Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  THE HAIRY ONES FEAST AND ARE HAPPY.

  Lest the reader should anticipate, from the conclusion of the lastchapter, that we are about to describe a scene of bloodshed andsavagery, we may as well explain in passing that the custom of duelling,as practised among some tribes of the Eskimos, is entirely intellectual,and well worthy of recommendation to those civilised nations which stillcling fondly and foolishly to the rapier and pistol.

  If an Eskimo of the region about which we write thinks himself aggrievedby another, he challenges him to a singing and dancing combat. The ideaof taking their revenge, or "satisfying their honour," by risking theirlives and proving their courage in mortal combat, does not seem to haveoccurred to them--probably because the act would be without significanceamong men whose whole existence is passed in the daily risk of life andlimb and proof of courage.

  Certainly the singing combat has this advantage, that intellect triumphsover mere brute force, and the physically weak may prove to be more thana match for the strong.

  But as this duel was postponed to the following day, for the very goodreason that a hearty supper and night of social enjoyment had first tobe disposed of, we will turn again to the players on the ice-floe.

  "Come, Angut," said Rooney, descending from his throne or presidentialchair, and taking the arm of his host; "I'm getting cold sitting upthere. Let us have a walk together, and explain to me the meaning ofthis challenge."

  They went off in the direction of the sea-green cave, while Simekorganised a game of kick-ball.

  "Okiok tells me," continued Rooney, "that there is to be no fighting orbloodshed in the matter. How is that?"

  Angut expounded, as we have already explained, and then asked--

  "Have they no singing combats in your land?"

  "Well, not exactly; at least not for the purpose of settling quarrels."

  "How, then, are quarrels settled?"

  "By law, sometimes, and often by sword--you would call it spear--andpistol. A pistol is a thing that spouts fire and kills. Nationsoccasionally settle their quarrels in the same way, and call it war."

  Angut looked puzzled--as well he might!

  "When two men quarrel, can killing do any good?" he asked.

  "I fear not," answered the seaman, "for the mere gratification ofrevenge is not good. But they do not always kill. They sometimes onlywound slightly, and then they say that honour is satisfied, and theybecome friends."

  "But--but," said the still puzzled Eskimo, "a wound cannot prove whichquarreller is right. Is it the one who wounds that is thought right?"

  "No."

  "Is it then the wounded one?"

  "O no. It is neither. The fact is, the proving of who is right and whois wrong has nothing to do with the matter. All they want is to provethat they are both very brave. Often, when one is slightly wounded--nomatter which--they say they are satisfied."

  "With what are they satisfied?"

  "That's more than I can tell, Angut. But it is only a class of mencalled _gentlemen_ who settle their quarrels thus. Common fellows likeme are supposed to have no honour worth fighting about!"

  The Eskimo looked at his companion, supposing that he might be jesting,but seeing that he was quite grave and earnest, he rejoined in anundertone--

  "Then my thoughts have been wrong."

  "In what respect, Angut?"

  "It has often come into my mind that the greatest fools in the worldwere to be found among the Innuit; but there must be greater fools inthe lands you tell of."

  As he spoke the sound of child-voices arrested them, and one was heardto utter the name of Nunaga. The two men paused to listen. They wereclose to the entrance to the ice-cave, which was on the side of the bergopposite to the spot where the games were being held, and the voiceswere recognised as those of Pussi and Tumbler. With the indomitableperseverance that was natural to him, the latter had made a secondattempt to lead Pussi to the cave, and had been successful.

  "What is he goin' to do?" asked Pussi, in a voice of alarm.

  "Goin' to run away vid sister Nunaga," replied Tumbler. "I heardIppegoo say dat to his mudder. Ujarak is goin' to take her away, an'nebber, nebber come back no more."

  There was silence after this, silence so dead and prolonged that thelisteners began to wonder. It was suddenly broken. Evidently thehorrified Pussi had been gathering up her utmost energies, for thereburst from the sea-green depths of the cave a roar of dismay sostupendous that Angut and our seaman ran hastily forward, under theimpression that some accident had occurred; but the children weresitting there all safe--Tumbler gazing in surprise at his companion,whose eyes were tight shut and her mouth wide-open.

