Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter XV
CHAPTER XV.
First Excursion in Frobisher Bay—Travelling on the Ice—A Tradition concerning White Men masting a Ship—The Innuit Village—Twer-puk-ju-a—Sterry living with the Natives—"Charming" a Seal—Kokerjabin's Birthplace—Kingaite—Karmowong—Author adopts Innuit Life—Trip along the Coast—The "Ice-foot"—Summer Resting-places of the Innuits—Sundry Articles belonging to a wrecked Ship—Grandeur of Kingaite Mountains—The Grinnell Glacier—A Seal Hunt—Feasting—The Seal's Eyes given to youngest Child-Knowledge coming to an Inquirer—Tide entering the Igloos at Night—Author becomes an Angeko—Return Journey—Laughable Incident—A tight Fit—Curious Mountain Mark—Abundance of Animal Life—Arrival at Twerpukjua and at Annawa's—An animated Sunday Picture.
On Monday morning, April 22d, 1861, at half-past 10 o'clock, I started on my trip—the first yet made by me into Frobisher Bay. My guide and companion was Koojesse; and as we should have to cross a neck of land between the two bays, and thence travel on foot upon the ice, I could not carry much baggage. All, therefore, that I took was the following:—
My native tuktoo jacket, pants, and mittens, an extra pair of native boots and stockings, my charts and chart material, protractor, dividers, parallel and plain rule, artificial horizon, with bottle of mercury, a pocket sextant, azimuth compass and tripod, marine glass, thermometer, besides beads and several plugs of tobacco, for presents to the natives. With these articles pendent to a strap passing over my shoulders, across my breast, and down my back, I departed.
Our course from the ship was westerly to the other side of Field Bay, where we struck the land, and met some of the natives with dogs and sledge, conveying walrus hide, meat, and blubber to the vessel. A couple more were also going thither to obtain eye-water for Sterry, who was at that time living with some of the people near the island called Oopungnewing. From Field Bay our track was over the mountain-pass much frequented by the natives. This pass, which I have named after Bayard Taylor, was, in some parts of it, very steep and fatiguing, but the scenery was grand and captivating.
Half-way on the route we stopped at a spring of delicious water, and there had our dinner. Thence we continued to ascend until reaching the summit of the pass. We then commenced our descent by following a course between high rocks, along a path that was, in one or two places, very steep.
Presently, after passing through a magnificent gorge, we came on to a small inlet leading up from an arm of Countess of Warwick Sound. This we traversed for about an eighth of a mile, until, coming to an abrupt turn where a bold, bluff mountain was on either side, I caught sight of Frobisher Bay, and the mountains of Kingaite beyond. The view was, to me, quite exciting. The ice-covered bay, with the distant peaks of Meta Incognita, and the dark, abrupt cliffs at our side, seemed a glorious picture to one, like myself, beholding it for the first time.
The sun was now descending, but the moon's silvery rays would serve to guide us on, therefore we hastened forward, though the distance was yet some miles to travel. In a short time more we were traversing the snow-wreaths that covered the bay-ice, and, as we passed on, Koojesse pointed out a place at our right which he said was where the "white men, a long time ago, had masted a ship;" but this seemed so improbable that I did not at that time believe him.
The island we were now going to was the one Annawa and his family went to at the time we escorted them part of the way the previous fall (see page 130), and we now intended to rest there for the night. But it was quite 9 p.m. before we arrived, and then some of the family were in bed. This, however, did not prevent our having a prompt and most friendly reception. The aged Annawa and all those with him quickly gave us food, and a prompt offer of hospitality for the night. They were all much rejoiced to see me, and, though there was no "spare bed," yet I was cordially invited to share theirs. Soon afterward, tired and sore with my long walk of near twenty miles over ice, mountain, and ice again, I retired to rest as best I could.
That night my sleep was a sound one, though I was tightly squeezed, the sleepers being numerous, and all in the same bed! There were nine of us, besides the infant at the breast—a boy 3½ feet in height, of portly dimensions!
