Eskimo Life

ine weather at sea; and then he is too good-natured and easy-going to show any courage. It may be, too, they have not taken the trouble to pla

the Eskimos do not possess any great share. They are too peaceable and good-natured, for example, to strike back when attacked; and therefore Europeans, ever since the time of Egede and the first missionaries, have been able to strike them with impunity and to call them cowardly. But this sort of courage

is that the Eskimo is a

another light; for, if we understand by courage that faculty which, in moments of danger, lays its plans with calmness and executes them with ready presence of mind, or w

ing has ma

t his daily work, in storm no less than in calm. If the weather is too terrible, he may be chary of putting to sea; experience has taught

waves, which, like rolling mountains, sweep on in their wake. The paddles whirl through air and water, the body is bent a little forwards, the head often turned half backwards to watch the seas; all is life and spirit-while the sea around reeks like a seething cauldron. And then it may happen that when the game is at its wildest a seal pops its head up

, in these surroundings we

the Eskimo on

HALF BACKWARDS

lowly down to his house and gets out his kaiak-jacket. His breakfast in the good old days consisted of a drink of water; now that European effeminacy has reached him too, it is generally one or two cups

fast his jacket over the ring, and puts out to sea. From other houses in the village his neighbours are also putting forth at the

ddles swing in an even rhythm, while the men keep up an unbroken stream of conversation, and now and then burst out into merry laughter. Bird-darts are thrown in sport, now by one, now by another, in order to keep eye and hand in practice. Presently an auk comes within range of one of them; the dart speeds th

d islets behind them and put

ng-ground. Great seal-heads are seen peering over the water in

IN SEARC

it catches sight of him again, looks at him sharply for a moment, and dives. He knows its habits, however, and at full speed he dashes towards the spot where it disappeared. Before many moments have passed it pops up its head again to look around. Now he is within range: the harpoon is seized and carried back over his shoulder, then with a strong movement, as if hurled from a steel spring, it rushes whistling from the throwing-stick, whirling the line behind it. The seal gives a violent plunge, but at the moment it arches its back to dive, the harpoon sinks into its side, and buries itself up to the shaft. A few convulsive strokes of its tail churn the water into foam, and away it goes, dragging the harpoon-line behind it towards the depths. In the meantime Boas has seized the throwing-stick between his teeth, and, quicker than thought, has thrown the bladder out of the kaiak behind him. It dances away over the surface of the sea, now and then seeming on the point of disappearing, as indeed it finally does. Before long, however, it again comes in sight, and he chases after it as quickly as his paddle can take him, snapping up on the way his harpoon-shaft which has floated to the surface. The lance is laid ready for use. Next moment the seal comes up; infuriated at its inability to escape, it turns upon its pursuer, attacks first the bladder, which it tears to pieces, and then goes straight for the kaiak. Again Boas is within range; the animal arches its back and hurls itself forward with gaping maw, so that the water foams around it. A miss may now cost him his life; but he calmly raises his lance and sends it speeding with terrible force through the seal's mouth and out at the back of its neck. A shudder runs through it, and its head sinks; but the next moment it raises itself perpendicularly in the water, the blood pours frothing from its mouth, it gapes wildly and utters a smothered

-HUN

d and shoulders and the stern of the kaiak, which sticks right up into the air. It looks as if it were all over with him; those who are near him paddle with all their might to his assistance, but with scant hope of arriving in time to save him. Tobias, however, is a first-rate kaiak-man. In spite of his difficult position, he keeps upon even keel while he is dragged through the water by the seal, which does all it can to get him entirely under. At last it comes up again, and in a moment he has seized his lance and, with a deadly aim, has pierced it right through the head. A feeble movement, and it is dead. The others come up in time to find Tobias busy making his booty fast an

have begun to draw up over the southern horizon. Just as Tobias has made fast his seal, a distant roar is heard and a sort of steam can be seen rising over the sea to the southward. It is a s

