escape from present danger, and a curious instance of the effects of gin.

although nunaga, kabelaw, and the children were now happily re-united to friends and kindred, their dangers were by no means over, for a wide space of ice-blocked sea separated the small island from the shores of greenland, and their supply of meat was not sufficient, even with economy, to maintain the whole party for more than a couple of days.

in these circumstances they were much comforted, after the storm had blown itself out, to find that the pack had been considerably loosened, and that several lanes of open water extended through it in the direction of the shore.

“there is a temporary settlement of natives not far from here, on the mainland,” said egede, when he and some of the men were assembled on the beach discussing their plans. “although not very friendly, they would nevertheless help us, i think, in this hour of need. they have been demoralised by traders, and drawn away from the mission at godhaab. but how we are to get to the mainland it is difficult to see, unless god mercifully clears away the ice.”

“why don’t you ask your god to clear it away?” demanded simek. “have you not told us that he answers prayer offered in the name of jesus?”

egede looked at his questioner in some surprise, mingled with pleasure, for his experience had taught him that too many of the natives either assented without thought to whatever he said, or listened with absolute indifference, if not aversion—especially when he attempted to bring truth home, or apply it personally.

“i am glad you ask the question, simek,” he replied, “because it gives me the opportunity of telling you that i have asked god, in the name of jesus, to bring us out of our present trouble, and also of explaining that i never pray without adding the words ‘if it be thy will’—for god does not always answer prayer exactly in accordance with our request, but according to his own wisdom; so that, if he were hereafter to say, ‘now, is not that better than you asked?’ we would be obliged to reply, ‘yes, lord, it is better.’”

as the expression on simek’s face showed that he was not quite convinced, egede added—

“listen, simek. i and my people were starving here. i prayed to god, in jesus’ name, to send us deliverance. did he not answer my prayer by sending you and your party with food!”

“true,” assented simek.

“listen again, simek. were you not in great danger when your oomiak and kayaks were crushed in the ice?”

“yes.”

“were you not in very great danger when you were imprisoned on the iceberg—in danger of starvation, in danger of being crushed by its disruption?”

“yes.”

“well, now, if you had believed in the great and good spirit at that time, what would you have asked him to do for you?”

“i would have asked him to clear the sea of ice,” replied the eskimo promptly, “and send us kayaks and oomiaks to take us on shore.”

“and if he had answered you according to your prayer, you would have said, no doubt, ‘that is well.’”

“yes,” answered simek emphatically, and with a smile.

“but suppose,” continued egede, “that god had answered you by delivering you in another way—by keeping you on the berg; by making that berg, as it were, into a great oomiak, and causing it to voyage as no oomiak ever voyaged—causing it to plough through pack-ice as no ship made by man ever ploughed; to go straight to an island to which no human power could have brought you; and to have done it all in time to save your own dear pussi and all the rest of us from starvation—would you not have said that god had answered your prayer in a way that was far better?”

while the missionary was speaking, profound gravity took the place of the puzzled expression on the countenance of simek and of the others who were listening, for their intelligence was quite quick enough to perceive the drift of his argument before it was finished.

“but,” said simek earnestly, “i did not pray for this, yet i got it.”

“true, the good spirit guided you, even though you did not pray,” returned egede. “is not this a proof of his love? if he is so good to thankless and careless children, what sure ground have we for trusting that he will be good to those who love him! what our great father wants is that we should love and trust him.”

there was one man of the group whose lips were parted, and whose eyes seemed to glitter as he listened. this was angut. much and deeply had that intelligent eskimo thought about the great spirit and the mysteries around and within himself, but never till that moment did the curtain seem to rise so decidedly from before his spiritual vision. egede observed the keen gaze, though he judged it wise to take no notice of it at the time, but he did not fail to pray mentally that the good seed might take root.

the attention of the party was called off the subject of discourse just then by a further movement of the pack-ice.

“see, the lanes of open water widen,” exclaimed okiok eagerly, pointing seaward.

“perhaps,” said egede, “god intends to deliver us.”

“have you prayed to be delivered?” asked angut quickly.

“yes, i have.”

“suppose,” continued the inquisitive eskimo, “that god does not deliver you, but leaves you here to die. would that be answering your prayer?”

“yes; for instead of granting my request in the way i wished, namely, that i might be permitted to live and preach about the great spirit to your countrymen for many years, he would have answered my prayer for deliverance by taking me away from all evil, to be with jesus, which is far better.”

to the surprise of the missionary, a look of disappointment settled on the face of angut.

“what ails you?” he asked.

