Book: The Eternal Maiden

T >> T. Everett Harre >> The Eternal Maiden




"May Ootah become a cripple! May he break his bones! May he lie
helpless for years! May his shadow leave him! May he suffer with the
greatest of all pains!"

As he uttered this terrible curse, desiring that Ootah's shadow,
wherein exists the soul, might depart from his still-living body, and
thus cause the most excruciating bodily anguish, Sipsu sank exhausted
to the ground. He writhed in a paroxysm.

"May Ootah die slowly; may his legs die, may his hands die--yea, may
the spirits of his body be severed from one another as ice fields in
the breaking; may the spirit of his hands, the spirit of his feet, the
spirit of his lungs, the spirit of his head, the spirit of his heart
wander apart--may they be torn asunder as the clouds in a storm! May
they wander apart forever seeking and may they never find themselves!
May Ootah suffer as never suffered the unhappy dead!"

And Maisanguaq's deep voice growled hatefully:

"May Ootah's body lie unburied! May he rot upon the earth! May the
ravens peck out his eyes! May a murderer drink his blood! May the
wolves eat his heart! May the spirit of the fog grow fat upon his
entrails! And may the spirits of his body scatter--as the clouds in
the wild _anore_ (winds) scatter! May his soul forever seek to find
its kindred spirits unavailingly and suffer in _Sila_, (throughout the
universe) forever!"

From under a pile of skins Sipsu, his chant subsiding, brought forth a
bundle. Opening it, he revealed a collection of old bones; there were
the bones of musk oxen, seals, walrus and smaller animals.

"Yah-hah-hah! I shall create a _tupilak_!" he crooned vindictively.
"I shall create a _tupilak_! And from the depths of the waters the
_tupilak_ shall see Ootah. Yah-hah-hah! I shall create a _tupilak_,
and from the hands of Sipsu it shall carry destruction to Ootah on the
sea. Yah-hah-hah!" He laughed crazily. Continuing his chant he
constructed of the bones a crude likeness to an animal skeleton. Over
this he sprinkled a handful of dried turf. Then, from beneath the
cover of his bed he brought a stone pot and from it poured a sluggish
red liquid over the strange object of his creation. This was a mixture
of clotted animal blood and water kept for such purposes of
conjuration. This done, he threw over the bones an aged sealskin.
Then he rose to his feet, and in a low voice uttered the secret
formulas whereby, in the depths of the sea, the result of his labor
should take the form of an artificial walrus.

Maisanguaq stood by, silent, evil exultation shining in his eyes.

While the Sipsu was moaning his spell over the pile of bones,
Maisanguaq turned and left the tent. Out on the sea he saw the kayaks
of his departing companions.

"Good luck, Maisanguaq, have courage in the chase! Remember Annadoah
awaits you all!" Annadoah called blithely and coquettishly after him.

Maisanguaq's lips tightened, his heart leaped, but well he knew that he
meant nothing to the maiden, well he knew what little chance he had,
and envy filled him, and bitter doubt, for he knew Ootah's prowess, his
strength of limb, and braveness of heart. However, he put out with
quick powerful strokes, and with a sense of anticipated triumph, for he
was confident that the magician by his necromancy had created in the
depths of the sea a _tupilak_, or artificial walrus, which should
attack Ootah. He knew it might upset Ootah's kayak and cause him to be
drowned. The probabilities were, however, that it would permit itself
to be harpooned, in which case its blighting curse would fall upon
Ootah, who would lose all power and strength of limb, whose body would
become bent and crippled and racked with the _kangerdlugpoq_, and who
would die slowly, inch by inch. Thus, Ootah would be helpless the rest
of his days and as he died all the dreadful horrors of the curses would
come upon him. Thus would Maisanguaq be revenged.

As the midnight sun dipped below the horizon, the sea became more
deeply golden. To the women watching along the shore, the multitude of
kayaks became mere black specks. They disappeared now and then behind
the crests of leaping waves, and reappearing moved with the swiftness
of birds along the horizon.

At the entrance of her tent Annadoah stood, one hand shading her eyes
as they pierced the radiant distance. From the mountain passes behind
the village echoed the joyous howls of approaching dogs. Something
stirred in the heart of Annadoah--something fluttered there like the
wings of a frightened bird.


Ootah's paddle touched the water with the softness of a feather, yet so
quickly that the double blades emitted constant flashes of light
intermittently on either side. His arms moved with consummate ease.
His kayak made a dark blurred line as it sped forward over the yellow
waters. Soon he had outdistanced the party. Then his speed slackened,
he glanced behind.

