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VIII
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee,
On the shining
Big-Sea-Water,
With his fishing-line of cedar,
Of the twisted bark of cedar,
Forth to catch the
sturgeon Nahma,
Mishe-Nahma, King of Fishes,
In
his birch canoe exulting
All alone went Hiawatha.
Through the clear, transparent water
He could see
the fishes swimming
Far down in the depths below
him;
See the yellow perch, the Sahwa,
Like a
sunbeam in the water,
See the Shawgashee, the
craw-fish,
Like a spider on the bottom,
On the
white and sandy bottom.
At the stern sat Hiawatha,
With his fishing-line of cedar;
In his plumes
the breeze of morning
Played as in the hemlock
branches;
On the bows, with tail erected,
Sat
the squirrel, Adjidaumo;
In his fur the breeze of
morning
Played as in the prairie grasses.
On the
white sand of the bottom
Lay the monster Mishe-Nahma,
Lay the sturgeon, King of Fishes;
Through his
gills he breathed the water,
With his fins he fanned
and winnowed,
With his tail he swept the sand-floor.
There he lay in all his armor;
On each side a shield
to guard him,
Plates of bone upon his forehead,
Down his sides and back and shoulders
Plates of bone
with spines projecting
Painted was he with his
war-paints,
Stripes of yellow, red, and azure,
Spots of brown and spots of sable;
And he lay there
on the bottom,
Fanning with his fins of purple,
As above him Hiawatha
In his birch canoe came
sailing,
With his fishing-line of cedar.
"Take my
bait," cried Hiawatha,
Dawn into the depths beneath
him,
"Take my bait, O Sturgeon, Nahma!
Come up
from below the water,
Let us see which is the
stronger!"
And he dropped his line of cedar
Through the clear, transparent water,
Waited vainly
for an answer,
Long sat waiting for an answer,
And repeating loud and louder,
"Take my bait, O King
of Fishes!"
Quiet lay the sturgeon, Nahma,
Fanning slowly in the water,
Looking up at Hiawatha,
Listening to his call and clamor,
His
unnecessary tumult,
Till he wearied of the shouting;
And he said to the Kenozha,
To the pike, the
Maskenozha,
"Take the bait of this rude fellow,
Break the line of Hiawatha!"
In his fingers Hiawatha
Felt the loose line jerk and tighten,
As he drew
it in, it tugged so
That the birch canoe stood
endwise,
Like a birch log in the water,
With the
squirrel, Adjidaumo,
Perched and frisking on the
summit.
Full of scorn was Hiawatha
When he saw
the fish rise upward,
Saw the pike, the Maskenozha,
Coming nearer, nearer to him,
And he shouted
through the water,
"Esa! esa! shame upon you!
You are but the pike, Kenozha,
You are not the fish
I wanted,
You are not the King of Fishes!"
Reeling downward to the bottom
Sank the pike in
great confusion,
And the mighty sturgeon, Nahma,
Said to Ugudwash, the sun-fish,
To the bream, with
scales of crimson,
"Take the bait of this great
boaster,
Break the line of Hiawatha!"
Slowly
upward, wavering, gleaming,
Rose the Ugudwash, the
sun-fish,
Seized the line of Hiawatha,
Swung
with all his weight upon it,
Made a whirlpool in the
water,
Whirled the birch canoe in circles,
Round
and round in gurgling eddies,
Till the circles in
the water
Reached the far-off sandy beaches,
Till the water-flags and rushes
Nodded on the
distant margins.
But when Hiawatha saw him
Slowly
rising through the water,
Lifting up his disk
refulgent,
Loud he shouted in derision,
"Esa!
esa! shame upon you!
You are Ugudwash, the sun-fish,
You are not the fish I wanted,
You are not the
King of Fishes!"
Slowly downward, wavering, gleaming,
Sank the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,
And again the
sturgeon, Nahma,
Heard the shout of Hiawatha,
Heard his challenge of defiance,
The unnecessary
tumult,
Ringing far across the water.
From the
white sand of the bottom
Up he rose with angry
gesture,
Quivering in each nerve and fibre,
Clashing all his plates of armor,
Gleaming bright
with all his war-paint;
In his wrath he darted
upward,
Flashing leaped into the sunshine,
Opened his great jaws, and swallowed
Both canoe and
Hiawatha.
