Left on Labrador

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"Wade will rally when worst comes to worst, and be the head man in
extremities."

"Do you think so?"

"I do. Wade is kind of hot-blooded, you know. Being left here so
sudden struck him all in a heap. But he will show blood yet, if it
comes to a real hand-to-hand struggle to save our lives. A boy that
took his musket, and went right into a fair, stand-up battle of his
own accord, as they say Wade did, won't give in here without showing
us another side to his character. One thing, he feels the cold here
worse than we do: it pinches him all up. But he will come out of his
dumps yet. Don't badger him: he won't leave his bones here. Seriously,
I have more fear for Weymouth and Donovan than for Wade. That is most
always the way where there's hardship and suffering. Your great,
strong, thoughtless fellow is the first to give out and fail up. You
mark my words, now. If we have to undertake this journey, Weymouth and
Donovan will be the first to sicken and fall behind. I don't believe
they would ever get through it. But, after the first three days, Wade
would lead us all. He will sort of rally and rise as the peril and
hardship increase. He is kind of discouraged now, because he sees
what's before us, and has to muster his energies to meet it; but he is
getting a reserve of will-force in store. There's a good deal in that,
I tell you! A strong will has carried many a fellow through hardships
that would have killed men of twice the muscle without the will; and
that's the way it will be with our two sailors, I'm afraid."

"But I am not in favor of making this trip overland," Kit added after
we had sat musing a few minutes.

"What do you propose?"

"I think it best to work out of the straits in our boat, if we can."

I had thought of that plan.

"We could make a sail out of this walrus-hide, and watch our chance
with a favorable breeze to scud us along from islet to islet on the
south side here. We could run down into Ungava Bay, clean to the foot
of it; and then, leaving the boat, go across to Nain. It couldn't be
more than a hundred and fifty miles from the foot of the bay. We could
start off, and, with a strong spurt, do it in a week from that place,
I think. We should, at least, be sure of getting seals for food. But
Raed don't think it best."

"Why not?"

"Well, he says, that, by the time we get into Ungava Bay, it will
begin to freeze ice nights, enough to stop us. He thinks, too, that we
should suffer a good deal more from cold on the water than on the
land. Then we should have to wait for favorable winds, and be laid up
through storms, besides the danger of getting capsized in gusts, and
caught in the ice-patches. But he has agreed to leave it to the party
to decide. I know the two sailors will vote to go by boat; but I'm not
sure Raed is not right, after all. He's a better judge than any of the
rest of us, I do suppose. I have a horror of starting off inland,
though."

A very reasonable horror, I considered it. Any thing but toiling over
sterile mountains, for me.

We sat there for a long time looking off, pondering the situation.
Suddenly my eye caught on a tiny brown speck far to the northward. I
watched it a moment, then spoke to Kit. He took out his glass and
looked.

"That's some sort of a boat," he said at length. "Brown sail! That's a
Husky boat, I reckon,--an _oomiak_."

I took the glass. The craft was heading southward; coming, it seemed,
either for the islet we were on, or else the large island to the
south-east. I could see black heads under the large irregular sail.

"Coming down to the Labrador side," Kit remarked. "I've heard that
they spend the summer on the north side of the straits; go up in the
spring, and come back here to Labrador in the latter part of the
season."

"There are _kayaks_ with it," he said, with the glass to his
eye,--"one on each side; and there are one or two, perhaps more,
behind."

In the course of an hour it had come down within three miles, bearing
off toward the large island.

"We had best get out of sight, I guess," Kit observed. "Don't care to
attract them or frighten them."

We went back a little behind the rocks; and Kit ran down to tell the
rest of the party. They came back with them,--all but Weymouth, who
was not very well, and had lain down for a nap.

"That's a big _oomiak_!" exclaimed Raed, taking a long look at it.
"One--two--three--five--seven _kayaks_."

"How many do you make out in the big boat?" Kit asked.

