Ice Whale

by Jean Craighead George

  “Water sky‚” he said as Toozak IV came up beside him.

  “Water throws dark shadows on the bottom of clouds. Snow and ice throw white ones. So the dark bottom of clouds say ‘open water.’ It’s called uiñiq [UN-yik] a ‘lead.’ We go whaling when we see the water sky. It means the whales are migrating past‚ even though we don’t see many whales anymore. Yankee whaling nearly wiped them out.”

  “I know of one whale‚” Toozak IV said. “I call him Siku. He is still out there. I saw him in a place far away from here. Teach me where the whales swim on their migration so that I may find him again.”

  Ernest turned and looked silently at Toozak IV before he spoke.

  “Why must you find him?”

  “My ancestors said a Toozak must protect him . . . I am a Toozak. I must honor this.”

  “And why is that?”

  “The first Toozak showed some Yankee whalers where a group of ice whales lay. He didn’t think about the harm that would come to them.”

  “That was very wrong‚” Ernest said in a quiet voice.

  “They slaughtered them all. A great darkness was upon us‚” Toozak IV said‚ his head down. “My family’s stories of this tragedy have been passed down for generations by word of mouth. My father told me.”

  Ernest glanced at the miles of white sea ice before them.

  “But Siku lives. That sounds like a good omen. Maybe his spirit will end some of the Yankee evils.” He squinted toward the north. “The Yankees’ Bureau of Indian Affairs makes our schoolchildren speak only English‚ not our own language. They must speak English from the moment they enter the school building until the time they leave at the end of the day. They are hit with a ruler if they speak Inupiat. That’s not right.”

  “No‚ it’s not‚” said Toozak IV. “I fear that will happen to my own son. I don’t want to lose him.”

  Ernest nodded.

  “He will be sent out of Barrow to some faraway place for high school. We have none here. Know this so that when the time comes‚ you can decide what you want to do. But this news of Siku is good news. This Siku must be a good spirit. I will show you where the whales swim on their way to the Beaufort Sea.”

  The next day Ernest and Toozak IV pulled Ernest’s umiaq on a sled across the land-fast ice to the watery lead and set the umiaq afloat. Beautifully crafted‚ the boat with its wooden frame was covered with sealskins. The skins had been sewn together in the traditional way by Ernest’s wife and her women friends‚ and would not leak. Their work sat like a piece of art on the water.

  The two stepped into the umiaq.

  Quietly they paddled on the glittering water. Diamond snow sparkled in the air.

  When they were almost a mile out‚ Ernest tapped Toozak IV on the shoulder and pointed to swirling eddies on the surface of the ocean.

  “Kala—whale footprints‚” he said happily. “One has passed here.”

  Toozak IV looked at them.

  They paddled farther on the calm ocean. They could not find the whale.

  “You are a Christian‚” the minister said to Charlie Toozak V‚ now a young man in his late twenties‚ as he sprinkled him with holy water and murmured a prayer.

  “I will use your English name. I will call you Charlie.” The minister then shook his hand. Charlie Toozak was the first Eskimo of his family to have two names‚ English and Eskimo. “Welcome to the fold.”

  With this deed‚ Charlie thought the shaman’s curse that he had heard about from his father and grandfather would vanish. But outside the church he still heard generations of voices repeating the words in his head: “Protect Siku until he dies.” But then‚ for the first time‚ he thought he heard an echo of those words: “Or until he saves a Toozak.”

  That’s odd‚ he thought. Imagine a whale saving a person. Those shamans are pretty clever. He pushed back his hood and ran his fingers through his hair. Try as he might to brush it away‚ the curse was still upon him like snowfall. But now he had something new to think about. He could not shake it even though he no longer believed in shamans.

  “Oh‚ the power of Eskimo stories‚” he lamented.

  It was a new time‚ and yet the curse held him.

