They were one of a half dozen parties of Danish traders who came north
yearly from Uppernavik to gather the results of the season's hunt.
Their visit meant an untold distribution of wealth among the tribe, for
they brought needles, knives, axes, guns, ammunition, and in return
secured a fortune in furs and ivory tusks. They also doled out tea,
biscuits, matches, tobacco, thread, and gaudy handkerchiefs beloved by
the women. Their coming had not been expected this season because of
the dearth of game.
The men in the boats shouted to one another joyously. Only Ootah felt
a heavy sinking at his heart. He saw the big blond-bearded men
chucking the little women under their chins. Their method of kissing
was strange and repugnant to him. Accustomed only to the chaste
touching of a maiden's face, the kiss of the white men he instinctively
regarded as unnameably unclean. He resented their freedom with the
women. But, children of the heart and brain, primitive, innocent, the
women did not understand the white men's strange behavior. And the
husbands, not comprehending, did not care. A gun, ammunition, a few
boxes of matches--these constituted wealth in value exceeding a wife.
Now and then Ootah saw some of the visitors raising flasks to their
lips. Then their hilarity rang out more boisterously.
When they saw the kayaks approaching the shore the strangers shouted.
The hunters replied. Only Ootah remained silent. Disapproving of the
spectacle, his thoughts were busier elsewhere; his heart glowed.
"Ho, ho, what there?" some called.
"_Aveq soah_," Maisanguaq replied.
"Jolly for you!" shouted a Newfoundland sailor, whom Ootah recognized
as having been in the region with some sportsmen from far away America
several years before.
As they danced the visitors broke into the fragments of a wild sailor's
chorus.
When they had finished, the Newfoundlander, a tall, tough, red-faced
whaler, drank again from his flask and strode to the shore. His bulky
body reeled unsteadily.
"Come on up--bring 'er in--hurry up! Gawd, but you'r' blazin' slow!"
Ootah and his companions landed. Tugging at the leather lines they
drew the walrus one by one from the water to the ice. In these
monstrous palpitating black bodies were tons of food and fuel. Without
wasting time, they fell to their task and dressed the animals.
Meanwhile sleds were brought from the tents and the masses of steaming
meat and blubber were loaded. While the natives were thus busily
engaged, the half-drunken Newfoundlander strode about uttering great
oaths. The strangers' dogs, attracted by the meat, with shrill howling
descended to the ice and surrounded the sled-loads of blubber. Ootah
seized an oar and beat them away.
"What the hell d'ye mean," the Newfoundlander demanded. "Youh'd beat
our dogs? Eh? Get away, damn youh!" He lifted his fist above Ootah.
His face purpled, Ootah raised his lithe body, his muscles quivered
like drawn rubber. His black eyes flashed proud defiance.
"Youh'd fight me, eh?--youh defy me, youh damn candle-suckin' heathen!"
His hand descended. Beyond, the drum beaters ceased, the dancers
turned--a surprised cry went up.
Ootah drew hack, his face flushed. There was a red spot on his cheek
where the white man's fist had struck. He felt a sense of momentary
terror. The white men's methods of fighting were unfamiliar to the
natives. A blow from the fist is a thing unknown among them. Ootah
drew away--the bullying Newfoundlander followed.
"Youh'd beat our dogs, eh? Well, I'll show youh, youh oily,
tallow-eatin' husky!"
He called the dogs, and stooping to the treasured mass of blubber threw
a great mass to the howling animals.
"Ha! ha! ha! guess youh thought youh were smart, eh?" A second team of
dogs, released from their tethering, came wildly dashing shoreward.
The whaler seized another mass of meat and flung it to the animals.
