Left on Labrador

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"That's an argument for the re-opening of the slave-trade, I presume,"
Raed remarked.

"Oh, no! You judge me too severely. I meant just what I said; nothing
more."

"If what Wade proposes could be done without violent usage, suffering,
and injustice, I think it would be a great and good work," said Kit.

"Well, in that I agree with you fully," replied Raed; "but the trouble
would be to find a nation or a company that would deal justly and
humanely with such savages."

We let them rest an hour after bringing up the _oomiak_; then started
them back to bring up our own boat, with our _spider_ and
walrus-skins. This took till nearly six o'clock, evening. The
walrus-skins were then unrolled, and spread out on the ground.

"Now we want these sewed together," said Kit: "then we can pitch them
on their _oomiak_-mast for a tent-pole."

Wade spread out the two skins so that the edges touched each other:
then, beckoning to one of the men, he pointed first to the edges,
next to the seams where the hide had been sewed on the _oomiak_, then
off to the huts, pronouncing the word "_hennelay_" ("woman"). The
savage understood him in a moment, and went off into the hut.
Presently two chubby faces appeared at the doorway, but shrank back
the moment we espied them. We could hear a great talking and urging
going on inside. After a while, when we had gone to move the _oomiak_
round so as to form one side of a sort of fort, they stole out, and
came reluctantly along, the man following them, apparently to keep
them from escaping. Seeing them approaching, Kit and Wade went to meet
them, smiling and bowing, and pointing to the walrus-skins. They knew
what was wanted, and fell to work to sew the two hides together,
occasionally casting shy eyes toward us. What amused us was, that each
was the exact counterpart of the other. They were just of a size, and
of the same height. Face, features, and expression were identical. The
man, who might possibly have been their father, but more probably
their elder brother, saw our amazed looks, and said "_Bi-coit-suk_:"
at least, it sounded like that. The meaning of the word we could only
guess at. But, if _bi-coit-suk_ does not mean twins, I am greatly
mistaken. On questioning the man, using the word _kina_, and pointing
to each, we learned, after he understood us, that one was named
_Wutchee_, and the other _Wunchee_. The meanings of these words I have
no need to translate: they were decidedly significant, and amused us a
good deal. For sewing the hides together they used an awl of bone. The
thread, which was of the sinew of some animal, was thrust through the
awl-holes like a shoemaker's waxed-end, and drawn tight. When they had
finished, Kit gave _Wutchee_ (or _Wunchee_, for the life of me I
couldn't tell which) a half-dozen pins from a round pin-ball he
cherished, and three or four bright nickel five-cent bits. Wade then
gave _Wunchee_ (?) his pen-knife, and an old cuff-button he happened
to have in his pocket. They accepted these presents as modest as you
please; but it did seem a little droll to see them immediately fall to
licking them all over with their tongues. They did not seem to act as
if they considered the gifts fairly their own till they had _licked_
them. We had not observed this practice among those who boarded us at
the Middle Savage Isles; but with these the custom seemed a universal
one among the women. Even if the gift were a rusty nail, they would
lick it all the same. It is said that the mothers lick their young
children over like she-bears. Wade also gave the man who had
accompanied them the point of his broken bayonet. The fellow looked
it over, and then, getting his harpoon, unlashed the bone blade, and
substituted the bayonet-point in its place.

"He seems to understand its use," Kit remarked. "Hope he won't
experiment with it on us unawares."

The walrus-skins were then raised on the _oomiak_ mast, the edges
resting on the bottoms of our boat and the _oomiak_, placed on both
sides. Stones laid along the edges held them in place. Not to be too
near our _subjects_ (for they were rather noisy, and smelled pretty
strong of rancid fat), we had placed our tent about two hundred feet
away from their huts. While the rest had been pitching the tent, Wade
and Weymouth had constructed a rough arch of stones, and set our
spider in the top of it as we had previously arranged it.

"Ready for the seal!" said Wade.

"They've got seal-blubber about their huts; I saw some of the young
ones eating chunks of it," Donovan remarked.

Several of the men had come round where we were at work, and among
them the little dark chap who had tried to stab Kit. Wade went along
to him, and pointing to his own mouth, and then toward the mouths of
the rest of us, said, "_Pussay_" ("Seal"). But the fellow was still
sullen, and stared defiantly.

"Have to discipline him a little, I reckon," Kit muttered.

Again Wade pronounced the word _pussay_, pointing off toward their
huts.