"Nineteen--twenty; and I don't know how many behind the sail," Raed
replied.

"Those are the women and children, I suppose," Wade said.

"Wade's thinking of the Husky belles," Kit remarked with a wink to me;
"of the one he gave the scarf to. Let's see: what was her name?"

"_Ikewna_," I suggested.

"I've noticed Wade has been a little _distrait_ for some time," Raed
observed. "Possibly he sighs for the beauteous _Ikewna_!"

Wade laughed.

"Somebody else was a little sweet on a certain yellow-gloved damsel:
rather stout she was, if I recollect aright. Mind who that was, Raed?"

"Ah! you refer to _Pussay_," Raed replied. "Well, she was a trifle
adipose. But that's a merit in this country, I should judge. Lean
folks never could stand these winters."

"And where now is the beautiful '_White Goose_,' I wonder!" Kit
exclaimed.

"And black-eyed _Caubvick_!" said I. "Answer, Echo!"

"This crew may be a part of the same lot," Donovan suggested.

"It isn't likely," said Raed. "We are now a hundred and fifty miles
farther west than the Middle Savage Isles. It is hardly possible. But
I dare say they are as much like them as peas in a pod."

The _oomiak_ passed us about a mile to the eastward, and, approaching
the shore of the large island, was luffed up to the wind handsomely.
More than a dozen dogs leaped out, and went splashing to the shore.
The men landed from the _kayaks_, and, wading out into the water, laid
hold of the _oomiak_, and, guiding it in on the swell, carried it up
high and dry. Several of the children had jumped out with the dogs.
The women, old folks, and younger children, now followed. The shore
fairly swarmed. We could hear them shouting, screaming, and jabbering,
and the dogs barking. Guard looked off and growled slightly, turning
his great dark eyes inquiringly to our faces.

"He don't like the looks of them," said Donovan: "remembers the fuss
he had with them when they chased Palmleaf and him."

"They seem to be preparing to stop there, I should say," Kit remarked.
"They've pulled up the _oomiak_ some way from the water, out of reach
of the tide, and are unloading it. There are quantities of skins,
tents, harpoons, &c. There! they are all starting up from the water,
loaded down with trumpery,--going off from the shore toward the middle
of the island."

They had not seen us; and, after watching them disappear among the
barren hillocks, we went back to our camp for dinner. Unless they came
along to the extreme western end of the large island, they would not
discover our camp. At first, we decided to have nothing to do with
them. We had nothing in the "_chymo_" line except Wade's broken
bayonet. They would only be a nuisance with us.

"But, if we could contrive to make them catch seals for us for fuel,
it might be worth while to cultivate their acquaintance a little," Kit
suggested.

"If we could get a seal a day from them for our fire, it might be a
good plan enough," Wade thought.

"But we've nothing to pay them with; unless we paid them in promises
of iron and knives when our _ship comes back_," I said. "I don't
suppose our greenbacks would be a legal tender with them."

"But, in case 'The Curlew' should _not_ come back, we might not be
able to redeem our promises," Raed remarked.

"In that case," said Kit, "we might as well marry all their daughters,
and take up our abode here. As their sons-in-law, we could perhaps
excuse it to them."

"Possibly the daughters might object to this arrangement," said Wade.

"Why, you don't doubt your ability to win the affections of a Husky
belle, do you?" demanded Kit, laughing.

"I doubt if our accomplishments would be rated very high among the
fair Esquimaux," said Raed. "Not to be able to catch seals is deemed a
great disgrace with them. Our going to them to beg seal-blubber would
be a very black mark. We should be looked upon much in the light of
paupers. No young Husky thinks of proposing to his lady-love till he
has become an expert seal-catcher."