  Several days later‚ U.S. Navy freight planes landed on the Barrow airstrip. Barges were being unloaded at the beach. Charlie Toozak went to see them. Sailors were unloading building supplies‚ vehicles‚ and machinery. An officer beside him said the materials had been transported here to build an Arctic research lab for the navy. When it was finished it would contain dining rooms‚ business offices‚ laboratories‚ and living quarters for officers. Others would be for biologists‚ hydrographers‚ weather scientists‚ oceanographers‚ and anthropologists.

  While Charlie was staring at the wondrous materials being loaded onto huge trucks‚ the officer at his elbow told him that the United States had just ended a war. Now scientists wanted to know more about the people‚ plants‚ animals‚ marine life‚ and ocean currents in the Arctic.

  “They are hiring‚” he said. “You should look into it.”

  The next day Charlie Toozak applied for a job and was later hired to help with the wolf research program. A dozen captive wolves were being studied to learn how to survive the Arctic winters without water. He talked to his charges with howls and gestures and comforted them when they were ill. He loved his work and was good at it.

  At the lab he spoke English and rarely used his Eskimo language. One day when his father asked him a question‚ he answered in English.

  That day Toozak IV said to himself‚ I cannot speak to my son. I cannot ask him where the airplanes come from‚ or how the trucks move without dogs. Have I lost him?

  In the summer of l948‚ a freight ship sailed through the Bering Strait and north on the Arctic Ocean. Belching black clouds‚ its propellers cutting the water‚ it steamed on to Barrow in only three days instead of weeks.

  “Haul the crates out of the hold‚” ordered Captain Tom Boyd IV. “We are at Barrow‚ Alaska.” His thirteen-year-old son‚ Thomas Boyd V‚ know as Tommy‚ was watching the sun dip halfway below the horizon and rise again. The summer was nearly over. They must get out of the Arctic. Then‚ out of the ocean nearby‚ came a rare sight‚ a bowhead whale. It blew‚ breached‚ and dove.

  Tommy stared.

  “Dad‚” he said‚ “I just saw a whale. He had a funny white spot on his chin.”

  “Say that again‚ Tommy.”

  “A whale. He had a spot that looks like a man dancing on his chin.”

  “Really?” his dad questioned as he stared out into the ocean. Just then‚ the whale spy hopped out of the ocean‚ greeting the ship. Captain Boyd sucked in his breath and stood motionless until the whale disappeared back into the ocean‚ leaving waves in its wake. “There is a story our ancestors tell about seeing a whale just like that years ago. Could it be that same one with the mark on its chin? If so‚ it’s got to be a hundred years old! I didn’t even think there were any bowheads left around here.”

  Tommy’s eyes widened. His father continued speaking. “Whaling used to be a very important industry around here. You know all of your forefathers—my grandfather‚ and his father before him‚ for as long back as we know—worked on the sea. And some of them worked in the whaling industry. It employed thousands of skilled crews to harvest the whales. But the commercial whalers depleted the oceans and now there just aren’t many whales left. So whaling isn’t a business here anymore.”

  “But Eskimos kill whales‚” Tommy protested.

  “Yes‚ but for thousands of years‚ they only killed what they needed. The whales are food and life’s necessities.”

  He patted his son on the back. “Maybe the whales are coming back.” He gazed out to the ocean once more and walked over to the railing to see that the cargo was unloaded with care.

  Near the village of Bar
row‚ pulsating mechanical booms shook ’s ocean space. He surfaced and spy hopped. A group of men were setting off dynamite on the ice. They were looking for oil—not whale oil but petroleum. The roar of the engines bothered his ears and body. Taking a breath‚ he dove deep into the cold‚ clear water. Swimming as rapidly as he was able to‚ he put distance between himself and the explosions. When he met the coastal current‚ he slowed down. The ocean currents split at Point Barrow. One flowed strong as a river to the north through heavy ice. The other flowed east along the Canadian coast.

  Every year since he had been born‚ Siku had taken the coastal current‚ but not this time. This time the blasts forced him to take a more difficult route farther north through broken ice to get to his summer home. Enjoying the tumbling floes as he swam‚ he finally caught up with a group of male bowheads.

