THE ARCTIC THEATRE ENLARGED UPON--GREAT SUCCESS OF THE FIRST PLAY--THE
ESQUIMAUX SUBMIT AND BECOME FAST FRIENDS.
The 1st of December was a great day on board the _Dolphin_, for on that
day it was announced to the crew that "The Arctic Theatre" would be
opened, under the able management of Mr F. Ellice, with the play of
"Blunderbore; or, The Arctic Giant". The bill, of which two copies were
issued gratis to the crew, announced that the celebrated Peter Grim,
Esquire, who had so long trodden the boards of the _Dolphin_ with
unparalleled success, had kindly consented to appear in the character of
_Blunderbore_ for one winter only. The other parts were as
follows:--_Whackinta_, a beautiful Esquimaux widow, who had been
captured by two Polar bears, both of which were deeply in love with her,
by Frederick Ellice, Esquire. _First Bear_, a big one, by Terence
O'Riley, Esquire. _Second Bear_, a little one, by David Summers,
Esquire. _Ben Bolt_, a brave British seaman, who had been wrecked in
Blunderbore's desolate dominions, all the crew having perished except
himself, by John Buzzby, Esquire. These constituted the various
characters of the piece, the name of which had been kept a profound
secret from the crew, until the morning of the day, on which it was
acted.
Fred's duties as manager and author upon this occasion were by no means
light, for his troop, being unaccustomed to study, found the utmost
difficulty in committing the simplest sentences to memory. O'Riley
turned out to be the sharpest among them, but having agreed to
impersonate the First Bear, and having to act his part in dumb show--
bears not being supposed capable of speech--his powers of memory had not
to be exerted. Grim was also pretty good, but Davie Summers could not
be got to remember even the general arrangements of the piece; and as
for Buzzby, he no sooner mastered a line than he forgot the one before
it, and almost gave it up in despair; but by dint of much study and many
rehearsals in secret, under the superintendence of Fred and Tom
Singleton, who undertook to assist, they succeeded at last in going
through with it, with only a few mistakes.
On the morning of the 1st December, while the most of the crew were away
at Red Snow Valley cutting moss, Fred collected his _Corps Dramatique_
for a last rehearsal in the forecastle, where they were secure from
interruption, the place being so cold that no one would willingly go
into it except under the force of necessity. A dim lantern lit up the
apartment faintly.
"We must do it without a mistake this time," said Fred Ellice, opening
his book and calling upon Grim to begin.
"'Tis cold," began Grim.
"Stop, you're wrong."
"Oh, so I am!" cried Grim, slapping his thigh; "I'll begin again." It
may be remarked here that although Blunderbore was supposed to be an
Esquimaux monarch, he was compelled to speak English, being
unfortunately ignorant--if we may so speak--of his native tongue!
"Oh! 'tis a dismal thing," began Grim again, "to dwell in solitude and
cold! 'Tis very cold," (Grim shuddered here tremendously) "and--and--
what's next?"
"Hunger," said Fred.
"Hunger gnaws my vitals. My name is Blunderbore. 'Twere better had I
been born a Blunderbuss, 'cause then I have _gone off_ and dwelt in
climes more shootable to my tender constitoosion. Ha! is that a bear I
sees before me?"
"It's not _sees_," interrupted Fred.
At this moment a tremendous roar was heard, and O'Riley bounded from
behind a top-sail which represented an iceberg, dressed from head to
foot in the skin of a white bear which had been killed a few days
before.
"Stop, O'Riley," cried Fred, "you're too soon, man. _I_ have to come on
first as an Esquimaux woman, and when Grim says to the woman he wishes
he could see a bear, _then_ you are to come."
"Och! whirra, but me brains is confuged intirely wid it all," said
O'Riley, rising on his hind-legs and walking off with his tail,
literally as well as figuratively, between his legs.
"Now, Buzzby, now; it's _your_ time--when you hear the word `misery'
come on and fight like a Trojan with the bears. The doctor will remind
you."
Fred was remarkably patient and painstaking, and his pupils, though not
apt scholars, were willing, so that the morning rehearsal was gone
through with fewer mistakes than might have been expected, and when the
crew came back to dinner about mid-day, which, however, was as dark as
midnight, their parts were sufficiently well got up, and nothing
remained to be done but to arrange the stage and scenery for the
evening's entertainment--it having been resolved that the performance
should commence after supper. The stage was at the after part of the
cabin, and raised about a foot above the deck, and its management had
been intrusted to the doctor, who, assisted by Peter Grim, transformed
that portion of the ship into a scene so romantically beautiful that the
first sight of it petrified the crew with surprise. But until the
curtain should rise all arrangements were carefully concealed from
everyone except the _dramatis personae_. Even the captain and officers
were forbidden to peep behind the sail that formed a curtain to the
stage, and this secrecy, besides being necessary, was extremely useful,
inasmuch as it excited the curiosity of the men and afforded them food
for converse and speculation, for a week before the great day arrived.