The order of our sleeping was as follows: Key-e-zhune, the wife of Annawa, lay in her place by the ik-ku-mer or fire-light, with "infant" Koh-uk-jun between herself and her husband; then next to him was the child Oo-suk-je; I lay alongside of the child, Koojesse next to me; then came Esh-ee-loo, with his wife Oonga, all of us facing upward. Then, with feet at our faces, were a young man Innuit, and the little girl Kim-mi-loo, who lives with Annawa.
The space in which the ten were compacted and interwoven was less than as many feet! Of course, I had to sleep in my day-dress, as no spare bed is kept in reserve for company, nor have they a tuktoo covering more than they need for the family; but I got along through the night after a fashion. It was, however, not very pleasant. Whenever I attempted to turn to relieve my aching bones, a little boy by my side roared like a young lion, awaking all the sleepers, and thus a confusion followed that would have deprived me of farther slumber but for my great fatigue. However, the night passed on, and early in the morning I slipped out as a snake from his deciduous epidermis, and prepared myself for a walk.
The igloo was built at the base of a mountain, and up this I ascended until, reaching its summit, I had a good view of the region around me. I was now where I had long hoped to be. Below, and encircling the island, was a field of ice, making an excellent footway for travel. To the south and the west were the open waters of Frobisher Bay, its surface dotted over with broken ice, which was quietly floating about. This however, just then, was vexatious, as it prevented me from making my intended sledge-journey to the westward. Resolution Island and Meta Incognita were also in sight (the former visible on the horizon, probably by refraction); and at my back the bold mountains seemed all but touching me, though some miles distant.
On the top of the mountain I found many small pieces of lime-stone, and, while collecting some of them, Annawa and two other Innuits joined me. They had come for the purpose of looking out to see if any seals or walrus were near; and when, through my glass, I discovered one, they were off immediately. Soon afterward I perceived them on the ice prepared for the hunt.
After staying on the summit nearly an hour, I descended, and found a substantial Innuit breakfast of walrus-meat and soup ready for me. This breakfast had been prepared by Oonga, wife of Esheeloo, both of whom shared Annawa's igloo. This igloo of Annawa's was adorned on the exterior with a score of walrus skulls and tusks. The family had lived here, as I have already mentioned, for some time alone, but latterly their privacy had been much invaded by some of the ship's company, and by several Innuits from the North Star and upper villages. Among these latter I recognized Miner, with his wife Tweroong, and Artarkparu, brother of Annawa. There was also Puto, the mother of that Anglo-Saxon child before referred to; and Paulooyer (Blind George), whom I noticed facing the sun, as was his way when it shines. He immediately recognized my voice, and gladly greeted me when I hailed him. These, and many more, were domiciled in some half dozen igloos built near Annawa's; but there was also another village, called Twer-puk-ju-a, where several Innuits resided, and to this, after breakfast, I bent my way, taking Koojesse with me.
Before starting, I delivered everything I had, as was customary with the Innuits, into the hands of Nood-le-yong for safe keeping. We then started about nine o'clock, taking a course over the hilly centre of the island. Arriving at the top, I heard a sound filling the air as if something was sweeping by. It was like the rush of many waters, or the groaning of ice far away. I asked Koojesse what it was, and he replied, Meituks (ducks). I thought it could not be possible, but was a whimsical reason given by Innuits for something they know exists, and yet cannot comprehend. I laughed, shrugged my shoulders, and then passed on.
We arrived at the other village after a walk of about three miles, and there I met Mr. Sterry, the George Henry's carpenter.
BLIND GEORGE AND HIS DAUGHTER.
He was suffering from snow-blindness, brought on by exposure upon the ice while out with a party of Innuits walrus hunting. He had obtained leave of absence from his duties on board, and was now living with the natives, "keeping house" (igloo) as though he was of the country.
