Authors: Jean Craighead George
Ice Whale (20 page)
felt the rage of his old mentorâ swam under the ice shelf to his breathing crackâ and hung still.
did not follow . . . . The sea ice had roiled and banged against himâ irritating the old whale more. He breached and lunged at Agvik and TJ in their boat. He thrashedâ an angry animal that sailors call a “rogue whale.”
“What's going on?” TJ asked. “Is that Siku again?”
“Noâ” said Agvik. “It's another old maleâ not Siku.” He felt a fear he had not felt when Siku was present.
Agvik and TJ paddled fiercely to get away from the whale.twistedâ changed his directionâ and came at them in a wave of motion.
“Hold your breathâ TJâ” Agvik shouted.
TJ took a deep breath. The kayak turned upside down. Agvik righted the craft with a stroke of his paddle. When they surfaced in the numbing water, TJ was spluttering and Agvik was wet but calm. Although chilled, they were warm enough in their Eskimo clothing.
Alarmedâ Siku swam toward the old whale. He edged up to him andâ using his whole bodyâ pushedaway from the boys.slapped his tail in frustration. And then he was gone.
Siku surfaced. His eye met Agvik's kind eyesâtwo lives that were laced together.
Safe on the iceâ their coats shedding waterâ Agvik and TJ stared at each other. They pulled the kayak onto the ice then.
“Siku!” TJ yelledâ and pointed to a whale that has risen from the water. “I saw him! He had a mark like an Eskimo dancer on his chin.” An ivory gull flew under the azure sky.
“Let's go homeâ” Agvik saidâ and turned around. Before themâ a fog was blowing in. It quickly erased sea and sky.
“What do we do now?” TJ yelled through the fog.
“Sit stillâ” Agvik answered.
The fog grew thicker. TJ could not even see their nearby kayak. He didn't know up from down. He felt dizzy.
“I'm dizzyâ” he gasped to Agvik.
“Close your eyes. It will pass.”
TJ closed his eyes.
“Here's some
maktak
[muk-tuk]â” Agvik said. “Whale blubber. Eat it and you will feel better.” TJ waved his hand blindly until he felt Toozak's hand and the
maktak
.
“It's sliced thinâ just eat itâ” he said.
TJ ate the lightâ nutty-tasting skin and fat and forgot his predicament. He felt new strength and a deep warmth return to his body. The more he ate, the better it tastedâ and the better it tastedâ the more he forgot the fog. Hours passed.
After what seemed like a longâ long timeâ TJ spoke.
“I'm coldâ” he said. “My teeth are chattering.”
“Swing your arms and eat more
maktak
,” Agvik instructed.
The fog began to thin and there in the haze before them was a ghost-like figure.
“Who's that?” came a voice out of the whiteness.
“Agvik and TJ Boydâ” Agvik answered.
A tall man emerged as the fog thinned.
“I'm Dr. Diazâ” he said. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same question!” responded Agvik. “We were trying to find a whale.”
TJ stomped his feet and beat his arms to get warm.
“I'm with the labâ” Dr. Diaz explained. “I was sampling seawater for an acidity test. We want to find out how the acidity of the water is changing due to the increase of carbon dioxide in the air.” The boys could see him more clearly as the fog lifted and swept away.
Whoosh!
A whale blew nearby.
Agvik turned around.
“Siku!” he yelled when he saw the whale's chin.
“You seem to know that whaleâ” Dr. Diaz said.
“I doâ” Agvik answered. “He has been part of our family for many generations.”
“That's valuable information. We are just finding out that whales are the oldest mammals on earth. The chemical composition of the eye suggests that some are two hundred years old. But we don't know for sure.”
“There have been old stone harpoon points found in some whales' bodiesâ” Agvik said. “They have been out of use for over one hundred and twenty-five yearsâ”
“Really?” said TJ.
“Yeahâ the last time they used that type of stone harpoon was back in the 1800s. So the whale in which they found it must have been older than that. He could have been big and old when he was struck and got away. Siku will be a hundred and fifty-seven in Julyâ” commented Agvik.
“You know that?” asked Dr. Diaz.
“Yesâ I know when Siku was bornâ” he said proudly.
“That's unusual. When?”
“Eighteen forty-eight. My ancestor saw his birth. It's a long story. My family has been protecting him ever since. We call him Siku. And he even saved my mother, and might have saved us today.”
“Very interesting.”
“My ancestors have passed this information to each generation in stories,” Agvik said. “Seeing Siku now confirms his age.”
“Hmm. But how do you recognize him?”
“He has a mark like a dancing Eskimo on his chin. It's a manâarm upâ feet apartâ and knees bent.”
“A recognizable mark?” asked Dr. Diaz.
“Yes, that was Siku. He comes about this time every year.”
Dr. Diaz looked at TJâ who was still shivering.
“Let's go to my tent and get warmâ” he said. “We'll have some food. This information you have is like finding the five-million-year-old prehuman Ardi skull. Amazing!” He smiled.
Agvik knew his whale was important. He felt good.
The fog lifted and there was Dr. Diaz's tentâ only a short walk away. They went insideâ where a Coleman stove burned. TJ, still damp from the kayak, wasted no time warming his hands and backside. The first thing Dr. Diaz did was to radio to headquarters. He told the dispatcher to tell Agvik's family that he and TJ were safe and with him. Then he made coffee and peanut butter sandwiches while talking enthusiastically about Siku.
