“Let’s show a bold front. Draw up in single line and hold on to the woman. West, put her in front.”
The men instantly drew up in battle array, and threw forward their muskets; but as there was only a dozen of them, they presented a very insignificant group compared with the crowds of Esquimaux who appeared on the ice in front of them.
“Now, then, stand fast, men, and I’ll show ye wot’s the way to manage them chaps. Keep yer weather-eyes open, and don’t let them git in rear o’ ye.”
So saying, Buzzby took the woman by the arm and led her out a few yards in front of his party, while the Esquimaux drew closer together, to prepare either to receive or make an attack, as the case might be. He then laid his musket down on the ice, and, still holding the woman by the arm, advanced boldly towards the natives unarmed. On approaching to within about twenty yards of them he halted, and raised both arms above his head as a sign of friendship. The signal was instantly understood, and one big fellow leaped boldly from his elevated position on a lump of ice, threw down his spear, and ran to meet the stranger.
In a few minutes Buzzby and the Esquimaux leader came to a mutual understanding as to the friendly disposition of their respective parties, and the woman was delivered up to this big fellow, who turned out to be her husband after all, as O’Riley had correctly guessed. The other Esquimaux, seeing the amicable terms on which the leaders met, crowded in and surrounded them.
“Leave the half o’ ye to guard the arms, and come on the rest of ye without ’em,” shouted Buzzby.
The men obeyed, and in a few minutes the two parties mingled together with the utmost confidence. The sailors, however, deemed it prudent to get possession of their arms again as soon as possible, and, after explaining as well as they could by signs that their home was only at a short distance, the whole band started off for the ship. The natives were in a most uproarious state of hilarity, and danced and yelled as they ambled along in their hairy dresses, evidently filled with delight at the prospect of forming a friendship with the white strangers, as they afterwards termed the crew of the Dolphin, although some of the said crew were, from exposure, only a few shades lighter than themselves.
Captain Guy was busily engaged with Fred Ellice and Tom Singleton in measuring and registering the state of the tide when this riotous band turned the point of the ice-belt to the northward, and came suddenly into view.
“Jump down below, Fred, and fetch my rifle and sword; there are the natives,” cried the captain, seizing his telescope. “Call all hands, Mivins, and let them arm; look alive!”
“All ’ands, ahoy!” shouted the steward, looking down the hatchway; “tumble up there, tumble up, ’ere come the Heskimows. Bring your harms with ye. Look alive!”