The longed-for hour came at last. The cabin tables having been removed,
and rows of seats placed in front of the stage, the men were admitted
from the deck, to which they had been expelled an hour previous in order
not to impede preliminary arrangements. There was great joking, of
course, as they took their seats and criticised the fittings up. David
Mizzle was of opinion that the foot-lights "wos oncommon grand", which
was an unquestionable fact, for they consisted of six tin lamps filled
with seal-oil, from the wicks of which rose a compound of yellow flame
and smoke that had a singularly luminous effect. Amos Parr guessed that
the curtain would be certain sure to get jammed at the first haul, and
several of the others were convinced that O'Riley would stick his part
in one way or another. However, an end was put to all remarks, and
expectation raised on tiptoe by the ringing of a small hand-bell, and
immediately thereafter a violent pulling at the curtain which concealed
the stage; but the curtain remained immovable (they always do on such
occasions), and a loud whispering was heard behind the scenes.
"Clap on extra tackle and call all hands to hoist away," suggested one
of the audience.
The laugh with which this advice was received was checked in the bud by
the sudden rising of the curtain with such violence that the whole
framework of the theatre shook again.
For a few seconds a dead silence reigned, for the men were stricken dumb
with genuine amazement at the scene before them. The stage was covered
with white sheets arranged in such a manner as to represent snow, and
the more effectually to carry out the idea, several huge blocks of real
ice and a few patches of snow were introduced here and there, the cold
in the after-part of the cabin being too great to permit of their
melting. A top-gallant sail, on which were painted several blue cracks
and some strong white lights, did duty for an iceberg, and filled up the
whole back of the scene. In front of this, in the centre of the stage,
on an extemporised hummock, sat Peter Grim as the Giant Blunderbore.
His colossal proportions were enhanced by the addition of an entire
white bearskin to his ordinary hairy dress, and which was thrown round
his broad shoulders in the form of a tippet. A broad scarlet sash was
tied round his waist, and a crown of brown paper, painted in alternate
diamonds of blue, red, and yellow, sat upon his brow. Grim was in truth
a magnificent-looking fellow, with his black beard and moustache; and
the mock-heroic frown with which he gazed up (as one of the audience
suggested) at the Aurora Borealis, while he grasped an enormous club in
his right hand, became him well.
The first few seconds of dead silence, with which this was received,
were succeeded by a long and loud burst of applause, the heartiness of
which plainly showed that the scene far exceeded the expectations of the
men.
"Bravo!" cried the captain, "excellent! nothing could be better."
"It beats natur, quite," said one.
"All to sticks," cried another.
"And wot a tree-mendous giant he makes. Three cheers for Peter Grim,
lads!"
Three cheers were promptly given, with right good-will, but the Giant
did not move a muscle. He was far too deeply impressed with the
importance of playing his part well to acknowledge the compliment.
Having gazed long enough to enable the men to get rid of their first
flow of enthusiasm, Blunderbore rose majestically, and, coming forward
to the foot-lights, looked straight over the heads of the men, and
addressed himself to the opposite bulkhead.
"Oh! 'tis a dismal thing," he began, and continued to spout his part
with flashing eyes and considerable energy until he came to the word
Blunderbuss, when, either from a mistaken notion as to when it was his
time to go on, or nervous forgetfulness of the plan of the piece, the
Little Bear sprang over the edge of the iceberg and alighted on the
middle of the stage.
"Oh! bad luck to yees intirely," said the Big Bear from behind the
scenes in an angry whisper, which was distinctly heard by the audience,
"ye've gone and spoiled it all, ye have. Come off, will ye, and take
yer turn at the right time, won't ye?"
In the midst of the shout of delight caused by this mistake, O'Riley,
forgetting that he was a bear, rushed on the stage on his hind-legs,
seized the Little Bear by the fore-leg, and dragged him off at the other
side amid loud applause. Blunderbore, with admirable self-possession,
resumed his part the instant there was a calm, and carried it
successfully to a close.
