# Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter X

CHAPTER X.
Remarkable Echo—Visit of "Sampson"—Innuit mode of Washing the Face—"Bridge of Sighs"—Mothers nursing their Children—Serviceable Hoods—Tails of Innuit Dresses—Extraordinarily mild Weather—Kelp used for Food—Christmas and New Year's Day—Sick Nukertou—Cruel Abandonment—Innuit Superstitions—Author's lonely Watch—Kooperarchu's Death—Innuit Idea of a Future State.
The month of December came in, as I have previously said, with a great calm of four days, and though the ice was then much broken up, making a transit to the shore difficult, yet I contrived to frequently land for exercise, and to see more of Innuit life.
One day, while walking near a channel between two islands, I heard a very remarkable echo, of so striking a character that an Innuit boy and three dogs, near at hand, could hear my voice only through its reflected sound. The tide was out, leaving a rock bluff on the opposite side of the channel, whence the sound was reverberated. After giving utterance to my voice, in one second of time the echo came back to me, thus making, the distance across 550 feet, as sound travels 1100 feet per second.
On December 8th, at noon, the thermometer was at zero, and on the 9th, 15° below zero, or 47° degrees below the freezing point. Yet, strangely to me, the cold was not felt so much as I should have supposed. The ice was solid around us, and our good ship quite laid up in winter quarters. Now and then we could hear some heavy and startling cracks, as if disruption was about to take place; but nothing of any note occurred to disturb or to vary the usual monotonous life on board. Visits from the Esquimaux were made daily, and often we had several sleeping on the cabin floor and on sea-chests in impromptu beds made of sails, thick wearing apparel, &c. ​and a curious picture it was thus to see them. Frequently, accompanied by some of these visitors, I went to their village and to the islands around us, always being received by the natives in the most friendly manner.
Once we had a stranger arrive who had formerly lived near "King's Cape," at a place called by Esquimaux Se-ko-se-lar. This man's name was Koo-choo-ar-choo, but known by us as
THE "GEORGE HENRY" IN WINTER QUARTERS.
"Sampson," from his great size and strength. He was large and muscular, five feet six inches high, and weighing over 200 lbs. He was famous, too, as a great hunter, and had even captured whales by himself, with only the aid of a boy! When he visited us, his pretty little daughter Puk-e-ne-yer, of about ​ten years old, accompanied him, and I was much amused with the nimble way in which she undid and then rebraided her hair. The use of a comb she did not know until I gave her one and showed her. As for the father, I found him very intelligent, and, through Tookoolito, who acted as my interpreter, he gave me much geographical information.
Another of our visitors was Puto, the mother of a white child. This woman had once been considered handsome, and even now showed some signs of her former beauty. She was about 35 years old, and, though she had a hard time of it alone, supporting herself and child, yet she was generally cheerful, smart, kind, and industrious. On one of my visits to Tookoolito's igloo, Puto with her child was there, and I then witnessed the operation—very rarely performed—of washing a child's face. This was done by licking it all over, much as a dog would do the hand that had just contained a fresh beefsteak. She did this twice while in my presence, and the true colour of the child's face was then more clearly seen.
Owing to some cause or other which I could only surmise, Puto suffered more from various privations than the other women. She was often a week with hardly anything to eat, and, in consequence, her poor child was nearly starved. On the occasion I now refer to, after I had left the igloo and wandered about to other dwellings, I came across Charley and Ebierbing, just arrived with a sledge-load of frozen krang, whale-meat, for the dogs. Puto at the moment also came to the spot, and immediately asked for some. They gave her about twenty-five pounds of it; and this she slung on her back, along with a pack of equal weight already there, besides the child!
Ye mothers of America! what say you to taking an infant, besides an additional pack of fifty pounds on your back, and starting off on a tramp of several miles—such was the distance to Puto's home—with the thermometer 40° or 45° below the freezing point?
