The Walrus Hunters - Robert Michael Ballantyne (best book clubs .txt) 📗

hand. When I jumped up, what do you think? I found the spear had gone into one of his eyes, and that made the other one water, I suppose, for he was twisting his head about, but couldn't see me. So I caught hold of the spear, pulled it out, and plunged it into his side; but I had not reached the heart, for he turned and made for the sea.

"There was a steep place just there, and he tumbled and rolled down. I lost my foothold and rolled down too--almost into his flippers, but I caught hold of a rock. He got hold at the same time with his tusks and held on. Then I jumped up and gave him the spear again. This time I hit the life, and soon had him killed. There!"

On concluding his narrative the excited lad applied himself to his yet untasted piece of blubber, and Nootka plied him with questions, while Oolalik rose and went off to assist his comrades, whose voices could now be heard as they shouted to the women and children of the colony to come and help them to carry up the meat.


CHAPTER THREE.


PEACE OR WAR--WHICH?

Soon afterwards the Mangivik family received another visitor. This was the bellicose Gartok himself, whose heart had been touched by the fair Nootka.

Like his rival, he sat down opposite the maiden, and stared at her impressively across the cooking-lamp. This would seem to be the usual mode of courtship among those children of the ice; but the girl's mode of receiving the attentions of the second lover varied considerably. She did not drop her eyes shyly under his gaze, but stared him full in the face by way of a slight rebuff. Neither did she prepare for him a savoury rib, so that he was obliged to help himself--which he did with much coolness, for the laws of hospitality in Eskimo-land admit of such conduct.

After some desultory conversation between Gartok and his host, the latter asked if it was true that there was a talk of the tribe paying a visit to Whale River.

"Yes, it is true," answered the young man. "I came to see you about that very thing, and to tell you that there is to be a meeting outside the big hut to-day. We shall want your advice."

"Why do the young men wish to go there?" asked Mangivik.

"To get food, and wood for our spear-handles and sledges, and berries, and to have a good time. Perhaps also to fight a little with the Fire-spouters."

The youth glanced furtively at Mangivik as he concluded.

"To get food, and wood, and berries is good," observed the old man; "but why fight with the Fire-spouters? We cannot conquer them."

"You can ask that at the meeting. It is useless to ask it of me."

"Good, I will do so. For my part, I am too old to go on long expeditions, either to hunt or fight--but I can give advice. Is Cheenbuk to be at the meeting?"

"Did you not know? Cheenbuk has already gone to the Whale River. We only propose to follow him. He may not like our business, but he'll have to join us when we are there."

Having picked his rib clean, and receiving no encouragement from Nootka to remain, Gartok rose and departed.

That afternoon there was a large meeting of the heads of families in front of what was known as the big hut. There was no formality about the meeting. Unlike the war councils of the Indians, it was a sort of free-and-easy, in which blubber and other choice kinds of food did duty for the red man's pipe. The women, too, were allowed to sit around and listen--but not to speak--while the hunters discussed their plans.

Gartok, being the biggest, most forward, and presumptuous among them all, was allowed to speak first--though this was contrary to the wishes, and even the custom, of the tribe. He did not make a set speech. Indeed, no one thought of delivering an oration. It was merely a palaver on a large scale.

"We want spear-handles," said Gartok, "and wood for our kayak-frames, and deer for food, as well as birds and rabbit-skins for our underclothing."

"That is true," remarked one of the elderly men; "we want all these things, and a great many more things, but we don't want fighting. There is no use in that."

"Ho! ho!" exclaimed several voices in approval.

"But we do want fighting," retorted Gartok firmly; "we want the pretty coloured things that the Fire-spouters sew on their clothes and shoes; also the iron things they have for cutting wood; and we want the spouters, which will make us more than a match for them in war; and we can't get all these things without fighting."

"Do without them, then," observed Mangivik sharply; "why should we want things that we never had, and don't need? Listen to me, young men--for I see by your looks that some of you would like a little fighting,--even if we had the spouting things, we could not make them spout."

