Chapter 8

But about this time, many in the place fell sick. And among them was Navssârssuaq. The sickness killed him, and thus the avenging spirit was not able to tear him in pieces.

ARTUK, WHO DID ALL FORBIDDEN THINGS

A man whose name was Artuk had buried his wife, but refused to remain aloof from doings which those who have been busied with the dead are forbidden to share. He said he did not hold by such old customs.

Some of his fellow-villagers were at work cutting up frozen meat for food. After watching them for a while as they worked at the meat with their knives, he took a stone axe and hacked at the meat, saying:

"That is the way to cut up meat."

And this he did although it was forbidden.

And on the same day he went out on to the ice and took off his inner coat to shake it, and this he did although it was forbidden.

Also he went up on to an iceberg and drank water which the sun had melted there, knowing well that this was likewise forbidden.

And all these things he did in scorn of that which his fellows believed. For he said it was all lies.

But one day when he was starting out with his sledge, fear came upon him, and he dared not go alone. And as his son would not go with him willingly, he took him, and bound him to the uprights of the sledge, and carried him so.

He never returned alive.

Late in the evening, his daughter heard in the air the mocking laughter of two spirits. And she knew at once that they were laughing so that she might know how her father had been punished for his ill-doing.

On the following day, many sledges went out to search for Artuk. And they found him, far out on the ice, torn to pieces, as is the way with those whom the spirits have punished for refusing to observe the customs of their forefathers. And the son, who was bound to the sledge, had not been touched, but he had died of fright.

THE THUNDER SPIRITS

Two sisters, men say, were playing together, and their father could not bear to hear the noise they made, for he had but few children, and was thus not wont to hear any kind of noise. At last he began to scold them, and told them to go farther away with their playing.

When the girls grew up, and began to understand things, they desired to run away on account of their father's scolding. And at last they set out, taking with them only a little dogskin, and a piece of boot skin, and a fire stone. They went up into a high mountain to build themselves a house there.

Their father and mother made search for them in vain, for the girls kept hiding themselves; they had grown to be true mountain dwellers, keeping far from the places of men. Only the reindeer hunters saw them now and again, but the girls always refused to go back to their kin.

And when at last the time came when they must die of hunger, they turned into evil spirits, and became thunder.

When they shake their dried boot skin, then the gales come up, the south-westerly gales. And great fire is seen in the heavens whenever they strike their fire stone, and the rain pours down whenever they shed tears.

Their father held many spirit callings, hoping to make them return. But this he ceased to do when he found that they were dead.

But men say that after those girls had become spirits, they returned to the places of men, frightening many to death. They came first of all to their father and mother, because of the trouble they had made. The only one they did not kill was a woman bearing a child on her back. And they let her live, that she might tell how terrible they were. And tales are now told of how terrible they were.

When the thunder spirits come, even the earth itself is stricken with terror. And stones, even those which lie on level ground, and not on any slope at all, roll in fear towards men.

Thus the thunder comes with the south-westerly gales; there is a noise and crackling in the air, as of dry skins shaken, and the sky glows from time to time with the fire from their firestone. Great rocks, and everything which stands up high in the air, begin to glow.

When this happens, men use to take out a red dog, and cut its ear until the blood comes, and then lead the beast round about the house, letting the blood drip everywhere, for then the house will not take fire.

A red dog was the only thing they feared, those girls who were turned to thunder.

NERRIVIK

A bird once wished to marry a woman. He got himself a fine sealskin coat, and having weak eyes, made spectacles out of a walrus tusk, for he was greatly set upon looking as nice as possible. Then he set off, in the shape of a man, and coming to a village, took a wife, and brought her home.

Now he began to go out catching fish, which he called seal, and brought home to his wife.

Once it happened that he lost his spectacles, and his wife, seeing his bad eyes, burst out weeping, because he was so ugly.

But her husband only laughed. "Oho, so you saw my eyes? Hahaha!" And he put on his spectacles again.

Then her brothers, who longed for their sister, came out one day to visit her. And her husband being out hunting, they took her away with them. The husband was greatly distressed when he came home and found her gone, and thinking someone must have carried her off, he set out in pursuit. He swung his wings with mighty force, and raised a violent storm, for he was a great wizard.

When the storm came up, the boat began to take in water, and the wind grew fiercer, as he doubled the beating of his wings. The waves rose white with foam, and the boat was near turning over. And when those in the boat began to suspect that the woman was the cause of the storm, they took her up and cast her into the sea. She tried to grasp the side of the boat, but then her grandfather sprang up and cut off her hand.

And so she was drowned. But at the bottom of the sea, she became Nerrivik, the ruler over all the creatures in the sea. And when men catch no seal, then the wizards go down to Nerrivik. Having but one hand, she cannot comb her hair, and this they do for her, and she, by way of thanks, sends seal and other creatures forth to men.

