Fram The Polar Bear

excerpt XVI. THE END The blizzard howled, tumbling boulders of petty snow, gasping when hitting icy walls and cliffs or moaning and screaming along the white nowhere. You couldn't tell the sky from the earth or the ice from the water. Nature was unleashed and that had been happening for hours and hours and hours. Was there a clear sky anywhere? Was there a warm home anywhere with a hot stove where children could lay their thin hands in order to scorch under the flicker of the burning flames? Were there people anywhere who complained because of too much heat and cooled down by waving their handkerchiefs? The frightening wrath of the blizzard seemed to have swept everything. It seemed to have buried everything. Only the scream of the white hurricane was ruling now, whipping the snow banks from one side to another. The raging storm was passing over islands, over ice banks and puddles. Two men crawled under an ice wall. They thought that they had found shelter but the shelter was a delusion. They had only been slowly buried in snow and they could hardly fight to free their breath. They were trying to stick their heads out but once they did that, the wind would hit them with thin, pungent snow powder, like small pieces of glass, in their eyes, mouths and cheeks. The freezing cold would take them over step by step. "Egon, can you feel your hands?" "I've lost sense of them a long time ago, Otto. I can feel neither my hands, nor my feet." They had to scream so they could hear their voices. And the attempts of shouting now meant a frightful agony for their tired strength. "Clap, Egon! Keep clapping your hands no matter what! Move your fingers. This way the blood won't freeze. If it does that, we're through." The other one moaned. They were both quiet for a while. Again, they could only hear the mad cry of the blizzard, the wind hitting the ice cliff and the glassy snow dust whirling up in the sounds of the storm. "Egon… are you listening Egon? I'm thinking that I have two children waiting for me home. I'll never see them again. Never! Mary will be two. In a week she'll be two years old. She'll forget the word "father"! Are you listening Egon? She'll forget the word "father"…" All covered in snow, Egon is trying to answer but the blizzard shuts his mouth. Then he closes his eyes. Why should he speak? What could he say? He has a little girl as well awaiting him at home. Maybe she's just warming up near the stove. Maybe she's asking "What's dad doing?"… maybe she's taking piano lessons… he has a big girl. She has turned seven. She's going to school. He keeps her picture between the lids of his pocket watch. But what good do these memories do? All is lost! It would probably be better just to wait for death to come because there is no other way out and nobody can help them. Since last week, when the ice bank suddenly cracked under their feet, everything that happened seemed to be on purpose, to prepare them to die. The ice opened like a sign from evil spirits. It swallowed sledges, dogs, guns and bullets, food and sleeping bags. They all disappeared into the green depth of the water. And in the same moment the hood closed back again and they suddenly remained alone, poorly dressed, without guns, on the deserted ice bank. First they looked at each other terrified. Then they measured the distances, the sky and the sun above, and only afterwards did they get back their guts, because they weren't the kind of people who give up easily, without a fight, in front of death. "It's about 48 hours to shore, to our hut!" Otto said. "That's how much it took by walking lightly. If we get a move on right now and if we don't stop, not even for an hour, we don't have any reason to lose our faith. It will just be a story like any other and we'll have lots to tell. Just think of how much Nansen endured and how much he went through without losing hope for even a moment! The sky is clear. I don't think that forty eight hours without food or sleep scare you, Egon… am I right? We've been in tougher situations." They were two old, best friends and at the same time polar bear hunters. For years and years they'd been inseparable in their hunts, and came together to the polar glaciers. They didn't even live in the same town. They would meet in the port only when leaving time arrived. And for five-six moths they would live a life that nobody from home knew about, far from their countries and cities. They would face harsh circumstances, dangers, but also moments of joy and success that only connected them more, like two brothers. Every year a fishing boat would take them to the shore of the island where they hunted and where they built a hut. Every year they found it untouched, waiting for them. There they would have a warm fur shelter, supplies, lamps and books. In the back there would be a storehouse for furs. Nearby, a cage for little polar bears. The ship would leave them at the beginning of the polar day and sail further. On the way back, it would stop there again, to pick them up with all the polar bear, silver and polar fox furs, with the little bear cubs, which they would give over to Zoos and circuses. Rarely would they take a steamer. That only happened if at that time a tourist boat was supposed to leave, like not so long ago, when they brought and left on a deserted island Fram, the bear belonging to Strutsky Circus. But always, when they decided to go back home, there would be a fishing boat waiting, that knew to search for them at the end of the polar fall, when blizzards start to threaten and the ocean gets with ice. This year the hunt was better than ever and the storehouse was packed with furs. In the cage there were