Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 2/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
Sick Mam-ma-yat-che-ung immured in a living Tomb!—The dying Woman lingers for Weeks, almost starving—The Aurora Borealis—A Magnificent Display—Strange Custom relating to New Mothers—Nukertou's Grave—A Talk with the Dead—Presents to the Departed—Life in the Winter—Theatricals on Board—Henry Smith, the "Negress"—Consternation of some of the Innuits on seeing a Black Face—Another Excursion—A Winter Sledge-journey—Old Mother Petato—Novel Mode of warming the Feet—Deer's Paunch considered delicious Food—Visit Tikkoon—Tradition of a Ship built and masted.
I begin this chapter with the sketch from my diary of a sad scene which passed under my observation:—
"October 28th, 1861.—This morning, or during the night, 'Mam-ma-yat-che-ung,' 'Mary,' the wife of 'Sharkey,' died. This Innuit woman has long been an invalid. Her disease was consumption, one that is carrying off more Innuits than all other diseases together. Some months ago it was thought she could not survive long; the Innuits gave her up, I may add, as one dead. Her wing-a—husband—Sharkey, though all his previous conduct was kind to her, gave her up as dead. A tupic was made, and into it Mary was removed; it was her living tomb! Sharkey took to himself another wife. For weeks and weeks Mary lived helpless and almost starving. Occasionally some few of the Innuits would carry this dying woman morsels of seal, duck, or walrus. Of course, all that was valuable or convenient for Mary's comfort was taken away when the Innuits carried her to the 'house of her death,' for it is their custom to leave everything in the tupic or igloo where one of their number dies as unfit to be touched ever after. Mary must have died during the night, for when Suzhi called this morning at the tupic with cooked meituk—duck—sent her by Tookoolito, no answer was made, and, on looking in, Suzhi saw that she was dead. Innuit custom will not permit one of that people to enter the place of the dead under such circumstances. One of the Innuits came over to the vessel and announced the death of Mary, and Captain B, with one of the ship's men, went over to bury her. The captain looked in, and saw enough to chill one's heart's blood. The corpse met his view with head erect, and eyes staring at him with the overpowering glare of death! The tupic became her winding-sheet, and stones were piled over her—her only monument."
AURORA, AS SEEN FROM FIELD BAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1861.
On November 2d, at 6 p.m. there was another magnificent display of the aurora. From east to west—south of us—was a beautiful arch of living gold. The eastern base rested, to all appearance, on the high land, as did also the western, and the centre of the arch was 10° above the horizon south.
The wind was blowing strong, and the aurora truly appeared as possessing life. It danced to and fro from one extreme to the other. Its colours rivalled the rainbow, the pea-green predominating over the other hues. At the east a bank of golden rays shot up far above all the rest. The stars were obscured as the "merrie dancers" swept along in piles of coruscations. The arch continued to recede, falling lower and lower; the reverse is the usual course of the aurora, as far as my observation has extended. Not a cloud could be seen.
At 7.30 p.m. the aurora was lifting its arches zenithward; there were now two reaching from east to west, and for some portion of the way there were three. The wind was blowing almost a gale, the thermometer being 6° above zero. The stronger the breeze, the more beautiful was the aurora, the brisker its races and dancings, and the more glowing its colours. I find in my diary the following entry with reference to this sublime spectacle:—
"I wish all my friends in the States could witness the aurora as seen in these regions. I am sure, on beholding it as now seen, they would clap their hands and sing, 'Praise to God, for He hath surrounded us with the heavens full of glory!'
"Never shall I forget when, last winter, Captain B, Mate Gardiner, and myself were on deck, witnessing one of the rare displays just described. In truth, we did tremble, Captain B exclaiming, 'I never wish to behold the like again.' And so I felt."
