CLOTHING—BOAT BUILDING
In the preceding chapters little but an outline has been given of the
activities of the day in an Eskimo encampment. Boat building is one of
the occupations in which men and women jointly engage; but before this
is described at the length it requires, there is much to be said about
the dressing and fashioning of the various skins which form the most
important item of Eskimo economy.
The Eskimo woman values none of her possessions more than the ooloo, a
short-handled knife shaped like a small half-moon turf cutter, chiefly
used for paring off the inner membrane of the stout sealskin for the
lighter hangings of the summer tent, but of universal utility. With it
she cuts out her garments or dismembers a seal. In addition to this she
has steel or ivory needles and a thimble.
The Eskimo have no woven fabrics or European clothes until they come in
contact with the whites, and—perhaps unfortunately—acquire the
beginnings of a civilisation alien to the natural evolution and
necessities of their lives.
Their own native dress consists entirely of deerskins for winter use
and sealskins for the summer. Both sets are warmly lined with fur. The
deerskins employed as clothing are the summer and autumn hides; those
flayed in the winter are reserved for the kaksak or sleeping blankets.
The men’s and women’s tunics are lined either with fawn skins or the
summer skins with the hair on. No underclothing is required, fur always
being worn next to the skin. The man’s jacket is looser in shape than
the woman’s, and the hood (nessak) fits closely round the face. The
woman’s garment is quite different. It has shorter, baggy sleeves, is
large and roomy at the back, fitting, however, tightly to the waist; it
has a hood (amout) big enough for two heads, a short stomacher-like
apron about twelve inches long in front, and a lengthy tail reaching to
the heels behind. The Eskimo women carry their babies on their backs in
this queer jacket. The child has no clothing on it, but it keeps
admirably warm next the fur-clad mother. Its feet rest on her waist
line and its head peers from out of the capacious hood over her
shoulder.
Both sexes wear short, wide trousers. For footgear they have long
deerskin stockings like Lifeguardsmen’s boots, with the hair turned
next the skin, reaching well up over the knees under the pants. Over
these is worn a sock like a Turkish slipper, made from the skin of the
Large Glaucus Gull, the feathers being inside; and over this again goes
a short sock of deerskin, with the hair turned outwards and upwards so
as to enable the long boot, or kummik, to pull on easily. This boot is
tied on below the knee and round the ankle. The sole is made of the
leather of the large ground seal, with the hair shaved off, and the leg
is the skin of deer’s legs stoutly stitched together.
The women take immense pride in the cut, fit, workmanship and
ornamentation of their dresses, showing no little taste and
discrimination in the management of design and ornament. The various
furs are introduced in lines, panels and patterns, with an eye to
colour and texture a skilled furrier might envy.
Prior to the advent of Europeans to the Arctics, fringes of deerskin
were the most popular form of ornament for clothing; but to-day the
Eskimo women are passionately fond of elaborate beadwork. The beads are
of European manufacture, but the design in which they are applied is
native. The favourite beads are small and brightly coloured. The native
sempstress will also sew two or three coins down the front of the
inside jacket and down the tail of the dress, or even the bowls of a
few spoons. These clink as they walk, and greatly delight their
wearers.
The Eskimo tailor has a wonderfully correct eye, and can so scrutinise
a figure as to be able to turn out a well-fitting suit of skins without
taking a single measurement, or “trying on.”
The men’s clothes are plain, without ornamentation, and the fashion of
them does not vary with the season. In summer they are lined with the
white skins of the baby seal, which are as soft and fleecy as lambs’
wool; in winter, with the skins of the fawn, which are very soft and
warm.
The Eskimo housewife prides herself greatly upon her store of skins.
These, and the soapstone cooking utensils, and the carefully housed
poles for the summer tupik, dogs, sled, and kyak, constitute the wealth
of a native family. Fine sewing thread is made from the sinew of deer’s
legs, scraped and dried. For stouter purposes, seal sinew is used.
Eskimo stitching requires to be seen to be appreciated. It is amusing
to note that the age of a child can be told at a glance by the length
of the tail of its little jacket.