The other kayaks darted after him like erratic bugs. The land was a
mere curve on the horizon; all about him the sea rose and fell, and
from the shimmering mirror of every wave the sunlight shot backward in
various directions. A thousand golden searchlights seemed playing over
the sea. Now and then through the coppery mists an emerald green berg
loomed titanically, and as it slowly bore down upon him, Ootah would
gracefully manipulate one end of his paddle and shift his kayak about
while the berg lurched toweringly onward. As he gained distance from
the land the ocean swelled with increasing volume. His frail skin
kayak was lifted high on the oily crests of waves, and as it descended
with swift rushes, Ootah felt exultant thrills in his heart. Far away
he heard the resounding explosion of ice bergs colliding. A low bellow
arose from a floe immediately ahead. Ootah's blood leaped, the spirit
of the hunter throbbed in his veins, his nostrils sensitively quivered.
With a slow silent movement of the paddle, he prevented his kayak from
going too great a distance forward in order to await the others.
Judging by the sound of the muffled bellowing, he assumed that the
great animals were sunning themselves on the southern ridge of the
floe. His tactics were to paddle about to the north, land on the floe,
and descend upon the walrus from the protection of the ridges of
crushed ice which always abound on these rafts of the arctic sea.

While he retarded the kayak and played with his paddle, Ootah became
conscious of disquieting things in the world about him.

In the heavens he saw low lying clouds moving slowly southward. Higher
above, clouds moved more swiftly in another direction.

"The _quilanialeqisut_ (air spirits) are not at rest," murmured Ootah.
"O spirits of the air, what disturbs your ease?"

The clouds in the higher ether circled as if in an eddy of wind.
Certainly the spirits were not at peace among themselves.

"Spirits of the air," spake Ootah, "waft your caresses to Annadoah's
cheeks. Tell her Ootah waits to kill the walrus, that Ootah loves her
and would make Annadoah his wife--_neuilacto_ Annadoah; tell Annadoah
Ootah presses his nose to hers and calls her _Mamacadosa_ (of all
things that which tastes the most delightful)."

A gust swept the clouds from the zenith. Still no breath of air
touched the sea.

To the lee a group of small icebergs passed. They rocked and eddied,
and from their glacial sides the light poured in changing colors.

"O spirit of the light, carry thy bright message to the eyes of
Annadoah, tell her Ootah has loved her for many, many moons."

The bergs crashed into one another, and in the impact sank into the sea.

Ootah bit his lips. A vague misgiving was cold within his heart.

A flock of gulls passed low over the waters.

He called to them--that they should take his love to Annadoah. They
were to tell Annadoah that he would soon return, laden with food and
fuel for the winter. Their raucous cries mocked him. He demanded what
they meant. "Ootah--Ootah," they seemed to call, "how foolish art
thou, Ootah, how foolish art thou to love Annadoah. For fickle is
Annadoah--fickle, fickle the heart of the maiden Annadoah!"

Ootah shrieked an enraged defiance. His eyes sought the horizon.
_Kokoyah_, the sea god, was breathing deeply, and in the mists which
rose like fire-shot smoke before the sun, singular forms took shape.
Ootah saw the magnified shadows of great dogs. They seemed to be
dashing along the horizon. Then, with crushing strides, behind the
adumbration a great sled, a titan figure gathered substance in the
clouds. It moved with terrific speed; it dominated the sky. Its dress
was not that of the northern tribes. Ootah felt a resentful stirring,
as, looking upward, in the clouds overhead, a white face, hard, fierce,
scowling, with burning blue eyes, momentarily appeared.

"A white warrior from the south," Ootah murmured. "And he comes with
swift tread. What can it mean?"

In common with many primitive peoples, Ootah possessed the soul of a
poet--nature was vocal with him, and the disembodied beings of other
worlds made themselves manifest and spoke in the light and in the
clouds. To him everything lived; the clouds were the habitation of
spirits, the waves were alive, all the animals and fish possessed
souls; the very winds were endowed with sex functions and loved and
quarreled among themselves. The interrelation of man and the forces of
the universe were inseparably intimate and familiar; integral parts of
one another, their destinies were bound together. And to Ootah nature
found much to gossip about in the affairs of men.

Eagerly Ootah sought the clouds. Along the horizon they resolved
themselves into a phantasmagoria of Eskimo maidens and white men
resembling the Danes who came each summer to gather riches of ivories
and furs. And the Eskimo maidens and white men danced together. As
these mirage-forms melted, Ootah glanced into the water by his side.
Looking up from the ultramarine depths he saw something white. For an
instant it assumed the likeness of the face of Annadoah. He saw her
golden skin, her cheeks flushed with the pink of spring lichen
blossoms, her lips red as the mountain poppies of late summer. He
started back and called aloud:

"Annadoah! Annadoah!" For she had smiled, cruelly and disdainfully.
Hoarse laughter answered him--the laughter of white men from the south.
A flock of hawks passed over the water. He was about to shout when he
heard the sound of kayak paddles behind him. He recalled himself and
beckoned silence.




