THE CZARINA
Now it happened that the same morning the three hunters set forth from
Eskimo town to hunt I-wok, the mighty, another hunter had started upon
the same quest.
The day following that in which Tunkine found his friend Eiseeyou lying
wounded under the carcass of the great polar bear, another white bear,
perhaps not quite as large as the Czar, appeared at the foot of the
mountain. This was the Czarina, the mate of the White Czar who had
been called from hibernation in some strange way by her mate's death.
She easily found the trail of her comrade leading up the mountainside
and finally followed it to the place where the dead bear lay. Although
he was divested of his white coat, yet she had no difficulty in
recognizing him.
First she spent a day and a night in seeming deep grief, lying in the
snow by his side. Then she yielded to the urge of hunger, and, sad to
relate, made a good meal upon him. Having satisfied the gnawing at her
vitals, she turned back towards the seashore where the white bears had
been spending the last two months.
But hunting was poor in the land of Omingmong. The seals and walrus
were all further south, where they were slowly following the first
movements of the ice northward. So, as the hunting was poor and she
was restless, being heavy with young, the Czarina started southward
following upon the ice almost parallel with the three heavily loaded
komatiks, upon one of which was the white coat of her mate. She did not
go as far southward as they did, however, but stopped about ten miles
north of Eskimo Town, and took up her abode in a cave in the side of
a cliff which fringed the sea. Here she gave birth to two white cubs,
blind and almost hairless.
Ordinarily while she was nursing the small bears, her mate would have
hunted for her, but he was dead; so the responsibility for her own
food and the sustenance of the two cubs fell upon the mother bear. Thus
it happened that this white hunter came forth to hunt along the icefloe
on the same morning that the Eskimo party started out.
But she was up much earlier than they. For two hours before the tardy
arctic sun finally appeared, she had been lying upon the ice, partly
shielded by an upturned cake, watching a pair of walrus which were
disporting themselves in the open water nearby.
She would have much preferred hunting seal, as walrus hunting is
dangerous sport.
Just across from where she lay a point of land jutted far out into
the open water, and the cow and the bull walrus finally climbed upon
some rocks to sun. The sun's rays were still very feeble, but this was
better than nothing.
After watching them closely for a long time, the white bear saw another
cow walrus climb upon a rock nearby. Her calf stayed in the water
disporting himself and occasionally popping up his round head, which
was not shaped like anything in particular. The calf himself was a fat
rotund bundle of flesh, weighing perhaps a hundred pounds. Anyhow he
looked good to the hungry mother bear as she lay on the ice watching.
Finally she decided that the bull was asleep. The cow also seemed to be
dozing. This was her chance, so she silently slipped into the water and
swam slowly towards them, keeping just the tip of her nose in sight.
In this manner she proceeded until she was within a hundred feet of
them. Then she inflated her great lungs and silently sank from sight.
It was to be a sort of submarine attack.
For an instant, twenty-five feet nearer, the white nose again appeared.
Then all was still about the walrus family.
In the meantime, the calf had decided it was time to feed and was at
the water's edge calling for the cow to come down to him.
The walrus calf suckles under water, just as the young hippopotamus
does. It was not until a hippopotamus in captivity gave birth to a
youngster, that this fact was known. Then the care takers in the
circus killed the calf by trying to make it suckle above water.
Although the walrus mother is a great fat mountain without shape or
beauty, yet her love for her calf is very beautiful. She guards and
mothers it as faithfully as the most fastidious heifer. So she slipped
down into the water and the calf began feeding. This was not just as
the white hunter had planned, but she was almost upon them and could
not turn back.
Presently, as the calf came to the surface to breathe, it uttered a
plaintive bleat and struggling sank from sight.
With an agonized cry the mother walrus turned just in time to see the
white coat of the dread hunter sink in the dark water carrying the
struggling calf with it.
Her cry of distress and appeal was like a call to battle to the
sleeping bull. It is an unwritten law in the chivalric code of the male
walrus that he defend his mate and his young with his life. So, with a
roar of rage that echoed along the frozen ice field, the bull splashed
into the water.
But the great walrus fought at a disadvantage, for the white hunter
came up to breathe only when it was necessary.
They would charge at her as soon as the white head appeared above the
water, but immediately she sank from sight.
But the walrus calf was a bulky weight to carry and it had a tendency
to rise to the surface. The bear several times narrowly missed being
struck by the mighty swimmers as they charged at her. They churned
up the water until it was covered with foam and the small cakes of
floating ice danced like corks. But all the time the cunning bear was
working her way to the solid ice. Finally, when she had become nearly
winded, she climbed out on the solid ice, just as the enraged bull came
bellowing to its edge.