Together we went on a hill to watch the movements of the Innuit Miner, who, with a gun, was sealing. We saw him working his way almost imperceptibly along in his ki-a through the openings in the ice toward his coveted prey, which rested quietly unconscious of his presence. As Miner approached, he kept up a loud, peculiar noise, a mixture of Innuit singing and bellowing, which seemed to work as a charm upon the seal. Every few moments he would lay down his gun and make a stroke or two with his long, double-bladed oar; then the seal, as if alarmed, would seem about to depart. As soon as the slightest motion indicative of this appeared. Miner would again seize his gun and aim, at the same time vehemently increasing the tones of his seal-song. The seal, thus again charmed, kept quiet, and Miner would once more take to his oars, thus endeavouring gradually to decrease the distance between them. So it occurred for several times, and evidently Miner had great hope of securing a good prize, but suddenly, and when the hunter was almost as near as he desired to be, the seal broke away from the "soothing voice of the charmer," raised its head, made a plunge, and, before Miner could fire, disappeared. Then came upon our ears, as we looked and listened, the loud, peculiar ejaculation of disappointment, E-e-e-ŭk! and no wonder, for the poor hunter lost by it about half a ton of fresh provisions. I, too, owing to the interest I felt, was also nigh having a loss, which, though not so important as his, was one which I did not then wish to experience. A meridional observation on the ice with my pocket sextant was secured only just in time to save it.
I continued my walk, and ascended a mountain close by, picking up fossil stones on its summit, and enjoying the view around me. Soon I was joined by the Innuits Kokerjabin (Kudlago's widow) and Neitch-ee-yong, both of whom were born on the shores of the great bay before us. Kokerjabin pointed out to me the place of her nativity, on the opposite side of the bay, called by her Kar-mo-wong, an inlet which makes its way up into the interior of Kingaite (Meta Incognita). She said that from a high point at the termination of that inlet she had often seen the oomiens of kodlunas (ships of the white men) pass up, and then, at a later time, down the waters which were on the other side of Kingaite. This made Kingaite to be merely a narrow tongue of land, the extreme of which, as Kokerjabin stated it to be, I could see bearing from me by azimuth compass 102°, or true bearing S. 16° W. Karmowong bore S. 51° W. true. I took several other observations and measurements the next and following days, for the purpose of mapping the locality and accurately placing upon record all that I might discover bearing upon Frobisher's expedition. My sleeping accommodations at night were with the natives in their igloo, and I partook of their food, eating even as they themselves did, and, I might add, thoroughly enjoying it.
Thus two days passed away, and on the third, which was April 25th, I again started for an extension of my trip.
It was about noon when I left, accompanied by Sterry, Kokerjabin, and her son "Captain." This youth of twelve years would insist upon taking with him a toy sledge, to which "Pink," a little dog of a few months old, was harnessed, and, as he made it a point to have the sledge, I was obliged to let it be taken with us.
Our first five miles was circuitous, though on a general course (true) of about W.N.W. From the breaking up and consequent absence of the sea-ice, which had occurred two days before my arrival, we were obliged to follow the shore-ice, walking on what Dr. Kane called the "ice-foot." Thus we were one moment this way, the next that, and sometimes walking on shore. This made it very difficult to get on, especially as the tide at that time rose and fell full thirty feet; and, besides, the frequent change from ice to land was no easy work.
When we had gone about four miles, an old Innuit man was seen with his gun quietly seated on the rocks overlooking the bay and watching for seals. A few words of greeting were exchanged, and I then looked around the place. I noticed that here and there was quite a level spot of ground for these regions; and what more particularly attracted my attention was a complete natural breakwater of stones, evidently thrown up by the heavy seas. The side next the sea was sloping at an angle of 40°, and that facing the flat of land, which it protected, about 50°. The stones were of every variety of shape, though not much worn, and weighing from one to twenty-five pounds.
On this flat portion of land I perceived many signs of its having been the frequent resort of Innuits during the summer months—circles of stones for keeping down the skins which form their tents; bones of walrus and reindeer were also numerous. Here, too, I saw, to my surprise, ship's blocks, iron hoops two and a half inches wide, part of a coffee-pot, preserved meat canisters, an oaken bucket in good order, and several pieces of wood, all, as I afterward conjectured, formerly belonging to the "Traveller," an English whaling vessel, lost three years previous near "Bear Sound," about thirty miles nearer the sea.
