Tales of the Eskimo

By Henry Toke Munn

These stories were mostly written to pass a few hours of the long Arctic nights. Some are wholly fiction, others fact, or founded on fact, and the reader will easily discriminate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alien Ebooks
• Release date: May 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667625263

Book preview

woman

A Comely Matron.

Tales of the Eskimo

Being Impressions of a Strenuous, Indomitable,

and Cheerful Little People.

. With Photographs by the Author .

BY

Captain HENRY TOKE MUNN

LONDON:

38 Soho Square, W.1

W. & R. CHAMBERS, LIMITED

EDINBURGH:

339 High Street

Printed in Great Britain.

W. & R. Chambers, Ltd., London

and

Edinburgh

.

TO

MY WILLING WORKERS

CHEERFUL COMPANIONS

AND

VERY FAITHFUL FRIENDS

THE BAFFIN-LAND

ESKIMO

PREFACE.

These stories were mostly written to pass a few hours of the long Arctic nights. Some are wholly fiction, others fact, or founded on fact, and the reader will easily discriminate.

Many were told me in snow igloos on my travels, when a howling blizzard and its fog of fine, drifting snow enforced a halt, maybe for two or three days on end. Others I gathered lazying outside the skin tents in the warm brilliant sunshine of the brief summer days, when the snow-buntings piped their little lark-like song overhead, or the midnight sun was high in the sky to the northward; this is the Eskimo’s happiest time—especially for their children shouting and playing amongst the rocks, or along the sandy beaches of the yet ice-bound sea.

I am painfully aware of the literary shortcomings in this little volume, but I have endeavoured faithfully to record the life of the native Eskimo as it was, or as it might have been, in the incidents related. That there are very black sheep amongst them my tales will show, and certain kinds of half-breed—notably the ‘Portuguee’—often seemed to me to be unreliable and faithless; other half-breeds, again, I have found as true as steel, and indistinguishable from the pure-bred native in their customs or outlook on life.

If I have succeeded in conveying the impression of a strenuous, indomitable, cheerful little people, in general kindly to their old folk and affectionate to their children, I have done them bare justice; to this may be added that they meet life, or death, with a high and gallant bearing, and I have always found them faithful to their word with the white man to whom they have given their confidence and in whom they trust. Arctic explorers, travellers, and scientists—such as Peary, Amundsen, Stefansson, Hanbury, Anderson, and Jenness—confirm this view. A quotation from Amundsen’s book, The North-West Passage, epitomises it: ‘The best wish I can make them (the Nechilling tribe of King William Land) is—May civilisation never reach them. ’ The wish, alas! was a vain one, for sixteen years later the ethnologist Jenness records them—or their near neighbours—‘doomed to become the economic slaves of the great world to the South of them.’

They are, I fear, a passing race, destined to disappear under the blighting shadow of a complex civilisation they can so well go without, until it once reaches them.

Before I too pass on, I raise my hand and salute them, for many of them have been my brave companions and true friends.

Henry Toke Munn.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

child

Kyak-jua.

TALES OF THE ESKIMO.

SPIRIT ISLAND.

Ihave told this story to only a few people, and my attempt to get a hearing before the Natural History authorities, both in New York and in London, completely failed, the secretaries treating me in pretty much the same manner. ‘Oh yes,’ they said indulgently, looking at my card, ‘that’s all right. We have heard about it, and we’ll take the matter up sometime. But don’t call again; wait till we write you.’ Then they rang, and one of the attendants was told to show me round, if I cared to see the place, and put me on the way to where I was staying. Of course, they thought I was a crank.

I publish the narrative, therefore, rather reluctantly, accepting the fact that it will not be believed, but with a hope that it may inspire some credulous and courageous naturalist, with a taste for adventure, to visit Spirit Island, and return with a live or a dead specimen of what I saw there. If he can do this, his name will go down in history, and the museums—and the circuses—of the world will grovel at his feet for its possession. But he needn’t ask me to accompany him.

In 1914 I was sent to the Arctic by my employers (a London firm well known in the mining world) to investigate certain localities for alluvial gold, and others for tin ore. In 1914-15 I wintered at Ponds Inlet, the north-east end of Baffin Land—lat. 72·48° N., long. 76·10° W. I made the investigations according to my instructions, and in August 1915 returned to the depot to await the arrival of my ship. By 15th October no ship had appeared, and I knew I was in for another winter. I had with me a Scottish lad to look after the depot in my absence—for the Eskimo will steal if no white man is about, and we were not short of supplies.

In the event of the non-arrival of my ship, and a second winter being enforced, I had been asked to try to investigate a certain locality on the north coast of a large island, known as Prince of Wales Land, about five hundred miles west of my depot. This island lies at the south-west end of Barrow Strait, and between Peel Sound and Franklin Strait to the east and M‘Clintock Channel and M‘Clure Strait to the west. It can be seen on any Arctic map.

I set out from the depot in February, with seven natives and three dog-sleds, leaving orders for the ship to come for me to Leopold Island in Lancaster Sound if I did not return before the ice broke up. My party were Panne-lou, my head man, who drove my sled with ten dogs; Akko-molee, who had his own sled and team of nine dogs; and Now-yea, who also had his own sled and eleven dogs, four of which were only three-quarter-grown puppies. Each man had his wife, without whom no native will make a prolonged journey, and Akko-molee had the only child in the party, a lad of about eleven years old, named Kyak-jua.

