The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole Part 24

But no sound issued from these huts or from the neighbouring islands.

It was the period of rest for man and bird. Air, earth, and water were locked in profound silence and repose.

"We've got to Paradise at last, father," was the first sound that broke the silence, if we except the gentle dip of the oars and the rippling water on the bow.

"Looks like it, Benjy," replied the Captain.

A wakeful dog on sh.o.r.e was the first to scent the coming strangers. He gave vent to a low growl. It was the keynote to the canine choir, which immediately sent up a howl of discord. Forthwith from every hut there leaped armed men, anxious women, and terrified children, which latter rushed towards the cliffs or took refuge among the rocks.

"Hallo! Chingatok, your relations are not to be taken by surprise,"

said the Captain--or something to that effect--in Eskimo.

The giant shook his head somewhat gravely.

"They must be at war," he said.

"At war! whom with?"

"With the Neerdoowulls," replied Chingatok with a frown. "They are always giving us trouble."

"Not badly named, father," said Benjy; "one would almost think they must be of Scotch extraction."

At that moment the natives--who had been gesticulating wildly and brandis.h.i.+ng spears and bone knives with expressions of fury that denoted a strong desire on their part to carve out the hearts and transfix the livers of the newcomers--suddenly gave vent to a shout of surprise, which was succeeded by a scream of joy. Chingatok had stood up in the boat and been recognised. The giant's dog--an appropriately large one-- had been the first to observe him, and expressed its feelings by wagging its tail to such an extent that its hind legs had difficulty in keeping the ground.

Immediately on landing, the party was surrounded by a clamorous crew, who, to do them justice, took very little notice of the strangers, so overjoyed were they at the return of their big countryman.

Soon a little pleasant though flattish-faced woman pushed through the crowd and seized the giant. This was his wife Pingasuk, or Pretty One.

She was _pet.i.te_--not much larger than Oblooria the timid. The better to get at her, Chingatok went down on his knees, seized her by the shoulders, and rubbed her nose against his so vigorously that the smaller nose bid fair to come off altogether. He had to stoop still lower when a stout urchin of about five years of age came up behind him and tried to reach his face.

"Meltik!" exclaimed the giant, rubbing noses gently for fear of damaging him, "you are stout and fat, my son, you have been eating much blubber-- good."

At that moment Chingatok's eyes fell on an object which had hitherto escaped his observation. It was a little round yellow head in his wife's hood, with a pair of small black eyes which stared at him in blank surprise. He made a s.n.a.t.c.h at it and drew forth--a naked baby!

"Our girlie," said the wife, with a pleased but anxious look; "don't squeeze. She is very young and tender--like a baby seal."

The glad father tried to fold the creature to his bosom; nearly dropped it in his excess of tender caution; thrust it hastily back into his wife's hood, and rose to give a respectful greeting to an aged man with a scrubby white beard, who came forward at the moment.

"Who are these, my son?" asked the old man, pointing to the Englishmen, who, standing in a group with amused expressions, watched the meeting above described.

"These are the Kablunets, father. I met them, as I expected, in the far-off land. The poor creatures were wandering about in a great kayak, which they have lost, searching for _nothing_!"

"Searching for nothing! my son, that cannot be. It is not possible to search for nothing--at least it is not possible to find it."

"But that is what they come here for," persisted Chingatok; "they call it the Nort Pole."

"And what is the Nort Pole, my son?"

"It is nothing, father."

The old man looked at his stately son with something of anxiety mingled with his surprise.

"Has Chingatok become a fool, like the Kablunets, since he left home?"

he asked in a low voice.

"Chingatok is not sure," replied the giant, gravely. "He has seen so much to puzzle him since he went away, that he sometimes feels foolish."

The old Eskimo looked steadily at his son for a few moments, and shook his head.

"I will speak to these men--these foolish men," he said. "Do they understand our language?"

"Some of them understand and speak a little, father, but they have with them one named Unders, who interprets. Come here, Unders."

Anders promptly stepped to the front and interpreted, while the old Eskimo put Captain Vane through an examination of uncommon length and severity. At the close of it he shook his head with profound gravity, and turned again to his son.

"You have indeed brought to us a set of fools, Chingatok. Your voyage to the far-off lands has not been very successful. These men want something that they do not understand; that they could not see if it was before them; that they cannot describe when they talk about it, and that they could not lay hold of if they had it."

"Yes, father," sighed Chingatok, "it is as I told you--nothing; only the Nort Pole--a mere name."

A new light seemed to break in on Chingatok as he said this, for he added quickly, "But, father, a name is _something_--my name, Chingatok, is something, yet it is nothing. You cannot see it, you do not lay hold of it, yet it is there."

"Toohoo! my son, that is so, no doubt, but your name describes _you_, and you are something. No one ever goes to a far-off land to search for a _name_. If this Nort Pole is only a name and not a _thing_, how can it _be_?" exclaimed the old man, turning on his heel and marching off in a paroxysm of metaphysical disgust.

He appeared to change his mind, however, for, turning abruptly back, he said to Anders, "Tell these strangers that I am glad to see them; that a house and food shall be given to them, and that they are welcome to Poloe. Perhaps their land--the far-off land--is a poor one; they may not have enough to eat. If so, they may stay in this rich land of mine to hunt and fish as long as they please. But tell them that the Eskimos love wise men, and do not care for foolishness. They must not talk any more about this search after nothing--this Nort Pole--this nonsense-- huk!"

Having delivered himself of these sentiments with much dignity, the old man again turned on his heel with a regal wave of the hand, and marched up to his hut.

"That must be the King of Poloe," whispered Captain Vane to Leo, endeavouring to suppress a smile at the concluding caution, as they followed Anders and one of the natives to the hut set apart for them.

The Captain was only half right. Amalatok was indeed the chief of the island, but the respect and deference shown to him by the tribe were owing more to the man's age and personal worth, than to his rank. He had succeeded his father as chief of the tribe, and, during a long life, had led his people in council, at the hunt, and in war, with consummate ability and success. Although old, he still held the reins of power, chiefly because his eldest son and rightful successor--Chingatok's elder brother--was a weak-minded man of little capacity and somewhat malignant disposition. If our giant had been his eldest, he would have resigned cheerfully long ago. As it was, he did not see his way to change the customs of the land, though he could not tell when, or by whom, or under what circ.u.mstances, the order of succession had been established.

Probably, like many other antiquated customs, it had been originally the result of despotism on the part of men in power, and of stupid acquiescence on the part of an unthinking people.

On reaching his hut the old chief sat down, and, leaning carelessly against the wall, he toyed with a bit of walrus rib, as an Englishman might with a pair of nut-crackers at dessert.

"Why did you bring these barbarians here?"

"I did not bring them, father, they brought me," said the son with a deprecating glance.

"Huk!" exclaimed the chief, after which he added, "hum!"

It was evident that he had received new light, and was meditating thereon.

"My son," continued Amalatok, "these Kablunets seem to be stout-bodied fellows; can they fight--are they brave?"

"They are brave, father, very brave. Even the little one, whom they call Bunjay, is brave--also, he is funny. I have never seen the Kablunets fight with men, but they fight well with the bear and the walrus and the ice. They are not such fools as you seem to think.

True, about this nothing--this Nort Pole--they are quite mad, but in other matters they are very wise and knowing, as you shall see before long."

"Good, good," remarked the old chief, flinging the walrus rib at an intrusive dog with signal success, "I am glad to hear you say that, because I may want their help."

Amalatok showed one symptom of true greatness--a readiness to divest himself of prejudice.