Turn we now to another, a more distant, and a wilder scene. Near the
bleak shores of Hudson's Straits there flows a river which forms an
outlet to the superfluous waters of the almost unknown territory lying
between the uninhabited parts of Labrador and that tract of desert land
which borders Hudson's Bay on the east, and is known to the fur-traders
by the appellation of East Main. This river is called the Caniapuscaw,
and discharges itself into Ungava Bay.
The scene to which we would turn the reader's attention is upwards of
twenty miles from the mouth of this river, at a particular bend, where
the stream spreads itself out into a sheet of water almost worthy of
being called a lake, and just below which two bold cliffs shut out the
seaward view, and cause an abrupt narrowing of the river. The scene is
peculiar, and surpassingly grand. On each side of the stream majestic
mountains raise their bald and rugged peaks almost into the clouds.
Little herbage grows on the more exposed places, and nothing, save here
and there a stunted and weather-worn pine, breaks the sharp outline of
the cliffs. But in the gorges and dark ravines--for there are no
valleys--clumps of small-sized spruce--fir and larch trees throw a
softness over some of the details of a spot whose general aspect is one
of sterility. The mountains rise in a succession of irregular steps or
terraces, whose faces are so precipitous that they cannot be ascended.
To accomplish the feat of scaling the mountain-tops it would be
necessary to clamber up a ravine until the first terrace should be
gained, then, walking along that, ascend the next ravine, and so on. At
the upper end of the lake (as we shall hereafter call this wide part of
the river) lies a low island, fringed with a scanty growth of willows;
and not far from this, on the eastern bank of the river, lies a small
patch of level sand. This spot is somewhat peculiar, inasmuch as it is
backed by a low platform of rock, whose surface is smooth as a table.
At the foot of this rock bubbles a little spring, which, meandering
through a tangled spot of stunted shrubbery ere it mingles with the
sand, gives unusual green-ness and vitality to the surrounding herbage.
On the edge of this rocky platform sat the figure of a man.
It was evening. The declining sun shot its last few rays over the brow
of the opposite mountains, and bathed him in mellow light, as he sat
apparently contemplating the scene before him. The man's costume
bespoke him a native of the savage region in the midst of which he
seemed the only human being. But although an Esquimau, he exhibited
several physical peculiarities not commonly supposed to belong to that
people. To an altitude of six feet three he added a breadth of shoulder
and expansion of chest seldom equalled among men of more highly-favoured
climes; and his real bulk being very greatly increased by his costume,
he appeared to be a very giant--no unfitting tenant of such giant
scenery. The said costume consisted of an extremely loose coat or shirt
of deerskin, having the hair outside, and a capacious hood, which
usually hung down behind, but covered his head at this time, in order to
protect it from a sharp north-west breeze that whirled among the gullies
of the mountains, and surging down their sides, darkened the surface of
the water. A pair of long sealskin boots encased his limbs from foot to
thigh; and a little wallet or bag of sealskin, with the hair outside,
hung from his shoulders. Simple although this costume was, it had a
bulky rotundity of appearance that harmonised well with the giant's
frank, good-humoured countenance, which was manly, firm, and massive,
besides being rosy, oily, and fat. In the latter peculiarity he partook
of the well-known characteristic of his tribe; but the effeminacy in
appearance that is produced by a round, fat face was done away in the
case of our giant by a remarkably black though as yet downy moustache
and beard, of a length suitable to twenty-three winters. His hair was
long, straight, and black, besides being uncommonly glossy--an effect
attributable to the prevalence of whale-oil in these regions. On the
forehead the locks were cut short, so as to afford free scope to his
black eyes and sturdy-looking nose. By his side lay a long hunting
spear, and a double-bladed paddle, fully fifteen feet long; which latter
belonged to a kayak, or Esquimau canoe, that lay on the sand close to
the water's edge. Sitting there, motionless as the rocks around him,
the giant looked like a colossal statue of an Esquimau. He was no
figure of stone, however, but a veritable human being, as was proved by
his starting suddenly from his reverie and hastening towards the spring
before mentioned, at which he stooped and drank rapidly, like one who
had to make up for lost time.
After a few hurried gulps, the man strode towards his canoe; but as he
went his restless eye became fixed on the branching antlers of a deer,
that were tossed in the air on the summit of a neighbouring cliff. Like
one who is suddenly paralysed, the Esquimau stood transfixed in the
attitude in which he had been arrested. He did not even seem to
breathe, as the antlers moved to and fro, clearly defined against the
blue sky. At length they disappeared, and the animal to which they
belonged slowly descended a ravine towards the river. Then, as if set
free from a spell, the man glided into his kayak, and swept rapidly but
noiselessly behind a projecting point of rock, where he waited patiently
till the deer took to the water. He had not long to wait, however, for
in a few minutes afterwards the deer, followed by several companions,
walked out upon the patch of sand, snuffed the air once or twice, and
entered the stream with the intention of crossing.
