reason to believe it must have been equivalent to "Now or never," for
she leaped out of her place of concealment and made for the hills at the
top of her speed. Truth requires us to add that she was not much better
on her legs than were the men, for darkness, haste, and rugged ground
are a trying combination. But there is this to be said for the girl:
being small, she fell lightly; being rotund, she fell softly; being
india-rubbery, she rebounded; and, being young, she took it easily. In
a very short time she felt quite safe from pursuit.
Then she addressed herself diligently to find out the direction of the
Eskimo camp, being filled with desperate anxiety for her old friend
Kannoa. Strong, almost, as a young Greenland fawn, and gifted,
apparently, with some of that animal's power to find its way through the
woods, she was not long of hitting the right direction, and gaining the
coast, along which she ran at her utmost speed.
On arriving--breathless and thoroughly exhausted--she found to her
dismay that Angut, Simek, Rooney, and Okiok had left. The news of her
capture had already been brought in by the women with the oomiak, and
these men, with as many others as could be spared, had started off
instantly to the rescue.
"But they are not long gone," said Nunaga's mother, by way of comforting
her child.
"What matters that?" cried Nunaga in despair; "dear old Kannoa will be
lost, for they know nothing of her danger."
While the poor girl spoke, her brother Ermigit began to prepare himself
hastily for action.
"Fear not, sister," he said; "I will run to the great cliff, for I know
it well. They left me to help to guard the camp, but are there not
enough to guard it without me?"
With these words, the youth caught up a spear, and darted out of the
hut.
Well was it for old Kannoa that night that Ermigit was, when roused, one
of the fleetest runners of his tribe. Down to the shore he sprang--
partly tumbled--and then sped along like the Arctic wind, which, we may
remark, is fully as swift as more southerly breezes. The beach near the
sea was mostly smooth, so that the absence of light was not a serious
drawback. In a remarkably short space of time the lad overtook the
rescue party, not far beyond the spot where the women had been surprised
and Nunaga captured. Great was their satisfaction on hearing of the
girl's safe return.
"It's a pity you didn't arrive half an hour sooner, however," said
Rooney, "for poor Angut has gone off with a party towards the hills, in
a state of wild despair, to carry on the search in that direction. But
you look anxious, boy; what more have you to tell?"
In a few rapidly-spoken words Ermigit told of Kannoa's danger. Instant
action was of course taken. One of the natives, who was well acquainted
with the whole land, and knew the mound where the robbers had halted,
was despatched with a strong party to search in that direction, while
Rooney, Okiok, and the rest set off at a sharp run in the direction of
the great cliff which they soon reached, panting like race-horses.
Scrambling to the top, they found no one there. By that time the short
night of spring had passed, and the faint light of the coming day
enabled them to make an investigation of the ground, which tended to
prove that no one had been there recently.
"We can do nothing now but wait," said Red Rooney, as he sat on a
projecting cliff, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"But we might send some of the young men to look round, and bring us
word if they see any of the robbers," said Simek.
"If we do that," replied Okiok, "they will get wind of us, and clear
off. Then they would kill my great-mother before casting her away."
"That's true, Okiok. We must keep quiet," said Rooney. "Besides, they
are pretty sure to bring her to the cliff, for that is a favourite mode
among you of getting rid of witches."
"But what if they _don't_ come here?" asked Ippegoo.
"Then we must hope that they have slept on the mound," returned Okiok;
"and Angut will be sure to find them, and kill them all in their sleep."
"Too good to hope for," murmured Arbalik.
"We must hide, if we don't want to be seen," suggested Simek.
Feeling the propriety of this suggestion, the whole party went into a
cave which they found close at hand and sat down to wait as patiently as
might be. Rooney was the last to enter. Before doing so he crept on
hands and knees to the extreme edge of the cliff and looked down.
Nothing was visible, however; only a black, unfathomable abyss. But he
could hear the sullen roar of ocean as the waves rushed in and out of
the rocky caverns far below. Drawing back with a shudder, a feeling of
mingled horror, rage, and tender pity oppressed him as he thought of
Kannoa's poor old bones being shattered on the rocks, or swallowed by
the waves at the foot of the cliff, while behind and through Kannoa
there rose up the vision of that grandmother in the old country, whose
image seemed to have acquired a fixed habit of beckoning him to come
home, with a remonstrative shake of the head and a kindly smile.
