My Eskimo Friends (1924)

122 MY ESKIMO FRIENDS around us — one Yew, of long experience with whalers; one Noahasweetow; his son Annunglung; one “Jack Johnson”; three half-grown boys, four wives, one old grandmother, and a flock of children. Until February we made no film, for there were long sledge trips to make east and west along the coast. During the memorable days when we were in the hut there was much to do. The evenings through there were always guests from the igloos around, come to smoke a pipe, to gossip about their hunting, to listen to “the little box that makes the fine noise”; but most of all to watch our games of billiards which we played on a diminutive quarter-size table, under the yellow light of smoky lamps and rows of flickering candles, ejaculating their “ayee’s” and “ah’s” and holding their breath while some cue ball slowly rolled its fateful course. To our Christmas feast Eskimos sledged in from camps two days away — from Fair Ness, from the Isle of God’s Mercy, Chorkback, and Markham Bay. While outfitting in Newfoundland, two of the men had been deputed to make up a feast and pack it in a special box marked “Christmas,” keeping the contents a secret. Much too slowly December dragged on, and we decreed that the twenty-fifth of December was a mere figure of speech. We elected the fifteenth as the gladsome day. The billiard table, covered with canvas, was our festive board. The Eskimos dined on less delectable but bulkier fare in the overcrowded kitchen just beyond. Noahasweetow’s and Annunglung’s wives, uniformed in two old pairs of pajamas over their clothes of deerskin, served the table.