"_Na-mick!_" exclaimed the Esquimau fractiously. "_Na-mick! Ik pee-o
nar-kut bok!_" swinging his arms. "_Ik pee-o askut ammee pussay!_"

"Any idea what he said?" Wade asked, turning to Kit.

"No: but it was a refusal; I know by his actions.--Donovan, there's
another job for you!"

Don went off a little to one side, and, working up toward him, made a
sudden lunge, and had him by the hair in a twinkling. Such a shaking
as the poor wretch got! Then, with a quick trip, Donovan laid him flat
on his back, and, jerking out his big knife, began strapping it
ominously on his boot-leg. Oh, how the terrified savage howled! Raed
turned away in disgust. After frightening him nearly into fits with
the knife, the stalwart sailor with a twitch threw him across his
knee, and applied the flat of the butcher-knife to the seat of his
seal-skin trousers with _reports_ that must have been distinctly
audible for a quarter of a mile. All the Huskies came rushing up,
screaming and gesticulating. The dogs barked. There was a general
uproar. After three or four dozen of these emphatic reminders of
arbitrary power, Donovan set the shrieking wretch on his feet, and,
still holding on to his hair, shouted in his face the word _pussay_ a
dozen times in a tone that might have been heard on the neighboring
islands. Kit and Wade and Weymouth all fell to shouting the same word;
catching the meaning of which, more than a dozen of the Huskies, men
and women, ran to their huts, and brought pieces of seal-blubber to
the amount of several hundred-weight. The little dark chap
disappeared, and we saw no more of him for two days.

"Now we want some eggs," said Kit. "What's the word for egg?"

"_Wau-ve_," Raed replied.

Wade then called _wau-ve_ several times to the crowd. They ran off
again, and in a few minutes returned with fifteen or twenty of the
razor-bill's eggs; and a party immediately set off toward the cliffs
for more.

"I admire their promptness," Kit observed, laughing.

"They are beginning to respect us," said Wade.

"But would it not have been far better to have come over here and
asked them kindly for what we wanted?" Raed demanded.

"No," said Kit; "for we should not have got it."

"I don't know about that," replied Raed.

"I know we shouldn't," said Wade. "We should have got a square
_na-mick_ to start with; and I am inclined to believe they would have
attacked us with their daggers and harpoons. Then we should have been
obliged to kill a lot of them in self-defence. As it is, we haven't
hurt anybody yet. A dose of spanks won't injure any of them, I'll
warrant."

"But this whole business is revolting,--to me, at least," Raed
continued.

"Oh, I guess you will stand it!" laughed Kit. "But, Raed, if I were
you, I wouldn't show quite so much of my righteous indignation. You
want your supper as well as the rest of us."

"No doubt."

"Well, honestly, old fellow, I could not see any better way to get it
for you."

"Well, I hoped never to eat a supper procured by slave-labor."

"You won't notice any great difference in the taste, I dare say,"
replied Wade.

Donovan was preparing splints from the old thwart, and covering them
with the blubber in the arch. Ten or a dozen of the Esquimaux were
looking on. When he struck a match on his sleeve, exclamations of
wonder broke out. Matches were a novelty with them. From their strange
looks, and glances toward each other, we concluded that they took us
to be either great saints, or devils; most likely the latter, from
the way we had previously deported ourselves. The eggs were fried, and
eaten with a sprinkling of salt. A fire of seal-blubber was probably a
very extravagant luxury in the eyes of our Husky subjects. They had no
fire while we were with them, save their flickering stone lamps. Yet
the use of cooked food seemed not to be wholly unknown among them. On
several occasions we saw them boiling, or at least parboiling, a duck
in a stone kettle over five or six of their lamps set together. They
often gave food cooked in this way to their young children, and in
cases where any of their number are sick. If wood were plenty, they
would doubtless soon come to relish it best; since it is undoubtedly
the scarcity of wood which has driven them to raw food.

Whatever we did,--in our cooking, eating, and in all our
movements,--we were sure of a curious and admiring crowd. There were,
in all, thirty-seven of the Esquimaux on the island,--nine men and
eleven women, adults: the remaining seventeen ranged from one to
eighteen years apparently. So far as we could learn, they kept little
or no record of their ages. One man, whom they called _Shug-la-wina_,
seemed to exercise a sort of authority over the rest; but whether it
was from any hereditary claim to power, or simply from the fact that
he was rather larger in stature than the others, was not very clear.
Another, the little dark chap whom Donovan had punished for his
snappishness, was almost continually slapping and cuffing the rest
about. His name was _Twee-gock_. Besides _Wutchee_ and _Wunchee_,
there were, of the girls, one named _Coonee_,--a very laughing little
creature,--and another called _Iglooee_ ("hut-keeper" or
"house-keeper"). Neither of these was so large nor so handsome as
_Wutchee_ or _Wunchee_. The last two were Kit and Wade's favorites.