Apropos generally of domestic tastes, a word must be added on the
women’s hairdressing. The hair is generally parted down the centre and
plaited on either side of the face, the two plaits being looped under
the ears (reminiscent of the early Victorian style!) and tied in a knot
at the back. In some tribes the women gather their hair up and bind it
all into a stiff vertical cone on the top of the head. They weave into
this stubborn erection every hair which comes out, so that in time a
woman’s age may be guessed by the size of her topknot. It used to be
the fashion in bygone days to tattoo the face with linear designs, but
this has now practically died out.
It is a common error of writers upon the Eskimo folk to assert that
they oil themselves to keep out the cold, that they drink oil as a
food, and revel in grease generally. Nothing of this is correct. The
dirtier and the greasier a man is, the colder he is; so every effort is
made—not after cleanliness exactly, as that is an impracticable
standard—to keep grease from the clothes and the person. When engaged
in preparing or cleaning anything very oily, the women remove part of
their dress to save it, and afterwards rub away as much of the grease
as possible from their hands and arms. Seal oil and melted blubber act
as strong purgatives, hence it would be impossible to use them as
drink, besides they are required for the lamps.
Perhaps the next most important business of the Eskimo women, after
cooking and making the clothes, is the preparation of skins for the two
types of boat in use on the coast. This entails considerable labour and
skill. The men are responsible for the framework.
The kyak—a creation as truly national to these intrepid coasters as the
snowshoe may be to the Indian, the ski to the Norwegian, and the
alpenstock to the Swiss mountaineer—is a covered canoe, graceful as a
fish, for use at sea. It can be handled in the roughest weather. It
consists of a light framework, formerly of whalebone, but now generally
of driftwood, fastened together with thongs of sealskin. It is from
eighteen to twenty feet in length, strong and elastic to a degree, and
entirely covered with skins, almost resembling a torpedo in shape, with
long, tapering extremities. There is a small circular opening
amid-ships, where the kyaker sits, fitting closely round his body. In
rough weather he wears a waterproof jacket (of seal gut), the hood
fitting tightly round his face and the sleeves to his wrists. The lower
edge of this comes over the opening in the canoe and is laced round it,
so that man and craft are fairly one.
The Rev. A. L. Fleming, formerly a naval architect, informed the writer
that the lines of the kyak are perfect, and from the point of view of
sea-going architecture could not be improved. The Baffin Land kyak is
broader than the Greenland type. The latter is much narrower, and
requires great skill to handle. Readers of Arctic literature will
recall Nansen’s account of the extraordinary feats performed by the
Eskimo on the west coast of Greenland in manœuvring these canoes. The
Baffin Islanders are also very skilful. They can right themselves, if
completely overturned, by a peculiar quick jerk of the paddle. The kyak
cannot fill, should the waves wash right over it. It probably comes
nearer the ideal of an unsinkable boat than many a more ambitious
construction. It would be hard to say, as between hunting and fishing
(the staple business of their lives), which is the characteristic
national “sport” of the Eskimo; but certainly no one not born and bred
to the handling of the kyak could acquire the native degree of ease and
daring.
The sealskins for these canoes are bleached. Either they are scalded,
or tied in bundles and hung up in a warm atmosphere to ferment. This
process is allowed to go on for a week or two, until the stench becomes
unbearable. When taken down and shaved with the ooloo, the black
epidermis comes away with the hair, leaving the skins beautifully
white. The inner membranes are left intact. The next step is to stitch
the skins together. Bleached hides may be made to alternate with
unbleaced ones, by way of ornament; or the entire covering may be
merely black or brown.
The thread is sinew from seal flesh, since it must be derived from the
same source as the skins, to ensure the same degree of shrinking and
stretching. The seams are double stitched, first through the skin only,
leaving the membrane untouched, and then oversewing the latter, so as
to make them perfectly watertight. The moistened skins are then loosely
applied to the framework; as they shrink and dry they fit to it
exactly, and form a light, drum-tight covering over the whole. It is
part of the man’s job to fit the wooden rim to the opening on top, and
to make the loops which serve to secure his weapons.
He carries a three-pronged bird spear on the left hand side in front of
him; on the right is his sealing spear, and between the two is a small
round tray for the coiled seal line fixed to the detachable spearhead.
Behind him on the left is his nixie or hook, on the right a heavy
harpoon for striking walrus or the larger creatures he may encounter,
between the two and immediately behind him an inflated sealskin with
the end of his sealing line attached. Thus equipped, the canoe is
complete, a thing of pride to its owner, which will last all his life
and be handed down to his sons and their sons after him.
