Kitobni o'qish: «Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew», sahifa 6
“What has happened?” demanded Nuna.
“Mother,” gasped the youth, turning to the natural repository of all his cares and troubles, “he is coming!”
“Who is coming, my son?” asked Kunelik, in a quiet, soothing tone, for the pleasant little woman, unlike most of the others, was not easily thrown into a state of agitation.
“The Kablunet,” cried Ippegoo.
“Where, when, who, how, which, what?” burst simultaneously from the gaping crowd.
But for some minutes the evidently exhausted youth could not answer. He could only glare and pant. By degrees, however, and with much patience, his mother extracted his news from him, piecemeal, to the following effect.
After having sat and gazed in mute surprise at the Kablunet for a considerable time, as already mentioned, and having devoured a good meal at the same time, Ippegoo had been closely questioned by Angut as to the reason of his unexpected visit. He had done his best to conceal matters, with which Angut, he said, had nothing to do; but somehow that wonderfully wise man had seen, as it were, into his brain, and at once became suspicious. Then he looked so fierce, and demanded the truth so sternly, that he, (Ippegoo), had fled in terror from the hut of Okiok, and did not stop till he had reached the top of a hummock, where he paused to recover breath. Looking back, he saw that Angut had already harnessed the dogs to his sledge, and was packing the Kablunet upon it—“All lies,” interrupted Arbalik’s mother, Issek, at this point. “If this is true, how comes it that Ippegoo is here first? No doubt the legs of the simple one are the best part of him, but every one knows that they could not beat the dogs of Angut.”
“Issek is wise,” said Kunelik pleasantly, “almost too wise!—but no doubt the simple one can explain.”
“Speak, my son.”
“Yes, mother, I can explain. You must know that Angut was in such a fierce hurry that he made his whip crack like the splitting of an iceberg, and the dogs gave such a yell and bound that they dashed the sledge against a hummock, and broke some part of it. What part of it I did not stop to see. Only I saw that they had to unload, and the Kablunet helped to mend it. Then I turned and ran. So I am here first.”
There was a huk of approval at this explanation, which was given in a slightly exulting tone, and with a glance of mild defiance at Arbalik’s mother.
But Issek was not a woman to be put down easily by a simpleton. She at once returned to the charge.
“No doubt Ippegoo is right,” she said, with forced calmness, “but he has talked of a message to Okiok. I dare say the wife of Okiok would like to hear what that message is.”
“Huk! That is true,” said Nuna quickly.
“And,” continued Issek, “Ippegoo speaks of the suspicions of Angut. What does he suspect? We would all like to know that.”
“Huk! huk! That is also true,” exclaimed every one.
“My son,” whispered Kunelik, “silence is the only hope of a fool. Speak not at all.”
Ippegoo was so accustomed to render blind and willing obedience to his mother that he instantly brought his teeth together with a snap, and thereafter not one word, good, bad, or indifferent, was to be extracted from the simple one.
From what he had revealed, however, it was evident that a speedy visit from the wonderful foreigner was to be looked for. The little party therefore broke up in much excitement, each member of it going off in bursting importance to spread the news in her particular circle, with exaggerations suitable to her special nature and disposition.
While they are thus engaged, we will return to the object of all their interest.
When Ippegoo fled from Angut, as already told, the latter worthy turned quickly to Rooney, and said—
“There is danger somewhere—I know not where or what; but I must leave you. Ermigit will take good care of Ridroonee till I come again.”
“Nay, if there is danger anywhere I will share it,” returned Rooney, rising and stretching himself; “I am already twice the man I was with all this resting and feeding.”
The Eskimo looked at the sailor doubtfully for a moment; but when action was necessary, he was a man of few words. Merely uttering the word “Come,” he went out and harnessed his dog-team in a few minutes. Then, after wrapping the Kablunet carefully up in furs, he leaped on the fore-part of the sledge, cracked his whip, and went off at full speed.
“What is the danger that threatens, think you?” asked Rooney; “you must have some notion about it.”
“I know not, but I guess,” answered Angut, with a sternness that surprised his companion. “Ippegoo is a poor tool in the hands of a bad man. He comes from Ujarak, and he asks too earnestly for Nunaga. Ujarak is fond of Nunaga.”
Rooney looked pointedly and gravely at Angut. That Eskimo returned the look even more pointedly and with deeper gravity. Then what we may term a grave smile flitted across the features of the Eskimo. A similar smile enlivened the features of the seaman. He spoke no word, but from that moment Rooney knew that Angut was also fond of Nunaga; and he made up his mind to aid him to the utmost of his capacity both in love and war—for sympathy is not confined to races, creeds, or classes, but gloriously permeates the whole human family.