That is the story of the ruler of the sea. And men call her Nerrivik [11] because she gives them food.

THE WIFE WHO LIED

Navaránâpaluk, men say, came of a tribe of man-eaters, but when she grew up, she was taken to wife by one of a tribe that did not eat men.

Once when she was going off on a visit to her own people, she put mittens on her feet instead of boots. And this she did in order to make it appear that her husband's people had dealt ill by her.

It was midwinter, and her kinsfolk pitied her greatly when they saw her come to them thus. And they agreed to make war against the tribe to which her husband belonged.

So they set out, and came to that village at a time when all the men were away, and only the women at home; these they took and slew, and only three escaped. One of them had covered herself with the skin which she was dressing when they came, the second had hidden herself in a box used for dog's meat, and the third had crept into a store shed.

When the men came home, they found all their womenfolk killed, and at once they thought of Navaránâpaluk, who had fled away. And they were the more angered, that the slayers had hoisted the bodies of the women on long poles, with the points stuck through them.

They fell to at once making ready for war against those enemies, and prepared arrows in great numbers. The three women who were left alive plaited sinew thread to fix the points of the arrows; and so eagerly did they work that at last no more flesh was left on their fingers, and the naked bone showed through.

When all things were ready, they set out, and coming up behind the houses of their enemies, they hid themselves among great rocks.

The slayers had kept watch since their return, believing that the avengers would not fail to come, and the women took turns at the watching.

And now it is said that one old woman among them had a strange dream. She dreamed that two creatures were fighting above her head. And when she told the others of this, they all agreed that the avengers must be near. They gathered together in one house to ask counsel of the spirits, and when the spirit calling had commenced, then suddenly a dog upon the roof of the house began to bark.

The men dashed out, but their enemies had already surrounded the house, and now set about to take their full revenge, shooting down every man with arrows. At last, when there were no more left, they chose themselves wives from among the widows, and bore them off to their own place.

But two of them took Navaránâpaluk and hurried off with her.

And she, thinking that both wished to have her to wife, cried out:

"Which is it to be? Which is it to be?"

The men laughed, and made no answer, but ran on with her.

Then suddenly they cut through both her arms with their knives. And soon she fell, and the blood went from her, and she died.

This fate they meted out to her because she lied.

KÂGSSAGSSUK, THE HOMELESS BOY WHO BECAME A STRONG MAN

One day, it is said, when the men and women in the place had gone to a spirit calling, the children were left behind, all in one big house, where they played, making a great noise.

A homeless boy named Kâgssagssuk was walking about alone outside, and it is said that he called to those who were playing inside the house, and said:

"You must not make so much noise, or the Great Fire will come."

The children, who would not believe him, went on with their noisy play, and at last the Great Fire appeared. Little Kâgssagssuk fled into the house, and cried:

"Lift me up. I must have my gloves, and they are up there!"

So they lifted him up to the drying frame under the roof.

And then they heard the Great Fire come hurrying into the house from without. He had a great live ribbon seal for a whip, and that whip had long claws. And then he began dragging the children out through the passage with his great whip, and each time he drew one out, that one was frizzled up. And at last there were no more. But before going away, the Great Fire reached up and touched with his finger a skin which was hanging on the drying frame.

As soon as the Great Fire had gone away, little Kâgssagssuk crawled down from the drying frame and went over to the people who were gathered in the wizard's house, and told them what had happened. But none believed what he said.

"You have killed them yourself," they declared.

"Very well, then," he said, "if you think so, try to make a noise yourselves, like the children did."

And now they began cooking blubber above the entrance to the house, and when the oil was boiling and bubbling as hard as it could, they began making a mighty noise. And true enough, up came the Great Fire outside.

But little Kâgssagssuk was not allowed to come into the house, and therefore he hid himself in the store shed. The Great Fire came into the house, and brought with it the live ribbon seal for a whip. They heard it coming in through the passage, and then they poured boiling oil over it, and his whip being thus destroyed, the Great Fire went away.

But from that time onward, all the people of the village were unkind to little Kâgssagssuk, and that although he had told the truth. Up to that time he had lived in the house of Umerdlugtoq, who was a great man, but now he was forced to stay outside always, and they would not let him come in. If he ventured to step in, though it were for no more than to dry his boots, Umerdlugtoq, that great man, would lift him up by the nostrils, and cast him over the high threshold again.

And little Kâgssagssuk had two grandmothers; the one of these beat him as often as she could, even if he only lay out in the passage. But his other grandmother took pity on him, because he was the son of her daughter, who had been a woman like herself, and therefore she dried his clothes for him.

