Dan Simmons - The Terror

The girl wriggled in his grasp while smiling, and all the men except the possible medicine man laughed loudly.

“ Amooq ? ” said Irving, and the laughter rose in volume. Tuluqag and Amaruq spit out blubber they were laughing so hard.

“ Qaumaniq… amooq !” said Tikerqat and made a two-handed, open-fingered grabbing gesture in front of his own chest that was universal. But to make sure he got the point across, the hunter grabbed his wriggling woman – Irving had to think she was his wife – and quickly lifted her short, dark parka top.

The girl was naked under the animal skin, and her breasts were, indeed, very large… very large indeed for a woman so young.

John Irving felt himself blush from his blond hairline down to his chest. He lowered his gaze to the blubber he was still chewing. At that moment he would have laid fifty quid that Amooq was the Esquimaux language equivalent of “Big Tits.”

The men around him howled with laughter. The Qimmiq – the wolflike sled dogs around the wooden kamatik – howled and leapt against their tethers. The old man behind the sled, Kringmuluardjuk, actually fell onto the snow and ice he was laughing so hard.

Suddenly Amaruq – Wolf? – who had been playing with the telescope, pointed to the bare ridge from which Irving had descended into the valley and snapped what sounded like “ Takuva-a … kabloona qukiuttina ! ”

The group fell silent immediately.

The wolfish dogs began barking wildly.

Irving stood from where he had been crouching and shielded his eyes from the sun. He did not want to ask for the telescope back. There was the quickest motion of a human form in greatcoat silhouetted against the top of the ridge.

Wonderful ! thought Irving. All through the blubber feast and introductions, he’d been trying to decide how to get Tikerqat and the others to come back to Terror Camp with him. He’d been afraid that he would not be able to communicate well enough with just his hands and motions to persuade the eight Esquimaux males and two women and their dogs and sled to make the three-hour trip back to the coast with him, so he’d been trying to think of a way to get just Tikerqat to come along with him.

It was certain that the lieutenant could not just let these natives hike back to wherever they had come from. Captain Crozier would be at the camp tomorrow, and Irving knew from several conversations with the captain that contact with the local peoples was precisely what the tired and beleaguered captain most hoped might happen. The northern tribes, what Ross called northern highland tribes, are rarely warlike , Crozier had told his third lieutenant one night. If we come across a village of theirs on our way south, they may feed us well enough to get us provisioned properly for the long upstream haul to Great Slave Lake. At the very least, they could show us how to live off the land .

And now Thomas Farr and the others had come looking for him, following his footprints through the snow to this valley. The figure on the ridgeline had gone back over the ridge and out of sight – out of shock at seeing ten strangers in the valley or concern that he might frighten them? – but Irving had caught a glimpse of the greatcoat blowing in silhouette and the Welsh wig and comforter and knew that one of his problems had been solved.

If he could not persuade Tikerqat and the others to come back with them – and old Asiajuk the shaman might be a problem convincing – Irving and a few of his party would stay with the Esquimaux here in the valley, convince them to stay there with conversation and other presents from some of the other men’s packs, while he sent the fastest seamen running back to the coast to bring Captain Fitzjames and many more men to this place.

I can’t let them get away. These Esquimaux could be the answer to our problems. They may be our salvation.

Irving felt his heart pounding against his ribs.

“It’s all right,” he said to Tikerqat and the others, speaking in the calmest and most confident tones he could summon. “It’s just my friends. A few friends. Good men. They won’t harm you. We only have one rifle with us, and we won’t bring that down here. It’s all right. Just friends of mine whom you will enjoy meeting.”

Irving knew that they couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but he kept talking, using the same soft, reassuring voice he would have used at his family’s stables in Bristol to calm a skittish colt.

Several of the hunters had pulled their spears or harpoons from the snow and were holding them casually, but Amaruq, Tulugaq, Taliriktug, Ituksuk, the boy Qajorânguaq, the old man Kringmuluardjuk, and even the scowling shaman Asiajuk were looking to Tikerqat for guidance. The two women quit chewing blubber and quietly found their place behind the line of men.

Tikerqat looked at Irving. The Esquimaux’s eyes were suddenly very dark and very alien-looking to the young lieutenant. The man seemed to be waiting for some explanation. “ Khat-seet ? ” he said softly.

Irving showed open palms in a calming gesture and smiled as easily as he could. “Just friends,” he said, matching the softness of Tikerqat’s tone. “A few friends.”

The lieutenant glanced up at the ridgeline. It was still empty against the blue sky. He was afraid that whoever had come looking for him had been alarmed by the congregation in the valley and might be headed back. Irving was not sure how long he could wait here… how long he could keep Tikerqat and his people calm before they took flight.

He took a deep breath and realized that he would have to go after the man up there, call him back, tell him what had happened and send him to bring back Farr and the others as quickly as possible. Irving couldn’t wait.

“Please stay here,” said Irving. He set his leather valise in the snow near Tikerqat in an attempt to show that he was coming right back. “Please wait. I shan’t be a moment. I won’t even get out of your sight. Please stay.” He realized that he was gesturing with his hands as if asking the Esquimaux to sit, the way he would talk to a dog.

Tikerqat did not sit, nor did he reply, but he remained where he was standing while Irving backed away slowly.

“I’ll be right back,” called the lieutenant. He turned and jogged quickly up the steep scree and ice, onto the dark gravel at the top of the ridgeline.

Barely able to breath with the tension, he turned back at the top and looked down.

The ten figures, barking dogs, and sled were exactly where he had left them.

Irving waved, made gestures to show that he would be right back, and hurried over the ridge, ready to shout at any retreating sailor.

Twenty feet down the northeast side of the ridge, Irving saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

A tiny man was dancing naked except for his boots around a tall heap of discarded clothing on a boulder.

Leprechaun , thought Irving, remembering some of Captain Crozier’s tales. The image made no sense to the third lieutenant. It had been a day of strange sightings.

He stepped closer and saw that it was no leprechaun dancing but rather the caulker’s mate. The man was humming some sailor’s ditty as he danced and pirouetted. Irving could not help noticing the grub-white paleness of the little man’s skin, how his ribs pushed out so visibly, the goose bumps everywhere rising on his flesh, the fact that he was circumcised, and how absurd the pale white buttocks were when he pirouetted.

Walking up to him, shaking his head in disbelief, not in the mood to laugh but his heart still pounding with the excitement of finding Tikerqat and the others, Irving said, “Mr. Hickey. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”