The skin boat, propelled by the oars of the women, approached the
shores. On the bundles of caribou skins which were piled up in the
stern, steering cautiously through the floes of drift ice that dotted
the surface of the sea, sat Pakkak, the boat-owner. The boat was
heavily laden and a strong tide was running so that the women had
to exert themselves, two on each oar, to make headway. Pakkak’s son
accompanied the boat in his kayak. He had been out seal hunting in
order to keep the traveling party supplied with provisions. The seals
lay on the narrow deck of his boat which zig-zagged swiftly through the
water, propelled by the strokes of the single paddle which he held in
the middle, and which struck the water, now at the right and now at the
left.
The young man was the first to reach the shore. He brought his boat
sideways close to the beach and climbed out of the small central hatch
in which he had been sitting. He took off his harpoon and lance, his
bird spear and float from under the holding thongs. Then he unlashed
the seals, and hauled them ashore. After everything had been taken off,
he lifted the light boat out of the water, turned it over, put his head
into the opening and carried it up the shore.
Meanwhile, the whole party in the large boat had reached the land. It
was nearly high water. The travelers jumped ashore. The children and
old people scrambled out of the boat, and the tent covers, poles and
household goods were taken ashore. The caribou skins, which were the
spoils of the summer’s hunt inland, were deposited on a dry spot. While
the women climbed the barren hills to gather brush for building a fire,
the men hauled up the boat, and put up the tent. The framework was
quickly set up, the skin cover was thrown over it, and the lower part
of the skin was ballasted with stones. When the women came back, the
shrubs were put down in the rear of the tent. They were covered with
heavy caribou skins, and thus the bed of the family was prepared. The
seals were put down at the right and left of the doorway, inside.
After a short time, the boats of Pakkak’s brothers came in. They had
started together in the morning, but had made unequal progress through
the lanes of water that opened between the shifting ice floes. After
unloading the boats, the brothers also put up their tents.
Some of the women had piled up the fuel nearby. Pakkak fanned into
flames the smoldering slow match which he was carrying along. As
soon as he had obtained fire, the shrubs were lighted. Meanwhile,
the hunter had opened one of the seals and removed the skin with the
attached blubber. He cut off pieces of the blubber and threw them into
the flames. The rectangular kettle, hollowed out of a block of soft
soapstone, was filled with water and placed over the fire. The seal
meat was put into it, and soon the water began to boil. When the meat
was done, the men and women had finished their work, and Pakkak stood
next to the kettle and shouted, “Boiled meat, boiled meat!”
The men sat down in a circle near the fire. The women formed another
circle. Pakkak took one piece of the meat out of the kettle, and handed
it to one of the men; he gave another piece to one of the women. The
first person bit into the meat and cut off a mouthful close to his
lips. Then he passed the meat to his neighbor, who in the same way cut
off a mouthful and passed the meat on. Thus, the whole company was
provided for.
The travelers were tired from their exertions, and retired to their
beds in the rear of the tent where the whole family lay down, their
heads toward the door. They covered themselves with the large blanket
of caribou skins which extended over the whole width of the bed from
one side of the tent to the other.
Pakkak and his brothers, and Usuk, the half-witted old bachelor who
lived with them, were the first to arrive at the place of the winter
village, but within a few days other families came, who had been
hunting in various districts. Men and women would sit together until
late at night, telling of their summer experiences and of their success
in hunting. Pakkak and his brothers had been hunting on the shores of
the inland lake to which they used to resort, where they had fallen in
with large herds of caribou. Some of the men drove the animals into the
water, while others pursued them in their frail boats. The animals were
easily overtaken and killed with the lance.
Pakkak was the oldest one of five brothers who were all skillful
hunters, and provided well for their families. They were renowned for
their daring and enterprise. Therefore, their friendship was valued
and their enmity feared. Pakkak was held in particular awe, for he was
not only strong in body and skilled in the use of the knife, lance and
bow, but he was endowed with supernatural powers. As a child he had
sat on the knees of the old medicine man, Shark, who had been known
to visit the moon and the great deity that controls the supply of sea
animals. Through contact with him, the supernatural power had passed
into Pakkak’s body, and now his services were needed whenever sickness
and famine visited the village. Thus it happened, that Pakkak and his
brothers were both sought as protectors and shunned as possessed of
unusual power.