The sealing spear has an ivory (or nowadays a steel) butt for breaking
ice, and acts as an ice chisel. Its shaft consists of a piece of
driftwood, its long keen point is made from part of the jawbone or rib
of the whale, and its detachable barbed head is of steel or ivory. The
long line attached to this is a stout strip of white whale hide. The
harpoon, too, is of wood and ivory, as also is the long hunting knife
and the small kit of lesser tools without which the hunter seldom
moves. All these things are made during the endless winter evenings,
while sitting round the seal oil lamps in the igloo, or on stormy days
when the Arctic blizzard obliterates the world without. (There is an
interesting collection of Eskimo dresses and implements and utensils to
be seen in the Ethnological Gallery at the British Museum; but perhaps
even more representative a one is that in the Natural History Museum in
New York.)
The paddle of the kyak is made from a long piece of driftwood. Its
proper length is the span of the owner (the full extent of the two
extended arms), and half a span again. The blades are narrow, since
they are for use at sea, and engage the most skilful attention of the
craftsman. Both are tipped with ivory. This pouteek, as it is called,
can be used as an outrigger. On top of the kyak, in front of the man,
there are four strongly made loops of hide, the exact width of the
blade of the paddle. If the rower wishes to stand up or give play to
free movement, to cut up and store away a seal either upon the craft or
inside it, he cannot do so without an outrigger or he would simply
capsize. To prevent this, he pushes one end of the paddle into the
loops, which hold it fast. The other end, outboard, acts as a
counter-weight and exactly balances the canoe. It is then perfectly
stable and almost impossible to upset. The dexterity of the kyaker has
already been alluded to. He can do anything with this boat. His
confidence is so complete that not infrequently, when a heavy wave is
atop of him, he will deliberately turn turtle, receive the weight of
the water on the bottom, and right himself when the moment is passed.
The Umiak is a very different craft, and serves the Eskimo family as a
sort of general pantechnicon and removing van. It consists of a large,
clumsy framework of wood, covered with the skins of the big ground
seal, which are dressed into a thick tough leather. It is really an
open sailing boat, capable of carrying perhaps six families and a huge
and miscellaneous cargo. It has a square stem and stern and a stumpy
mast set well forward in the bows. The large square sail used to be
made in earlier days of skin stitched together, or of the intestines of
seals blown out and dried, then split open, the long, broad strips
alternating with narrow strips of the same material, to ensure equal
stretching and shrinking. Nowadays, the natives provide themselves with
sail-cloth from the trading posts. The Umiak is an unhandy thing to
manage, but a good enough boat in a heavy sea way. When on a long
voyage up or down the coast or across the bays, in former times, the
Umiak had a double skin; the outer covering becomes so waterlogged and
the movement so sluggish that the whole thing is cast off, and the
journey proceeds in the inner, lighter and drier shell. The gut sail
requires constant wetting to prevent it splitting into ribbons. This
primitive concern is paddled by women when the paddles become
necessary, but a man has the steering in his charge.
The oars for the Umiak are clumsy things compared to the kyak paddle.
The blades are rough oblongs of wood, almost like spades, fitted to
poles of wood by no means necessarily straight, and bound on by thongs
of hide. Sometimes the oar is quite a crooked branch, and a collection
of these in the hide hung boat looks about as prehistoric an outfit as
Mr. E. T. Reed’s most comic imagination might depict among his
inimitable parodies of life in the neolithic period.
The Kyak and the Umiak are the two purely native types of boat used on
the Arctic coast. The people, however, are familiar and handy enough
nowadays with rowing and sailing boats of European model, wherever they
have had the opportunity of using and knowing them. They have other
ingenious means of getting about on the water when boats of any
description are not to be had at all. The hunter at the edge of the
floe can stand and paddle himself away out to sea on a raft or slab of
ice detached from the mass; and the deerstalker inland, anxious to
cross a sheet of water or a river, will utilise a skin stuffed with
dried heather, stoutly bound about with thongs of hide. He sits on this
and skims off as happily as a water-beetle.
The possession of a couple of boats like the foregoing, of a good store
of hunting weapons, plenty of skins, a team of well-trained dogs, and
two sleds—one, a short, light, travelling affair for hunting, and the
other a heavy, long-distance thing for the migrations of the
family—constitute the Eskimo house-holder’s wealth, and determine his
social precedence and standing in the tribe.