It was at this point that the crash described by Ippegoo occurred. Fortunately no damage was done to the occupants of the sledge, though the vehicle itself had suffered fractures which it took them several hours to repair.
Having finished the repairs, they set off again at greater speed than ever in the direction of the Eskimo village, accompanied by Ermigit and Tumbler, who, not caring to be left behind, had followed on a smaller sledge, and overtaken them.
Chapter Nine.
Shows that the Wise are a Match for the Wicked, and exhibits Tumbler and Pussi in Danger
When Red Rooney and his friend reached the village, and found that most of the men had gone south to hunt, and that Nunaga was living in peace with her mother in her father’s town mansion, their fears were greatly relieved, although Angut was still rendered somewhat anxious by the suspicion that mischief of some sort was brewing. Being resolved if possible to discover and counteract it, he told Rooney that he meant to continue his journey southward, and join the hunters.
“Good. I will rest here till you return,” said the seaman, “for I feel that I’m not strong enough yet for much exertion.”
“But Ridroonee promised to dwell with me,” returned Angut, somewhat anxiously.
“So I did, and so I will, friend, when you come back. At present you tell me your hut is closed because you have no wife—no kinswoman.”
“That is true,” returned the Eskimo; “my mother is dead; my father was killed; I have no brothers, no sisters. But when I am at home old Kannoa cooks for me. She is a good woman, and can make us comfortable.”
“Just so, Angut. I’ll be content to have the old woman for a nurse as long as I need one. Good luck to you; and, I say, keep a sharp look-out on Ujarak. He’s not to be trusted, if I am any judge of men’s faces.”
Angut said no word in reply, but he smiled a grim smile as he turned and went his way.
Being much fatigued with his recent exertions, Red Rooney turned into Okiok’s hut, to the great sorrow of the women and children, who had gathered from all parts of the village to gaze at and admire him.
“He is real—and alive!” remarked Kunelik in a low voice.
“And Nuna is not a liar,” said the mother of Arbalik.
“Yes; he is tall,” said one.
“And broad,” observed another.
“But very thin,” said Pussimek.
“No matter; he can stuff,” said Kabelaw, with a nod to her sister Sigokow, who was remarkably stout, and doubtless understood the virtue of the process.
While this commentary was going on, the object of it was making himself comfortable on a couch of skins which Nuna had spread for him on the raised floor at the upper end of her hut. In a few minutes the wearied man was sound asleep, as was indicated by his nose.
No sooner did Mrs Okiok note the peculiar sound than she went out and said to her assembled friends—“Now you may come in; but—forget not—no word is to be spoken. Use your eyes and bite your tongues. The one who speaks shall be put out.”
Under these conditions the multitude filed into the mansion, where they sat down in rows to gaze their fill in profound silence; and there they sat for more than an hour, rapt in contemplation of the wonderful sight.
“He snorts,” was on the lips of Pussimek, but a warning glance from Nuna checked the sentence in the bud.
“He dreams!” had almost slipped from the lips of Kunelik, but she caught it in time.
Certainly these primitive people availed themselves of the permission to use their eyes; nay, more, they also used their eyebrows—and indeed their entire faces, for, the lips being sealed, they not only drank in Rooney, so to speak, with their eyes, but tried to comment upon him with the same organs.
Finding them very imperfect in this respect, they ventured to use their lips without sound—to speak, as it were, in dumb show—and the contortions of visage thus produced were indescribable.
This state of things was at its height when Rooney chanced to awake. As he lay with his face to the foe, the tableau vivant met his gaze the instant he opened his eyes. Rooney was quick-witted, and had great power of self-command. He reclosed the eyes at once, and then, through the merest chink between the lids, continued to watch the scene. But the wink had been observed. It caused an abrupt stoppage of the pantomime, and an intense glare of expectancy.
This was too much for Rooney. He threw up his arms, and gave way to a violent explosion of loud and hearty laughter.
