"You see it would be troublesome to carry distending sticks of great
length, because they would be in the way, and apt to get broken. Each
stick, therefore, has a joint in the middle like that of a fishing-rod.
There are four such sticks, fastened to, or radiating from, a strong
steel central hinge, so that they can be folded together, or opened out
into the form of a cross. A small but very strong cross of bamboo fits
on the machine, behind the central hinge, and locks it in a distended
position, after the silk has been placed on it. Strong cords run round
the outer edges of the silk, and there are loops at the corners to
attach it to the distenders. Thus, you see, the kite can be put up, or
folded into a portable form like an umbrella, though not of course as
quickly, nor yet as easily, owing to its great size."
While he was speaking, the Captain was busily putting the several parts
of the kite together.
As he concluded, he laid the machine on its face, locked it with the
little bamboo cross, and then held it up in triumph, to the delight of
his white observers, and the blank astonishment of the Eskimos. We say
blank, because, unlike the boat, the nature of which they understood
before it had been quite inflated, this machine was to them an absolute
mystery, and seemed to be of no use at all.
Their opinion of it was not improved when a sudden puff of wind blew it
flat on the ground, causing the Captain to fall on the top of it.
"It's a little awkward in handling," he growled, unlocking the
centre-cross. "Hold the points down, lads, till I drag it into the
umbrella form. There; it's all safe now. The truth is,
unmanageableness when in hand is the only fault of my kite. Once in the
air, it's as tractable as a lamb; getting it up is the chief difficulty,
but that is not too great to be overcome."
"Besides, you know, nothing's perfect in this world, father," said
Benjy, with a wink at Butterface, who, having acute risible tendencies,
exploded. Some of the Eskimos, whose sympathies were strong, joined in
the laugh by way of relief to their feelings.
When the Captain had wound a strap round the closed kite, to restrain
its volatile nature, he opened another large case which contained
several reels of strong cord, somewhat resembling log-lines, but with
this peculiarity, that, alongside of each thick cord there ran a thin
red line of twine, connected with though not bound to the other by means
of little loops or rings of twine fixed about six feet apart throughout
its entire length.
"These are the cords to fly the kites," said the Captain, taking up one
of the reels, which was as large as a man's hat. "You see I have three
sets of silk in that box, and six sets of reels and sticks, besides a
few spare pieces of the latter, so that we can afford to suffer a little
damage. Now, the use of this peculiar sort of double line will be clear
when in action, but I may as well explain it. The end of this stout
line is to be made fast to the band which you saw on the kite, and the
end of this thin red line to the top of its upright stick. You remember
well enough how independent ordinary kites are. You cannot cause them
to descend except by hauling them in by main force, and you cannot
moderate their pull. This kite of mine is capable of exerting a pull
equal to six horses, with a sufficiently strong wind. So, you see, it
would be impossible for a dozen men to hold it without some check on its
power. This check is supplied by the thin red line, which is made of
the strongest silk. By pulling it gently you bend the head of the kite
forward, so that it ceases to present a flat surface to the wind, which
flies off it more or less at the tail. By pulling still more on the red
line, the traction-power is still further reduced, and, with a good
pull, the kite can be made to present its head altogether to the wind,
and thus to lie flat on it, when, of course, it will descend slowly to
the ground, waving from side to side, like a dropped sheet of paper."
"Are you going to try it, father?" asked Benjy eagerly.
The Captain looked up at the clouds with a critical glance. "There's
hardly enough of wind to-day, boy. Nevertheless we will try."
In a very short time the kite was again extended, the centre locked, the
thick cord fixed to a loop in the band, and the thin cord to the head of
the main stick. While this was being done, the corners were held down
by Leo, Benjy, Anders, and Butterface.
"How about a tail, father?" asked Benjy, with sudden animation.
"Ha! I forgot the tail. I've got several tails. It's well you
reminded me."
"It is indeed," responded the boy, "for I remember well that when my
kites lost their tails they used to whirl wildly about until they dashed
their heads on the ground. This kite would be little better than a mad
elephant without its tail!"