This, however, reminds me that at the same time I was ​obliged to be very careful, and especially of my nose. An instance had already occurred—a few days previous—of one of the ship's crew getting his nose frost-bitten, without discovering the serious fact until pointed out to him, and thus just saving it in time. Accordingly, I had to protect mine by as much covering as I could; but, as I then said, deliver me from any more of "Job's comforters"—boils—especially if there be any signs of them approaching that bridge below my eyes, which, from late experience, might indeed be termed "the bridge of sighs!"
On the visit just mentioned, I met a sister of Ebierbing, and also another woman, just taking up their quarters in the same place. In fact, it was a matter of mutual accommodation, for the purpose of creating more warmth within, and economizing light and fuel. They arrived, bringing their worldly goods, while I was talking to Tookoolito, and at once the new comers proceeded to place their lamp on the opposite side to that of the mistress of the igloo. They first filled it abundantly with seal-blubber, then putting in large wicks of moss, soon brought forth a long, even train of light and a glorious heat. The new-comers, it appeared, had managed to procure some of the precious seal-blubber so much needed.
At Ugarng's igloo, which I visited the same day, I there encountered several women and children congregated together. I was welcomed at once by Nikujar, "Polly," the first or family wife of Ugarng, and by Punnie, his third wife—No. 2 wife, Kunniu, being absent, though her lamp was bright and in full trim. Little Kookooyer (the child of Blind George) was also there, and, with her fat cheeks, laughing eyes, and pleasant voice, greeted me as I entered.
"Polly," in speaking to me, could only raise her voice to a whisper, for she was suffering from a pulmonic disease, and almost unable to utter a word without pain.
While waiting at this igloo, in came Puto and her child—Puto finding it necessary to re-arrange the pack at her back prior to a final start for the upper village. Her infant was given to little Kookooyer to hold; but, as it was rather noisy, I ​thought to pacify the babe by taking it in my own hands, and, in doing so, tried to show them how civilized mothers carry and nurse their children. This, however, only produced a hearty laugh; and I was made to understand that, in all the matters relating to the tending of infants—even in the very minutest, as there and then shown to me—the Innuit custom was the best.
I could here mention one or two facts, but it will be unnecessary more than to say that mothers here at home will comprehend all my meaning when I tell them that an Innuit infant is carried naked in the mother's hood, yet in close contact with the parent's skin. Thus every childish necessity is generally anticipated in good time by the ever-sensitive, watchful mother.
On the 18th December we heard of an arrival at the upper village from Annawa, the Esquimaux who, with his family, it may be remembered, went away on the 30th of the previous August. This Esquimaux was a brother of some of the most enterprising Innuits in the North. He lived almost the life of a hermit—that is, he resided with his small family in a distant part, away from other people, his abode being at an island called Oo-pung-ne-wing, in the Countess of Warwick's Sound, on the north side of Frobisher's Bay. It was his son who had now arrived, with a view of doing a little trade, if he could.
Many of the Esquimaux came to me, not only as ordinary visitors and to see what they could get in the way of presents, but also to do some trading. At the same time, several of the younger ones gladly received instruction from myself in the civilized tongue. As regards trading with them, it was generally done for articles of use, reindeer-skin dresses especially being necessary for me for winter, and no one could be more expert or more tasteful than the Innuit women in making them.
On one of my visits to the upper village, a daughter-in-law of Artarkparu was just finishing off her winter coat with a long tail, the universal fashion there among the ladies. It ​was prettily ornamented (?) with federal coin of the United States—old copper cents—eight in number, arranged in rows, and fixed as pendents to the tail.
On another occasion, when Kokerzhun came on board with her husband, she had on a beautiful tuktoo (reindeer) fur dress, having a skirt standing out hoop fashion! The variety of colours of the tuktoo was prettily arranged, and so well did she appear, that it was said by some of us that she would pass at home for a "Broadway belle."
