The Walrus Hunters: A Romance of the Realms of Ice

by R. M. Ballantyne

Another moment and the stupendous mass fell with an indescribable crash, which was prolonged into sounds that bore quaint resemblance to the smashing up of gigantic crockery, as the shivered atoms shot far away over the frozen plain. But the chief heard nothing of this save the first great crash, for the avalanche, although it passed harmlessly over his head, had buried him in what seemed to him a living tomb.

The chamber in which he and his dog were thus enclosed was of course absolutely dark—a darkness that might be felt; and the man would have been more than human if he had not experienced a sinking of the heart as he contemplated his awful position. Once again arose in his mind the question, Does the Maker of all care nothing about such things? The feeling deepened in him that such could not be true,—that the All-Father must certainly care more for His children than ordinary fathers for theirs, and with that thought came also the old feeling, “I will trust Him.” The poor dog, too, had the consolation of trust, for it rubbed its head against its master with a touch that implied implicit belief in his power to deal effectively with any difficulty whatever.

Feeling his way carefully round the walls of his prison, the Indian ascertained that it was not much more than about twelve feet long by three or four broad. On one side was the comparatively smooth wall of the berg, but for the hollow in which he would have been crushed; in front was the rugged heap of confused masses which had thoroughly closed him in. There was no outlet anywhere; he felt assured of that after three careful examinations of the chamber, and how many thousand tons of ice lay between him and liberty of course he could not guess.

There was only one course open to him now, and that was to cut his way out with his hatchet. Before beginning to act he unstrapped his bundle and sat down to eat, having previously relieved Attim of his load and given him some food. Everything he did had to be done by feeling, for he could not see his hand even when held only an inch from his face.

Then he set to work. It was difficult at first, for he had to strike out at random, sometimes hitting a lump of ice unexpectedly, sometimes just tipping it, and occasionally missing it altogether, when the axe would swing round behind him, to the great danger of Attim, who insisted on keeping close to his master’s heels wherever he went. By degrees, however, he learned to guess more correctly the position of the walls, especially after he had advanced a few feet and cut a tunnel, with the shape and dimensions of which he soon became familiar. For hours he laboured with unflagging diligence, clearing back the ice débris into the cavern from which he had started. But no sign of open air rewarded him.

At last, when almost exhausted, he made preparations for passing the night where he was. Before lying down he ate a hearty meal and fed the dog, who indicated his satisfaction by an occasional whine and the usual wag of the tail, which could be faintly heard though not seen.

A pipe of course followed, and during the process of lighting it he and Attim obtained a fleeting glimpse of their abode. As his materials could not produce a flame—only a dull red glow—the glimpse was not cheering, or of much value.

Then Nazinred spread a deerskin on the ice, rolled himself in his blanket, pillowed his head on the dog, who seemed to be perfectly satisfied with the arrangement, and went to sleep till—we cannot say morning, for pitch darkness still prevailed, but till that point of time when the stomachic chronometer awoke them.

After another feed the chief again set to work with indomitable perseverance, and extended the tunnel during many hours; yet when he had accomplished what appeared to him a long and severe day’s work, it seemed as if he were as far off as ever from deliverance. Just as he was giving way to weary disappointment, however, a rush of cold air came against his face, and with an irrepressible exclamation of satisfaction he found that his last blow with the axe had opened a way to the outer world. A few more strokes, delivered with unwonted vigour, set him free, to find that the gale was over, that a profound calm prevailed, and that the faint grey light of the Arctic noon was illuminating the ghostly scene.

He also discovered that during his imprisonment a heavy fall of snow had taken place, so that he sank a full foot into it—if not more—at every step. Congratulating himself on having brought his snow-shoes with him, he at once put on those useful implements, and, having secured the pack on his back, he once more set forth on his journey, beating a track as he went on which the dog followed him with ease, though without such a track the poor thing could not have travelled at all until the surface of the snow had hardened.