"But I would not like to be harpooned by either," I reminded him.
"But," Imnak reminded me, "you are not a sea sleen, are you?"
"No," I granted him. That seemed incontestable. It was sometimes difficult to enter into disputation with Imnak.
"Be friendly," said Imnak. "Do not be a sour fellow. Do not be morose. Be outgoing!"
"Hello, Sleen!" I called.
"Good," said Imnak. "That is a start."
"How do you do this?" I asked.
"Listen," said Imnak. He spoke out, over the icy waters. "Tal," said he, "my lovely brothers, my dangerous brethren. How beautiful and strong you are. How fast you swim. And your meat is so good in soups. I am Imnak, only a poor hunter. I would like very much to harpoon you. I have a little harpoon here who would like to see you. I would take it as a great honor if you would let me harpoon you. I would be very grateful."
"That is the silliest thing I have ever heard," I told Imnak.
"How many sleen have you harpooned today?" asked Imnak.
"I have harpooned no sleen today," I said.
"I have harpooned two," said Imnak. "Try it."
"Very well," I said. I wondered if I had been on the water too long. Sometimes there is an affliction which affects those in kayaks though it is usually the case when it is clearly daylight and the rocking, the endless waiting, the reflections off the water, make one suddenly lose all sense of time and place, and one seems lost in nothingness, and then one must sing or scream, and strike the water with the paddle, or go mad and die, sometimes cutting one's own kayak to pieces.
I. looked out over the water. "Greetings, lovely sleen," I said. "I have been out here a long time waiting for you. I would certainly like to harpoon one of you. If you could see your way clear to coming over and being harpooned, I would certainly appreciate it."
"Not bad," said Imnak.
"Arlene would like to have something for a soup," I said. "Do you think you could help me out?"
"Now you are catching on," said Imnak.
"I admire you very much, you long, sleek swimmers," I said. "You are very beautiful and strong, and you swim like lightning." I looked at Imnak. "How was that?" I asked.
"Splendid," said Iinnak. "Look out!" he cried.
The sleen had risen up under the kayak and It lifted a yard from the water and tumbled from the surfacing back of the glistening, wet mammal. I and the craft, one functional unit, slipped from the animal's back and fell sideways into the water. I wrenched myself to the side and righted the light, narrow vessel. The sleen shook itself in the water and then snapped away some yards from the kayak. My face felt frozen from the sea water freezing on it. I jerked a mitteu off and rubbed my eyes. I still held the paddle but the harpoon and lance were in the water.
"You see," said Imnak, "you are catching on."
I spat out some water.
"There is the sleen," said Imnak, pointing.
I looked out across the icy water, where he had pointed. To be sure, there was the head of the sleen, about a quarter emerged, the eyes and nose flat with the water. What I could see of the head seemed very large. It was eighteen inches or more in breadth. I pulled the mitten back on. My hand was cold.
"I think he likes you," said Imnak.
I drew the harpoon toward me by the line fastened to the kayak.
"Do not move too swiftly," said Imnak, "lest he charge and kill you."
"It is well he does not dislike me," I said. "Otherwise I might he in real danger."
"Oh, oh," said Imnak.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"Perhaps you should not have talked to that sleen," said Imnak.
"Why not?" I asked.
"That, I think, is a rogue sleen," said Imnak. "It is a broad-head, and they are rare in these waters in the fall. Too, see the gray on the muzzle and the scarring on the right side of the head, where the fur is gone?"
"Yes," I said.
"I think it is a rogue," he said. "Also, see the way he is watching you."
"Yes," I said.
"I think it has been hunted before," he said.
"Perhaps," I said. Generally a sleen watches you warily and then, as you approach, submerges. Normally, though it is swift to attack an object moving about in the water, like a swimmer, it will not attack a vessel. Its attack instincts are apparently not triggered by that configuration, or perhaps there is no stimulating smell or familiar pressure patterns, such as it would commonly associate with its prey or a vulnerable object, in the water, from the passage of the craft and the stroke of the paddle. This sleen, however, did not seem to be watching us warily. Rather there was something rather menacing in its attitude.
"Hello, Sleen," I said.
