Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew Part 18

There was a gasp of excitement, almost of regret, among the onlookers, for Angut was a decided favourite.

But the pull was not quite powerful enough. Angut began to sink back to his old position. He seemed to feel that now or never was his chance.

Taking advantage of his descending weight, he added to it a wrench which seemed to sink his ten fingers into the flesh of Ujarak's shoulders; a momentary check threw the latter off his guard, and next instant Angut not only pulled him over, but hurled him over his own head, and rolled him like a porpoise on the snow!

A mighty shout hailed the victory as the wizard arose and retired crestfallen from the scene, while the victor gravely resumed his coat and mingled with the crowd.

Ujarak chanced, in retiring, to pa.s.s close to Okiok. Although naturally amiable, that worthy, feeling certain that the wizard was playing a double part, and was actuated by sinister motives in some of his recent proceedings, could not resist the temptation to whisper--

"Was your torngak asleep, that he failed to help you just now?"

The whisper was overheard by some of the women near, who could not suppress a subdued laugh.

The wizard, who was not at that moment in a condition to take a jest with equanimity, turned a fierce look upon Okiok.

"I challenge you," he said, "to a singing combat."

"With all my heart," replied Okiok; "when shall it be?"

"To-morrow," said the wizard sternly.

"To-morrow let it be," returned Okiok, with the cool indifference of an Arctic hunter, to the immense delight of the women and others who heard the challenge, and antic.i.p.ated rare sport from the impending duel.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE HAIRY ONES FEAST AND ARE HAPPY.

Lest the reader should antic.i.p.ate, from the conclusion of the last chapter, that we are about to describe a scene of bloodshed and savagery, we may as well explain in pa.s.sing 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 still cling fondly and foolishly to the rapier and pistol.

If an Eskimo of the region about which we write thinks himself aggrieved by another, he challenges him to a singing and dancing combat. The idea of taking their revenge, or "satisfying their honour," by risking their lives and proving their courage in mortal combat, does not seem to have occurred to them--probably because the act would be without significance among men whose whole existence is pa.s.sed in the daily risk of life and limb and proof of courage.

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

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

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

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

"Okiok tells me," continued Rooney, "that there is to be no fighting or bloodshed 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--and pistol. A pistol is a thing that spouts fire and kills. Nations occasionally 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 of revenge is not good. But they do not always kill. They sometimes only wound slightly, and then they say that honour is satisfied, and they become friends."

"But--but," said the still puzzled Eskimo, "a wound cannot prove which quarreller 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 who is wrong has nothing to do with the matter. All they want is to prove that they are both very brave. Often, when one is slightly wounded--no matter which--they say they are satisfied."

"With what are they satisfied?"

"That's more than I can tell, Angut. But it is only a cla.s.s of men called _gentlemen_ who settle their quarrels thus. Common fellows like me 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 an undertone--

"Then my thoughts have been wrong."

"In what respect, Angut?"

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

As he spoke the sound of child-voices arrested them, and one was heard to utter the name of Nunaga. The two men paused to listen. They were close to the entrance to the ice-cave, which was on the side of the berg opposite to the spot where the games were being held, and the voices were recognised as those of p.u.s.s.i and Tumbler. With the indomitable perseverance that was natural to him, the latter had made a second attempt to lead p.u.s.s.i to the cave, and had been successful.

"What is he goin' to do?" asked p.u.s.s.i, in a voice of alarm.

"Goin' to run away vid sister Nunaga," replied Tumbler. "I heard Ippegoo 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 the listeners began to wonder. It was suddenly broken. Evidently the horrified p.u.s.s.i had been gathering up her utmost energies, for there burst from the sea-green depths of the cave a roar of dismay so stupendous that Angut and our seaman ran hastily forward, under the impression that some accident had occurred; but the children were sitting there all safe--Tumbler gazing in surprise at his companion, whose eyes were tight shut and her mouth wide-open.

The truth is that p.u.s.s.i loved and was beloved by Nunaga, and the boy's information had told upon her much more powerfully than he had expected.

Of course Tumbler was closely questioned by Angut, but beyond the sc.r.a.p of information he had already given nothing more was to be gathered from him. The two friends were therefore obliged to rest content with the little 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 before the whole community had kick-balled themselves into a state of utter incapacity for anything but feeding.

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

There was something grandly picturesque and Rembrandtish in the whole scene, for the smoke of the lamps, combined with the deep shadows of the rotund and hairy figures, formed a background out of which the animated oily faces shone with ruddy and glittering effect.

At first, of course, little sound was heard save the working of their jaws; but as nature began to feel more than adequately supplied, soft sighs began to be interpolated and murmuring conversation intervened.

Then some of the more moderate began to dally with t.i.t-bits, and the buzz of conversation swelled.