  The truth is that Pussi loved and was beloved by Nunaga, and the boy'sinformation had told upon her much more powerfully than he had expected.Of course Tumbler was closely questioned by Angut, but beyond the scrapof information he had already given nothing more was to be gathered fromhim. The two friends were therefore obliged to rest content with thelittle they had learned, which was enough to put them on their guard.

  Ere long the sinking of the sun put an end to the games, but not beforethe whole community had kick-balled themselves into a state of utterincapacity for anything but feeding.

  To this process they now devoted themselves heart and soul, by the lightof the cooking-lamps, within the shelter of their huts. The feast wasindeed a grand one. Not only had they superabundance of the disheswhich we have described in a previous chapter, but several others of anature so savoury as to be almost overpowering to the poor man who wasthe honoured guest of the evening. But Red Rooney laid strongconstraint on himself, and stood it bravely.

  There was something grandly picturesque and Rembrandtish in the wholescene, for the smoke of the lamps, combined with the deep shadows of therotund and hairy figures, formed a background out of which the animatedoily faces shone with ruddy and glittering effect.

  At first, of course, little sound was heard save the working of theirjaws; but as nature began to feel more than adequately supplied, softsighs began to be interpolated and murmuring conversation intervened.Then some of the more moderate began to dally with tit-bits, and thebuzz of conversation swelled.

  At this point Rooney took Tumbler on his knee, and began to tempt himwith savoury morsels. It is only just to the child, (who still wore hisraven coat), to say that he yielded readily to persuasion. Rooney alsoamused and somewhat scandalised his friends by insisting on old Kannoasitting beside him.

  "Ho! Ujarak," at last shouted the jovial Simek, who was one of thosegenial, uproarious, loud-laughing spirits, that can keep the fun of asocial assembly going by the mere force and enthusiasm of his animalspirits; "come, tell us about that wonderful bear you had such a fightwith last moon, you remember?"

  "Remember!" exclaimed the wizard, with a pleased look, for there wasnothing he liked better than to be called on to relate his adventures--and it must be added that there was nothing he found easier, for, whenhis genuine adventures were not sufficiently telling, he could withoutdifficulty expand, exaggerate, modify, or even invent, so as to fit themfor the ears of a fastidious company.

  "Remember!" he repeated in a loud voice, which attracted all eyes, andproduced a sudden silence; "of course I remember. The difficulty withme is to forget--and I would that I could forget--for the adventure washo-r-r-r-ible!"

  A low murmur of curiosity, hope, and joyful expectation, amounting towhat we might style applause, broke from the company as the wizard dwelton the last word.

  You see, Eskimos love excitement fully as much as other people, and asthey have no spirituous drinks wherewith to render their festivitiesunnaturally hilarious, they are obliged to have recourse to excitingtales, comic songs, games, and other reasonable modes of creating thatrapid flow of blood, which is sometimes styled the "feast of reason andthe flow of soul." Simek's soul flowed chiefly from his eyes and fromhis smiling lips in the form of hearty laughter and encouragement toothers
--for in truth he was an unselfish man, preferring rather to drawout his friends than to be drawn out by them.

  "Tell us all about it, then, Ujarak," he cried. "Come, we are ready.Our ears are open--yes; they are very _wide_ open!"

  There was a slight titter at this sly reference to the magnitude of thelies that would have to be taken in, but Ujarak's vanity rendered himinvulnerable to such light shafts. After glaring round with impressivesolemnity, so as to deepen the silence and intensify the expectation, hebegan:--

  "It was about the time when the ravens lay their eggs and the smallbirds appear. My torngak had told me to go out on the ice, far over thesea in a certain direction where I should find a great berg with manywhite peaks mounting up to the very sky. There, he said, I should findwhat I was to do. It was blowing hard at the time; also snowing andfreezing. I did not wish to go, but an angekok _must_ go forward andfear nothing when his torngak points the way. Therefore I went."