Once on the firm ice, she struck the helpless calf a crushing blow on
its head and it lay still.
It would have been a simple matter to have trotted back to the cave
with the calf had not the unexpected happened.
Just as the mother bear had taken a good hold on the calf and started
on the homeward journey, the three komatiks from Eskimo Town came upon
the ice. The hunters at once spied the great white bear, and the walrus
hunt was immediately changed into a bear hunt. They cut the traces and
let the dogs loose, and in five minutes the yelping pack had overtaken
the white hunter.
But she did not abandon the calf which had cost her so much trouble
without a struggle. She laid it on the ice and waited for the pack. The
first dog that ventured too near was sent to the happy hunting ground
with a single blow.
This cooled the ardor of the pack and the Eskimos could only get them
to follow at a distance. As the men themselves had only their harpoons
with them, they could not come to very close grips with the bear. So a
running fight was kept up for two miles. Finally the bear decided to
abandon her kill and leave the calf behind on the ice. After that, she
loped away to the north with such a long stride that she soon left the
hunters behind. But this was not until they had noted that she was a
female bear, probably with young.
The three hunters held a counsel of war and finally decided to return
to the walrus hunt and go after the white bear another day. She never
would be hunting in these waters, they reasoned, unless she was staying
in the region permanently. So, although they finally let her go, yet
they felt sure they would find her again some other day when they
should have their high power rifles along.
When the three hunters returned to the water's edge where the Czarina
had clambered out with the walrus calf ten minutes before, they found
the old walrus bull still splashing up and down in the water looking
for the white destroyer. He was so enraged and so bent on venting his
fury on the slayer of his offspring that he was not as wary as usual;
so they had a good chance to steal upon him. Eiseeyou went first,
creeping along on his belly. In his right hand he carried a harpoon to
which was attached a long rawhide rope.
Usually when the Eskimo harpoons a walrus he pulls out the handle
of the harpoon and leaves the walrus free to swim away with the head
sticking in him. This is because the head is attached to a cord, and
that in turn is attached to a float. When the walrus has dragged the
float about on the water until he is tired, the Eskimo will creep up on
him in a kayak, one of their small skin boats, and shoot him or spear
him to death. But today they planned to hold the walrus fast as soon as
they had harpooned him.
Tunkine followed fifty feet behind Eiseeyou, with the end of the rope,
and a sharp spear, to which it was attached.
Finally when Eiseeyou reached the edge of the ice, he signed to Tunkine
that he was ready and to look out. Then he raised himself cautiously on
one elbow. Just at that moment the bull reared his head high above the
water and Eiseeyou flung his harpoon like lightning.
It sank deep in the bull's neck and he at once whirled and started for
the open sea. But Tunkine was ready for him. At the moment Eiseeyou had
flung the harpoon, he had driven the sharp pointed spear to which the
rope was fastened, deep into the ice.
Eiseeyou sprang to his assistance and together they held the upper end
of the spear. The rawhide tightened until one would have thought it
would snap. But it is very tough, much stronger than rope of an equal
size. For a few seconds the bull strained at it with all his might,
while the two Eskimos held their breath with suspense, but the rope and
the spear held. Then the infuriated bull came splashing and bellowing
back to the edge of the ice. The water was dyed crimson with his blood.
He lashed it into white foam. Back and forth he raced, first trying to
get at his captors and then trying vainly to break away.
But the rope was like a deadly thing, slowly but surely reeling him in.
The two Eskimos wound the rope up gradually about the spear, until they
had the bull held fast close to the ice.
By this time he was too tired out and exhausted from loss of blood to
struggle. So while Tunkine held the rope, Eiseeyou crept up carefully
and delivered Several deadly thrusts with another harpoon. Finally the
mighty monster of the Arctic ceased his struggling and the Eskimos knew
he was dead.
Then they rigged a double pulley of their own make, which they had
brought along on one of the komatiks and slowly walked the great two
thousand pound walrus on to the ice.
They then set to work with their sharp knives to skin him and to cut
him up. In an incredibly short time the great bull was skinned, cut up,
and loaded upon the three sledges, and the successful hunters set off
for Eskimo Town. They had not only killed the walrus and there would be
plenty of meat for all, but they had also discovered the white bear,
and that promised another exciting hunt for another day. So they were
well content.