Pakkak did not misuse his power, but one of his brothers, Ikeraping,
was rash in anger and overbearing in manner, and he was feared and
hated. If it had not been for the combined strength of the brothers,
the people of the winter village would have agreed to do away with
Ikeraping in order to rid themselves of his aggressions.
Among the later arrivals was No-tongue, whose party had been
unsuccessful in the summer hunt. He had hunted in the narrow valleys
between the ice covered highlands, and by mischance he had come at a
time when the caribou had left for another feeding ground. He had only
a few skins for his whole family, hardly sufficient to provide himself,
his old mother Petrel, his wife, Attina, and his children, with the
necessary winter clothing. However, he was not greatly perturbed. He
relied upon good luck and the help of his friends who might be expected
to assist him, in case they should have skins to spare.
Gradually, one party after another arrived, and on the island which
a short time ago had been solitary and quiet, little groups of huts
sprang up and there was great activity. The women were busy with their
household duties, getting fuel and mending clothes, while the men went
out hunting in their kayaks and brought home game for their evening
meal. The skins of the seals were scraped by the women, and stretched
on the ground to be dried and later on worked into tent covers.
The wind had shifted seaward, and the floating ice had been driven away
from the shore. It was getting cold, and the ponds began to be covered
with a thin sheet of ice. Before the sea began to freeze over, it was
necessary to bring the dogs back from the islands on which they had
been placed over summer, and where they lived on what they could find
on the beach or what they could hunt on the hills. Only a few of them
had been taken along on the summer hunt, and with them were brought
back a few litters of pups that were carefully nursed by the women.
When the new ice began to form on the sea, the hunters could not go
out any more in their boats, because the sharp edges of the ice would
have cut the skin covers. For a few days, all were confined to the
land. The hunters brought in ptarmigans and hares, but everybody looked
anxiously forward to the time when the ice would be strong enough for
the hunters to go out. A few days without new supplies are likely to
empty the larder all too quickly. Besides, it was getting cold, and
work on winter clothing could not be started until the sea was covered
with ice. The Sea-Goddess would take bitter revenge if such a sin were
committed.
This year the weather was favorable, and the anxious days between
summer and winter were not needlessly prolonged. After three cold days,
the men could go out on the sea ice and wait at the edge of the open
water for the seals to come up to breathe. Since the wind had brought
back the drifting ice, the stretch of open water was not very wide, and
the seals came near enough to be harpooned without difficulty, and to
be drawn up to the ice. It was even possible to venture out in the open
water in the kayak, for the ice was not forming very rapidly. Thus an
ample supply of meat was obtained.
Meanwhile, the women were busy scraping and cleaning the caribou
skins, and making the winter clothing for the family—the warm shirts
and drawers of young caribou skins, and the heavy jackets and trousers
of heavy skins; the stockings of light skins of young caribou, and
the boots made from the skin of caribou legs, with soles of ground
sealskins. Poor No-tongue had just enough for his family, and a few
skins to spare. Unfortunately the catch of the whole community had been
rather light, notwithstanding Pakkak’s good luck.
From now on, the men went out regularly every morning and came back in
the evening, generally with an ample catch. One day they had gone out
again and were scattered along the edge of the ice, watching for seals.
During the day the sky clouded up, and a strong, seaward wind began to
blow. It increased in strength, and an ominous cracking of the ice gave
warning of danger. Hurriedly the men loaded their sledges, and sped
landward. Under their feet the ice began to crack and to yield to the
pressure of the wind, but they succeeded in reaching land before the
floe gave way and drifted out to sea.
Only No-tongue’s sledge was missing. He had been hunting on a
projecting point of ice, and before he was even aware of his danger,
the whole point had broken off and was rapidly drifting out to sea.
There was nothing for him to do but yield to his fate, and see whether
the gale would exhaust itself soon, and whether by chance the floe that
carried him might be blown back to land. Fortunately he had just killed
a seal. He flensed it and made a little shelter of the fresh hide.
His lance had to serve as a tent pole. He protected his tent cover
against the wind by piling snow all over it. He made a receptacle for
the blubber out of a piece of skin, and thus improvised a little lamp.
