Most of the able-bodied men and a few of the youngsters set off next day
to obtain a supply of walrus, seal, and musk-ox flesh--or anything else
that happened to be procurable.
Mrs Mangivik and other ladies were left to look after the camp and
prepare for the return of the men, strict orders being left that no one
should go on board the ship on any pretext whatever.
But strict orders are not always obeyed. There was one little boy in
that community--not a bad boy, but a precocious and very ambitious boy--
who chanced not to hear the orders given. Whether he was partially
deaf, or purposely did not hear the orders, we cannot say. This little
boy's chief weakness was a desire to mimic. Having admired the wooden
leg on Anteek's head, and having observed where Anteek had stowed the
leg away before setting off with the hunters, he possessed himself of
it, put it on his head, and strutted about the camp to the admiration
and envy of all his compeers; for he was a very daring and domineering
boy, although small. His name was Doocheek.
Another of Doocheek's weaknesses was a desire to ape the men, and think
himself a man in consequence. This, coupled with a consuming curiosity
in regard to Nazinred's tobacco-pipe, caused him to observe--for he was
remarkably observant--that the Indian had, for the first time since he
resided among them, gone off on an expedition and left his pipe behind
him--accidentally, no doubt. Doocheek watched his opportunity and
secured the fire-bag which contained the smoking implements. Stolen
waters are sweet, even in cold climates where all the waters freeze, and
the boy cast about for a secluded place in which he might enjoy the
sweetness of his pipe to the full without fear of interruption. A blue
cavern in an iceberg might do, but the atmosphere in such caves was
rather cold. Under the cliffs there were many sheltered places, but the
juvenile members of the community were playing there, and would
certainly intrude. Out on the floes was an exposed place--to vision as
well as to wind and drift. What was left to him, then, but the ship?
Hurrying through the village in order to carry out his plans, the boy
encountered Mrs Mangivik at the entrance to her hut.
"Where are you going, Doocheek?" demanded the woman, with a look of
suspicion born of frequent experience.
With that spirit of ambiguous contradiction which would seem to prevail
among the youth of all nations, Doocheek replied, "Nowhere."
It is interesting to observe how that remarkable answer seems to satisfy
inquirers, in nine cases out of ten, everywhere! At all events Mrs
Mangivik smiled as if she were satisfied, and re-entered her hut, where
Nootka was engaged in conversation with Adolay, while she taught her how
to make Eskimo boots.
"Did not Cheenbuk forbid every one to go near the big kayak while the
men were away?" demanded the woman.
"Yes he did," answered Nootka, without raising her eyes.--"Now look
here, Ad-dolay. You turn the toe up this way, and the heel down that
way, and shove your needle in so, and then--"
"I am very sure," interrupted Mrs Mangivik, "that little Doocheek has
gone down there. There's not another little boy in the tribe but
himself would dare to do it."
"He will lose some of his skin if he does," said Nootka quietly--
referring not to any habit of the Eskimos to flay bad boys alive, but to
their tendency to punish the refractory in a way that was apt to ruffle
the cuticle.
Quite indifferent to all such prospects in store for him, the boy
hurried on until he reached the foot of the snow staircase. It had been
repaired by that time, and the deck was easily gained. Descending to a
part of the interior which was rather dark--for the boy was aware that
his deeds were evil--he sat down on a locker and opened his fire-bag.
Eskimos are not quite free from superstition. Doocheek had plenty of
natural courage, but he was apt to quail before the supernatural. Apart
from the conscience, which even in Arctic bosoms tends to produce
cowardice, the strange surroundings of the place--the deep shadows,
merging into absolute obscurity, and the feeling of mystery that
attached to everything connected with the vessel--all had the effect of
rendering Doocheek's enjoyment somewhat mixed. To look at him as he sat
there, glaring nervously on all sides, one would have been tempted to
say that his was what might be called a fearful joy. If a rat or a
mouse had scurried past him at that moment he would have fled
precipitately, but no rat or mouse moved. Probably they were all
frozen, and he had the place entirely to himself--too much to himself.
He began at that point to wish that he had brought another little boy,
or even a girl, with him, to keep up his courage and share in his
triumphant wickedness.
However, as nothing happened, his courage began to return, and he
emptied the contents of the bag on the locker. He knew exactly what to
do, for many a time had he watched the Indian fill his pipe and produce
fire with flint, steel, and tinder. Beginning with the pipe, he filled
it, and then proceeded to strike a light. Of course he found this much
more difficult than he had expected. It seemed so easy in the Indian's
hands--it was so very difficult in his! After skinning his knuckles,
however, chipping his thumb-nail, and knocking the flint out of his hand
several times, he succeeded in making the right stroke, and a shower of
sparks rewarded his perseverance.