If a bomb-shell had burst among the spectators, it could scarcely have caused greater consternation. A panic ensued. Incontinently the mother of Ippegoo plunged head first into the tunnel. The mother of Arbalik followed, overtook her friend, tried to pass, and stuck fast. The others, dashing in, sought to force them through, but only rammed them tighter. Seeing that egress was impossible, those in rear crouched against the furthest wall and turned looks of horror on the Kablunet, who they thought had suddenly gone mad. But observing that Nuna and her daughter did not share their alarm, they soon recovered, and when Rooney at last sat up and began to look grave, they evidently felt somewhat ashamed of themselves. Pussimek at last seized the mother of Ippegoo by the legs, and with a strong pull extracted her from the tunnel. Issek, being thus set free, quickly made her exit. The rest followed by degrees, until Rooney was left with Nuna and her daughter.
“Your friends have had a fright,” remarked the sailor.
“They are easily frightened. Are you hungry?”
“Yes; I feel as if I could eat a white bear raw.”
“So I expected,” returned the little woman, with a laugh, as she placed a platter of broiled meat before her guest, who at once set to work.
Let us now return to Ippegoo. Having borrowed a sledge, he had driven off to the appointed place of rendezvous, before the arrival of Rooney and Angut, as fast as the team could take him. Arrived there, he found Ujarak awaiting him.
“You have failed,” said the wizard gravely.
“Yes, because Nunaga had left with her father and mother, and is now in the village. So is the Kablunet.”
Whatever Ujarak might have felt, he took good care that his countenance should not betray him. Indeed this capacity to conceal his feelings under a calm exterior constituted a large element of the power which he had obtained over his fellows. Without deigning a reply of any kind to his humble and humbled follower, he stepped quietly into the sledge, and drove away to the southward, intending to rejoin the hunters.
Arrived at the ground, he set off on foot over the ice until he found a seal’s breathing-hole. Here he arranged his spears, erected a screen of snow-blocks, and sat down to watch.
“Ippegoo,” he said, at last breaking silence, “we must not be beaten.”
“No, that must not be,” replied his pupil firmly.
“This time we have failed,” continued the wizard, “because I did not think that Okiok would leave his guest.”
“I thought,” said Ippegoo, somewhat timidly, “that your torngak told you everything.”
“You are a fool, Ippegoo.”
“I know it, master; but can you not make me more wise by teaching me?”
“Some people are hard to teach,” said Ujarak.
“That is also true,” returned the youth mournfully. “I know that you can never make me an angekok. Perhaps it would be better not to try.”
“No. You are mistaken,” said the wizard in a more cheerful tone, for he felt that he had gone too far. “You will make a good enough angekok in time, if you will only attend to what I say, and be obedient. Come, I will explain to you. Torngaks, you must understand, do not always tell all that they know. Sometimes they leave the angekok dark, for a purpose that is best known to themselves. But they always tell enough for the guidance of a wise man—”
“But—but—I am not a wise man, you know,” Ippegoo ventured to remark.
“True; but when I have made you an angekok then you will become a wise man—don’t you see?”
As the word angekok signifies “wise man,” Ippegoo would have been a fool indeed had he failed to see the truism. The sight raised his spirits, and made him look hopeful.
“Well, then, stupid one, speak not, but listen. As I have before told you, I love Nunaga and Nunaga loves me—”
“I—I thought she loved Angut,” said Ippegoo.
“O idiot,” exclaimed the wizard; “did I not tell you that you cannot understand? The loves of angekoks are not as the loves of ordinary men. Sometimes one’s torngak makes the girl seem uncertain which man she likes best—”
“Ye–yes; but in this case there seems no uncertainty, for she and Angut—”
“Silence! you worse than baby walrus!”
Ippegoo shut his mouth, and humbly drooped his eyelids.
After a few minutes, Ujarak, having swallowed his wrath, continued in a calm tone—
“This time we have failed. Next time we will be sure to succeed, and—”
“I suppose your torngak told—”
“Silence! weak-minded puffin!” thundered the wizard, to the great astonishment of a seal which came up at that moment to breathe, and prudently retired in time to save its life.
Once again the angekok with a mighty effort restrained his wrath, and after a time resumed—
“Now, Ippegoo, we dare not venture again to try till after the feast, for the suspicion which you have roused in Angut by the foolish wagging of your tongue must be allowed to die out. But in the meantime—though you cannot, must not, speak—you can listen, and you can get your mother to listen, and, when you hear anything that you think I ought to know, you will tell me.”
“But if,” said the pupil timidly, “I should only find out things that your torngak has already told you, what—”
He stopped short, for Ujarak, springing up, walked smartly away, leaving his follower behind to finish the question, and gather up the spears.
“Yes; he is right. I am a fool,” murmured Ippegoo. “Yet his conduct does seem strange. But he is an angekok. That must be the reason.”