Fortunately, too, he carried his fire drill and a little of the moss
which is used for wicks; so that he was able to start a little fire in
his shelter. The gale was still blowing, and the angry waves threatened
to break up the floe on which he was drifting. When day dawned the
land was far away. Soon, however, the wind subsided, and a swift tide
carried the ice floe back, nearer and nearer the land.
It had grown very cold. An icy slush was forming on the surface of the
sea and the waves were rapidly calming down. The breaking up of the
floe which seemed imminent through the night was no longer to be feared
and immediate danger of drowning had passed. Still it was doubtful
how the drift would end. With the changing tide, the current changed
again, and the floe drifted away from the shore. The play of tides
continued for days. Now the shore seemed near, so that the hopes of
No-tongue were raised to a high pitch, and now the shore receded. In
these days of anxiety No-tongue never lost courage, but, mocking his
own misfortune, he composed this song:
Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
Aya, there is nothing but ice around me, that is good!
Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
My country is nothing but slush, that is good!
Aya, I am joyful; this is good!
Aya, when indeed, will this end? this is good!
I am tired of watching and waking, this is good!
His endurance and patience were finally rewarded. After a week of
privations, he reached the shore not very far from the winter village.
A few days of hard travel over the ice covered sea, and rocky hills
brought him home to his family and friends. They had almost given him
up for lost.
* * * * *
As it grew colder the light tent no longer offered adequate protection.
The women sewed a new cover of sealskins and gathered loads of brush.
They placed them on the outside of the summer tent, and spread the new
covers over the whole structure. The door flap was also transformed
into a solid wall, and only a low opening was left, through which the
people had to pass, stooping down low. This darkened the inside of the
tent, which before had been fairly light because the front part of the
tent cover was made of the transparent inner membrane of sealskin.
Therefore the lamps were put into place. The long, rectangular entrance
of the tent with its roof-shaped cover still served for keeping
provisions, but just in front of the beds, the soapstone lamps—long
crescent-shaped vessels—were placed. The wife of the tent owner took
her seat on the bed in front of the lamp, where she sat in kneeling
position letting her body rest between her heels. The lamp was filled
with blubber that had been chewed to release the oil, and the straight
front edge of the lamp was provided with a wick of moss which, when
carefully treated with the bone pointer, gave an even, yellow flame
that lighted and heated the hut pleasantly.
Soon the snow began to fall, and the autumnal gales packed it solid in
every hollow in the ground, and piled it up against the sides of the
huts. The heather-like shrubs were deeply buried under the snow, and
all domestic work had to be done inside. The soapstone cooking vessels
were placed over the lamps, and all the meals were prepared in the
house. The entrance to the hut was protected against the cold by a
low passage, built of snow. As it grew colder, the snow accumulated,
and most of the people exchanged their tents for snow houses. The men
cut out of an even snow bank blocks about thirty inches by eighteen
inches high, and six inches wide. These they placed on edge, in the
form of a circle. At one point, the upper edge of the row was cut down
to the ground, and then sliced down to the right, so that it slanted
up gradually. At the place where it had been cut down, a new block of
snow was put on, leaning against the end of the first row and slightly
inclined inward. One man was cutting the snow blocks outside, while
his helper was placing the blocks from the inside,—each block being
inclined slightly more inward so that a spiral wall was gradually
formed. Finally the key block was inserted, and the builder cut a
little door through which he came out. In the rear half of the circular
room, a platform was built for the bed which was elevated a couple of
feet above the ground, and at the same level, at the right and left of
the entrance, a bank was erected. The bed platform was covered with
shrubs and skins. The tent cover was used to line the inside of the
snow house, being held to the wall by means of pegs and ropes, thus
protecting the snow against the heat of the living room. The lamps were
put in place on each side of the front of the bed platform, and the
pots were hung over them. In front, just above the door, a window was
cut which was covered with a translucent sheet, made of seal intestines
sewed together, and a series of low vaulted structures was erected in
front of the door, forming a passageway which protected the inside
against the wind.
When everything was done the family moved into the snow house. Two
families occupied one house and each housewife had her seat in front of
her lamp. The stores of meat were placed on the platforms at the right
and left. Now the regular winter life began. It was bitter cold. The
dogs huddled together in the entrance passages of the snow houses.