So excellent were the dresses made for me by these Innuit women, that I did not hesitate paying tolerably "liberal" for them, particularly as they were rather scarce. I obtained a native jacket for a knife, two small skins for another knife and some powder, and a good deerskin for more powder, buck-shot, and caps. Many of the natives had guns, obtained from the whalers of Northumberland Inlet, either by barter or as returns for services rendered. I could not, at that time, get all I desired in the way of Innuit apparel, though it was useless to attempt travelling in any other costume, as nothing but that could withstand the cold; but from my first arrival I had been obtaining several articles, and thus I was now tolerably well supplied.
About this time, and toward the end of November, I was much astonished at the changes in the temperature. On the 19th the thermometer, on this glorious fair and calm morning, was — 20°, barometer 30.175. Cold indeed; by thermometer, 52° below the freezing point. Yet so calm was the weather, that to my person it seemed no colder than at the commencement of the season, when the thermometer indicated 32° above 0. But let a smart breeze spring up coming from the N.W. then how like hot iron it will burn! The weather was such that, unless we soon had snow, the ice would freeze thick and solid throughout the regions. Snow upon the ice serves to keep it warm, the same as snow on the ground in the Northern States of America.
In my journal at this date I find as follows: "I have just been out walking and running, exposing myself, my face and ​hands, to the cold air. A light breeze prevailing from N.W. I am confident there is something yet to be discovered relative to air and cold. The human system is not such a liar as three excellent thermometers I have would make it, if I gave full credence to their story this morning. My three thermometers say 20° below zero, and yet far greater exposure now than at other times with a higher register of temperature, leads to no unpleasant results. I am aware moisture in the air makes a great difference as affecting the human system; but a fact is a fact. The cold air from the same direction—equally charged with aqueous matter at different times—shows a difference of ten to twenty degrees in the thermometer; and yet the air at the lowest temperature affects the human system less than the highest.
"December 20th, 5.30 a.m.—Thermometer — 5°, barometer 30.200. Wind very light, N.W. Yet there must be a storm prevailing not far from us, as a tremendous roar of waters and cracking of ice comes from the direction of Davis's Straits. The ice around the shore of this harbour is constantly 'singing,' indicating that a heavy sea is now affecting us even here ... 7 a.m. the wind went round to the N.E. when it commenced snowing; thermometer 4°, barometer 30.100. At 10 p.m. we had the thermometer 14° above zero, barometer 30.050, wind N.E. blowing a gale, the ice breaking up in Field Bay, and also in our harbour.
"Friday, December 21st.—Thermometer 21° above zero, barometer 30.012. Wind light from east. The bay is nearly clear of ice. What little there is fastens up our harbour. The weather is too warm for the igloos; they have commenced dripping. If the like continues, down will come snow-houses.
Saturday, December 22d.—The thermometer is actually + 32½°; barometer 30.100. Wind N.E. During the night considerable rain fell. The natives are in sad plight. There has been not exactly a conflagration in the Esquimaux village, but disruption, and a melting down. Nearly every igloo is in ruins, owing to the unexpected storm of rain. Some have ​fallen, others about to. The men Innuits are busily engaged in erecting outer walls, filling in snow between the old and the new. I visited nearly every habitation, and found the natives exclaiming, 'pe-ong-e-too! pe-ong-e-too!'—bad! bad! 'Karg-toon'—very hungry.
"At Ebierbing and Tookoolito's there was great distress. Their igloo was nearly destroyed. In the night the whole of the dome had fallen in, covering their bed, furs, dresses, &c. in wet snow. Ebierbing was busy in making a canvas tent over the ruins, while Tookoolito cleared out the snow from beneath. He was wet through, and had not a dry skin upon his back, having been out all the morning trying to save his igloo from the almost universal ruins around him.
"Dec. 22d.—Raining hard throughout this day, with occasional sleet and snow. Tookoolito visited the ship, and upon her return I let her have an umbrella, which, though she well knew the use of it, was really a novelty to others of her people, who considered it a 'walking tent.'
"The extraordinary mildness of the season has caused a most sad state of things among the natives. They cannot obtain their accustomed food by sealing, as the ice and cold weather alone give them the opportunity. Hence in many of the igloos I have seen great distress, and in some I noticed kelp (sea-weed) used for food.