"It seems hard not to be thought eligible even by a Husky family," Kit
observed. "But let's go over there and see what we can do. If we can't
trade with them, we might lay them under contribution by force of
arms. What say to beginning our career as conquerors by subjugating
that island of Esquimaux, and levying a seal-tax? That's the way our
Saxon ancestors first entered England. Has the sanction of history,
you see,--as far down even as the ex-emperor Napoleon III."

"You can't be in earnest," said Raed, suddenly looking round to him.

"I am," said Kit. "Decidedly the easiest way (for us) to deal with
them. If we were to go over there with a show of authority, they
wouldn't make much resistance, I'm very sure. We would take possession
of their _oomiak_. That would hold them to the island. They couldn't
get off without that,--at least, the women and children couldn't; and
the men would not desert their families."

"Now, there's a scheme of rapine worthy of Caesar!" sneered Raed. "Kit,
I am ashamed of you!"

"I don't care. We're in a tight place. I don't mean them any harm.
But, if we are going to be dependent on them for our supplies, it will
be much better for us to have them under our authority. They're a mere
set of ignorant heathens. We know more than they do; and it is but
fair that the wisest should govern."

"That's the very argument the old piratical sea-kings of Norway used
to use!" Raed exclaimed. "It's about a thousand years behind civilized
times!"

"Not so far behind the times as that, I guess," Kit replied. "But I
don't care: this is a force-put with us. We don't want to place
ourselves in the power of those savages. Yet we need their
assistance,--assistance for which we will repay them well when 'The
Curlew' comes,--if it comes. Now, I say it is best for us, and will be
better for them, to have them do as we want them to while we are on
their island."

"In a word, you propose to make slaves of them," remarked Raed. "You
mean to deprive them of their liberty."

"Yes, to a certain extent, I do."

"I am sorry to hear you talk in this way. I hoped no citizen of a free
State would use language like that."

"Sorry to shock your sincere convictions," replied Kit; "but when it
comes to making slaves of others, or being a slave myself, I should
choose the former alternative always."

"But there's no such alternative in this case," Raed argued.

"Not exactly. Still I shall hold to my first opinion. If we are going
to take supplies from them,--as it seems necessary that we should,--I
think it will be better to have them under our control as long as we
are here. You mistake me: I don't justify it from principle; but, as a
temporary measure, I think it expedient."

"So was it expedient for the old Romans to attack and capture Corinth
and Carthage, and just as fair and right."

"That merely shows how history repeats itself," laughed Kit.

"Don't laugh, sir!" cried Raed. "The principle is the same, as if,
with a hundred thousand men at your back, you should land in England,
and undertake to subdue that island instead of this."

"You have a very forcible way of putting things, I'll allow; but
there's danger, Raed, of carrying general principles too far."

"For example," interrupted Wade. "Raed, with a number of other
abolitionists, believed that all men ought to be free: so they kept to
work stirring up bad feeling between the North and South till the war
broke out, when they fell upon us with their armies and fleets, and
committed the most wholesale piece of robbery that ever disgraced
history,--robbed us of several billion dollars' worth of property, all
at one swoop."

"To what sort of property do you refer?" Raed asked.

"Slaves."

"I thought so!"

"Then you are not disappointed in my 'principles,' as you choose to
term them?"

"Not in the least!"

"I, at least, have never tried to conceal them."

"I should expect you to favor Kit's proposition; but I'm sadly
surprised to hear Kit make it."

"Understand me!" exclaimed Kit. "I advocate it merely as a temporary
measure, only justified by our necessity. I mean to pay them for all
we have. But we haven't the pay here. They wouldn't trust us for what
we want. Under these circumstances, I mean to assume the control of
their affairs for a few days or weeks, as the case may be, and get
what we must have by force of authority--till we can pay."

"It's nothing more nor less than robbery, Kit!" cried Raed; "a mere
subterfuge, in open violation of the free principles of the noble land
we hail from!"

"Too bad, I know," said Kit; "but 'needs must where a _certain person_
drives.'"

"Kit, you shock me! Do you not believe in an allwise Providence?"