I accompany this description and illustration with a picture of a still more remarkable display which occurred on the evening of October 13th, 1860, one feature connected with which was a meteor of great brilliancy; it shot from a point in the heavens near Cassiopeia, crossing Ursa Minor, and losing itself among the folds of Draco. It was followed by a trail of light twenty degrees in length.
On November 4th I visited Ebierbing and Tookoolito. During my stay the latter informed me that she had to make calls the next day in all the tupics, and perhaps at the ship. On my asking the reason, she answered that her infant would 
AURORA AND METEOR OF OCTOBER 13, 1860.
be two months old, and that it was the custom—the first Innuits having done so—for the mother to call at every tupic of the village at the end of the period mentioned. During these two months Tookoolito had not been into any tupic except her own. She added that, in accordance with custom, she should cast away all the clothing she then had on, and should never touch it again.
Some time after I was informed that the grave of Nukertou had been visited by Innuits, according to another of their singular customs. They took down small pieces of tuktoo skin with the fur on, and of toodnoo. When there, they stood around her grave, upon which they placed the articles they had brought. Then one of them stepped up, took a piece of the tuktoo, cut a slice and ate it, at the same time cutting off another slice and placing it under a stone by the grave. Then the knife was passed from one hand to the other, both hands being thrown behind the person. This form of shifting the implement was continued for perhaps a minute, the motions being accompanied by constant talk with the dead. Then a piece of tuktoo fur and some toodnoo were placed under the stone, with an exclamation signifying, "Here, Nukertou, is something to eat and something to keep you warm." Each of the Innuits also went through the same forms.
I was told by Tookoolito that this strange custom was invariably practised among the Innuits. But they never visit the grave of a departed friend until some months after death, and even then only when all the surviving members of the family have removed to another place. Whenever they return to the vicinity of their kindred's grave, a visit is made to it with the best of food as presents to the departed one. Neither seal, Ninoo, nor walrus, however, is taken.
At the time of this visit but little remained of Nukertou's body; there were a few bones and some hair, but the hungry dogs, during the previous winter, had broken into the snow-tomb and eaten away all her flesh.
On November 23d the Innuits began to build their igloos, or winter habitations, in the place of their summer tents. On the 25th a great many of the natives came on board to pass the evening with our foremast hands. They spent some time in singing and dancing to whistling and the music of an instrument called the "keeloun."[1] The sport served an excellent
PLAYING THE "KEELOUN."
purpose in keeping all in good spirits and helping to pass away the long night.
The following night, November 26th, "theatrical" performances took place on board the George Henry. The cabin was filled to its utmost capacity with Innuits and the ship's crew. "Jim Crow," the son of Artarkparu, occupied the centre of the cabin, and was performing on the "keeloun," while the other Innuits were seated all around, the female portion singing to the music. I made my way to the little after cabin, and there seated myself so as to have a full view of what was going on.
The keeloun was accompanied by a tambourine made by Mr. Lamb. Another instrument was a triangle, a steel square pendent from a tow string, and struck with an iron spoon. The keeloun was played in turn by Annawa, Ooksin, Koojesse, and young Smith, à la negro! While Annawa was going through the "sweating" process, playing the instrument and dancing the ridiculously wild figures that are indispensable, according to Innuit ideas, his music being accompanied by a full chorus of native female voices, there came bouncing into the very midst a strapping negress, setting the whole house in a roar of laughter. It was young Smith dressed in this character. The tambourine was passed into his hands, and he soon did full justice to the instrument, his or her sable fists soon knocking a hole through the whale's liver skin with which it was covered.
When Smith first entered some of the Innuit women were much frightened. Jennie, the angeko, was seated near me, and she tried to put as great a distance as possible between herself and the negress, believing the apparition to be an evil spirit. But all shortly became reconciled to the stranger, especially when Smith resumed his place, playing and shouting, Innuit-like, and making so much fun that all our sides ached with laughter. Even the singing women were obliged occasionally to give way and join in the merriment.