"Whenever I visited the natives, such small quantities of food as I could spare from my own slender but necessary stock were taken to them, and on one occasion I gave Tookoolito a handful of pressed 'cracklings' which I had brought with me from Cincinnati. They were given me by a friend there for dog-food, and I can now record the fact that Cincinnati pressed 'cracklings' made as rich a soup as ever I had eaten."
The preceding extracts from my diary about the weather, and its effects upon the condition of things around me, will show that almost the very existence of these children of the icy North depends upon the seasons being uniform with the time of year. The high temperature we had experienced, ​however, did not long continue. A few days afterward, on the 30th of December, the thermometer was down to zero; and on the 5th of January it was sixty degrees below freezing point! The bay and harbour had again been coated over with solid ice, and parties of Innuits were out in all directions seal-hunting, but with such slight success that several of them departed for other quarters, where they hoped seals would be more abundant. Among these were Ugarng and his family. They started for Cornelius Grinnell Bay, but, before leaving, a few cakes of hard bread were given them, that the party might have something to fall back upon in case of success not following immediately.
It was not long, however, before Ugarng returned very sick. He left in the morning, and arrived at the ship about 4 p.m. thus making a rapid journey on his sledge of about forty miles. Two days afterward, having received extra aid and medicine, he once more started, and, as will be presently related, when I made an excursion to where he had gone, I found him busily engaged sealing.
Among the other incidents to be mentioned as occurring about this period of my narrative, I must not forget to say that Christmas and New Year's Day were celebrated by us in our winter quarters with all the honours it was in our power to show. A few of the natives were on board to dine on Christmas Day, and I took the opportunity to give Tookoolito a Bible that had been placed in my hands by the Young Men's Christian Union of Cincinnati, and which I thought could not be devoted to a better purpose. I inscribed upon it the following:—
"Presented to Tookoolito, Tuesday, December 25th, 1860."
Her first act was to read the title, "Holy Bible," then to try and read some of its pages, which she still longs to understand.
The new year of 1861 was welcomed by me at its very earliest commencement, having been up throughout the night. The previous evening I had been paying visits on shore ​among the natives, and at 1 a.m. of the first day of January I was engaged in writing, in the midst of the sleeping forms of Esquimaux made warm and happy for the night in our main cabin. Paulooyer (Blind George) and his little girl, Kookooyer, were there, well wrapped up, and Kimmiloo, in my sleeping bag, was asleep on a sea-chest. Koojesse and his wife Tunukderlien were in my berth, and two other Esquimaux were on the cabin floor. Ebierbing and Tookoolito were on shore in their own igloo, and it was to them that, at half-past 5 a.m. I made my first New Year's "call." Various other "calls" were made, all with a view to some beneficial result, and, if possible, to do the poor people good in their then wretched state, and throughout the day sundry manifestations among our own men were given, akin to those adopted at home.
On this day, January 1st, 1861, we had the thermometer —1°, barometer 29.20, and the weather calm, with light clouds. We did not, therefore, feel the cold as might have been expected, and thus our New Year's day passed off most agreeably.
I have now to relate an occurrence that was as startling to me in its terrible yet solemn character as anything I had ever before known or heard of.
I have mentioned that another Esquimaux woman, called Nukertou, was found to be very sick, and I therefore determined to again call upon her, taking some medicine, and a little quince jelly that had been given me by loved ones at home.
I left the ship, and, after crossing some very broken and dangerous ice, which formed a sort of unstable and disjointed causeway, arrived at the village during the morning. I asked Tookoolito to accompany me, which she cheerfully did, and together we went to the tupic of Nukertou. She had been left alone in her sickness, all uncared for, as was customary, I regret to say, with the Esquimaux when any of them were helplessly ill.
