Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIX.

  ANGUT AND ROONEY HOLD CONVERSE ON MANY THINGS.

  At first Rooney did not observe that there was a visitor in the hut,but, when his eyes alighted on him, he rose at once, for he felt that hewas in the presence of a man possessed of intelligence vastly superiorto that of the ordinary natives. It was not so much that Angut'spresence was commanding or noble, as that his grave expression, broadforehead, and earnest gaze suggested the idea of a man of profoundthought.

  The angekok who had been so graphically described to him by Okiok atonce recurred to Rooney's mind. Turning to his host, he said, with abland expression--

  "I suppose this is your friend Angut, the angekok?"

  "Yes," replied Okiok.

  While the mysterious foreigner was speaking, Angut gazed at him withlooks and feelings of awe, but when he stepped forward, and frankly heldout his hand, the Eskimo looked puzzled. A whispered word from hishost, however, sufficed to explain. Falling in at once with the idea,he grasped the offered hand, and gave it a squeeze of good-will thatalmost caused the seaman to wince.

  "I am glad to meet you," said Rooney.

  "I am more than glad," exclaimed the Eskimo with enthusiasm; "I have notlanguage to tell of what is in my mind. I have heard of Kablunets,dreamed of them, thought of them. _Now_ my longings are gratified--Ibehold one! I have been told that Kablunets know nearly everything; _I_know next to nothing. We will talk much. It seems to me as if I hadbeen born only to-day. Come; let us begin!"

  "My friend, you expect too much," replied Rooney, with a laugh, as hesat down to devote himself to the bear-steak which Nunaga had placedbefore him. "I am but an average sort of sailor, and can't boast ofvery much education, though I have a smattering; but we have men in mycountry who do seem to know 'most everything--wise men they are. Wecall them philosophers; you call 'em angekoks. Here, won't you go infor a steak or a rib? If you were as hungry as I am, you'd be only tooglad and thankful to have the chance."

  Angut accepted a rib, evidently under the impression that the Kablunetwould think it impolite were he to refuse. He began to eat, however, ina languid manner, being far too deeply engaged with mental food justthen to care for grosser forms of nourishment.

  "Tell me," said the Eskimo, who was impatient to begin his catechising,"do your countrymen all dress like this?" He touched the sealskin coatworn by the sailor.

  "O no," said Rooney, laughing; "I only dress this way because I am inEskimo land, and it is well suited to the country; but the men in myland--Ireland we call it--dress in all sorts of fine cloth, made fromthe hair of small animals--Why, what do you stare at, Angut? Oh, Isee--my knife! I forgot that you are not used to such things, thoughyou have knives--stone ones, at least. This one, you see, is made ofsteel, or iron--the stuff, you know, that the southern Eskimos bringsometimes to barter with you northern men for the horns of the narwhalan' other things."

  "Yes, I have seen iron, but never had any," said Angut, with a littlesigh; "they bring very little of it here. The Innuits of the Southcatch nearly the whole of it on its journey north, and they keep it."

  "Greedy fellows!" said Rooney. "Well, this knife is called aclasp-knife, because it shuts and opens, as you see, and it has threeblades--a big one for cuttin' up your victuals with, as you see medoin'; and two little ones for parin' your nails and pickin' your teeth,an' mendin' pens an' pencils--though of course you don't know what thatmeans. Then here, you see, there are two little things stuck into thehandle. One is called tweezers, an' is of no earthly use that I know ofexcept to pull the hairs out o' your nose, which no man in his sensesever wants to do; and the other thing is, I suppose, for borin' smallholes in things--it's almost as useless. This thing on the back is forpickin' stones out of horses' hoofs--but I forgot you never saw horsesor hoofs! Well, no matter; it's for pickin' things out of things,when--when you want to pick 'em out! But below this is an uncommonuseful thing--a screw--a thing for drawin' corks out of bottles--there,again, I'm forgettin'. You never saw corks or bottles. Happy people--as the people who don't drink spirits would call you--and, to say truth,I think they are right. Indeed, I've been one of them myself ever sinceI came to this region. Give us another steak, Nunaga, my dear--no, nota bear one; I like the walrus better. It's like yourself--tender."

  The fair Nunaga fell into a tremendous giggle at this joke, for althoughour hero's Eskimo was not very perfect, he possessed all an Irishman'scapacity for making his meaning understood, more or less; and truly itwas a sight to behold the varied expressions of face--the childlikesurprise, admiration, curiosity, and something approaching to awe--withwhich those unsophisticated natives received the explanation of thedifferent parts of that clasp-knife!

  "But what did we begin our talk about?" he continued, as he tackled thewalrus. "O yes; it was about our garments. Well, besides usingdifferent kinds of cloths, our coats are of many different shapes: wehave short coats called jackets, and long coats, and coats with tailsbehind--"

  "Do your men wear tails behind?" asked Angut, in surprise.

  "Yes; two tails," replied Rooney, "and two buttons above them."

  "Strange," remarked Angut; "it is only our women who have tails; andthey have only one tail each, with one button in front--not behind--tofasten the end of the tail to when on a journey."