Ootah felt a flush of fierce indignation rise within him. His food for
the winter, whereby he hoped to win Annadoah, that which might keep
away the wolves of starvation, was being wantonly wasted. He saw his
companions cowering at the sight of the white man--he drew himself
erect. He saw the Newfoundlander turn and shout to his companions on
the shore. Ootah thought of the saying, "Strike thy enemy when his
back is turned." He seized a heavy harpoon handle, made of a great
narwhal tusk, and swinging it high struck the Newfoundlander a terrific
blow on the head. He fell senseless to the earth, his face bleeding.
Half stunned he tried to struggle to his feet, but Ootah leaped upon
him, and, as was ethical in the native method of fighting, trampled him
into insensibility. The man lay unconscious, his face bleeding
effusively.
Without a word Ootah continued loading his share of the game onto his
sleds. Attracted by the attack, the other members of the trading party
descended and surrounded the fallen man.
"Nice trick, eh?" laughed one. "Sam got his all right. 'Minds him
right for being so damned fresh." They surveyed Ootah. "Slick little
devil," one said, handing Ootah his gun.
"Take it, son," he said, with maudlin magnanimity. "You've got nerve!"
Ootah smiled bashfully, and shook his head in quiet refusal.
The half-drunken traders, laughing at what they considered a clever
trick, carried their companion into one of the tents and poured brandy
into his mouth. Then they left him lying alone, half sodden, and
returned to the shore. Some watched the natives working, while others
clasped the native maidens in their arms and danced. Half afraid of
the whites, flattered by their attentions, and extremely embarrassed,
the little women jumped and danced in the visitors' arms.
Papik finally drew his single sledge load of walrus toward his tent.
He had been rejected repeatedly, but now--with a load of blubber--he
knew he could not afford to miss the opportunity of seeking a wife.
"Ahningnetty! Ahningnetty!" he hailed a chubby maiden who, breaking
from the arms of one of the white men, was seen running toward her
shelter.
"What wouldst thou, Papik?" she called.
"Papik would speak with thee. _Ookiah_ (winter) comes, and his teeth
are sharp. They will bite thee with pangs of hunger, and the meat
Papik brings will make joyful Papik's wife."
Ahningnetty, summoning some of the other maidens, surveyed Papik's load
of blubber.
"Truly, as he saith, there is little food, and happy will be Papik's
wife," said one.
"But when thy blubber is gone with what shalt thou provide her?" asked
Ahningnetty.
"Perchance the bears will come," Papik said. "And skillful is Papik's
hand with the lance."
"But thy hand is long, Papik, and long fingers soon lose their skill."
Ahningnetty dubiously shook her head.
"But thou art chubby--yea," said Papik admiringly--"thou art fat as the
mother bears after a fat summer, and thy body is warm; it giveth heat;
Papik would give thee food, and thou shalt keep him warm during the
long winter."
The maiden smiled delightedly. For, as Papik indicated, whereas a man
may admire a slimmer beauty during the summer, when the long night
comes a maiden fat and chubby is a wife to be prized.
"But alas, thy nose is long, Papik," she said, shaking her head.
And the others chorused:
"Long nose, short life! Long nose--short life! Long nose--short
life!" In anger Papik struck the offending member, and drawing his
sledge after him proceeded toward his tent.
Assisted by a number of the natives, Ootah, smiling, exultant, drew
five sled-loads of blubber up over the ice toward Annadoah's tent.
With their comparatively meagre portions the others followed. To
Annadoah Ootah meant to show the spoils of his quest. To her he
desired to present the greater portion of the riches he had by his
prowess secured. Here was meat to serve them during the long winter,
and in that region the catch was a priceless fortune. Surely Annadoah
could not refuse him now. He had proved himself beyond question the
chief hunter of the tribe. His eyes filled, his temples excitedly
throbbed. He felt a greater joy than that the natives feel when the
sun dawns after the long night. In his heart pulsed the sweet song of
spring's first ineffable bird.
