CHAPTER XIX.
The Peculiar People proving to be Savages, the Castaways seize the First Opportunity to leave them, not relishing their Company.
“I have not latterly said much about the Dean; but you may be very sure that such a fine fellow could not fail to be greatly delighted with the change that had come about, as it not only led us away from our desolate life on the desert island, but gave us a promise at least of the rescue which we had so earnestly prayed for. ‘We ought to be very thankful,’ said the Dean to me one day, ‘very thankful indeed for this deliverance.’ But as I did not much relish the habits and customs of the savages, I did not find myself of the same thankful disposition; so I replied to the Dean, that the change looked much like that of the fish who fell out of the frying-pan into the fire. ‘You should not say so,’ replied the Dean. ‘I see the hand of God in it; and he who has mercifully preserved us through so many trials and dangers will not desert us now.’
“The Dean said no more at that time, but he became very thoughtful, while, as for myself, I felt quite ashamed that I had spoken so slightingly of the savages, and had shown so much impatience with their rather disagreeable company; for, to tell the truth, their ways were somewhat offensive, as they never washed their faces, and were altogether rather a filthy set.
“The Dean, however, did not stop with preaching about them, but, on the contrary, did everything he could for them. One of the hunters had gone to catch seals, and, the ice breaking up, he was drifted out to sea, where he took refuge on an iceberg, upon which he managed to drag his dogs and sledge. Here he lived through terrible storms and cold for a whole moon (that being the way they reckon time), and he only escaped finally by the iceberg drifting in near the land, when the sea froze around it. After great trouble he got ashore, with both of his feet dreadfully frozen, which is easily accounted for when you know that the poor fellow had no shelter at all while on the iceberg, and had nothing to eat but his dogs, all of which died of starvation. This savage had no wife, and the Dean took care of him, and dressed his frost-bites, and was so good to him that the savages all called him ‘Paw-weit’, which means ‘Little Good-heart.’ So the Dean got on famously; but the poor frozen savage that he had been so kind to died at last, and was buried in the snow.
“A child fell on the ice, and broke its arm, and the Dean set it, and made it all right; and to other people he did many things to show his sympathy for them; but, when he began to tell them about our religion, they did not understand him, and had no mind to listen. This very much grieved the Dean; for he wanted to convert the whole of them, and thought, if he only knew their language better, he could persuade them all to be Christians,—which I think very likely, for nobody could resist him.
“We remained at the snow village three weeks, but we did not do much more hunting, as the savages seemed to think they had enough for their present wants; and since they are almost constantly moving about from place to place in search of food, they never store up much for the future. Having enough to eat for the present, they let the future take care of itself; and, sure of a good meal, they amuse themselves mostly with telling stories, usually about each other,—that is, when they are not eating or sleeping, which I must say occupies most of their time.
“They had a singular custom in their story-telling which I have never seen among any other people. One person recites the story, and the listeners break in, every now and then, with a laughing chorus that is nothing more than a repetition of the meaningless words, ‘amna aya’, which are sung over and over to any extent. The women generally enjoy it the most, and sing the loudest, especially when a man is concerned. I will give you a specimen of this kind of song,—translated, of course, as I have long ago forgotten how to speak their language.
“Eatum is telling the story of a bear-hunt, and as you will see that it is a kind of song, I will sing it for you, and you can join in the chorus just as well as if you were all little savages yourselves. We will call it