II

"_The thought of Annadoah in the embrace of the big blond man, of her
face pressed to his in the white men's strange kiss of abomination,
aroused in Ootah a sense of violation. . . . He heard Annadoah murmur
tenderly, 'Thou art a great man, thou art strong; thy arms hurt me, thy
hands make me ache.'_"


Slowly, with silent paddles, the hunters moved over the limpid waters
to the north of the floe. On the far side they saw a horde of walrus
bulls dozing in the sunlight. Behind a ridge of ice they landed,
drawing their kayaks after them. With skin lassos, harpoons and
floats, the party crouched low and crept toward the prey. Thus they
would be mistaken for other walrus by the unsuspecting animals. Ootah
was ahead. Softly they all muttered the magic formulas to prevent
themselves from being seen:

"_Nunavdlo sermitdlo-akorngakut-tamarnuga_!" In the rear, his eyes
evilly alight, Maisanguaq followed.

As they approached the herd they scattered. Along the edge of the floe
lay about twenty monstrous animals, steam rising from their nostrils as
they snorted in their slumber. There were a half dozen mother walrus
with half-grown young about them. Now and then they sleepily opened
their eyes and made low maternal noises.

Before the others realized what had happened, Ootah sprang toward a
bull and delivered his harpoon. It rose in the air and roared
deafeningly. Ootah struck a second time. The animal floundered in a
pool of blood, whipping the floe furiously with its huge tail.

With a thunderous roar all the others leaped with one glide into the
sea. The floe rocked, the water churned like a boiling cauldron. In a
few minutes Ootah had despatched the beast. Standing erect, he gazed
in defiance at the clouds, at the distant gulls. He forgot the omens,
and laughed with joy.

Not a moment was to be lost, however. Springing into their kayaks, the
Eskimos put to sea. Now the battle began in earnest. Attacking
enraged walrus in these frail skin boats is probably the most dangerous
form of hunting in the world. At any moment an infuriated animal is
liable to rise from the sea immediately beneath a kayak and upturn it.

Forming a semi-circle on the water about the swimming herd, the
fearless hunters sat in their tossing boats, each with one arm upraised
ready to strike, and with the other manipulating the paddle. Whenever
a whiskered head rose above the water one of the hunters let a harpoon
descend. After each attack they waited breathlessly.

Tateraq suddenly let his arm descend--his harpoon point struck home.
He shouted with joy--for he, too, sought Annadoah. Roaring with rage
the lanced sea-horse dived into the deep. The foaming water became red
with blood, and a few snorting, bellowing heads appeared. All about
glared enraged, fiery eyes. The animals plunged and tossed furiously
in the water--the savor of blood maddened them. They began a series of
attacks upon the kayaks.

Alive to their danger the men kept an alert watch. As they saw a
seething streak described on the surface of the water, as an animal
raged toward them, they would skillfully shift their positions. The
animal would rush snortingly by.

With dexterous movements of the paddle, Ootah playfully moved his kayak
among the herd, in one hand his harpoon ready to strike. A feverish
desire to make the greatest kill possessed him. Each time a hunter
made an attack he felt a pang of anxiety. Tense rivalry spurred the
young hunters.

In the midst of the battle Arnaluk struck a beast. Ootah summoned all
his skill, and dashed in succession after a number of appearing
heads--he forgot his danger. Before the others realized it, he had
killed two. Maisanguaq's harpoon went wild. He jealously watched
Ootah and struck without skill, carried away by chagrin and rage. Ere
made valiant attacks for he, too, thought of Annadoah, but the walrus
invariably went skimming from under his blows. Papik's harpoon glanced
the backs of half a dozen. Finally it landed. He shouted with glee.
The inflated floats attached to the harpoon lines bobbed crazily on the
surface of the ensanguined waters as the animals tossed in their death
struggles below.

Two white tusks appeared near Ootah's kayak. His arm cut the air--his
harpoon sped into the water--an enraged bellow followed. He withdrew
the handle, free of its line and the attached metal point--the point,
with the sinew, descended into the water. It had struck home.

Suddenly a cry went up. One of the natives waved his arms frantically.
A great monster had risen by his kayak and fastened one of its tusks in
the skin covering the boat from gunwale to gunwale. To strike it with
the harpoon meant that it would plunge and capsize the frail craft.
Crazy with excitement, the native began hissing and spitting in the
beast's face.