Not far from Annadoah's tent he paused. About him the natives,
wondering, admiring, had gathered. He turned to them; he felt a
strength, a dignity, an assertion he had never experienced before. His
voice rose in a happy, ingenuously proud chant of exultation:
"From the bosom of _Nerrvik_, queen of the sea, have I not brought food
for the long winter; yea, have I not for many moons sought to win in
the chase that I might claim Annadoah? Annadoah! Annadoah!"
"Yea, that thou mightest claim Annadoah! Thou art the strongest hunter
of the tribe," the natives rejoicingly chorused.
"Did I not win in the muscle-tapping games?" he sang. "Did I not speed
the arrow as none other--did I not speed the arrows as the birds fly?"
"Yea," they replied, "thou didst speed the arrow with the skill of the
happy dead playing in the aurora--over the earth as the birds fly didst
thou send the arrows. Strong is thy arm, Ootah."
Not far away some of the natives, joining in the chorus, began beating
drums. The white men hilariously drank from bottles and joined in the
merry dances.
"Did I not call the walrus and seal from the sea--as none other? Have
I not lured the caribou from their hidden lair? Have I not enticed the
birds, the foxes, and the bear by my calls--as none other of the
tribes?"
In succession Ootah uttered imitations of the calls of the walrus
bulls, the female caribou, and cries of the various birds.
"Have I not held converse with the animals of the land, the birds of
the air, and shall I not one day perchance comb the hair of _Nerrvik_
in the sea!"
The drums beat more loudly; the dancers hopped and leaped. The chorus
replied:
"Thou lurest the walrus and seal from the sea, thou enticest the
caribou, _ahmingmah_ and birds unto thee! Thou hast learned the
language of nature, and the happy spirits are kind to thee! Marvellous
is thy power, Ootah."
And in the chorus, deep, hoarse, sneeringly ironical rang the words of
Maisanguaq:
"Marvellous is thy power, Ootah," and his low bitter laughter followed.
The white men began to sing as they danced with the chubby women. In
couples they rocked to and fro.
"Have I not killed of all the birds of the air, the animals of the land
and sea! Have I not observed the customs of the august dead? Have I
done aught to bring misfortune to the tribe?"
In spontaneous recognition of his pre-eminence the young men freely
yielded Annadoah. Only Maisanguaq felt bitter.
Ootah summoned his helpers and the sleds of blubber were drawn to the
immediate entrance of Annadoah's tent. He seemed to step upon air.
His heart bounded.
"Annadoah! Annadoah!" he called. "Ootah waits thee. Ootah hath
brought thee treasure from the depths of the sea. Strong is the arm
and brave is the heart of Ootah when the arm strikes and the heart
beats with the thought of thee."
Seeing him there, the natives ceased dancing. The white men, curious,
drew near the tent.
As he stood there, his head erect, proud, expectant, he became
conscious of a sudden ominous silence on the part of his companions.
Some distance away the women were whispering to one another, and above,
in the sky, circled a black guillemot.
"Annadoah," he softly called.
Only the hawk replied.
"Annadoah, I bring thee my love, as constant as my shadow! I bring
thee riches! Ootah would give thy couch new furs and caress thee."
From the brown, weather worn sealskin tent came the murmurous sound of
voices. Ootah heard the voice of Annadoah--and that of another.
The black bird in the sky screamed.
Not far distant in the tent of the _angakoq_ Ootah heard the low
disquieting sound of a drum beaten in some malevolent incantation.
His heart sank as heavily as a dead walrus sinks in the sea.
Something stifled him. Then the flap of the tent parted and Annadoah
stepped forth, her head tossed haughtily, her beautiful eyes flashing.
"Get hence," she said. "Thou art a boy, thy tongue is that of a boy.
Thou art soft--thou hast the heart of a woman."
"Annadoah . . ." Ootah's voice wailed. The stretch of shore seemed to
heave and writhe. He put out his hands as if to ward off a blow.
Behind Annadoah, at the door of the tent, the form of a man stooped.
