THE BOYS CATCH A TARTAR
It was indeed a lucky thing for the _Narwhal_ and all upon her that the
deaf-mute had been tinkering with the motor and had started the machine
at exactly the right instant. Scarcely had the schooner cleared the reef
when, to the north, the bay was blotted from sight by a white wall, a
roar like a cataract came booming across the water and sea birds flew
screaming past with wings aslant.
One glance Cap’n Pem gave and then, at the top of his leathern lungs,
he bellowed orders fast and furiously. The men, yet at their posts,
leaped to his bidding. Captain Edwards who was still at the wheel tugged
desperately at the spokes. Mr. Kemp himself led the willing crew aloft
and, working like demons, the men stripped the vessel of her lighter
sails. And not an instant too soon. Before the first reef cringle was
knotted in the foresail, the squall was upon them. With a maniacal shriek
the gale tore through the rigging, the water dashed in bucketfuls of
icy spray across the decks, and at the sudden irresistible pressure the
_Narwhal_ heeled until half her decks were awash, and a raging blizzard
blotted out sea and land.
Farther and farther the staunch old schooner heeled to the wind. Clinging
to shrouds, backstays, and rigging, the men and boys waited, expecting
each second that the schooner would actually capsize. The sleet beat upon
them, stinging like needles, and the blinding snow swirled and eddied and
piled in drifts upon the deck.
Cap’n Pem’s mouth opened and shut. Mr. Kemp cupped his hands to his lips,
but not a word could be heard above the terrific din of the howling wind,
the rattle of hail, the roaring of the gale in the sails, the whipping
of loose rigging, the creak and groans of straining spars and the
lashing thunder of the rapidly rising seas. Then slowly, inch by inch,
the _Narwhal_ swung around. Gradually she righted, the water poured in
cataracts from her scuppers and, shaking herself like an impatient horse,
she leaped forward and tore madly through the foaming water towards the
south.
Onward she sped through the blizzard, before the howling gale. With
jaws hard set and eyes straining, the three men at the wheel panted and
strained and threw their weight upon the spokes in a mighty effort
to hold her to her course. Forward, Mr. Kemp and two men huddled in
the lee of the winch and peered ahead, striving to pierce the eddying,
whirling wall of white. The two boys, awed, frightened, and shivering,
crouched beside the deck house, too fascinated, too thrilled to go
below for warmer garments. Twice great dim shapes loomed ahead. Each
time the frenzied shout of the lookout came in time and the _Narwhal_
sped past the bergs in safety. Again and again a thundering crash shook
the schooner from stem to stern as her plunging bow sheared through
floating cakes of ice. Once a dark mass of rocks loomed for an instant
within a hundred yards and the next second was gone, swallowed up in the
all-enveloping white.
But luck was with those on the _Narwhal_. By a miracle she escaped the
bergs; no large pan ice lay in her course; jagged reefs and rock-bound
islets were safely passed, and an hour after she had first started
on her mad rush before the gale, the squall ceased as suddenly as it
had commenced. The wind dropped to a steady blow, the snow ceased to
fall, blue sky showed overhead, and, ten minutes later, the decks were
streaming with water and there was a steady downpour from aloft as the
sun melted the tons of ice and snow that had accumulated during the
brief but terrific blizzard.
“Didn’t I tell ye it’d blow a rip-snorter?” exclaimed Cap’n Pem
triumphantly, as, with sails once more spread, the _Narwhal_ turned back
on her course. “I knowed it,” he continued, “drat that there cat!”
“B’gorra thin we’ll be afther havin’ foine luck fer the rist av the
cruise,” declared Mike. “Shure, the poor puss is gone entoirely. Didn’t
Oi see her with me own eyes—washed clane overboarrd whin the old schooner
wuz afther thyrin’ for to do the lay-me-down-to-slape stunt back there.”
“Oh, that’s too bad!” cried Tom. “Couldn’t you save her?”
“Save her, is it!” exclaimed Mike. “Shure yez wuz there and ’tis well
yez arre afther knowin’ ’twas a-savin’ av our own souls we wuz thinkin’
av—and divvil a bit av the cat’s.”
“Derned ef I ain’t glad,” declared Pem. “Mebbe we’ll be gittin’ on a mite
better now.”