Consoling himself with this reflection, the puzzled youth, putting the spears and hunting tackle on his shoulders, followed after his irate master towards the bay where the other hunters were encamped.
We turn now to two other actors in our tale, who, although not very important characters, deserve passing notice.
When Nuna’s youngest son, little Tumbler, was brought to the Eskimo village, he made his appearance in the new black dress suit with which Rooney had clothed him—much to the surprise and delight of the whole community. Not long after arriving, he waddled away through the village in search of some piece of amusing mischief to do. On his ramble he fell in with a companion of about his own size, whose costume was that of a woman in miniature—namely, a short coat with a fully developed tail, which trailed on the ground with the approved fashionable swing. This was none other than Pussi, the little daughter of Simek, the great hunter. Now it chanced that there was a mutual liking—a strong bond of sympathy—between Tumbler and Pussi, which induced them always to play together when possible.
No sooner, therefore, did Tumbler catch sight of his friend than he ran after her, grasped her greasy little hand, and waddled away to do, in company with her, what mischief might chance to be possible at the time.
Immediately behind the village there stood a small iceberg, which had grounded there some years before, and was so little reduced in size or shape by the action of each brief summer’s sun that it had become to the people almost as familiar a landmark as the solid rocks. In this berg there was a beautiful sea-green cavern whose depths had never yet been fathomed. It was supposed to be haunted, and was therefore visited only by the more daring and courageous among the children of the tribe. Tumbler and Pussi were unquestionably the most daring among these—partly owing to native bravery in both, and partly to profound ignorance and inexperience of danger.
“Let’s go to ze g’een cave,” suggested Tumbler.
Pussi returned that most familiar of replies—a nod.
We cannot, of course, convey the slightest idea of the infantine Eskimo lisp. As before said, we must be content with the nearest English equivalent.
The green cave was not more than half a mile distant from the village. To reach it the children had to get upon the sea-ice, and this involved crossing what has been termed the ice-foot—namely, that belt of broken up and shattered ice caused by the daily tides—at the point where the grounded ice meets that which is afloat. It is a chaotic belt, varying in character and width according to position and depth of water, and always more or less dangerous to the tender limbs of childhood.
Encountering thus an opportunity for mischievous daring at the very beginning of their ramble, our jovial hero and heroine proceeded to cross, with all the breathless, silent, and awesome delight that surrounds half-suspected wickedness—for they were quite old enough to know that they were on forbidden ground.
“Come, you’s not frighted?” said Tumbler, holding out his hand, as he stood on the top of a block, encouraging his companion to advance.
“No—not fri—frighted—but—”
She caught the extended hand, slipped her little foot, and slid violently downward, dragging the boy along with her.
Scrambling to their feet, Pussi looked inclined to whimper, but as Tumbler laughed heartily, she thought better of it, and joined him.
Few of the riven masses by which they were surrounded were much above five or six feet thick; but as the children were short of stature, the place seemed to the poor creatures an illimitable world of icy confusion, and many were the slips, glissades, and semi-falls which they experienced before reaching the other side. Reach it they did, however, in a very panting and dishevelled condition, and it said much for Red Rooney’s tailoring capacity that the black dress coat was not riven to pieces in the process.
“Look; help me. Shove me here,” said Tumbler, as he laid hold of a block which formed the last difficulty.
Pussi helped and shoved to the best of her small ability, so that Tumbler soon found himself on a ledge which communicated with the sea-ice. Seizing Pussi by her top-knot of hair, he hauled while she scrambled, until he caught a hand, then an arm, then her tail, finally one of her legs, and at last deposited her, flushed and panting, at his side. After a few minutes’ rest they began to run—perhaps it were more correct to say waddle—in the direction of “ze g’een cave.”
Now it chanced that the said cave was haunted at that time, not by torngaks or other ghosts, but by two men, one of whom at least was filled with an evil spirit.
Ujarak, having ascertained that Okiok had joined the hunting party, and that the Kablunet had reached the village, resolved to make a daring attempt to carry off the fair Nunaga from the very midst of her female friends, and for this purpose sought and found his dupe Ippegoo, whom he sent off to the green cave to await his arrival.
“We must not go together,” he said, “for we might be suspected; but you will go off to hunt seals to the south, and I will go out on the floes to consult my torngak.”
“But, master, if I go to the south after seals, how can we ever meet at the green cave?”
“O stupid one! Do you not understand that you are only to pretend to go south? When you are well out of sight, then turn north, and make for the berg. You will find me there.”
