CHAPTER XIX

GREENLAND AND THE ESQUIMAUX

There was a good deal of ice near the coast, yet, by setting a constant watch in the crow's nest of the steamer, Captain Williamson was able to steer a fairly straight course for Holstenborg.

"It is only a small Danish settlement," said Barwell Dawson, in reply to a question from Chet. "Ordinarily, on account of the marine laws made by Denmark, we might have trouble in landing, but being in need of repairs, I fancy there will be no difficulty."

A little later land was discovered, and presently the coast loomed up, dark and rocky, with the mountain tops covered with snow and ice. Then, through the glasses, they made out a few buildings, of stone and wood, clustered together near a natural harbor.

"Not much of a town, that's sure," was Andy's comment.

Signals were set, and as the steamer came to anchor, a small boat came out from shore. It contained one of the government officials, a round-faced, pleasant-looking Dane, with yellowish hair and mild blue eyes.

It was with some difficulty that matters were explained, and then arrangements were made to have the _Ice King_ towed to a spot where the necessary repairs could be made. Work on the vessel began the next day, and while this was going on the boys received permission to go ashore.

They found but little to see. There was a mine back of the settlement, where ore was being blasted out, and they watched several blasts go off. Then they walked to where a fishing vessel had just come in with, a large quantity of seals, and some fish which were called cod, but which they found to be of a different variety from those caught off the New England coast.

"Those seals ought to be valuable," said Andy. "Think of the price of a sealskin coat!"

"Not this kind of seal," answered Professor Jeffer, who chanced to be near at the time. "The seals from which we get sealskin coats such as you refer to come from the coast of Labrador and from Alaskan waters. These seals, as you will find by close examination, do not have a skin of fur, but one of hair, like a horse. But the Esquimaux use them for garment-making. An Esquimau woman will make herself a very fine dress out of these sealskins."

The boys watched the fish and seals taken ashore, and then caught sight of a man in the crowd who looked as if he might be American or English.

"I'd like to talk to that man," said Chet, and watching his chance, he called to the individual. The fellow called back, and when his work was ended, walked over to the boys.

"My name is Rooney, Jack Rooney," he said after the youths had introduced themselves. "I'm from New Brunswick, although I once lived in Maine. Glad to know you." And he shook hands.

"Have you been along the coast of Greenland long?" asked Chet.

"About fifteen years, off and on."

"Then you must know something about the whalers that come up here."

"Yes, I've been aboard plenty of 'em,--one time and another."

"Did you ever see the _Betsey Andrews_?"

Jack Rooney stood for a moment in deep thought, and then scratched his grizzled chin.

"How long ago is it she was in these parts?"

"Oh, two years ago at least."

"Who was her captain, do you know?"

"Captain Jacob Spark."

"Spark? Oh, yes, I remember him! A one-armed man, an old war veteran."

"Yes, I was told he had but one arm." Chet's heart began to beat a little faster. "Then you remember him and his ship?"

"Oh, yes."

"My father was on board the _Betsey Andrews_. He shipped the last time she left New Bedford."

"I see."

"She never came back, and I can't find out what became of her," continued Chet.

"What! was she lost at sea? But hold on, I remember hearing something about that." Jack Rooney scratched his head. "Let's see, who was it told me? Oh, I remember now, Tom Fetjen. He told me something about her getting fast in the ice, but I don't remember the particulars."

"Who is Tom Fetjen?"

"Oh, he's a fellow who travels up and down the Greenland coast, bartering with the Esquimaux--in a small way, you know."

"You don't remember what he said about the _Betsey Andrews_?"

"None of the particulars, no. But Fetjen could tell you, I am sure. He knew this one-armed Spark quite well. Often told stories about the captain."

"Where is Tom Fetjen now?"

"I don't know, but maybe I can find out," answered Jack Rooney.

The fisherman became interested in the boys, and had Chet tell more about his missing parent. Then he went in search of some men who had business dealings with Tom Fetjen, and talked to them in Danish.

"They say Tom Fetjen went up the coast to Upernivik," said Rooney, after the interview. "If your ship is bound for that port, you'll probably find him there. He owns a boat called the _Northland_, a little two-master."

This was all the information Chet could obtain in Holstenborg concerning the missing whaler.

"Well, that's something," said Andy. "You can talk to this Tom Fetjen when we reach Upernivik."

"If he doesn't leave there before we arrive."

"Rooney said he was apt to stay there quite a while, Chet."

"I know he did. Well, I suppose I can only wait and see." And Chet heaved a deep sigh.

While Andy and Chet were ashore interviewing Jack Rooney and others who could speak English, Captain Williamson was waited on by three of his hands. The delegation was headed by Pep Loggermore.

"What do you want?" demanded the master of the _Ice King_, briefly. He could readily see that trouble was brewing.