"Lift his head!" cried Ootah, paddling near. "Lift--_tugaq_!--lift his
tusk!"

"Lift his head!" echoed the others.

"_Aureti_! _Aureti_! Behave! Behave!" the panic stricken man
ludicrously shrieked at the animal.

Ootah paddled his kayak to the side of his companion's and, leaning
forward, with a quick movement, threw a lasso over the animal's nose
and under one tusk. With a terrific jerk of the body, he gave a
backward pull--the walrus rose on the water, the kayak was freed of the
tusk and slipped away. With a roar the animal sank into the sea. A
number now rose angrily about Ootah's kayak. They were bent upon a
combined assault.

Ootah warded off the attacking bulls on all sides with his harpoon.
The air trembled with infuriated calls, the animals were insane with
brute rage. The other natives, alarmed, paddled to a safe distance and
watched the unequal conflict. While Ootah manipulated his harpoons,
Maisanguaq, in the shelter of the floe, watched him with eager eyes.

He saw Ootah, with almost superhuman dexterity, striking constantly.
Repeatedly he had to renew the metal points on his weapon-handle. One
by one the animals gave up the attack and dispersed, until only an
obdurate bull remained. The battle between man and beast continued,
finally Ootah let the harpoon fly with full strength. It struck the
animal near the heart. Ootah uncoiled the free line attached to the
harpoon point quickly--and the walrus, weighing probably three thousand
pounds, plunged with the impetus of a bulk of iron into the sea. Then
a strange thing happened.

The pan-shaped drag, attached to the extreme end of the long line
securing the harpoon which Ootah had driven into the animal, became
entangled in the lashings on the forepart of Ootah's kayak. Leaning
forward, Ootah tried to disentangle it. He feared that the beast, in
its struggle, might drag all his weapons and paraphernalia into the
sea. He felt it tugging at the line while he unknotted the tangle.
While he was doing this Maisanguaq saw the beast rise to the surface of
the water not far from Ootah and describe a quick circle about his
kayak. Before he realized it, the leather line had wrapped itself
about his chest and under his arms. It took but a minute for the
animal to circle the boat--then it plunged. Maisanguaq saw Ootah
struggle to release himself; then he saw the kayak tilt as the hunter
was drawn, by the mighty impetus of the plunging sea-horse, into the
water. He heard Ootah's cry--saw the blood red waters seethe as they
closed over him. In a brief interval the kayak righted itself--it was
empty.

A murmur of dismay rose from the others. "The _tupilak_! the
_tupilak_!" Maisanguaq exultantly murmured, his eyes alight. "Happy
_angakoq_! Thou shalt have much of Ootah's meat!"

Over the spot where Ootah sank the sun flamed. The water seethed with
the threshing of the animals beneath the sea. Ootah's float finally
rose. The natives watched breathlessly for the reappearance of Ootah.
The float bobbed up and down as the animal's death struggles beneath
the water subsided.

Maisanguaq, looking at the floats which marked the dead animals, called
out:

"Ootah hath won Annadoah--hah-hah-hah! Hah! Ootah hath won Annadoah
only to lose her! We shall take Ootah's catch to Annadoah, but Ootah
sleeps. Ootah hath gone to taste the water in the country of the dead!
Hah-hah!"

At that moment Maisanguaq nearly fell from his kayak.

"Methinks thou wilt perhaps join the fishes first, friend Maisanguaq,"
a familiar voice laughed joyously behind him.

Maisanguaq's face became livid with dismay. Had the _angakoq_ failed?
And why?

Turning, he saw Ootah, not far away, clambering from the water onto the
floe. He was unscathed by the mishap--the water even had not
penetrated his skin garments. A joyous cry arose from the hunters as
they saw him running to and fro, working his arms to get up
circulation. Noting Maisanguaq's scowling face, Ootah twitted him:

"Laugh, friend Maisanguaq," he said, "for winter comes and then thy
teeth will chatter." Maisanguaq scowled deeply--Ootah's blithesome
remarks filled him with rancor.

"Peace, Maisanguaq. Methinks thou, too, lovest Annadoah," continued
Ootah kindly. "Therefor, I hear thee no spite! For who cannot love
Annadoah. _Ka--ka!_ Come--come!" Shaking the water from him, he bade
the others tow his kayak to the floe.