This was charming. The place was so dark that the sparks seemed as
large and bright as stars, while the darkness that followed was deeper
by contrast. Forgetting the pipe and tobacco in this new-found joy,
Doocheek kept pelting away at the flint, sending showers of sparks past
his knees, and some of them were so large that they even fell upon the
deck before going out.
But an abrupt stop was put to his amusement. Whether it was that
something or other in the sides of the ship had given way, or the
energetic action of the boy had shaken some fastening loose, we cannot
say, but just as he was in the act of raising his hand for another
_feu-de-joie_, a shelf over his head gave way, and a perfect avalanche
of pots, pans, and noisy tin articles came down with a hideous crash on
the deck!
To leap from the locker like a bomb-shell, and go straight up the
hatchway like a rocket, was only natural. Doocheek did that as far as
was compatible with flesh and blood. He could not remember afterwards
by what process he reached the ice and found himself on the skirts of
the village. But at that point his self-control returned, and he
sauntered home--flushed, it is true, and a little winded, yet with the
_nonchalant_ air of a man who had just stepped out to "have a look at
the weather." His conscience was rather troubled, it is true, when he
thought of the fire-bag and the pipe, etcetera, left behind, but nothing
would have induced him to return for these at that time.
Towards evening the walrus-hunters returned. They had been very
successful. The sledges were loaded up with the meat of several large
animals, so that there was a prospect of unlimited feasting for more
than a week to come.
"Now, old woman," said Cheenbuk with cheery irreverence to his mother,
and with that good-natured familiarity which is often engendered by good
fortune, "stir up the lamps and get ready the marrow-bones!"
Regardless of lamps and marrow-bones, all the children of the community,
even to the smallest babes, were sucking raw blubber as children in less
favoured lands suck lollipops.
"Had you to go far?" asked Adolay.
"Not far. We found them all close by, and would have been back sooner,
but some of them fought hard and took up much time," answered Cheenbuk,
who awaited the cooking process; for since he had discovered the Indian
girl's disgust at raw meat, he had become a total abstainer on the
point.
"And," he added, beginning to pull off his boots, "if your father had
not been there with the spouter we should have been out on the floes
fighting still, for some of the walruses were savage, and hard to kill."
After supper, as a matter of course, Nazinred looked round with an air
of benign satisfaction on his fine face.
"Is my fire-bag behind you, Adolay?" he asked in a low voice.
Doocheek was present and heard the question, but of course did not
understand it, as it was put in the Dogrib tongue. The search, however,
which immediately began induced him to retire promptly and absent
himself from home for the time being.
"It is not here, father."
A more careful search was made, then a most careful one, but no fire-bag
was to be found.
"Perhaps Nootka took it to her sleeping-place to keep it safe,"
suggested old Mangivik.
No; Nootka had seen nothing of it, and Nootka was not a little annoyed
when, in spite of her assertion, a search was made in her boudoir, and
not a little triumphant when the search proved fruitless.
"Surely no one has taken it away," said Cheenbuk, looking round with an
expression that would have sunk Doocheek through the snow into the earth
if he had been there.
"_If_ any one has taken it away," said Aglootook, with a profundity of
meaning in his tone that was meant to paralyse the guilty, and serve as
a permanent caution to the innocent, "_something_ awful will happen. I
don't say what, but _something_; so it will be as well to confess, for
I'm sure to find it out--if not soon, then in a long time."
For some moments after this there was dead silence, but nobody
confessed, and they all looked at each other as if they expected some
one to go off like a cannon shot through the roof suddenly, and were
somewhat disappointed that no one did.
By degrees they began to breathe more freely, and at last some went out
to seek repose in their own huts, while the inmates of Mangivik's
dwelling began to turn in for the night. Nootka and Adolay retired to
the boudoir, and the men, drawing bear or seal-skins over them, lay
down, each where he had feasted.
Nazinred alone remained sitting up, the victim of unsatisfied craving.
North American Indians are noted for their power to conceal their
feelings, and Nazinred was not an exception to the rule, for no sign did
he betray of the longing desire for a pipe that consumed him. Only a
tendency to silence, and a deeper solemnity than usual, seemed to
indicate that all was not as he would wish.
At last he lay down. About an hour afterwards, finding that he could
not sleep, he arose, cast an envious glance at the peaceful slumberers
around him, crept through the entrance tunnel, and stood erect outside,
with a gaze of subdued inquiry at the starry host overhead. Bringing
his eyes slowly down to the things of earth, his gaze changed suddenly
into one of wild alarm.