The negress was next called on to act as drummer. Ooksin held the keeloun while she performed "Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia," and other pieces, with admirable skill and effect, using two iron spoons for drum-sticks. The finale was a dance by two Innuit ladies and two of the ship's crew, the music being furnished by Bailey with his "viddle."
At the early hour of half-past six the performances closed, all concerned being highly pleased with the enjoyments of the evening. "A hearty laugh is as good as a feast." The number of Innuit guests exceeded fifty; many of the ladies were ornamented in the height of fashion among the arctic aristocracy. The brightly glittering head-bands, and the pendents of variegated beads which hung from each side of their hair, made the assembly look quite theatre-like. Tookoolito was present with her infant, as were many other ladies with similar organs of melody at their backs.
On the 28th of November we celebrated Thanksgiving Day to the best of our ability. It is true, we had no turkeys, roast beef, or onions; but yet we had something extra—something besides whale, salt junk, salt pork, and hard bread. It was a sea-pie of foxes. The arctic fox is a very pretty species, and is killed in considerable numbers by the Innuits for its flesh and its fine white fur.
The time wore on without many incidents especially worthy of note till the 10th of December. I must, however, mention one scene which was deeply interesting. Captain B and several of the aft hands were in the main cabin, where were also Shevikoo, Koojesse, and other Innuits. The captain had a way of his own in occasionally breaking out in strong, unmistakable terms against that northern country. While speaking of it on the evening referred to, he said, "Koojesse, what do you have such a cold, bleak, barren, mountainous, rocky, icy, stormy, freezing country here for, unfit for a white man or any one else to live in?" It was at once noticed that the Innuit Shevikoo was bathed in tears, and such of the other Innuits as comprehended the words of Captain B seemed much hurt. How true that every one likes his own country best. Shevikoo was one of the noblest of his people; he could not repress the flood of tears that burst forth on hearing his native land thus spoken of.
As soon as it was fairly decided that the George Henry must remain imbedded in the ice through another winter, I determined to make, as soon as possible, a sledge journey up Frobisher Bay for the purpose of effecting a complete exploration of every bay and inlet in those waters, and also of investigating still more closely the matters connected with the Countess of Warwick's Sound. Previous to this, however, it became necessary for me to make a shorter trip to Jones's Cape, in order to obtain reindeer skins by trading with the natives; these I wanted for bedding and winter dresses for myself and for Ebierbing and Tookoolito, and to bring home with me to the United States.
On Tuesday, December 10th, I went over to Ebierbing's tupic to see him about going on this excursion with me. While talking with Tookoolito I asked her to go with me to see the old Innuit whose name is Kar-ping, for I wanted to talk with him. Before we started there came into the tupic a young Innuit with Tookoolito's infant, its whole length stuck into the leg of a pair of tuktoo kodlings—breeches. The fur turned inside made a warm envelope for the body of the child, otherwise naked, except for a tuktoo cap and jacket. Tookoolito then sent the young man who brought the infant for old Karping, who soon came in. He had quite a stock of gray whiskers and mustache, and I should think he was from sixty-five to seventy years old.
Tookoolito acted as my interpreter, and I cautioned her not to assist the old man by any remarks of her own. I first asked, "Have you ever heard of a place called Kodlunarn?" He replied, "I have. It is a small island, and near Oopungnewing." "Why is it called Kodlunarn?" "Because white men lived there, and built oo-mi-ark-chu-a"—ship. "Did you see the kodlunas who lived on Kodlunarn and built ship there?" Raising up his eyes, with wonder pictured in them, at the question, he said "Argi."
