it! Cap and coat all in one! The fit perfect--and what a magnificent
tail!"
At this point Ermigit caught sight of the gaping and glaring Ippegoo in
the passage. With a bound he fell upon him, caught him by the hair, and
dragged him in.
Of course there followed a deal of questioning, which the hapless youth
tried to answer; but the fascination of the Kablunet was too much for
him. He could do nothing but give random replies and stare; seeing
which, Rooney suggested that the best way to revive him would be to give
him something to eat.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
MRS. OKIOK'S LITTLE EVENING PARTY.
In Eskimo land, as in England, power and industry result in the
elevation and enrichment of individuals, though they have not yet
resulted there, as here, in vast accumulations of wealth, or in class
distinctions. The elevating tendency of superior power and practice is
seen in the fact that while some hunters are nearly always pretty well
off--"well-to-do," as we would express it--others are often in a state
of poverty and semi-starvation. A few of them possess two
establishments, and some even go the length of possessing two wives. It
is but just to add, however, that these last are rare. Most Eskimo men
deem one wife quite as much as they can manage to feed.
Our friend Okiok was what we may style one of the aristocracy of the
land. He did not, indeed, derive his position from inheritance, but
from the circumstance of his being a successful hunter, a splendid
canoe-man, and a tremendous fighter.
When it is added that his fights were often single-handed against the
Polar bear, it may be understood that both his activity and courage were
great. He was not an angekok, for, like his friend Angut, he did not
believe in wizards; nevertheless he was very truly an angekok, in the
sense of being an uncommonly wise man, and his countrymen, recognising
the fact, paid him suitable respect.
Okiok possessed a town and a country mansion. That is to say, besides
the solitary residence already mentioned, close to the great glacier, he
owned the largest hut in the Eskimo village. It was indeed quite a
palatial residence, capable of holding several families, and having
several holes in it--or windows--which were glazed, if we may say so,
with the scraped intestines of animals.
It was to this residence that Okiok drove on the afternoon of the day
that he missed Ippegoo's visit.
On finding that most of the men had gone southward to hunt, he resolved
to follow them, for his purpose was to consult about the Kablunet, who
had so recently fallen like a meteor from the sky into their midst.
"But you will stop here, Nuna, with Nunaga, and tell the women all about
the Kablunet, while I go south alone. Make a feast; you have plenty to
give them. Here, help me to carry the things inside."
Okiok had brought quite a sledge-load of provisions with him, for it had
been his intention to give a feast to as many of the community as could
be got inside his hut. The carrying in of the supplies, therefore,
involving as it did creeping on hands and knees through a low tunnel
with each article, was not a trifling duty.
"Now," said he, when at last ready to start, "be sure that you ask the
liars and the stupid ones to the feast, as well as the wise; and make
them sit near you, for if these don't hear all about it from your own
mouth they will be sure to carry away nonsense, and spread it. Don't
give them the chance to invent."
While her husband was rattling away south over the hummocky sea in his
empty sledge, Nuna lighted her lamps, opened her stores, and began to
cook.
"Go now, Nunaga," she said, "and tell the women who are to feed with us
to-night."
"Who shall I invite, mother?" asked pretty little Nunaga, preparing to
set forth on her mission.
"Invite old Kannoa, of course. She is good."
"Yes, mother, and she is also griggy."
We may remark in passing that it is impossible to convey the exact
meaning of the Eskimo word which we have rendered "griggy." Enough to
say, once for all, that in difficult words and phrases we give as nearly
as possible our English equivalents.
"And Kunelik," said Nuna, continuing to enumerate her guests; "I like
the mother of Ippegoo. She is a pleasant little woman."
"But father said we were to ask liars," remarked Nunaga, with a sweet
look.
"I'm coming to them, child," said Mrs Okiok, with a touch of
petulance--the result of a gulp of lamp-smoke; "yes, you may ask
Pussimek also. The wife of Simek is always full of wise talk, and her
baby does not squall, which is lucky, for she cannot be forced to leave
Pussi behind."
"But name the liars and stupid ones, mother," urged Nunaga, who, being a
dutiful child, and anxious to carry out her father's wishes to the
letter, stuck to her point.