The poor woman was very glad to see me, but she was so ​weak and suffered so much that she could hardly move. I gave her medicine, which soon relieved her, and for this I received many thanks; but I thought her end near. I could see by her wasted form and utter prostration that she had not long to live. Perhaps, had she received such early attention from her own people as is shown among families in civilised life, she might have survived; but from no one did she get this, and only by chance did her illness reach my ears.
I have before mentioned her kindly nature, ever ready to do anything she could for all of us on board without looking for fee or reward, and, so long as she had strength, she was to be seen at some friendly task; but her absence was not particularly noticed, owing to the fact that Innuits are of a character so thoroughly independent that they come and go just as they please.
On the present occasion, Nukertou was living in an igloo occupied by Shimerarchu (Johnny Bull), with his wife Kokerzhun, and her little sister Kimmiloo. The latter came in while I was speaking to Nukertou, and when Tookoolito left, the girl showed much attention to her.
The sick woman lay on skins of the reindeer placed on the snow platform opposite the entrance of the igloo, and, though in the usual condition of Esquimaux when in bed, said she felt quite warm. The medicine, and perhaps the kindly words, had done her good. But some days afterward I found her snow bed had become unfit for sleeping upon. Some unusually high temperature of the weather for that time of the year, added to the heat—though not much—of her own body, had melted the snow couch, and she had sunk in an awkward position. Accordingly, one day (December 21), assisted by her friends, I made her a fresh bed by procuring blocks of drifted snow, crushing them finely as flakes, and making the same into a soft, smooth basis, upon which was placed the usual layer of the small dry shrub, and on top of that some reindeer skins. This, then, was the new bed for poor sick Nukertou, and for a time she seemed more comfortable. But neither the attentions of Tookoolito or myself ​availed. Gradually she declined; and, though we administered to her such food as was necessary (all the Innuit people, at this period, being near a state of starvation, owing to a very bad season for seal-hunting again), her death rapidly approached.
On December 30th, I find the following in my journal concerning her:—
"Invited Tookoolito to go with me and make a call upon sick Nukertou. We found her as yesterday. I had a talk with her, Tookoolito acting as interpreter. What a scene for my memory! There sat Kokerzhun before her fire-lamp, drinking in every word, as Tookoolito interpreted to sick Nukertou what I had requested to be said. Tookoolito went on talking to Nukertou all that I had taught her of God, Christ, heaven, the good, &c., and there she stood, weeping over the form of her whom we all love as a sister—noble Nukertou.
"After this interesting interview Tookoolito and Kokerzhun proceeded to the vessel, while I went to the former's igloo, and obtained my spirits of camphor for the purpose of laving the temples of Nukertou. Here I remained, chafing the hot, tattooed brow of this afflicted but resigned Esquimaux—here I remained alone with this dear one, whose spirit may soon be in the presence of God and angels. Oh that she may go to that happy land where all is rejoicing, and the song is, 'Glory to God in the highest!'"
The day but one afterward I paid my usual visit to Nukertou, and found that Shimerarchu was building a new igloo for her. Upon inquiry, I found that it was to be her living tomb! I was thunder-struck. A living tomb! And so, Tookoolito said, according to custom, it must be; and so it was.
On the 4th of January, 1861, Nukertou was removed to the new igloo. She was carried thither upon reindeer skins by four women, who took her in through an opening left for the purpose at the back, not by the usual entrance. Snow blocks were then procured, and the aperture well closed, while a woman stood by and gave instruction what to do. An ​ordinary entrance was then made, and, as soon as completed, I went into the igloo.
Nukertou was calm, resigned, and even thankful for the change. Of course she knew that it was to be her tomb; but she was a child of her people, and as she had now become a helpless burden to them, with only a few days more to live, it seemed to me that she took it as a matter of right and justice, and no one could object. Therefore she was thankful that her last moments were being so carefully seen to.
A new igloo of stainless snow, a well-made bed of the same material, where she could breathe her last, would make her few remaining hours happy. True, she would be alone—for such was the custom of her people—but she did not fear it. She was content, and appeared cheerfully resigned.