He then proceeded to say that it was a long time before he was born; he knew nothing about it but what his old father and mother told him. I asked him how the white men could build a ship in the Innuit country where trees did not grow, where there was no wood, no iron, no materials of any sort. I told Tookoolito to say to him that it sounded very strange to me to hear about ship-building there. Tookoolito smiled, and did as requested. The old Innuit smiled also, and then proceeded to explain how it was, saying that the ship was built out of material carried there by kodlunas. I then asked him if there was any thing on Kodlunarn now that the kodlunas who built the ship left there. The old man answered:—
"Ar-me-larng, amasuadlo!" (Yes, a great many.) "What were they?" "Little red pieces" of something; he didn't know what they were. "Anything else?" "Yes, little black pieces, a great many;" he didn't know what they were for. There was nothing like them in the Innuit country; but these black things were on Niountelik, not on Kodlunarn. I then asked if he had seen anything else. At first he said he had not, but, on thinking a while, he said he had seen "heavy stone"—one small one at Tikkoon, one large one, he thought, on Oopungnewing. The last he saw four years before, and he said the Innuits used to try their strength in lifting it. He could lift it as high as his knees, but no higher.
I asked him if any one could see the place where the kodlunas built the ship. He replied, "Yes;" and then proceeded to show what kind of a place it was. A snow-block was in the bottom of the igloo, having been brought in for making snow-water. I told Tookoolito to have him take a snow-knife, and show us what kind of a place the ship was built in. The old man took the snow-knife and commenced trimming the block, and then preceeded to chip out a trench, comparatively wide, and deep at the edge, but shallow and narrow at its termination. He then swept his knife around the block of snow to represent the location of the trench in the island. I asked what was the character of the land where they dug the trench. As I asked this question, I put my finger at the bottom of the model trench before us. The answer astonished me, it being the very reverse of what I expected, for I knew the bottom of the excavation of Kodlunarn to be of stone. The old man's answer was that it was soft. By this I understood him to mean that it was like sand or loam; but to a repetition of the question, he answered, "Soft—very soft—same as wood all falling in pieces; the tarrio—sea—came up into the trench where the wood was."
Here was a deeply-interesting fact unexpectedly disentombed. I had previously found at Kodlunarn several pieces of wood at the bottom of this trench, the larger portion of it being of the character described by this old Innuit. It was beneath stone that had fallen from the bank, the top of the stick being dry, while the base was imbedded firmly in rocks and sand. The old Innuit said that a good deal of something soft (wood) used to be in the bottom of the trench. (Manuscript records of Frobisher's expedition now in the British Museum, but seen by me only since my return, show that quantities of timber, carried out for the purpose of building a fort, were buried at the bottom of one of his mines.)
Being questioned farther, the old man said that only three men built the ship; the others stood around "all same as captains." The Innuits did not help make the ship, but they helped the kodlunas get the ship down into tarrio.
On December 15th, the thermometer being 20° below zero, the wind light from the northwest, the weather a little cloudy, I took an early breakfast of whale-steaks and coffee, and at 5.45 a.m. was on my sledge, to which were harnessed eight dogs, the place of my destination being Jones's Cape. I had with me my Innuit dog-driver "Kooksmith" and young Smith. Shortly after starting, and upon getting into some snow saturated with sea-water, a surprising phenomenon was seen. When the dogs put their feet into the snow and water, it was like stepping into a flood of molten gold, and the phosphorescent light thus produced was not confined to the space beneath the dogs and the sledge, but spread itself around, and continued for several seconds.
In an hour and twenty minutes we crossed the bay, and reached the land on the other side; in an hour more we were at the crest of Bayard Taylor Pass, and in less than another hour had safely accomplished the steep descent, and were on the smooth ice of Lincoln Bay, an arm of the Countess of Warwick's Sound. After lunching on frozen black skin, we pursued our journey, and arrived at Oopungnewing at 1 p.m. There I made a fruitless search for the anvil, and in an hour resumed our trip. At 8.10 p.m. we reached Jones's Cape, having travelled thirty-five miles, and were soon greeted by the familiar voices of many Innuits we knew. Among them were Sampson and his family, and I was speedily located in their hospitable abode.