"Tell Issek, then, the mother of Arbalik, to come," returned Nuna,
making a wry face. "If she is not stupid, she is wicked enough, and
dreadful at lies. And the sisters Kabelaw and Sigokow; they are the
worst liars in all the village, besides being stupider than puffins.
There, that will be enough for our first feed. When these have stuffed,
we can have more. Too many at once makes much cooking and little talk.
Go, my child."
An hour later, and the gossips of the Eskimo village were assembled
round Mrs Okiok's hospitable lamp--she had no "board,"--the raised
floor at the further end of the hut serving both for seat and table in
the daytime and for bed at night. Of course they were all bursting with
curiosity, and eager to talk.
But food at first claimed too much attention to permit of free
conversation. Yet it must not be supposed that the company was
gluttonous or greedy. Whatever Eskimos may feel at a feast, it is a
point of etiquette that guests should not appear anxious about what is
set before them. Indeed, they require a little pressing on the part of
the host at first, but they always contrive to make amends for such
self-restraint before the feast is over.
And it was by no means a simple feast to which that party sat down.
There were dried herrings and dried seal's flesh, and the same boiled;
also boiled auks, dried salmon, dried reindeer venison, and a
much-esteemed dish consisting of half raw and slightly putrid seal's
flesh, called _mikiak_--something similar in these respects to our own
game. But the principal dish was part of a whale's tail in a high or
gamey condition. Besides these delicacies, there was a pudding, or
dessert, of preserved crowberries, mixed with "chyle" from the maw of
the reindeer, with train oil for sauce.
[See note.]
Gradually, as appetite was satisfied, tongues were loosened, and
information about the wonderful foreigner, which had been fragmentary at
first, flowed in a copious stream. Then commentary and question began
in right earnest.
"Have some more mikiak?" said Mrs Okiok to Pussimek.
"No," replied Mrs P, with a sigh.
These northern Eskimos did not, at least at the time of which we write,
say "thank you"--not that there was any want of good feeling or civility
among them, but simply because it was not customary to do so.
Mrs Okiok then offered some more of the delicacy mentioned to the
mother of Ippegoo.
"No," said Kunelik, leaning back with a contented air against the wall;
"I am pleasantly stuffed already."
"But tell me," cried Issek, the stern mother of Arbalik, "what does the
Kablunet say the people eat in his own land?"
"They eat no whales," said Nuna; "they _have_ no whales."
"No whales!" exclaimed Pussimek, with a `huk' of surprise!
"No; no whales," said Nuna--"and no bears," she added impressively.
"Ridroonee, (that's his name), says they eat a thing called bread, which
grows out of the ground like grass."
"Eat grass!" exclaimed the mother of Arbalik.
"So he says, and also beasts that have horns--"
"Reindeer?" suggested Kunelik.
"No; the horns are short, with only one point to each; and the beasts
are much heavier than reindeer. They have also great beasts, with no
name in our language--hurses or hosses he calls them,--but they don't
eat these; they make them haul sledges on little round things called
weels--"
"_I_ know," cried Sigokow; "they must be big dogs!"
"Huk!" exclaimed old Kannoa, who confined her observations chiefly to
that monosyllable and a quiet chuckle.
"No," returned Nuna, becoming a little impatient under these frequent
interruptions; "they are not dogs at all, but hurses--hosses--with hard
feet like stones, and iron boots on them."
A general exclamation of incredulous surprise broke forth at this point,
and the mother of Arbalik silently came to the conclusion that Nuna had
at last joined the liars of the community, and was making the most of
her opportunities, and coming out strong.
"Let there be no talk, and I will speak," said Nuna somewhat
indignantly; "if you interrupt me again, I will send you all away to
your huts!"
This threat produced silence, and a sniff from Arbalik's mother. Mrs
Okiok went on:--
"The land, Ridroonee says, is very rich. They have all that they wish--
and _more_!" ("Huk!" from the company)--"except a great many people,
called poo-oor, who have not all that they wish--and who sometimes want
a little more." (A groan of remonstrative pity from the audience.) "But
they have not many seals, and they _never_ eat them."
"Poo! I would not care to live there," said Pussimek.
"And no walruses at all," added Mrs Okiok.
"Boo! a miserable country!" exclaimed Ippegoo's mother.