Mike grinned, winked an eye at the boys and, as he turned away, remarked,
“Shure, ye ould croaker, Oi’d not be afther countin’ av me chickens afore
they do be hatched, thin. ’Tis noine loives a cat does be afther havin’
and b’gorra by the same token she’ll be a-comin’ back and be a-drowndin’
eight toimes yit, loike as not.”
“Shet up, ye dumb fool!” shouted the old whaleman. “We’re consarned well
rid o’ her.”
“Well, we’ve still four cats aboard,” Jim reminded him teasingly. “And
two of them are black.”
Cap’n Pem glared at the boy and stumped off without another word.
Slowly the _Narwhal_ beat back to the northward. Two days later she
entered Rowe’s Welcome and came to anchor in the sheltered bay within
a short distance of the shore. Close to the spot, near the mouth of a
river, were a score or more of Eskimo skin tents, and upon the shingle
at the river’s mouth were drawn dozens of kayaks. Before the _Narwhal’s_
chains roaring from the hawse holes had roused the echoes of the
hills, the Eskimos were paddling towards the schooner. At their first
glance the boys saw that here at last were the Eskimos they had always
pictured. Clad in garments of skin and fur they came scrambling over the
_Narwhal’s_ rail, laughing and grinning, copper-faced and slant-eyed,
but far cleaner than those at Hebron or Disko, and with something about
them which at once marked them as true primitive people untouched by
civilization. Their spears, harpoons, and arrows were tipped with
ivory or bone, their faces were tattooed and their garments were highly
decorated with beads and skin embroidery.
Presently, from the waist of the ship, came roars of laughter and
good-natured shouts. The boys, glancing up, saw a number of the crew
leaning over the bulwarks while others were hurrying to join the group.
“What’n tarnation’s up now?” exclaimed Cap’n Pem as with the boys by his
side he hurried forward.
As they reached the crowd of men, Swanson straightened up from the rail
over which he was leaning, took his pipe from his mouth and grinned under
his big yellow mustache. With a humorous twinkle in his deep-set blue
eyes he remarked, “Ay tank das cat bane come back.”
As the old whaleman peered over the ship’s side, his eyes seemed about to
pop from his head, his jaw dropped and he stared down at the kayaks below
as if he had seen a ghost. Perched on the rounded skin deck of one of the
canoes was the black cat!
“Well, I’ll be everlastin’ly keelhauled!” ejaculated the old man and, as
a roar of laughter rose from the men’s throats, he jammed his cap over
his eyes and stumped aft.
But even the superstitious old whaleman could find nothing in the way
of ill luck with which to blame the cat during the next few days. The
Eskimos had quantities of walrus ivory, many fine skins and pelts and a
goodly amount of whalebone on hand, and this was soon in the _Narwhal’s_
hold while the natives were richer in calico, knives, iron, beads and
matches than they had ever dreamed of being.
Old Pem fairly beamed, and he rubbed his calloused hands gleefully as he
saw the bales, packages, and bundles being stowed. “Purty nice little
nest egg,” he chuckled. “Nigh two thousand dollars wuth o’ stuff I
reckon. Swan, if this keeps on if we don’t go sailin’ inter New Bedford
full up.”
The boys were far more interested in the Eskimos and their village than
in the skins and bone. They spent most of their time ashore, and with Mr.
Kemp or Unavik as interpreters they learned much of the Eskimos’ life
and ways. They watched them fish in the river, made friends with the
Eskimo boys, played with the roly-poly children, and spent hours in the
tents watching the women as they chewed the hides to cure them and deftly
fashioned the skins and furs into garments.
“Gee, they use bone needles!” exclaimed Jim the first time he saw one of
the women sewing a pair of moccasins, “and thimbles made of raw hide and
threads of sinew. Say, I wonder how they’d like real needles and thread.”
The next time they went ashore they carried a supply of needles, thread,
thimbles and other sewing material and presented them to the women.
Instantly the crude bone and rawhide utensils were cast aside and with
beaming faces and ejaculations of delight, the women chattered and
laughed as they experimented with the bright steel needles and shiny
thimbles. As Tom said, they were like children with new toys and when
in return—for even the least gift calls for a return present with the
Eskimos—the women loaded the boys down with exquisitely worked moccasins,
shirts of eider skins, blouse-like coats of fox and seal and robes of
wolf and musk ox skins, the two lads were as pleased and excited as the
women had been.
“Say, we’ve got to learn to talk Eskimo,” declared Tom. “It’ll be lots
more fun if we can talk to these people.”
