Feeling all right, with the familiar paddle in his hands, Kajo tried to rouse himself, bethought him of flight, gave a hiccoughing cheer, and went skimming away like a sword-fish.
“After him now, boys, and keep alongside,” cried Okiok.
Responsive to the order, the boat shot after the kayak, but they had barely got under weigh when Kajo made a false stroke with the paddle, lost his balance, and disappeared.
“I expected that,” remarked Okiok, with a laugh.
“But the poor man will drown,” said Egede anxiously; “he is too drunk to recover himself.”
This was obvious, for the overturned craft seemed to quiver like a dying whale, while its owner made wild but fruitless efforts to recover his proper position; and it is certain that the poor man would then and there have paid the penalty of his intemperance with his life, if the boat had not ranged alongside, and rescued him.
“So then,” said Angut to Egede, as they were bringing Kajo ashore, “this is the effect of the mad waters that I have often heard of, but never seen till now.”
“Yes, Angut, you see the effect of them—at least on one man; but their effects vary according to the nature of those who drink. Some men they make violent, like Kajo; others become silly; while not a few become heavy, stupid, and brutal. In my country most if not all of the murders that take place are committed under the influence of strong drink. The Red Indians, who dwell far to the south-west of your lands, call strong drink ‘fire-water.’ Your own name ‘mad waters’ is better, I think.”
Kajo was led forward at this moment, looking very much dejected, and greatly sobered. He made no further attempt to resist, but, as a precaution, his hands were again tied, and then he was left to dry in the sun, and to his meditations, while the party made the traverse of the bay.
This was accomplished in three trips. As the last party was about to start, Okiok and Kajo alone remained on the shore.