"Then they have villages--so big!--oh!" Nuna paused from incapacity to
describe, for Eskimos, being unable to comprehend large numbers, are
often obliged to have recourse to illustration. "Listen," continued
Nuna, holding up a finger; "if all the whales we catch in a year were to
be cooked, they would not feed the people of their largest village for
_one_ day!"
The mother of Arbalik now felt that she had sufficient ground for the
belief that Mrs Okiok was utterly demoralised and lost, in the matter
of veracity. Mrs Okiok, looking at her, perceived this in her
countenance, and dropped that subject with a soft smile of conscious
innocence.
Thereupon curiosity broke forth again with redoubled violence.
"But what is the Kablunet like?" cried Kabelaw, as eagerly as if it were
the first time of asking.
"I have told you six times," replied Nuna.
"Tell her again," cried the mother of Arbalik, with a sniff; "she's so
used to lies that she finds it hard to take in _the truth_."
There was a sort of double hit intended here, which immensely tickled
the Eskimos, who laughed heartily, for they are fond of a touch of
sarcastic humour.
"Yes, tell her again," they cried unanimously--"for," added Pussimek,
"we're not tired of it yet. Are we, Pussi?"
The query was addressed to her stark naked baby, which broke from a
tremendous stare into a benignant laugh, that had the effect of shutting
up its eyes at the same time that it opened its little mouth.
It must be remarked here that although we have called Pussi a baby, she
was not exactly an infant. She could walk, and understand, and even
talk. She did not, however, (desirable child!) use her tongue freely.
In fact, Eskimo children seldom do so in the company of their elders.
They are prone to listen, and gaze, and swallow, (mentally), and to
reply only when questioned. But they seem to consider themselves free
to laugh at will--hence Pussi's explosion.
"Well, then," continued Mrs Okiok good-naturedly, "I will tell you
again. The Kablunet is a fine man. He must be very much finer when he
is fat, for he is broad and tall, and looks strong; but he is thin just
now--oh, so thin!--as thin almost as Ippegoo!"
Ippegoo's mother took this in good part, as, indeed, it was intended.
"But that will soon mend with stuffing," continued Nuna. "And his hair
is brown--not black--and is in little rings; and there is nearly as much
below his nose as above it, so that his mouth can only be seen when
open. He carries needles and soft sinews, too, in his bag; but his
needles are not fish-bones--they are iron; and the sinews are not like
our sinews. They are--I know not what! He has a round thing also, made
of white iron, in his pocket, and it is alive. He says, `No, it is a
dead thing,' but he lies, for one day when he was out I heard it
speaking to itself in a low soft little voice, but I was afraid to touch
it for fear it should bite."
("Lies again!" muttered Issek, the mother of Arbalik, to herself.)
"He says that it tells him about time," continued Nuna; "but how can it
tell him about anything if it is dead? Alive and dead at the same
time!"
"Impossible!" cried Pussimek.
"Ridiculous!" cried every one else.
"Huk!" ejaculated old Kannoa, wrinkling up her mild face and exposing
her toothless gums in a stupendous chuckle.
"Yes, impossible! But I think he does not tell many lies," said Nuna
apologetically. "I think he only does it a little. Then he goes on his
knees every night before lying down, and every morning when he rises,
and speaks to himself."
"Why?" cried every one in blazing astonishment.
"I know not," replied Nuna, "and he does not tell."
"He must be a fool," suggested Kunelik.
"I suppose so," returned Nuna, "yet he does not look like a fool."
At this point the description of Rooney's person and characteristics was
interrupted by a tremendous splash. It was poor Pussi, who, having
grown wearied of the conversation, had slipped from her mother's side,
and while wandering in the background had tumbled into the oil-tub, from
which she quickly emerged gasping, gazing, and glittering.
A mild remonstrance, with a good wipe down, soon put her to rights, and
Nuna was about to resume her discourse, when the sound of rushing
footsteps outside arrested her. Next moment a wild scrambling was heard
in the tunnel--as of a giant rat in a hurry--and Ippegoo tumbled into
the hut in a state of wild excitement, which irresistibly affected the
women.
"What has happened?" demanded Nuna.
"Mother," gasped the youth, turning to the natural repository of all his
cares and troubles, "he is coming!"
"Who is coming, my son?" asked Kunelik, in a quiet, soothing tone, for
the pleasant little woman, unlike most of the others, was not easily
thrown into a state of agitation.
"The Kablunet," cried Ippegoo.
