CHAPTER TWELVE.
COMBINES STORY-TELLING (IN BOTH SENSES) WITH FASTING, FUN, AND MORESERIOUS MATTERS.
The favourite dish having been disposed of, Simek continued his story.
"Well," said he, "after my little torngak had been blown away, I waiteda short time, hoping that he would come back, but he did not; so I gotup, took a spear in my hand, and went off to White-bear Bay, determinedto see if the little spirit had spoken the truth. Sure enough, when Igot to the bay, there was the walrus sitting beside its hole, andlooking about in all directions as if it were expecting me. It was agiant walrus," said Simek, lowering his remarkably deep voice to a sortof thunderous grumble that filled the hearts of his auditors with awe inspite of themselves, "a--most--awful walrus! It was bigger,"--here helooked pointedly at Okiok--"than--than the very _biggest_ walrus I haveever seen! I have not much courage, friends, but I went forward, andthrew my spear at it." (The listeners gasped.) "It missed!" (Theygroaned.) "Then I turned, and, being filled with fear, I ran. Did youever see me run?"
"Yes, yes," from the eager company.
"No, my friends, you never saw me run! Anything you ever saw me do wasmere walking--creeping--standing still, compared with what I did then onthat occasion. You know I run fast?" ("Yes, yes.") "But that bigwalrus ran faster. It overtook me; it overturned me; it _swallowed_me!"
Here Simek paused, as if to observe how many of them swallowed that.And, after all, the appeal to their credulity was not as muchoverstrained as the civilised reader may fancy, for in theirsuperstitious beliefs Eskimos held that there was one point in thetraining of a superior class of angekoks which necessitated theswallowing of the neophyte by a bear and his returning to his friendsalive and well after the operation! Besides, Simek had such an honest,truthful expression of countenance and tone of voice, that he couldalmost make people believe anything he chose to assert. Some there wereamong his hearers who understood the man well, and guessed what wascoming; others there were who, having begun by thinking him in jest, nowgrew serious, under the impression that he was in earnest; but by farthe greater number believed every word he said. All, however, remainedin expectant silence while he gravely went on:--
"My friends, you will not doubt me when I say that it was very hotinside of that walrus. I stripped myself, but was still too hot. ThenI sat down on one of his ribs to think. Suddenly it occurred to me todraw my knife and cut myself out. To my dismay, I found that my knifehad been lost in the struggle when I was swallowed. I was in despair,for you all know, my friends, how impossible it is to cut up a walrus,either from out or inside, without a knife. In my agony I seized themonster's heart, and tried to tear it; but it was too hard-hearted forthat. The effort only made the creature tremble and jump, which I foundinconvenient. I also knew from the curious muffled sound outside thatit was roaring. I sat down again on a rib to consider. If I had been areal angekok, my torngak no doubt would have helped me at that time--buthe did not."
"How could you have a torngak at all if you are not a _real_ angekok?"demanded the wizard, in a tone that savoured of contempt.
"You shall hear. Patience!" returned Simek quietly, and then went on:--
"I had not sat long when I knew by the motions of the beast that he wastravelling over the ice--no doubt making for his water-hole. `If hegets into the sea,' I thought, `it will be the end of me.' I knew, ofcourse, that he could not breathe under water, and that he could holdhis breath so long that before he came up again for fresh air I shouldbe suffocated. My feelings became dreadful. I hope, my friends, thatyou will never be in a situation like it. In my despair I rushed aboutfrom the head to the tail. I must have hurt him dreadfully in doingso--at least I thought so, from the way he jumped about. Once or twiceI was tossed from side to side as if he was rolling over. You know I ama man of tender heart. My wife says that, so it must be true; but myheart was hardened by that time; I cared not. I cared for nothing!
"Suddenly I saw a small sinew, in the form of a loop, close to thecreature's tail. As a last hope, without knowing why, I seized it andtugged. The tail, to my surprise, came slightly inwards. I tuggedagain. It came further in. A new thought came to me suddenly. Thiswas curious, for, you know, that never since I was a little child havemy thoughts been quick, and very seldom new. But somehow the thoughtcame--without the aid of my torngak too! I tugged away at that tailwith all my might. It came further and further in each tug. At last Igot it in as far as the stomach. I was perspiring all over. Suddenly Ifelt a terrific heave. I guessed what that was. The walrus was sick,and was trying to vomit his own tail! It was awful! Each heave broughtme nearer to the mouth. But now the difficulty of moving the mass thatI had managed to get inside had become so great that I felt the thing tobe quite beyond my power, and that I must leave the rest to nature.Still, however, I continued the tugging, in order to keep up thesickness--also to keep me employed, for whenever I paused to recoverbreath I was forced to resume work to prevent my fainting awayaltogether, being so terrified at the mere thought of my situation. Tobe inside a walrus is bad enough, but to be inside of a sick walrus!--myfriends, I cannot describe it.
