Ice Whale (5 page)

Many days later‚ Toozak reached Tikigaq. The sun barely rose before it set‚ for it was the Moon of Sitting‚ the beginning of winter.

Toozak was wide-eyed. This was the biggest town he had ever seen‚ a famous whaling and market town. It had become a trading center‚ with the Americans‚ Irish‚ Cape Verdeans‚ Germans‚ Russians‚ Portuguese‚ and Japanese. They traded blue beads‚ tobacco‚ hardware‚ and liquor for the Eskimos' furs and ivory. But Toozak was not looking for trade. He drove to the edge of town‚ let Woof and Lik off their harnesses‚ and tied them to a stake he had hammered into the ground. After throwing each a fish in celebration of the journey's end‚ he walked up to an Inupiat man who was sitting nearby. He wore handsome Russian boots and a stunning polar-bear parka.

“Do you know where the Qingak family lives?” he asked.

“Suuurreeesh‚” the man answered‚ and Toozak saw why his speech was slurred. An empty liquor container lay at his side. The white men were trading liquor for furs. Drunken men cannot hunt and their families sometimes starve.

Toozak walked away slowly toward the village. Presently he came to a boy who was playing with an Eskimo yo-yo—that remarkable invention that allows two sealskin balls to swing in opposite directions at the same time.

“Where does the Qingak family live?” he asked. “Can you tell me?”

“Follow me‚” said the boy‚ spinning the yo-yo around his head. Toozak went back for his sled and dogs and walked with the yo-yo spinner to a large sod-covered home. There were piles of caribou and whale bones stacked in the yard.

“Siku‚” he whispered. “Perhaps I will find the ancient whale hunter in this town.”

“This is where the Qingak family lives‚” the boy said‚ and went on down the path not missing a spin of his yo-yo.

Toozak was looking at the whale bones and caribou antlers that had been placed in front of the home.

So many bones
‚ he thought.
That means that Qutuuq's father is an important man—a good hunter.

While he was thinking about how to introduce himself‚ Qutuuq's father‚ Kakinnaaq [KA-kin-ak]‚ pushed back the bearskin door and hailed him.

“Young man‚” he said‚ “my daughter says she met you at the trading market. That you are far from your home and a very good hunter.”

“Yes‚ I am far from home‚” said Toozak. “I seek a whale with the mark of a dancer on his chin. Do the ice whales come close to shore here?”

“They do—and I have seen that very one.” Kakinnaaq smiled. “He is special—a very beautiful whale. Will he give himself to you?”

“No‚ no. He is too young. He must grow. I seek him so I can protect him. Until he dies‚” he added under his breath. And he explained the shaman's curse.

“Until your whale returns in spring‚ come hunt with me‚” Kakinnaaq said. “The long night is near. I could use your help.”

Toozak took his bow and arrows from his sled. He covered his lance and gleaming sable fur with his bags and followed Kakinnaaq as he walked toward the tundra. After he had shot five ptarmigan cocks to Kakinnaaq's two‚ Kakinnaaq invited him to his home.

I
n the middle of Moon of Forming Frost under the
Roof—the middle of winter—it was night for twenty-four hours a day. This was when the North Star‚ called the “never move” star by the northern peoples‚ was visible while the sky was dark.

At “never move” time‚ Toozak laughing and teasing‚ chased Qutuuq across the floor of the large home. They ended up near her bed. Then Kakinnaaq jumped from his sleeping furs and chased Toozak away.

For many nights Toozak chased Qutuuq‚ laughing‚ to her bed only to be shouted away by Kakinnaaq. Then came the day‚ when the sun had arisen only briefly before it set‚ that Toozak thrust his lance into a lone musk oxen's heart. The Kakinnaaq family not only had delicious fresh meat but a musk-oxen hide‚ the warmest of all furs. On that night of darkness‚ Kakinnaaq let Toozak reach Qutuuq's bed and this time climb in. With that‚ Toozak and Qutuuq were married in the ancient tradition.

The next day Toozak sang to himself‚

“Oh‚ Siku‚ my ice whale‚

I am so happy.

So happy.

You have brought me good fortune.

Aye‚ aye‚ aye

I will protect you as long as I live.

I will live right here where you pass by.

Aye‚ aye‚ aye.”

Spring came and the whales began migrating north. Toozak every day climbed a big ice pressure ridge. He wanted to see Siku and noted all the whales that went by.

But Toozak did not see the whale and he was discouraged. Then he thought that maybe Siku was staying away from the whalers and protecting himself. He smiled.

One day‚ when the sun was shining longer‚ Toozak went walrus hunting. He killed and brought home a large one.

“They are scarce‚” he said to his father-in-law. “Only two walrus instead of two thousand were on that ice floe.”

Kakinnaaq frowned. “I have seen that too‚” he said. “Only a few walrus ride the ice floes past our village. Some evil has fallen upon us. I will ask our shaman what it might be.”

“Not the shaman.” Toozak clutched his sable in fear. “He is all-powerful and will know what I did—betrayed those whales in the sound.” He bent his head. Kakinnaaq walked out the door.

