Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWO.

  DESCRIBES A RESCUE AND A HAPPY FAMILY.

  While the Eskimos were thus rushing to his rescue, poor Red Rooney--whose shipmates, we may explain at once, had thus contracted hisChristian name of Reginald--began to recover from his swoon, and towonder in a listless fashion where he was. Feeling comparativelycomfortable in his bear-skin, he did not at first care to press theinquiry; but, as Okiok had anticipated, the peculiar smell near his nosetended to arouse him. Drawing his hand gently up, he touched the objectin front of his mouth. It felt very like blubber, with which substancehe was familiar. Extending his tongue, he found that it also tastedlike blubber. To a starving man this was enough. He pulled the end ofthe raw morsel into his mouth and began to chew.

  Ah, reader, turn not up your refined nose! When you have been forseveral months on short allowance, when you have scraped every shred ofmeat off the very last bones of your provisions, and sucked out the lastdrop of marrow, and then roasted and eaten your spare boots, you mayperhaps be in a position to estimate and enjoy a morsel of raw blubber.

  Regardless of time, place, and circumstance, our poor wanderer continuedto chew until in his great weakness he fell into a sort of half slumber,and dreamed--dreamed of feasting on viands more delightful than thewaking imagination of man has ever conceived.

  From this state of bliss he was rudely awakened by a roughish poke inthe back. The poke was accompanied by a snuffing sound which caused theblood of the poor man to curdle. Could it be a bear?

  He was not left long in doubt. After giving him another poke on theshoulder, the creature walked round him, snuffing as it went, and, onreaching the air-hole already referred to, thrust its snout in andsnorted. Rooney turned his face aside to avoid the blast, but otherwiselay quite still, knowing well that whatever animal his visitor might be,his only hope lay in absolute inaction. Venturing in a few seconds toturn his face round and peep through the opening, he found that theanimal was in very deed a large white bear, which, having found andabstracted the remains of the blubber he had been chewing, was at thatmoment licking its lips after swallowing it. Of course, finding themorsel satisfactory, the bear returned to the hole for more.

  It is easier to conceive than to describe the poor man's feelings atthat moment, therefore we leave the reader to conceive them. Thenatural and desperate tendency to spring up and defend himself had to becombated by the certain knowledge that, encased as he was, he could notspring up, and had nothing wherewith to defend himself except hisfingers, which were no match for the claws of a Polar bear.

  The blood which a moment before had begun apparently to curdle, nowseemed turned into liquid fire; and when the snout again entered andtouched his own, he could contain himself no longer, but gave vent to ayell, which caused the startled bear to draw sharply back in alarm.Probably it had never heard a yell through the medium of its nosebefore, and every one must know how strong is the influence of a newsensation. For some minutes the monster stood in silent contemplationof the mysterious hole. Rooney of course lay perfectly still. Thesuccess of his involuntary explosion encouraged hope.

  What the bear might have done next we cannot tell, for at that moment ashout was heard. It was followed by what seemed a succession of pistolshots and the howling of dogs. It was the arrival of Okiok on the scenewith his sledge and team.

  Never was an arrival more opportune. The bear looked round with adistinct expression of indignation on his countenance. Possibly thevoice of Okiok was familiar to him. It may be that relations or friendsof that bear had mysteriously disappeared after the sounding of thatvoice. Perhaps the animal in whose skin Rooney was encased had been abrother. At all events, the increasing hullabaloo of the approachingEskimo had the effect of intimidating the animal, for it retiredquickly, though with evident sulkiness, from the scene.

  A few seconds more, and Okiok dashed up, leaped from his vehicle, leftthe panting team to the control of Norrak, and ran eagerly to theprostrate figure. Unwrapping the head so as to set it free, the Eskimosaw with intense satisfaction that the Kablunet was still alive. Hecalled at once to Norrak, who fetched from the sledge a platter made ofa seal's shoulder-blade, on which was a mass of cooked food. This hepresented to the starving man, who, with a look of intense gratitude,but with no words, eagerly ate it up. The Eskimo and his son meanwhilestood looking at him with an expression of mingled interest, awe, andsurprise on their round faces.

  When the meal was ended, Red Rooney, heaving a deep sigh ofsatisfaction, said, "Thank God, and thank _you_, my friends!"

  There was reason for the increase of surprise with which this wasreceived by the two natives, for this time the foreigner spoke to themin their own language.

  "Is the Kablunet a messenger from heaven," asked Okiok, with increasedsolemnity, "that he speaks with the tongue of the Innuit?"

  "No, my friend," replied Rooney, with a faint smile; "I bring no messageeither from heaven or anywhere else. I'm only a wrecked seaman. But,after a fashion, you are messengers from heaven to _me_, and the messageyou bring is that I'm not to die just yet. If it had not been for you,my friends, it strikes me I should have been dead by this time. As tomy speaking your lingo, it's no mystery. I've learned it by livin' along time wi' the traders in the south of Greenland, and I suppose I'vegot a sort o' talent that way; d'ye see?"

