Red Rooney, by R.M. Ballantyne 
 
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Title: Red Rooney The Last of the Crew 
Author: R.M. Ballantyne 
Release Date: June 6, 2007 [EBook #21696] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED 
ROONEY *** 
 
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England 
 
RED ROONEY, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. 
A Tale of Eskimo (Innuit) Life in Greenland at the end of the 
Eighteenth Century. 
CHAPTER ONE.
THE LAST OF THE CREW. 
LOST AND FOUND. 
There is a particular spot in those wild regions which lie somewhere 
near the northern parts of Baffin's Bay, where Nature seems to have set 
up her workshop for the manufacture of icebergs, where Polar bears, in 
company with seals and Greenland whales, are wont to gambol, and 
where the family of Jack Frost may be said to have taken permanent 
possession of the land. 
One winter day, in the early part of the eighteenth century, a solitary 
man might have been seen in that neighbourhood, travelling on foot 
over the frozen sea in a staggering, stumbling, hurried manner, as if his 
powers, though not his will, were exhausted. 
The man's hairy garb of grey sealskin might have suggested that he was 
a denizen of those northern wilds, had not the colour of his face, his 
brown locks, and his bushy beard, betokened him a native of a very 
different region. 
Although possessing a broad and stalwart frame, his movements 
indicated, as we have said, excessive weakness. A morsel of ice in his 
path, that would have been no impediment even to a child, caused him 
to stumble. Recovering himself, with an evidently painful effort, he 
continued to advance with quick, yet wavering steps. There was, 
however, a strange mixture of determination with his feebleness. 
Energy and despair seemed to be conjoined in his look and action--and 
no wonder, for Red Rooney, although brave and resolute by nature, was 
alone in that Arctic wilderness, and reduced to nearly the last extremity 
by fatigue and famine. For some days--how many he scarcely 
remembered--he had maintained life by chewing a bit of raw sealskin 
as he travelled over the frozen waste; but this source of strength had at 
last been consumed, and he was now sinking from absolute want. 
The indomitable spirit of the man, however, kept his weakened body 
moving, even after the mind had begun to sink into that dreamy, 
lethargic state which is said to indicate the immediate approach of
death, and there was still a red spot in each of his pale and hollow 
cheeks, as well as an eager gleam of hope in his sunken eyes; for the 
purpose that Red Rooney had in view was to reach the land. 
It was indeed a miserably faint hope that urged the poor fellow on, for 
the desolate shore of Western Greenland offered little better prospect of 
shelter than did the ice-clad sea; but, as in the case of the drowning man, 
he clutched at this miserable straw of hope, and held on for life. There 
was the bare possibility that some of the migratory Eskimos might be 
there, or, if not, that some scraps of their food--some bits of refuse, 
even a few bones--might be found. Death, he felt, was quickly closing 
with him on the sea. The great enemy might, perhaps, be fought with 
and kept at bay for a time if he could only reach the land. 
Encouraging himself with such thoughts, he pushed on, but again 
stumbled and fell--this time at full length. He lay quiet for a few 
seconds. It was so inexpressibly sweet to rest, and feel the worn-out 
senses floating away, as it were, into dreamland! But the strong will 
burst the tightening bands of death, and, rising once more, with the 
exclamation, "God help me!" he resumed his weary march. 
All around him the great ocean was covered with its coat of solid, 
unbroken ice; for although winter was past, and the sun of early spring 
was at the time gleaming on bergs that raised their battlements and 
pinnacles into a bright blue sky, the hoary king of the far north refused 
as yet to resign his sceptre and submit to the interregnum of the genial 
sun. 
A large hummock or ridge of ice lay in front of the man, blocking his 
view of the horizon in that direction. It had probably been heaved up by 
one of the convulsions of the previous autumn, and was broken into a 
chaotic    
    
		
	
	
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