  "Took no food? no sleigh? no dogs?" asked Okiok in surprise.

  "No. When it is a man's duty to obey, he must not think of smallthings. It is the business of a wise man to do or to die."

  There was such an air of stern grandeur about Ujarak as he gaveutterance to this high-flown sentiment, that a murmur of approval burstfrom his believers, who formed decidedly the greater part of therevellers, and Okiok hid his diminished head in the breast of his coatto conceal his laughter.

  "I had no food with me--only my walrus spear and line," continued thewizard. "Many times I was swept off my feet by the violence of thegale, and once I was carried with such force towards a mass of upheavedice that I expected to be dashed against it and killed, but just as thiswas about to happen the--"

  "Torngak helped--eh?" interrupted Okiok, with a simple look.

  "No; torngaks never help while we are above ground. They only advise,and leave it to the angekok's wisdom and courage to do the rest,"retorted the wizard, who, although roused to wrath by theseinterruptions of Okiok, felt that his character would be damaged if heallowed the slightest appearance of it to escape him.

  "When, as I said, I was about to be hurled against the berg of ice, thewind seemed to bear me up. No doubt it was a long hollow at the foot ofthe ice that sent the wind upwards, but my mind was quick. Instead ofresisting the impulse, I made a bound, and went up into the air and overthe berg. It was a very low one," added the wizard, as a reply to someexclamations of extreme surprise--not unmingled with doubt--from some ofhis audience.

  "After that," continued Ujarak, "the air cleared a little, and I couldsee a short way around me, as I scudded on. Small bergs were on everyside of me. There were many white foxes crouching in the lee of thesefor shelter. Among them I noticed some white bears. Becoming tired ofthus scudding before the wind, I made a dash to one side, to get underthe shelter of a small berg and take rest. Through the driving snow Icould see the figure of a man crouching there before me. I ran to him,and grasped his coat to check my speed. He stood up--oh, _so_ high! Itwas not a man," (the wizard deepened his voice, and slowed here)--"it--was--a--white--bear!"

  Huks and groans burst at this point from the audience, who were coveredwith the perspiration of anxiety, which would have been cold if theplace had not been so warm.

  "I turned and ran," continued the angekok; "the bear followed. We cameto a small hummock of ice. I doubled round it. The bear went past--like one of Arbalik's arrows--sitting on its haunches, and trying tostop itself in vain, for the wind carried it on like an oomiak with thesail spread. When the bear stopped, it turned back, and soon came upwith me, for I had doubled, and was by that time running nearly againstthe wind. Then my courage rose! I resolved to face the monster with mywalrus spear. It was a desperate venture, but it was my duty. Justthen the snow partly ceased, and I could see a berg with sloping sides.`Perhaps I may find a point of vantage there that I have not on the flatice,' I thought, and away I ran for the sloping berg. It was rugged andbroken. Among its masses I managed to dodge the bear till I got to thetop. Here I resolved to stand and meet my foe, but as I stood I sawthat the other side of the berg had been partly melted by the sun. Itwas a clear steep slope from the top to the bottom. The bear wasscrambling up, foaming in its fury, with its eyes glaring like livinglamps, and its red mouth a-gape. Another thought came to me--I havebeen quick of thought from my birth! Just as the bear was rising to theattack, I sat down on the slope, and flew rather than slid to thebottom. It was an awful plunge! I almost shut my eyes in horror--but--but--kept them open. At the bottom there was a curve like a frozenwave. I left the top of this curve and finished the descent in the air.The crash at the end was awful, but I survived it. There was no timefor thought. I looked back. The bear, as I expected, had watched me inamazement, and was preparing to follow--for bears, you know, fearnothing. It sat down at the top of the slope, and stuck its claws wellinto the ice in front of it. I ran back to the foot of the slope tomeet it. Its claws lost hold, and it came down thundering, like a hugeround stone from a mountain side. I stood, and, measuring exactly itsline of descent, stuck the butt of my spear into the ice with the pointsloping upwards. Then I retired to see the end, for I did not dare tostand near to it. It happened as I had wished: the bear came straighton my spear. The point went in at the breast-bone, and came out at thesmall of the back; but the bear was not checked. It went on, taking thespear along with it, and sending out streams of blood like the spouts ofa dying whale. When at last it ceased to roll, it lay stretched outupon the ice--dead!"