The cause was obvious enough. When Doocheek fled from the avalanche of
pots and tins, as before mentioned, he failed to observe that one of the
sparks, which had filled him with delight, had remained nestling and
alive in a mass of cotton-waste, or some such rubbish, lying on the
lower deck. With the tendency of sparks to increase and propagate their
species, this particular one soon had a large and vigorous family of
little sparks around it. A gentle puff of wind made these little ones
lively, and induced them, after the manner of little ones everywhere, to
scatter on exploring rambles. Like juveniles, too, their food at first
was simple,--a few more mouthfuls of waste and a bit of rope here and
there; hence their progress was slow and quiet. But time and increasing
strength soon made them impatient of such light food. Ere long they
created a draught of their own, and were blown into a flame. Then some
of them laid hold of some bedding, while others seized upon a bulkhead,
and, gathering courage from success, they finally enveloped the
'tween-decks in a mass of flame.
It was at this point in the business that the eyes of Nazinred beheld a
column of smoke rising from the after-companion hatch which threw his
own smoking powers entirely into the shade, and induced him to utter an
unreasoning war-whoop that roused the Eskimo tribe as if by a shock of
electricity.
The entire population rushed out like one man. They saw the smoke, with
a lurid flame licking out here and there amid the blackness, and seeing
the Indian flying down the beach as if he were witch-possessed--as
indeed he was--they uttered a united howl, and made off in the same
direction.
Fire brigades, of course, are unknown among the Eskimos, but the way in
which Cheenbuk improvised and organised an Arctic brigade might have
roused the envy even of the London force!
Great men are always with us, though not always recognised. It requires
specially great occasions to draw them forth, and make them visible even
to themselves. Many a time in former years had Cheenbuk spilt water on
the cooking-lamp and put it out. Water at once occurred to his mind in
connection with the tremendous lamp that was now fairly alight. But
water was at that time locked up seven or eight feet under the solid
ice. The active mind of the Eskimo naturally reverted to snow ere yet
he had covered the distance between ship and shore. We say naturally,
because he was quite aware that snow also extinguished lamps.
Cutting a huge block of snow with his bone knife from the beaten plain,
he shouted in a voice of thunder: "Hi! every one. Look at me! Do as I
do!"
He shouldered the mass, sprang up the snow stair, and plunged down the
smoking hatchway.
Cheenbuk and Oolalik, who were as quick to obey as to command--perhaps
quicker--followed their leader's example. Others followed suit
according to their respective natures and capacities. Anteek, bearing a
mass nearly as big as himself, also dashed below in wild excitement.
Some of the young men tumbled their burdens of snow down the smoking
hole and went back for more. Even old Mangivik did that as fast as his
rheumatic limbs would let him. Raventik, reckless as usual, sprang down
with a mighty lump, but finding the atmosphere below uncongenial, hurled
it towards his predecessors, and sprang up again for a fresh supply,
watering at the eyes and choking. The poor invalid Ondikik walked as
hard as his fast-failing strength would permit. The women even, led by
the thoroughly roused Cowlik, bore their share in the work. The
children took prompt advantage of the occasion to enjoy by far the
wildest game that had ever yet been suggested to their imaginations, and
Aglootook the magician, seeing that _something_ had come at last to
verify his predictions, stood by the capstan and appointed himself to
the command of the upper deck brigade, while the others were battling
with the flames below.
The battle was indeed a tough one; for the fire had got a firm hold, not
only of the materials already mentioned, but also of a mass of canvas
and cordage in what must have been the sail-maker's department, and the
smoke was growing so dense that it was becoming difficult for the
firemen to breathe.
"Here! Nazinred, Oolalik, throw the biggest lumps you can lift over
_there_."
Cheenbuk pointed to what seemed a red-hot spot in the dense smoke before
them, and set them the example by heaving a gigantic mass at the same
place.
A tremendous hiss came forth as the snow was converted into steam, but
there was no abatement in the roar of the devouring element as it licked
up everything around it, making the iron bolts red, and, though not
themselves combustible, assistants to combustion.
"More snow, Anteek! more snow!" gasped Cheenbuk.
The boy, with a mass of half-melted snow still in his hand, sprang up
the ladder, scarce knowing what he did, and appeared on deck, blackened
and wildly dishevelled. Aglootook was close to the opening at the
moment, giving sententious directions to some little boys. Anteek
hurled the snow-mass full at his face with the force of an ardent nature
intensified by contempt, and sent him sprawling among the children as he
leaped over the side to carry out his orders.
