of the strong Russian tobacco found its way through Siberia and across
the Behring Straits. "Nanoona" was a great traveler for those days, and
had ventured as far south as what is now known as the Seward Peninsula.
Obtaining some of the tobacco, he returned to his home, and the news
soon spread that "Nanoona" could actually swallow fire and then belch
forth smoke. The thing seemed incredible; it even surpassed the doings
of the wonderful "Ongootkoot" who was very successful in driving off
eclipses, thereby saving the villagers from some terrible catastrophes.
At the appointed time the people gathered, filling "Nanoona's" iglo;
even the roof was packed. The seal-gut window having been removed, the
people gathered there several rows deep, all desirous of witnessing the
wonderful act.
Our hero no doubt felt the importance of the occasion and filled his
pipe more times than his discretion should have allowed; first came the
stage of exhilaration, the world looked beautiful, and he spoke
entertainingly of the traditions of the past, a subject that is always
interesting to an Inupash, even if he has already heard them many
times; then came the well-known after effects, which nearly all
beginners with the weed experience.
His transient indisposition served as no warning to the people; neither
did the odor of the smoke that they had been forced to shield their
noses from. Had they not seen him swallow fire and belch forth smoke?
Had they not seen him during the stage of exhilaration? They all wished
to pass through a similar experience, but tobacco was scarce and held
at a fabulous price. One pull at the pipe was worth two dressed
sealskins; or a pipeful of the weed, affording two good swallows, cost
two deerskins. Only the wealthy could afford such a luxury.
"Nanoona" has long since gone to his rest, but his name remains green
among the villagers. To-day the traveler can see his elevated grave at
Tigme[=a]rook, about six miles east of the village of Tigara, at which
place his career came to a sudden end through the agency of an arrow
driven by the bow of an enemy.
XX
WINTER EVENINGS AND STORIES
The inhabitants of the busy world have no end of amusements, besides
their newspapers and magazines with which to pass their leisure hours.
It is not so with the less fortunate inhabitants of the far north.
Their winter evenings are long and their homes but dimly lighted by the
seal-oil lamps. To the uninitiated, it would seem a dreary sight, yet
the people have their enjoyment in the shape of an occasional dance, a
most innocent form of amusement, being as much singing as dancing,
accompanied by the beating of the one-headed drum.
The dancer stands up and makes a few graceful movements with the arms,
as well as limbering at the knee joints, then sits down. Others go
through the same motions in their turn, while the audience does the
singing. Their main festivities occur at the full of the moon, in the
month of "Nekanok-kochevik," corresponding to our December, at which
time, besides the dancing and feasting, presents are given by the
leading men.
Their other form of amusement is story-telling. The stories may be old,
but that makes no difference to an Inupash, he is one of the most
attentive listeners, no matter how many times he may have heard the
same tale before. The repetition has the advantage of fixing the story
in the minds of the people, enabling them to retain and pass down their
traditions from one generation to another for an immensely long period
of time. Outside of their traditions, their stories deal largely with
the supernatural in the form of ghosts and fairies. Occasionally, one
may hear a fable that apparently has a moral attached. The following
are a few of the stories that mothers interest their children with, and
that are eagerly listened to by the older ones also:--
ALLUGU[=A]
Little Allugu[=a] had been born blind. It had worried his father and
mother greatly, for they knew when he grew to manhood he would not be
able to hunt and support himself. They hoped as he grew older he might
yet receive his eyesight, although both eyes were white and sightless.
At last when he became seven or eight years of age his parents gave up
all hope.
The summer season was approaching, a time when all the villagers would
be going on their annual trips, some to the north in quest of deer,
while others would go to the east, down the Kotzebue Sound, where they
would meet natives of other tribes, and do their trading. All would
leave the village; the place would be entirely abandoned. Little
Allugu[=a]'s father and mother, in talking the matter over with some of
the neighbors, came to the conclusion that the child was hopelessly
blind and would never be able to support himself. It was therefore
decided to leave him behind. The parents placed him in their iglo,
laying heavy whale jaws over the window and blocking up the entrance,
thus leaving no way of escape. They then left him without food,
expecting him to starve to death during their absence.