"Generally speaking, yes."

"A Power that takes care of us?"

"Yes, again; but it's after a sort not very flattering to the personal
vanity of us poor mortals."

"One would naturally suppose, that, situated as we are at present,
where the prospect of our getting through the next six months is so
poor, you would hesitate at provoking that Power by such an act as
this you propose."

"Raed, that's all bosh! If you mean to ask me if I believe that there
is a Power that will interfere miraculously to rescue us from freezing
or starving here, I answer promptly, I do not. God doesn't work so.
Persons have to take the consequences of their own acts in this world,
now-a-days. And as regards tempting Providence by doing any thing of
the sort I proposed,--tempting it to some act of vengeance on
us,--bosh again! God doesn't work that way at all. Besides, to come
back to the subject in hand, I've no conscientious scruples about it;
for I believe it to be the best thing we can do."

"I protest!" Raed exclaimed. "It is neither just nor right!"

"Well, how's this matter to be settled?" Wade demanded. "I suppose so
rigid a republican as Raed will be willing to have it decided by
vote?"

"Yes," said Raed, "though I lament the issue. Call our names, Kit.
Those in favor of Kit's proposition will vote 'Yea:' those who believe
it wrong will vote 'Nay.'"

Kit's voice trembled a little as he began.

"Raed?"

"Nay."

"Wash?"

"Nay."

"Wade?"

"Yea."

"Donovan?"

"Yea."

"Weymouth?"

"Yea."

"Not to include my own vote with the affirmative, there is a majority
in favor of the measure we have just discussed," said Kit gravely.

"Please put it in words," said Raed.

"Why, we all know what I mean," replied Kit.

"But I want to hear it stated," insisted Raed.

"Well, then, there is a majority in favor of the temporary occupation
and control of yonder island,--a measure justified by our necessity."

"You have put it very mildly," remarked Raed. "I should give it in
very different terms. Kit, I am disgusted with this movement. I can't
give it any sympathy whatever."

"You are not going to _secede_, I hope," sneered Wade.

"I am not," said Raed, turning in a passion. "I am, I hope, too good a
patriot to be a secessionist, much less a _rebel_."

For a moment they looked straight at each other. Wade's eyes snapped,
and his hands clinched.

"Here, here!--come, none of that!" exclaimed Kit, "or I'll thrash both
of you. Wade, you are to blame. You said the first unkind thing. You
ought to ask his pardon."

"He needn't do that," said Raed. "I was to blame as well as he."

"Well, that's magnanimous!" exclaimed Wade, suddenly relenting.
"Beg'e' pardon, old fellow! I _was_ to blame."

And we all laughed, in spite of the qualms sticking in our throats.

CHAPTER XIV.

We set up a Military Despotism on "Isle Aktok."--"No Better
than Filibusters!"--The Seizure of the Oomiak.--The
Seal-Tax.--A Case of Discipline.--_Wutchee_ and
_Wunchee_.--The Inside of a Husky Hut.--"Eigh, Eigh!"--An
Esquimau Ball.--A Funeral.--Wutchee and Wunchee's
Cookery.--The Esquimau Whip.

"Raed, will you act as leader, or captain?" Kit asked.

"I decline," was the reply. "It is hardly fair to ask me, I think.
That honor--if you look upon it as such--is clearly yours."

"Very well, then. All hands launch the boat!"

It was done.

"Load in the walrus-hides."

They were rolled up and thrown in.

"Ship the _spider_ too."

I carried it aboard.

"Now each man spend fifteen minutes attending to his musket! Get off
all rust! See that the locks move easily! Load them, and fix the
bayonets!"

This done, we called Guard, and embarked; not forgetting to take our
dipper of salt, the walrus-tusks, and Wade's broken bayonet.

"Give 'way!" was the order.

Weymouth and Donovan dipped the oars; and we darted out from the
little cove beneath the ledges where for seven days we had kept our
camp-fire blazing. Kit took up a paddle, and from the stern directed
our course toward the larger island.