But no energy on the part of Cheenbuk and his comrades, no efforts on
the part of their assistants, strong or feeble, could avert that ship's
doom. Ere long the smoke and heat between decks became unbearable, and
drove the gallant leaders back, inch by inch, foot by foot, until they
were compelled to take refuge on the upper deck, when nothing more could
be done to arrest the progress of the flames. They retired therefore to
the quarter-deck, where the whole of the Eskimos--men, women, and
children--assembled to look on at the destruction which they could not
now prevent.
"This is a great loss," observed Cheenbuk regretfully, as he sat on the
after-rail, mopping the perspiration off his blackened face with his
sleeve.
"It might have been a greater loss," said Nazinred, glancing towards the
well-filled storehouses on shore.
"That is true; but just think of what a supply of wood for spears and
sledges! It would have been enough to last the lives of our children's
children, if not longer."
"Did I not tell you that _something_ would happen?" said Aglootook,
coming forward at that moment.
"Yes, and something did happen," said old Mangivik, "though I could not
see how it happened, for the smoke. Did not a lump of snow fly in your
face and knock you over among the children?"
The magician ignored the question altogether, and, turning to Cheenbuk,
asked if he thought there was yet any chance of saving the ship.
"Not unless you manage to send some of your magic down and stop the
fire."
"That is not possible," returned the other, with a wisely grave look.
"I can do much, but I cannot do that."
As he spoke, a fresh roar of the fire up the hatch-way attracted
attention. Gathering strength, it burst up in a bright flame, showing
that the quarter-deck could not long remain a place of security.
Suddenly Nazinred showed signs of excitement which were very unusual in
him. Fighting the walrus or bear, or battling with the fire, had never
produced such an expression as crossed his face, while he cast a hasty
glance round on the women and children, whose forms were by that time
lit up by the dull red glow that issued from the column of smoke.
"Cheenbuk," he said in a low voice, "the black stuff that I put in my
spouter is kept by traders in round things--I forget the name. If there
is one of these round things here, and it catches fire, we shall, every
one of us, with the ship, be sent up to the stars!"
The remark was meant to reach the ear of the leader alone, but several
of those around heard it, and a wild rush was instantly made for the
snow stair, amid feminine and juvenile shrieks. Aglootook incontinently
hurled himself over the side, and fell on his hands and knees on the
ice, where an opportune snow-drift saved him. Most of the party ran or
leaped out of the threatened danger.
"Does not my father think that we should go?" asked Cheenbuk, who began
to feel uneasy as a fresh burst of flame set fire to the canvas awning,
and made the place they stood on unpleasantly hot.
"Yes, my son, he does," replied Nazinred; "but it does not become men to
_run_ from danger."
So saying he began to move as if in a funeral procession, closely
followed by Cheenbuk, Oolalik, and old Mangivik.
As they reached the head of the staircase something like an explosion
occurred, for the deck was partially burst up by the heat. The three
Eskimos, who did not think their dignity affected by haste, leaped down
the stair in two bounds, but Nazinred did not alter his walk in the
least. Step by step he descended deliberately, and walked in stolid
solemnity to the spot on which the community had assembled as a place of
safety.
They did not speak much after that, for the sight was too thrilling and
too novel to admit of conversation. Shouts and exclamations alone broke
forth at intervals.
The danger to which they had been exposed while on the quarter-deck
became more apparent when a clear bright flame at length shot upwards,
and, catching some of the ropes, ran along and aloft in all directions.
Hitherto the fire had been much smothered by its own smoke and the want
of air below, but now that it had fairly burst its bonds and got
headway, it showed itself in its true character as a fierce and
insatiable devourer of all that came in its way.
Catching hold of the awning over the deck, it swept fore and aft like a
billow, creating such heat that the spectators were forced to retreat to
a still safer distance. From the awning it licked round the masts,
climbed them, caught the ropes and flew up them, sweeping out upon the
yards to their extreme ends, so that, in a few minutes, the ship was
ablaze from hold to truck, and stem to stern.
Then the event which Nazinred had referred to occurred. The flames
reached the powder magazine. It exploded, and the terrified natives
yelled their feelings, while the entire structure went up into the
heavens with a roar to which the loudest thunder could not compare, and
a sheet of intense light that almost blinded them.
The explosion blew out every fork of flame, great and small, and left an
appalling blackness by contrast, while myriads of red-hot fragments fell
in a shower on the ice, and rebounded from it, like evil spirits dancing
around the tremendous wreck that they had caused.
Fortunately the Eskimos were beyond the range of the fiery shower. When
they ventured, with awe-stricken looks, to approach the scene of the
catastrophe, only a yawning cavern in the floe remained to tell of the
stately vessel that had thus ended her final voyage.