“Since he has such a distinctive mark and since your family knows his birth dateâ” he reasoned aloudâ “we can be certain how old he is. We'll send this information to the acoustics labâ” Dr. Diaz said. “We'll record his voice on the tape in the acoustic shedâ and match it when he comes back each year. You did say he comes back every yearâ right?”
“He'll be backâ” Agvik said with certainty. “He always comes back.” The boys walked back to their kayak.
Dr. Diaz sat back and pondered what he had just heard.
B
y 2048â it had been two hundred years since
the first Yankee whale ship sailed into the Arctic. The western Arctic bowhead whale population had recovered its former numbers. The efforts of the Native communities to protect the whales and their habitat had been successful. The sea ice had retreated deep into the high Canadian Arctic in summer. Subarctic whale species like humpbackâ finâ and even blue whales now frequented the Chukchi and Beaufort seas.
The profitable years of oil development had diminished. Life in the Arctic communities still relied on a subsistence lifestyle . . . without whalesâ caribouâ sealsâ fishâ and the knowledge to hunt themâ the village could not survive. Many dog teams were back in use. While still a thriving community, the pace of life had slowed downâ and the village people walked the gravel roads of the villageâ visitingâ talkingâ and sharing food.
Agvik Boydâ now fifty-nine years oldâ and his crew had become one of the most successful whaling captains in Barrow. He lived on the edge of the village with his familyâ where he kept a team of twenty dogs. A wind generator powered his house.
“Load that sled with the tent and camping gearâ and tie down the
umiaq
to the other sledâ” called Agvik in a soft but commanding voice.
Emilyâ now a fit eighty-three-year-oldâ stood in the yard in her flower-patterned parka as the crew prepared to leave. Following a traditional ceremonyâ she was handing out candy and snacks to the villagers who had gathered to wish the whaling crews good luck and safety on the ice. She was an esteemed elder in the community and vital as a keeper of traditional knowledge. She knew the landâ iceâ weatherâ oral traditionsâ and traditional skills such as how to make the special waterproof stitches for the sealskin cover on the
umiaq
.
“Be safeâ good luckâ and may the Lord be with youâ” she said as the crew departed.
Pulling out of the villageâ they traveled out onto the shorefast ice to the north and out through the pressure ridges. It was mid-April and the ice was sharp white and blue. Pressure ridges formed mountains of ice that made travel difficult along the narrow trails. The trail was rough but intensely beautiful. The crew and dog team made their way steadily along the bumpy trail with their heavily laden sleds.
They reached the ice edge near the lead edge and set up the camp. The young boys erected the tent and windbreak and chipped out the
aamuaq
or ice ramp where the skin boat would be situated. It was set at the ice edge to launch at a moment's notice. They took the whaling tools from the sled and precisely arranged them in the
umiaq
. Thin headstone-like ice blocks were set along the lead edge to obscure the hunting
umiaq
and camp from the whales' view. After several hours of hard workâ they were ready.
Now it was time to wait for the whales. There were over twenty-five thousand bowheads nowâ but the hunters wanted certain whalesâthe small whales that provided tender food and were easier to haul onto the ice and butcher. The whole community needed the food these animals provided.
“Look down the leadâ about three miles outâ” said Agvik. His crew turned to see a huge blow.
“Wowâ that's a big whaleâ you can see it forever.”
“Too big to harvestâ” said Agvik.
They watched as the whale approached closer to the camp along the lead edge. The whale had the scarsâ white peduncleâ and completely white flukes showing great age.
Then Agvik became riveted. He knew this whale.
The great whale came close to the crewâ right at the lead edge. He spy hopped and exposed its head. Thereâ Agvik saw the white shape of an Eskimo dancer.
Agvik frozeâ it was Siku. He had not seen him since he was a young man.
He is still alive
â he said to himself.
The great whale was now sixty-five feet in length and swam in front of the crew's
umiaq
.
“He is giving himselfâ” Agvik said to himself.
Their eyes met; something deep and primeval passed between them.
The huge exhalations of the whale were almost deafening. He blew in placeâ not moving; it sprouted seven times in a slow pace with fifteen seconds between blows. Agvik leaned into the skin boat and took out the harpoon and shoulder gun.
The whale sounded briefly and then rose to the surface again in the same position. Water rushed off its back like a surfacing submarine. He was only ten feet from the ice.
Agvik raised the harpoon and then put it down. He nodded at the old whale. Siku blew once more.
“Goâ Sikuâ” Agvik spoke quietly. “Watch over us and your whales. We are one.”
Later that day, the news went out over the radio that Agvik's crew had caught a small plump whale. It was one of the small bowheads that they called
ingutuks
[ING-gu-tuk] that were the most prized, delicious, and tender. A chorus of cheers and hallelujah chants came from town over the radio. There would be a Nalukataq [NAL-ou-ka-tuk] or “spring whaling” festival that summer where the blanket toss is performed, and the whale is shared. There would be plenty of food for the community. Some would be shared at Nalukataq, and some would be saved for Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts. It would be a good winter in the Arctic.