  "Women with tails look very well," remarked Okiok, "especially when theyswing them about in a neat way that I know well but cannot describe.But men with tails must look very funny."

  Here Mrs Okiok ventured to ask how the Kablunet women dressed.

  "Well, it's not easy to describe that to folk who have never seen them,"said the sailor, with a slight grin. "In the first place, they don'twear boots the whole length of their legs like you, Nuna."

  "Surely, then," remarked the hostess, "their legs must be cold?"

  "By no means, for they cover 'em well up with loose flapping garments,extending from the waist all the way down to the feet. Then they don'twear hoods like you, but stick queer things on their heads, of allshapes and sizes--sometimes of no shape at all and very small size--which they cover over with feathers, an' flowers, an' fluttering thingsof all colours, besides lots of other gimcracks."

  How Rooney rendered "gimcracks" into Eskimo we are not prepared to say,but the whole description sent Nunaga and her mother into fits ofgiggling, for those simple-minded creatures of the icy north--unlikesedate Europeans--are easily made to laugh.

  At this point Angut struck in again, for he felt that the conversationwas becoming frivolous.

  "Tell me, Kablunet," he began; but Rooney interrupted him.

  "Don't call me Kablunet. Call me Red Rooney. It will be morefriendly-like, and will remind me of my poor shipmates."

  "Then tell me, Ridroonee," said Angut, "is it true what I have heard,that your countrymen can make marks on flat white stuff, like the thinskin of the duck, which will tell men far away what they are thinkingabout?"

  "Ay, that's true enough," replied the sailor, with an easy smile ofpatronage; "we call it writing."

  A look of grave perplexity rested on the visage of the Eskimo.

  "It's quite easy when you understand it, and know how to do it,"continued Rooney; "nothing easier."

  A humorous look chased away the Eskimo's perplexity as he replied--

  "Everything is easy when you understand it."

  "Ha! you have me there, Angut," laughed the sailor; "you're a 'cutefellow, as the Yankees say. But come, I'll try to show you how easy itis. See here." He pulled a small note-book from his pocket, and drewthereon the picture of a walrus. "Now, you understand that, don't you?"

  "Yes; _we_ draw like that, and understand each other."

  "Well, then, we put down for that w-a-l-r-u-s; and there you have it--walrus; nothing simpler!"

  The perplexed look returned, and Angut said--

  "That is not very easy to understand. Yet I see something--always thesame marks for the same beast; other marks for other beasts?"

/>   "Just so. You've hit it!" exclaimed Rooney, quite pleased with theintelligence of his pupil.

  "But how if it is not a beast?" asked the Eskimo. "How if you cannotsee him at all, yet want to tell of him in--in--what did you say--writing? I want to send marks to my mother to say that I have talkedwith my torngak. How do you mark torngak? I never saw him. No manever saw a torngak. And how do you make marks for cold, for wind, forall our thoughts, and for the light?"

  It was now Red Rooney's turn to look perplexed. He knew that writingwas easy enough to him who understands it, and he felt that there mustbe some method of explaining the matter, but how to go about theexplanation to one so utterly ignorant did not at once occur to him. Wehave seen, however, that Rooney was a resolute man, not to be easilybaffled. After a few moments' thought he said--

  "Look here now, Angut. Your people can count?"

  "Yes; they can go up to twenty. I can go a little further, but most ofthe Innuits get confused in mind beyond twenty, because they have onlyten fingers and ten toes to look at."

  "Well now," continued Rooney, holding up his left hand, with the fingersextended, "that's five."

  Yes, Angut understood that well.

  "Well, then," resumed Rooney, jotting down the figure 5, "there you haveit--five. Any boy at school could tell you what that is."

  The Eskimo pondered deeply and stared. The other Eskimos did the same.

  "But what," asked Okiok, "if a boy should say that it was six, and notfive?"

  "Why, then we'd whack him, and he'd never say that again."

  There was an explosion of laughter at this, for Eskimos are tender andindulgent to their children, and seldom or never whack them.

  It would be tedious to go further into this subject, or to describe theingenious methods by which the seaman sought to break up the fallowground of Angut's eminently receptive mind. Suffice it to say thatRooney made the discovery that the possession of knowledge is one thing,and the power to communicate it another and a very different thing.Angut also came to the conclusion that, ignorant as he had thoughthimself to be, his first talk with the Kablunet had proved him to beimmeasurably more ignorant than he had supposed.

  The sailor marked the depression which was caused by this piece ofknowledge, and set himself good-naturedly to counteract the evil bydisplaying his watch, at sight of which there was a wild exclamation ofsurprise and delight from all except Angut, who, however deep hisfeelings might be, always kept them bridled. The expansion of hisnostrils and glitter of his eyes, however, told their tale, though noexclamation passed his lips.

  Once or twice, when Rooney attempted to explain the use of theinstrument, the inquisitive man was almost irresistibly led to put someleading questions as to the nature of Time; but whenever he observedthis tendency, the sailor, thinking that he had given him quite enoughof philosophy for one evening, adroitly turned him off the scent bydrawing particular attention to some other portion of the timepiece.