Early in the morning, the men went out to the sledges. The shoeing of
the runners, which were made of split and polished bone of whale, was
covered with a thin sheet of ice. The hunter took some water in his
mouth, and allowed it to run slowly over the shoeing. Then he polished
it with his mittened hand. After the icing had been made smooth, he
turned the sledge right side up. The harpoon was lashed on, the knife
was suspended from the antlers that form the back of the sledge, which
are used in steering it through rough ice. The hunters then put the
dogs in harness. The light team started down to the beach. During
the continued cold weather, the rise and fall of the high tides was
forming a broken mass of heavy ice on the beach which, as the winter
progressed, was constantly increasing in thickness. A beaten path led
down through the broken masses to smooth floe. The sledge sped down,
and the hunters went off to the sealing ground. At first the unwilling
dogs had to be coaxed to go forward, and even spurred on by cries and
by the use of the short handled whip, which the driver handled with
skill and accuracy, calling upon the lazy dogs, and hitting them at the
same time with the points of the whip. Gradually, the dogs warmed up,
and ran along swiftly over the smooth floe. When they reached a part of
the ice that was broken up by gales, and in which the uplifted floes
were frozen together, the driver had to lift his sledge over the sharp
edges and broken masses, and progress was slow and difficult.
Finally the hunting ground was reached. The dogs took the scent of the
breathing hole of a seal, and they rushed forward with such speed that
the driver could hardly restrain them. At some distance from the hole
he succeeded in stopping his team. He tied the dogs to a hummock so
that they should not run away and then he inspected the seal hole to
see whether it was still being visited by the seal. It was completely
covered by snow, and discernible only to the experienced eye. He piled
up a few blocks of snow on which he sat down. He laid his harpoon down
cautiously, and waited. For hours he remained seated there, waiting for
the snorting of the seal. The slightest noise would frighten away the
wary animal, and, notwithstanding the intense cold, the hunter could
not stir. At last he heard the seal. Cautiously he lifted his harpoon,
and sent it down vertically into the snow. It hit the seal which tried
in vain to escape. The hunter broke the snow covering of the hole, and
hauled the animal upon the ice where, with a swift blow on the head, he
killed it. Before he loaded it on his sledge he cut it open, and took
out the liver which served him as lunch.
Meanwhile the short day had come to an end! The dogs were harnessed
to the sledge, and the hunters returned home. When they arrived, they
unloaded the sledge, unharnessed the dogs, and took off the heavy
outer clothing. The hunter patted his coat carefully to remove the
ice formed by the freezing of his breath. Then he put his coat in the
storeroom and entered the house. As soon as he came in he took off his
sealskin slippers, bird-skin slippers and stockings, which protected
his feet against the cold, and his wife placed them on the rack over
the lamp to dry. Then she looked them over and mended them carefully so
that they should be ready on the following day.
When all the hunters had come back, those who had brought home no game
flocked to the house of one of the successful hunters, who butchered
his seal and gave to each man a share to eat in the house, or to take
home to his family. They talked over the events of the day until late
at night.
* * * * *
This life had been going on quietly for all, without exciting events,
when No-tongue’s youngest child became ill. The boy refused food and
drink, and household remedies did not avail. In her anxiety for the
life of her darling, Attina appealed to Pakkak and asked him to find
out what ailed the child, and if possible to cure him. Pakkak went
to No-tongue’s hut. As soon as he came in, the lamps were lowered.
He sat down on the bed facing the rear wall of the hut and began his
incantation. His body shook violently when he called his protecting
spirits to help him. He uttered unintelligible sounds and cries.
Finally his incantation stopped. He addressed himself to Attina and
said, “Have you sinned? Have you eaten forbidden food? Have you done
forbidden work? What tabus have you transgressed?” She had asked
herself what she might have done to bring about her child’s sickness,
and she remembered that she had scraped the frost from the window of
her house, and that she had eaten seal meat and caribou meat on the
same day.
She replied, at once, “I confess! I have scraped frost from the window
of my house. I have eaten caribou meat and seal meat on the same day. I
have sinned.”
Pakkak replied, “It is well, my daughter that you have confessed. Now
the evil consequences of your sins are forgiven. The black halo that
I saw surrounding your body, and that has affected your child, has
disappeared and the boy will soon recover.”
The lamps were lighted again. The confession of Attina’s transgressions
had appeased the supernatural powers and therefore the parents hoped
for the recovery of their son.