A word as to my natives. Panne-lou was a steady, reliable fellow, a good seal-hunter and dog-driver. His wife, Sal-pinna, was a disagreeable, cross-grained—and cross-eyed—woman, but capable and a good worker. Akko-molee was taken mainly because he was a native of Admiralty Inlet, two hundred miles west of my depot, and had hunted bear on the North Somerset coast. He was only moderately useful, and very inclined to sulk on any provocation. His boy, Kyak-jua, was a capital little fellow, the life of our party, full of energy, and a great favourite with all of us. I had given him a .22 rifle, and he was constantly getting me ptarmigan and Arctic hares with it when we were on the land. His mother, Anno-rito, was a quiet, pleasant woman, and entirely devoted to her boy.

Now-yea, my third native, was an active, merry little man, willing and tireless, but irresponsible and very excitable. His number two wife (he had a couple), In-noya, was the best woman, and eventually proved to be the best man, in the party. I shall have more to say about her later on. Now-yea had left his number one wife and four children, all of whom were hers, at my depot, and I had agreed to provide for them till our return.

The pay, arranged before starting, consisted of tobacco, sugar, tea, and biscuit for the trip—or as long as our supplies lasted—and to each man, on our return to the depot, a new rifle, ammunition, a box (twenty-two pounds) of tobacco, a barrel of biscuit, some tea, coffee, and molasses, and a spy-glass, or some equivalent if they already had one; also some oddments, such as cooking-utensils, day-clocks, needles, braid, scented soap, &c., for the women, and ten pounds of tobacco to each one. These were regarded as high wages by the other natives, of whom I could have had my pick, but they were fully earned, and many extras I threw in, as the sequel will show.

My outfit—besides the supplies already mentioned—consisted of twenty pounds of dynamite, some caps and fuse, also one of these new, very small, ‘Ubique’ batteries, six short drills, and a two and a half pound hammer. We had a rifle per man, and one spare one—all single-shot ·303 carbines, except mine, which was an ordinary English service magazine-rifle; plenty of ammunition; a complete sailing-gear for each man, and two spare harpoons and lances; a hand-axe for each sled; native lamps for cooking and heating, and cooking-utensils. We had og-juke (bearded seal) skins, for boot-soles later on, and seal-skins and deer-skin legs for cold-weather footwear, plenty of dressed deer-skin for stockings and socks, deer-skin blankets and heavy winter-killed hides to sleep on. We all had new deer-skin clothes, and expected to get young seal ‘white coats’ for wear on the return journey, when the others would be too warm.

My medicines were a flask of brandy, some tabloid drugs and antiseptics, a few bandages, and some surgical needles and thread. My personal luxury was a few dozen of the excellent ‘Cambridge’ soup-powders. I took a small kayak (skin canoe) as far as Leopold Island for sealing later, if we had to wait there, and also a tent.

One item of my outfit, a small Kodak camera, I was unfortunate enough to smash hopelessly a few days before starting. I shall for ever regret this disaster—for such it proved to be—and the irremediable loss it occasioned me.

This is not a story of Arctic travel, so I will omit the details of the journey. My route lay through Navy Board Inlet, and thence west along Lancaster Sound to Prince Regent Inlet, crossing to Leopold Island, and over the North Somerset Land—which is a flat tableland in from the coast—to Peel Sound and Prince of Wales Land. We had to make about six hundred and twenty-five miles of travelling, though, as I have said, it was only five hundred miles as the crow flies, and, of course, we had to depend on sea and land animals for ourselves and our dogs to live on, and for blubber for light, cooking, and warmth. Such journeys are made every winter by some of the Eskimo, either when visiting other parties or on hunting-trips, and are by no means unusual. The main, indeed the indispensable, thing being to find seals, halts of a day or two are made for the purpose.

Now, I want to emphasise the fact that Prince of Wales Land is by no means what literary people call a terra incognita, at least so far as the coast-line is concerned. Parry discovered it a hundred years ago, and Roald Amundsen sailed his famous little ship the Gjoa down Peel Sound and Franklin Strait when he made the North-West Passage. No natives have been found on North Somerset or on Prince of Wales Land, though hunting-parties visit North Somerset occasionally.

I had not told my destination to the natives beyond North Somerset, and when we arrived at Leopold Island, and I unfolded my plans in the igloo that night, there was great consternation. We should starve; the ice would go out and leave us stranded there; and, lastly—here was the real hitch—it was a ‘bad’ country.

‘Why bad,’ I asked, ‘when you say none of you have been there?’

There was a pause before Panne-lou said reluctantly, ‘It is full of Torn-ga [bad spirits]; we are afraid of them.’

It took me half the night, talking and cajoling, before I overcame this absurd objection. Finally they consented to go on, but stipulated that we should travel close to the shore at Prince of Wales Land, to which I, of course, willingly agreed.

A small building, once full of stores, stands on Leopold Island. Naturally, it had been completely looted by the natives, but it served excellently to store our kayak and tent in, out of the weather.

I will relate one incident of the journey, as it shows the stuff one member of our party was made of. The day after we left Leopold Island we camped on the tableland of North Somerset, and I decided to stay a day there, and try for some deer, both as a change from seal-meat, of which we were all tired, and also to provide a ‘cache,’ or store of meat against our return.

I sent the three men off with all the