“from what you say,” returned the eskimo, somewhat coldly, “i see that, with you, whatever happens is best; nothing can be wrong. there is something which tells me here,”—he placed his hand on his breast—“that that is not true.”

“you misunderstand me, friend,” said egede; “i did not say that nothing can be wrong. what i do say is that whatever god does is and must be right. but god has given to man a free will, and with his free will man does wrong. it is just to save man from this wrong-doing that jesus came to earth.”

“free will?” murmured the eskimo, with a recurrence of the perplexed look. and well might that look recur, for his untrained yet philosophical mind had been brought for the first time face to face with the great insoluble problem of the ages.

“yes,” said egede, “you have got hold of a thought which no man has ever yet been able to fathom. free will is a great mystery, nevertheless every child knows that it is a great fact.”

from this point angut seemed to commune only with his own spirit, for he put no more questions. at the same time the opening up of the pack rendered the less philosophical among the eskimos anxious to make some practical efforts for their deliverance.

at rooney’s suggestion it was arranged that the boldest of the men should take the missionary’s boat—a very small one that could not carry above a third of the party,—and examine the leads of open water, until they should ascertain whether they seemed safe or practicable; then return at once, and, if the report should be favourable, begin by taking off the women and children. this plan was carried out. a favourable report was brought back, the women were immediately embarked, and before evening closed the whole party was landed on the mainland in safety.

being too late to proceed further that day, the eskimos ran up a rude shelter of stones, moss, and sticks, the women being accommodated under the upturned boat. next day they found that the pack had continued to ease off during the night, so that there was a lead of open water between it and the shore.

“you have been praying during the night,” said okiok to egede in an abrupt manner, almost as if he were accusing him of taking an unfair advantage of circumstances.

“truly i have,” answered the missionary, with an amused look, “but i did not presume to ask the great spirit to help us in this particular way. i left that to his wisdom and love. i have been taught to trust him.”

“and if you had not got an answer at all,” returned okiok, wrinkling his brows in perplexity, “you would still have said that all was right?”

“just so. if i get an answer it is well. if i get no answer it is still well, for then i know that he sees delay to be best for me and i feel sure that the answer will come at last, in the right way, and in good time, for in the book of the great spirit i am told that ‘all things work together for good to them that love god.’”

“what!” exclaimed angut, who had listened to the conversation with intense interest; “would it be good for you if i killed you?”

“of course it would, if god allowed it. thousands of men and women in time past have chosen to be killed rather than offend god by sinning.”

“this is very strange teaching,” said angut, glancing at his friend okiok.

“it is the teaching of jesus, the son of god. i am only his servant,” said the missionary, “and i hope to tell you much more that will seem very strange before long; but at present we must arrange what is now to be done, for it is the duty of all men to take advantage of opportunities as they are presented to them.”

the truth of this was so obvious that the eskimos at once dropped into the region of the practical by advising that the women should all get into the boat and advance by water, while the men should walk by the shore.

this being agreed to, the boat was launched. although not an eskimo oomiak, the little craft, which was made of wood, and resembled a punt, was propelled by oomiak paddles, so that madame okiok, who was appointed steerswoman, felt herself quite at home when seated in her place. sigokow, being a powerful creature, physically as well as mentally, was put in charge of the bow-paddle. the other women were ranged along the sides, each with a paddle except old kannoa who was allowed to sit in the bottom of the craft as a passenger, and guardian of pussi and tumbler.

as these last were prone to jump about under violent impulses of joyous hilarity, and had an irresistible desire to lean over the sides for the purpose of dipping their hands in the sea, the duty of the old woman, although connected with children’s play, was by no mean’s child’s play.

three miles an hour being the average speed at which the boat went, the walkers easily kept up with it. only once did a difficulty occur when they came to a narrow bay which, although not more than a mile or so across from point to point, ran so far inland that the walkers could not have gone round it without great loss of time.

“we must be ferried across here,” said egede; “but as it is past noon, i think we had better call a halt, and dine before making the traverse.”