"Do not be silly," said Imnak. 'That is a very dangerous animal."
"Am I not supposed to talk to it?" I asked. I thought I might give Imnak back a bit of his own medicine.
"One must be careful what sleen one talks to," said Imnak. 'There is a time to talk and coax, and a time to be quiet."
"I see." I said, smiling.
"You may talk to it if you wish," said Imnak, "but I would not do so if I were you."
"Why not?" I asked.
"It might listen," he said.
"Is that not the point?" I asked, chuckling.
"That is one sleen you would just as soon not have listen to you," said Imnak. "That is a rogue broad-head, and I think he has been hunted before."
"One must be careful what sleen one takes up with," I said.
"Precisely," said Imnak.
I fished the lance out of the water. I now had both. the lance and the harpoon beside me.
"Arlene would like something for a soup," I said to the sleen. "Can you help me out?"
"Be silent." whispered Imnak, horrified.
"I thought you said he liked me," I said.
"He may be only pretending," said Imnak.
"I think he is really a good fellow," I said.
"Let us not take the chance," said Imnak. "Do not turn your back on him. We will wait quietly until he goes away, and then we will go back to camp."
"No," I said.
"We have two sleen," said Imnak.
"You have two sleen." I said.
"Do not be foolish, Tarl, who hunts with me," said Imnak.
"I am sure he is really a nice sleen," I said.
"Look out!" cried Imnak. "He is coming!"
I dropped the harpoon for it would be an extremely difficult cast to strike the animal head on. The bone point of the harpoon, thrown, would probably not penetrate the skull and it would be difficult to strike the submerged, narrow forepart of the body knifing toward the kayak. I thrust the lance point into the rushing, extended, double-fanged jaws and it penetrated through the side of the mouth, tearing, the animal's face a yard up the shaft. It reared six feet out of the water vertically beside the slender hide vessel. With two hands on the shaft I forced the twisting body to fall away from the craft. One of the large flippers struck me, buffeting me, spinning me and the vessel about, the animal then slipping free of the shaft of the lance. It circled the craft its mouth hot with blood flowing into the cold water. It was then I retrieved the harpoon again from the water by its line, for it had been once more struck away from me. I set the light harpoon into the notch on the throwing board and, even mittened, an instant before the beast turned toward me, grunted, snapping the throwing board forward and downward, speeding the shaft toward the enraged animal. The bone head, vanishing, sunk into its withers and it snapped downward, diving, bubbles breaking up to the surface, and swift blood. The line snapped out from its tray darting under the water. In moments the harpoon shaft and foreshaft bobbed to the surface, but the bone harpoon head, its line taut, turning the head in the wound, held fast. I played the line as I could. The animal was an adult, large-sized broad-head. It was some eighteen to twenty feet in length and perhaps a thousand pounds in weight. At the length of the line I feared the kayak and myself would be drawn under the water. Imnak, too, came to the line, and, straining, together we held it. The two kayaks dipped, stems downward. "He is running," said Imnak. He released the line. The kayak spun and then nosed forward. I held the line being towed by the beast somewhere below the water. "Loose the line!" called Imnak. "He is running to the ice!" I saw a pan of ice ahead. "Loose the line!" called Imnak. But I did not loose the line. I was determined not to lose the beast. I held the line in my left hand, wrapped about my wrist. With the lance in my right hand I thrust against the pan of ice. Then the lance slipped on the ice and the line slipped to the side and I in the kayak was dragged up on the ice skidding across it and then slipped loose of it and slid into the water to the side. "It is running to the sea!" called Imnak. following me as he could in his own vessel. Then the line went slack. "It is turning," said Imnak. "Beware!" But in a few moments I saw the body of the sleen rise to the surface, rolling, buoyant. It was some sixty feet from the kayak. "It is not dead," said Imnak. "I know," I said. It was easy to see the breath from its nostrils, like a spreading fog on the cold water. The water had a glistening, greasy appearance, for it bad begun to freeze. It was dark about the animal, from the blood. We brought our kayaks in close, to finish the animal with our lances. "Beware," said Imnak. "It is not dead." "It has lost much blood," I said. "It is still alive," he said. "Beware."