But there was an enemy near whom they little dreamed of--not an enemy
who would dash excitedly into the midst of them, or awaken the thunders
of the place with his noisy gun, but a foe who could patiently bide his
time, and take cool and quiet advantage of it when it came. When the
deer had proceeded about a hundred yards into the river, the Esquimau
dipped his paddle twice, and the narrow, sharp-pointed canoe, which, at
a short distance, seemed little more than a floating plank, darted
through the water and ranged alongside of the startled animals. The
fattest of the herd was separated from its fellows and driven towards
the shore from which it had started, while the others struggled across
the river. Once or twice the separated deer endeavoured to turn to
rejoin its comrades--an attempt which was frustrated by the Esquimau,
who could paddle infinitely faster over the water in his skin canoe than
the deer could swim. As they neared the shore, the giant cast on it one
or two glances, and having made up his mind as to the most convenient
spot for landing, he urged the point of his canoe between the antlers of
the deer, and steered it in this manner to the sand-bank. The deer,
thus directed, had no resource but to land where its persecutor chose;
but no sooner did its foot touch ground, than it sprang convulsively
forward in the vain hope to escape. The same instant its captor's canoe
shot beside it. Grasping the long lance before mentioned in his hand,
he placed its glittering point on the deer's side, tickled it slowly to
ascertain that it was between two ribs, and, with a quick thrust,
stabbed it to the heart. A convulsive shudder, as the deer's head sank
in the stream, proved that, though cold-blooded in appearance, the
action was more effective and less cruel than many other more approved
methods of killing game.
Our Esquimau thought neither of the method of slaying his deer nor of
man's opinion regarding it. His sole object was to procure supper,
having tasted nothing since early morning; and the manner in which he
ate showed at once the strength of his appetite and his total
indifference to cookery, for he ate it raw. There was a certain
appearance of haste in all his actions which, however, seemed
unaccountable, considering the peaceful nature of the vast solitudes
around him. Scarcely had he cut off and devoured a portion of the deer
than he hastened again to his canoe, and darted like an arrow from the
shore. This is no exaggerated simile. The long, thin, sharp Esquimau
kayak is highly suggestive of an arrow in its form, and much more so in
its extraordinary speed. It consists of an extremely light framework of
wood covered with sealskin parchment, which is stretched upon it all
over as tight as a drum. The top of the canoe being covered as well as
the bottom, it is thus, as it were, decked; and a small hole in the
middle of this deck admits its occupant. The kayak can only hold one
person. The paddle, as already said, is a long pole with a blade at
each end. It is dipped alternately on each side, and is used not only
to propel the kayak, but to prevent it from upsetting. Indeed, so
liable is it to upset that nothing but the wonderful adroitness of its
occupant prevents it from doing so with every swing of his body.
Quick, however, though the kayak sped over the rippling wave, it could
not have escaped the messenger of death that seemed about to be
dispatched after it by a dark-skinned, red-painted Indian, who, at the
moment the vessel left the shore, leapt from behind a rocky point, and,
levelling a long gun, took a steady aim at the unconscious Esquimau. A
little puff of powder answered to the click of the lock, as the gun
missed fire. With an exclamation of anger the savage seized his
powder-horn to reprime, when a rude grasp was laid on his shoulder, and
another Indian, who, from the eagle feather in his hair, and his general
bearing, appeared to be a chief, exclaimed--
"Fool! you have the impatience of a woman, and you have not yet shown
that you have the heart of a man. Would the scalp of yon
Eater-of-raw-flesh pay us for coming so far from our hunting-grounds?
If your gun had spoken among these mountains, we would have found the
empty wigwams of his people, instead of fringing our belts with their
scalps."
With a frown of anger the chief turned on his heel and retraced his
steps into the ravine from which he had emerged, followed by his abashed
and silent companion.
Meanwhile the Esquimau, ignorant of the fate from which he had just
escaped, continued to ply his paddle with right good will. The little
craft, obedient to the powerful impulse, combined as it was with the
current of the ebb-tide, flew rather than floated toward the narrows,
through which it passed, and opened up a view of the ice-encumbered
waters of Ungava Bay. Directing his course along the western shores of
the river, the Esquimau speedily reached the coast at a point where
several low, rough-built summer huts clustered near the shore. Here he
ran his kayak into a little creek, and, having lifted it beyond tide
mark, betook himself to his dwelling.