“that is my opinion, too, sir,” said rooney, throwing down the bundle he had been carrying.

as the invitation to feed seldom comes amiss to a healthy eskimo, egede’s proposal was at once agreed to, and in a few minutes they were all busily engaged.

it was a pretty spot, that on which they dined. bushes just beginning to bud surrounded them; brilliant sunshine drew forth delicious scents from the long, long frozen earth and the reviving herbage on which they sat. it also drew forth gushing rivulets from the patches of snow and heavy drifts, which here and there by their depth and solidity seemed to bid defiance to the sweet influences of spring. the ice-laden sea sent gentle wavelets to the pebbly shore. a group of large willows formed a background to their lordly hall, and behind them, in receding and grand perspective, uprose the great shoulders of greenland’s mountains.

on all those natural objects of interest and beauty, however, the travellers did not at first bestow more than a passing glance. they were too much engrossed with “metal more attractive,” in the shape of bear blubber; but when appetite began to fail conversation began to flow. at that point it occurred to pussi and tumbler that they would go and have some fun.

child-nature is much the same all the world over and curiously enough, it bears strong resemblance to adult nature. having fed to satiety, these chips of simek and okiok lifted up their eyes, and beheld the surrounding shrubs. at once the idea arose—“let us explore.” the very same impulse that sent mungo park and livingstone to africa; ross, parry, franklin, kane, and all the rest of them toward the pole, led our little hero and heroine into that thicket, and curiosity urged them to explore as far as possible. they did so, and, as a natural consequence, lost themselves. but what cared they for that? with youth, and health, and strength, they were as easy in their minds as lieutenant greely was with sextant, chart, and compass. as to food, were they not already victualled for, not a three years’, but a three hours’, expedition?

and their parents were not disturbed on their account. eskimo fathers and mothers are not, as a rule, nervous or anxious about their offspring.

in a remarkably short space of time pussi and tumbler, walking hand in hand, put more than a mile of “bush” between them and their feeding-place.

“oh! wha’s dat?” exclaimed pussi, stopping short, and gazing into the thicket in front of her.

we pause to remind the reader that our little ones lisped in eskimo, and that, in order to delineate faithfully, our only resource is to translate into lisping english.

“it’s a man,” exclaimed tumbler.

“i tink him’s a funny man,” murmured the little girl, as the man approached.

pussi was right. but it was not his dress, so much as his gait and expression, that were funny. for the stranger was obviously an eskimo, being flat and fat-visaged, black-and-straight haired, and seal-skinnily clad.

the singular point about him was his walk. to all appearance it was a recently acquired power, for the man frowned almost fiercely at the ground as he advanced, and took each step with an amount of forethought and deliberation which to the children seemed quite unaccountable. nay, after having taken a step, he would seem suddenly to repent, and draw back, putting a foot behind him again, or even to one side or the other—anywhere, in short, rather than in front. coming up to the children at last by this painful process, he became suddenly aware of their presence, and opened his eyes to an extent that could only be accounted for on the wild supposition that he had never seen a child in all his life before.

having stared for a minute or so with all the intensity of the most solemn surprise, he blinked like a sleepy owl, his mouth expanded, and his whole countenance beamed with good-will; but suddenly he changed back, as if by magic, to the solemn-surprise condition.

this was too much for the children, who simultaneously burst into a hilarious fit of laughter.

the fit seemed catching, for the man joined them with a loud roar of delight, swaying to and fro with closed eyes as he did so.

the roar brought up red rooney, who had followed the children’s steps and happened to be close to them at the time of the explosion. he looked at the man for a moment, and then his muttered remark, “drunk as a fiddler!” cleared up the mystery.

when the man opened his eyes, having finished his laugh, and beheld a tall kablunet gazing sternly at him, all the fire of his ancestors blazed up in his breast, and came out at his eyes. drawing his knife, he sprang at our seaman with the murderous weapon uplifted.

rooney caught his wrist, put a foot behind his leg, gave him a sort of twirl, and laid him flat on his back. the fall caused the knife to spin into the air, and the poor eskimo found himself at the mercy of the kablunet.

instead of taking the man’s life, rooney bade him sit up. the man did so with a solemn look, not unmixed with perplexity.

there is a phase of that terrible vice drunkenness which is comic, and it is not of the slightest use to ignore that fact. there were probably few men who detested strong drink and grieved over its dire effects more than red rooney. he had been led, at a time when total abstinence was almost unknown, to hate the very name of drink and to become a total abstainer. yet he could not for the life of him resist a hearty laugh when the befuddled eskimo blinked up in his face with an imbecile smile, and said—“wh–whash ’e matter, y–you st–stupid ole’ k–k–kablunet?”

the difficulty and faulty nature of his pronunciation was such that slipshod english serves admirably to indicate his state of mind, although neither english nor eskimo, arabic nor hebrew, will suffice to describe in adequate terms the tremendous solemnity of his gaze after the imbecile smile had passed away.

“you disreputable old seal,” said rooney, “where did you get the drink?”

words are wanting to express the dignified look of injured innocence with which the man replied—“i—i’ve had no d–drink. nosh a d–drop!”