  They had more members than they’d had in the last fifty years. No Yankees had been whaling since then. Now the ice whales were increasing in numbers—coming out of hiding in bays and remote waters. was among them.

  swam quietly‚ listening to the male bowheads and the whistles and roars of the females ahead of them. The females were communicating with each other and their newborns. Swimming among the ice chunks on the northern current‚ he heard no more whaling ships.

  Then heard the distinctive sound of umiaq paddles. He noted the location of the umiaq and turned away.

  A harpooner in the umiaq saw turn and tossed the harpoon.

  Siku threw himself thirty feet in the air. When he splashed back down into the water‚ the waves swamped the umiaq. Siku would not give himself to this crew. He did not know them.

  He was now one hundred years old and weighed sixty-five tons‚ and he could rock a whaling boat with a single swing of his huge flukes. He rose again‚ and thrust himself out of the sea. Water rained down. The great splash reflected the sun’s rays‚ creating a glittering orange‚ green‚ and yellow waterfall. It was a beautiful moment. The huge wave that followed lifted the boat and drove it toward an ice floe.

  Other boats came to help‚ thinking he was dead. But he was not dead. Pumping his gigantic fluke‚ he dove.

  swam under the umiaqs. The whalers watched the great whale in awe as he disappeared beneath the ice. They knew this whale was special.

  A living mat of sea life growing on the seafloor glowed green‚ red‚ and brown. He slowed down and lolled until he heard the whalers’ paddles in the water. With that‚ he plunged down into the depths of Barrow Canyon.

  In its dark valley he rested for almost forty-five minutes before rising to breathe. The whalers had left. Soaked by ’s splash‚ they had paddled to their ice camp to get out of their freezing‚ wet parkas.

  surfaced. Arctic cod circled him in a Ferris wheel of fish wizardry. They were seeking the same tiny food that he sought.

  felt emboldened by the many whirling cod. He spy hopped to see where he was. He saw only guillemots‚ in their black plumage‚ their heads held high. He saw no whalers.

  lay on the surface of the water breathing heavily. His rostrum protruded slightly. Slowly he became aware of a new sensation . . . a warm current. Barely a fluke wide‚ it flowed over him like a scarf. It had come from the faraway Atlantic Ocean. Was it a sign of changes to come to the Arctic?

  Siku swam directly toward the Beaufort Sea. Even though he had strayed from the familiar route‚ magnetic fields told him where to go. Despite his one hundred years‚ the deep grooves in his brain still processed data from the sun‚ water‚ and weather and reported it to his body. He knew the sea and all its voices.

  Along the coast‚ felt that thread of warm water again and swam with it until it was gone. Windblown whitecaps took its place.

  Steadily swam slowly on‚ heading northeast to the summer feeding grounds.

  Something good happened on January 3‚ 1959. Alaska became the United States of America’s forty-ninth state. The people of Barrow celebrated.

  Charlie Toozak did a one-arm handstand and a high kick that Ernest had taught him so long ago when his father had sought out the great whaler. They were both games in the Eskimo Olympics‚ and he was good at them. Ernest cheered for him.

  “Aarigaa!” people shouted at the end of the performance.

  Charlie’s wife‚ Maria‚ and her women friends were singing happily as they prepared precious whale for everyone.

  That summer‚ Charlie’s son‚ Robert Toozak (Toozak VI) and his friend Benny (Ernest’s grandson) were paddling a large kayak not far from shore when they saw something odd—an expoloratory commercial crabber from the Bering Sea.

  “They’re setting crab pots‚” said Benny. “Let’s go see them.”

  The commercial fishermen warned them off. They were casting huge pots into the sea in hopes of finding new crabbing grounds and didn’t want the native people to watch them too closely. As the pots sank the men fed out over two hundred feet of rope. Bobbing buoys marked the pots.

  Eii‚ murmured Robert to himself. I’ll come back and cut the ropes when no one is around. Even though his father claimed not to believe in it‚ he too had passed down to his son the stories of the family legend and their mission to protect the special whale‚ Siku‚ and whales in general. Robert knew these ropes would be a danger to the whale‚ and he leaped at the chance to protect him‚ as seven generations of his family had done‚ and to cause some mischief.