It was at this place we lunched, and had the pleasure of finding abundance of water on the rocks to quench our thirst. Here, on a point of land called by the Innuits Evictoon, was a native monument such as they usually erect on prominent places.
As we were about to resume our march, two seals were discovered in the sun near some cracked ice. Immediately the old man started off to try his rusty gun upon them, at first stumbling hurriedly over some broken ice that intervened, and then proceeding very cautiously. When within forty rods he lay down upon his front, and kneed, footed, and bellied himself along, not unlike the movements of the seals he was after. But, as in Miner's case, a moment afterward his prey, taking the alarm, rose up, and with a plunge instantly disappeared. The old man jumped up, crying aloud E-e-e-ŭk! and walked on.
As we travelled forward the mountains of Kingaite loomed up in magnificent grandeur, and, on looking at them, something struck me as it had done when first viewing the place in August, 1860, that more than mere land existed there. It seemed as if a huge ice ridge ran along parallel with the coast, uniting mountain with mountain and peak with peak. Seeing how intent I was upon this, Kokerjabin readily answered my inquiry as to what it really was. In reply, she said "it was solid ice, and never had she known it to change its appearance, either in summer or fall."
This was enough. I immediately concluded that there were glaciers over there, and certainly the one I then looked at appeared to be not less than fifteen to twenty miles long. But, as I afterward visited the locality, I shall reserve farther mention of them till I come to another part of my narrative.
About dusk we reached the south point of the island Nouyarn,[1] where we had expected to find an Innuit village, the place of our intended visit. But, to our disappointment and vexation, the settlement was not there. Within two hundred fathoms of the shore we saw sledge-tracks leading from the land out into the bay, and thence northward and westward. Here, also on the ice, we saw two double-barrelled guns standing up in the snow, and an Esquimaux lamp; but not a human being besides ourselves was there. We knew not what to do. Dark and cold, we should undoubtedly suffer much if unable to get shelter. What could we do? We might, for a while, follow the sledge-tracks, but not long, as the darkness was upon us. Eight o'clock, and we had neither shelter, food, nor light. Even to keep warmth in us for a moment, it was necessary to be in action, or the chances were we should freeze; and to remain so all night, we might perish. Sterry proposed that we should return to the igloos we had left in the morning, but to this Kokerjabin and myself objected. The best thing we could do, as I thought, was to follow the tracks, and, if not meeting with Innuits, build an igloo and make the best of it. This was agreed to, and again we started forward, Kokerjabin leading the way, which she did most admirably, guiding us here and there among numerous inlets, without once being in the wrong or confused.
The moon had now risen from her sea-bed, but looked as if guilty of some wicked act, being both horribly distorted and red in the face! But the higher up she got, the better was her appearance, and the greater was her usefulness to us night-travellers. At length, about half-past ten, and when we had gone some three miles farther, Kokerjabin brought us to a small island called An-nu-ar-tung, where she expected to find the Innuits.
We listened; we strained our eyes for an igloo light, but in vain; not a sound, not a glimmer of anything we had hoped for met our ears or our eyes. Still, we determined to be thoroughly convinced, and accordingly tried to get on shore. This, however, even in daylight, would have been a difficult task where there was so great a rise and fall in the tide as thirty feet, but at night we found it a terrible job. At last it was accomplished; and looking about for the igloos, and meeting with none, it was finally settled that we should have some supper before trying anything more.
Our stock of food consisted of a small piece of "salt-junk" and some few pieces of hard bread, all of which I had brought from the vessel with me; nevertheless, every mouthful we took was delicious to our hungry appetites. But the thirst! how could we quench it? We had nothing by which to make snow-water, and we had vainly searched the rocks around for some. Every particle was firmly locked up in the fingers of zero cold. "Thirst, most thirsty!" we had to say, and, in sooth, to remain thirsty.