"That is a lie!" exclaimed Gartok, with the simple straightforwardness peculiar to the uncivilised. "Once I met one of the Fire-spouters when I was out hunting at the Whale River. He was alone, and friendly. I asked him to show me his spouter. He did so, but told me to be very careful, for sometimes it spouted of its own accord. He showed me the way to make it spout--by touching a little thing under it. There was a little bird on a bush close by. `Point at that,' he said. I pointed. `Now,' said he, `look along the spouter with one eye.' I put one end of it against my cheek and tried to look, but by accident I touched the little thing, and it spouted too soon! I never saw the little bird again; but I saw many stars, though it was broad daylight at the time."

"Ho! hoo!" exclaimed several of the younger men, who listened to this narration with intense eagerness.

"Yes," continued Gartok, who had the gift of what is called "the gab," and was fond of exercising it,--"yes; it knocked me flat on my back--"

"Was it alive, then?" asked Anteek, who mingled that day with the men as an equal, in consequence of his having slain a walrus single-handed.

"No, it was not quite, but it was very nearly alive.--Well, when I fell the man laughed. You know his people are not used to laugh. They are very grave, but this one laughed till I became angry, and I would have fought with him, but--"

"Ay," interrupted Anteek, "but you were afraid, for he had the spouter."

Before Gartok could reply Mangivik broke in.

"Boo!" he exclaimed contemptuously, "it is of no use your talking so much. I too have been to the Whale River, and have seen the fire-spouters, and I know they are _not_ nearly alive. They are dead-- quite dead. Moreover, they will not spout at all, and are quite useless, unless they are filled with a kind of black sand which is supplied by the white men who sell the spouters. Go to the Whale River if you will, but don't fight with any one--that is my advice, and my hair is grey."

"It is white, old man, if you only saw it," murmured Anteek, with native disrespect. He was too good-natured, however, to let his thoughts be heard.

"Come, Oolalik," said Mangivik, "you are a stout and a wise young man, let us hear what you have got to say."

"I say," cried Oolalik, looking round with the air of a man who had much in his head, and meant to let it out, "I say that the man who fights if he can avoid it is a fool! Look back and think of the time gone away. Not many cold times have passed since our young men became puffed up-- indeed, some of our old men were little better--and made a raid on the Fire-spouters of the Whale River. They met; there was a bloody fight; six of our best youths were killed, and numbers were wounded by the little things that come out of the spouters. Then they came home, and what did they bring? what had they gained? I was a boy at the time and did not understand it all; but I understood some of it. I saw the fighters returning. Some were looking very big and bold, as if they had just come from fighting and conquering a whole tribe of bears and walruses. Others came back limping. They went out young and strong men; they came back too soon old, helped along by their companions. Two were carried--they could not walk at all. Look at them now!"

Oolalik paused and directed attention to what may be called an object-lesson--two men seated on his right hand. Both, although in the prime of life, looked feeble and prematurely old from wounds received in the fight referred to. One had been shot in the leg; the bone was broken, and that rendered him a cripple for life. The other had received a bullet in the lungs; and a constitution which was naturally magnificent had become permanently shattered.

"What do you think?" continued Oolalik. "Would not these men give much to get back their old strength and health?"

He paused again, and the men referred to nodded emphatically, as if they thought the question a very appropriate one, while some of the peacefully disposed in the assembly exclaimed "ho!" and "hoo!" in tones of approval.

"Then," continued the speaker, "I passed by some of our huts and heard sounds of bitter weeping. I went in and found it was the wives and sisters of the men whose bodies lie on the banks of the Whale River. There would be reason in fighting, if we had to defend our huts against the Fire-spouters. Self-defence is right; and every one has a good word for the brave men who defend their homes, their women, and their children. But the Fire-spouters did not want to fight, and the men who lost their lives at the fight I am speaking of, threw them away for nothing. They will never more come home to provide their families with food and clothes, or to comfort them, or to play with the children and tell them of fights with the walrus and the bear when the nights are black and long. Most of those poor women had sons or man-relations to care for them, but there was one who had no relation to hunt for her after her husband was killed--only a little daughter to take care of her. I speak of old Uleeta, who is--"

"That is a lie!" cried Gartok, springing up and looking fierce. "Old Uleeta is, as you all know, my mother. She had _me_ to hunt for her when father was killed, and she has me still."

"You!" exclaimed Oolalik, with a look of scorn, "what are you? A hunter? No, only a fool who wants to be thought very brave, and would leave his mother and sister to the care of old men