"Suddenly there was a heave that almost rent the ribs of the creatureapart. Like an arrow from a bow, I was shot out upon the ice, and witha clap like thunder that walrus turned inside out! And then," saidSimek, with glaring solemnity, "I awoke--for it was all a dream!"
There was a gasp and cheer of delight at this, mingled with prolongedlaughter, for now the most obtuse even among the children understoodthat Simek had been indulging in a tale of the imagination, while thosewhose wits were sharper saw and enjoyed the sly hits which had beenlaunched at Ujarak throughout. Indeed the wizard himself condescendedto smile at the conclusion, for the tale being a dream, removed from itthe only objectionable part in his estimation, namely, that any torngak,great or small, would condescend to have intercourse with one who wasnot an angekok.
"Now," cried Okiok, starting up, "bring more meat; we are hungry again."
"Huk! huk!" exclaimed the assenting company.
"And when we are stuffed," continued Okiok, "we will be glad to hearwhat the Kablunet has to tell about his own land."
The approval of this suggestion was so decided and hearty, that RedRooney felt it to be his duty to gratify his hospitable friends to theutmost of his power. Accordingly he prepared himself while they wereengaged with the second edition of supper. The task, however, proved tobe surrounded with difficulties much greater than he had expected.Deeming it not only wise, but polite, to begin with somethingcomplimentary, he said:--
"My friends, the Innuits are a great people. They work hard; they arestrong and brave, and have powerful wills."
As these were facts which every one admitted, and Rooney uttered themwith considerable emphasis and animation; the statement of them wasreceived with nods, and huks, and other marks of approval.
"The Innuits are also hospitable," he continued. "A Kablunet came tothem starving, dying. The Great Spirit who made us all, and withoutwhose permission nothing at all can happen, sent Okiok to help him.Okiok is kind; so is his wife; also his daughter. They took the poorKablunet to their house. They fed--they stuffed--him. Now he isgetting strong, and will soon be able to join in kick-ball, andpull-over, and he may perhaps, before long, teach your great angekokUjarak some things that he does not yet know!"
As this was said with a motion in one eye which strongly resembled awink, the audience burst into mingled applause and laughter. To some,the idea of their wise man being taught anything by a poor benightedKablunet was ridiculous. To others, the hope of seeing the wizard'spride humbled was what is slangily termed "nuts." Ujarak himself tookthe remark in good part, in consequence of the word "great" having beenprefixed to his title.
"But," continued the seaman, with much earnestness, "having said that Iam grateful, I will not say more about the Innuit just now. I will onlytell you, in few words, some things about my own country which willin
terest you. I have been asked if we have big villages. Yes, myfriends, we have very big villages--so big that I fear you will find itdifficult to understand what I say."
"The Innuit have big understandings," said Simek, with a bland smile,describing a great circle with his outspread arms; "do not fear to trythem."
"Well, one village we have," resumed Rooney, "is as broad as from hereto the house of Okiok under the great cliff, and it is equally long."
The "huks" and "hois!" with which this was received proved that, big astheir understandings were, the Eskimos were not prepared to take in sovast an idea.
"Moreover," said the seaman, "because there is not enough of space, thehouses are built on the top of each other--one--two--three--four--evenfive and six--one standing on the other."
As each number was named, the eyes of the assembly opened wider withsurprise, until they could open no further.
"Men, women, and children live in these houses; and if you were tospread them all over the ice here, away as far as you can see in everydirection, you would not be able to see the ice at all for the houses."
"_What_ a liar!" murmured the mother of Arbalik to the mother ofIppegoo.
"Dreadful!" responded the latter.
"Moreover," continued Rooney, "these people can put their words andthoughts down on a substance called paper and send them to each other,so that men and women who may be hundreds of miles away can talk witheach other and understand what they say and think, though they cannothear or see each other, and though their words and thoughts take daysand moons to travel."
The breathless Eskimos glanced at each other, and tried to open theireyes wider, but, having already reached the utmost limit, they failed.Unfortunately at that moment our hero was so tickled by the appearanceof the faces around him, that he smiled. In a moment the eyes collapsedand the mouths opened.
"Ha! ha-a-a!" roared Simek, rubbing his hands; "the Kablunet is tryingto beat my walrus."
"And he has succeeded," cried Angut, who felt it his duty to stand upfor the credit of his guest, though he greatly wished that he had onthis occasion confined himself to sober truth.
