric, and chronometric observations, besides what Benjy styled his kiteometric pranks? These last consisted in attempts to bring lightning down from the clouds by means of a kite and cord, and in which effort the Captain managed to knock himself down, and well-nigh shattered the North Pole itself in pieces!

Moreover, had not Leo to act the part of physician and surgeon to the community? a duty which he fulfilled so well that there never had been before that time such a demand for physic in Flatland, and, it is probable, there never will be so many sick people there again. In addition to this, Leo had to exercise his marvellous powers as a huntsman. Benjy, of course, played his wonted rôle of mischief-maker and jack-of-all-trades to the entire satisfaction of everybody, especially on that great occasion when he succeeded in killing a polar bear single-handed, and without the aid of gun or spear or any lethal weapon whatever;—of which great event, more hereafter. Anders, the southern Eskimo, made himself generally agreeable, and Butterface became a prime favourite, chiefly because of his inexhaustible fund of fun and good humour, coupled with his fine musical qualities.

We have not said much on this latter point hitherto, because we have been unwilling to overwhelm the reader with too sudden a disclosure of that marvellous magazine of power which was latent in our band of heroes; but we feel it to be our duty now to state that the negro sang his native melodies with such pathos that he frequently reduced, (perhaps we should say elevated), the unsophisticated Eskimos to floods of tears, and sometimes to convulsions of laughter. As, at Benjy’s suggestion, he sometimes changed his moods abruptly, the tears often mingled with the convulsions, so as to produce some vivid illustrations of Eskimo hysteria.

But Butterface’s strong point was the flute! No one who had not witnessed it could adequately conceive the poutings of thick red lips and general contortions of black visage that seemed necessary in order to draw the tones out of that simple instrument. The agonies of expression, the hissing of wind, and the turning up of whites of large black eyes,—it is past belief! The fruitless efforts of the Eskimos to imitate him were as nothing to the great original, and their delight at the sound was only equalled by their amazement at the sight.

Alf assisted the Captain scientifically and otherwise. Of course he was compelled, during the long winter, to lay aside his geological hammer and botanical box; but, then, had he not the arrangement and naming of his specimens? His chief work, however, was to act the unwonted, and, we may add, unexpected work of a lawgiver.

This duty devolved on him thus:

When Grabantak recovered health—which he was very long in doing—his spirit was so far subdued that he agreed—somewhat sulkily, it is true—to all that his prime minister had done while he held the reins of government. Then he was induced to visit Great Isle, where he was introduced to his mortal foe Amalatok, whom he found to be so much a man after his own heart that he no longer sighed for the extraction of his spinal marrow or the excision of his liver, but became a fast friend, and was persuaded by Alf to agree to a perpetual peace. He also took a great fancy to Chingatok, who begged of Alf to read to the chief of Flatland some of the strange and new ideas contained in his little book.