“Do you not see the small pieces of ice?” replied Rooney, pointing to the sea.
“Yes,” said the Eskimo; “they are going north faster than we are; that is all.”
“Why do they go north faster than we do?” asked Rooney.
“That I know not.”
“I will tell you, Okiok. It is because there is a surface current here flowing northward, and the small pieces of ice go with it because they are not deep. But this berg is very deep. There is far more of it below water than what we see above. Its bottom goes deep down into the under-current which flows south, and so it is being carried south—not north at all,—against the variable surface-currents, and it would go even against the wind if there was any. Do you understand?”
“Huk!” exclaimed the Eskimo, though he still looked perplexed.
“I have seen these bergs breaking from the great land-ice since I was a little boy,” said Angut, with earnest gravity, “and I have seen them float away and away till they vanished in the far-off. Can Ridroonee tell where they go to?”
“Truly I can. They are carried by currents out into the great sea—we call it the Atlantic,—and there they melt and disappear.”
“Then shall we disappear with this berg, if we don’t escape from it?” said Okiok, with a look so serious that it was almost humorous.
“That is the pleasant prospect in store for us, as you say,” returned Rooney; “but cheer up, lad. We intend to escape from it; so don’t let your heart sink, else your body won’t be able to swim.”