It may be asked by some, Why did I not try to prevent such an outrage upon the feelings of any Christian person? If so, I reply that I did try to get her on board the ship, but I soon found in no one thing are the native tribes more sensitive than interference with their superstitious rites and ceremonies, especially in relation to death. Hence it might have been most unwise, even if possible, to have taken Nukertou on board. Therefore I did my best for her in the igloo, where she would have been literally entombed alive, but for my inquest to attend upon her.
On the 8th of January she died; and as the incidents connected with her death were very striking, I will transcribe them from my journal as entered down at the time:
"Monday, January 7.—This evening, fearing that Nukertou was wholly neglected, I went on shore about five o'clock. Of course it was then quite dark, with the thermometer 57° below the freezing point, and it was necessary for me to have a lantern in hand, besides some of the natives to guide me across the ice. On arriving at the igloo, Ebierbing and the others remained outside, while I, pushing aside the little snow door, drew myself through the low, narrow-tunnel entrance, which was just of size sufficient to admit my ​squeezed-up body, and neared the inner part. A strange and solemn stillness pervaded the place, only interrupted by the perceptible, but irregular and spasmodic breathings of the dying creature within. I raised myself up, looked toward her, and gently uttered her name. She answered not. A second call from me was alike unresponded to. I therefore went to her and felt her pulse. It still beat, but told me too surely that she was dying. Immediately I cried out for Ebierbing and Koodloo (the latter a male cousin of Nukertou) to come in. They did so reluctantly. I informed them that Nukertou was dying. The announcement seemed to be overwhelming in sadness. Watching intently each breathing of this friend of all, for a while we were silent. At length it occurred to me that Tookoolito would wish to be informed of Nukertou's condition. I therefore indicated the same to her husband, who immediately ran with all haste to send her here. A few moments found Tookoolito in the presence of the dying. No call from her familiar voice could arouse a recognition from the one who was now about to depart. Alas, for us! Nukertou was surely on her way to the land of spirits.
"Tookoolito, remaining here as long as was required, and finding the change going on with Nukertou was by slow degrees, returned to her igloo, leaving me and Koodloo with Nukertou. In one hour I left Koodloo alone in charge, and stepped over to Ebierbing's for a few moments. Upon my return to Nukertou's, what was my astonishment when I found the igloo sealed up—blocks of snow placed firmly in and around the entrance-way. It seemed to tell me that she was dead. I had but a short time before learned it to be the usual custom among the Innuits, when one of their number is dying, for all to retire from the igloo or tupic, whichever it might be, and not return to it. But I thought, 'After all, perhaps not dead!' I threw back block after block of unspotted snow, till at length I made my way into the main igloo.
"Nukertou was not dead! She breathed, and was much ​about the same as when I last saw her. I determined then to remain, doing what I could to smooth the pillow of the dying. The lamp was nearly out; the cold was intense, the thermometer outside being 51° below the freezing point; and though I had on the Esquimaux dress, it was with difficulty I could keep my blood from congealing. There I was, the lone, silent watcher of a dying Esquimaux, encircled within snow walls that were soon to become her tomb. Thank God I was there! It did my soul good to hold communion with high heaven at such a time. It did me good to be where angels, just from heaven, came to greet and bear away a soul precious to God. What a scene! Indeed, to me it was one that has become ineffaceably fixed on memory's tablet.
"About twelve, midnight, I heard footsteps approaching. Soon the sound as if the entrance was being closed up again. I thought, Can it be that I am to be imprisoned here, doomed to have this my living tomb? I listened a while. I found it true that I was being shut up as though dead. Of course those who were doing this knew not I was there. At length I cried out 'Turbar! turbar!' Stop! stop! At this, all was again silent as the grave for a moment. I then said, 'Ki-ete'—come in; and in came the two who were performing the last sad act of respect to the dead. But what shall I say of their last act to the living? The two proved to be Koodloo and a woman called Koo-ou-le-arng, or Suzhi, as we named her. Here they remained half an hour with me, then departed. I was again alone with the dying Esquimaux. Nearer and nearer drew her end. Coldness was creeping over her. Indeed, I found the cold taking hold of me. The native lamp, which serves for light and fire, had ceased from want of blubber or oil. There was only my lantern-lamp to give light, and the oil of this was kept fluid by the calorie of my encircling hands.
