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THE STORY OF COMOGK THE ESKIMO IO5
hood of her koolitah suddenly crawled half-way out along her bare shoulder, looked up ai us a few moments with big brown eyes, then stuck out its tiny arm and smiled. That broke the ice. I took its hand, it smiled again, the mother smiled, the children smiled and then the father, one of the finest-looking Eskimoes I have ever seen. He had a long, finely-chiselled nose, a chin as solid as a rock and penetrating, long-sighted eyes. His hair hung to his shoulder. 'Chimo,' he said. 'Chimo,' echoed his wife. 'Chimo,' piped the children. The mother twitched her shoulder on which the baby lay; it understood and smiled again. 'Who are you?5 I asked. 'My name is Comock,' he answered, smiling expectantly. 'Where in the world have you come from?* 'From far away, from big island, from far over there/ he answered, pointing out to the west. 'You see, our omiak is not very good,' and he laughed and his family laughed with him. We took them all aboard and, with this incredible contraption in tow, sailed on back towards the post. He told me this story.
Comock' s Story
For ten winters and ten summers we had been living on an island, far out on the sea (said Comock). See, my wife has kept count. She has written it here on the handle of my harpoon. (And he showed me the harpoon, the wooden handle of which was notched from end to end, a notch for each moon.)
The land where we used to live was poor; no walrus, few seals, no deer. I had two wives and many children. I did not know any more how to keep them alive, but I had an idea. I'd had it for a long time. Far out at sea from my land there is an island. None of my people had ever seen it, it was so far away. I heard about it from the White Chief of a whaler. He told me there were days when the sky over it was almost black with the flight of birds, the big birds that