As he emerged, Ootah saw he was taller than Annadoah's tent. His
shoulders were broad and massive. His face, bronzed by the burning
sun, was like tanned leather, hard, wrinkled; his expression was as
grim as graven stone. His large blue eyes glittered with the coldness
of flint. His hair and long curling moustache were blond. Ootah
recognized "Olafaksoah"--Olaf, the great white trader--whom he had seen
two seasons before at a southern village. He was noted for his
brutality and hard bargaining.
"What's all the noise about?" he growled. His voice was deep and gruff.
Ootah staggered back.
"Annadoah, Annadoah," he moaned softly, supporting himself on the
upstander of his loaded sled.
Olafaksoah strode forward with great steps, scowling. He critically
surveyed the loads of blubber and gleaming walrus tusks.
"Good haul, boy--good haul! Game's been pretty scarce all along the
coast. It's lucky we got here in time, eh, comrades? What'll you
take"--he turned to Ootah--"I don't know your name." He spoke in
broken Eskimo.
"Ootah," Annadoah whispered, "that is his name. Ha-ha, thou callest
him a boy."
Ootah winced.
Olafaksoah, with heavy strides, passed down the line of sledges.
Turning to his men, he called:
"Bring the junk."
A sled of matches, needles, tea, biscuits, knives, tin cups, a few
hatchets, and several guns and cases of ammunition were brought. While
these were unloaded a half-dozen eager natives hastened into their
tents and hurriedly brought out their portions of the preciously
preserved skins and ivories of the meagre summer hunt. Clamorous,
insistent, they presented these to Olafaksoah. They clustered around
him so that he could not walk. Ootah watched as the bargaining began.
He saw Annadoah clinging near the white trader. A number of the white
men began dickering down the line with Arnaluk.
"Load blubber--one tin cup--box black powder."
Arnaluk shook his head. Olafaksoah cuffed him with his fist. The
timid native did not have the courage to resent this brutality.
"What d'ye want, you greedy savage--two boxes matches!"
"Two boxes matches--one box shooting fire--one tin cup."
Still he could not be persuaded to part with the precious meat.
Olafaksoah swore and shook his fists. Fearful of offending the
stranger, the women joined in and shrieked at Arnaluk, urging him to
consent.
Unprotesting, he let them draw away his sled of blubber and tusks. He
had a tin cup, matches and cartridges--which he could not eat.
"Rotten lot," Olafaksoah said to Papik, surveying his single catch of a
young walrus. Papik winced at this reproach.
"Two boxes fire powder," said Olafaksoah. Papik refused. Olafaksoah
browbeat him in a high voice. Finally he kicked him. "One case
needles." He called Papik's mother and chucked her under the chin.
She smiled at him, awed, flattered, half afraid. Papik parted with his
load for a box of ammunition and a few needles. Meanwhile the
bartering went on for the hoarded wealth of the tribe. Eager to
precede one another, the natives rushed to and fro, bringing armfuls of
ivories and furs from their tents. In exchange for stuff of trifling
value the white men secured, by their method of threatening bargaining,
loads of blue and white fox skins, caribou hides, and walrus and
narwhal tusks which the natives had previously preserved. One man
parted with five tusks, worth as many hundred dollars, for two gaudy
handkerchiefs for his wife. Another gave several exquisite fox skins
for a plug of tobacco. When they demanded more biscuits, tobacco or
matches than were offered, Olafaksoah bullied them with threats. Yet
they hung about him, eager for the almost worthless barter, for the
time being valuing a box of crackers and allotments of tea more than
their substantial supply of walrus meat. Finally the leader paused
before Ootah's loaded sledges.
"What'll you take--a gun, fire-powder?"
Ootah shook his head.
Olafaksoah had recourse to his stock-in-trade of oaths, and told his
men to bring a gun, two hatchets, ammunition.
Ootah was still obdurate. The natives' voices arose murmurously, for
they felt it was not well to offend the strangers. During future
seasons they might not come again, as they threatened, with ammunition
and guns. This the natives feared as a calamity.