"During the day my fur stockings had become damp from perspiration, therefore my feet were nearly frozen. Every few minutes I was necessitated to jump and thrash myself—to do anything I could to keep my limbs from frostbites.
​"How intently I watched each change in Nukertou! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven did I slowly count in the intervals of her breathing, and these increasing to even double that number. At last I could count nineteen between her inspirations, but her respirations were short and prolonged—irregular. At length Nukertou ceased to live. I exclaimed, 'She's dead! Receive back her spirit, I pray Thee, O God, for she is Thine.'
"I placed the lamp before her face. She breathed not. And there I sat on the platform of snow by her side, her dishevelled locks matted and tangled with reindeer hair,
THE DYING ESQUIMAUX—NUKERTOU.
falling in wild disorder over her tattooed brow. I called to her, 'Nukertou! Nukertou!' but no response came back. The silence of the dead alone remained.
"I now left for another part of the island, to call her cousin Koodloo. He was asleep in an igloo, and, on awaking him, he accompanied me back. But I could find no one willing to lend a helping hand; no one would touch the dead. I ​therefore determined to lay the corpse out myself. Koodloo would do nothing but hold the lamp, and I had to perform the whole. I put her on a snow bed, crossed her hands upon her breast, closed her lips, and placed lumps of the pure snows of heaven upon her eyelids, with a snow pillow under her head. This done, I then left for the ship, having first taken the precaution to seal up the igloo so as to prevent the dogs from eating up her remains.
"It was three in the morning when Nukertou died, and as I left her, so did her body remain, unvisited, uncared for, within that igloo tomb."
My journal continues: "It might as well be here stated what occurred in Nukertou's igloo on the arrival of my valuable and esteemed friend Tookoolito, when her husband informed her of the dying condition of Nukertou. To my mind the incident goes to show how strongly are fixed among any people customs, however absurd they may appear to others.
"Tookoolito, on arriving last evening, proceeded to examine Nukertou's condition—feeling her pulse, listening to her breathings, watching her every motion. Too true, indeed, did she find what I had said. Tookoolito gently spoke words that astonished me, because they came from one who is not only conversant with my vernacular, but with the belief and practices of civilization. She said Nukertou was dying, and that we must all retire at once; that if we delayed till Nukertou's death, the skin dresses we had on would never do to be put on again.
"This was spoken with an earnestness that wanted no guarantee of her firm belief in what she said. Under the circumstances, I had no hesitancy as to my course then and there. I knew she had confidence in me; that she knew I always treated her people as well as I could my own; that she knew I never endeavoured to cast a slur or make light of any of the customs of her country. Therefore I said, 'Tookoolito, listen to wong-a (me) a moment. On Christmas day I gave you a good book—the Bible. That book is the Word of God. It tells ​you and me—everybody—to visit the sick, the afflicted, the widow, the helpless, the poor.'
"Kindly I proceeded, to the best of my poor ability, to show her wherein it was wrong thus to leave the sick—the dying. Her astonishment at what I said seemed as great to her as was mine at her recorded remark. During this important conversation, allusion was made as to working on tuktoo furs during the season of catching walrus. It is a fact that, when the Innuits begin to catch walrus, no work is done on reindeer skins; therefore all winter clothing is made up before any attempts are made to get walrus. The reasons why will be stated some time hereafter.
