My Eskimo Friends (1924)

MY ESKIMO FRIENDS 56 as we swung in alongside: “Well, sir, some queer fish comes in with the tide.” Within a week, kayaks catamaraned, the rifle-cracking launch and dories had ferried the Laddie s cargo to shore to where streams of old men, women, and children carried it to the building huts, speculating the while as to what each box and bale and bundle contained. For hours at a time they watched the crew build the kablunak’s big igloo. Prizes to them were waste bits of board and bent nails. Until the sea ice formed there was a succession of bleak, melancholy days with gales of driving sleet and rain. We were taken up with work around the base getting our gear and equipment in shape, making sledges and bartering for dogs for the winter sledging. We made inland journeys over the island upon which we lived, and cruises along its coastline, in the hope of locating sufficient driftwood for our winter’s fuel. We had counted on getting driftwood but nowhere could we find a supply to serve two huts the winter through, so on the last open water of the year, we took the Laddie across to the Great Whale Coast on the mainland and returned with wood, laden to the rails. Of coal, we had some four tons, all that was obtainable at Moose Factory, and this, with the Laddie's cargo, I hoped would be enough. With each new face that came drifting in, Wetalltok and I pored over maps and listened to what he had to say about the islands, and about his own hunting grounds in particular. By the number of sleeps it took to travel, we could approximate the distance to the point whence he had come. The magnitude of the country grew with each new tale. With pieces of iron ore, Wetalltok explained to the