A short tail, made of the strongest cat-gut, was now fixed to the lower
extremity of the kite. It had a bag at the end, to be weighted with
stones as required.
"Now, then, Alf, do you carry the reel away fifty yards or so, and pay
out the line as you go. Make a dozen of the Eskimos hold on with you
till I come and regulate the pull. I must remain here to set it off."
Alf did as he was ordered. When he was far enough out, the Captain and
Leo raised the aerial monster with caution, grasping it by the
shoulders, while Benjy held on to the tail. Their great care was to
keep it flat, so that it presented nothing but its thin head to the
wind, but this was a difficulty, for it kept fluttering as if anxious to
get away, catching a slant of wind underneath now and then, which caused
both Leo and the Captain to stagger.
"Don't hold down the tail, Benjy," cried the Captain, looking anxiously
over his shoulder.
Unfortunately Ben did not hear the "don't." Not only did he hold on
with increased vigour, but he gave the tail an energetic pull downwards.
The result was that the wind got fairly underneath, and the head was
jerked upward. Leo, fearing to tear the silk, let go, and the Captain
was thrown violently off. Benjy alone stood to his guns--or to his
tail--with loyal heroism for a moment, but when he felt himself lifted
off the ground a few inches, a feeling of horror seized him. He let go,
and came down with a whack.
Free at last, the huge kite shot upwards like a rocket, and a terrible
howl from the Eskimo showed that all was not right at their end of the
line. The truth was that none of them were impressed with the
importance of the duty required of them. The sudden strain jerked the
line out of the hands of some, and threw others to the ground, and Alf,
who had for greater security taken a turn of the line round his right
arm, was dragged forward at full racing speed. Indeed he was beginning
to take those tremendous bounds called "giant strides," which were sure
to terminate in his being dragged along the ground.
Captain Vane saw the danger, and was equal to the occasion. There was
little time for thought or action. Another moment and Alf would be off
the beach into the sea.
"Let go! Alf; let go!" cried Leo, in an agony of alarm.
"No, no! hold on!" shouted the Captain.
Poor Alf could not help holding on. The turns of the line round his arm
held him fast.
Another moment, and he was abreast of the Captain who sprang at him as
he passed like a leopard on his prey and held on. But the pace was
little checked with this additional weight. It was beyond the Captain's
running powers, and both he and Alf would have been thrown violently to
the ground had it not happened that they had reached the water, into
which they plunged with a tremendous splash. They were dragged through
it, however, only for a few seconds, for by that time the Captain had
succeeded in getting hold of the red line and pulling it separately.
The result was immediate and satisfactory. The head of the kite was
thrown forward, acting somewhat as a sail does when a ship is thrown
into the wind, and the two unfortunates came to an anchor in four feet
of water.
"We must not let it into the water, Alf," gasped the Captain, clearing
the water from his eyes.
"How can we prevent it?" spluttered Alf, shaking the wet hair off his
face.
"Ease your fingers a bit. There; hold on." As he spoke the Captain
gave a slight pull on the regulating line. The kite at once caught the
wind and soared, giving the two operators an awful tug, which nearly
overturned them again.
"Too much," growled the Captain. "You see it takes some experience to
regulate the excitable thing properly. There, now, haul away for the
shore."
By this time they were joined by Leo and Chingatok, who ran into the
water and aided them in dragging the refractory machine ashore.
"That's a vigorous beginning, father," remarked Benjy as they came to
land.
"It is, my boy. Go and fetch me dry clothes while we haul in the kite
and make her snug."
"When do you mean to start?" asked Leo, as he coiled away the slack of
the line on the reel.
"The first steady fair wind that blows from the south," answered the
Captain, "but we must have one or two experimental trials of the kites
and boats together, before we set out on the real voyage."
"It's a capital idea," returned Leo enthusiastically. "There's a sort
of neck-or-nothing dash about it that quite suits me. But, uncle, what
of the Eskimos? The three boats won't carry the half of them."