The next thing we did was to build an igloo, where, at all events, something like shelter could be obtained, and warmth by clustering together. Four human stoves, besides as many heating, smoking tobacco-pipes, would help to make us passably comfortable; and so we found.
Kokerjabin, the master-mason, aided by Sterry, built the igloo out of a snow-bank which faced a ledge of rocks running lengthwise of the island—under the lee of which, fortunately, it was—while I and the Innuit boy went upon the higher part of the land seeking for water. The igloo completed, on lying down we found that it was too limited, and that we should be inconveniently and perhaps injuriously cramped; therefore a remedy must be found, and this was by cutting "pigeon-holes" in the snow-bank for our feet. This answered, and soon we were fast asleep, though upon a bed of snow, and at my back a snow-bank.
Toward morning I felt myself getting very cold, and, to warm us up, it was judged wise for all to smoke, which was done most agreeably. I then cut a doorway, and crawled out of the igloo on all-fours. The wind was fresh and piercing from the east, and, to get some circulation in our veins, Sterry and I made a run to the top of a hill. There we had a good look around, and then descended, but on arriving at the igloo we found Kokerjabin and her son gone. We therefore followed in their tracks, and soon overtook them on the highest point of the island. Presently Kokerjabin discovered, through the glass, some igloos on an island farther on. To these we immediately determined to bend our steps, more especially as Kokerjabin said she knew the island well, and had often resided there. It was called Ak-koo-wie-shut-too-ping.[2] One hour's walk across the ice brought us close to it. Ice boulders, however, always between the sea-ice and the "ice-foot," gave us the usual trouble in getting on shore; but, this over, we soon found ourselves, to my great joy, among familiar faces. The first I saw was Sampson, who, taking me kindly by the hand, squeezed it, hugged it, patted it, and then led me into his igloo.
It was an early hour for them, and his family were still in bed, yet they all arose and heartily welcomed me. Food, and especially water, was plentifully put before me, and I need not say how gratefully I partook of both. Four large igloos were there, each occupied by two families. The bay being partially frozen over, the men were preparing to start on a grand sealing excursion toward Kingaite, which here seemed to be only about twenty-five miles off. Two of the women accompanied this party, and before they left I arranged with Sampson to stay in his igloo until he returned. His wife was sick, and with her two daughters she remained to "keep house."
Sampson and his party started about 8 a.m. on Thursday, April 25th, and at noon a snow-storm raged so furiously that some fears were entertained for their safety; but they returned in the afternoon, having captured one fine seal. A feast, as usual, followed; and here I noticed for the first time an Innuit custom of giving to the youngest child the seal's eyes. That night, while in bed, I received a rather unwelcome visitor in the following way.
It has been justly said that "knowledge is often pursued under difficulties," but in my case the knowledge I desired came to me instead of my seeking it.
I was desirous of making myself acquainted with the tides in that region, and took every opportunity to investigate the subject; but, on the night in question, between seven and eight o'clock, the tide came pouring into the igloo, threatening destruction to all within it. The full moon, by Greenwich time, was, April 24th, 10h. 23m. and, consequently, the highest rise of the tide would here be some forty hours after. I had watched for it during some time, and finally retired to my tuktoo furs, little expecting it would show itself to me by my bedside in the way it did; but such a proof was enough. From it I ascertained that the rise of tide at full and change was thirty feet. Fortunately, the tidal flow and abrupt inundation produced no serious damage, though it gave work to the females of the igloo, who hurriedly secured the fur dresses and other valuables from the salt water.
It was strange to me to see them cleaning or currying the seal-skins. The mouth of the female currier served as a deposit for all the scrapings, and the tongue was kept in constant requisition to keep free the scraper, a dish being by to receive the contents of the mouth when full.
The scrapings of board, hands, &c. all went first to the mouth, then to the dish, and thence to the dogs!
The storm continued during the following day, and I remained where I was, studying more and more the habits of this strange people, and endeavouring to give some elementary instruction to the children.
