Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Walrus Hunters: A Romance of the Realms of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (best classic books to read txt) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Walrus Hunters: A Romance of the Realms of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (best classic books to read txt) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
At last, when almost exhausted, he made preparations for passing the night where he was. Before lying down he ate a hearty meal and fed the dog, who indicated his satisfaction by an occasional whine and the usual wag of the tail, which could be faintly heard though not seen.
A pipe of course followed, and during the process of lighting it he and Attim obtained a fleeting glimpse of their abode. As his materials could not produce a flame—only a dull red glow—the glimpse was not cheering, or of much value.
Then Nazinred spread a deerskin on the ice, rolled himself in his blanket, pillowed his head on the dog, who seemed to be perfectly satisfied with the arrangement, and went to sleep till—we cannot say morning, for pitch darkness still prevailed, but till that point of time when the stomachic chronometer awoke them.
After another feed the chief again set to work with indomitable perseverance, and extended the tunnel during many hours; yet when he had accomplished what appeared to him a long and severe day’s work, it seemed as if he were as far off as ever from deliverance. Just as he was giving way to weary disappointment, however, a rush of cold air came against his face, and with an irrepressible exclamation of satisfaction he found that his last blow with the axe had opened a way to the outer world. A few more strokes, delivered with unwonted vigour, set him free, to find that the gale was over, that a profound calm prevailed, and that the faint grey light of the Arctic noon was illuminating the ghostly scene.
He also discovered that during his imprisonment a heavy fall of snow had taken place, so that he sank a full foot into it—if not more—at every step. Congratulating himself on having brought his snow-shoes with him, he at once put on those useful implements, and, having secured the pack on his back, he once more set forth on his journey, beating a track as he went on which the dog followed him with ease, though without such a track the poor thing could not have travelled at all until the surface of the snow had hardened.
But although our Indian’s heart was lighter after his deliverance, the toil which he had undergone, and the cold which he had experienced in the berg, had told somewhat severely even on his hardy frame, and when he built his hut that night it was with a feeling of despondency, for he became aware of a considerable diminution of strength. An unusually keen frost on the following day increased this feeling, and when he was about to encamp at night, Nazinred said to himself, as well as to his dog, that he feared they would never complete their journey.
But “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” On looking round for a sheltered spot on which to build the snow-hut he observed three objects in the distance which bore a strong resemblance to Eskimo dwellings. Pushing forward eagerly, he soon reached them, and found that they were indeed huts of these children of the ice, but that they were deserted. The disappointment was very great, yet our chief bore up against it manfully. He made use of one of the huts as a resting-place for the night. Next morning he found that the prolonged strain had rendered him much weaker than he had believed to be possible. Diminishing provisions, also, had increased the evil, and a still further fall in the temperature induced a feeling of feebleness which the hitherto vigorous man had never before experienced.
The idea of giving in, however, had never once entered his mind. To persevere in the search until success or death should arrest him had been his fixed resolve from the beginning.
“Come on, pup,” he said, patting the head of his faithful friend, as he fastened on his snow-shoes and set forth.
To his surprise he found that he staggered a little at first, but as he warmed to the work his vigour increased and his powers of endurance seemed almost as strong as ever.
While Nazinred, under the influence of strong affection, was thus fighting with the unfamiliar difficulties and dangers of the polar sea, Cheenbuk and his Eskimo friends were enjoying life in what may be called their native element.
“Will Adolay come for a drive?” said our gallant Eskimo one day when the sun had risen near enough to the eastern horizon to almost, but not quite, extinguish the stars. “We go to seek for walruses.”
The Indian maiden was sitting at the time in the snow residence which belonged to Mangivik. Mrs Mangivik was sitting opposite to her mending a seal-skin boot, and Cowlik the easy-going was seated beside her, engaged with some other portion of native attire. Nootka was busy over the cooking-lamp, and old Mangivik himself was twirling his thumbs, awaiting the result of her labours. Oolalik was there too—he was frequently there—courting Nootka in the usual way, by prolonged silent staring. The process might have been trying to some women, but Nootka did not mind. Like many young damsels, she was fond of admiration, and could stand a good deal of it, no matter how peculiar the mode in which it was expressed.
“I don’t care to go,” said Adolay, with a sigh.
Cheenbuk did not repeat the invitation or press for a reason. He was a considerate as well as a gallant youth. He knew that the poor girl was pining for her parents, and that she regretted having left them—even although remaining in her native village might have involved her being wed against her will to the hated Magadar, or subjected to his persecutions during her father’s absence. Cheenbuk did his best to comfort her with the assurance that he would take her back to her home with the very first of the open water. But when Adolay began to realise what a very long time must elapse before the ice would reopen its portals and set the waters free, her heart sank and she began to mope.