That night I slept closely packed among seven of the Innuits, the little girl Puk-e-ney-er being on one side of me, and her uncle on the other. On rising, I took two ounces of whale skin for my breakfast—I would gladly have eaten two pounds could I have had it—and soon afterward started for the head of Peter Force's Sound, where some more igloos of the natives were situated. Arriving there at noon, I directed my steps to the igloo of Oo-soo-kar-loo, whom I had seen the night before at Sampson's. I was met and kindly welcomed by his wife, quickly finding myself at home. I now quote from my diary:—
"Monday, December 16th, 1861. * * * * After a few words of greeting and gladness from her, I commenced taking off my feet gear, for the object of holding my almost frozen feet over the ikkumer. I had just removed my kumings as in came a very venerable Innuit woman, whom I remembered having seen several times before, but whose name I could not call to mind; but I passed the compliments of the day by saying, 'As-shu-e-tid-ley?' (Are you well?) To which she replied, 'Ter-boy-ou-loo' (very well). I was seated on the tuktoo bed, and commenced at once to move on one side to make room for the old lady. But she signified to me to keep my seat, at the same time picking up the snow-shovel (pwa-kin), which is a small pine board with handle, placing it near my feet, and seating herself on it. The old lady, seeing me engaged in extricating my feet from their gear, put forth her hands, and drew off my double set of native socks and tuktoo stockings. She did not stop here, though I assured her that would do. I had on, next my feet, civilization stockings, and intended keeping them on; but Pe-ta-to—for this is the name of the warm-hearted old mother—grasped first one foot and then the other, stripping each bare! Quick as thought she lifted up the double flaps of the front of her tuktoo jacket, and as quickly placed my ik-ke is-si-kars (cold feet) flatly upon her body, and against a breast whereon has fed as
THE HEIGHT OF HOSPITALITY.
robust and persevering a generation of Innuits as ever honoured this Northern land.
"This act of Petato's, represented in the preceding engraving, is considered by the natives the very beau ideal of genuine hospitality. Knowing this to be the custom of this people, and believing in the old saw that 'when you are in Rome you must do as the Romans do,' my heart leaped with gratitude for this kindly deed of good old Petato. My feet must have been like lumps of ice, and yet she quailed not at their contact with her calorific body.
"While warming my feet in the peculiar mode written of, I told Smith and the Innuit Kooksmith that I wished to have a conversation with Petato relative to Kodlunarn, Oopungnewing, and Niountelik, and of white people, &c. &c.
"I asked Petato if she knew 'heavy stone.' Asked if she ever 'sat down' [that is, made her home] on Kodlunarn. To which she answered 'Ar-me-larng' (Yes). Then I asked, 'Shoo Innuits pil-e-tay nu-na Innuit ar-ting-a nar-me?'[2] (Why did not the Innuits give to that island an Innuit name?) 'Shoo Innuits pil-e-tay kod-lu-narn ar-ting-a?' (Why did Innuits give white man's name to it?) Old Petato proceeded to answer these two questions thus:—
"'Am-a-su-it oo-mi-ark-chu-a ki-ete wich-ou! wich-ou! wich-ou! Wong-nuk ki-ete sal-e-koo oo-mi-ark-chu-a' (A long, long, long, long time ago, a great many ships came here. A northerly gale prevailed, and broke—or smashed—some of the ships). That is, then it was that the island was given the name 'Kodlunarn.'
"Following this, I asked the question, 'Ka-chin-ning oo-mi-ark-chu-a sal-e-koo?' (How many ships were destroyed?) Petato answered, 'Shev-e-ming' (She did not know).