Our breakfast and dinner were both excellent; for the former, raw frozen walrus, of which I had a piece for my share of about five pounds, and at the latter, seal. The portion of this allotted to me and Sterry was the head. We complied with the Innuit custom. Sterry took a mouthful, then passed it to me, and when I had done the same it was returned to him, and so on. Of course fingers were all in all. No knives and forks are found among the Innuits; fingers and teeth are more than their equivalent.
When the meat, skin, and hair were all despatched—even the eyes, except the balls, which were given to the youngest child of Sampson—we "tapped" the brain. I was surprised at the amount of a seal's brains, and equally so at the deliciousness of them! The skull was almost as thin as paper. Shoot a seal in the head and it dies. Shoot a walrus in the head, and the damage is to the ball, which immediately flattens, without effecting any injury whatever to the walrus.
Later in the day I attended another feast in the igloo of Kookin, who had invited his old mother, Shel-lu-ar-ping, and two other venerable dames, and I must say that if my friends at home could then have seen how like an Innuit I ate, they would have blushed for me.
First came a portion of seal's liver, raw and warm from its late existence in full life. This, with a slice of ooksook (blubber), was handed to each, and I made away with mine as quick as any of the old adepts. Then came ribs inclosed in tender meat, dripping with blood. How ambrosial to my palate! Lastly came—what? Entrails, which the old lady drew through her fingers yards in length. This was served to every one but me in pieces of two to three feet long. I saw at once that it was supposed I would not like to eat this delicacy; but, having partaken of it before, I signified my wish to do so now; for, be it remembered, there is no part of a seal but is good: I drew the ribbon-like food through my teeth Innuit fashion; finished it, and then asked for more This immensely pleased the old dames. They were in ecstasies. It seemed as if they thought me the best of the group. They laughed—they bestowed upon me all the most pleasant epithets their language would permit. I was one of them—one of the honoured few!
Soon as this round of feasting was ended, one of the old lady Innuits drew my attention to her afflictions. She had a dreadful pain in her side and back, and had been badly troubled for weeks. Before I had time for thought, she drew off her long-tailed coat over her head, and sat there before me nude as Nature made her. The laughing face and the joyful, ringing voice of the old lady were now exchanged for expressions indicative of suffering and the need of sympathy. The whole party present were now absorbed in the subject before me. I put on as long and dignified a face as I could in this trying scene, and, as much was evidently expected from me, I was determined no disappointment should follow. Therefore I proceeded to manipulate the parts affected, or, rather plowed my fingers in the rich loam—real estate—that covered the ailing places. The result was that I gave notice that she should live on, eating as much fresh seal and walrus as she wanted, drinking water several times a day, and applying the same amount at the end of every ten days that she had drank in that time to the outside of her body by the process of scrubbing, which I there and then practically explained to her and the others. I told her, moreover, that as the suk-e-neir (sun) was day by day getting higher and higher, she must keep herself warm and dry, and then, in my opinion, she would soon be quite relieved.
So caressingly did I finger the old lady's side during the delivery of my impromptu advice, that she declared I was the best angeko she had known, and positively she felt much better already. Placing on her coat, she then jumped up and ran away to her own igloo, as lively as a cricket.
During the time I was stopping in Sampson's igloo I made every inquiry possible about the tradition concerning ships entering the bay a long time ago; but I was unable, from my then slender knowledge of their language, to get intelligible answers. Therefore I had still to remain patient about it.
The following day, Saturday, April 27th, we commenced our return; but it was cold and stormy, and, as I had left some of my fur dress at Annawa's, I sought to borrow reindeer trousers, mits, and socks there. These I readily obtained; but the first-mentioned article being too small for my dimensions, one of the Innuit women slit them down with her oodloo till they did fit, after a fashion. But, on attempting to move, I was as if in a vice. I could not walk, I could not run, nor could I seat myself; I could only waddle and tumble down! On the ice in front of the igloos I tried to get on, but you, my reader, should have been there to have seen and enjoyed the sight I presented, and to have heard the ringing, side-splitting laughter of this generous-hearted and kind band of Innuits at the grotesque figure I cut in old Seko's skin-tight breeches. A sledge drawn by dogs had been loaned to us, and upon this I threw myself; but, long after our departure, on my looking back, I could see the merry lot still watching, and apparently enjoying the fun I had created.