E THE

hrashes the water to foam as it approaches, and the kaiak-men feel it on their backs, like a giant lifting and hurling them forward. The sport has now turned to earnest; the seas soon tower into mountains of water and break and welter down upon them. Th

to windward, bend their bodies forward, and at the moment when the white cataract thunders down upon them they hurl themselves into its very jaws, thus somewhat breaking its force. For a moment they have again disappeared-then one kaiak comes up on even keel, and presently another appears bottom upwards. It is Pedersuak (i.e. the big Peter) who has capsized. His comrade speeds to his side, but at the same moment the third wave breaks over them and he must look out for himself. It is too late-the two kaiaks lie heaving bottom upwards. The second manages to right himself, and his first thought

N RESCUING

ea passes after another, and they will still try to hang on for a while. The proudest moments in a hunter's life are those in which he comes home towing his prey, and sees his wife's, his daughter's, and his handma

ewhat protected by a group of islands lying far to the southward. The seas become less violent,

or their sons, husbands, fathers, and brothers. So they stand watching and shivering, until, with eyes rendered keener by anxiety, they at last discern what seem like black specks approaching from the horizon,

nce passes from house to house, the children rush around and shout it in through the windows, and the groups upon the rocks dance for joy. Then comes a new shout: 'Ama Tobiase kaligpok!' ('Tobias too is towing'); and this news likewise passes from house to house. Next is heard: 'Ama Simo kal

ave no seals. Lightly and with assured aim one after the other dashes up on the flat beach, carried

themselves make for the land. When once they have got out of the kaiak, they, like the first comers, pay no heed to anything but themselves and their weapons, which they carry to their

on their indoor dress, which, as we have seen, was in the he

ll the day's 'take' is boiled and served up in a huge dish placed in the middle o

sewing or the like, whilst the men give themselves up to well-earned laziness, or

The narrative is sober, with none of that boasting or striving to impress the hearers with an exaggerated

, they swing the right arm in the air while the left is held straight out to represent the animal. Then the demonstration goes on as follows: 'When the time came for using the harpoon, I looked to it, I took it, I seized it, I gripped it,

ty presents itself, a broad humour enters into the narration, and is unfailingly rewarded by shrieks

There is always a melancholy in old age, and nowhere more than here. These kindly old men have also in their day known strength and youth-times when they were the pillars of their little society. Now they have only the memories of that life left to them, and they must let themselves be fed by others. But when the young people come home from sea

ckly as to aim a fatal throw at it before it has time to do him damage. It is just as bad when he is attacked from below, or when the animal suddenly shoots up close at his side, for it is lightning-like in its movements and lacks neither courage nor strength. If it once gets up on the kaiak and capsizes it, there is little hope of rescue. It will often attack the hunt

company when they go walrus-hunting, so that one can stand by another if anything shou

N ATTACKED

l, and a powerful body. There needs, then, a sure and strong arm to kill it. The walrus has the habit, as soon as it is attacked, of turning upon its assailant, and wil

arge, strong boats, each containing many men, armed with

or the Eskimo to attack it in his frail skin cano

ous adversary; calmly, with his lance ready poised for throwing, he awaits its attack, an

are. At Kangamiut, some years ago, a kaiak was attacked from below, and a long walrus-tusk was suddenly thrust through its bottom, through

y other-the grampus, or, as he calls it, ardluk. With its strength, its swiftness, and its horrible teeth, if it happens to take the offensive,

eatest finery as if for a marriage, for otherwise the whale will avoid them; he cannot endure uncleanliness.' The whale was harpooned, or rather pierced with a big lance, from the bow, and it sometimes happened that with a w

rs may happen. If one has not taken care to keep the line clear, and it gets fouled in one place or another, while the strong

UT-FI

ssion of the life of the Eskimo at sea, and of some of the dangers which are his daily lot-enough, perhaps, to have co

self to it with joy. If the history of the Eskimos had ever been written, it would have been one long series of feats of courage and fortitude; and how much moving self-sacrifice and devotion to others would