Just as he ended, Fred waddled on, in the guise of an Esquimaux woman,
and so well was he got up that the crew looked round to see if Aninga
(who, with her husband, had been allowed to witness the play) was in her
place. Fred had intentionally taken Aninga as his model, and had been
very successful in imitating the top-knot of hair. The baby, too, was
hit off to perfection, having been made by Mivins, who proved himself a
genius in such matters. Its head was a ball of rags covered with brown
leather, and two white bone buttons with black spots in the centre did
duty for its eyes.
The first thing Whackinta did on coming forward was to deposit the baby
on the snow with its head downwards by mistake, whereat it began to
scream vociferously. This scream was accomplished by Davie Summers
creeping below the stage, and putting his mouth to a hole in the
flooring, close to which the baby's head lay. Davie's falsetto was
uncommonly like to a child's voice, and the effect was quite startling.
Of course Whackinta tried to soothe it, and, failing in this she whipped
it, which caused it to yell with tenfold violence. Thereafter, losing
all patience, she covered its face and stuffed its mouth with a quantity
of snow, and, laying it down on its back, placed a large block of ice on
its head. This, as might be expected, had the desired effect, and the
baby was silenced,--not, however, until Whackinta had twice called down
the hole in a hoarse whisper: "That'll do, Davie; stop, man, stop!"
Then, sitting down on the hummock which Blunderbore had just left--and
from behind which he was now eagerly watching her,--she began to weep.
Having given full vent to her feelings in a series of convulsive sobs,
Whackinta addressed a lengthened harangue, in a melancholy tone of
voice, to the audience, the gist of which was that she was an
unfortunate widow; that two bears had fallen in love with her, and
stolen her away from her happy home in Nova Zembla; and, although they
allowed her to walk about as much as she chose, they watched her closely
and prevented her escaping to her own country. Worst of all, they had
told her that she must agree to become the wife of one or other of them,
and if she did not make up her mind, and give them an answer that very
day, she was to be killed and eaten by both of them. In order the more
strongly to impress the audience with her forlorn condition, Whackinta
sang a tender and touching ditty, composed by herself expressly for the
occasion, and sang it so well that it was encored twice.
To all this Blunderbore listened with apparent rapture, and at length
ventured to advance and discover himself, but the instant Whackinta saw
him she fell on her knees and trembled violently.
"Spare me, good king," she said; "do not slay me. I am a poor widow,
and have been brought here by two bears against my will."
"Woman," said the Giant, "my name is Blunderbore. I am, as you perceive
by my crown, a king, and I am a lonely man. If I kill the two bears you
speak of, will you marry me?"
"Oh, do not ask me, good Blunderbore, I cannot! It is impossible. I
cannot love you; you are--forgive me for saying it--too big, and fierce,
and ugly to love."
Blunderbore frowned angrily, and the audience applauded vociferously at
this.
"You cannot love me! Hah!" exclaimed the Giant, glaring round with
clenched teeth.
At this moment the Big Bear uttered an awful roar, Whackinta gave a
piercing scream and fled, and Blunderbore hid himself hastily behind the
hummock. The next moment the two bears bounded on the stage and began
to gambol round it, tossing up their hind-legs and roaring and leaping
in a manner that drew forth repeated plaudits. At length the Little
Bear discovered the baby, and, uttering a frantic roar of delight, took
it in its fore-paws and held it up. The Big Bear roared also of course,
and, rushing forward, caught the baby by the leg, and endeavoured to
tear it away from the Little Bear, at which treatment the poor baby
again commenced to cry passionately. In the struggle the baby's head
came off, upon which the Little Bear put the head into its mouth and
swallowed it. The Big Bear immediately did the same with the body; but
its mouth was too small, and the body stuck fast and could not be
finally disposed of until the Little Bear came to the rescue and pushed
it forcibly down its throat. Having finished this delicate little
morsel, the two bears rose on their hind-legs and danced a hornpipe
together--Tom Singleton playing the tune for them on a flute behind the
scenes. When this was done they danced off the stage, and immediately,
as if in the distance, was heard the voice of a man singing. It came
gradually nearer, and at last Buzzby, in the character of Ben Bolt,
swaggered up to the foot-lights with his hands in his breeches pockets.
"I'm a jolly, jolly tar,
Wot has comed from afar,
An' it's all for to seek my fortin,"
sang Buzzby. "But I've not found it yit," he continued, breaking into
prose, "and there don't seem much prospect o' findin' it here anyhow.
Wot an 'orrible cold place it is, ugh!"
Buzzby was received with enthusiastic cheers, for he was dressed in the
old familiar blue jacket, white ducks, pumps, and straw hat set jauntily
on one side of his head--a costume which had not been seen for so many
months by the crew of the _Dolphin_ that their hearts warmed to it as if
it were an old friend.