Down into that darksome cavern
Plunged
the headlong Hiawatha,
As a log on some black river
Shoots and plunges down the rapids,
Found
himself in utter darkness,
Groped about in helpless
wonder,
Till he felt a great heart beating,
Throbbing in that utter darkness.
And he smote it in
his anger,
With his fist, the heart of Nahma,
Felt the mighty King of Fishes
Shudder through each
nerve and fibre,
Heard the water gurgle round him
As he leaped and staggered through it,
Sick at
heart, and faint and weary.
Crosswise then did
Hiawatha
Drag his birch-canoe for safety,
Lest
from out the jaws of Nahma,
In the turmoil and
confusion,
Forth he might be hurled and perish.
And the squirrel, Adjidaumo,
Frisked and chatted
very gayly,
Toiled and tugged with Hiawatha
Till
the labor was completed.
Then said Hiawatha to him,
"O my little friend, the squirrel,
Bravely have
you toiled to help me;
Take the thanks of Hiawatha,
And the name which now he gives you;
For
hereafter and forever
Boys shall call you Adjidaumo,
Tail-in-air the boys shall call you!"
And again
the sturgeon, Nahma,
Gasped and quivered in the
water,
Then was still, and drifted landward
Till
he grated on the pebbles,
Till the listening
Hiawatha
Heard him grate upon the margin,
Felt
him strand upon the pebbles,
Knew that Nahma, King
of Fishes,
Lay there dead upon the margin.
Then
he heard a clang and flapping,
As of many wings
assembling,
Heard a screaming and confusion,
As
of birds of prey contending,
Saw a gleam of light
above him,
Shining through the ribs of Nahma,
Saw the glittering eyes of sea-gulls,
Of Kayoshk,
the sea-gulls, peering,
Gazing at him through the
opening,
Heard them saying to each other,
"'T is
our brother, Hiawatha!"
And he shouted from below
them,
Cried exulting from the caverns:
"O ye
sea-gulls! O my brothers!
I have slain the sturgeon,
Nahma;
Make the rifts a little larger,
With your
claws the openings widen,
Set me free from this dark
prison,
And henceforward and forever
Men shall
speak of your achievements,
Calling you Kayoshk, the
sea-gulls,
Yes, Kayoshk, the Noble Scratchers!"
And the wild and clamorous sea-gulls
Toiled with beak
and claws together,
Made the rifts and openings
wider
In the mighty ribs of Nahma,
And from
peril and from prison,
From the body of the
sturgeon,
From the peril of the water,
They
released my Hiawatha.
He was standing near his
wigwam,
On the margin of the water,
And he
called to old Nokomis,
Called and beckoned to
Nokomis,
Pointed to the sturgeon, Nahma,
Lying
lifeless on the pebbles,
With the sea-gulls feeding
on him.
"I have slain the Mishe-Nahma,
Slain the
King of Fishes!" said he'
"Look! the sea-gulls feed
upon him,
Yes, my friends Kayoshk, the sea-gulls;
Drive them not away, Nokomis,
They have saved me
from great peril
In the body of the sturgeon,
Wait until their meal is ended,
Till their craws are
full with feasting,
Till they homeward fly, at
sunset,
To their nests among the marshes;
Then
bring all your pots and kettles,
And make oil for us
in Winter."
And she waited till the sun set,
Till
the pallid moon, the Night-sun,
Rose above the
tranquil water,
Till Kayoshk, the sated sea-gulls,
From their banquet rose with clamor,
And across
the fiery sunset
Winged their way to far-off
islands,
To their nests among the rushes.
To his
sleep went Hiawatha,
And Nokomis to her labor,
Toiling patient in the moonlight,
Till the sun and
moon changed places,
Till the sky was red with
sunrise,
And Kayoshk, the hungry sea-gulls,
Came
back from the reedy islands,
Clamorous for their
morning banquet.
Three whole days and nights
alternate
Old Nokomis and the sea-gulls
Stripped
the oily flesh of Nahma,
Till the waves washed
through the rib-bones,
Till the sea-gulls came no
longer,
And upon the sands lay nothing
But the
skeleton of Nahma.
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