The little fellow sat on the floor, with his head bowed on his breast,
feeling very bad at the fate which awaited him. He was growing very
hungry and had apparently no means of relief. Everything was dark to
him. His hunger grew still worse, with a terrible gnawing sensation in
his stomach. If he could only get something to eat! and his thirst was
terrible! He was beside himself with despair; if death would only come,
what a relief it would be. It seemed a terribly long time that he sat
there in the darkness with his head bowed on his breast.
At last he heard a noise; what could it mean? He knew that none of the
villagers would return for a long time. It must be one of those
hallucinations that hunger and thirst often create. Then the noise came
nearer, and a little woman coming up through the floor asked him why he
was there and what made him so sad. He soon told the story of how he
had been left to starve to death and how he was suffering for food and
water. If he could only get a drink from the spring near by, how it
would relieve the terrible parched condition of his mouth and throat!
Water, oh, if he only had some water!
"Never mind," said the little woman, "you shall not starve to death,"
and she placed by his side some nice pieces of whale meat and black
skin, with a pailful of clear cold water. How Allugu[=a] did enjoy the
water, and then the whale meat and black skin! He had never in all his
life tasted anything half so good. Every day the little woman brought a
fresh supply of meat and water; she knew just what to choose so that he
would gain strength and grow.
At last the fall season came, bringing with it the colder weather. The
villagers were returning from their summer trips, and Allugu[=a]'s
father and mother were among the arrivals. Soon he heard some one
moving the barricade from the entrance, then his mother looked up
through the hole in the floor. She was greatly surprised to see him
alive and well; here was a fat, healthy boy instead of the emaciated
body of her son, who, she supposed, had starved to death during her
absence.
"Why you are alive and hearty, what makes you so fleshy?" she remarked,
"and how you have grown!" Allugu[=a] did not tell his mother that a
good little fairy had been feeding him. He simply said that the food
and water she had left had proved very nourishing. After that his
parents decided that as he would not die they would take care of him.
In time he grew up and was approaching manhood, when he expressed a
desire to join one of the whaling crews. His parents said no; he was
blind and would simply be in the way of the whalers. But he persisted,
declaring that he would kill a whale. At last they consented, and he
went with one of the crews. He had not been long out when he insisted
that he should be placed at the head of the boat with the whaling
spear. The men at first refused, but ultimately acceded to his request
by placing him at the head with the spear. Just then a whale coming
along quite close, they told him to dart, but he said no; that was not
the right one, as it passed off. Then the ice began crowding in and the
canoe was quickly hauled out. The men stepped back to a safe place, but
Allugu[=a] stayed at the edge.
After a while he began beckoning to the men to come forward. But no,
they would not, for they thought it was simply the crowding ice he
heard. Later on, the ice moved off and another whale came quite close.
The men again placed the spear in his hand and told him to dart, but he
said no; that was not the right one. The ice again crowding in as
before, he took his stand at the edge. After listening a while he
beckoned for the men to come forward. At last they did so, remarking
among themselves, that it was only the crowding of the ice he heard. He
stood for a moment listening, then darted the spear, but instead of
striking the ice, it went under, and the line with the floats was drawn
out with great rapidity. He had darted a large whale which was soon
dispatched.
Before the season closed he had killed three more, and the following
year he did the same thing again; so that instead of being a poor blind
man, a care to his parents, Allugu[=a] proved to be one of the most
successful whalers in the village.
CATERPILLAR
It is not long since ghosts and fairies were fully believed in in the
far north, as they were in the olden days in our more civilized
countries. The men and women who claimed they had seen such apparitions
were so common that no one doubted their statements or gave the subject
an investigation, but would listen patiently, no matter how extravagant
the story might be. Even to-day, superstition seems to exist among the
older people, although there is scarcely any one who would care to
assert that he had seen such a thing at a very recent date. In 1892 a
young woman came to me with the information that the previous evening
an "Ongootkoot" had seen a black man and boy walk slowly across the
land, then out upon the ocean, where they disappeared.