Without further remark the stupid one went off, and in process of time the master and pupil met at the appointed rendezvous.
The entrance to the cavern was light, owing to the transparency of the ice, and farther in it assumed that lovely bluish-green colour from which it derived its name; but the profound depths, which had never yet been fathomed, were as black as ebony—forming a splendid background, against which the icicles and crystal edges of the entrance were beautifully and sharply defined.
Retiring sufficiently far within this natural grotto to be safe from observation in the event of any one chancing to pass by, the wizard looked earnestly into the anxious countenance of the young man.
“Ippegoo,” he said, with an air of unwonted solemnity, for, having made up his mind to a desperate venture, the wizard wished to subdue his tool entirely as well as promptly to his will; “Ippegoo, my torngak says the thing must be done to-night, if it is to be done at all. Putting off, he says, will perhaps produce failure.”
“‘Perhaps’!” echoed the youth, with that perplexed look which so frequently crossed his features when the wizard’s words puzzled him. “I thought that torngaks knew everything, and never needed to say ‘perhaps.’”
“You think too much,” said Ujarak testily.
“Was it not yesterday,” returned the pupil humbly, “that you told me to think well before speaking?”
“True, O simple one! but there are times to think and times not to think. Your misfortune is that you always do both at the wrong time, and never do either at the right time.”
“I wish,” returned Ippegoo, with a sigh, “that it were always the time not to think. How much pleasanter it would be!”
“Well, it is time to listen just now,” said the wizard, “so give me your attention. I shall this night harness my dogs, and carry off Nunaga by force. And you must harness your dogs in another sledge, and follow me.”
“But—but—my mother!” murmured the youth.
“Must be left behind,” said the wizard, with tremendous decision and a dark frown; but he had under-estimated his tool, who replied with decision quite equal to his own—
“That must not be.”
Although taken much by surprise, Ujarak managed to dissemble.
“Well, then,” he said, “you must carry her away by force.”
“That is impossible,” returned Ippegoo, with a faint smile and shake of the head.
For the first time in his life the wizard lost all patience with his poor worshipper, and was on the point of giving way to wrath, when the sound of approaching footsteps outside the cave arrested him. Not caring to be interrupted at that moment, and without waiting to see who approached, Ujarak suddenly gave vent to a fearful intermittent yell, which was well understood by all Eskimos to be the laughter of a torngak or fiend, and, therefore, calculated to scare away any one who approached.
In the present instance it did so most effectually, for poor little Pussi and Tumbler were already rather awed by the grandeur and mysterious appearance of the sea-green cave. Turning instantly, they fled—or toddled—on the wings of terror, and with so little regard to personal safety, that Pussi found herself suddenly on the edge of an ice-cliff, without the power to stop. Tumbler, however, had himself more under command. He pulled up in time, and caught hold of his companion by the tail, but she, being already on a steep gradient, dragged her champion on, and it is certain that both would have gone over the ice precipice and been killed, if Tumbler had not got both heels against an opportune lump of ice. Holding on to the tail with heroic resolution, while Pussi was already swinging in mid-air, the poor boy opened wide his eyes and mouth, and gave vent to a series of yells so tremendous that the hearts of Ujarak and Ippegoo leaped into their throats, as they rushed out of the cavern and hastened to the rescue.
But another ear had been assailed by those cries. Just as Ippegoo—who was fleeter than his master—caught Tumbler with one hand, and Pussi’s tail with the other, and lifted both children out of danger, Reginald Rooney, who chanced to be wandering in the vicinity, appeared, in a state of great anxiety, on the scene.
“Glad am I you were in time, Ippegoo,” said the seaman, shouldering the little girl, while the young Eskimo put the boy on his back, “but I thought that you and Ujarak were away south with the hunters. What has brought you back so soon? Nothing wrong, I trust?”
“No; all goes well,” returned Ippegoo, as they went towards the village. “We have only come back to—to—”
“To make preparation for the feast when they return,” said the wizard, coming quickly to the rescue of his unready follower.
“Then they will be back immediately, I suppose?” said Rooney, looking pointedly at the wizard.
“Yes, immediately,” answered Ujarak, without appearing to observe the pointed look, “unless something happens to detain them.”
Suspecting that there was something behind this reply, the sailor said no more. Ujarak, feeling that he was suspected, and that his plan, therefore, must be given up for the time being, determined to set himself to work to allay suspicion by making himself generally useful, and giving himself up entirely to the festivities that were about to take place on the return of the men from their successful hunt.