"In my arguments with Tookoolito I told her it was not to be wondered at that she and her people believed many unreasonable things, when there had been no one to teach them better—no one to tell them of the Bible. I told her that some people of America and in England believed a great many ridiculous things, but that did not make them true; told her that I only wished to do her good; that whenever I could kindly show where they—her people—were doing wrong, I should do so; that if she or her people could prove to me her or their ways were all the best, then I would be one to do as Innuits did. After this interview under the snow roof of the dying, I heard Tookoolito, in her igloo, earnestly engaged in telling her wing-a all that I had told her. They both seemed thankful for what I had said."
In connexion with the preceding account of Nukertou's death, and the Innuit customs referring to it, I may here mention another occurrence somewhat similar, which took place about the same time.
There was a sick native, whom I visited on two or three occasions, named Kooperarchu, who suffered greatly from ulcers on the neck. His case was desperate, and no remedies we applied availed him. As his end approached, the angeko took possession of him altogether, and when I once tried to see the patient, all the natives assured me it would be useless while the angeko was there. But I determined to make the ​trial, and, after some persuasion, and as a great favour, was admitted by the dying man's family.
This time the angeko was a woman, and when I entered, her position was at the farther side of the igloo, with her back to me, but seated, cross-legged, under a pile of skins. At her side was the poor man, Kooperarchu, kneeling, and in a state of complete nudity, though snow and ice were above, beneath, and around him.
At first I was startled at this; but, remembering what great wonders have been and can be accomplished by a sick person's complete faith in his physician, I made no attempt at interference except motioning for one of the brothers to place some covering over the patient's shoulders.
The angeko was constantly engaged in addressing some unknown spirit, doing it in as varied a way as could be well conceived. The whole family participated in the scene, placing themselves in position, responding, ejaculating, and doing whatever the angeko required; and all this with a solemnity that was particularly striking, so much so, indeed, that the exercises reminded me, in some respects, of what is known as a Methodist "love-feast."
When the exercises were through, the angeko turned round, appearing to notice me, and expressed surprise; but I soon mollified her rising anger by a slight present, which made her and the family very friendly.
Notwithstanding all the efforts made by this angeko, they availed nothing in arresting the rapid strides disease was making on this poor man's life. On the following day, myself being sick on board, I requested Tookoolito to see the patient, and took to him certain medicines I gave her. She did so then, and likewise on the next day, remaining half an hour with him. Soon after she had returned to her igloo, "Jack," a brother of Kooperarchu, called and said the sick man was dying. Immediately Tookoolito went back, and, feeling his pulse, found it almost gone. Kooperarchu felt himself dying, and said to her, as, in our language, she explained it to me, "I going to die—I cannot help it—I wish to die. My mother ​and father in kood-le-par-mi-ung (the Innuit heaven)—I go to meet them—I must go—I cannot stop!" She asked him, "Go now?" He replied, "Yes." This was the last word he spoke. Thus Kooperarchu died.
Kooperarchu was buried soon after his death. His friends and relatives wrapped him in two tuktoo skins and carried him away. The frozen corpse was suspended across the shoulders of his brother by a strap placed under the arms and across the breast, as one would carry a gun. Tookoolito headed the funeral train, and a married sister of the deceased, with a younger brother, and a couple of dogs, besides some of the natives, followed him to the grave. This grave was but a little distance from the village, and merely consisted of a recess made in the snow, with the same material piled over the dead body.
Three days after Kooperarchu's decease I was able to visit his family igloo. There I found his relations all sitting in a close group on the snow platform. They were bemoaning the loss of a brother and excellent seal-hunter. For three days from the death his family had thus to mourn, according to Innuit custom. At the end of that time they expected their lost brother would be in "kood-le-par-mi-ung," there for ever to enjoy its pleasures, feasting on reindeer meat, and wandering from star to star.
* ↑ From various sketches drawn for me by Esquimaux, I concluded Se-ko-se-lar to be a place on the north side of Hudson's Strait, near a large bay as yet undiscovered by white men. This bay is somewhere between the longitude 72° and 75° west, making far up, due north, and abounding in seals, walrus, white whales, and the Mysticeti, or Greenland whales.
* ↑ Hereafter I shall have occasion to relate an actual occurrence of this kind.