An old woman lived with her grandson in a small hut. As she had no
husband and no son to take care of her and the boy, they were very poor,
the boy’s clothing being made of skins of birds which they caught in
snares. When the boy would come out of the hut and join his playfellows,
the men would laugh at him and tear his outer garment. Only one man,
whose name was Kiviung, was kind to the young boy; but he could not
protect him from the others. Often the lad came to his grandmother
crying and weeping, and she always consoled him and each time made him a
new garment. She entreated the men to stop teasing the boy and tearing
his clothing, but they would not listen to her prayer. At last she got
angry and swore she would take revenge upon his abusers, and she could
easily do so, as she was a great angakoq.
She commanded her grandson to step into a puddle which was on the floor
of the hut, telling him what would happen and how he should behave. As
soon as he stood in the water the earth opened and he sank out of sight,
but the next moment he rose near the beach as a yearling seal with a
beautiful skin and swam about lustily.
The men had barely seen the seal when they took to their kayaks, eager
to secure the pretty animal. But the transformed boy quickly swam away,
as his grandmother had told him, and the men continued in pursuit.
Whenever he rose to breathe he took care to come up behind the kayaks,
where the men could not get at him with their harpoons; there, however,
he splashed and dabbled in order to attract their attention and lure
them on. But before any one could turn his kayak he had dived again and
swam away. The men were so interested in the pursuit that they did not
observe that they were being led far from the coast and that the land
was now altogether invisible.
Suddenly a gale arose; the sea foamed and roared and the waves destroyed
or upset their frail vessels. After all seemed to be drowned the seal
was again transformed into the lad, who went home without wetting his
feet. There was nobody now to tear his clothing, all his abusers being
dead.
Only Kiviung, who was a great angakoq and had never abused the boy, had
escaped the wind and waves. Bravely he strove against the wild sea, but
the storm did not abate. After he had drifted for many days on the wide
sea, a dark mass loomed up through the mist. His hope revived and he
worked hard to reach the supposed land. The nearer he came, however, the
more agitated did the sea become, and he saw that he had mistaken a
wild, black sea, with raging whirlpools, for land. Barely escaping he
drifted again for many days, but the storm did not abate and he did not
see any land. Again he saw a dark mass looming up through the mist, but
he was once more deceived, for it was another whirlpool which made the
sea rise in gigantic waves.
At last the storm moderated, the sea subsided, and at a great distance
he saw the land. Gradually he came nearer and following the coast he at
length spied a stone house in which a light was burning. He landed and
entered the house. Nobody was inside but an old woman whose name was
Arnaitiang. She received him kindly and at his request pulled off his
boots, slippers, and stockings and dried them on the frame hanging over
the lamp. Then she went out to light a fire and cook a good meal.
When the stockings were dry, Kiviung tried to take them from the frame
in order to put them on, but as soon as he extended his hand to touch
them the frame rose out of his reach. Having tried several times in
vain, he called Arnaitiang and asked her to give him back the stockings.
She answered: “Take them yourself; there they are; there they are” and
went out again. The fact is she was a very bad woman and wanted to eat
Kiviung.
Then he tried once more to take hold of his stockings, but with no
better result. He called again for Arnaitiang and asked her to give him
the boots and stockings, whereupon she said: “Sit down where I sat when
you entered my house; then you can get them.” After that she left him
again. Kiviung tried it once more, but the frame rose as before and he
could not reach it.
Now he understood that Arnaitiang meditated mischief; so he summoned his
tornaq, a huge white bear, who arose roaring from under the floor of the
house. At first Arnaitiang did not hear him, but as Kiviung kept on
conjuring the spirit came nearer and nearer to the surface, and when she
heard his loud roar she rushed in trembling with fear and gave Kiviung
what he had asked for. “Here are your boots,” she cried; “here are your
slippers; here are your stockings. I’ll help you put them on.” But
Kiviung would not stay any longer with this horrid witch and did not
even dare to put on his boots, but took them from Arnaitiang and rushed
out of the door. He had barely escaped when it clapped violently
together and just caught the tail of his jacket, which was torn off. He
hastened to his kayak without once stopping to look behind and paddled
away. He had only gone a short distance before Arnaitiang, who had
recovered from her fear, came out swinging her glittering woman’s knife
and threatening to kill him. He was nearly frightened to death and
almost upset his kayak. However, he managed to balance it again and
cried in answer, lifting up his spear: “I shall kill you with my spear.”
When Arnaitiang heard these words she fell down terror stricken and
broke her knife. Kiviung then observed that it was made of a thin slab
of fresh water ice.
He traveled on for many days and nights, following the shore. At last he
came to a hut, and again a lamp was burning inside. As his clothing was
wet and he was hungry, he landed and entered the house. There he found a
woman who lived all alone with her daughter. Her son-in-law was a log of
driftwood which had four boughs. Every day about the time of low water
they carried it to the beach and when the tide came in it swam away.
When night came again it returned with eight large seals, two being
fastened to every bough. Thus the timber provided its wife, her mother,
and Kiviung with an abundance of food. One day, however, after they had
launched it as they had always done, it left and never returned.
After a short interval Kiviung married the young widow. Now he went
sealing every day himself and was very successful. As he thought of
leaving some day, he was anxious to get a good stock of mittens (that
his hands might keep dry during the long journey?). Every night after
returning from hunting he pretended to have lost his mittens. In reality
he had concealed them in the hood of his jacket.
After awhile the old woman became jealous of her daughter, for the new
husband of the latter was a splendid hunter and she wished to marry him
herself. One day when he was away hunting, she murdered her daughter,
and in order to deceive him she removed her daughter’s skin and crept
into it, thus changing her shape into that of the young woman. When
Kiviung returned, she went to meet him, as it had been her daughter’s
custom, and without exciting any suspicion. But when he entered the hut
and saw the bones of his wife he at once became aware of the cruel deed
and of the deception that had been practiced and fled away.
He traveled on for many days and nights, always following the shore. At
last he again came to a hut where a lamp was burning. As his clothing
was wet and he was hungry, he landed and went up to the house. Before
entering it occurred to him that it would be best to find out first who
was inside. He therefore climbed up to the window and looked through the
peep hole. On the bed sat an old woman, whose name was Aissivang
(spider). When she saw the dark figure before the window she believed it
was a cloud passing the sun, and as the light was insufficient to enable
her to go on with her work she got angry. With her knife she cut away
her eyebrows, ate them, and did not mind the dripping blood, but sewed
on. When Kiviung saw this he thought that she must be a very bad woman
and turned away.
Still he traveled on days and nights. At last he came to a land which
seemed familiar to him and soon he recognized his own country. He was
very glad when he saw some boats coming to meet him. They had been on a
whaling excursion and were towing a great carcass to the village. In the
bow of one of them stood a stout young man who had killed the whale. He
was Kiviung’s son, whom he had left a small boy and who was now grown up
and had become a great hunter. His wife had taken a new husband, but now
she returned to Kiviung.