So, with Mr. Kemp’s help, the two boys set diligently to work to learn
the Eskimos’ language and progressed rapidly. At first they found it a
most difficult task to pronounce the odd, clucking gutturals, but once
they mastered the rudiments they got on famously. Within a short time
they were able to ask questions and understand the replies, and they had
acquired quite a vocabulary of names and words.
In the meantime, the crew of the ship had not been idle. The schooner
had been stripped of sails, topmasts and yards were sent down, and
preparations made for the coming winter. Daily the whale boats had been
manned, and under their spritsails had gone dancing off across the bay in
search of whales. Sometimes they were gone for several days and returned
empty handed, but often they would come sailing back in a long line and
towing the carcasses of one or two huge bowheads. Then every one worked
like beavers, cutting in and boiling until the oil and bone were safely
under hatches.
At first the boys were crazy to go out on these hunts, but after one or
two experiences, they decided there was far more of interest about the
village and the shores, and devoted their time to hunting and paddling
about the Welcome in a kayak which they had secured for themselves.
Near the village there was little game, for the Eskimos’ dogs roamed
about, picking up every stray hare, ptarmigan, or other live thing, and
so the boys went farther and farther afield on their excursions. The
weather still held warm and pleasant, although the nights were cold
and the little ponds and lakes between the hills were coated with ice.
A few miles from the village the boys found game in abundance. One spot
in particular was a favorite hunting ground—a little island in the broad
estuary of the Welcome where the Wager River emptied into the bay. Here
there were always ducks in the coves, hares nibbled the stunted shrubs
among the rocks, ptarmigan gathered in flocks on the southern sides of
the hills, and twice the boys had secured seals which they had surprised
basking on the shore. One of these was a magnificent silver seal; the
other a half-grown hooded seal. The two handsome hides had been cured and
made into garments by the boys’ Eskimo women friends.
One day as the two boys were paddling their kayak around the island
keeping a sharp lookout for game, Jim muttered a low exclamation and
pointed towards the open water of the estuary. Tom peered intently as he
ceased paddling, but for a moment could see nothing. Then, a few hundred
yards away, something broke the surface of the water and a tiny column of
spray rose in the air.
“Golly, it’s a whale!” cried Tom in subdued tones. “Say, let’s go for
him!”
“All right,” assented Jim, “it’s a little fellow—a white whale, I guess.
Say, won’t it be fine if we can get him all by ourselves?”
Swinging the kayak, Tom drove his paddle into the water while Jim, laying
aside his rifle, got out the harpoon and placed the lance ready for use.
Apparently totally unaware that enemies were near, the creature remained
almost stationary, now and then rolling lazily at the surface, sometimes
raising its tail and bringing it down with a resounding splash as if
in play, and constantly blowing. Rapidly the kayak approached. Jim
grasped the harpoon firmly, saw that the line was clear and, shaking
with excitement, he prepared to strike. Then, as the frail craft slipped
within a dozen feet of the cetacean and Jim raised his arm, he realized
that it was no white whale, but a strange, dull-colored, bluish creature
with the skin covered with irregular blackish spots. But, whatever
it was, the animal was within striking range and, summoning all his
strength, Jim hurled the iron into the spotted animal’s back just as it
rose above the surface to blow.
The next instant a volcano seemed to have burst into eruption beneath the
waves. The water boiled and frothed; a broad tail flashed and struck and
swung to right and left, the kayak danced and careened and bobbed upon
the heaving surface. Then as Jim, frightened half out of his wits by the
actions of the strange beast, was about to cut the line, the creature
hurled itself forward and raced off like a cyclone. With a terrific
jerk the kayak swung about, tipped until it almost capsized, and went
tearing after the stricken animal. This was something the boys had not
counted on. They had watched the Eskimos when they struck white whales
and had intended to follow the native method of throwing overboard the
float of skin. They had no intention of being towed in a cranky kayak by
a maddened whale. But the line had kinked and had fouled. Jim, despite
his frantic efforts, could not free it while it was under the terrific
strain, and so it was a case of either being towed and trusting to luck
to escape being capsized and drowned, or cutting the line.
“Don’t cut it!” screamed Tom as he saw Jim raise his heavy hunting knife.
“Wait till we see we’re in danger!”
