Ice Whale

by Jean Craighead George

  Now and then Toozak came ashore to eat and sleep. Late one afternoon‚ around dusk‚ he noticed a flock of auklets flying toward the deep water of the ocean where they spend the winter. This was a good sign. The freeze was coming, which would make traveling easier.

  Three sleeps later he pulled ashore on the southern cape of Kotzebue Sound. The dogs leaped out of the kayak‚ nearly upsetting it. Steadying himself‚ Toozak stepped out onto a stony shore. He looked north over the gleaming water of the sound.

  “Look‚ Woof‚” he said‚ stroking the dog’s head. “Kotzebue Sound is still open. We will stay here till it freezes.”

  He looked around‚ knowing he had lots of time before him. The landscape was different from that of his home. The shrubs were smaller and twisted by the wind and snow. In the distance‚ snow-tipped mountains shone white and turquoise. Clouds of birds flew south.

  What was best‚ he saw‚ was that he was not far from the shore-hugging currents heading toward the Kotzebue Sound. Siku would travel north on them in the spring. He‚ Toozak‚ would scare off Siku’s enemies‚ the Yankees and the orcas. The thought gave him great hope.

  “Siku‚” he called out. “I will protect you.”

  He threw out his chest and looked seaward. Then‚ putting down his sleeping furs and using his beloved sable as a pillow‚ he took out some raw fish for his supper.

  An Eskimo man in fur garments approached him. Toozak was nervous. Had he crossed a clan territory line? In some areas‚ it was the custom to kill unknown travelers. Was the man coming to kill him?

  “What are you doing here‚ young man?” The Eskimo asked him this question in four different languages before Toozak responded.

  Using his hands and the few Inupiat words he had learned from the traders‚ he said‚ “I am waiting for the sound to freeze so that I can cross.”

  “It will be weeks till that occurs‚” the man said clearly in Yup’ik when he realized Toozak was from that nation. He had a kind face and he smiled when he said‚ “Come stay with me and my family. Can you hunt? The hunting time is here and I could use some help.”

  Toozak nodded and accepted the offer. He carried his kayak out of the wind‚ then called Woof and Lik to his side and joined the man.

  The man’s home was a large sealskin abode whose walls were decorated with tools and a grizzly bear skin. Toozak immediately felt at home.

  Within a week’s time‚ he had shot a caribou with his bow and arrow and caught many fish for the man. The man’s wife was so grateful she not only gave him a portion of the caribou but helped him build a sled from willow limbs and driftwood. The sled was big enough to hold all of Toozak’s possessions‚ including his kayak. He was pleased.

  “My husband is getting old and is not as good a hunter as you‚” she said when they had finished making the sled. “I am glad for your skill.”

  “And I am glad for yours‚” Toozak said‚ looking at the graceful sled she had helped to create.

  Two weeks later‚ the sound waters began forming pancake ice‚ the round disks that precede the freeze-up. Cold winds blew down from the North Pole. The ice thickened. One day during the Moon of Freezing‚ October‚ when summer was over‚ Toozak chopped a hole in the sound ice with the stone ax the wife had given him. The ice was one foot thick—plenty thick to travel on. That day he told the family it was time for him to leave.

  Early the next morning‚ despite stinging winds‚ Toozak lashed his possessions on the new sled‚ put his kayak on top of it‚ and hitched up the dogs. The sable he put under his parka‚ where he could hug it to ease his aching muscles. There were good spirits in it he was sure‚ just as his sister had said.

  “Kiita‚ Kiita‚” he called to Woof and Lik. “Ah—eeee‚” he called to his friends‚ and waved.

  By late evening on the second day‚ he had mushed across the sound and arrived at the village of Sisualiq. The villagers came out of their homes‚ and Toozak was relieved to see that they greeted him joyously. Women in caribou parkas fed him‚ the men asked him for news‚ and finally all wished to know where he was going. When he said to Tikigaq‚ one elder was delighted. A well-traveled man‚ he began telling Toozak the best way to go.

  “Take the old trade route‚” he said. “It goes over land. When you get to the Igichuk Hills‚ leave that route and take to the sea ice. It will be thick enough to travel on by then—and a lot smoother.

  “It’s a beautiful run to Tikigaq from the Hills at this time of year‚” he went on. “Little shrubs peeking through the snow. Caribou are scattered through the hills‚ they make the dogs happy. Very glorious.

  “But stay tonight‚” added the elder. “Sleep this darkness in my home.”

  The wind was now blowing snow and ice crystals. Toozak accepted the elder’s hospitality. He followed his new friend to a large underground winter home. It was dug into the earth and domed with sod. One entered it by taking a tunnel down‚ then climbing up into the home. After tying Woof and Lik to a gnarled bush and feeding them frozen fish‚ Toozak followed his host through the qanitchat [KA-nit-chuk]‚ an airlock tunnel that captured the cold air to keep it from penetrating into the home.

  As he came out of the tunnel into the house‚ he was welcomed by three young children and their mother. They greeted him warmly and showed him where to put his sleeping fur on the floor. Quietly he placed his sable on top of it. The sable had become his “good spirit.” He felt it would help him protect Siku‚ since the sable was an intelligent animal with a noble spirit.

  When Toozak was settled‚ the mother‚ smiling broadly‚ handed him an iron frying pan that was filled with bubbling walrus soup. The soup was thick with fat and the meat was as tender as young caribou. While he ate‚ the husband asked him many questions—questions about fishing‚ questions about winterberries and whether he had seen any caribou. Had the snowy owls left?

  Just before dark some important-looking men entered the home to talk to Toozak. They were dressed in elaborately decorated parkas of various furs. Around their necks hung bear claws and weasel tails‚ symbols of their importance.

  “Have you seen the American sailing ships?” they asked.

  Toozak nodded.

  “Do they harbor evil spirits?” an elder asked.

  Toozak said he didn’t know. Talking about evil spirits made him uneasy.

  “Do they come to trade?” asked one man. “Will they trade our furs for liquor and tobacco?” He smiled.

  “They do have goods to trade‚” Toozak said‚ “like beads and tobacco. But‚ be careful‚ they come mostly to kill our whales. They also take the ivory tusks from our walrus. They kill many—many more than they need‚ I think. I have seen the ocean red with blood.”

  “That’s why there are fewer whales and walrus‚” observed an elder‚ shaking his head. “Our people will starve because of these men.”

  The men departed at midnight‚ and at the following sunrise Toozak was ready to leave. The mother gave him a cooked snowshoe hare and the children gave him fish for the dogs. He rode away waving.

  “Kiita‚ Woof. Kiita‚ Lik‚” he shouted. The snow made the runners of the sled squeal as they slid across it. Icy gusts buffeted Toozak and sent snow spiraling over the willows and land. It was thirty below zero, and rime ice crusted his eyebrows and ruff. But he was warm in his parka and had a full belly. Smiling‚ he rode into the snow clouds.

  The Yankees have gone south for the winter. Siku is in the Bering Sea‚ far away from the greedy whalers‚ Toozak said to himself. I feel him. He is swimming leisurely. He is rolling gently. He is in his winter home.

  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.

  In 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.

  Tom 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.