They had not long to wait. They had been seated about ten minutes in
the cavern when the man who had been left outside to watch came gliding
in on tip-toe, stepping high, and with a blazing look about the eyes.
"They come," he said in a hoarse whisper.
"_Who_ come, you walrus?" whispered Okiok.
"The man with the witch."
On hearing this, Rooney, Okiok, and Simek went to the entrance of the
cave, followed by the rest, who, however, were instructed to keep under
cover till required, if no more than three or four men should arrive.
A few seconds later, and the robber chief appeared on the flat space in
front of them. He was closely followed by a squat comrade and the
fierce man with the bundle on his back. As they passed the cave, the
bundle gave a pitiful wail.
This was enough. With a silent rush, like three bull-dogs, our heroes
shot forth. Rooney, having forgotten his weapon, used his fist instead,
planted his knuckles on the bridge of the leader's nose, and ruined it,
as a bridge, for evermore. The robber went down, turned a complete
back-somersault, regained his feet, and fled. Okiok seized the fierce
man by the throat almost before he was aware of the attack, causing him
to drop his bundle which Rooney was just in time to catch and carry into
the cave. There he set it down tenderly, cut the fastenings of the
skin, and freed the poor old woman's head.
It was a beautiful sight to see the livid hue and gaze of horror change
into a flush of loving benignity when Kannoa observed who it was that
kneeled beside her.
"Poor old woman!" shouted Rooney in her ear. "Are you much hurt?"
"No; not hurt at all; only squeezed too much. But I'm afraid for
Nunaga. I think she got away, but I was bundled, when I last heard her
voice."
"Fear no more, then, for Nunaga is safe," said Rooney; but at that
moment all the men rushed from the cave, and he heard sounds outside
which induced him to follow them and leave the old woman to look after
herself.
On issuing from the cave, he saw that the fierce robber was the only one
captured, and that he was on the point of receiving summary justice, for
Simek and Okiok had hold of his arms, while Arbalik and Ippegoo held his
legs and bore him to the edge of the cliff.
"Now then!" cried Simek.
"Stop, stop!" shouted Rooney.
"_One--two--heave_!" cried Okiok.
And they did heave--vigorously and together, so that the fierce man went
out from their grasp like a huge stone from a Roman catapult. There was
a hideous yell, and, after a brief but suggestive pause, an awful
splash!
They did not wait to ascertain whether that fierce man managed to swim
ashore--but certain it is that no one answering to his description has
attempted to hurl a witch from those cliffs from that day to this.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
CONCLUSION.
Need we enlarge on the despair of Angut being turned into joy on his
return, when he found Nunaga and Kannoa safe and sound? We think not.
A few days thereafter our adventurers arrived at the settlement of the
Kablunets; and these northern Eskimos soon forgot their rough
experiences under the influence of the kind, hospitable reception they
met with from the Moravian Brethren.
The joy of the brethren at welcoming Hans Egede, too, was very great,
for they had heard of his recent expedition, and had begun to fear that
he was lost. Not the less welcome was he that he came accompanied by a
band of Eskimos who seemed not only willing to listen to the Gospel but
more than usually able to understand it. The interest of these devoted
men was specially roused by Angut, whom they at once recognised as of
greatly superior mental power to his companions.
"I cannot help thinking," said Egede, in commenting on his character to
one of the brethren, "that he must be a descendant of those Norse
settlers who inhabited this part of Greenland long, long ago, who, we
think, were massacred by the natives, and the remains of whose buildings
are still to be seen."
"It may be so," returned the brother; "your Viking countrymen were
vastly superior in brain-power to the Eskimos. We are glad and thankful
that our Father has sent Angut to us, for it is not improbable that he
may one day become an evangelist to his brethren in the far north."
But of all those who were assembled at the station at that time, Red
Rooney was the man who rejoiced most, for there he found an English
vessel on the eve of starting for the "old country," the captain of
which was not only willing but glad to get such an able seaman to
strengthen his crew.
