I have observed for some days past decided symptoms of a rivalry existing between my two Esquimau hunters, Hans and Peter, both of whom are very serviceable to me. Peter is a very clever little fellow, and withal honest; and he has quite taken my fancy. He is a thorough-bred Esquimau, with very dark complexion, jet-black hair, which he cuts in native fashion, square across his forehead; but he keeps himself clean and neat, and is on all occasions very well behaved. Not only is he a fine hunter, but he possesses great ingenuity, and has wonderful skill with his fingers. I have before me several specimens of his handiwork in the shape of salt-spoons, paper-cutters, and other little trinkets which, with an old file, a knife, and a piece of sand-paper, he has carved for me out of a walrus tusk. They are cut with great accuracy and taste. He is always eager to serve my wishes in every thing; and since I never allow zeal to go unrewarded, he is the richer by several red-flannel shirts, and a suit of pilot-cloth clothes. Of course, Hans is jealous. Indeed, it is impossible for me to exhibit any kindness of this sort to any of my Esquimau people without making Hans unhappy. He avoids showing his temper openly in my presence, but he gets sulky, and does not hunt, or, if ordered out, he comes home without game. He is a type of the worst phase of the Esquimau character. The Esquimaux are indeed a very strange kind of people, and are an interesting study, even more so than my dogs, although they are not so useful; and then the dog can be controlled with a long whip and resolution, while the human animal cannot be controlled with any thing. They might very properly be called a negative people, in every thing except their unreliability, which is entirely positive; and yet among themselves they exhibit the semblance of virtuous conduct, at least in this: that while in sickness or want or distress they never render voluntary assistance to each other, yet they do not deny it; indeed, the active exhibition of service is perhaps wholly unknown or unthought of amongst them; but they do the next best thing—they never withhold it. From the rude hut of the hardy inhabitant of these frozen deserts the unfortunate hunter who has lost his team and has been unsuccessful in the hunt, the unprotected family who have lost their head, even the idle and thriftless, are never turned away; but they are never invited. They may come, they may use what they find as if they were members of the family, taking it as a matter of course; but if it were known that they were starving, at a distance, there is no one who would ever think of going to them with supplies. They are the most self-reliant people in the world. It does not appear ever to occur to them to expect assistance, and they never think of offering it.
The food and shelter which the needy are allowed to take is not a charity bestowed; the aid which the hunter gives to the dogless man who jumps upon his sledge for a lift on a journey is not a kindness. He would drop him or give him the slip if occasion offered, even if in a place from whence he could not reach his home. He would drive off and leave him with the greatest unconcern, never so much as giving him a thought. If he should change his abode, the family that had sought his protection would not be invited to accompany him. They might come if able, he could not and would not drive them away; indeed, his language contains no word that would suit the act; but, if not able to travel, they would be left to starve with as much unconcern as if they were decrepit dogs which the hunt had rendered useless.
ESQUIMAU TRAITS.
They neither beg, borrow, nor steal. They do not make presents, and they never rob each other; though this does not hold good of their disposition toward the white man, for from him they make it a habit to filch all they can.
I cannot imagine any living thing so utterly callous as they. Why, even my Esquimau dogs exhibit more sympathetic interest in each other's welfare. They at least hang together for a common object; sometimes fighting, it is true, but they make friends again after the contest is over. But these Esquimaux never fight, by any chance. They stealthily harpoon a troublesome rival in the hunt, or an old decrepit man or woman who are a burden; or a person who is supposed to be bewitched, or a lazy fellow who has no dogs, and lives off his more industrious neighbors. They even destroy their own offspring when there happen to be too many of them brought into the world, or one should chance to be born with some deformity which will make it incapable of self-support; but they never meet in open combat; at least, such are the habits of the tribes who have not yet been reached in some degree by the influences of Christian civilization, or who have not had ingrafted upon them some of the aggressive customs of the old Norsemen, who, from the ninth to the fourteenth centuries, lived and fought in Southern Greenland.
ESQUIMAU TRAITS.
With such traits of character they are naturally disinclined to be amiable toward any one who is particularly fortunate, and it is not surprising, therefore, that Hans should be envious of Peter. Even had I given the latter no more clothing than was sufficient to cover his nakedness, it would have been all the same. Had I crowded upon Hans the best of every thing in the vessel, without respect to quantity or usefulness, it would not be more than he covets. But the fellow is especially jealous of my personal kind attentions to Peter, for he sees in that the guaranty of still further gifts.
Hans, by the way, keeps up an establishment of his own; and, having a piece of feminine humanity, he can claim the dignity of systematic housekeeping. Within the house on the upper deck he has pitched his Esquimau tent, and, with his wife and baby, half buried in reindeer-skins, he lives the life of a true native. His wife bears the name of Merkut, but is better known as Mrs. Hans. She is a little chubby specimen of woman-kind, and, for an Esquimau, not ill-looking. In truth she is, I will not say the prettiest, but the least ugly thorough-breed that I have seen. Her complexion is unusually fair, so much so that a flush of red is visible on her cheeks when she can be induced to use a little soap and water to remove the thick plaster of oily soot which covers it. This, however, rarely happens; and as for undergoing another such soaking and scrubbing as the sailors gave her on the way up from Cape York, she cannot be induced to think of it.
HANS AND HIS FAMILY.
The baby is a lively specimen of unwashed humanity. It is about ten months old, and rejoices in the name of Pingasuk—"The Pretty One." It appears to take as naturally to the cold as ducklings to water, and may be seen almost any day crawling through the open slit of the tent, and then out over the deck, quite innocent of clothing; and its mother, equally regardless of temperature or what, in civilized phrase and conventional usage we designate as modesty, does not hesitate to wander about in the same exposed manner. The temperature, however, of the house is never very low, mostly above freezing.