A beaming expression forthwith took the place of surprise on every face,as it suddenly dawned upon the company that Ridroonee was to be classedwith the funny dogs whose chief delight it is to recount fairy tales andother exaggerated stories, with a view to make the men shout, the womenlaugh, and the children squeak with amusement.
"Go on," they cried; "tell us more."
Rooney at once perceived his mistake, and the misfortune that hadbefallen him. His character for veracity was shaken. He felt that itwould be better to say no more, to leave what he had said to be regardedas a fairy tale, and to confine himself entirely to simple matters, suchas an Eskimo might credit. He looked at his friend Angut. Angutreturned the look with profound gravity, almost sorrow. Evidently hisfaith in the Kablunet was severely shaken. "I'll try them once more,"thought Rooney. "It won't do to have a vast range of subjects tabooedjust because they won't believe. Come, I'll try again."
Putting on a look of intense earnestness, which was meant to carryirresistible conviction, he continued--
"We have kayaks--oomiaks--in my country, which are big enough to carrythree or four times as many people as you have in this village."
Another roar of laughter greeted this statement.
"Isn't he a good liar?" whispered Arbalik's mother.
"And so grave about it too," replied Kunelik.
Red Rooney stopped.
The mother of Ippegoo, fearing he had divined her thoughts, wasoverwhelmed, and tried to hide her blushing face behind Issek.
"They don't believe me," said the seaman in a low voice to Okiok.
"Of course they don't. You might as well tell us that the world isround, when we _see_ that it is flat!"
Rooney sighed. He felt depressed. The impossibility of his evergetting these people to understand or believe many things was forcedupon him. The undisguised assurance that they looked upon him as thebest liar they had ever met with was unsatisfactory.
"Besides all this, my friends," he cried, with a feeling and air ofreckless gaiety, "we have grand feasts, just as you have, and games too,and dances, and songs--"
"Songs!" shouted Simek, with an excited look; "have you songs? can yousing?"
"Well, after a fashion I can," returned Rooney, with a modest look,"though I don't pretend to be much of a dab at it. Are you fond o'singin'?"
"Fond!" echoed Simek, with a gaze of enthusiasm, "I love it! I love it_nearly_ as much as I love Pussimek; better, far, than I love blubber!Ho! sing to us, Ridroonee."
"With all my heart," said Rooney, starting off with all his lung-power,which was by no means slight.
"Rule Britannia," rendered in good time, with tremendous energy, and allthe additional flourishes possible, nearly drove the audience wild withdelight. They had never heard anything like it before.
"That beats _you_, Okiok," said Simek.
"That is true," replied Okiok humbly.
"What! does _he_ sing?" asked Rooney.
"Yes; he is our maker of songs, and sings a little."
"Then he must sing to me," cried the sailor. "In my land the man whosings last has the right to say who shall sing next. I demand a songfrom Okiok."
As the company approved highly of the demand, and Okiok was quitewilling, there was neither difficulty nor delay. The good-natured manbegan at once, with an air of humorous modesty, if we may say so.
Eskimos, as a rule, are not highly poetical in their sentiments, andtheir versification has not usually the grace of rhyme to render itagreeable, but Okiok was an exception to the rule, in that he couldcompose verses in rhyme, and was much esteemed because of this power.In a tuneful and moderate voice he sang. Of course, being rendered intoEnglish, his song necessarily loses much of its humour, but that, asevery linguist knows, is unavoidable. It was Red Rooney who translatedit, which will account for the slightly Hibernian tone throughout. Ifear also that Rooney must have translated rather freely, but of courseat this late period of the world's history it is impossible to ascertainanything certain on the point. We therefore give the song for what itis worth.
OKIOK'S SONG.
I.
A seal once rowled upon the sea Beneath the shining sun, Said I, "My friend, this very day Your rowlin' days are done." "No, no," said he, "that must not be," (And splashed the snowy foam), "Beneath the wave there wait for me A wife and six at home."
II.
"A lie!" said I, "so you shall die!" I launched my whistling spear; Right up his nose the weapon goes, And out behind his ear. He looked reproachful; then he sank; My heart was very sore, For down, and down, and down he went. I never saw him more.
III.
Then straight from out the sea arose A female seal and six; "O kill us now, and let our blood With that of father's mix. We cannot hunt; we dare not beg; To steal we will not try; There's nothing now that we can do But blubber, burst, and die."
IV.
They seized my kayak by the point, They pulled me o'er the sea, They led me to an island lone, And thus they spoke to me: "Bad man, are there not bachelors Both old and young to spare, Whom you might kill, and eat your fill, For all the world would care?"
V.
