Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew Part 8

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

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

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

"Don't call me Kablunet. Call me Red Rooney. It will be more friendly-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 thin skin of the duck, which will tell men far away what they are thinking about?"

"Ay, that's true enough," replied the sailor, with an easy smile of patronage; "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 'cute fellow, as the Yankees say. But come, I'll try to show you how easy it is. See here." He pulled a small note-book from his pocket, and drew thereon 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 the same marks for the same beast; other marks for other beasts?"

"Just so. You've hit it!" exclaimed Rooney, quite pleased with the intelligence of his pupil.

"But how if it is not a beast?" asked the Eskimo. "How if you cannot see 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 talked with my torngak. How do you mark torngak? I never saw him. No man ever saw a torngak. And how do you make marks for cold, for wind, for all our thoughts, and for the light?"

It was now Red Rooney's turn to look perplexed. He knew that writing was easy enough to him who understands it, and he felt that there must be some method of explaining the matter, but how to go about the explanation to one so utterly ignorant did not at once occur to him. We have seen, however, that Rooney was a resolute man, not to be easily baffled. 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 of the Innuits get confused in mind beyond twenty, because they have only ten fingers and ten toes to look at."

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

Yes, Angut understood that well.

"Well, then," resumed Rooney, jotting down the figure 5, "there you have it--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 not five?"

"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 and indulgent to their children, and seldom or never whack them.

It would be tedious to go further into this subject, or to describe the ingenious methods by which the seaman sought to break up the fallow ground of Angut's eminently receptive mind. Suffice it to say that Rooney 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 thought himself to be, his first talk with the Kablunet had proved him to be immeasurably more ignorant than he had supposed.

The sailor marked the depression which was caused by this piece of knowledge, and set himself good-naturedly to counteract the evil by displaying his watch, at sight of which there was a wild exclamation of surprise and delight from all except Angut, who, however deep his feelings might be, always kept them bridled. The expansion of his nostrils and glitter of his eyes, however, told their tale, though no exclamation pa.s.sed his lips.

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

The watch and the knife, to which they reverted later on, kept the lecturer and audience going till late in the evening, by which time our sailor had completely won the hearts of the Eskimos, and they had all become again so hungry that Okiok gave a hint to his wife to stir up the lamp and prepare supper. Then, with a sigh of relief, they all allowed their strained minds to relax, and the conversation took a more general turn. It is but fair to add that, as the sailor had won the hearts of the natives, so his heart had been effectually enthralled by them. For Angut, in particular, Rooney felt that powerful attraction which is the result of similar tastes, mutual sympathies, and diversity of character.

Rooney had a strong tendency to explain and teach; Angut a stronger tendency to listen and learn. The former was impulsive and hasty; the latter meditative and patient. Rooney was humorously disposed and jovial, while his Eskimo friend, though by no means devoid of humour, was naturally grave and sedate. Thus their dispositions formed a pleasing contrast, and their tastes an agreeable harmony.

"What did you say was the name of your country?" asked Angut, during a brief 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 scarcely claim it as my own, for you see my father was Irish and my mother was Scotch. I was born in Wales, an' I've lived a good bit o' my life in England. So you see I can't claim to be anything in particular."

As this was utterly incomprehensible to the Eskimo, he resumed his bit of blubber without saying a word. After a brief silence, he looked at the 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. "Are they as big?"

Rooney laughed at this, and said, Yes; they were much bigger--as big as the 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 that one of the villages of his countrymen covered a s.p.a.ce as big as they could see--away to the very horizon, and beyond it.

"But, Angut," said Rooney, growing somewhat weary at last, "you've asked me 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--an angekok--among his people, but that he denies the fact. Why does he deny it?"

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

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

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

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