Ootah entered his kayak. The struggles of the walrus had subsided, and
only two skin floats bobbed feebly on top of the waves. The hunters
now strung series of kayaks together with strong leather ropes, three
skin boats being attached in a catamaran. Taking up the leather floats
one by one, to the rear kayak of each series the hunters fastened the
harpoon lines which secured the prey. Thus the animals were to be
towed slowly ashore.

Altogether eight walrus had been secured; four of these had fallen to
the skill of Ootah. Ootah sang for joy. Again he had achieved
distinction on the hunt, and so, with all the better chances of
success, he believed he might pursue his suit for the hand of Annadoah.
With powerful, steady strokes of their paddles the hunters, in their
processions of kayaks, towed the walrus through the sea shoreward.
They joined unrestrainedly in Ootah's hunting chant. Only Maisanguaq
was silent.

Now and then, unable to restrain his exuberant joy, Ootah sang his love
to the clouds, the waves, the winds.

"O winds, O happy winds, speed my message to Annadoah!" he called.
"Tell her that I return with the food of the sea! O spirits of the
air, breathe to her that Ootah's heart hungers for her as starving
_ahmingmah_ desire green grass in winter time. O happy, happy waters,
I return to Annadoah with food and fuel for winter--say Ootah
_meuilacto_--would wed--Annadoah. Tell her Ootah calls her
_Mamacadosa_!"

The others, although disappointed in being outwon, in spontaneous
recognition of his superior feat, chimed a chorus of congratulations.
Suddenly Maisanguaq gleefully pointed a significant finger to the sky.

"Pst!" he said.

A black guillemot, like an omen of evil, passed over Ootah's head.


By all the immemorial customs of their people, because of the
established pre-eminence of his prowess, Ootah should now find favor in
the eyes of Annadoah. Scarce seventeen summers had passed over
Annadoah's head and of wooers she had a score. The young hunters, not
only of her own tribe, but of others far south, sought her hand. The
fame of her beauty and skill had travelled far. None, it was said,
equalled her dexterity in plaiting sinew thread; none cut and sewed
garments as this maid with tender child's hands. She made weapons, she
brewed marvellous broths. Since the death of her mother she had served
the tribe with her skill. Yet, as the summers passed, she remained
carefree and to all suitors shook her head. "Become a great chief,"
she would say. "Win in the games, bring back the musk oxen, then
perhaps Annadoah will listen." Each summer the young men pursued the
hunt with the hope of becoming chief hunter among the tribesmen. But
for three summers Ootah had won signally above them all. To the remote
regions of their world the name of Ootah was whispered with awe. Ootah
carried off honors in the muscle-tapping and finger-pulling matches; he
out-distanced all rivals in kayak races on the sea; he left everyone
behind on perilous journeys to the inland mountains. Of every living
animal on land and sea he had killed, and in quantity of game he
excelled them all. Only of late had Annadoah listened with some degree
of favor to his pleadings. In the days of want he brought blubber to
her for fuel, and provided her with meat. And she was grateful.
Perhaps her heart stirred, but she feared the quiet passion of Ootah,
and by a perverse feminine instinct she resented a tenderness so gentle
that it seemed almost womanly. With winter approaching, and food
scarce, it was inevitable that Annadoah should wed. And now that Ootah
in the quest of the walrus had made the greatest kill, none doubted
that he should be chosen.

As the kayaks approached the village an unexpected sight greeted the
eyes of the hunters.

Along the shore, the women of the tribe and strange men were dancing.

Before the village tents they were gathered in groups. While the elder
women of the tribe beat a savage dance on membrane drums, the
chubby-bodied maidens, dressed in fur trousers, swayed in the arms of
the foreigners.

As the boats approached the shore, the natives recognized the visitors.
They were one of a half dozen parties of Danish traders who came north
yearly from Uppernavik to gather the results of the season's hunt.
Their visit meant an untold distribution of wealth among the tribe, for
they brought needles, knives, axes, guns, ammunition, and in return
secured a fortune in furs and ivory tusks. They also doled out tea,
biscuits, matches, tobacco, thread, and gaudy handkerchiefs beloved by
the women. Their coming had not been expected this season because of
the dearth of game.

The men in the boats shouted to one another joyously. Only Ootah felt
a heavy sinking at his heart. He saw the big blond-bearded men
chucking the little women under their chins. Their method of kissing
was strange and repugnant to him. Accustomed only to the chaste
touching of a maiden's face, the kiss of the white men he instinctively
regarded as unnameably unclean. He resented their freedom with the
women. But, children of the heart and brain, primitive, innocent, the
women did not understand the white men's strange behavior. And the
husbands, not comprehending, did not care. A gun, ammunition, a few
boxes of matches--these constituted wealth in value exceeding a wife.

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