In a few minutes he was back from the shaman's home.

“The shaman is drunk‚” he said.

Toozak was shocked. Then he began to think‚ if the shaman had magic powers‚ why couldn't he use them to stop himself from drinking? He decided if a shaman could get drunk‚ then maybe shamans didn't have magic powers after all. But he was not sure. One way or the other‚ though‚ he knew that he would protect Siku. He was his beloved whale‚ bonded to him—his brother. He would wait for Siku. He would watch.

Kakinnaaq thought more about Siku. “I am old and cannot help you protect Siku. Just stay connected to his spirit and he will tell you when he faces danger. We need the animals that give us life—and they need us.”

Working nonstop for days‚ Toozak's new wife‚ Qutuuq‚ and the other village women cut‚ sewed‚ and stretched the sealskin over the
umiaq
frame. It was tedious‚ difficult work. The women were covered in seal oil‚ and the smell of the fermented skins was overpowering.

While the women worked‚ Toozak took one of the walrus skins a short distance from his in-laws' house and propped it up with driftwood poles. Then he gathered some caribou skins that he had dried and scraped. Together with the walrus skin‚ they were hung to form a big square. He tied them to the driftwood crossbeams with sinew. A home was taking shape. Finally he made a roof of canvas from the sail of a wrecked Yankee whaleboat and propped it up with baleen strips . . . and the newlyweds had their first home. A year passed and spring came again. The whales would return.

Into this home on a spring day‚ Toozak II was born. His father sang.

“Sleep‚ little Toozak.

Sleep‚ sleep‚ sleep.

Siku is coming

Through the blue waves.”

The next day‚ a neighbor showed Toozak his newfangled shoulder gun‚ aimed it toward the ocean‚ and pulled the trigger. The loud BOOM surprised them both. Toozak was alarmed. Eskimos now had Yankee whaling guns. At home he had seen that this explosive whale gun could do whales great harm. Siku would be coming north. He might even be near. But it was important for Tikigaq to harvest whales so Toozak understood that Siku might offer himself to a worthy hunter.

Toozak walked out onto the sea ice. Sitting down on an enormous block of pale blue ice‚ he watched the open lead‚ a black streak of open water in the white ice. Whales swam by. After a long wait‚ the water swirled and a whale breached. On his chin was a white spot in the shape of a dancing Eskimo. Siku was in the Tikigaq hunting area.

“Siku‚” Toozak shouted loud enough to warn him. “Go. Go.!” The whale seemed to understand‚ and dove. Large ripples marked Siku's hasty retreat.

Toozak knew that frightening whales away would draw the wrath of the whalers‚ but none were around to hear him. He prayed that another whale would give himself to the hunters of Tikigaq and Siku would be spared.

“
” came from the water like a wind song.

“Siku‚ what are you saying?” Toozak wondered aloud as he lightly touched his cheek.

He waited many hours . . . no more whales came by.

Siku was safe.

Toozak smiled. He did not want to leave this magnificent ice world. He had found Siku. And he had found a home.

The ocean was blinding white but for the blue-black ice leads. Puffy clouds ringed the horizon. Geese flew north. Ivory gulls darted over the ice floes and Arctic terns called their rasping
keeeyurr
. The Great Spirit was kissing the world.

“My home and yours‚ Siku.” Toozak whispered so as not to frighten other whales.

Days later‚ the whale hunters of Tikigaq caught two whales for the community. Siku was far to the north.

T
om Boyd‚ once a lowly cabin boy‚ had spent years
and years working his way up through the ranks and was now the captain of the whaling ship
Trident
. He ordered all her sails unfurled to the wind.

He lifted his head into the Arctic wind and breathed deeply. Tom had attended public school in New Bedford‚ Massachusetts‚ and at twenty-two married lovely Anne Dana. That year he signed on to a fishing vessel and worked his way up the ranks as he learned to sail in storm and calm—preparation for a trip to the Arctic.

Now at last his dream was fulfilled. He was a captain and in the Arctic.

By his side was the boy Tom II‚ his son‚ as wide-eyed and excited as the captain had once been.

With the winds behind her‚ the ship sped north through the Bering Strait on to the Arctic Ocean. White ice floes freckled the dark blue water. Gulls flew in arcs and seals slept on the land-fast ice that was frozen to the bottom near the shores.

Days later‚ they came upon a small group of bowhead whales in the open ocean. A crew went in pursuit‚ and harpooned and killed one. After muscle-straining work‚ the men hauled it to the
Trident
and began preparing it for butchering.

Big Henry‚ a harpooner‚ and seven other whalers cut off a thick sheet of blubber. Then‚ all together‚ they hoisted it to the deck.

“Small‚” grumbled Big Henry of the whale. “We've taken most of the big ones.” He leaned on his ten-foot-long pole with the whale-flensing knife on the end. “Wasn't like this in forty-eight when I first came to the Arctic Ocean.”

John‚ the first mate‚ joined the captain‚ Tom II‚ and Big Henry to watch the action.

“I fear‚” John said thoughtfully‚ “that the whalers have harvested too many bowheads.”