"Angut," said Rooney, as they walked one evening by the margin of the
sea, "it grieves me to the heart to leave you; but the best of friends
must part. Even for your sake, much though I love you, I cannot remain
here, now that I have got the chance of returning to my dear wife and
bairns and my native land."
"But we shall meet again," replied Angut earnestly. "Does not your
great Book teach that the Father of all is bringing all people to
Himself in Jesus Christ? In the spirit-land Angut and Nunaga, Okiok,
Nuna, Simek, and all the Innuit friends, when washed in the blood of
Jesus, will again see the face of Ridroonee, and rejoice."
This was the first time that Angut had distinctly declared his faith,
and it afforded matter for profound satisfaction to Rooney, who grasped
and warmly shook his friend's hand.
"Right--right you are, Angut," he said; "I do believe that we shall meet
again in the Fatherland, and that hope takes away much o' the sadness of
parting. But you have not yet told me about the wedding. Have you
arranged it with the Brethren?"
"Yes; it is fixed for the day beyond to-morrow."
"Good; an' the next day we sail--so, my friend, I'll have the
satisfaction of dancing at your wedding before I go."
"I know not as to dancing," said Angut, with a grave smile, "but we are
to have kick-ball, and a feast."
"I'm game for both, or any other sort o' fun you like," returned the
seaman heartily.
While they were speaking they observed a youth running towards them in
great haste, and in a state of violent excitement. A whale, he said,
had stranded itself in a shallow bay not far off, and he was running to
let the people of the settlement know the good news.
The commotion occasioned by this event is indescribable. Every man and
boy who could handle a kayak took to the water with harpoon and lance.
Ippegoo, Arbalik, Okiok, Simek, Norrak, and Ermigit were among them, in
borrowed kayaks, and mad as the maddest with glee. Even Kajo joined
them. He was as drunk as the proverbial fiddler, having obtained rum
from the sailors, and much more solemn than an owl.
While these hastened to the conflict, the women and children who could
run or walk proceeded by land to view the battle.
And it was indeed a grand fight! The unlucky monster had got thoroughly
embayed, and was evidently in a state of consternation, for in its
efforts to regain deep water it rushed hither and thither, thrusting its
blunt snout continually on some shoal, and wriggling off again with
difficulty and enormous splutter. The shouts of men, shrieks of women,
and yells of children co-mingled in stupendous discord.
Simek, the mighty hunter, was first to launch his harpoon. It went deep
and was well aimed. Blood dyed the sea at once, and the efforts of the
whale to escape were redoubled. There was also danger in this attack,
for no one could tell, each time the creature got into water deep enough
to float in, to what point of the shore its next rush would be.
"Look out!" cried Rooney in alarm, for, being close to Arbalik in a
kayak, he saw that the whale was coming straight at them. It ran on a
shoal when close to them, doubled round in terror and whirled its great
tail aloft.
Right over Arbalik's head the fan-like mass quivered for one moment.
The youth did not give it a chance. Over he went and shot down into the
water like an eel, just as the tail came down like a thunder-clap on his
kayak, and reduced it to a jumble of its shattered elements, while
Rooney paddled out of danger. Arbalik swam ashore, and landed just in
time to see the whale rise out of the water, lifting Ippegoo in his
kayak on its shoulders. The electrified youth uttered a shriek of
horror in which the tone of surprise was discernible, slid off, kayak
and all, into the sea--and was none the worse!
By this time some dozens of harpoons had been fixed in the body of the
whale, and the number of bladders attached to them interfered slightly
with its movements, but did not render an approach to it by any means
safer. At last Simek, losing patience, made a bold rush in his kayak,
and drove his lance deep into the huge creature's side. The act was
greeted with a cheer--or something like one,--which was repeated when
Red Rooney followed suit successfully. Okiok and his two sons were not
slow to repeat the process. Other Eskimos rushed in, hovered round, and
acted their part, so that finally the whale was killed and hauled nearly
out of the water by the united exertion of the entire population of the
land.
Then succeeded the distribution of the prize.