For a while the little boy seemed to improve, but suddenly he suffered
a severe relapse, and before the help of Pakkak could be summoned, he
died. At once No-tongue prepared to bury the boy. He stuffed his own
nostrils with caribou hair to prevent contamination by the exhalation
from the corpse. The limbs were tied up with thongs and No-tongue
carried his dead child out of the hut and up the hills. There he cut
the thongs, and thus released the soul of the child. No-tongue covered
the body with a vault of stones, being careful that no stone should
weigh on it. He deposited the child’s toys and returned home. For three
days the whole family stayed in the house. No-tongue did not go out
a-hunting. Attina did not clean her lamps. She did not move the caribou
skin of the bed. She did not mend any clothing. To transgress these
rules would have resulted in new misfortunes.
After four days all the members of the family threw away their clothing
which had been contaminated by the breath of the dead child, and it was
only with the greatest difficulty that they secured enough skins from
their neighbors to make a new set for the whole family. Through the
charity of friends they were finally provided for.
The death of the child, and the cares of the family weighed heavily on
the mind of Petrel, No-tongue’s mother. He himself was light-hearted
and consoled himself with the thought that they might have other
children in the future; but she was an old woman, and felt that she
could not carry the burden of her years much longer. She loved her son
and her grandchildren, and the thought haunted her mind that she might
die in the hut, and that they might be compelled to throw away another
set of winter clothing and be exposed to the hardships of the winter
without adequate protection. If only she could die away from home,
and thus spare her dear ones the consequences of another sickness and
death. The thought preyed on her mind and finally she resolved to end
her own life.
The long Arctic night had set in, and only at noon came the sun near
enough to the horizon to spread the faint light of dawn over the ice
and mountains. One night when it was bitterly cold and the snow was
drifting, lashed by a strong wind, old Petrel left the house and walked
across the ice to a small island. There in a nook of barren rocks she
piled up a wall of stones, and sat down behind it, in order to allow
herself to freeze to death. Her thoughts dwelled with her children,
and she was satisfied that she was not going to die of sickness in her
bed, for then her future life would have been one of agony and torture
in the lower world where there is only want and famine, where cold and
struggle prevail all the year round. By choosing her own death she
looked forward to a happy life in the upper world. There she was going
to play ball, and her friends would see her joyful motions in the rays
of the Aurora Borealis. She would enjoy comfort and plenty and the
cares of this world, as well as the tortures of the lower world would
be spared her. Her limbs became numb with the cold and she went to
sleep, her mind filled with pleasant visions.
During the night Attina roused herself to trim her lamp. She chanced
to look about, and noticed that Petrel was not there. She called her
husband who at once guessed what had happened. He gave the alarm
and soon all the sledges were out. No tracks were to be seen in the
drifting snow, and the whole party scattered in different directions
to search for the old woman. To right and left along the coast, north
and south they went on their sledges. Usuk, the bachelor, who did
menial work for Pakkak, had joined the party. He, the despised and
ridiculed one, found the old woman in time to save her from death.
Notwithstanding her resistance, he carried her to his sledge, and
hurried home. She was taken into the house, covered with a warm blanket
and scolded for the unnecessary worry that she had given to her family
and to her neighbors. She was ill-satisfied with her rescue, but
submitted to the friendly influence of her light-hearted son.
It seemed that with this event the ill luck of No-tongue had spent
itself, and the rest of the winter passed quietly. The weather was
propitious and no long continued gales kept the hunters at home. The
snow was hard and crisp so that the hunting ground could be reached
without difficulty. Early in February, the first rays of the sun
struck the high mountains and although the cold was still intense, the
daylight made hunting and work easier.
Now and then visitors came in from distant villages to see their
relatives. Everybody flocked to the hut where they were visiting, to
hear the news. There was much to tell about success in hunting, about
marriage and birth, sickness and death. For months, the village had
been cut off from all intercourse with the outside world, because the
strong currents that washed the foot of the promontories prevented the
formation of ice, and only after the cold had continued long enough,
was the sea covered by a continuous floe, which allowed the villagers
to travel unhampered from place to place.
One day a number of travelers were discovered, whose sledge, dogs and
gait did not seem familiar. The news spread rapidly through the village
and the women and children assembled on a point of vantage, straining
their eyes in an attempt to discover who the visitors were. Soon,
Pakkak recognized an old friend who lived many days’ journey away, and
whom he had not seen for many years. He shouted, “There is Eiderduck.”