“yes, truly you are a man and a brother,” muttered rooney, as he noted this “touch of nature,” and felt that he was in the company of “kin.” “what’s your name, you walrus?”

“k–kazho,” answered the man indignantly.

“what!”

“k–ka–zho,” he repeated, with emphasis.

“i suppose you mean kajo, you unnatural jellyfish.”

kajo did not condescend to say what he meant, but continued to eye the kablunet with lofty disdain, though the effect of his expression was marred by his attention being distracted by pussi and tumbler, whose faces were fiery red, owing to fits of suppressed laughter.

“get up now, you old rascal,” said rooney. “come along with me, and i’ll show you to my friends.”

at first the eskimo showed a disposition to resist, but when the powerful seaman lifted him up by the neck of his coat, as if he had been a little dog, and set him on his legs, he thought better of it, smiled benignly, and moved on.

hans egede at once recognised this fellow as one of the most troublesome of his flock.

“i have done my best to keep strong drink from that man,” he explained to rooney, “but, as you must be aware from your long residence among them, the traders will supply the poor creatures with rum, and kajo’s naturally sanguine temperament is unable to withstand its influence. over and over again he has promised me—with tears of, i believe, true repentance in his eyes—to give it up; but as surely as the traders offer it to him, and prevail on him to take one drop, so surely does he give way to a regular debauch.”

while he spoke to rooney in the danish tongue, the subject of conversation stood with bowed head, conscience-smitten, before him, for, although he did not understand the language, he guessed correctly that the talk was about his own misdeeds.

“come with me,” said the missionary, taking the poor man by the arm, leading him aside to some distance, and evidently entering into serious remonstrance—while kajo, as evidently, commenced energetic protestations.

on returning, egede said that the eskimo told him his tribe had moved along the coast to a better hunting-ground, and were at that moment located in an old deserted village, just beyond the point for which they were making, on the other side of the bay. he therefore advised that they should start off at once, so as to reach the camp early in the evening.

“kajo tells me,” added egede, “that his kayak lies hid in the bushes at no great distance; so he can go with us. he is not too drunk, i think, to manage his light craft.”

but egede was wrong, for even while he was speaking kajo had slipped quietly behind a bush. there, after a cautious look round to see that no one observed him, he drew a curious little flat earthenware bottle from some place of concealment about his dress, applied it to his lips, and took what rooney would have styled “a long, hearty pull.”

that draught was the turning-point. the comic and humorous were put to flight, and nothing but fierce, furious savagery remained behind. many men in their cups become lachrymose, others silly, and some combative. the fiery liquor had the latter effect on kajo. issuing from his place of retirement with a fiendish yell and glaring eyes, he made an insane attack on angut. that eskimo, having no desire to hurt the man, merely stepped lightly out of his way and let him pass. fortunately his knife had been left on the ground where rooney first met him, for he stumbled and fell upon kabelaw, into whom he would certainly have plunged the weapon had it still been in his hand.

jumping up, he looked round with the glaring eyes of a tiger, while his fingers clutched nervously at the place where he was wont to carry the lost knife.

seeing his condition, arbalik sprang towards him, but, stooping quickly, kajo darted out of his way. at the same moment he snatched up a knife that had been left lying on the ground. the first effect of the last draught seemed for the time to have increased the man’s powers of action, for, rushing round the circle, he came suddenly upon poor old kannoa, who chanced to be seated a little apart from the others. seizing her thin hair, kajo brandished the knife in front of her throat, and, glaring at the men, gave vent to a wild laugh of triumph.

it was evident that he was for the time quite mad and unaccountable for his actions—though by no means unaccountable for taking the accursed drink that reduced him to that state of temporary insanity. red rooney, aghast with horror at the impending fate of the dear old remembrancer of his grandmother, sprang forward with the agility of a wild cat, but his energy, intensified though it was by rage, could not have prevented the catastrophe if ippegoo had not come to the rescue.

yes, that mild youth was the instrument chosen to avert the blow. he chanced to be standing beside a mass of turf which okiok had cut from the ground for the purpose of making a dry seat for nuna. seizing this, ippegoo hurled it at the head of the drunken eskimo. never before did the feeble youth make such a good shot. full on the flat face of the drunkard it went, like the wad of a siege-gun, scattering earth and débris all round—and down went the eskimo. unable to check himself, down also went rooney on the top of him.

next moment the luckless kajo was secured with a piece of walrus-line, and flung on one side, while the indignant party held a noisy consultation as to what was to be done with him.