Our sledge went fast, the dogs being good ones, with an excellent Innuit driver, Ning-u-ar-ping, the son of Sampson and Kokerjabin. On the smooth clear ice, which extended from Sampson's village to where we had first halted on our way up, our progress was very rapid. As we passed the island where we had spent the night before meeting the Innuits, I saw our igloo still standing. A little farther on, I observed to the north a peculiar mark—the work of Nature—by the west side of the entrance to Newton's Fiord, standing out boldly upon one of the mountains. On inquiry, I found it was considered by the natives as a remarkable spot, known to them from time immemorial. It was called Ing-ee, Whoever would know what this means, let him confidentially ask an Esquimaux man.
After some miles' travel we came to a dépôt of walrus flesh, made by Sampson's people on a previous occasion; and here, after loading from it, the sledge left us on its return.
Sterry and I, Kokerjabin and Captain, then walked on, and, after a tedious journey of about fifty miles—though direct only some twenty from the village—we arrived at Twerpukjua at 9 p.m. so thoroughly fatigued as to be right glad of the friendly beds immediately offered us.
Next morning I arose much refreshed, and took a walk on the neighbouring hill. The ice had before parted and left the bay almost free, but I was greatly astonished at the immense number of ducks I saw swimming about. For miles and miles around the waters were literally covered and black with them, making such a thundering, indescribable medley of sounds as quite startled me. Talk about the "absence of life" in these regions of ice and snow! Why, before my eyes were countless numbers of animated creatures, from the winged fowl of the sea to the seal and walrus!
What do all these creatures live upon? Why are they here? The waters must be alive with other innumerable creatures! Soon "great whales " will be here, and for what? Is there food for them here too?
At 9 a.m. I left Twerpukjua, and directed my way to Annawa's, at the island of Oopungnewing, where I arrived in due course, and was kindly welcomed as usual. Noodleyong was busy sewing skins together for making the summer tupic or tent, and Annawa, with other men, were out sealing. In the afternoon these latter returned, and we had the customary feast in the open air.
It was Sunday, and I could not help thoughtfully looking upon the scene before me. There was the snow village of pure white igloos, with their wad-lings and took-soos embellished by trophies of the walrus hunts. A score of laughing, happy, untutored, uncivilized, and "unchristianized" sons and daughters of the North were around or near me. There was a group on my right commencing the feast; three women, that had been out gathering kelp (seaweed) as an article of food, coming up from the beach; Annawa and his sealing company drawing up their kias on the floe-ice seaward; open water near by covered with ducks: Blind George standing in front of Bob's igloo, facing and welcoming the sun's warm rays; a number of boys drawing another captured seal across the 
IG-LOOS OR SNOW VILLAGE AT OOPUNGNEWING.
The next morning, April 29th, accompanied by Esheeloo and his wife Oonga, I started on foot for the ship in Rescue Harbour, a distance of about twenty miles.
Part of the way was over broken ice, and this made the journey both tedious and difficult. At noon we were at the foot of Bayard Taylor Pass leading to Field Bay, and after a lunch we walked on over the land, stopping a moment at the half-way station for a drink of delicious water, and arrived on the other side at 4 p.m.
Field Bay had firm ice upon it, and over this we travelled as rapidly as we could, finally reaching the ship at 8 p.m. having been just twelve hours on the way.
OOD-LOO, OR WOMAN'S KNIFE.
The illustration one-third the size of the original.
In the hands of an Esquimaux woman, this simple instrument, made of bone and iron (the arc simply edged with iron), is equivalent to the knife, hatchet, scraper, and shears of civilization.