  Red Rooney delivered these remarks fluently in a curious sort of Eskimolanguage; but we have rendered it into that kind of English which thewrecked seaman was in the habit of using--chiefly because by so doing weshall give the reader a more correct idea of the character of the man.

  "We are very glad to see you," returned Okiok. "We have heard of youfor many moons. We have wished for you very hard. Now you have come,we will treat you well."

  "Are your huts far off?" asked the seaman anxiously.

  "Not far. They are close to the ice-mountain--on the land."

  "Take me to them, then, like a good fellow, for I'm dead-beat, and standmuch in need of rest."

  The poor man was so helpless that he could not walk to the sledge whenthey unrolled him. It seemed as if his power of will and energy hadcollapsed at the very moment of his rescue. Up to that time the fear ofdeath had urged him on, but now, feeling that he was, comparativelyspeaking, safe, he gave way to the languor which had so long oppressedhim, and thus, the impulse of the will being removed, he suddenly becameas helpless as an infant.

  Seeing his condition, the father and son lifted him on the sledge,wrapped him in skins, and drove back to the huts at full speed.

  Nuna was awaiting them outside, with eager eyes and beating heart, forthe discovery of a real live Kablunet was to her an object of as solemnand anxious curiosity as the finding of a veritable living ghost mightbe to a civilised man. But Nuna was not alone. There were two othermembers of the household present, who had been absent when Okiok firstarrived, and whom we will now introduce to the reader.

  One was Nuna's only daughter, an exceedingly pretty girl--according toEskimo notions of female beauty. She was seventeen years of age,black-eyed, healthily-complexioned, round-faced, sweet-expressioned,comfortably stout, and unusually graceful--for an Eskimo. Among herother charms, modesty and good-nature shone conspicuous. She was in allrespects a superior counterpart of her mother, and her name was Nunaga.Nuna was small, Nunaga was smaller. Nuna was comparatively young,Nunaga was necessarily younger. The former was kind, the latter waskinder. The mother was graceful and pretty, the daughter was moregraceful and prettier. Nuna wore her hair gathered on the top of herhead into a high top-knot, Nunaga wore a higher top-knot. In regard tocostume, Nuna wore sealskin boots the whole length of her legs--whichwere not long--and a frock or skirt reaching nearly to her knees, with ashort tail in front and a long tail behind; Nunaga, being similarlyclothed, had a shorter tail in front and a longer tail behind.

  It may be interesting to note here that Eskimos are sometimes namedbecause of qualities possessed, or appearance, or peculiar circumstanc
esconnected with them. The word Nuna signifies "land" in Eskimo. Wecannot tell why this particular lady was named Land, unless it were thatshe was born on the land, and not on the ice; or perhaps because she wasso nice that when any man came into her company he might have thoughtthat he had reached the land of his hopes, and was disposed to settledown there and remain. Certainly many of the Eskimo young men seemed tobe of that mind until Okiok carried her off in triumph. And let us tellyou, reader, that a good and pretty woman is as much esteemed among theEskimos as among ourselves. We do not say that she is better treated;neither do we hint that she is sometimes treated worse.

  The Eskimo word Nunaga signifies "_my_ land," and was bestowed by Okiokon his eldest-born in a flood of tenderness at her birth.

  Apologising for this philological digression, we proceed. Besides Nunaand Nunaga there was a baby boy--a fat, oily, contented boy--without aname at that time, and without a particle of clothing of any sort, hisproper condition of heat being maintained when out of doors chiefly bybeing carried between his mother's dress and her shoulders; also bybeing stuffed to repletion with blubber.

  The whole family cried out vigorously with delight, in various keys,when the team came yelping home with the Kablunet. Even the baby gave ajoyous crow--in Eskimo.

  But the exclamations were changed to pity when the Kablunet was assistedto rise, and staggered feebly towards the hut, even when supported byOkiok and his sons. The sailor was not ignorant of Eskimo ways. Hisresidence in South Greenland had taught him many things. He dropped,therefore, quite naturally--indeed gladly--on his hands and knees oncoming to the mouth of the tunnel, and crept slowly into the hut,followed by the whole family, except Ermigit, who was left to unfastenthe dogs.

  The weather at the time was by no means cold, for spring was rapidlyadvancing; nevertheless, to one who had been so reduced in strength, thewarmth of the Eskimo hut was inexpressibly grateful. With a great sighof relief the rescued man flung himself on the raised part of the flooron which Eskimos are wont to sit and sleep.

  "Thank God, and again I thank _you_, my friends!" he said, repeating thephrase which he had already used, for the sudden change from despair tohope, from all but death to restored life, had filled his heart withgratitude.

  "You are weary?" said Okiok.

  "Ay, ay--very weary; well-nigh to death," he replied.

  "Will the Kablunet sleep?" asked Nuna, pointing to a couch of skinsclose behind the seaman.

  Rooney looked round.

  "Thankee; yes, I will."

  He crept to the couch, and dropped upon it, with his head resting on aneider-down pillow. Like a tired infant, his eyes closed, and he wasasleep almost instantaneously.