"I can't see what better we are than any gang of desperadoes or
filibusters," Raed remarked.

"Circumstances alter cases, Raed," replied Kit.

"Now, for God's sake, don't shed the blood of any of the poor
wretches!" Raed said.

"Never fear: we will manage it without killing any of them, I guess."

On coming up within a quarter of a mile of the shore, we surveyed it
carefully. There were none of the Esquimaux in sight, however, to
oppose our landing; and the boat was rowed along to within four or
five hundred yards of the place where the _oomiak_ and _kayaks_ had
been drawn up on the shore. Landing, we drew up our boat between two
large rocks, and went along to where the _oomiak_ lay.

"What a great scow of a craft it is!" exclaimed Weymouth.

"Not less than thirty-five or forty feet long," Raed remarked.

"Seven feet wide, certain," said Wade.

"That's walrus-hide that it is covered with, I think," said Kit; "four
or five hides sewed together. We might have our two sewed together for
a tent."

"We'll have them do it for us after we've got our _dynasty_
established," said Wade.

"Forward, now!" cried Kit.

We followed their trail up from their canoes; and, after crossing
several ledgy ridges, at length espied their encampment, distant about
half a mile from the water. It was in a hollow, surrounded by crags
and rocks. The place had probably been chosen on account of its
sheltered situation. It was doubtless an old haunt of theirs.

"Now form in line, boys," Kit requested, "and move on steadily!"

We did so, Guard walking soberly behind us. There were five tents of
seal-skin clustered together near what we discovered to be a spring,
or run, of water. Half a dozen Huskies were in sight, moving about the
camp; and, the moment our approach was discovered, they came pouring
out to the number of thirty or forty. As we came up, a few scattered,
and ran off among the crags; but the greater part stood huddled
together.

"Now keep cool, boys!" Kit advised. "Don't fire in any case, unless I
give the word,--except Wade. He may fire his musket in the air when we
come close to them, by way of giving them a foretaste of what we can
do."

When we had come up facing them to within three or four yards, Kit
gave the order to halt. Wade fired his musket. The swarthy,
long-haired crowd stared hard at us in perfect silence. Kit then
advanced a little, and pointing to us, and then to himself, exclaimed
in a loud voice,--

"_Cob-loo-nak!_" ("Englishmen!")

And, by way of giving emphasis to the announcement, he repeated it
several times. Then, pointing off to the east and north, he said,--

"_Oomiak-sook!_" ("Big ship!")

And, when this had been duly repeated, he cried out,--

"_Chymo--aunay!_" ("The trade is far off!")

"Now the next thing is to seize the _oomiak_," said he.

"We will make them help as bring it up here. I'll detail a party for
that purpose."

He now pointed off to the shore with the word _oomiak_, and, stepping
up to one of the men, laid his hand on his shoulder, and made signs
for him to go with us. The man, a stout, short fellow, seemed partly
to comprehend his meaning, and rather reluctantly moved out from his
fellows.

"We shall want as many as seven or eight of them," remarked Wade.

"Form a ring around this one, then, while I get out another," said
Kit.

But the second one backed off as Kit approached him, gesticulating,
and shouting, "_Na-mick, na-mick!_" and, on Kit's laying his hand on
his shoulder, he let out a "straight left" with considerable _vim_.

"Donovan," said Kit, "take hold of him!"