Buzzby acted with great spirit and was evidently a prime favourite. He
could scarcely recollect a word of his part, but he remembered the
general drift of it, and had ready wit enough to extemporise. Having
explained that he was the only survivor of a shipwrecked crew, he
proceeded to tell some of his adventures in foreign lands, and
afterwards described part of his experiences in a song, to which the
doctor played an accompaniment behind the scenes. The words were
composed by himself, sung to the well-known Scotch air, "Corn Riggs",
and ran as follows:--
"The Jolly Tar.
"My comrades, you must know
It was many years ago
I left my daddy's cottage in the green wood O!
And I jined a man-o'-war
An' became a jolly tar,
An' fought for king and country on the high seas O!
Pull, boys, cheerily, our home is on the sea.
Pull, boys, merrily and lightly O!
Pull, boys, cheerily, the wind is passing
free
An' whirling up the foam and water sky-high O!
"There's been many a noble fight,
But Trafalgar was the sight
That beat the Greeks and Romans in their glory O!
For Britain's jolly sons
Worked the thunder-blazing guns,
And Nelson stood the bravest in the fore-front O!
Pull, boys, etcetera.
"A roaring cannon shot
Came an' hit the very spot
Where my leg goes click-an'-jumble in the socket O!
And swept it overboard
With the precious little hoard
Of pipe, an' tin, an' baccy in the pocket O!
Pull, boys, etcetera.
"They took me down below,
An' they laid me with a row
Of killed and wounded messmates on a table O!
Then up comes Dr Keg,
An' says, Here's a livin' leg
I'll sew upon the stump if I am able O!
Pull, boys, etcetera.
"This good and sturdy limb
Had belonged to fightin' Tim,
An' scarcely had they sewed it on the socket O!
When up the hatch I flew,
An' dashed among the crew,
An' sprang on board the Frenchman like a rocket O!
Pull, boys, etcetera.
"'Twas this that gained the day,
For that leg it cleared the way--
And the battle raged like fury while it lasted O!
Then ceased the shot and shell
To fall upon the swell,
And the Union-Jack went bravely to the mast-head O!
Pull, boys, etcetera."
We need scarcely say that this song was enthusiastically encored, and
that the chorus was done full justice to by the audience, who picked it
up at once and zang it with lusty vehemence. At the last word Ben Bolt
nodded familiarly, thrust his hands into his pockets, and swaggered off
whistling "Yankee Doodle". It was a matter of uncertainty where he had
swaggered off to, but it was conjectured that he had gone on his journey
to anywhere that might turn up.
Meanwhile Blunderbore had been bobbing his head up and down behind the
hummock in amazement at what he heard and saw, and when Ben Bolt made
his exit he came forward. This was the signal for the two bears to
discover him and rush on with a terrific roar. Blunderbore instantly
fetched them each a sounding whack on their skulls, leaped over both
their backs, and bounded up the side of the iceberg, where he took
refuge, and turned at bay on a little ice pinnacle constructed expressly
for that purpose.
An awful fight now ensued between the Giant and the two bears. The
pinnacle on which Blunderbore stood was so low that the Big Bear, by
standing up on its hind-legs, could just scratch his toes, which caused
the Giant to jump about continually, but the sides of the iceberg were
so smooth that the bears could not climb up it. This difficulty,
indeed, constituted the great and amusing feature of the fight, for no
sooner did the Little Bear creep up to the edge of the pinnacle than the
Giant's tremendous club came violently down on his snout (which had been
made of hard wood on purpose to resist the blows) and sent it sprawling
back on the stage, where the Big Bear invariably chanced to be in the
way, and always fell over it. Then they both rose, and, roaring
fearfully, renewed the attack, while Blunderbore laid about him with the
club ferociously. Fortune, however, did not on this occasion favour the
brave. The Big Bear at last caught the Giant by the heel and pulled him
to the ground; the Little Bear instantly seized him by the throat, and,
notwithstanding his awful yells and struggles, it would have gone ill
with Blunderbore had not Ben Bolt opportunely arrived at that identical
spot at that identical moment in the course of his travels.