"When Petato was attempting to convey to me the many years ago that a great many ships came into this bay, she was truly eloquent. When pronouncing the word 'wich-ou' and repeating it, which she did the several times indicated, she lifted her hands to each side of her head, raising in them handfuls of her gray locks. At the same instant Kooksmith, standing by her side, having caught the spirit of her inspiring thought and eloquence, seized another handful of her venerable hairs, lifting them up too. Then, with increasing emphasis, Petato proceeded, pronouncing wich-ou at first with strong voice, then with louder and louder voice, till the final pronunciation of the word, when her whole soul seemed on fire, her face glorified by the spirit of her earnestness, and, as if attempting to measure infinity, she looked wildly to the right, to the left, then turned her head behind, while her voice burst forth as a thunderbolt, leaving the word wich-ou ringing in my ears still.
"The word 'wich-ou,' in Innuit, has two significations. For instance: suppose I say to an Innuit, 'Ki-ete wong-a' (Come here to me). If he should not be prepared just at the moment, he would say 'Wich-ou' (Wait a while, or I'll come in a short time). In the other signification it refers to time past. For instance: suppose I should ask an Innuit when his people were very numerous here North, he might answer 'Wich-ou' (that is, a long time ago). In this latter sense Petato uses this word.
"Petato proceeded: 'Kod-lu-nas ki-ete in-e-tete nu-na make it am-a-su-it' (White people came and landed on the island, and put things on it in large quantities). The old lady has been much around the ships, and occasionally uses an English word when conversing with those who talk that language. It will be seen that she used to good effect the two words 'make it' in her last sentence.
"She continued: 'Wich-ou kod-lu-nas in-e-tete make it Kod-lu-narn' (After a while white men sat down—made a house or houses on Kodlunarn). She described this house by placing one stone upon another, indicating by some snow placed between that some substance of white colour was between the layers of stone.
"Petato was then asked the question, 'Kis-su kod-lu-nas in-e-tete man-er?' (What is now on the island that kodlunas left there?) She answered that a great many little pieces, red (oug[3]), were on the island, such as Innuits use to clean and brighten their kar-oongs (brass ornaments for the head).
"When Petato was asked 'who told her all about kodlunas coming here, and the many ships that come in this bay,' she answered, 'My mother's grandmother's grandfather knew a good deal about it.' The inference is that Petato's mother told her about it, the grandmother of Petato's mother told her, and the grandfather of Petato's mother's grandmother told said grandmother of it.
"Thus Petato's knowledge is direct from the sixth generation of her family; or, rather, the information I gained was from the sixth generation direct from the day of the aforementioned grandfather.
"I now continue the information conveyed by old Petato, giving the points as they come to mind.
"Kodlunas built a ship on Kodlunarn. She described, by peculiar scooping movements of her hands, the place they dug out in the island in which they made the vessel. She said there were two places dug out in the rocks—one a little distance from where they built the ship, made to catch and hold water (fresh water) for the kodlunas. Innuits all around were kind to the white people; brought them seals, tuktoo, &c. &c.
"They were on Kodlunarn through one winter—that is, while there, wintered there but once. When ice broke up, went away in the ship. After a while come back again. Seko (ice) brought them back. Could not get out. Very cold—great storm. Innuits built them igloos on Kodlunarn, but they all died.
"Petato was about to tell how many kodlunas built the ship and tried to go away. She first raised one hand, opened the fingers and thumb, showing five; thinking a moment, and looking at said fingers and thumb, she finally threw up the other hand, fingers and thumb spread out; then she said she did not recollect whether they were mik-u-ook-oo-loo or am-a-su-ad-lo (few or many)."
After concluding this interview with Petato we returned to Jones's Cape, arriving there at 5 p.m. An hour after my entrance into his igloo, Sampson returned from his trip to a cache of tuktoo, bringing the saddles and carcasses of two deer. As soon as he arrived these were thrown into the igloo; the network over the ikkumer, placed there to receive articles of clothing which need drying, was cleared off, and the frozen masses of tuktoo placed carefully upon it, in order that the outside might lose some of its burning quality; for let it be borne in mind that anything exposed to the cold of the North, if touched with the bare fingers, gives a sensation as if hot iron were handled. Meanwhile invitations were given to the village Innuits for the tuktoo feast about to come off at Sampson's igloo, and soon the guests rushed in. The position of the ladies was, of course, upon the bed platform, and I drew off my boots and took a place among the "fair of creation;" all others of my sex had to take standing seats wherever they could find them down on the snow floor. Fully thirty souls were crammed into our igloo. I was sandwiched between the wife of Koo-kin and the wife of New-watche, the latter being the sister to Sampson's wife.