When the women knew that the visitors were friends of Pakkak, they
burst forth in song and laughter. They waved their arms and jumped
about. The frightened children hid, crying, behind their mothers. Most
of the men went down to the ground ice to meet the strangers, and
to help them to unload their sledges. Pakkak led Eiderduck and his
companions to a snow house, and treated them hospitably with frozen
seal meat.
While they were eating, the people crowded into the house. They sat on
the bed platform, and squatted on the floor until there was no more
room. Those who could not get into the house crouched in the entrance
to get a glimpse of the visitors, and to hear what they had to say. All
the older people had some friends in the villages through which the
travelers had passed, and therefore their reports were listened to with
keenest interest, interest which communicated itself to the younger
generation, who thus learned about the family relationships and the
history of all the people who lived many miles up and down the coast
line.
One of the saddest stories that Eiderduck had to tell was that of some
people who had been caribou hunting in the fjord Muddy-Water. In the
fall, when they were preparing to move camp, the frost set in very
suddenly, covering the sea with ice. Heavy snows fell in calm weather.
The sledges and the dogs sank deeply into the soft snow so that the
people were practically unable to move. Soon they were starving.
Many died. In one house lived an old woman with her three sons and
a daughter. Her oldest son, Powlak, decided to go to the neighboring
village to seek aid of the people. He left his only surviving dog with
his mother, that she might use it for food after he was gone. Then he
started on his dangerous tramp through the soft snow.
A short time after Powlak had left, his mother missed the dog. She
went in search of it, and found that its footprints led to one of the
neighboring huts and did not come out again. For some time no sound
had been heard in that hut. She thought that the people were dead and
she had avoided going in. Now, however, when she needed the dog, she
overcame her fear. She called in through the entrance and found that
the people were alive, although hardly able to stir. She asked, “Is my
dog here?” The house owner denied that it was there, saying that she
had not seen it. The old woman, however, searched, and finally when she
lifted the heather on the bed she found its skinned body. She became
very angry and took the meat. The people were so weak and famished that
they could not resist. She took the dog home and she and her children
lived on it. Her neighbors soon died of exhaustion. The pangs of hunger
had so hardened Powlak’s mother, at other times a kind-hearted woman,
that she only thought of her own salvation, and felt no pity for the
sufferings of others.
When Powlak reached the neighboring village, he found that the people
had caught two whales in the fall of the preceding year. He told them
that the people in Muddy-Water were starving,—that a few had tried to
reach other places, but that they must have perished in the attempt,
since nothing had been heard from them. Powlak’s friends were very
kind to him. They gave him food to eat and for a few days they did
not let him return to his starving mother. They said to him, “Stay
here. Why do you want to perish? Your mother, your brothers and your
sister are certainly dead by this time.” Powlak, however, said, “I am
sure they are alive.” When he insisted on returning as soon as he had
recuperated, his friends gave him an old dog and a whale-bone toboggan
which they loaded with whale meat, skin and blubber. He started on his
way back.
When he reached his home after untold difficulties, he went to the
window of his mother’s hut and asked, standing outside, “Are you all
dead?” His mother replied, “There is life in us yet.” Then he went
in, gave them the whale meat and whale skin, and learned of what had
happened during his absence. The food which he had obtained gave him
the strength to go out, and he had the good fortune to find a seal hole
and as the season progressed, conditions became better and he was able
to supply his family with food and clothing. A great number of the
villagers, however, had starved to death....
It was late in the night when the crowd began to dwindle leaving
Eiderduck and the other visitors to sleep.
* * * * *
As the season progressed and the sun rose, the seals whelped. The
skin of the young seal is white and wooly and highly prized for warm
clothing. Therefore, the whole village set out to hunt for them. The
dogs take the scent of the seal hole, and the poor pup is dragged out
with a hook and the hunter kills it by stepping on it.
One day when Pakkak was out hunting young seals, he found himself
suddenly confronted by a great polar bear, which was also out in
pursuit of seals. He always made it a point to raise good hunting dogs,
and the large wolf-like gray creatures were eager to attack the bear
which tried to escape. Pakkak never hesitated when there was a chance
to get a bear. He cut the traces of two of his strongest dogs, which
ran in pursuit. When the bear saw that the dogs were about to overtake
him, it climbed an iceberg and took its position on a narrow ledge
where its back was protected by the sheer ice wall. It sat up on its
haunches. The dogs scrambled up the slippery ice, and when Pakkak saw
that they held the bear at bay, he cut the traces of the others, jumped
off the sledge, and approached lance in hand. His knife was hanging in
its scabbard at his side.