"Where, when, who, how, which, what?" burst simultaneously from the
gaping crowd.
But for some minutes the evidently exhausted youth could not answer. He
could only glare and pant. By degrees, however, and with much patience,
his mother extracted his news from him, piecemeal, to the following
effect.
After having sat and gazed in mute surprise at the Kablunet for a
considerable time, as already mentioned, and having devoured a good meal
at the same time, Ippegoo had been closely questioned by Angut as to the
reason of his unexpected visit. He had done his best to conceal
matters, with which Angut, he said, had nothing to do; but somehow that
wonderfully wise man had seen, as it were, into his brain, and at once
became suspicious. Then he looked so fierce, and demanded the truth so
sternly, that he, (Ippegoo), had fled in terror from the hut of Okiok,
and did not stop till he had reached the top of a hummock, where he
paused to recover breath. Looking back, he saw that Angut had already
harnessed the dogs to his sledge, and was packing the Kablunet upon
it--"All lies," interrupted Arbalik's mother, Issek, at this point. "If
this is true, how comes it that Ippegoo is here first? No doubt the
legs of the simple one are the best part of him, but every one knows
that they could not beat the dogs of Angut."
"Issek is wise," said Kunelik pleasantly, "almost _too_ wise!--but no
doubt the simple one can explain."
"Speak, my son."
"Yes, mother, I can explain. You must know that Angut was in such a
fierce hurry that he made his whip crack like the splitting of an
iceberg, and the dogs gave such a yell and bound that they dashed the
sledge against a hummock, and broke some part of it. What part of it I
did not stop to see. Only I saw that they had to unload, and the
Kablunet helped to mend it. Then I turned and ran. So I am here
first."
There was a huk of approval at this explanation, which was given in a
slightly exulting tone, and with a glance of mild defiance at Arbalik's
mother.
But Issek was not a woman to be put down easily by a simpleton. She at
once returned to the charge.
"No doubt Ippegoo is right," she said, with forced calmness, "but he has
talked of a message to Okiok. I dare say the wife of Okiok would like
to hear what that message is."
"Huk! That is true," said Nuna quickly.
"And," continued Issek, "Ippegoo speaks of the suspicions of Angut.
What does he suspect? We would all like to know that."
"Huk! huk! That is also true," exclaimed every one.
"My son," whispered Kunelik, "silence is the only hope of a fool. Speak
not at all."
Ippegoo was so accustomed to render blind and willing obedience to his
mother that he instantly brought his teeth together with a snap, and
thereafter not one word, good, bad, or indifferent, was to be extracted
from the simple one.
From what he had revealed, however, it was evident that a speedy visit
from the wonderful foreigner was to be looked for. The little party
therefore broke up in much excitement, each member of it going off in
bursting importance to spread the news in her particular circle, with
exaggerations suitable to her special nature and disposition.
While they are thus engaged, we will return to the object of all their
interest.
When Ippegoo fled from Angut, as already told, the latter worthy turned
quickly to Rooney, and said--
"There is danger somewhere--I know not where or what; but I must leave
you. Ermigit will take good care of Ridroonee till I come again."
"Nay, if there is danger anywhere I will share it," returned Rooney,
rising and stretching himself; "I am already twice the man I was with
all this resting and feeding."
The Eskimo looked at the sailor doubtfully for a moment; but when action
was necessary, he was a man of few words. Merely uttering the word
"Come," he went out and harnessed his dog-team in a few minutes. Then,
after wrapping the Kablunet carefully up in furs, he leaped on the
fore-part of the sledge, cracked his whip, and went off at full speed.
"What is the danger that threatens, think you?" asked Rooney; "you must
have some notion about it."
"I know not, but I guess," answered Angut, with a sternness that
surprised his companion. "Ippegoo is a poor tool in the hands of a bad
man. He comes from Ujarak, and he asks too earnestly for Nunaga.
Ujarak is fond of Nunaga."
Rooney looked pointedly and gravely at Angut. That Eskimo returned the
look even more pointedly and with deeper gravity. Then what we may term
a grave smile flitted across the features of the Eskimo. A similar
smile enlivened the features of the seaman. He spoke no word, but from
that moment Rooney knew that Angut was also fond of Nunaga; and he made
up his mind to aid him to the utmost of his capacity both in love and
war--for sympathy is not confined to races, creeds, or classes, but
gloriously permeates the whole human family.