  That night‚ Robert would cut the ropes‚ much to the outrage of the fishermen. He continued to look out for Siku’s safety‚ though he never saw the whale.

  In 1964‚ Robert Toozak married a woman named Flossie and‚ a year later‚ his first child‚ a girl named Emily Toozak‚ was born.

  On a day in late May of the year 1980‚ Emily Toozak‚ now fifteen‚ and her younger brother‚ Oliver Toozak VII‚ were sitting on the bluff behind their house. A white cloud with a dark bottom was visible on the horizon.

  “Water sky‚” Emily Toozak said. “It says that the leads are open‚ those rivers of water in the sea ice. The whales migrate up these ocean lanes to the Beaufort Sea.” She pulled her hood closer to protect her face from the wind. It held her warm breath like a heater. Emily loved to hear stories of her grandfather’s teacher‚ Ernest. Very old now‚ he had been a great whaler‚ and knew more about whales than anyone else in Barrow. He lived in the last sod house in Barrow‚ and used his knowledge of nature to track the whales. He had even helped her great-grandfather protect them.

  “Eii‚” she said. “Water sky. The leads are open. Many whales are going past. I know it is dangerous but I am going to walk out on the land-fast ice as far as I can and stand under the water sky. I want to see the whales going by.” She did not tell Oliver how many times she had already done this by herself‚ hoping to catch a glimpse of a whale. Unlike her younger brother‚ she did believe in the old ways‚ and knew she must do everything she could to watch over the whales and their spirits.

  “Okay‚” Oliver said. Normally he grumbled when he had to accompany Emily on adventures. He was not interested in the old ways at all. But he was in a good mood today. The two scrambled over white ice blocks with their blue-green shadows until they came to a pressure ridge‚ the hard‚ land-fast ice that the pack ice from the north hits and pushes up into mountains. They picked their way up and climbed to the top. There they looked out over the ocean.

  Just then‚ in the cobalt black lead below them‚ the water parted and the rostrum of a whale emerged. He breathed out‚ sending up a fountain of mist. It turned to ice fog and fell back into the water. There was a pause‚ then a huge bowhead whale breached. He rose almost eye level with them. On his lip was a white patch shaped like a dancing Eskimo.

  The two siblings gasped. The whale was so close. He was huge.

  Both children had heard the story of the curse put on their ancestors‚ though neither of them really believed in curses. But suddenly Emily felt sh
e understood the bond the first Toozak had felt for the whale. “It’s Siku‚” she whispered. “Great Whale‚ I will always protect you.”

  Oliver laughed. “That’s impossible. How could you protect him? He’s too big. Even his flukes would get in the way.”

  “Jonah was saved by a whale‚” said Emily. “Maybe Siku could save me.”

  “From what?” Oliver scoffed.

  Emily took in another long look at the whale. Before Oli-ver could inquire any further‚ she said‚ “Let’s get closer.” They climbed down the pressure ridge to the turquoise shelf of ice at the water’s edge. On the shelf ice‚ Emily‚ with the wind screaming around her‚ tapped Oliver’s arm and pointed.

  “Oliver‚ look in the distance‚” she said. “An icebreaker.”

  “So what? No bowhead would ever get near a boat. Let’s go home‚” he said. “I’m cold.”

  “We have to stay! We’re Toozaks. I want to watch. I want to see that whale again. Siku could be in danger!”

  “You can stay‚ but I’m going home.” He climbed back up the way they had come‚ and then descended out of sight.

  Emily Toozak stared at the distant icebreaker‚ wondering how to protect Siku from this. She searched the blue-purple lead of open water for him.

  Siku suddenly breached not fifty feet from her. He turned and looked Emily Toozak in the eyes. Emily looked back at him.

  “GO! GO! SIKU‚ GO!” she shouted‚ and the great whale splashed back in the water. The droplets rose as high as her head. Emily saw big footprints heading north.

  But then the footprints turned around and came back toward her. Siku swam up to the ice edge and rolled onto his side‚ bringing an eye to the surface. He peered up at Emily Toozak. A flash of recognition passed between them.