The mother of Ippegoo, fearing he had divined her thoughts, was overwhelmed, and tried to hide her blushing face behind Issek.
“They don’t believe me,” said the seaman in a low voice to Okiok.
“Of course they don’t. You might as well tell us that the world is round, when we see that it is flat!”
Rooney sighed. He felt depressed. The impossibility of his ever getting these people to understand or believe many things was forced upon him. The undisguised assurance that they looked upon him as the best liar they had ever met with was unsatisfactory.
“Besides all this, my friends,” he cried, with a feeling and air of reckless gaiety, “we have grand feasts, just as you have, and games too, and dances, and songs—”
“Songs!” shouted Simek, with an excited look; “have you songs? can you sing?”
“Well, after a fashion I can,” returned Rooney, with a modest look, “though I don’t pretend to be much of a dab at it. Are you fond o’ singin’?”
“Fond!” echoed Simek, with a gaze of enthusiasm, “I love it! I love it nearly as much as I love Pussimek; better, far, than I love blubber! Ho! sing to us, Ridroonee.”
“With all my heart,” said Rooney, starting off with all his lung-power, which was by no means slight.
“Rule Britannia,” rendered in good time, with tremendous energy, and all the additional flourishes possible, nearly drove the audience wild with delight. They had never heard anything like it before.