Sampson was the master of ceremonies; he first made the ladies on the bed give way so as to clear a space whereon he might do the carving; then he placed on this spot the table-cloth, a huge sealskin, and upon that put the carcass of a large deer; he then took a boat hatchet, and began to carve the deer. Slabs of its side were chopped and peeled off; chips of ice flew here and there into the very faces of the guests at each stroke of the axe. As fast as Sampson rolled off the venison other men took the pieces, and by means of a saw and seal-knives reduced them to a size adapted for handling; then Sampson distributed these bits, one to each, till every mill had grist to grind. Thus for half an hour Sampson carved; then his hatchet handle broke off close up to the head. Another axe was sent for, and meanwhile, with the half of a saw, the two saddles were divided into the proper number of pieces, ready for distribution; the carcass was then once more attacked, and the shell was broken, split, and sawed into pieces. In it was the "kernel," to which all looked with anxious eyes; this was at last divided into as many pieces as there were pieces of saddle, and then one of each was given to every guest. I received my share with gratitude, and with a piece in each hand began eating. I bit off a mouthful of the saddle-piece; it was good. I took a morsel of the other; it was delightful; its flavour was a kind of sorrel acid; it had an ambrosial taste! it fairly melted in my mouth! When nearly through, I had the curiosity to crowd my way to a light to see what this delicious frozen food was, for where I sat I was shaded by large forms between me and the fire-light. I looked at it, rolled it over, and looked again. Behold, it was the contents of a reindeer's paunch! On this discovery I stopped feasting for that night.
While the guests were arriving, I was busily writing in my note-book; several Innuits crowded round me, interested in this curious work. I wrote two or three of their names, pointing to the writing and pronouncing the word, as Kop-e-o, Ning-u-ar-ping, Koo-choo-ar-chu; this pleased them much. The call was then raised for me to write my own name, which I did, also pronouncing it. Then "Hall! Hall! Hall!" rung from tongue to tongue through the igloo amid general laughter.
After securing what skins I wanted, I started on my return to the ship on December 18th with the sledge and dogs. A few minutes after passing Kodlunarn we rounded the point of Tikkoon, the place I had visited on the 23d of September. Having passed by this spot and made a short distance, less than a quarter of a mile, "Kooksmith" pointed to a bluff on the main land, saying, "Ki-ete, oo-mi-ark-chu-a Kodlunarn"—that is, the ship came from Kodlunarn to the said place. He then proceeded to say (though I did not fairly understand his meaning at the time), that after the ship was built and launched the kodlunas towed her round to this spot in order to have a good place for raising the masts and, putting them in the vessel. Kooksmith represented by the handle of his whip how they raised one end of the mast up on the bluff by the coast. At the time, as I said above, I did not fully comprehend what he wanted to say, but supposed him to mean that a mast was made there, and then taken round to Kodlunarn; later, as will be seen shortly, the whole force of his description came out.
The most tiresome portion of our day's work was the ascent of the Bayard Taylor Pass. Our load was not heavy, but it required the combined exertions of all to push and pull the sledge up the abrupt mountain's side. We were all tired, the dogs quite so, for they had had nothing to eat since leaving the vessel. The little "camels" of the North—the Innuit dogs—are of inestimable value in that country; when well fed up before starting on a journey, they will do hard work for many days in succession without any food.
