CHAPTER XV.
A SAIL.--THE SEALING GROUNDS.--THE ESQUIMAUX LAMP.--AN INDIAN LEGEND.
About a hundred pounds of blubber lay upon the ice, and Carlo wasluxuriating on a whole hind quarter, which was given up to his especialuse, to make up for the rather short commons he had of late been reducedto. About fifty birds lay behind the hummock, and Peter, who was anxiousto secure a bird-skin coverlet for his own use, set himself down to skinthe finest ones. Waring joined him in the task.
"There's the big berg where we killed ussuk yesterday. Less go and lookaround. Perhaps we see land," said Regnar.
"No, Regnie; we are fifty miles from any land now, and I think about onethird of the way across to the Magdalen Islands. Still, I should like totake an observation, and see where we are; and we may not have such acalm spell again for two or three days."
Pulling off to the berg, they found the shelf on which lay the deadseal, and climbing the ice-cliff, they saw spread out before them astrange and pleasing spectacle. The fog had lifted, for it was nownearly noon, and although some rain still fell, the eye could see thebroken ice-pack seamed with channels, and scarred with pools of varyingsize, for at least eight miles in any direction. Regnar started, turnedto his companion, and seizing his shoulder with convulsive energy,pointed to the east. A long ribbon of black vapor hung over the ice, lowdown on the horizon, and beneath it towered the topsail of a brigantine,going free before the wind.
"It is a sealing steamer, boring out of the pack," said Regnar.
La Salle's first impulse was to rush to the boat, and rejoin hiscomrades, to set signals, burn bonfires--anything which might possiblycall the attention of those on board. Then he considered the futility ofsuch endeavors, and he turned to his comrade,--
"We can't signal her now, Regnar, and we won't excite in our friendshopes which cannot fail to be disappointed. We shall see her againsoon."
Regnar looked around them, cast glances of admiration on the abundanceof animal life presented to their view, gave a look of approval to hisfriend, and answered in his Esquimaux-English,--
"It is good. I fear not. That steamer sail away to-day, for wind fair.If wind east to-morrow, she sail this way. If wind north, she go south;but she no leave this place till she beats the pack, like a hound. Lookthere--see that floe. Plenty seal there to load one vessel."
The view was indeed charming, for ice and water were alive with birds,and among them moved in every direction the bullet heads of many seals.
About three miles to the eastward lay a large pan, and around it thewater was dark with the older amphibia, while from it came, in theoccasional calm intervals, the unceasing whine, which the baby sealnever foregos for a moment, except when asleep or feeding.
"We want more skins, master," said the boy. "We could soon fill ourboat--we two."
A cold puff came from the westward, and a slight break showed itself inthe north-west.
"We shall have clear weather and a westerly breeze after sunset," saidLa Salle. "We will get ready to-night, and to-morrow we will have abattle among the seals."
Retracing their steps, they entered their boats, and returned to theirfriends, to whom they imparted the news of the proximity of thesealing-grounds.
"We need about ten large skins, and some smaller ones. So let us getready to-night, and if the weather is favorable, visit the 'nursery'to-morrow."
So saying, La Salle took one of the large floating decoys made of corkand canvas, and painted black, and drawing a nail from the broken boat,fastened it to the end of a strip from the bottom--in fact, one of therunners. This was planted beside the strip, sustaining the recordcontained in the copper case, and formed a beacon, easily distinguishedagainst the lighter ice.
Guns were cleaned, knives and axes sharpened, for the soapstone boulderhad been brought from the berg, and afforded quite a good whetstone, topatient labor; and Peter, with his knife, finished, in the course of theevening, a number of wooden bolts for himself, La Salle, and Regnar; andeven Waring fitted a couple into two of the brass shells of hisbreech-loader.
Regnar took the remains of the steel boat-hook, and succeeded instraightening the hook, which he drew down into the shape of a rudechisel. Peter tempered it for him, and then, with this rude tool and anaxe, he split the boulder of soapstone into halves, making twobowl-shaped pieces, about fifteen inches across, in the line ofcleavage. One of these he proceeded to hollow out into an Esquimauxlamp, for the stock of wood had been largely drawn upon during the coldspell just over, and only about twenty decoys remained unburnt. Waringsat next him, unraveling one of the old cotton-flannel over-shirts, andtwisting the fibres into large wicks; while La Salle made a cover of thelast remaining sheet-iron decoy, with holes for six wicks. As they sataround the fire, Waring suddenly broke the silence.
"Charley," said he, "you have never told your story, although all therest of the club took their turn. We are not making much noise with ourwork. Can't you give us your story now, to while away the evening?"
La Salle was at first disposed to comply, but his eye fell on the darkfeatures of Peter, opposite him.
"Peter," said he, "tell us one of the tales your old people tell aroundthe winter fire in the long, cold evenings. Tell us of Teahm orKit-pus-e-ag-a-now."
"How you know them?" asked the Indian, surprised out of his usualself-possession. "You speak Micmac too?"
"O, no, Peter; but I have heard many of these old tales, and I know thelads would like to hear them too."
"Yes, yes, Peter," added Waring, "let us have one, by all means."
Peter laid aside his pipe, for he still retained a little of histreasured tobacco, and in a slow, sententious tone repeated one of thosetribal legends which are all that keep alive the fire of patriotism andnational pride, in the breasts of a people who find themselvesstrangers, outcasts, and without a country in the land of their birth,once theirs alone.
