Red Rooney: The Last of the Crew Part 12

And it was by no means a simple feast to which that party sat down.

There were dried herrings and dried seal's flesh, and the same boiled; also boiled auks, dried salmon, dried reindeer venison, and a much-esteemed dish consisting of half raw and slightly putrid seal's flesh, called _mikiak_--something similar in these respects to our own game. But the princ.i.p.al dish was part of a whale's tail in a high or gamey condition. Besides these delicacies, there was a pudding, or dessert, of preserved crowberries, mixed with "chyle" from the maw of the reindeer, with train oil for sauce.

[See note.]

Gradually, as appet.i.te was satisfied, tongues were loosened, and information about the wonderful foreigner, which had been fragmentary at first, flowed in a copious stream. Then commentary and question began in right earnest.

"Have some more mikiak?" said Mrs Okiok to p.u.s.s.imek.

"No," replied Mrs P, with a sigh.

These northern Eskimos did not, at least at the time of which we write, say "thank you"--not that there was any want of good feeling or civility among them, but simply because it was not customary to do so.

Mrs Okiok then offered some more of the delicacy mentioned to the mother of Ippegoo.

"No," said Kunelik, leaning back with a contented air against the wall; "I am pleasantly stuffed already."

"But tell me," cried Issek, the stern mother of Arbalik, "what does the Kablunet say the people eat in his own land?"

"They eat no whales," said Nuna; "they _have_ no whales."

"No whales!" exclaimed p.u.s.s.imek, with a `huk' of surprise!

"No; no whales," said Nuna--"and no bears," she added impressively.

"Ridroonee, (that's his name), says they eat a thing called bread, which grows out of the ground like gra.s.s."

"Eat gra.s.s!" exclaimed the mother of Arbalik.

"So he says, and also beasts that have horns--"

"Reindeer?" suggested Kunelik.

"No; the horns are short, with only one point to each; and the beasts are much heavier than reindeer. They have also great beasts, with no name in our language--hurses or hosses he calls them,--but they don't eat these; they make them haul sledges on little round things called weels--"

"_I_ know," cried Sigokow; "they must be big dogs!"

"Huk!" exclaimed old Kannoa, who confined her observations chiefly to that monosyllable and a quiet chuckle.

"No," returned Nuna, becoming a little impatient under these frequent interruptions; "they are not dogs at all, but hurses--hosses--with hard feet like stones, and iron boots on them."

A general exclamation of incredulous surprise broke forth at this point, and the mother of Arbalik silently came to the conclusion that Nuna had at last joined the liars of the community, and was making the most of her opportunities, and coming out strong.

"Let there be no talk, and I will speak," said Nuna somewhat indignantly; "if you interrupt me again, I will send you all away to your huts!"

This threat produced silence, and a sniff from Arbalik's mother. Mrs Okiok went on:--

"The land, Ridroonee says, is very rich. They have all that they wish-- and _more_!" ("Huk!" from the company)--"except a great many people, called poo-oor, who have not all that they wish--and who sometimes want a little more." (A groan of remonstrative pity from the audience.) "But they have not many seals, and they _never_ eat them."

"Poo! I would not care to live there," said p.u.s.s.imek.

"And no walruses at all," added Mrs Okiok.

"Boo! a miserable country!" exclaimed Ippegoo's mother.

"Then they have villages--so big!--oh!" Nuna paused from incapacity to describe, for Eskimos, being unable to comprehend large numbers, are often obliged to have recourse to ill.u.s.tration. "Listen," continued Nuna, holding up a finger; "if all the whales we catch in a year were to be cooked, they would not feed the people of their largest village for _one_ day!"

The mother of Arbalik now felt that she had sufficient ground for the belief that Mrs Okiok was utterly demoralised and lost, in the matter of veracity. Mrs Okiok, looking at her, perceived this in her countenance, and dropped that subject with a soft smile of conscious innocence.

Thereupon curiosity broke forth again with redoubled violence.

"But what is the Kablunet like?" cried Kabelaw, as eagerly as if it were the first time of asking.

"I have told you six times," replied Nuna.

"Tell her again," cried the mother of Arbalik, with a sniff; "she's so used to lies that she finds it hard to take in _the truth_."

There was a sort of double hit intended here, which immensely tickled the Eskimos, who laughed heartily, for they are fond of a touch of sarcastic humour.

"Yes, tell her again," they cried unanimously--"for," added p.u.s.s.imek, "we're not tired of it yet. Are we, p.u.s.s.i?"

The query was addressed to her stark naked baby, which broke from a tremendous stare into a benignant laugh, that had the effect of shutting up its eyes at the same time that it opened its little mouth.

It must be remarked here that although we have called p.u.s.s.i a baby, she was not exactly an infant. She could walk, and understand, and even talk. She did not, however, (desirable child!) use her tongue freely.

In fact, Eskimo children seldom do so in the company of their elders.

They are p.r.o.ne to listen, and gaze, and swallow, (mentally), and to reply only when questioned. But they seem to consider themselves free to laugh at will--hence p.u.s.s.i's explosion.

"Well, then," continued Mrs Okiok good-naturedly, "I will tell you again. The Kablunet is a fine man. He must be very much finer when he is fat, for he is broad and tall, and looks strong; but he is thin just now--oh, so thin!--as thin almost as Ippegoo!"

Ippegoo's mother took this in good part, as, indeed, it was intended.

"But that will soon mend with stuffing," continued Nuna. "And his hair is brown--not black--and is in little rings; and there is nearly as much below his nose as above it, so that his mouth can only be seen when open. He carries needles and soft sinews, too, in his bag; but his needles are not fish-bones--they are iron; and the sinews are not like our sinews. They are--I know not what! He has a round thing also, made of white iron, in his pocket, and it is alive. He says, `No, it is a dead thing,' but he lies, for one day when he was out I heard it speaking to itself in a low soft little voice, but I was afraid to touch it for fear it should bite."

("Lies again!" muttered Issek, the mother of Arbalik, to herself.)

"He says that it tells him about time," continued Nuna; "but how can it tell him about anything if it is dead? Alive and dead at the same time!"

"Impossible!" cried p.u.s.s.imek.

"Ridiculous!" cried every one else.

"Huk!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed old Kannoa, wrinkling up her mild face and exposing her toothless gums in a stupendous chuckle.

"Yes, impossible! But I think he does not tell many lies," said Nuna apologetically. "I think he only does it a little. Then he goes on his knees every night before lying down, and every morning when he rises, and speaks to himself."

"Why?" cried every one in blazing astonishment.

"I know not," replied Nuna, "and he does not tell."

"He must be a fool," suggested Kunelik.