Never a strong sect, the Moravians have made up in zeal and quality of service what they lack in money and numbers. With no prospect of reward from the world, they have carried on year in and year out. Many an opportunity for improvement have they seen slip for lack of funds, but undaunted they have kept their faith and courage in spite of the most disheartening discouragements. When one brother succumbed another was always ready to fill the gap. Their service to humanity cannot be over-rated. Theirs is the true understanding.
But it seems that their long ministry soon may end. Never a strong sect, in the last few years they have suffered from many ill-advised attacks. During the war many of them were interned by the Newfoundland government, and their bishop was deported—acts not unlike those earlier perpetrated against the simple Acadian farmers. The great fur-trading companies have been making every effort to crowd them out. Last year unfortunately they were obliged to abandon their northernmost station to the Hudson’s Bay Company, and it is not unlikely that unless aid is soon forthcoming from some source, their remaining stations will suffer a like fate.
All true friends of Labrador who know of the labors of this noble group will view with regret the passing of this earnest organization which has accomplished so much for these simple children of the north. My strong personal hope is that the necessary funds for the perpetuation of this fine work may be realized. A few thousand dollars will mean worlds of help to them, and when one sees, he realizes the worth-whileness of giving to such a cause as is supported by these apostles of the outposts of civilization.
CHAPTER VII
IN ESKIMO LAND AND IN TROUBLE
NO sooner were we at anchor in Hopedale Harbor than I noticed the approach of several large boats filled with strange-looking, brown folk, different from any I had ever before seen. For a moment I was at a loss to explain them; then suddenly I remembered that we had arrived in Eskimo Land. I stared with interest and surprise. These were not the kind of people I had seen in pictures! These were not the grotesque, fur-swathed barbarians that my mind had conceived. With the exception of dark skin and rather high cheek-bones, they looked not so very different from ourselves, and they lacked that ferocious look I had seen stamped on their countenances in the Sunday supplements. As they came alongside they greeted us with expansive grins and a babble of good-natured banter which displayed their white teeth and black flashing eyes.
“Ochshinai! Taku oomiak-swa!” came from the boats, and I later learned that this meant, “Hello, look at the big ship.”
The Commander came on deck at this juncture and was greeted with an enthusiastic outburst, for his generosity and kindliness are remembered by more than one denizen of this isolated land. Immediately he entered into conversation with them, as he is well acquainted with the language. While he was thus engaged, Robbie appeared on deck and took in the situation at one glance. He then descended into the cabin with an inscrutable smile on his face. We did not realize what he was about until he reappeared laden with tobacco and candy. At once he was surrounded by a laughing, chattering mob striving to wheedle from him some of the coveted articles. With a deliberate air, born of long experience at this game, he began distributing these much-desired treasures. To each one he presented one article, and saw that none was slighted or obtained an undue share of the spoils, in spite of many ingenious and good-natured attempts to defraud him. Each attempt was regarded as a sporting proposition, and loud were the laughs among the natives when one of their number was detected trying to “gyp the system.”
Soon Mr. Perrit, the head missionary, arrived and officially welcomed us to Hopedale. Mr. Perrit is a strapping six footer with curly blonde hair—a regular Viking. He is one of the most earnest missionaries on the coast, and none has a greater and more well-deserved popularity than he. He remained aboard for some time, and after his departure we went ashore to consummate the purpose for which we had come to Hopedale—namely, to obtain warm Eskimo clothing for the colder weather to be encountered farther north.
We soon had the storekeeper booked up with orders, and he immediately set the entire female population to work chewing skins. The Eskimo tailor differs considerably from the Broadway type. In the first place it is a she instead of a he, and in lieu of shrinking the material she chews it. Since the material consists of sealskin or other heavy hides, it requires a thorough chewing to render it pliable. After the chewing is completed, she cuts the skin to the proper size and shape by means of an ooloo, or woman’s knife—a knife shaped like an old-fashioned chopping knife. Then she takes the material and sews it together with sinew from the back of a deer. This sinew has the useful property of swelling when wet, and once it has been wet, it never again contracts. This swelling completely closes the needle hole and renders the garment water-tight. It is no easy task to wield a needle in this tough hide, but these strong-fingered women turn out a very finished product. The fit may leave something to be desired as the measurements are taken by eye and the garment constructed accordingly, but they are warm and comfortable.
In addition to the clothes, we also laid in a supply of sealskin boots, as the Labrador product is far superior to the Greenland variety. The workmanship is more thorough, and the water-resisting qualities are better. These boots are made of harp seal and are the best things going for Arctic work. With a handful of grass in the sole to form insulation against the cold and to act as a pad against pebbles or sharp ice, they are as comfortable an article of footwear as one can desire.