mrs okiok’s little evening party.
in eskimo land, as in england, power and industry result in the elevation and enrichment of individuals, though they have not yet resulted there, as here, in vast accumulations of wealth, or in class distinctions. the elevating tendency of superior power and practice is seen in the fact that while some hunters are nearly always pretty well off—“well-to-do,” as we would express it—others are often in a state of poverty and semi-starvation. a few of them possess two establishments, and some even go the length of possessing two wives. it is but just to add, however, that these last are rare. most eskimo men deem one wife quite as much as they can manage to feed.
our friend okiok was what we may style one of the aristocracy of the land. he did not, indeed, derive his position from inheritance, but from the circumstance of his being a successful hunter, a splendid canoe-man, and a tremendous fighter.
when it is added that his fights were often single-handed against the polar bear, it may be understood that both his activity and courage were great. he was not an angekok, for, like his friend angut, he did not believe in wizards; nevertheless he was very truly an angekok, in the sense of being an uncommonly wise man, and his countrymen, recognising the fact, paid him suitable respect.
okiok possessed a town and a country mansion. that is to say, besides the solitary residence already mentioned, close to the great glacier, he owned the largest hut in the eskimo village. it was indeed quite a palatial residence, capable of holding several families, and having several holes in it—or windows—which were glazed, if we may say so, with the scraped intestines of animals.
it was to this residence that okiok drove on the afternoon of the day that he missed ippegoo’s visit.
on finding that most of the men had gone southward to hunt, he resolved to follow them, for his purpose was to consult about the kablunet, who had so recently fallen like a meteor from the sky into their midst.
“but you will stop here, nuna, with nunaga, and tell the women all about the kablunet, while i go south alone. make a feast; you have plenty to give them. here, help me to carry the things inside.”
okiok had brought quite a sledge-load of provisions with him, for it had been his intention to give a feast to as many of the community as could be got inside his hut. the carrying in of the supplies, therefore, involving as it did creeping on hands and knees through a low tunnel with each article, was not a trifling duty.
“now,” said he, when at last ready to start, “be sure that you ask the liars and the stupid ones to the feast, as well as the wise; and make them sit near you, for if these don’t hear all about it from your own mouth they will be sure to carry away nonsense, and spread it. don’t give them the chance to invent.”
while her husband was rattling away south over the hummocky sea in his empty sledge, nuna lighted her lamps, opened her stores, and began to cook.
“go now, nunaga,” she said, “and tell the women who are to feed with us to-night.”
“who shall i invite, mother?” asked pretty little nunaga, preparing to set forth on her mission.
“invite old kannoa, of course. she is good.”
“yes, mother, and she is also griggy.”
we may remark in passing that it is impossible to convey the exact meaning of the eskimo word which we have rendered “griggy.” enough to say, once for all, that in difficult words and phrases we give as nearly as possible our english equivalents.
“and kunelik,” said nuna, continuing to enumerate her guests; “i like the mother of ippegoo. she is a pleasant little woman.”
“but father said we were to ask liars,” remarked nunaga, with a sweet look.
“i’m coming to them, child,” said mrs okiok, with a touch of petulance—the result of a gulp of lamp-smoke; “yes, you may ask pussimek also. the wife of simek is always full of wise talk, and her baby does not squall, which is lucky, for she cannot be forced to leave pussi behind.”
“but name the liars and stupid ones, mother,” urged nunaga, who, being a dutiful child, and anxious to carry out her father’s wishes to the letter, stuck to her point.
“tell issek, then, the mother of arbalik, to come,” returned nuna, making a wry face. “if she is not stupid, she is wicked enough, and dreadful at lies. and the sisters kabelaw and sigokow; they are the worst liars in all the village, besides being stupider than puffins. there, that will be enough for our first feed. when these have stuffed, we can have more. too many at once makes much cooking and little talk. go, my child.”
an hour later, and the gossips of the eskimo village were assembled round mrs okiok’s hospitable lamp—she had no “board,”—the raised floor at the further end of the hut serving both for seat and table in the daytime and for bed at night. of course they were all bursting with curiosity, and eager to talk.
but food at first claimed too much attention to permit of free conversation. yet it must not be supposed that the company was gluttonous or greedy. whatever eskimos may feel at a feast, it is a point of etiquette that guests should not appear anxious about what is set before them. indeed, they require a little pressing on the part of the host at first, but they always contrive to make amends for such self-restraint before the feast is over.
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 principal 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 appetite 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 pussimek.
“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 pussimek, 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 grass.”
“eat grass!” 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 pussimek.
“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 illustration. “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 pussimek, “we’re not tired of it yet. are we, pussi?”
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 pussi 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 prone 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 pussi’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 pussimek.
“ridiculous!” cried every one else.
“huk!” ejaculated 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.
“i suppose so,” returned nuna, “yet he does not look like a fool.”
at this point the description of rooney’s person and characteristics was interrupted by a tremendous splash. it was poor pussi, who, having grown wearied of the conversation, had slipped from her mother’s side, and while wandering in the background had tumbled into the oil-tub, from which she quickly emerged gasping, gazing, and glittering.
a mild remonstrance, with a good wipe down, soon put her to rights, and nuna was about to resume her discourse, when the sound of rushing footsteps outside arrested her. next moment a wild scrambling was heard in the tunnel—as of a giant rat in a hurry—and ippegoo tumbled into the hut in a state of wild excitement, which irresistibly affected the women.
“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.
note: for further light on this interesting subject see history of greenland and the moravian brethren, volume one, page 159. longman, 1820.