It was at this point that the crash described by Ippegoo occurred.
Fortunately no damage was done to the occupants of the sledge, though
the vehicle itself had suffered fractures which it took them several
hours to repair.
Having finished the repairs, they set off again at greater speed than
ever in the direction of the Eskimo village, accompanied by Ermigit and
Tumbler, who, not caring to be left behind, had followed on a smaller
sledge, and overtaken them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: For further light on this interesting subject see _History of
Greenland and the Moravian Brethren_, volume one, page 159. Longman,
1820.
CHAPTER NINE.
SHOWS THAT THE WISE ARE A MATCH FOR THE WICKED, AND EXHIBITS TUMBLER AND
PUSSI IN DANGER.
When Red Rooney and his friend reached the village, and found that most
of the men had gone south to hunt, and that Nunaga was living in peace
with her mother in her father's town mansion, their fears were greatly
relieved, although Angut was still rendered somewhat anxious by the
suspicion that mischief of some sort was brewing. Being resolved if
possible to discover and counteract it, he told Rooney that he meant to
continue his journey southward, and join the hunters.
"Good. I will rest here till you return," said the seaman, "for I feel
that I'm not strong enough yet for much exertion."
"But Ridroonee promised to dwell with _me_," returned Angut, somewhat
anxiously.
"So I did, and so I will, friend, when you come back. At present you
tell me your hut is closed because you have no wife--no kinswoman."
"That is true," returned the Eskimo; "my mother is dead; my father was
killed; I have no brothers, no sisters. But when I am at home old
Kannoa cooks for me. She is a good woman, and can make us comfortable."
"Just so, Angut. I'll be content to have the old woman for a nurse as
long as I need one. Good luck to you; and, I say, keep a sharp look-out
on Ujarak. He's not to be trusted, if I am any judge of men's faces."
Angut said no word in reply, but he smiled a grim smile as he turned and
went his way.
Being much fatigued with his recent exertions, Red Rooney turned into
Okiok's hut, to the great sorrow of the women and children, who had
gathered from all parts of the village to gaze at and admire him.
"He is real--and alive!" remarked Kunelik in a low voice.
"And Nuna is _not_ a liar," said the mother of Arbalik.
"Yes; he is tall," said one.
"And broad," observed another.
"But _very_ thin," said Pussimek.
"No matter; he can stuff," said Kabelaw, with a nod to her sister
Sigokow, who was remarkably stout, and doubtless understood the virtue
of the process.
While this commentary was going on, the object of it was making himself
comfortable on a couch of skins which Nuna had spread for him on the
raised floor at the upper end of her hut. In a few minutes the wearied
man was sound asleep, as was indicated by his nose.
No sooner did Mrs Okiok note the peculiar sound than she went out and
said to her assembled friends--"_Now_ you may come in; but--forget not--
no word is to be spoken. Use your eyes and bite your tongues. The one
who speaks shall be put out."
Under these conditions the multitude filed into the mansion, where they
sat down in rows to gaze their fill in profound silence; and there they
sat for more than an hour, rapt in contemplation of the wonderful sight.
"He snorts," was on the lips of Pussimek, but a warning glance from Nuna
checked the sentence in the bud.
"He dreams!" had almost slipped from the lips of Kunelik, but she caught
it in time.
Certainly these primitive people availed themselves of the permission to
use their eyes; nay, more, they also used their eyebrows--and indeed
their entire faces, for, the lips being sealed, they not only drank in
Rooney, so to speak, with their eyes, but tried to comment upon him with
the same organs.
Finding them very imperfect in this respect, they ventured to use their
lips without sound--to speak, as it were, in dumb show--and the
contortions of visage thus produced were indescribable.
This state of things was at its height when Rooney chanced to awake. As
he lay with his face to the foe, the _tableau vivant_ met his gaze the
instant he opened his eyes. Rooney was quick-witted, and had great
power of self-command. He reclosed the eyes at once, and then, through
the merest chink between the lids, continued to watch the scene. But
the wink had been observed. It caused an abrupt stoppage of the
pantomime, and an intense glare of expectancy.
This was too much for Rooney. He threw up his arms, and gave way to a
violent explosion of loud and hearty laughter.