Tom II pushed back his parka hood and turned to John. “Have whalers taken that many?”

“Yes. Look at all the whaling ships out there.” He gestured seaward. “I've been here when whales were to the right‚ left‚ above‚ and underneath. Now it's hard to find even one—and this is only thirteen years after the first whale was taken.”

“This is the first time I've been in the Arctic Ocean‚” Tom II said. “Mother insisted she go along with Father when he said he would be gone three years.” Tom II smiled. “And I had to come along too. I'm glad we did. This ocean's really different.” He gestured to the blue-and-white world‚ to the birds flying overhead and seals sliding off ice floes and the pack ice that had formed a frozen quilt on top of the water.

Suddenly Tom II's eyes rested on the eye of the dead whale. It was open‚ and looking at him. He was gripped by a piercing sadness.

“Great whale‚” he murmured‚ but not loud enough for anyone to hear, “I am sorry.”

As the whalers started cutting the blubber‚ he averted his eyes. He did not want to see the butchering.

The ship suddenly rolled. Tom II lost his footing and stumbled close to the tryworks‚ those brick structures which held the huge iron pots that were kept ready for rendering the blubber to oil.

The ship straightened. Tom II recovered his balance.

“Big Henry‚” he said‚ pointing to the tryworks‚ “do we really need to boil down the blubber? It's hard dangerous work.”

“Aye‚” Big Henry answered‚ “we can carry far more whale oil when we render it here at sea. Makes more room for walrus tusks.” He glanced out at the pack ice. It was moving toward them. He frowned.

There was a crunching sound. The ship rolled sharply to starboard. Tom II lost his footing again‚ grabbed the brace on the mainmast‚ and hung on. The pack ice had ridden in and now was pressed against the ship‚ pushing it toward the land-fast ice. Again the
Trident
righted herself and Tom II scurried down the ladder to his father's quarters. His mother looked up.

“I hope we finish here soon and get clear of the ice‚” Tom II said. “There is ice all around us.” He sat down at his desk and picked up a book. He wanted to forget that steep roll.

His mother said‚ “When you're done with that‚ I'll hear your spelling.”

Tom II looked down at his book.

In moments‚ he lifted his head. He could tell his mother was nervous about the rolling ship too.

“We're drifting‚” he said.

The ship jolted to a stop.

“Now we're not.”

“Do your lessons‚” his mother said.

A screaming hiss sounded. Tom II jumped up‚ threw back the door‚ and ran up the steps to the deck. He met his father striding toward the helm.

“What's happening?” Tom II asked.

“We're having a little trouble‚” Captain Boyd explained when he saw his son's anxious face. “A storm is coming. The wind is pushing us against a big ice floe.” He hurried on. Tom II followed him to the bridge.

“This is the Arctic‚” Boyd said. “There are always dangers here.” He took the wheel.

The
Trident
's sails filled‚ and it changed course‚ then slowly gained speed. Captain Boyd steered around the ice floes and out into the open ocean. They could still see the shore. Outwardly he appeared confident‚ inwardly he shook. He knew the treachery of the pack ice.

Tom II sat down on a coil of rope. He had heard many stories of ships crushed by the ice.

“We need wood for the tryworks‚” Captain Boyd shouted when he saw his boy sitting. “Go help Big Henry get some.”

Tom II ran down to the deck. He could hear the sound of the pumps. That meant water was coming in somewhere. He climbed down into the hold where two men were still straining to operate the pumps‚ and found Big Henry stuffing oakum into the leaks. The flow stopped.

“Now I get wood‚” Big Henry said to Tom II. “The fires in the ovens are almost out.”

“Wood‚ here? But there's only ice!”

“Many logs are washed down the big rivers and drift around the Arctic Ocean. They eventually cast up on shore‚ where we get them. The Eskimos build boats and homes with them.” On the deck Henry lowered the dory and slid down a rope to it.

While Tom and John watched from the deck‚ he came ashore near a spruce log that John had spotted. It was silvery gray from years of battering against the ice. Big Henry chopped it in quarters and tossed it into the boat.

Tom II grabbed John's arm and pointed. An Eskimo was coming toward Henry. His polar-bear mukluks were crunching on the beach stones; his parka hood was pushed back from his angry face. He quickened his pace. Out of the low shrubs came four more Eskimos.

The Eskimos came on. Henry quickly threw a couple of heavy logs into the boat‚ pushed off‚ and began to row.

The five Eskimos raised their bows and arrows. Big Henry just rowed‚ putting distance between them‚ and returned to the
Trident
.

“Were you scared?” Tom II asked Big Henry.

“Yes‚ but you know what scares me more?” he replied. “This ocean. This weather. This ice.” He hoisted the wood to John on the deck.

Snow blew out of the sky. Ice pellets pummeled the ship. Gusty winds blew and
Trident
's sails were trimmed. A Bering Sea storm was upon them. Other than ice, Arctic storms were what the whalers dreaded most. The deck was awash in huge seas and whale oil from broken casks.

Through the storm the
Trident
limped its way out of the Bering Sea south toward Hawaii.