Don made a rush, and, clutching one hand into his hair, shook him
about, tripped him up, and held the point of the butcher-knife at his
throat. The savage howled and begged. With a single effort Donovan set
him on his feet, and thrust him into the ring. The third, fourth, and
fifth man came out at a mere tap on the shoulder. But the sixth--a
little dark fellow--jumped back when Kit stepped up to him, and struck
with a rough dagger-shaped weapon made of a walrus-tusk. Indeed, it
was a wonder he had not stabbed him; for the movement was remarkably
quick and cat-like. Donovan sprang forward; but Kit caught his arm,
and dealt him a blow with his fist that sent him reeling to the
ground. Don seized him by the collar of his bear-skin smock, and,
with a twitch and a kick, sent him spinning into the ring. Several of
the remaining men had run to their tents, and now re-appeared with
harpoons in their hands. Kit took his musket, and, walking up to one
of them, struck the dart out of his hand with a tweak of the bayonet,
and then walked him along to the ring.

"I guess seven will be enough," said Wade.

"Well, keep round them," replied Kit. "Don't let 'em get away from us.
Ready! Forward, march!"

We turned to go down to the _oomiak_, and had proceeded a few steps,
when some of the savages about the huts suddenly shouted "_Ka-ka,
ka-ka!_" In an instant their dogs, which had been growling and
prowling about all the time, rushed after us, barking madly. Guard was
a little behind us. They set upon him like hungry wolves. Such a
barking and snarling! Kit and Wade, who formed the rear-guard, ran to
the rescue. Wade laid on them with the butt of his musket; while Kit,
with his bayonet, gave several of the gaunt, wolfish curs thrusts
which speedily changed their growls to yelps of agony. The savages
cried out dismally. Exclamations of "_Mickee!_" "_Arkut mickee!_"
"_Parut mickee!_" besought us not to kill them. They had set them on
to us, nevertheless. The dog riot suppressed, we moved on down to the
shore. The _oomiak_ was then turned bottom up, and the mast which had
supported their sails thrust under it transversely about ten feet back
of the bows. This mast was a stick of yellow pine, from Labrador
probably, about fifteen feet long. It projected four or five feet on
each side,--far enough for them to take hold to carry the _oomiak_ on
it. Wade ran out to our boat and brought one of the oars, which was
thrust under, near the stern, in the same way. Kit then stationed six
of the Huskies at the mast-pole forward, three on each side: the other
he placed at the stern end of the scow. Weymouth took hold of one end
of the paddle, and Donovan the other. Kit then made signs to the
Huskies to lift at their pole. They raised it; and the sailors lifting
the stern at the same time, and walking on, we had it fairly started.
It was pretty heavy, however. The Esquimaux soon began to pant; seeing
which, we had them set it down and rest every thirty or forty rods.

We were near an hour getting back to their huts. They had worked well.
Their part of the load must have been somewhat over a hundred pounds
per man, we thought.

"Better than niggers; a great deal better," Wade pronounced them. "I'm
not sure that it wouldn't be a good plan to import them into the
United States to work on our railroads."

"For slaves, I suppose," said Raed.

"No; not for slaves. Now that slavery is fairly abolished, I am not
much in favor of its re-establishment. Take them down to work for fair
wages. Should as lief have them as to have the Chinese, and risk it."

"That makes me think," Kit remarked, "that I have read that some
ethnologists think the Esquimaux are a branch of the Chinese nation."

"You would send vessels like the cooly ships up here to kidnap them, I
suppose," Raed observed. "You could only carry them away by main
force. They are too much attached to their bleak home to leave it
voluntarily."

"Well, what of that," said Wade. "Don't be so dreadfully afraid to
have a little force used! If it would permanently better their
condition, why not bring the whole nation of them farther south by
force. A horde of ignorant savages like these don't always know what's
best for them, by a long sight. If all these polar tribes could be
brought down into a milder climate, it would be vastly better for
them. So of the ignorant, brutish negroes of Africa: if they could be
got out of their barbarous haunts, and brought up into the latitude of
New York and Paris, it would be vastly better for them; and they might
be made to do something useful in the world. Millions of hands are
lying idle in Africa, which, under proper direction, might be turned
to some account, and made to contribute both to the world's progress
and their own happiness. But, of course, such savage tribes will never
move of their own accord: it remains for more enlightened nations to
move them."

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