"Bring some crackers--tea," Olafaksoah paused. Ootah watched Annadoah
nestling near the "white trader." He had forgotten all about the
sledges of meat. He did not hear Olafaksoah. He still continued
shaking his head.
"I'll be liberal with you, son," Olafaksoah indulgently increased his
offer.
Six more boxes of ammunition, more tea and crackers were added to the
pile.
Ootah again mechanically shook his head. Amid all of those about him,
he saw only the face of Annadoah, golden as sunlight and pink as the
lichen blossoms of spring. Through her open _ahttee_, or fur garment,
he saw her breasts as tender as those of eider-feathered birds. The
sight of her melted his heart, the streams of spring were loosened
within him. Yet, with an agonized pang, he observed her gaze adoringly
and eagerly at the tall stranger's hard face; he saw her quiver at the
sound of his harsh, gruff voice. Olafaksoah's brutal masculinity for
the time dominated the shrinking femininity of the girl. Ootah saw
Annadoah beseechingly, almost fawningly, touch the white chief's horny
hand and nestle it close against her cheek.
Olaf, the trader, was oblivious to this.
"Greedy, eh? Well, we need the meat! If we're goin' to stay here to
chance hunting our dogs got to be fed!" More supplies were brought.
Still Ootah did not speak.
The white chief presently gazed hard at Ootah. Then his eyes
brightened with amused mirth. He saw the despairing, yearning gaze of
the youth toward the girl he had selected to favor.
"Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed good-naturedly. "I see. I've keel-hauled
your Romeo stunt, eh? Want the stuff?" He kicked the supplies
interrogatively.
Ootah sadly shook his head. He dully heard the vulgar gibes of the
white men and the mocking laughter of Maisanguaq.
One of the natives began beating a drum. Ootah giddily caught an
evanescent vision of women dancing with reeling traders. He heard
Olafaksoah as he entered Annadoah's tent laughing heartily.
The thought of Annadoah in the embrace of the big blond man, of her
face pressed to his in the white men's strange kiss of abomination,
aroused in Ootah a sense of violation, an instinctive repugnance akin
to the horror a native feels for the dead. All the ardent hopes of his
life for many moons had centered upon his bringing the results of a
successful hunt to Annadoah and asking her to share his igloo, to
become his wife. And now, in his hour of high victory, after everyone
had acclaimed him, he was crushed.
A fervid fever seemed to take fire in his forehead and flush his veins,
yet his heart was colder than ice, his hands and feet were cold. He
felt as though someone were strangling him; he felt giddy, suddenly
sick. At that moment he was too stunned to realize fully the blighting
tragedy which had annihilated his hopes.
Nearby in her tent he heard Annadoah's voice, sweet as the song of
buntings.
"Olafaksoah, Olafaksoah," he heard her murmur tenderly, "thou art a
great man. Thou art strong. Thy arms hurt me, thy hands make me
ache." Then Ootah heard the man's hard voice and Annadoah's repressed
murmurs of mingled pain and delight. The day became black about him.
He felt that he must get away; a wild madness to run seized him. He
felt the impetus of the winds in his feet. Turning on his heel, his
face to the northwest, he fled.
In the sky overhead the black guillemot screamed.
III
"_Her lips are red--red as a wound in the throat of a deer._"
For seven weeks Ootah lived in the mountains. The violence of his
bitterness and grief scared away the wild hawks in whose high nesting
place he found shelter. At the door of that icy cave above the clouds,
he called upon the spirits of the mountains for vengeance.
"_Ioh--ioh_!" he wailed. "Spirits of the glaciers, lift your
hands--strike! Descend and smite Olafaksoah! carry him to the
narwhals; let the whales feed upon his body. May the soul of his
hands, and the soul of his feet, and the soul of his heart, and the
soul of his head struggle with one another. May he never rest!