"I know that, lad, and shall get over the difficulty by leaving some of
them behind. Chingatok says they are quite able to take care of
themselves; can easily regain the Greenland shore, find their canoes, or
make new ones, and return to their own land if they choose."
"But, uncle," said Alf, who was by no means as reckless as his brother,
"don't you think it's rather risky to go off into an unknown sea in open
boats, for no one knows how long, to go no one knows exactly where?"
"Why, Alf," returned the Captain with a laugh, "if you were as stupid
about your scientific pursuits as you are about geographical affairs,
you would not be worth your salt. A sea's a sea, isn't it, whether
known or unknown, and the laws that affect all seas are pretty much
alike. Of course it is risky. So is going on a forlorn hope. So is
shooting with a set of fellows who don't know how to manage their guns.
So is getting on a horse, for it may kick you off or run away. So is
eating fish, for you may choke yourself. Everything, almost, is more or
less risky. You _must_ risk something if you'd discover the North Pole,
which has baffled adventurers from the days of Adam till now. And you
are wrong in saying that we shall go off for no one knows how long. The
distance from this island to the Pole is pretty nearly 200 miles. If
our kites carry us along at the rate of ten miles an hour, we shall
cover the distance in 20 hours. If we have calms or contrary winds we
may take 20 days. If storms come, we have not much to fear, for the
weather is warm,--so, too,--is the water. Then, our boats are
lifeboats--they cannot sink. As to not knowing where exactly we are
going, why, man, we're going to the North Pole. Everybody knows where
that is, and we are going to the home of Chingatok, which cannot be very
far from it."
"There, Alf, I hope you are sufficiently answered," said Leo, as he
undid the locking-gear of the kite, which by that time lay prone on its
face, as peaceful as a lamb.
The next three days were spent in flying the other kites, tying them on
the boats, acquiring experience, and making preparations for the voyage.
It was found that, with a moderate breeze, the kites towed the boats at
the rate of ten miles an hour, which was beyond the most sanguine hopes
of the Captain. Of course they could not beat to windward with them,
but they could sail with a considerable slant, and they prevented the
boats, while thus advancing, from making much leeway by means of deep
_leeboards_, such as are used even at the present day by Dutch ships.
"But I can't understand," said Benjy, after several trials had been
made, "why you should not have fitted sails to the boats, instead of
kites."
"Because a sail only a quarter the size of a kite would upset the boat,"
said the Captain, "and one small enough to suit it would be little
better than a pair of oars. This kite system is like fitting a gigantic
sail to a lilliputian boat, d'ye see?"
"I see, father. But I wish it had been a balloon. It would have been
greater fun to have gone to the Pole in a balloon!"
"A balloon will never go there, nor anywhere else, Benjy, except where
the wind carries it, for a balloon cannot be steered. It's impossible
in the nature of things--as much so as that dream of the visionary,
perpetual motion."
On the fourth day after their arrival at Great Hope Island the wind blew
strong and steady from the south, and the explorers prepared to start.
The Eskimos had been told that they were to remain behind and shift for
themselves--a piece of news which did not seem to affect them at all,
one way or other. Those who were selected to go with the explorers were
perfectly willing to do so. Chingatok, of course, was particularly
ready. So were his corpulent mother and Tekkona and Oblooria; so also
were Oolichuk, Ivitchuk, and Akeetolik.
It was a splendid sunny afternoon when the kites were finally flown and
attached to the three boats which were commanded respectively by the
Captain Leo, and Alf. These three sat at the bow of each boat
manipulating the regulators, and keeping the kites fluttering, while the
goods and provisions were put on board. Then the Eskimo women and crews
stepped in, and the stern ropes were cast loose.
"Let go the check-strings!" shouted the Captain.
This was done. The huge kites began to strain at once, and the
india-rubber boats went rushing out to sea, leaving the remainder of the
Eskimo band speechless on the shore. They stood there motionless, with
open mouths and eyes, the very embodiment of unbelieving wonder, till
the boats had disappeared on the horizon.