  The watch and the knife, to which they reverted later on, kept thelecturer and audience going till late in the evening, by which time oursailor had completely won the hearts of the Eskimos, and they had allbecome again so hungry that Okiok gave a hint to his wife to stir up thelamp and prepare supper. Then, with a sigh of relief, they all allowedtheir strained minds to relax, and the conversation took a more generalturn. It is but fair to add that, as the sailor had won the hearts ofthe natives, so his heart had been effectually enthralled by them. ForAngut, in particular, Rooney felt that powerful attraction which is theresult of similar tastes, mutual sympathies, and diversity of character.Rooney had a strong tendency to explain and teach; Angut a strongertendency to listen and learn. The former was impulsive and hasty; thelatter meditative and patient. Rooney was humorously disposed andjovial, while his Eskimo friend, though by no means devoid of humour,was naturally grave and sedate. Thus their dispositions formed apleasing contrast, and their tastes an agreeable harmony.

  "What did you say was the name of your country?" asked Angut, during abrief pause in the consumption of the meal.

  "England," said Rooney.

  "That was not the name you told me before."

  "True; I suppose I said Ireland before, but the fact is, I can scarcelyclaim it as my own, for you see my father was Irish and my mother wasScotch. I was born in Wales, an' I've lived a good bit o' my life inEngland. So you see I can't claim to be anything in particular."

  As this was utterly incomprehensible to the Eskimo, he resumed his bitof blubber without saying a word. After a brief silence, he looked atthe Kablunet again, and said--

  "Have they houses in your land?"

  "Houses? O yes; plenty of 'em--made of stone."

  "Like the summer-houses of the Innuit, I suppose?" said Angut. "Arethey as big?"

  Rooney laughed at this, and said, Yes; they were much bigger--as big asthe cliffs alongside.

  "Huk!" exclaimed the Eskimos in various tones. Okiok's tone, indeed,was one of doubt; but Angut did not doubt his new friend for a moment,though his credulity was severely tested when the seaman told him thatone of the villages of his countrymen covered a space as big as theycould see--away to the very horizon, and beyond it.

  "But, Angut," said Rooney, growing somewhat weary at last, "you've askedme many questions; will you answer a few now?"

  "I will answer."

  "I have heard it said," began the sailor, "that Angut is a wise man--anangekok--among his people, but that he denies the fact. Why does hedeny it?"

  The Eskimo exchanged solemn glances with his host, then looked round thecircle, and said that some things could not be explained easily. Hewould think first, and afterwards he would talk.

  "That is well said," returned Rooney. "`Think well before you speak' isa saying among my own people."

  He remained silent for a few moments after that, and observed that Okiokmade a signal to his two boys. They rose immediately, and left the hut.

  "Now," said Okiok, "Angut may speak. There are none but safe tongueshere. My boys are good, but their tongues wag too freely."

  "Yes, they wag too freely," echoed Mrs Okiok, with a nod.

  Thus freed from the danger of being misreported, Angut turned to theseaman, and said--

  "I deny that I am an angekok, because angekoks are deceivers. Theydeceive foolish men and women. Some of them are wicked, and onlypeople-deceivers. They do not believe what they teach. Some of themare self-deceivers. They are good enough men, and believe what theyteach, though it is false. These men puzzle me. I cannot understandthem."

  The Eskimo became meditative at this point, as if his mind were runningon the abstract idea of self-delusion. Indeed he said as much. Rooneyadmitted that it _was_ somewhat puzzling.

  "I suppose," resumed the Eskimo, "that Kablunets never deceivethemselves or others; they are too wise. Is it so?"

  "Well, now you put the question," said Rooney, "I rather fear that someof us do, occasionally; an' there's not a few who have a decidedtendency to deceive others. And so that is the reason you won't be anangekok, is it? Well, it does you credit. But what sort o' things dothey believe, in these northern regions, that you can't go in with?Much the same, I fancy, that the southern Eskimos believe?"

  "I know not what the southern Eskimos believe, for I have met themseldom. But our angekoks believe in torngaks, familiar spirits, whichthey say meet and talk with them. There is no torngak. It is a lie."

  "But you believe in one great and good Spirit, don't you?" asked theseaman, with a serious look.

  "Yes; I believe in One," returned the Eskimo in a low voice, "One whomade me, and all things, and who _must_ be good."

  "There are people in my land who deny that there is One, because theynever saw, or felt, or heard Him--so they say they cannot know," saidRooney. Angut looked surprised.

  "They must be fools," he said. "I see a sledge, and I know that someman made it--for who ever heard of a sledge making itself? I see aworld, and I know that the Gr
eat Spirit made it, because a world cannotmake itself. The greatest Spirit must be One, because two greatests areimpossible, and He is good--because good is better than evil, and theGreatest includes the Best."

  The seaman stared, as well he might, while the Eskimo spoke these words,gazing dreamily at the lamp-flame, as if he were communing with his ownspirit rather than with his companion. Evidently Okiok had a glimmeringof what he meant, for he looked pleased as well as solemn.

  It might be tedious to continue the conversation. Leaving themtherefore to their profound discussions, we will turn to another andvery different social group.