The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole Part 27

Great was the surprise among the natives when they perceived that the three oomiaks had disappeared.

"My friends," said the Captain, rising, "I will now show you the manner in which we Englishmen use our oomiaks."

A soft sigh of expectation ran through the group of eager natives, as they pressed round their chief and Chingatok who stood looking on in dignified silence, while the Captain and his companions went to work.

Many of the women occupied a little eminence close at hand, whence they could see over the heads of the men, and some of the younger women and children clambered to the top of the hut, the better to witness the great sight.

Numerous and characteristic were the sighs, "huks," grunts, growls, and other exclamations; all of which were in keeping with the more or less intense glaring of eyes, and opening of mouths, and slight bending of knees and elbows, and spreading of fingers, and raising of hands, as the operators slowly unrolled the india-rubber ma.s.s, attached the bellows, gradually inflated the first boat, fixed the thwarts and stretchers, and, as it were, constructed a perfect oomiak in little more than ten minutes.

Then there was a shout of delight when the Captain and Leo, one at the bow, the other at the stern, lifted the boat as if it had been a feather, and, carrying it down the beach, placed it gently in the sea.

But the excitement culminated when Chingatok, stepping lightly into it, sat down on the seat, seized the little oars, and rowed away.

We should have said, attempted to row away, for, though he rowed l.u.s.tily, the boat did not move, owing to Anders, who, like Eskimos in general, dearly loved a practical joke. Holding fast by the tail-line a few seconds, he suddenly let go, and the boat shot away, while Anders, throwing a handful of water after it, said, "Go off, bad boy, and don't come back; we can do without you." A roar of laughter burst forth.

Some of the small boys and girls leaped into the air with delight, causing the tails of the latter to wriggle behind them.

The Captain gave them plenty of time to blow off the steam of surprise.

When they had calmed down considerably, he proceeded to open out and arrange one of the kites.

Of course this threw them back into the open-eyed and mouthed, and finger-spreading condition, and, if possible, called forth more surprise than before. When the kite soared into the sky, they shouted; when it was being attached to the bow of the boat, they held their breath with expectation, many of them standing on one leg; and when at last the boat, with four persons in it, shot away to sea at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, they roared with ecstasy; accompanying the yells with contortions of frame and visage which were so indescribable that we gladly leave it all to the reader's imagination.

There can be no doubt of the fact that the Captain placed himself and his countrymen that day on a pedestal from which there was no fear of their being afterwards dislodged.

"Did not I tell you," said Chingatok to his sire that night, in the privacy of his hut, "that the Kablunets are great men?"

"You did, my son. Chingatok is wise, and his father is a fool!"

No doubt the northern savage meant this self-condemning speech to be understood much in the same way in which it is understood by civilised people.

"When the oomiak swelled I thought it was going to burst," added the chief.

"So did I, when I first saw it," said Chingatok. Father and son paused a few minutes. They usually did so between each sentence. Evidently they pondered what they said.

"Have these men got wives?" asked the chief.

"The old one has, and Bunjay is his son. The other ones--no. The black man may have a wife: I know not, but I should think that no woman would have him."

"What made him black?"

"I know not."

"Was he always black?"

"The Kablunets say he was--from so big."

Chingatok measured off the half of his left hand by way of explaining how big.

"Is he black under the clothes?"

"Yes; black all over."

Again the couple paused.

"It is strange," said the old man, shaking his head. "Perhaps he was made black because his father was wicked."

"Not so," returned the young giant. "I have heard him say his father was a very good man."

"Strange," repeated the chief, with a solemn look, "he is very ugly-- worse than a walrus. Tell me, my son, where do the Kablunets live? Do they hunt the walrus or the seal?"

"Blackbeard has told me much, father, that I do not understand. His people do not hunt much--only a very few of them do."

"Wah! they are lazy! The few hunt to keep the rest in meat, I suppose."

"No, father, that is not the way. The few hunt for fun. The great many spend their time in changing one thing for another. They seem to be never satisfied--always changing, changing--every day, and all day.

Getting and giving, and never satisfied."

"Poor things!" said the chief.

"And they have no walruses, no white bears, no whales, nothing!" added the son.

"Miserables! Perhaps that is why they come here to search for _nothing_!"

"But, father, if they have got nothing at home, why come here to search for it?"

"What do they eat?" asked Amalatok, quickly, as if he were afraid of recurring to the puzzling question that had once already taken him out of his mental depth.

"They eat all sorts of things. Many of them eat things that are nasty-- things that grow out of the ground; things that are very hot and burn the tongue; things that are poison and make them ill. They eat fish too, like us, and other people bring them their meat in great oomiaks from far-off lands. They seem to be so poor that they cannot find enough in their own country to feed themselves."

"Wretched creatures!" said the old man, pitifully. "Yes, and they drink too. Drink waters so hot and so terrible that they burn their mouths and their insides, and so they go mad."

"Did I not say that they were fools?" said Amalatok, indignantly.

"But the strangest thing of all," continued Chingatok, lowering his voice, and looking at his sire in a species of wonder, "is that they fill their mouths with smoke!"

"What? Eat smoke?" said Amalatok in amazement.

"No, they spit it out."

"Did Blackbeard tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Then Blackbeard is a liar!"

Chingatok did not appear to be shocked by the old man's plain speaking, but he did not agree with him.

"No, father," said he, after a pause. "Blackbeard is not a liar. He is good and wise, and speaks the truth. I have seen the Kablunets do it myself. In the big oomiak that they lost, some of the men did it, so-- puff, pull, puff, puff--is it not funny?"

Both father and son burst into laughter at this, and then, becoming suddenly grave, remained staring at the smoke of their cooking-lamp, silently meditating on these things.