But when Hiawatha saw himSlowly 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 bottomUp 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 swallowedBoth canoe and Hiawatha.
Down into that darksome cavernPlunged the headlong Hiawatha,As a log on some black riverShoots 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 FishesShudder through each nerve and fibre,Heard the water gurgle round himAs he leaped and staggered through it,Sick at heart, and faint and weary.
Crosswise then did HiawathaDrag 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 HiawathaTill 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 foreverBoys 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 landwardTill he grated on the pebbles,Till the listening HiawathaHeard 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 foreverMen shall speak of your achievements,Calling you Kayoshk, the sea-gulls,Yes, Kayoshk, the Noble Scratchers!"
And the wild and clamorous sea-gullsToiled with beak and claws together,Made the rifts and openings widerIn 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 perilIn 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 sunsetWinged 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 alternateOld Nokomis and the sea-gullsStripped 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 nothingBut the skeleton of Nahma.
IX
Hiawatha and the Pearl-Feather
On the shores of Gitche Gumee,Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,Stood Nokomis, the old woman,Pointing with her finger westward,O'er the water pointing westward,To the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descendingBurned his way along the heavens,Set the sky on fire behind him,As war-parties, when retreating,Burn the prairies on their war-trail;And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward,Suddenly starting from his ambush,Followed fast those bloody footprints,Followed in that fiery war-trail,With its glare upon his features.
And Nokomis, the old woman,Pointing with her finger westward,Spake these words to Hiawatha:"Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,Megissogwon, the Magician,Manito of Wealth and Wampum,Guarded by his fiery serpents,Guarded by the black pitch-water.You can see his fiery serpents,The Kenabeek, the great serpents,Coiling, playing in the water;You can see the black pitch-waterStretching far away beyond them,To the purple clouds of sunset!
"He it was who slew my father,By his wicked wiles and cunning,When he from the moon descended,When he came on earth to seek me.He, the mightiest of Magicians,Sends the fever from the marshes,Sends the pestilential vapors,Sends the poisonous exhalations,Sends the white fog from the fen-lands,Sends disease and death among us!
"Take your bow, O Hiawatha,Take your arrows, jasper-headed,Take your war-club, Puggawaugun,And your mittens, Minjekahwun,And your birch-canoe for sailing,And the oil of Mishe-Nahma,So to smear its sides, that swiftlyYou may pass the black pitch-water;Slay this merciless magician,Save the people from the feverThat he breathes across the fen-lands,And avenge my father's murder!"
Straightway then my HiawathaArmed himself with all his war-gear,Launched his birch-canoe for sailing;With his palm its sides he patted,Said with glee, "Cheemaun, my darling,O my Birch-canoe! leap forward,Where you see the fiery serpents,Where you see the black pitch-water!"
Forward leaped Cheemaun exulting,And the noble HiawathaSang his war-song wild and woful,And above him the war-eagle,The Keneu, the great war-eagle,Master of all fowls with feathers,Screamed and hurtled through the heavens.