And off they all ran, chattering and giggling at an amazing rate; and they tumbled into the boat in a manner that made the captain fairly frown to see such lack of discipline. We were all much amused to see the gay and lively manner in which they skipped over the thwarts to their respective places, brimful of fun and mischief, and altogether making quite a shocking exhibition for a boat’s crew, whose duties we are usually in the habit of seeing performed in a very sober manner. But they quieted down a little when a more sedate individual (who proved to be the coxswain)—dressed in short boots and long seal-skin pantaloons, and a cap instead of ribbons on the head—came along, and, taking the steering-oar, gave the order to “shove off.” The order was executed in handsome style, and the boat shot out over the little harbor very swiftly, each of the crew rising with the stroke of the oar; and bending to their work with a will, this singular-looking crew made their boat fairly hum again. “Fine oarsmen!” exclaimed somebody who had just come up, and had not heard the roster called. “Oars_men_!” replied the pastor, laughing at somebody’s exceeding innocence. “Oarsmen! why, dear me, they are oars_women_!” “Oars what?” “Oarswomen, to be sure.” “Oars_women_! Man alive! and do they always pull the boat?” “Always,” replied the pastor; “always. A man will never pull an oar in a woman’s boat. He would think it a humiliation and disgrace. The most he will do is to take the steering-oar, which is, indeed, quite legitimate business for him. He has his own small boat, the handling of which requires skill, while the woman’s boat requires none. A man steers the boat now; the other six, who pull the oars, are all of the other sex, and I could not wish for a better crew.” Upon being asked what duties as a crew they usually performed, he answered: “They row me about from place to place, as my pastoral duties call me; they gather hay for the cows, and bring home the fish (principally capelin and cod) that the fishermen catch and dry at distant places. Besides this, they do any thing they are told to do, and do not hesitate to expose themselves in any weather, unless it should blow too hard for the safety of the boat.” “Has such a boat any particular name?” the captain asked. “We call it an _oomiak_, which signifies, simply, a woman’s boat; while the man’s boat is called a _kayak_.” Here the Prince, who was growing somewhat impatient over this long catechizing, broke in with a query as to whether they pulled the oomiak to-morrow, in case we should conclude to go in her? “Certainly,” replied the pastor. “Just that same precious crew?” “The same crew exactly.” “Including the bow-oar you call Concordia?” “Including her, of course. She is the life of the crew, and I could never get along without Concordia.” “Nor I,” replied the Prince. “The boat will do for me. Sink or swim, survive or perish, I ship in that craft for one. Pipe the dear creatures back.”