When we reached the summit and began our descent, we found still hard and also dangerous work going down with a loaded sledge and a team of dogs. While Smith hung to the rope made fast to the hind part of the sledge, and Kooksmith kept just ahead of the dogs, whipping them back, I had hold of the fore part of the sledge, to guide it and help keep it back. Notwithstanding all our precautions, the sledge occasionally bounded away over snow-drifts, down steep pitches, now and then plunging dogs and men into one general heap. We had an exciting ride indeed going down on the Field Bay side, the dogs springing with all their might to keep ahead of the flying sledge. We reached the ship at 7.20 p.m.
The next morning, December 12th, while writing in the after-cabin, Kooksmith came in, and I made further inquiries relative to the place at Tikkoon before written of in connexion with the ship's mast. He took from the table on which I was writing a small memorandum-book, held it just beneath the edge of the table to represent the ship, then took a pencil, one end of which rested on the book, and the other on the table, slightly inclined. The edge of the table represented the bluff at Tikkoon. Then Kooksmith raised up the pencil, which indicated the mast, and thus all was simply and effectively explained; the vessel, when launched, was taken to the bluff of Tikkoon that the masts could there be raised, and set.
Soon after Kooksmith had gone I called Tweroong into the cabin, and asked her, in Innuit, if she knew the story of the white people taking the ship to Tikkoon from Kodlunarn. Tweroong comprehended my question at once. She immediately took my pen and a tobacco-pipe, then bade me hold a book down by the table's edge, and placed on the book and table, at one end of the former, the pen, and at the other the pipe, both inclining against the table's edge, just as in the illustration shown by Kooksmith. She next raised one of the mimic masts to a perpendicular position, I still holding the book, and then the other. Taking up a pencil, I also raised that, and asked her if there were not three masts. To my question she answered decisively "Argi"—No; adding, "Muk-ko! muk-ko!" meaning Two.
I then recalled to mind a remark made to me by Koojesse the previous winter, when we were passing Oopungnewing at a distance from that bluff; "There," said he, "the place where kodlunas make or put in masts." I thought the remark preposterous at the time, and gave but little attention to it.
Another curious point in connexion with the matter of the ship's masts was this: When conversing with some of the natives after the discoveries above narrated, I learned that the name "Ne-pou-e-tie sup-bing" had been given to the bluff spoken of. On making closer inquiries, I found that this was a phrase coined for the purpose of expressing a certain idea, as was the case with the word Kodlunarn. Its translation is, "To set up masts."
The significance of these discoveries with reference to Frobisher's expedition, and the bearing they had, to my mind, on more recent matters, will be seen by the following extract from my diary at the close of December 19th:—
"How long it does take to gather in all of the links of this chain three hundred years old! I am convinced that were I on King William's Land and Boothia, and could I live there two years, I could gather facts relative to Sir John Franklin's expedition—gather facts from the Innuits—that would astonish the civilized world. How easy to go back a score of years or so, and get truthful history from among the Innuits, compared with what it is to plunge into the history of near three centuries, and draw out the truth! May I live to see the day when I can visit King William's Land and Boothia, and secure the full history, as it must exist among the Innuits there, of that expedition!"
- ↑ The "keeloun" is an instrument made by stretching a thin deerskin, or the skin of the whale's liver, upon a wooden or whalebone hoop about thirty inches in diameter, forming something not very unlike the tambourine known in this country. It is held, however, by a handle, and the player strikes, not the skin, but the hoop, accompanying his music by an uncouth sort of dance.
- ↑ It should be said, with reference to the Esquimaux language as introduced in the text, that, though it could be easily and perfectly comprehended by the Innuits when spoken, and though it can be understood when read to them in its present form by the natives with me in this country, it is nevertheless what we may call "broken," being such as a person would naturally use whose acquaintance with the language is imperfect, as mine necessarily was.
- ↑ Oug really means blood, but the Innuits use this word to signify any thing red when talking with a stranger not well versed in their language.