They were quaint little creatures, just about four feet and a half in
height; chubby, and rather fleshy; and would have weighed rising a
hundred pounds, probably. Their faces were rather larger in proportion
than our American girls, rounder and flatter; noses inclined to the
pug order; eyes black, and pretty well drawn up at the inner corners;
cheek-bones rather high, though their flesh prevented them from
appearing disagreeably prominent; mouths large, showing large white
teeth; ears big enough to hear well; hair black, straight, and
occasionally pugged up behind; complexion swarthy, though, in their
case, tolerably clear; feet very small; and hands sizable. Add to this
description an ever-genial, pleased expression of countenance, with
considerable sprightliness of manner dashed with something like
_naivete_; then picture them in trousers and jackets, with their
hoods, and those irresistibly comical "tails,"--and you have _Wutchee_
and _Wunchee_, the belles of our island kingdom.

After our supper of eggs, of which they soon brought as many as seven
or eight dozen, Raed proposed that we should take a look at the
interior of some of their huts. So, leaving the two sailors with Guard
on sentinel duty, we went along to the hut belonging to
_Shug-la-wina_, and by signs expressed our desire to go in. He pulled
aside the flap in front, and we stepped under. The tent-frame was of
small sticks of the yellow pine, with a straight ridge-pole. Over the
frame was thrown a covering of cured seal-skin or walrus-skin. A stone
lamp, suspended by seal-skin thongs, hung at the farther end. It was
burning feebly. The wick seemed to be of long fibers of moss. The lamp
itself was simply an open bowl hollowed out of a stone, about the size
of a two-quart measure. The oil was the fat of seals or walruses. On
one side there was a quantity of fox-skins and bear-skins thrown down
promiscuously. Upon these reclined _Shug-la-wina's_ wife _Took-la-pok_
and his daughter _Iglooee_. Kit made them a present of three pins
each. On the other side of the hut there was stowed a sledge, with
runners of bone firmly lashed together with thongs. On it was a stone
pot, hollowed, like the lamp, out of a large stone. Several harpoons
stood in the farther corner. A coil of thong lay on the sledge; also
two whips with short handles of bone, but exceedingly long
lashes,--not less than fifteen or twenty feet in length. There were
lying about half a dozen tusks of the walrus, and, on a low stone
shelf, a hundred-weight or more of seal-pork. We were turning to go
out, when Wade pointed to the end of a bow and the heads of two arrows
protruding from under the furs. Kit took them up; but _Shug-la-wina_
very gravely took them from his hands, and returned them to their
hiding-place. The bow was of some dark bone, I thought,--possibly
whalebone; the bow-string of sinew; and the arrows of wood, but
provided with rough iron heads. The sight of these iron heads
surprised us a little, as well as the discovery in another hut of an
English case-knife. That knife, doubtless, had a history. On going
out, Wade took up one of the bear-skins, and pointed off to our tent.

"_Abb_," replied the Esquimau, nodding.

We took it along with us. The other huts were much the same as
_Shug-la-wina's_. We got a bear-skin from each. Wutchee and Wunchee
gave us two. These skins, spread over a "shake-down" of moss, made us
a very comfortable bed.

By this time it was past ten o'clock; and, after arranging for regular
sentinel duty,--two hours in each watch,--we turned in on our
bear-skins, save Weymouth, who had the first watch. But we were
horribly disturbed by the incessant barking, growling, and fighting of
their dogs. Such a set of vicious, snarling curs do not exist in any
other quarter of the world, I hope. They were decidedly the most
troublesome of our new subjects. Guard could not stir out away from us
without being assaulted tooth and nail. Fights of from two to half a
dozen combatants were in progress all night; and not only that night,
but each succeeding night. Several times some one or other of the
Huskies would rush out from their huts, and lay about them with their
long whips, shouting "_Eigh, eigh, eigh!_" We could hear the whips
snap, followed by piteous yelps and long-drawn howls. Then there would
be silence for perhaps ten minutes: by that time another fight would
be in full blast.

"What, for thunder sake, do they keep so many dogs for?" growled
Donovan.

"To draw their sledges in winter," I heard Raed explaining to him....