Breathing hard, thrilled with the excitement and yet filled with terror,
Jim waited, knife in hand, while the whale sped this way and that,
sounded and milled; but to the boys’ surprise, never breached. But as
the bouyant kayak continued right side up and nothing happened, the boys
gained confidence and each time the creature slackened its pace Jim
hauled in line until the kayak was almost within striking distance of
the whale. Then, so suddenly that Tom could not check the kayak’s motion,
the creature halted in its rush and the next instant dashed straight
towards the canoe.
Jim gave a terrified scream of warning. Tom dug his paddle into the water
and as the kayak responded to the effort and swung slightly, the spotted
creature dashed by within a foot of the craft.
Jim, who had been expecting to kill the animal an instant before, still
held the lance in his hand. As the cetacean rushed past him, he lunged
forward and scarcely knowing what he did, plunged the weapon into the
creature’s side. At the blow, the animal threw itself from the water,
the lance was wrenched from Jim’s grip and the boys’ eyes grew wide in
wonder. In the brief instant that the whale was out of water they had
seen that a long, gleaming shaft projected from its head!
But before they could utter a cry, before they realized what had
happened, the big spotted body crashed back into the water, bloody froth
spouted from its blow hole and with a convulsive flip of its tail it
rolled over on its side against the kayak, stone dead.
“Whew!” cried Jim, as he wiped the perspiration from his face and
blinked his eyes. “We did catch a tartar that time!”
“You bet we did!” agreed Tom heartily. “But we got him just the same.
Gosh, but that _was_ a dandy stroke of yours—getting him on the wing that
way. And did you see his head—he’s been struck before and the lance or
iron’s sticking in his nose. I wonder what the dickens he is anyway.”
“Gee Christopher!” cried Jim who had been examining their catch. “That’s
not a lance in his nose—it belongs there—it’s a sort of horn. Look, it’s
like ivory and twisted.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Tom. “I know what ’tis—we’ve killed the schooner’s
namesake. It’s a narwhal!”
“Golly, you’re right!” cried Jim. “Won’t Cap’n Pem and the others be
surprised! But say—I’d never have dared touch him if I’d known. Remember
how Mr. Kemp told us about these fellows driving their tusks right
through a whaleboat and sinking it?”
“I’ll say I do,” replied Tom. “I know what they’ll say—‘fools rush in,’
you know.”
“Well, fools or not, we won,” declared Jim, “and this old fellow’s
horn’ll make _some_ trophy up in our room.”
Elated at their unexpected capture, the boys forgot all about their hunt
and, fastening a line about the narwhal’s tail, they started to tow him
to the schooner. It was slow, backbreaking work, but when at last they
reached their vessel and showed their catch to those on board, they felt
amply rewarded for their labors.
“By the love av hivvin!” cried Mike, who was the first to see the dead
creature. “Shure and ’tis a unicorn yez do be afther killin’!”
“I’ll be swizzled!” exclaimed Cap’n Pem. “Ye everlastin’ young
scallawags, what ye mean by a-goin’ in on one o’ them critters? Ye’re
lucky he didn’t sink ye. Jes like ye though—fools allers——”
“I know it!” laughed Tom. “I told Jimmy you’d say that. But we got him
and didn’t get hurt, even if the cat did come back!”
“Jes dumb luck,” declared the old whaleman. Then, as Captain Edwards
appeared, he shouted, “Look a-here, didn’t I tell ye these here boys wuz
born to be whalers? Jes take a squint ’longside an’ see what the young
scallawags been a-doin’.”
“I’ll be——” ejaculated the skipper. “Reckon you’re proud of yourselves.
Whoppin’ big fellow, too. Give you a tussle, didn’t he?”
“Oh, not so much,” replied Tom nonchalantly. “But he had us scared. The
line fouled and he towed us every which way and then went for us. And
say, you ought to have seen Jim get him! Lanced him as he went scooting
by the kayak full speed.”
“Darned lucky he did!” declared Mr. Kemp who had joined the group. “If he
hadn’t the blamed critter’d have turned and drove his horn through that
kayak and through you too, like as not.”
“Well, we didn’t know,” laughed Jim, “or we wouldn’t have tackled him.
But I’m not sorry now. Just the same, we’ll know better next time. I’m
not a bit anxious to catch another narwhal.”
“I don’t know as we really did, this time,” said Tom. “Seems to me the
narwhal caught us and we didn’t have much to say about it.”
“H’lo!” exclaimed Unavik strolling up. “Ugh! me say bimeby you feller be
big hunter. Gimme t’bac!”