“We may as well have some women with us,” remarked Oolalik, with a pointed glance at Nootka, but Nootka took no notice of either the observation or the glance. Even Eskimo girls understand how to tease!
“Will Cowlik go?” asked Cheenbuk.
“Yes.” Cowlik smiled, and was quite ready to go.
“No, she won’t,” said Mrs Mangivik, with a positiveness almost European in its tone.
“Very well.” Cowlik smiled, and was equally ready to remain.
Mangivik himself expressed no opinion on the subject, but twirled his thumbs faster as he expressed a hope that the cooking would be soon completed.
It was finally arranged that only young men should go, with sledges and teams of dogs to fetch the meat home.
The little town in which this scene was being enacted was composed of between twenty and thirty whitey-brown bee-hives of snow, of the usual shape, ranged on the ice near the shore of a large island. The scene presented was a lively one, for while some of the inhabitants were creeping into the small tunnels which formed as it were porches before the doors, others were creeping out. Men and dogs were moving about—the former harnessing the latter to sledges in preparation for the approaching hunt, while hairy little balls of children were scampering about in play, or sitting on the tops of the snow bee-hives, watching the proceedings with interest.
The Eskimo sledge is a contrivance of wood capable of accommodating five or six men, and usually drawn by a team of from six to ten dogs, each dog being fastened to it by means of a separate line of tough walrus-hide. In a short time the long-lashed, short-handled, powerful whips cracked, the teams yelped, the men shouted, and away they all went with much noise over the frozen sea.
After a short run the parties separated and went in different directions. Cheenbuk and his men drove in a southerly direction. Soon they came to a place which had been kept open by walruses as a breathing-hole. Here they got out, hid the sledge and dogs behind a hummock, and, getting ready their spears and harpoons, prepared for an encounter. After waiting some time a walrus thrust its ungainly head up through the young ice that covered the hole, and began to disport itself in elephantine, or rather walrusian, gambols.
Tiring of this in a few minutes, it dived, and the natives ran to the edge of the hole to be ready when it should come up again. The animal was a female, and a small one. When it re-appeared harpoons and lances were at once driven into it, and it was killed almost immediately. This is not always the result of such an encounter, for this elephant of the polar seas is naturally a ferocious brute, and when bulls are attacked they are prone to show fight rather than take fright.
Leaving the young men to skin and cut up the meat, Cheenbuk went on, with only Anteek to keep him company, in search of another breathing-hole.
“You must harpoon the next one all alone, and kill him without help,” said Cheenbuk to his companion soon after they had started.
“I’ll try,” returned the boy, with the air of confidence befitting a knight who had already won his spurs, yet with the modesty of a youth who was aware of his fallibility.
But Anteek was not destined to distinguish himself that day, for, about three miles beyond the place where the walrus had been slain, they came across a track so singular that, on beholding it, they were stricken dumb with surprise.
Stopping the dogs, they gazed at it for a few moments in speechless wonder.
“I am not an old man,” said Cheenbuk at length in a solemn tone, “but I have seen most of the wonderful things in this world, yet have I never seen a track like that!”
He pointed to the track in question, and turned a look of blazing inquiry on Anteek.
“And I am not an old boy,” returned the other, “but I too have seen a good many of the wonderful things of this world, yet have I never even dreamed of the like of that!”
It will doubtless strike the reader here, as an evidence that Eskimos are under similar delusions to the rest of the human family, that these two referred to that world of theirs as equivalent to the world at large!
“What can it be?” murmured Cheenbuk.
“The very biggest bear that ever was, come to frighten the wisest people that ever lived, out of their wits,” suggested Anteek.
The face of the elder Eskimo underwent a sudden change, and an intelligent expression flitted over it as he said—
“I know now—I remember—I guess. You have often heard me talk of the Fire-spouters, Anteek? Well, the snow where they live is very deep and soft—not at all like the snow here, except when our snow is new-fallen—so that they cannot travel in the cold time without great things on their feet. That,”—pointing downward—“must be the track of those great things, and there must be a Fire-spouter not far off.”
“Perhaps a number of Fire-spouters—a war-party,” suggested Anteek, becoming excited.
“I think not, for there is only one track.”
“But they may have walked in a row—behind each other.”
“That is true. You notice well, Anteek. You will be a good hunter soon.”
He stooped as he spoke, to examine more carefully the track, which was indeed none other than that made by the snow-shoes of Nazinred on his weary and well-nigh hopeless journey over the frozen sea.
“Look here, Cheenbuk,” cried the boy, whose excitement was increasing. “Is there not here also the track of a dog, with a strange mark on each side of it, as if it were drawing two lines as it went along?”
“You are right again, boy. There is here the track of
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