The bear defended itself with its paws and teeth, and already one of
the dogs lay bleeding on the ice. The bear, however, could not move on
account of the swift attacks of the dogs. Pakkak approached fearlessly.
With a swift throw he tried to pierce the bear’s heart His position was
dangerous. The bear held the ledge, and by a single movement of its
forelegs might throw the hunter down the steep side of the iceberg.
With a swing of its powerful forelegs, it broke the lance. If Pakkak
had not jumped back, he might have been caught in the embrace of the
bear. There was nothing to do now, but attack the bear with the long
hunting knife. He approached again, and watched until the bear, turning
to the worrying dogs, exposed its side. Then with a powerful stroke,
Pakkak stabbed it in the side. However, he was not quick enough, and,
with its claws, the bear tore a deep gash in his shoulder. Then it
rolled over, and fell down to the ice floe.
Without paying any attention to his wound, Pakkak skinned the bear and
butchered it and rolled it on the sledge. He spliced the traces of the
dogs and turned back home where his success was greeted with joy.
Then Pakkak tied the bladder and gall of the bear, together with his
drill, to the tip of his spear which he put upright in the ground in
front of his house. By this rite, the bear’s soul which remains for
three days with the body, must be appeased.
The people asked Pakkak about his wound and his battle with the bear.
He scoffed at the danger in which he had been pretending that to kill
a fierce bear was to him no more of a task than to harpoon a harmless
seal. His wife tended his wound, which was so deep that it took weeks
to heal.
* * * * *
One day, No-tongue had been out sealing with Pakkak’s brother,
Ikeraping. As luck would have it he was very successful, while
Ikeraping, the strong and skillful hunter, had not killed a single
seal. This annoyed Ikeraping, who was ashamed to go home without game.
Therefore, he demanded of No-tongue that he should give up his seals to
him. No-tongue refused, but Ikeraping became so furious and aggressive
that No-tongue, who was by nature timid, gave way and let him have
what he wanted. The injustice, however, rankled in No-tongue’s mind.
It was not the first time that Ikeraping had lorded it over No-tongue,
and No-tongue was afraid that sometime, in a quarrel with Ikeraping,
he might be killed. No-tongue talked the matter over with the other
people, but they were all too much afraid of Ikeraping and Pakkak and
their brothers, to venture to do away with the aggressive Ikeraping.
Now No-tongue was prompted to leave the village in which he had spent
many years. For a long time he had been talking of the distant home
from which he had come with his mother, when he was a very young man.
At that time he wanted to see the world, and he had drifted from
village to village along the whole coast line until finally he had
settled down with his wife. The memory of his old home had never left
him, and he longed to go back and see his relatives and the scenes of
his childhood. The quarrel with Ikeraping strengthened his decision to
leave this year, despite the ties which held him to the village where
his children were born and were growing up.
Although the feeding of many dogs was a burden, on account of the
large amount of meat they demanded, No-tongue had strengthened his dog
team by raising a number of pups. He had now an excellent team of ten
dogs. His sledge was in good repair. And so, before the melting of the
snow made traveling difficult, No-tongue was determined to depart. His
wife would accompany him into the distant country which, to her, was a
foreign land. It would take several years to accomplish the journey.
The departure of No-tongue was the beginning of the breaking up of
the winter village. The families were already planning for the summer
hunt. Soon, the brooks would be running. The walrus would come near the
shore. Whales would come blowing in the open water. Salmon would ascend
the rivers. Young geese would be plentiful, and the caribou would come
back. The time of happiness was approaching of which No-tongue once
sang:
Ayaya, beautiful is the great world when summer is coming at last!
Ayaya, beautiful is the great world when the caribou begin to come!
Ayaya, when the little brooks roar in our country.
Ayaya, I feel sorry for the gulls, for they cannot speak,
Ayaya, I feel sorry for the ravens, for they cannot speak.
Ayaya, if I cannot catch birds I quickly get plenty of fish.
Ayaya!