"Why stain your weapon with the blood Of one whose very life Was spent in trying to provide For little ones and wife?" They paused and wept, and raised a howl. (The youngest only squealed). It stirred the marrow in my bones, My very conscience reeled.
VI.
I fell at once upon my knees, I begged them to forgive; I said I'd stay and fish for them As long as I should live. "And marry me," the widow cried; "I'd rather not," said I "But that's a point we'd better leave To talk of by and by."
VII.
I dwelt upon that island lone For many a wretched year, Serving that mother seal and six With kayak, line, and spear. And strange to
say, the little ones No bigger ever grew; But, strangest sight of all, they changed From grey to brilliant blue.
VII.
"O set me free! O set me free!" I cried in my despair, For by enchantments unexplained They held and kept me there. "I will. But promise first," she said, "You'll never more transfix The father of a family, With little children six."
IX.
"I promise!" Scarce the words had fled, When, far upon the sea, Careering gaily homeward went My good kayak and me. A mist rolled off my wond'ring eyes, I heard my Nuna scream-- Like Simek with his walrus big, I'd only had a dream!
The reception that this peculiar song met with was compound, thoughenthusiastic. As we have said, Okiok was an original genius among hispeople, who had never before heard the jingle of rhymes until heinvented and introduced them. Besides being struck by the novelty ofhis verses, which greatly charmed them, they seemed to be much impressedwith the wickedness of killing the father of a family; and some of theEskimo widows then present experienced, probably for the first time intheir lives, a touch of sympathy with widowed seals who happened to havelarge families to provide for.
But there was one member of the company whose thoughts and feelings werevery differently affected by the song of this national poet--this EskimoBurns or Byron--namely the wizard Ujarak. In a moment of reckless angerhe had challenged Okiok to combat, and, knowing that they would becalled on to enter the arena and measure, not swords, but intellects, onthe morrow, he felt ill at ease, for he could not hope to come offvictorious. If it had been the ordinary battle of wits in blank verse,he might have had some chance he thought, but with this new and tellingjingle at the end of alternate lines, he knew that he must of a suretyfail. This was extremely galling, because, by the union of smartness,shrewd common sense, and at times judicious silence, he had managed upto that time to maintain his supremacy among his fellows. But on thisunlucky day he had been physically overcome by his rival Angut, and nowthere was the prospect of being intellectually beaten by Okiok.
"Strange!" thought the wizard; "I wonder if it was my intention to runaway with Nunaga that brought this disgrace upon me."
"It was," said a voice very close to him.
The wizard looked round quickly, but no one seemed to be thinking ofhim.
It was the voice of Conscience. Ujarak felt uneasy, and stifled it atonce. Everybody can do that without much difficulty, as the readerknows, though nobody has ever yet succeeded in killing Conscienceoutright. He then set himself to devise some plan for escaping fromthis duel. His imagination was fertile. While the revellers continuedto amuse themselves with food, and song, and story, the wizard took tothinking.
No one thought his conduct strange, or sought to disturb him, forangekoks belong to a privileged class. But think as hard and asprofoundly as he could, no way of escape presented itself until theevening was far advanced, and then, without an appreciable effort ofthought, a door seemed to fly open, and that door was--Ippegoo.
"Yes," thought the wizard; "that will do. Nothing could be better.I'll make him an angekok."
It may be needful to explain here that the creation of an angekok is aserious matter. It involves much ceremonial action on the part of himwho operates, and preparation on the part of him who is operated on.Moreover, it is an important matter. When once it has been decided on,nothing can be allowed to interfere with it. All other things--save theunavoidable and urgent--must give way before it.
He would announce it that very night. He would boldly omit some of thepreliminary ceremonial. The morrow would be a day of preparation. Nextday would be the day of the ceremony of induction. After that it wouldbe necessary for him to accompany the new-made wizard on his firstjourney to the realm of spirits. Thus the singing duel would have to bedelayed. Ultimately he would manage to carry off Nunaga to the land ofthe southern Eskimo; thus he would be able to escape the ordealaltogether, and to laugh at Okiok and his jingling rhymes.
When he stood up and made the announcement, declaring that his torngakhad told him that another angekok must be created, though who that otherone was had not yet been revealed to him, there was a slight feeling ofdisappointment, for Eskimos dearly love a musical combat; but when hepointed out that after the ceremonies were over, the singing duel mightthen come off, the people became reconciled to the delay. Being by thattime exhausted in body and mind, they soon after retired to rest.
Ere long oblivion brooded over the late hilarious crew, who lay downlike bundles of hair in their festal garments, and the northern lightsthrew a flickering radiance over a scene of profound quietude and peace.