Eskimos have peculiar and not unreasonable laws on such matters. If two
hunters strike a seal at the same time, they divide it. The same holds
in regard to wild-fowl or deer. If a dead seal is found with a harpoon
sticking in it, the finder keeps the seal, but restores the harpoon to
the owner. The harpooner of a walrus claims the head and tail, while
any one may take away as much as he can carry of the carcass. But when
a whale is captured, the harpooners have no special advantage. There is
such a superabundance of wealth that all--even spectators--may cut and
come again as often and as long as they please.
When, therefore, the whale whose capture we have described was dead,
hundreds of men and boys mounted at once, knife in hand, on the carcass,
and the scene of blood and confusion that ensued baffles description.
"Won't we stuff to-night!" remarked Kabelaw to her sister, as they went
home bending under a weight of blubber.
"Ay--and to-morrow," replied Sigokow.
"And some days beyond to-morrow," observed old Kannoa, who staggered
after them under a lighter load of the spoil.
But it was not the Eskimos alone who derived benefit from this
unexpected prize. The captain of the English ship also got some barrels
of oil and a large quantity of whalebone to fill up his cargo, and the
bright shawls and real _iron_ knives that were given in exchange soon
graced the shoulders of the native women and the belts of the men.
It was indeed a time of immense jubilation--for every one was gratified
more or less--from the chief of the Moravian Brethren down to Tumbler
and Pussi, who absolutely wallowed in fun and unctuous food, while Angut
and Nunaga were of course supremely happy.
The wedding ceremony, performed by Hans Egede, we need hardly say, was
simple, and the festivities which followed were not complex. The game
at kick-ball which preceded the wedding was admittedly one of the best
that had ever been played at that station, partly, no doubt, because the
captain and crew of the English ship, headed by Red Rooney, took part in
it.
Strange to say, the only man who seemed to be at all cast down on that
occasion was Ippegoo. He was found by his mother in the evening in a
retired spot by the sea, sitting on the rocks with a very disconsolate
countenance.
"My son, what is the matter?"
"Mother, my heart is heavy. I cannot forget Ujarak."
"But he treated you ill, my son."
"Sometimes--not always. Often he was kind--and--and I loved him. I
cannot help it."
"Grieve not, Ippe," rejoined pleasant little Kunelik. "Do we not know
now that we shall meet him again in the great Fatherland?"
The poor youth was comforted. He dried his eyes, and went home with his
mother. Yet he did not cease to mourn for his departed wizard friend.
We will not harrow the reader's feelings by describing the leave-taking
of the Eskimos from their friend the Kablunet. After he was gone those
men of the North remained a considerable time at the settlement,
listening to the missionaries as they revealed the love of God to man in
Jesus Christ.
What resulted from this of course we cannot tell, but of this we are
certain--that their "labour was not in vain in the Lord." When the time
comes for the Creator to reveal His plans to man, surely it will be
found that no word spoken, no cup of water given, by these Danish and
Moravian Christians, shall lose its appropriate reward.
When at last the northern men and their families stood on the sea-shore,
with their kayaks, oomiaks and families ready, Angut stood forth, and,
grasping Hans Egede by the hand, said earnestly--
"Brother, farewell till we meet again. I go now to carry the Good News
to my kindred who dwell where the ice-mountains cover the land and sea."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
But what of the Kablunet? Shall we permit him to slip quietly through
our fingers, and disappear? Nay, verily.
He reached England. He crossed over to Ireland. There, in a
well-remembered cottage-home, he found a blooming "widow," who
discovered to her inexpressible joy that she was still a wife! He found
six children, who had grown so tremendously out of all remembrance that
their faces seemed like a faint but familiar dream, which had to be
dreamed over again a good deal and studied much, before the attainment
by the seaman of a satisfactory state of mind. And, last, he found a
little old woman with wrinkled brow and toothless gums, who looked at
and listened to him with benignant wonder, and whose visage reminded him
powerfully of another little old woman who dwelt in the land of ice and
snow where he used to be known as the Kablunet.
This Kablunet--_alias_ Ridroonee,--now regretfully makes his bow and
exit from our little stage as RED ROONEY, THE LAST OF THE CREW.
THE END.