"We came to speak about them boys," replied Loggermore, doggedly. "We been talkin' amongst ourselves, and we don't want to take no more chances."

"What boys?" asked the captain, although he knew perfectly well who were meant.

"The boys that shot them geese and brought us bad luck."

"See here, Loggermore, this is all nonsense."

"Excuse me, Cap'n, but it ain't nonsense at all. We talked it over, and we are sure it was the killin' of them geese----"

"You talk like a fool," interrupted the master of the steamer. "Those boys are no more responsible for our ill luck than you or I. The ice knocked us a bit too hard, that's all."

"We want them boys kept ashore!" cried Pep Loggermore. "Ain't that so, mates?" he added, turning to his companions, and they nodded.

"What! Are you going to try to dictate to me?" roared Captain Williamson.

"We ain't asking anything but what's right. We----"

"Not another word, Loggermore. Go for'ard, all of you, and don't let me hear another word of this nonsense," said the captain, sharply.

"But, Cap'n----"

"Not another word, I told you, unless you want the cat!" answered Captain Williamson.

He drew himself up, and his eyes flashed dangerously, and the men silently left him and resumed their work in the forward part of the ship.

"Sailors are queer fellows," was Dr. Blade's comment. "Once they get an idea in their heads, you can't drive it out."

"I'll drive it out, don't fear!" answered the captain.

"It is too bad that the boys have made such enemies," went on the ship's physician. "I am afraid it will spoil a good deal of their pleasure."

When the chums came back to the steamer that evening, they noticed that two of the sailors looked at them darkly. Yet nothing was said to them of what had occurred, the sailors being afraid to speak, and the others not wishing to make the boys uneasy.

But among the sailors there was quite a talk over Andy and Chet.

"We'll make 'em stay ashore if we can," said Loggermore. "Just wait until we are ready to sail. I am not going to trust myself with fellows like that to bring me bad luck."

The repairs to the _Ice King_ took the best part of a week to make, but at the end of that time the ship's carpenter pronounced the craft as seaworthy as ever.

"She may stay up here for a year now, and never start those seams again," he said.

"Let us hope so," answered Barwell Dawson. "A leaky ship isn't at all to my liking."

Pep Loggermore and a crony watched for a chance to catch Andy and Chet ashore. What the sailors might have done, there is no telling, but certainly they would have done all in their power to prevent the boys from returning to the _Ice King_. But the lads kept on the vessel, there being nothing more to visit on land.

"We might heave 'em overboard some night," suggested Loggermore, but the other sailor would not listen to this proposal. He was willing to have the youths left behind, but that was as far as he cared to go.

"Never mind, we can watch them at Upernivik," said the tar. "There will be a better chance to leave them behind there than there was here." And with this proposal the affair rested, although Loggermore declared that if there was any more killing of birds from the ship he would heave the boys overboard sure. This may seem a terrible threat to some of my readers, but they must remember that some sailors, especially ignorant ones, are extremely superstitious, and they deem the killing of a bird at sea the worst kind of a bad omen.

The run up the Greenland coast was made without unusual incident. They passed a number of icebergs, but always at a distance, and the small ice did not bother them seriously. The weather moderated a little, so that life on deck proved delightful. The boys saw more wild geese, some ducks, and also some northern petrel, but, warned by Captain Williamson, did no more shooting.

"Upernivik is about the last settlement north of any importance," said Professor Jeffer to the boys. "It can be called the most northern town in the world. It is a trading station for the Esquimaux, and also has a mine, from which large quantities of cryolite are obtained."

"And what is cryolite?" asked Chet, curiously.

The professor smiled faintly. "It is a substance, found only in Greenland, from which washing soda is made, and also some kinds of baking powder. The metal, aluminum, is obtained from it, and it is also used in the making of certain kinds of glass. Greenland has a very large stratum or deposit of cryolite, and it is a source of considerable revenue to the mine owners, and also to the Danish government, the latter putting a heavy export tax on it."

It was nightfall when the steamer dropped anchor in the harbor of Upernivik. From the deck of the vessel Barwell Dawson, who had visited the settlement before, pointed out the governor's house, the Moravian church, and other buildings.

"There are quite a number of Esquimaux here, full-blooded and half-breeds," said he. "Most of them live in the stone huts along the mountain side."

"What do you mean by half-breeds?" questioned Andy.

"The half-breeds are the families of the Danish men who have married Esquimaux women," replied the explorer. "Some of the half-breeds are very intelligent, and they are also much cleaner than the full-blooded Esquimaux."

"Are the Esquimaux very dirty?" asked Chet.

"They are the dirtiest people on earth," was the emphatic answer. "And why shouldn't they be? They never wash, and the only thing they rub on their bodies is whale or seal oil, to keep out the cold and to help limber them up."

"Gracious! I shouldn't want to live in the same house with them!" cried Andy.

"You couldn't live with them, that is, not for any great length of time. The smell would make you sick."