Frank Richardson Pierce

“ He had seen raw men rise to great heights of courage, and die in silent bravery. The colorless Swede could have saved himself, throttled the Eskimo with his bare hands and taken the skin of oil, the walrus-hide and the spear, and with them food, warmth and protection. With the spear or without it, he could have beaten Walton to his knees, for he was a physical giant. Instead, he had given his life for another; and greater heights no man can attain. ”

“ The spear no longer lay on the ice in front of him, but he hugged the skin of oil even tighter to his breast. Walton caught himself plotting a route that would take him behind and above the Eskimo. Devils of his imagination whispered it would be easy; the native was unarmed save for a knife—a futile thing against a block of ice dropped from above. “He’s run his race; the end is near,” the voice of self-preservation whispered. “Your life is before you. You can do much for the world, for you are civilized and educated. Take his clothing for warmth, and his food for life. He is but a burden.” ”

“ Like the majority of civilized people, Walton did not know of the strange code more ancient than that of self-preservation.
Alone, Walton would have fought his way to the ice-armored shore. The Eskimo ignored it and crossed the floe. As aboard the schooner, he considered many things—then leaped to a small berg. Unconsciously Walton found himself considering the skin of seal-oil, and wondering if he could drink it. Of course the native possessed it, along with the ivory-headed spear and walrus-hide, but he was aged and weak, while Walton was young and strong. Age must sleep sometime. ”

“ The Eskimo took his first sip from the seal-oil.
Self-preservation came to him in his dreams the third night, awakened him and remained. He was bitterly cold, needed additional clothing, while his whole being cried out for food. As before, self-preservation pointed the way. Walton muttered aloud: “I can’t. I’m civilized. Mine’s a different code. We care for our aged to the last. We don’t strangle and rob them.” Self-preservation jeered:
“Of what avail is your civilization now? Will the few dollars in your pocket buy food? Can your education kill a bear or seal and provide you with meat? ”

“ Again the Eskimo repeated: “Men die and you live.”
At the native’s feet lay a section of walrus-skin, sufficient to wrap one man warmly. In his arms he held a skin filled with seal-oil—rancid stuff that would sicken a white man, though an Eskimo could live on it for a time. An ivory-headed spear was slung across his shoulders, and somewhere beneath his parka he carried a knife. Against this was Walton’s pocketknife and his youth. Which would survive? Walton knew the answer: neither! But one would go like a savage, and the other would go like a civilized man. ”

“ Age should give forth wisdom, and leave curiosity to youth, who must ever learn by experience. Strange that I should be curious at my age, but I wondered which code would prevail, your code or the code of self-preservation. ”

“ You called me filthy, greasy. I wondered! You were the best educated man I had ever known. You spoke like the books I read from; yet you were not a man. Hanson and Schwartz were men. Civilization baffled me. ”

“ You’re a selfish young pup. You’ve failed as a son; you’re failing as a man. That means I’ve failed as a father. I’d rather have succeeded as a father than as a business man. I can’t learn you nothing; maybe if you rub shoulders with life you’ll learn something. I wanted to make your row easier to hoe than mine was. I made it easy, and that’s my mistake. I tried to get under your skin, but never could make it, so we’ve hated each other at times. That’s bad business for both father and son—to hate. ”