Accompanying them was a party of men in kyacks, and all were preparing to board the ship without invitation; but the first officer, by brandishing a cordwood stick, and threatening to hurl it at them if they came too near—backing up the menace with the liberal use of some strong English which they did not understand—induced them to await his convenience to receive them.
When the ship was past the shoals near which she was steaming, and safely into harbor, the natives were allowed to come on board. They were an odd-looking crowd, some of them curiously dressed. One old grey-haired chief had apparently reached a stage of civilization in his attire not common among the Eskimos, for outside of his seal-skin clothing he wore a long white cotton nightshirt, of which he was evidently very proud. The Eskimos are always pleased with the acquisition of white men’s garments, but their ideas as to how and when they should be worn do not always agree with ours.
Early navigators have described the Eskimos as being savage tribes, greatly to be feared, and it is true that unfortunate crews have fallen into their hands and been murdered by them; but often in such cases the fault has been as much with the whites as with the poor savages. They really possess very simple, childish natures, but at the same time are characterized by a quiet determination and deep jealousy, which, when aroused, is likely to lead to acts of violence. From my own observation, I do not think that the Eskimos would, without considerable provocation or great temptation, harm any one falling into their hands.
Though not usually quarrelsome or vicious, they do fight with each other, but only at appointed times, when all old grudges and differences of opinion are cleared up at once. On the appointed day, all the disagreeing parties of the camp pair off, and standing at arm’s length from each other, strike turn about, and in this deliberate, systematic way take satisfaction out of each other, until one of the combatants cries, “Ta-bah” (enough).
The food of the Eskimo, as his name implies, is chiefly raw flesh; so the preparation of his meals is an extremely simple operation. The culinary department of civilization has no place in his life. Reindeer, seals, white whales and walruses are to the Eskimo the staple articles of food; but polar bears, Arctic hares and other animals, besides most of the Arctic birds, are considered equally good.
It is rather a novel, if not a repulsive sight, to witness an Eskimo feast. The occasion of the feast is the capture of a seal, or perhaps a reindeer, which, according to custom during the winter season, becomes common property, so that all are invited to the lodge of the fortunate hunter to share in the festivities.
The animal’s carcase is trailed into the middle of the lodge, and when all the guests are assembled, they seat themselves on the floor about it. The carcase is then skinned by the host, and the pelt laid down to form a dish or receptacle for the blood.
All things being ready, the party, armed with knives, are invited to help themselves, and this they do with great dexterity, and continue to do—not until they have had sufficient, but until the supply is exhausted and absolutely nothing remains but the skin and skeleton. The blood, being considered very fine, is dipped up with skin cups or horn spoons, and consumed with the flesh.
The blubber, or outer layer of fat, which is found on most Arctic animals, is separated from the skin and cut into long strips about an inch square. Thus prepared it is swallowed, though not eaten. It is simply lowered down the throat as one might lower a rope into a well. During the summer season the blubber is not used as food, but is saved for oil, to be used for lighting purposes during the long dark nights of the succeeding winter.