The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole by R. M. Ballantyne (best historical biographies TXT) 📕

in the middle like that of a fishing-rod. There are four such sticks, fastened to, or radiating from, a strong steel central hinge, so that they can be folded together, or opened out into the form of a cross. A small but very strong cross of bamboo fits on the machine, behind the central hinge, and locks it in a distended position, after the silk has been placed on it. Strong cords run round the outer edges of the silk, and there are loops at the corners to attach it to the distenders. Thus, you see, the kite can be put up, or folded into a portable form like an umbrella, though not of course as quickly, nor yet as easily, owing to its great size.”

While he was speaking, the Captain was busily putting the several parts of the kite together.

As he concluded, he laid the machine on its face, locked it with the little bamboo cross, and then held it up in triumph, to the delight of his white observers, and the blank astonishment of the Eskimos. We say blank, because, unlike the boat, the nature of which they understood before it had been quite inflated, this machine was to them an absolute mystery, and seemed to be of no use at all.

Their opinion of it was not improved when a sudden puff of wind blew it flat on the ground, causing the Captain to fall on the top of it.

“It’s a little awkward in handling,” he growled, unlocking the centre-cross. “Hold the points down, lads, till I drag it into the umbrella form. There; it’s all safe now. The truth is, unmanageableness when in hand is the only fault of my kite. Once in the air, it’s as tractable as a lamb; getting it up is the chief difficulty, but that is not too great to be overcome.”

“Besides, you know, nothing’s perfect in this world, father,” said Benjy, with a wink at Butterface, who, having acute risible tendencies, exploded. Some of the Eskimos, whose sympathies were strong, joined in the laugh by way of relief to their feelings.

When the Captain had wound a strap round the closed kite, to restrain its volatile nature, he opened another large case which contained several reels of strong cord, somewhat resembling log-lines, but with this peculiarity, that, alongside of each thick cord there ran a thin red line of twine, connected with though not bound to the other by means of little loops or rings of twine fixed about six feet apart throughout its entire length.

“These are the cords to fly the kites,” said the Captain, taking up one of the reels, which was as large as a man’s hat. “You see I have three sets of silk in that box, and six sets of reels and sticks, besides a few spare pieces of the latter, so that we can afford to suffer a little damage. Now, the use of this peculiar sort of double line will be clear when in action, but I may as well explain it. The end of this stout line is to be made fast to the band which you saw on the kite, and the end of this thin red line to the top of its upright stick. You remember well enough how independent ordinary kites are. You cannot cause them to descend except by hauling them in by main force, and you cannot moderate their pull. This kite of mine is capable of exerting a pull equal to six horses, with a sufficiently strong wind. So, you see, it would be impossible for a dozen men to hold it without some check on its power. This check is supplied by the thin red line, which is made of the strongest silk. By pulling it gently you bend the head of the kite forward, so that it ceases to present a flat surface to the wind, which flies off it more or less at the tail. By pulling still more on the red line, the traction-power is still further reduced, and, with a good pull, the kite can be made to present its head altogether to the wind, and thus to lie flat on it, when, of course, it will descend slowly to the ground, waving from side to side, like a dropped sheet of paper.”

“Are you going to try it, father?” asked Benjy eagerly.

The Captain looked up at the clouds with a critical glance. “There’s hardly enough of wind to-day, boy. Nevertheless we will try.”

In a very short time the kite was again extended, the centre locked, the thick cord fixed to a loop in the band, and the thin cord to the head of the main stick. While this was being done, the corners were held down by Leo, Benjy, Anders, and Butterface.

“How about a tail, father?” asked Benjy, with sudden animation.

“Ha! I forgot the tail. I’ve got several tails. It’s well you reminded me.”

“It is indeed,” responded the boy, “for I remember well that when my kites lost their tails they used to whirl wildly about until they dashed their heads on the ground. This kite would be little better than a mad elephant without its tail!”

A short tail, made of the strongest cat-gut, was now fixed to the lower extremity of the kite. It had a bag at the end, to be weighted with stones as required.

“Now, then, Alf, do you carry the reel away fifty yards or so, and pay out the line as you go. Make a dozen of the Eskimos hold on with you till I come and regulate the pull. I must remain here to set it off.”

Alf did as he was ordered. When he was far enough out, the Captain and Leo raised the aerial monster with caution, grasping it by the shoulders, while Benjy held on to the tail. Their great care was to keep it flat, so that it presented nothing but its thin head to the wind, but this was a difficulty, for it kept fluttering as if anxious to get away, catching a slant of wind underneath now and then, which caused both Leo and the Captain to stagger.