three baby bears. They had to wait another two weeks for the return of the ship and the time passed easily. They were making plans for the six moths they had to spend at home, in their warm countries, near their children, telling unbelievable stories. This year they had brought a radio and they would sometimes listen to the voices of faraway civilization. Music and orchestras, choirs and news about holidays and changes of government. The dogs were fat, satiated and joyful. They were Siberian dogs, accustomed to the cold and making the sledge fly over the icy ground. The year was good and the hunt was plentiful. They were both thinking about the shores of warmer climates, where orange trees blossom and fruit grow. They were both missing their homes, their children and their rose gardens. Egon couldn't find his peace, thinking that they both started getting lazy and fat. "What do you say if I would propose for us go to the other end of the island and check it out?" he asked his friend. "There are two weeks left till we get out of here. We do some research and observation, which we later communicate to scientific societies… otherwise we'll just sit here like two old men!" "We'll do as you like," Otto said. Only a few words were always needed for them to get along and understand each other. They put a week's food in front of the baby bear cage. They loaded the sledge with supplies, guns and ammunition, they harnessed the dogs and they were on their way. The road was announcing itself to be a cheerful, good one even from the first hours of the trip! No worries and no problems. At the end of the big island there was a smaller one. There they saw from afar, using the field glass, two bears, walking on the shore. "Those are ours!" Egon said, rubbing his hands with excitement. "Get your furs ready, bears," Otto added, "and wait just a little! We'll send you a bullet to tickle your ears!" They crossed an ice bridge and after that the hunt went smoothly. Two bullets, two bears, two furs loaded in the sledge. And research and observations? They filled a notebook with different remarks and notes. No, they didn't waste time! But on their way back, all of a sudden, the ice slope split, swallowing the sledges, the dogs, the supplies and the ammunition, the guns and the furs which were still warm. It swallowed everything and the crack quickly filled up with a slab of ice, like a trunk lid. They were both tough men, tried and tested by their life full of dangers and surprises. After the first scare, they calculated and reached the conclusion that only forty eight hours were keeping them apart from the hut, so they immediately took the straight and fastest way. "It's good that at least I didn't drop my pipe and matches!" said Egon with a snort of laughter. He lit his pipe and they were both going on cheerful and whistling. They had lost guns, ammunition, food, the research notebook, two beautiful bear furs and the sledges. They only felt sorry for the dogs. They had been loyal companions, obedient, brave, and used to the polar life. Many times they'd been together through rough situations, but the dogs were lost and that made them feel a bit sorrow. Egon stopped whistling. "I especially feel sorry for Sibir!" he said in a low voice. "Remember… he saved me from the claws of that polar bear, two years ago, when I was thrown down to the ground and the bear started biting and tearing my shoulder. I wear the mark to this day… Sibir jumped at his throat and the bear left me alone to end the battle with the dog. I stood up… got the rifle and bang! That was the end of the polar bear. He rolled over and lay down in the snow in all his greatness." But Otto wasn't listening to him anymore. He stopped and was looking at the sky with a bit of uneasiness. A light wind had started blowing from the north and grey clouds could be seen in that direction. "That's a bad sign!" he said. Egon was quiet and they both hurried up but in spite this, the blizzard was faster than them. The snow storm caught them, and in just one hour you couldn't tell the sky from the earth. They couldn't see anything before their eyes. They would trip, fall and get back on two feet, blinded by the icy snow powder. Soon they realized that instead of going further, they kept getting lost, so they found a shelter. Since then the blizzard had never stopped, not even for a bit. Hours and hours passed, punishing them with the same wind whistling in their ears and with the same waves of ice hitting their cheeks. Now they could feel neither their hands, nor their feet, they could not move and the frost was slowly covering them up, scaring them with the overwhelming thought of death that turns the body stiff. For just one moment the blizzard stopped and the wind slowed down. Another blow passed and in a matter of minutes the sky turned blue again, with the sun coming from the west. They were both listening. They both raised their heads… actually they both started raising them. But the muscles were not listening anymore. The two heads fell back at once. It was too late. Famished, worn out by the cold, they couldn't move from their snow shelter. "Her name is Mary… she'll forget the word 'father'!..." Otto started to rave. His glassy eyes were fixed on the clear sky. Egon lay on a slope. His sight was not concentrating on the sky but on the icy stretching of the island swept by snow, at the other end of which he could see their warm hut, with food and the radio that was singing for no one. He was looking and tears would freeze on his face. Right then a creature appeared right in front of his eyes. Probably a creature brought by his insanity. A polar bear, a polar bear getting near. But