[Seventeen pages, containing, as appears from the
chapter-head, an account of an Esquimau ball, a funeral, also
of _Wutchee's_ and _Wunchee's_ cookery, are here missing from
the manuscript. The young author is now absent with the party
in Brazil.--ED.]

Strange how these people can live without salt! They make no use of it
with their food; eat fresh seal-blubber, mainly, all their lives. No
wonder they look flabby! And yet they are a happy set; always
laughing, joking, and badgering each other. Very likely their joys are
not of a very high order: but I doubt whether civilization would make
them much happier; though, according to the theory of us civilized
folks, it ought to. They lead an easy life,--easy, in a savage way;
though breaking up dog-fights does keep them pretty tolerably busy.
To-day (Aug. 7) we had a perfect dog-war. Three or four of the
ravening, howling curs assaulted Guard under the very flap of our
tent. Donovan caught up a musket, and, running out, pinned one of them
down with the bayonet, and held him for some seconds. On letting him
up, the dog ran off howling, with the blood streaming out of him.
Instantly all the rest set after him, barking like furies. Round and
round the huts they went, all snarling and snapping at the wounded
one. Presently out rushed old _Shug-la-wina_ and _Twee-gock_ with
their whips, shouting "_Eigh, eigh!_" and laying about them. The ends
of the thongs cracked like pistol-shots. The hair and hide flew up
from the dogs' backs. As fast as one got a _crack_, he would leap up
and run off, licking at the spot. How the boys laughed!

"That's a savage weapon!" exclaimed Wade. "I should about as lief take
a shot from a revolver as one of those 'cracks' on my bare skin.
Moses, how it would sting!"

"I don't believe it would hurt through anybody's thick coat," Donovan
remarked.

"Humph! it would cut right through to a fellow's hide!" exclaimed Kit.

"Nonsense!"

"Bet you don't dare to let one of them crack at you!"

"I wouldn't let one of them snap at my back, for fear he would hit my
ears or hands instead; but I had just as lief let him crack at my leg
below my knee, under my boot-leg, as not."

"Agreed!"

Kit ran to get old _Shug-la-wina_ with his whip.

"Bet my musket against yours that you can't stand three cracks on your
boot-leg!" laughed Wade.

"I take it!" cried Donovan.

In a few minutes Kit came back with the old Esquimau and his whip.
Signs were made; and Donovan raised his foot on a rock, exposing his
boot-leg. The veteran Husky began to _yeh-yeh!_ He understood.
Standing off about twenty-five feet, he gathered the lash up; then,
swinging the handle around his head, let the long thong go circling
around him like a black snake. Faster and faster revolved the black
gyres,--twenty times, I have no doubt. Presently he fetched a snap.
The black thong shot out like lightning. _Thut!_ A bit of the leather
flew up, spinning in the air. Donovan caught away his leg with a
profane exclamation. We crowded round. There was a hole in the
boot-leg!

"Gracious!" exclaimed Weymouth.

Don jerked off his boot. On the calf of his leg there was a mark about
half an inch wide, and an inch or more in length, red as blood, and
rapidly puffing up.

"Have another?" demanded Wade.

"Not much! One will do for me!"

We naturally picked up a good many words of their language; though of
its structure--if it have any--we learned little. Other anxieties
occupied our minds so fully, that we were not very attentive scholars.
Like the Indians of our Territories, the Esquimaux seemed much
addicted to running a whole sentence into a single word, or what
sounded like it, of immense length. These sentence-words we could make
very little of. But of their detached words, standing for familiar
things, I add a vocabulary from such as I can now call to mind:--

Pillitay, Give. Give me something.
Igloo, A hut.
Igloo-ee, A hut-keeper.
Wau-ve, An egg.
Mickee, A dog.
Tuk-tuk, A reindeer.
Muck-tu, A caribou.
Tuck-tu, Seal-blubber.
Nenook, A bear.
Chymo, Trade; barter.
Eigh! Stop! Hold up! Get out!
Karrack, Wood.
Tyma, Good.
Mai, Good.
Negga-mai, Not good.
Na-mick, No.
Abb, Yes.
Singipok, Sleep.
Kayak, A canoe.
Coonee, A kiss.
Cobloo-nak, An Englishman.
Pee-o mee-wanga, I want.
Aunay, Far off.
Ye-meck, Water.
Hennelay, A woman.
We-we, A white goose.
Muck-mhameek, A knife.
Kolipsut, A lamp.
Pussay, A seal.
Awak, A walrus.
Ka-ka! Go 'long! St-'boy!
Oomiak, A large boat.
Oomiak-sook, A ship.
Kannau-weet-ameg, A dart.
Kina? What is it? What's that?
Twau-ve! Begone! Leave!