Quite a while back, a man and his wife had gone into the interior
country in search of deer. The man was meeting with unusually good
success in his hunting, while the woman busied herself with cutting and
packing willow brush for the camp. One day while at her task, happening
to look up, she saw a woman near at hand with a very fine deerskin coat
on. It was all fancily trimmed with wolverine and other furs, making
one of those beautiful coats any woman would love to possess. At the
same time, looking down at her own shabby artege, she sighed and
remarked to the stranger, "What a beautiful coat you have." The woman
smilingly replied, "Yes, how would you like to have it?" Of course she
was delighted with the proposition, and when the stranger offered to
make the exchange, was only too glad to accept the offer. The exchange
was soon made, but on putting on the new coat she was instantly
transformed into a caterpillar. The stranger put on the old coat, then
picking up the bundle of willow brush went to the camp, where she took
the place of the real wife.
The hunter, on returning, remarked to his supposed wife, "Why, dear,
you don't look the same as usual, and you have a different odor." To
which she replied, "Why, husband, you know I have been working hard all
day, cutting and packing brush and have become overheated." The man,
not being very inquisitive, accepted the explanation and was satisfied,
especially so as there was a nice hot dinner awaiting him.
So matters continued for some time.
The real wife felt terribly over her misfortune, wishing sincerely she
had never coveted the other woman's coat. She slowly crawled back
toward the camp, but, make the greatest exertion she could, it was very
slow work. Then, when she thought she had nearly arrived at the place
where her husband was, he and the fraudulent wife would break camp and
move to a new site. It was such slow work crawling; besides, the poor
wife had several narrow escapes from hungry birds, only escaping by
hiding in the crevice of a rock or under a blade of grass. The season
was advancing and her husband would soon return to the village; she
must hurry or be left behind. So crawling night and day, she at last
reached the camp and managed to crawl in among the deerskins, as they
were being lashed preparatory to taking them home.
On arriving in the village she could only crawl around and see her
friends, but no one took any notice of her. She crawled around the iglo
and watched the fraudulent wife making love to her husband. It filled
her with jealousy and indignation, but she could do nothing to help
matters. The season was arriving when she would turn into a cocoon for
her long winter's sleep. If something did not happen quickly, her hopes
would be blasted forever. Crawling up over the place where her mother
was cooking, the caterpillar accidentally fell down at the edge of the
fire, burst open and the woman escaped from her prison. Her mother was
greatly surprised. Explanations were made, and the fraudulent wife was
soon turned into a caterpillar. Crawling off she has never since been
heard from, and may be crawling yet, as far as any of the villagers
know.
TUNGN[=A]LUKE'S PERPLEXITY
Tungn[=a]luke was one of those slow-of-comprehension, good-natured,
shiftless fellows, that the men of the world would consider as not
being very bright. He would rather hang around his neighbors doing a
bit of gossiping, than to exert himself by hunting for his family. As
usual with such characters, he had chosen for a wife a woman his
extreme opposite, and she was not to be blamed if, at times, she
exercised her fiery tongue or wielded a stick. It was the only way to
excite a little energy in the man she had accepted as her life partner.
There was a certain amount of affection existing between the two; she
looking upon him as a man she could control, while on his part, he
viewed her with a considerable amount of respect.
Knowing the man's gossiping disposition so well, she had ordered him to
go up the river alone for three or four weeks and lay in a winter's
supply of fish. He would much rather have taken a companion, for
spending three or four weeks alone fishing through the ice, with no one
to converse with, did not meet with his approbation; yet he knew better
than to raise any objections with Mrs. Tungn[=a]luke. So he obeyed and
went off. Feeling the loneliness of his position, he worked with an
unusual amount of energy, trying to hurry the task through. Still the
feeling of, "Oh, if I only had some one to talk to," would occasionally
steal over him.