instead of coming closer like any polar bear, down on his four paws, this one was leaping and doing somersaults, waving and turning around in waltz steps, pressing his heels together and parading. Egon, the hunter, shut his eyes. He knew that undoubtedly now the time of death had come: his eyes were seeing things that couldn't be real. He closed his eyes and waited for death by freezing, which stops the blood from going to the heart and makes the mind go crazy with all sorts of delusions. The tears didn't have time to roll over his cheeks because they would immediately turn to ice. His child… maybe now she was in front of her piano, playing her lesson, with no worries in the world. Maybe she was browsing through their picture album or maybe she was staring at the picture on the wall. She was probably asking, "Mommy is daddy going to bring me the baby polar bear that he promised me when he left?... Tell me mommy. Why are you crying?" Egon felt that he was slowly falling into his death sleep, from which nobody comes back. But a warm mouth, a hot breath touched his cheek. The bear was pushing him, surprised that he was not moving. He was licking his cheek, nostrils and eyes. Afterwards he sat back and waited. He didn't understand why these people were staying inert, silent, without moving their arms, and didn't wake up. Fram couldn't understand. He had recognized their scent from afar. His smell that sometimes betrayed him. He couldn't feel the presence of wild animals clearly, but this time he recognized immediately the smell of human beings. He ran and got there as fast as he could. He received them at his place, with his signs of friendship, with joyous somersaults, jumps and the greeting that they used to like. But now they wouldn't move. He made three steps back and then he greeted: "Come on, you can't fool me!" He recognized the hunter who was lying down and who had accompanied him some time ago to the deserted island. He had given him his freedom and hidden provisions in the pantry inside the rock. He expressed the joy of seeing him again in his own way. With his somersaults and jumps. Egon opened his eyes. He gathered his guts and said: "Otto, this is Fram, Fram... are you listening? It's Fram from the circus Strutsky. The other one was raving: "Her name is Maria!... she will never say the word father again to anyone. She'll forget the word father..." He didn't hear anything. He was looking with empty eyes at the empty sky. It was then that Fram understood, owing to the wisdom that he had gathered from the people. And he didn't wonder for a long time. He wiped the snow away with his paws, piled the two up and lay on top of them to keep them warm, just as the tamer had taught him to play pantomime when he was young, at Strutsky Circus. The men were so out of that world and so drained of power, that they didn't even try to understand what was happening to them. A white bear. A wild bear. Even a bear that had been at the circus once, but had gone wild. What could they expect from him? Many years before they had hunted white bears. The time had come for them to become the victims of the claws of a white bear, as they had no guns and no power. But why hadn't he tried to break their skulls with his teeth, as he would do to the sea lions and seals? What was holding him back? Go on! Let's end this ordeal!... One of them kept driveling: "Her name is Maria... she is getting two years old... she'll never... never say the word 'father' again..." The other one was repeating ceaselessly: "It's Fram... I knew him well... it's Fram with his somersaults. Come on! Make it quick, Fram! Bite us! Put an end to this! Show mercy and get this over with!" Then the voices faded away. From raving they fell into sleep. It was a weird sleep. A hot one. But maybe that's how the sleep of death feels like. That's how they say that death by freezing feels like. The hands freeze, the feet freeze, the clogged blood slows down, and the dying dream about warmth and feel the heat in their cheeks, chest and eyes. Ad that's how their sleep was, too. Their dream was... never ending... When they opened their eyes, a heavy, but hot fur was pushing on their chests. First they tried to move an arm, then a leg. The arms moved. The legs moved. "Egon!" "Otto!" Those were their voices. They could hear and recognize their own voices. Two men, two bear hunters, leaning powerless on a bear's chest. It wasn't death. It was not the big, black sleep, with the dream of those dying by freezing. The fur cover on top of them started to move. It lift itself. A living cover had defrosted them. Fram jumped on his fours and then on two. He greeted with the palm to his temple. The two hunters, awoken from the dead, got up on their feet. They looked at each other and at the bear. "Give me the pipe, Otto! This whole thing makes me believe that I have been dreaming. Only a pipe can show me whether I am dead or alive!" Egon was touching himself in order to see whether he was dead or alive. Nothing was frozen. His hands were moving, his feet as well. What an endless joy to hear your fingers crack. And the circus bear was waiting with his paw at his temple. "It is Fram. I told you that it's Fram!" The hunter jumped on his feet. He was staggering with hunger. He leaned on the ice block and tottered to the white bear. He couldn't tell his whole thoughts, the way they arose in his tired mind. He just kept saying: "What you did, Fram... what you did, Fram..." And with his face buried in the fur of the bear, he started to cry. Otto had got up as well. There were now two men, two bear hunters, leaning powerless on a bear's chest. Fram pushed them gently aside with his paws. He was