Oh! it was a glorious thing to see the fear-nothing, dare-anything
fashion in which, when he saw how matters stood, Ben Bolt threw down his
stick and bundle, drew his cutlass, and attacked the two bears at once,
single-handed, crying "Come on," in a voice of thunder. And it was a
satisfactory thing, to behold the way, in which he cut and slashed at
their heads (the heads having been previously prepared for such
treatment), and the agility he displayed in leaping over their backs and
under their legs, and holding on by their tails, while they vainly
endeavoured to catch him. The applause was frequent and prolonged, and
the two Esquimaux prisoners rolled about their burly figures and laughed
till the tears ran down their fat cheeks. But when Ben Bolt suddenly
caught the two bears by their tails, tied them together in a double
knot, and fled behind a hummock, which the Big Bear passed on one side
and the little Bear on the other, and so, as a matter of course, stuck
hard and fast, the laughter was excessive; and when the gallant British
seaman again rushed forward, massacred the Big Bear with two terrific
cuts, slew the Little Bear with one tremendous back-hander, and then
sank down on one knee and pressed his hand to his brow as if he were
exhausted, a cheer ran from stem to stern of the _Dolphin_, the like of
which had not filled the hull of that good ship, since she was launched
upon her ocean home!
It was just at this moment that Whackinta chanced, curiously enough, to
return to this spot in the course of _her_ wanderings. She screamed in
horror at the sight of the dead bears, which was quite proper and
natural, and then she started at the sight of the exhausted Bolt, and
smiled sweetly--which was also natural--as she hastened to assist and
sympathise with him. Ben Bolt fell in love with her at once, and told
her so off-hand, to the unutterable rage of Blunderbore, who recovered
from his wounds at that moment and, seizing the sailor by the throat,
vowed he would kill, and quarter, and stew, and boil, and roast, and eat
him in one minute if he didn't take care what he was about.
The audience felt some fears for Ben Bolt at this point, but their
delight knew no bounds when, shaking the Giant off, and springing
backwards, he buttoned up his coat and roared, rather than said, that
though he were all the Blunderbores and Blunderbusses in the world
rolled together, and changed into one immortal blunder-cannon, he didn't
care a pinch of bad snuff for him, and would knock all the teeth in his
head down his throat. This valorous threat he followed up by shaking
his fist close under the Giant's nose, and crying out: "Come on!"
But the Giant did not come on; he fortunately recollected that he owed
his life to the brave sailor, so he smiled, and, saying he would be his
friend through life, insisted on seizing him by the hand and shaking it
violently. Thereafter he took Ben Bolt and Whackinta by their right
hands, and, leading them forward to the foot-lights, made them a long
speech to the effect that he owed a debt of gratitude to the former for
saving his life which he could never repay, and that he loved the latter
too sincerely to stand in the way of her happiness. Then he joined
their right hands, and they went down on one knee, and he placed his
hands on their heads, and looked up at the audience with a benignant
smile, and the curtain fell amid rapturous cheers.
In this play it seemed somewhat curious and unaccountable that Whackinta
forgot to enquire for her demolished baby, and appeared to feel no
anxiety whatever about it; it was also left a matter of uncertainty
whether Ben Bolt and his Esquimaux bride returned to live happily during
the remainder of their lives in England, or took up their permanent
abode with Blunderbore; but it is not our province to criticise--we
merely chronicle events as they occurred.
The entertainments were to conclude with a hornpipe from Mivins, but
just as that elastic individual had completed the first of a series of
complicated evolutions, and was about to commence the second, a
vociferous barking of the dogs was heard outside, accompanied by the
sound of human voices. The benches were deserted in a moment and the
men rushed upon deck, catching up muskets and cutlasses, which always
stood in readiness, as they went. The sounds proceeded from a party of
about twenty Esquimaux, who had been sent from the camp with the stolen
property, and with a humble request that the offence might be forgiven,
and their chief and his wife returned to them. They were all unarmed,
and the sincerity of their repentance was further attested by the fact
that they brought back, not only the hatchet and telescope, but a large
assortment of minor articles that had not been missed.
Of course the apology was accepted; and after speeches were delivered,
and protestations of undying friendship made on both sides, the party
were presented with a few trinkets and a plug of tobacco each, and sent
back in a state of supreme happiness to their village, where for a week
Awatok kept the men of his tribe, and Aninga the women, in a state of
intense amazement by their minute descriptions of the remarkable doings
of the white strangers.
The friendship thus begun between the Esquimaux and the _Dolphin's_ crew
was never once interrupted by any unpleasant collision during the months
that they afterwards travelled and hunted in company. Strength of
muscle and promptitude in action are qualities which all nations in a
savage state understand and respect; and the sailors proved that they
possessed these qualities in a higher degree than themselves during the
hardships and dangers incident to Arctic life, while at the same time
their seemingly endless resources and contrivances impressed the simple
natives with the belief that white men could accomplish anything they
chose to attempt.