  Seeing this, the Eskimos began to move about with care, and to speak inwhispers, though it was needless caution, for in his condition the manwould probably have continued to sleep through the wildest thunderstorm.Even when baby, tumbling headlong off the elevated floor, narrowlymissed spiking himself on a walrus spear, and set up a yell that mighthave startled the stone deaf, the wearied Kablunet did not move. Okiokdid, however. He moved smartly towards the infant, caught him by thethroat, and almost strangled him in a fierce attempt to keep him quiet.

  "Stupid tumbler!" he growled--referring to the child's general andawkward habit of falling--"Can't you shut your mouth?"

  Curious similarity between the thoughts and words of civilised andsavage man in similar circumstances! And it is interesting to note thetruth of what the song says:--

  "We little know what great things from little things may rise."

  From that slight incident the Eskimo child derived his future name of"Tumbler"! We forget what the precise Eskimo term is, but the Englishequivalent will do as well.

  When supper-time arrived that night, Okiok and Nuna consulted as towhether they should waken their guest, or let him lie still--for, fromthe instant he lay down, he had remained without the slightest motion,save the slow, regular heaving of his broad chest.

  "Let him sleep. He is tired," said Okiok.

  "But he must be hungry, and he is weak," said Nuna.

  "He can feed when he wakens," returned the man, admiring his guest as acollector might admire a foreign curiosity which he had just found.

  "Kablunets sleep sounder than Eskimos," remarked the woman.

  "Stupid one! Your head is thick, like the skull of the walrus," saidthe man. "Don't you see that it is because he is worn-out?"

  Eskimos are singularly simple and straightforward in their speech. Theyexpress their opinions with the utmost candour, and without theslightest intention of hurting each other's feelings. Nuna took nooffence at her husband's plain speaking, but continued to gaze with agratified expression at the stranger.

  And sooth to say Reginald Rooney was a pleasant object forcontemplation, as well as a striking contrast to the men with whom Nunahad been hitherto associated. His brow was broad; the nose, which hadbeen compared to the eagle's beak, was in reality a fine aquiline; themouth, although partially concealed by a brown drooping moustache, waswell formed, large, and firm; the beard bushy, and the hair voluminousas well as curly. Altogether, this poor castaway was as fine a specimenof a British tar as one could wish to see, despite his wasted conditionand his un-British garb.

  It was finally decided to leave him undisturbed, and the Eskimo familytook care while supping to eat their food in comparative silence.Usually the evening meal was a noisy, hilarious festival, at which Okiokand Norrak and Ermigit were wont to relate the various incidents of theday's hunt, with more or less of exaggeration, not unmingled with fun,and only a little of that shameless boasting which is too strong acharacteristic of the North American Indian. The women of the householdwere excellent listeners; also splendid laughers, and Tumbler wasunrivalled in the matter of crowing, so that noise as well as feastingwas usually the order of the night. But on this great occasion that wasall changed. The feasting was done in dead silence; and another verystriking peculiarity of the occasion was that, while the six pairs ofjaws kept moving with unflagging pertinacity, the twelve wide-open eyeskept glaring with unwinking intensity at the sleeping man.

  Indeed this unwavering glare continued long after supper was over, foreach member of the family lay down to rest with his or her face towardsthe stranger, and kept up the glare until irresistible Nature closed thelids and thus put out the eyes, like the stars of morning, one by one;perhaps it would be more strictly correct to say two by two.

  Okiok and his wife were the last to succumb. Long after the others wereburied in slumber, these two sat up by the lamp-light, solacingthemselves with little scraps and tit-bits of walrus during theintervals of whispered conversation.

  "What shall we do with him?" asked Okiok, after a brief silence.

  "Keep him," replied Nuna, with decision.

  "But we cannot force him to stay."

  "He cannot travel alone," said Nuna, "and we will not help him to go."

  "We are not the only Innuits in all the land. Others will help him ifwe refuse."

  This was so obvious that the woman could not reply, but gazed for sometime in perplexity at the lamp-smoke. And really there was muchinspiration to be derived from the lamp-smoke, for the wick being a massof moss steeped in an open cup of seal-oil, the smoke of it rose invaried convolutions that afforded almost as much scope for suggestivecontemplation as our familiar coal-fires.

  Suddenly the little woman glanced at her slumbering household, cast ameaning look at her husband, and laughed--silently of course.

  "Has Nuna become a fool that she laughs at nothing?" demanded Okioksimply.

  Instead of replying to the well-meant though impolite question, Nunalaughed again, and looked into the dark corner where the pretty littleround face of Nunaga was dimly visible, with the eyes shut, and thelittle mouth wide-open.

  "We will marry him to Nunaga," she said, suddenly becoming grave.

  "Pooh!" exclaimed Okiok--or some expression equivalent to that--"MarryNunaga to a Kablu
net? Never! Do you not know that Angut wants her?"

  It was evident from the look of surprise with which Nuna received thispiece of information that she was _not_ aware of Angut's aspirations,and it was equally evident from the perplexed expression that followedthat her hastily-conceived little matrimonial speculation had beenknocked on the head.

  After this their thoughts either strayed into other channels, or becametoo deep for utterance, for they conversed no more, but soon joined therest of the family in the realms of oblivion.