“Don’t hold down the tail, Benjy,” cried the Captain, looking anxiously over his shoulder.

Unfortunately Ben did not hear the “don’t.” Not only did he hold on with increased vigour, but he gave the tail an energetic pull downwards. The result was that the wind got fairly underneath, and the head was jerked upward. Leo, fearing to tear the silk, let go, and the Captain was thrown violently off. Benjy alone stood to his guns—or to his tail—with loyal heroism for a moment, but when he felt himself lifted off the ground a few inches, a feeling of horror seized him. He let go, and came down with a whack.

Free at last, the huge kite shot upwards like a rocket, and a terrible howl from the Eskimo showed that all was not right at their end of the line. The truth was that none of them were impressed with the importance of the duty required of them. The sudden strain jerked the line out of the hands of some, and threw others to the ground, and Alf, who had for greater security taken a turn of the line round his right arm, was dragged forward at full racing speed. Indeed he was beginning to take those tremendous bounds called “giant strides,” which were sure to terminate in his being dragged along the ground.

Captain Vane saw the danger, and was equal to the occasion. There was little time for thought or action. Another moment and Alf would be off the beach into the sea.

“Let go! Alf; let go!” cried Leo, in an agony of alarm.

“No, no! hold on!” shouted the Captain.

Poor Alf could not help holding on. The turns of the line round his arm held him fast.

Another moment, and he was abreast of the Captain who sprang at him as he passed like a leopard on his prey and held on. But the pace was little checked with this additional weight. It was beyond the Captain’s running powers, and both he and Alf would have been thrown violently to the ground had it not happened that they had reached the water, into which they plunged with a tremendous splash. They were dragged through it, however, only for a few seconds, for by that time the Captain had succeeded in getting hold of the red line and pulling it separately. The result was immediate and satisfactory. The head of the kite was thrown forward, acting somewhat as a sail does when a ship is thrown into the wind, and the two unfortunates came to an anchor in four feet of water.

“We must not let it into the water, Alf,” gasped the Captain, clearing the water from his eyes.

“How can we prevent it?” spluttered Alf, shaking the wet hair off his face.

“Ease your fingers a bit. There; hold on.” As he spoke the Captain gave a slight pull on the regulating line. The kite at once caught the wind and soared, giving the two operators an awful tug, which nearly overturned them again.

“Too much,” growled the Captain. “You see it takes some experience to regulate the excitable thing properly. There, now, haul away for the shore.”

By this time they were joined by Leo and Chingatok, who ran into the water and aided them in dragging the refractory machine ashore.

“That’s a vigorous beginning, father,” remarked Benjy as they came to land.

“It is, my boy. Go and fetch me dry clothes while we haul in the kite and make her snug.”

“When do you mean to start?” asked Leo, as he coiled away the slack of the line on the reel.

“The first steady fair wind that blows from the south,” answered the Captain, “but we must have one or two experimental trials of the kites and boats together, before we set out on the real voyage.”

“It’s a capital idea,” returned Leo enthusiastically. “There’s a sort of neck-or-nothing dash about it that quite suits me. But, uncle, what of the Eskimos? The three boats won’t carry the half of them.”

“I know that, lad, and shall get over the difficulty by leaving some of them behind. Chingatok says they are quite able to take care of themselves; can easily regain the Greenland shore, find their canoes, or make new ones, and return to their own land if they choose.”

“But, uncle,” said Alf, who was by no means as reckless as his brother, “don’t you think it’s rather risky to go off into an unknown sea in open boats, for no one knows how long, to go no one knows exactly where?”

“Why, Alf,” returned the Captain with a laugh, “if you were as stupid about your scientific pursuits as you are about geographical affairs, you would not be worth your salt. A sea’s a sea, isn’t it, whether known or unknown, and the laws that affect all seas are pretty much alike. Of course it is risky. So is going on a forlorn hope. So is shooting with a set of fellows who don’t know how to manage their guns. So is getting on a horse, for it may kick you off or run away. So is eating fish, for you may choke yourself. Everything, almost, is more or less risky. You must risk something if you’d discover the North Pole, which has baffled adventurers from the days of Adam till now. And you are wrong in saying that we shall go off for no one knows how long. The distance from this island to the Pole is pretty nearly 200 miles. If our kites carry us along at the rate of ten miles an hour, we shall cover the distance in 20 hours. If we have calms or contrary winds we may take 20 days. If storms come, we have not much to fear, for the weather is warm,—so, too,—is the water. Then, our boats are lifeboats—they cannot sink. As to not knowing