_Ioh--ioh--ioh--ioh_!"
The boom of sliding avalanches answered him. The sound was like that
of muffled thunder. Wild cries arose from the mountain birds. They
sounded demoniacal in the taut air.
Far below soared the black vultures of the arctic. In a fit of anger
Ootah shook his arms frantically at the shrieking birds. For they
seemed to mock him.
"Spirits of the clouds," he wailed, "_Ioh--ioh--ioh-h_! Ye that wander
to the south! Ye that fly to the north! Ye that struggle hither and
yon, from the east to the west. Bear my curses to Annadoah. Tell her
that the heart of Ootah is bitter. Tell her Ootah would that her voice
become as harsh as the winds of _ookiah_ (winter). Tell her Ootah
would that her face become withered as frozen lands in winter. Tell
her Ootah would that her heart rot within her, that the wild beasts
feed upon her breasts. _Ioh-h--ioh-h-h_! Sing unto her the curses of
Ootah, and may she not rest!"
Below him the clouds, burning with vivid fire, moved in the varying
strata of air currents--to Ootah they were conveying his messages. The
sun, circling low about the horizon, shifted its rays, and within the
nebulous cloud-masses in the valleys, fountains of prism light played.
In this radiant phantasmagoria messages in turn came to Ootah.
He saw the figuration of Annadoah's tent, and within, reclining upon
her couch, the form of Annadoah. At the mirage picture of the
beauteous and beloved maiden his heart throbbed violently. In the high
altitude he found respiration difficult, and now he almost suffocated
for lack of breath. He felt a pang at his heart as he saw the white
chief enter the tent. The winds wailed sibilant and agonizing messages
into the ears of Ootah:
"Thou hast cursed Annadoah. Foolish Ootah! For thou lovest Annadoah!
Yea, her voice is as sweet as the sound of melting streams in
springtime. Lo, she whispers into the ears of Olafaksoah: 'Thou art
strong, Olafaksoah; Ootah hath the heart of a woman. Thou hurtest me,
Olafaksoah; thy arms bruise me, thy hands make me ache; but thou art
strong, thou art great, Olafaksoah; the heart of Annadoah trembles for
joy of thee.' Thus saith Annadoah!"
And in the winds Ootah heard Olafaksoah's coarse laughter.
"_Ioh--ioh-h-h_!" Ootah moaned.
"Thou wouldst that Annadoah's face be blighted as frozen land in
winter," laughed the winds, mockingly. "Thou dotard Ootah! Thou
lovest the face of Annadoah. It is very fair. It is golden as the
radiant face of _Sukh-eh-nukh_. Her eyes are as bright as stars in the
winter night. Oh-h-h, Ootah! Into the eyes of Olafaksoah Annadoah
gazes, yea, she faints with joy, thou silly Ootah!"
"_Ioh--ioh-h-h_!" wailed Ootah.
"Her lips are red, Ootah---red as a wound in the throat of a deer."
And in the cloud vision Ootah saw the blond chief take the head of
Annadoah between his two palms and press her lips fiercely upon his
own. Ootah's heart trembled as water.
"_Ioh--io-h-h_!" he sobbed, and tears coursed from his eyes.
The constant haunting thought of Annadoah's face pressed close to that
of Olafaksoah somehow made his face burn and his bosom ache.
"Ootah, Ootah, thou wouldst that Annadoah's heart might wither, yea, as
a frozen bird in the blast of winter, foolish Ootah, who lovest
Annadoah! Soft beats the heart of Annadoah upon the bosom of
Olafaksoah; yea, for very joy it flutters as a mating bird in summer
time. Thou wouldst that beasts might rend her little breasts--safe are
they now in the embrace of the strong man from the south. Ootah!
Ootah!"
Ootah wrung his hands.
"Thy curses fall dead upon the ears of Annadoah, she who hears only the
voice of Olafaksoah."