One day, meeting with unusual success, he stayed at the task much later
than usual and the twilight had begun to fade. At last casting his eyes
toward his hut he was surprised to see the place brightly illuminated.
What could it mean? He knew that the seal-oil lamp had not been lighted
that day and there was no other person within many miles.
The number four seems to be regarded among the villagers with some
degree of superstition, though why it is hard to say. Perhaps it
originated from the idea that man ascends on the fourth day after
death, and the four raps with the hammer are given on that day at the
recent home of the deceased.
Tungn[=a]luke, on seeing the illumination, hastily picked up four
frozen fish and on entering the hut he was delighted to see a woman.
Here was somebody to talk to. To be sure, she had a deerskin mask over
her face, and he knew that was the way the villagers dressed the dead,
but he gave the subject no heed. The place was nice and warm, and he
felt that his solitude was at an end. He could now have a nice long
conversation; so seating himself on the floor he spoke to the visitor.
But she made no reply. He then pushed one of the frozen fish toward
her, but the fish came flapping back. Then he offered the other fish
one by one, telling her to eat; but they came flapping back as did the
first. Thinking that the warmth of the room had brought them back to
life, he gave the subject no further attention.
His curiosity being aroused, and wishing to see who the visitor was, he
pulled the death mask from her face and threw it outside; but it came
back and covered the face again. Supposing that it was the wind which
had blown it back, he pulled it off again and threw it outside; but
with the same result as before. It was not until the fifth time that
the mask stayed away. Then recognizing one of the young women of the
village, he spoke but received no reply. Passing his hand over her face
he felt that she was cold and clammy, and supposing it was a chill she
had he placed her in his bed.
After awhile he had the satisfaction of knowing that his visitor was
growing warmer. Then she spoke and told him she had died and been
buried, but that he had warmed and made her comfortable again. After
talking together for quite awhile, the visitor proposed that they
should return to the village together, Tungn[=a]luke taking her for his
wife.
At last the truth began to dawn through his mind, and he found himself
in a perplexity. Here he had been making a ghost comfortable, and it
was now insisting on being his wife. He already had one in the village,
whom he had a great amount of respect for, and knew she would be highly
indignant if he brought a second wife home, especially so if the new
one was the recently deceased neighbor. So he refused, but the ghost
insisted. He was in a great perplexity, not knowing how to escape from
his dilemma. The ghost was growing more and more imperative in its
demands.
At last the idea arose in his mind that he would try the hammer. So
going around the room he struck the four magic blows, at which the
ghost disappeared, and he returned alone to his home to relate his
adventure.
THE RAVEN, THE BARNACLE GOOSE AND THE WHALE
A raven that lived along the cliffs near Cape Lisburne became tired of
the humdrum life he was leading. He had noticed that his friends, the
gannets and murres, with many other acquaintances, were in the habit of
going on long trips each fall and not returning again until the warmer
weather of spring had arrived. His own family was content to stay at
home the year round, not showing the least ambition to travel or visit
any of those other countries about which their neighbors were
continually talking. He was particularly interested to learn that in
the south the sun was never lost in winter and the days were warm and
balmy, just the same as in summer. He was growing tired of his
bachelorship, and therefore he decided to seek a bride outside of his
own people, one that would be willing to travel with him. Meeting one
of the young ladies of the Barnacle Goose family, he proposed that she
should become his wife, lauding himself by saying what a sweet voice he
had, and what a good husband he would make. Miss Goose hung her head
and demurred a little, nevertheless she accepted the offer, and they
began their wedding tour together.
The goose, knowing the route, took the lead straight out over the
ocean, while the raven followed, trying to keep pace with his bride. As
the day waned, the raven began to feel the effects of the long flight,
while hunger was admonishing him that he had partaken of only a light
breakfast that morning. So addressing his wife, he said, "My dear,
don't you think it is about time for us to take a rest while we try to
find something to eat?"
