Cast Away in the Cold / An Old Man's Story of a Young Man's Adventures, as Related by Captain John Hardy, Mariner

by I. I. Hayes

The Children of the Frozen Sea.

“We must have gone at least sixty or seventy miles before we made a single halt; and then we came to the village where these savages lived. It was not on the land, but out on the frozen sea over which we had travelled. As we approached, the dogs ran very fast. ‘Igloo, igloo!’ exclaimed the savages, pointing, when we neared the village. As we had already learned that igloo meant hut, in their language, we were much rejoiced; for we were very tired with the long journey, and cold besides. But still we fell to wondering what sort of place this was we were coming to, and what strange sight we were next going to see.

“Old Grim drove his sledge close up along side of Eatum’s, trying to pass; and we went into the village with a perfect rush,—the men shouting, the dogs barking, and everything in an uproar generally.

“While this race between Old Grim and Eatum was going on, the Dean and I were for a few moments side by side, and near together. The Dean called out to me, ‘Hardy, this don’t seem real, does it? These ain’t dogs, they are wolves; these ain’t men, they’re devils’; and, as I looked over at Old Grim, and saw him throwing his long whip to right and left, and heard him calling out to his dogs in a language which seemed like nothing human, and all the while preserving the same immovable expression of countenance, I must confess that there seemed to be a great deal of truth in what the Dean said.

“Thus it was we went rushing into the village. And a strange village, indeed, it proved to be,—nothing but a collection of huts made of frost-hardened snow. There were in all six of them.

“Many more savages were there, who came out to meet us; and their dogs rushed out too, making a great noise; and when we had halted, a number of women joined them, all dressed in furs just like the men, and also children dressed in the same way, and all very curious about us, and all yeh-yeh-ing a great deal. Indeed, we made such a commotion in the village as never was seen before.

“But everybody appeared to be kindly disposed towards us, and into one of the huts we were both taken immediately, and down we sat on the floor of the hut, which was covered all over with bear-skins. There were two lamps in it, almost exactly like ours, and two pots were hanging over them. We had soon a good meal, and very quickly after that were sound asleep; and even although it was a snow hut, and among savages, we were thankful in our very heart of hearts. And our thankfulness was because we were among human beings once more, and felt no longer as if we were wholly cast away from the world; and we now felt hopeful that through these savages would come means of escape to our homes. We felt thankful, too, that they treated us so kindly,—the women especially; for, savages though they were, they were possessed of much feeling and sympathy. One of the women made the Dean go to sleep with his head in her lap, which it was easy to see he did not like a bit; and, before this, she had fed him with her own fingers, and, while he was sleeping, she stroked his bright hair away from his handsome face. Another of the women treated me very much in the same way; but being older, and not handsome, like the Dean, I did not come in for so many favors.

“Then, besides that, the women took off our damp fur stockings, and gave us dry ones before we went to sleep; and they seemed to want to do everything they could for us, so that we soon became convinced they meant us no harm. The woman who was particularly kind to me was the wife of Eatum; and the Dean and I at once called her Mrs. Eatum, which made them all yeh-yeh very much; and they got to calling her that too,—as near, at least, as they could pronounce it which was, Impsuseatum. Her right name was Serkut, which means ‘little nose’; Eatum’s right name was Tuk-tuk, that is, reindeer, because he could run very fast. There were two young Eatums; and when I began to play with them, I grew in great favor with the Eatum family.

“The Dean was quite as well off for patrons as I, being specially taken care of by a woman whose husband had been one of our party. Her name I forget now, but it meant ‘big toes.’ So what with nursing by ‘Mrs. Little-nose’ and ‘Mrs. Big-toes,’ and with plenty of seal meat to eat, the Dean and I got on famously. The name of Mrs. Big-toes’ husband was Awak, which means walrus. He was a fine hunter, and had plenty of dogs. These dogs, I should mention, were always allowed to run loose about the village; and, no matter how cold it was, they slept on the snow. But their harness had to be taken off, else they would eat it; and everything eatable was buried out of sight in the snow, or brought inside the hut.