used to strong and prouder men. And then again, he seemed to understand that there was no time for weeping. Somewhere close there was a cave with his provisions. With game that he had gotten from other bears with his somersaults and jumps. He would earn his lunch and dinner by scaring the other bears off with his deadly leaps. He dragged them there. "What is he doing?" asked Otto. "Well... his signs must mean something. I bet he's inviting us to eat... it wouldn't surprise me at all!" And it didn't surprise them at all. Fram's feast was a modest one. There was only one course. Seal meat. That was on his menu. The hunters were full. They had more strength now. They started to look worried towards the west, where the sun was close to the horizon. The polar twilight was beginning. It was the last week in which some lonely ship might dare to sail over the desert sea. They both felt fear. What if their ship had come? There was no more time to waste. With two frozen chunks of meat on their backs, they headed to the end of the island. "Let's hope we won't meet any white bear! Without guns we won't have a chance." Otto had said that. Egon pointed at Fram, who was walking along them, rocking on his fours like a giant dog: "As long as we have this companion next to us, I don't see any danger! I'm sure he can protect us from his brothers... right?" Fram, hearing his name, stood up on two legs and saluted like a soldier saying "Yes, sir!" Then he continued to walk on his fours along them. He couldn't talk. But he would have wanted to show them that there was a more merciful way of dealing with the bears than that of shooting them down with the bullets of the human weapons. They walked sixty hours instead of forty-eight. They stopped to rest whenever they felt tired. The ship hadn't come. All that they found there was their wooden hut, with warm beds and the radio. The three bear cubs also waited for them in their cages. They were whimpering because they were hungry. Fram walked around the cage a couple of times. He grumbled. He looked at the men, then at the door. Then he pulled the bolt. The cubs didn't dare to get out. Fram pulled them by their necks, one by one. He pushed them with his back leg and encouraged them to keep walking. The two hunters were looking with their hands in their pockets and their pipes in the corner of their mouths. "I bet the bear thinks like a human being!" said Egon. "Look at him. No wonder he can pull a bolt. That's what he learned from the people when he was at the circus... but how come he freed the cubs of his own kind?" "When we tell this story everybody will laugh and think that we are lying. What do you say, Fram? Our friend, Fram!" Fram grumbled. If he could have talked, he would have told another story about an Eskimo child, who was considered a liar even before he became a hunter. He grumbled again. He looked towards the hut where there was that wonderful box that could sing. "He is asking us to turn on the radio!" said Egon and started to laugh. This is the biggest music fan I have ever met in my life!" They got inside the hut and he pushed the button. Harmony from remote countries came to life in the air. With his head on his paws, Fram was listening with his eyes closed. He didn't like the music. All he cared about were the memories that the music brought about. The remote cities that came to life when the warm sun shone, with their many lights, with their streets and gardens. Children giving their cornets with sweets to Fram, so that he would share them with others; their shy hands gently touching his fur. The small snub-nosed boy with his shiny eyes on the evening of a goodbye-show from such a remote city... The ship came in a great hurry. It had set the anchor in the open sea and sent two boats to load the furs of the hunters. Fram was looking and he understood. His eyes were sad. The men were looking at him and understood. "I feel sorry for leaving him here," said Egon. "I feel like leaving a friend behind "But he was made for a life in these surroundings! This is his fate. Just think back when you brought him back here. It was because the Strutsky circus had sent him. He was longing for these surroundings, for his home..." Both hunters went back into the hut to check if they had forgotten anything. When they came back, Fram was gone. They searched for him. They called him. "Too bad. We should have said goodbye to him... did you see how the sailors wondered?" Egon climbed on a cliff and looked around. From up there he could see the two boats close to the shore. "Look!" said the hunter astonished. "You were wondering where Fram was. He is already aboard the ship. He went before us!" And indeed, Fram had got on the boat. He was sitting with the back to the island. Around him, the sailors tried to scare him away. But Fram stood still, like the boat. "Well..." said Otto. "Well," continued Egon, "we'll take him with us! It is his wish. He doesn't say it but he shows it explicitly." Both hunters climbed down the cliff. The paddles were ready to hit the water and pull the boats to the ship in the open. Egon put his hand on the shoulder of the white bear and asked him: "Dear Fram, are you willing to come back to our world forever? Then why don't you say goodbye to these icy places? Bear in mind that I won't bring you back another time!" As if he had understood the questions and as if they had made him think, Fram turned his eyes slowly and looked for a long time at the places that he was leaving behind. Then he turned around and looked in front of him, to the world far from ice and water. "Let's go!" said the oarsmen to each other. "Go ahead! Keep going!"


by Cezar Petrescu (1892-1961)