"All right, husband," was her reply, as she settled lightly down on the
waves. But there was no place for the raven to alight, unless upon his
wife's back. All was water, so with a slight apology, he lit on the
bride's back. After a short time she began to feel her husband's weight
to be somewhat of a burden. Seeing a small fish, she remarked, "Look
out, dear," as she dove and captured it. The raven just had time to
open his weary wings, to avoid a ducking; then he had the mortification
of seeing how selfish his bride was, as she swallowed the whole fish
without offering him even a small piece, although he was famishing with
hunger.
The goose then started to continue the journey, while the raven
implored her to rest just a little longer; but no, she would not. There
was nothing else for him to do but to continue his flight, trying to
keep up with his wife, while beseeching her to take another short rest.
So the night wore away.
As the dawn came, the bride, who had gradually gained in her flight,
was far ahead, while the bridegroom could scarcely flap his wings any
longer. The situation began to look serious. If he should alight on the
water his feathers would become wet and that would be his end. What to
do he did not know. Just then a whale came along, and thinking it would
be a good place to alight, he managed to reach its head just as his
wings gave out.
The whale had just started to take a fresh breath, and the raven
entered the blow hole along with the rush of air. Looking around he
said to himself, "What a nice long room this is," and commenced walking
about picking at the walls here and there. The whale remarked to some
of its companions, "What a cold I have taken in my nose," and began
sneezing. The raven thought he was in a very draughty apartment, but he
had been born on the cliffs at Cape Lisburne, where the gales are
frequent and severe, so he did not mind the present wollies[4] to any
extent.
[4] Wollie, a sudden high gust of wind rushing through a gulch.
He took a walk in the long passageway until the road divided up into
the many small by-paths of the lungs. At last, finding a crevice where
the drafts did not seem quite so strong, he settled down for a good
sleep. On awakening, he began examining the comfortable crevice and
found that the walls were not quite so thick as at the other places. So
setting to work with bill and claws on a thin portion, he soon had a
hole made through the membrane; at the same time the whale was
grumbling at having the tickling sensation in its nose and throat that
made it sneeze so often.
The raven walked through the opening and found himself in a much larger
apartment, where there was a great deal to excite his interest, but
what seemed the most curious thing of all was a great red object that
was thumping in regular order. After standing and watching it for quite
a while, his curiosity became much aroused. He thought he would feel
it, just to see if it was hard or soft. He commenced feeling with his
bill and found it was quite firm, but on trial discovered that it was
easy to nip off a small piece. The fragment tasted very good, and as he
had not breakfasted yet he made up his mind to keep nipping off small
pieces until his hunger was appeased. The whale told its friends that
these colds in the nose were awful things, for sometimes they struck
through to the heart. The raven declared he had never before had such a
good thing in all his life. Here was a nice large room with plenty to
excite his curiosity, while there was no end of good things to eat.
At the end of a week he found himself growing quite fleshy, but the big
red object was not beating with the same regularity as at first. At
last it ceased, and the whale lay floating on the water, dead. The
whale's friends declared that their late comrade had died suddenly from
heart failure, induced by a cold in the nose and aggravated by too much
sneezing.
The raven soon began to suspect that all was not quite right. The big
red object did not work any longer, while everything remained so still.
After a while, the breaking of the surf on the beach greeted his ears.
Then people's voices were heard shouting, "Here comes some new meat and
black skin floating on the ocean."
The whale drifted on shore and the inhabitants were soon cutting off
the meat and blubber. One man, working on the ribs, quickly had a hole
made and light began streaming through. The raven said to himself,
"Here I have grown quite corpulent during the lazy life I have been
leading; I must not let the men see me." So, crouching down and hiding,
he waited until the hole was made large enough, then suddenly opening
his wings flew out. Everybody was much surprised to see the raven come
out of the whale. But they heard him say before he disappeared toward
his home on the cliffs, that in the future he would stick by his own
people and avoid those frivolous young ladies of the Barnacle Goose
family.
XXI
COURTSHIP