CHAPTER XV.

Winter at Hand.--We hold a Serious Council.--"Cold! oh, how
Cold!"--A Midnight Gun.--The Return of "The Curlew."--"A
J'yful 'Casion."--A Grand Distribution of Presents.--Good-by
to the Husky Girls.--A Singular Savage Song.--We All get
Sentimental.--Adieu to "Isle Aktok."--Homeward Bound.--We
engage "The Curlew" and her Captain for Another Year.

Aug. 11.--Water froze last night nearly half an inch of ice. It seemed
like December in our home latitude. All day the sky was hazy and cold,
with driving mists. The wind blew from the north and north-west almost
continually. A fortnight had made a great change in the weather.
Summer seemed to be fast merging into winter. During the afternoon and
evening we held a serious "council of war;" for all hope of the return
of "The Curlew" was now well-nigh abandoned. After some discussion, it
was voted to stay here on the island during the winter, rather than
attempt either to get out of the straits in our boat, or reach Nain
overland. During the morning _Shug-la-wina_ had come to our tent, and
pointed to the _oomiak_ then off to the southward. We knew that it was
to urge us to allow them to depart southward into Labrador. The
question now arose with us, Should we allow them to go according to
their habit? Raed thought we ought to let them go, and not subject
them to the peril of a winter passed here on the island; but Kit and
Wade opposed this proposition _in toto_.

"Once on the mainland," said Kit, "and our control over them will
cease. They would either desert us, or else be joined by numbers whom
we should find it impossible to govern. Not an inch shall they budge
from here while I stay."

And in this view he was supported by Wade and the sailors. Indeed, I
voted to keep them with us myself. To let them go seemed suicidal.

"But they may all starve here before spring," Raed urged. "That would
be terrible!"

"Well, we must take measures to see that they don't starve," replied
Kit. "Now's our chance to show them the advantages of our
administration. To-morrow we must begin a regular autumnal hunt. Every
seal and every bear, and such of the sea-fowl as have not already
flown, we must capture for winter-store. We must keep them at it
sharp. There's no need of starving, if we manage rightly. To-morrow we
will begin a regular hunt,--send out hunting-parties every day.
Whatever is brought in we will take charge of, and deal out as they
need."

"In case they were like to starve, a lot of these worthless dogs could
be killed for them to eat," said Donovan. "It wouldn't hurt my
feelings to slaughter the whole pack of them."

"It no need to come to that, if we manage rightly," replied Kit.

Thus it was left. The only cause for immediate alarm was the ghastly
fact, that we had only eleven cartridges remaining.

Toward evening it came on to snow. A dreary night settled down upon
the island. But we lighted our Husky lamp [it would appear that they
had procured a stone lamp from the Esquimaux], and made things as
cheery as we could. For the past week we had given up sentinel-duty,
save what Guard could do. There seemed no call for it. About ten we
all lay down on our bear-skins, and, covering them over us, were soon
comfortable. But, somehow, that night my head was full of dreams. I
dreamed everything a fellow could well imagine, and a good many things
no one ever could imagine awake. I went all over the stern experiences
of the past two months. Again we were hunting bears in "Mazard's Bay."
Again we were tossing amid the ice. At that stage of my fancies, the
dogs probably got to fighting; for suddenly I was back on our desolate
isle. It was mid-winter; cold! oh, how cold! The island was a mass of
ice. _Wutchee_ and _Wunchee_ had frozen: we were all freezing.
Suddenly one of the Company's ships hove in sight, sailing over the
ice-fields, and began a bombardment of our island. They had found us
at last, and now were about to shell us out, together with our
miserable subjects. How their heavy guns roared! Their shells came
dropping down with ruinous explosions. Then one came roaring into our
tent. There was a moment of horrible suspense. The fuse tizzed.
_Bang!_ We were blown to atoms!

I started. It had waked me,--something had. The lamp gave a sickly
light. Kit was getting up too; so was Wade. I was already on my feet,
near where we had stacked our guns.

"Did you fire a musket?" Kit demanded.

"What did you fire at?" exclaimed Wade.

Raed was rousing up; so were the sailors. I hastily disavowed any
shooting on my part.

"Well, what was _that_, then?"

"Certainly heard something," said Wade.

"I thought some of you fired," Raed observed.

They were all a little suspicious of me.

"He fired one of those muskets in his sleep!" I heard Wade whisper to
Kit as we pulled aside the flap of the tent to look out.

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