  The wizard paused, and looked round. There was a deep-drawn sigh, as ifthe audience had been relieved from a severe strain of attention. Andso they had; and the wizard accepted that involuntary sigh as anevidence of the success of his effort to amuse.

  "How big was that bear?" asked Ippegoo, gazing on his master with a lookof envious admiration.

  "How big?" repeated Ujarak; "oh, as big--far bigger than--than--the--biggest bear I have ever seen."

  "Oh, then it was an _invisible_ bear, was it?" asked Okiok in surprise.

  "How? What do you mean?" demanded the wizard, with an air of what wasmeant for grave contempt.

  "If it was bigger than the _biggest_ bear you have ever seen," repliedOkiok, with a stupid look; "then you could not have seen _it_, because,you know, it could not well be bigger than itself."

  "Huk! that's true," exclaimed one, while others laughed heartily, forEskimos dearly love a little banter.

  "Boh! ba! boo!" exclaimed Simek, after a sudden guffaw; "that's notequal to what _I_ did to the walrus. Did I ever tell it you, friends?--but never mind whether I did or not. I'll tell it to our guest theKablunet now."

  The jovial hunter was moved to this voluntary and abrupt offer of astory by his desire to prevent anything like angry feeling arisingbetween Okiok and the wizard. Of course the company, as well as Rooney,greeted the proposal with pleasure, for although Simek did not oftentell of his own exploits, and made no pretension to be a graphicstory-teller, they all knew that whatever he undertook he did passablywell, while his irrepressible good-humour and hilarity threw a sort ofhalo round all that he said.

  "Well, my friends, it was a terrible business!"

  Simek paused, and looked round on the company with a solemn stare, whichproduced a smothered laugh--in some cases a little shriek of delight--for every one, except the wizard himself, recognised in the look andmanner an imitation of Ujarak.

  "A dreadful business," continued Simek; "but I got over it, as you shallhear. I too have a torngak. You need not laugh, my friends. It istrue. He is only a little one, however--about so high, (holding up histhumb), and he never visits me except at night. One night he came tome, as I was lying on my back, gazing through a hole in the roof at ourdeparted friends dancing in the sky. [See note.] He sat down on thebridge of my nose, and looked at me. I looked at _him_. Then hechanged his position, sat down on my chin, and looked at me over mynose. Then he spoke.

  "`Do you know White-bear Bay?'
he asked.

  "`Know it?' said I--`do I know my own mother?'

  "`What answer is that?' he said in surprise.

  "Then I remembered that torngaks--especially little ones--don'tunderstand jokes, nothing but simple speech; so I laughed.

  "`Don't laugh,' he said, `your breath is strong.' And that was true;besides, I had a bad cold at the time, so I advised him to get off mychin, for if I happened to cough he might fall in and be swallowedbefore I could prevent it.

  "`Tell me,' said he, with a frown, `do you know White-bear Bay?'

  "`Yes!' said I, in a shout that made him stagger.

  "`Go there,' said he, `and you shall see a great walrus, as big as oneof the boats of the women. Kill it.'

  "The cold getting bad at that moment, I gave a tremendous sneeze, whichblew my torngak away--"

  A shriek of delight, especially from the children, interrupted Simek atthis point. Little Tumbler, who still sat on Rooney's knee, was thelast to recover gravity, and little Pussi, who still nestled besideNunaga, nearly rolled on the floor from sympathy.

  Before the story could be resumed, one of the women announced that afavourite dish which had been for some time preparing was ready. Thedesire for that dish proving stronger than the desire for the story, thecompany, including Simek, set to work on it with as much gusto as ifthey had eaten nothing for hours past!

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Note. Such is the Eskimo notion of the Aurora Borealis.