PETER'S STORY.
"The old people were camped long, long ago, near the Oolastook, wherenow stands St. John. All this lan' Indian then. No 'hite man live herethat time, and the hunter always find game plenty--plenty moose, plentybear, plenty fish, plenty everyting.
"Then Indians not so wicked as now, and God had not sent 'hite men topunish them for their sins. But even then they fought each other; andbetween my people and the Quedetchque--that my name; you call 'emMohawk, I b'lieve--there was war, all time war.
"The Quedetchque come down every fall, follow down banks of river, waitalound village until all my people asleep; make warwhoop, fire arrows,set fire to _womegun_, lun off with prisoner, and plenty scalp. One timeall my people away, only squaw and children in town; Quedetchquewar-party come, burn an' kill; get plenty scalp of women and boy, andchief take away Coquan, what you call 'Lainbow,' wife of great chief'Tamegun,' the tomahawk.
"They hurry home fas', but the snow fall thick, an' soon Tamegun an' oneother man come home, fin' wigwam burnt, an' dead people all alound. Theytighten belts, take bow, knife, an' axe, and follow on track.
"One night they find tracks in snow, and soon come up to the camp. Manywarriors in that camp--make long camp, and door at each end, and fire atdoor. All Quedetchque inside take off moccason and bathe sore feet inbig birch-bark tub near door; then wait until Coquan mend moccasons. Allthis Tamegun see, and he find out where his squaw sit in lodge.
"Then he creep up like wildcat, and peep through bark so close he couldalmos' touch her; but he only lift edge of bark, and slide in wampumbelt. Coquan work war-belt for him, and know who it is at once. Then shego out, an' they talk together, far from the camp.
"Then Coquan go back into camp, and take all the moccasons outside, andset the tubs of dirty water outside each door. Then she see Tamegun an'his friend tie rope across door, jus' above ground, and the Lainbow slipout again. Then Micmacs catch up tubs and throw water on the fires; allout in a minute.
"Both cly the warwhoop many times at the door, an' the woman shootarrows through the bark. All the Quedetchque jump up, take knife an'axe
, think Micmacs got into the tent. All is dark; see nothing; thinkeverybody enemy. They stab with knife, cly war-cly, strike with axe,kill each other. Some lun out doors, tumble over cord. Micmacs killevery one. At last all dead but two boys, and Tamegun tie these totrees.
"Then Tamegun get scalp, skin, beads, knife, spear, everyting he want.Make three taboggin; load all they can carry; then set fire to camp andburn all up. Then, when all ready, Tamegun draw his knife, an' cutprisoners loose.
"'Go back to Quedetchque,' he say. 'They are squaws an' cowards. Tellthem come no more into Meegum-Ahgee,--in Micmac land,--for two Micmacmen an' a squaw have kill all your people. Go! You are too young to die.Your flesh is soft. Come back when your scalps are fit for a Micmac'sbelt.'
"So Tamegun got home all light, an' Quedetchque come no more for manyyears. But my people no more fight. Many die in battle long ago. Manydie of small-pox an' fever, and now we are few. So it will be until Hecomes for whom all Indians wait. The story is ended."
* * * * *
Thus in rude English, Peter related one of the many tales, which stillserve to keep alive a people's pride in the glories of bygone days, sounlike their present degradation, that to the general observer thecivilized Indian _seems_ to know nothing of the past, to be scarcelyconscious of his ignoble surroundings and circumstances, and to have nocare or hope for a brighter future. La Salle knew well the wild legendof the Deliverer, in whom, in spite of his Catholic faith, the Indianeverywhere has an inherent trust, as the slowly but surely-comingprotector and restorer, of his ancient happiness.
"Thank you, Peter," said he, kindly. "Your people were a brave race, andtrue as steel to your _Wenooch_ (i.e., French). They fought as long astheir allies dared to strive; and it was long after the last Frenchfortress surrendered that the warriors met at Bay Verte, to become truesubjects to the king they had fought against for years."
"Yes," said Peter, sadly. "My people once strong and brave; now theywaste away like the snow. I know many families almost gone, an' but fewpure Indian live this end of island. We see it, if 'hite people thinknot, but we do not care to let them see our tears."
There was a simple pathos in the broken words of this unlearned man--forhe was no savage--which went to the hearts of his hearers; and La Sallefelt more strongly than ever, the cruel cowardice of that popularoutcry, which denies a whole people all share of innate nobility andvirtue, and visits on a deceived and wronged race, both their own sinsand the short-comings of those who should be their natural protectors.
The party finished their various undertakings, carefully removing theirlitter. La Salle and Regnar went outside to take a last look at the seaand sky. The stars were visible here and there, through the dispersingclouds, and the drip of melting ice was no longer heard, for thetemperature had again fallen below the freezing point.
"We are drifting south of east," said Regnar, quietly, "and unlesspicked up will probably clear the south point of the Magdalen Islands."
"How can you tell that?" asked La Salle.
"Easily enough," said the lad, talking still in French. "The wind iswesterly, and the current runs from north to south."
"But how can you decide on the points of the compass?" persisted LaSalle.
For the first time the boy seemed to wonder at the question, and todoubt the wisdom of his friend.
"Who can fail to know?" said he, quietly, "when he can see in theheavens above him, the steady light of the Polar Star?"