When, once in a while, that unfortunate boy did come in, Umerdlugtoq's folk would give him some tough walrus hide to eat, wishing only to give him something which they knew was too tough for him. And when they did so, he would take a little piece of stone and put it between his teeth, to help him, and when he had finished, put it back in his breeches, where he always kept it. When he was hungry, he would sometimes eat of the dogs' leavings on the ground outside, finding there walrus hide which even the dogs refused to eat.

He slept among the dogs, and warmed himself up on the roof, in the warm air from the smoke hole. But whenever Umerdlugtoq saw him warming himself there, he would haul him down by the nostrils.

Thus a long time passed, and it had been dark in the winter, and was beginning to grow light near the coming of spring. And now little Kâgssagssuk began to go wandering about the country. Once when he was out, he met a big man, a giant, who was cutting up his catch, and on seeing him, Kâgssagssuk cried out in a loud voice:

"Ho, you man there, give me a piece of that meat!"

But although he shouted as loudly as he could, that giant could not hear him. At last a little sound reached the big man's ears, and then he said:

"Bring me luck, bring me luck!"

And he threw down a little piece of meat on the ground, believing it was one of the dead who thus asked.

But little Kâgssagssuk, who, young as he was, had already some helping spirits, made that little piece of meat to be a big piece, just as the dead can do, and ate as much as he could, and when he could eat no more, there was still so much left that he could hardly drag it away to hide it.

Some time after this, little Kâgssagssuk said to his mother's mother:

"I have by chance become possessed of much meat, and my thoughts will not leave it. I will therefore go out and look to it."

So he went off to the place where he had hidden it, and lo! it was not there. And he fell to weeping, and while he stood there weeping, the giant came up.

"What are you weeping for?"

"I cannot find the meat which I had hidden in a store-place here."

"Ho," said the giant, "I took that meat. I thought it had belonged to another one."

And then he said again: "Now let us play together." For he felt kindly towards that boy, and had pity on him.

And they two went off together. When they came to a big stone, the giant said: "Now let us push this stone." And they began pushing at the big stone until they twirled it round. At first, when little Kâgssagssuk tried, he simply fell backwards.

"Now once more. Make haste, make haste, once more. And there again, there is a bigger one."

And at last little Kâgssagssuk ceased to fall over backwards, and was able instead to move the stones and twirl them round. And each time he tried with a larger stone than before, and when he had succeeded with that, a larger one still. And so he kept on. And at last he could make even the biggest stones twirl round in the air, and the stone said "leu-leu-leu-leu" in the air.

Then said the giant at last, seeing that they were equal in strength:

"Now you have become a strong man. But since it was by my fault that you lost that piece of meat, I will by magic means cause bears to come down to your village. Three bears there will be, and they will come right down to the village."

Then little Kâgssagssuk went home, and having returned home, went up to warm himself as usual at the smoke hole. Then came the master of that house, as usual, and hauled him down by the nostrils. And afterwards, when he went to lie down among the dogs, his wicked grandmother beat him and them together, as was her custom. Altogether as if there were no strong man in the village at all.

But in the night, when all were asleep, he went down to one of the umiaks, which was frozen fast, and hauled it free.

Next morning when the men awoke, there was a great to-do.

"Hau! That umiak has been hauled out of the ice!"

"Hau! There must be a strong man among us!"

"Who can it be that is so strong?"

"Here is the mighty one, without a doubt," said Umerdlugtoq, pointing to little Kâgssagssuk. But this he said only in mockery.

And a little time after this, the people about the village began to call out that three bears were in sight--exactly as the giant had said. Kâgssagssuk was inside, drying his boots. And while all the others were shouting eagerly about the place, he said humbly:

"If only I could borrow a pair of indoor boots from some one."

And at last, as he could get no others, he was obliged to take his grandmother's boots and put them on.

Then he went out, and ran off over the hard-trodden snow outside the houses, treading with such force that it seemed as if the footmarks were made in soft snow. And thus he went off to meet the bears.

"Hau! Look at Kâgssagssuk. Did you ever see...."

"What is come to Kâgssagssuk; what can it be?"

Umerdlugtoq was greatly excited, and so astonished that his eyes would not leave the boy. But little Kâgssagssuk grasped the biggest of the bears--a mother with two half-grown cubs--grasped that bear with his naked fists, and wrung its neck, so that it fell down dead. Then he took those cubs by the back of the neck and hammered their skulls together until they too were dead.

Then little Kâgssagssuk went back homeward with the biggest bear over his shoulders, and one cub under each arm, as if they had been no more than hares. Thus he brought them up to the house, and skinned them; then he set about building a fireplace large enough to put a man in. For he was now going to cook bears' meat for his grandmother, on a big flat stone.

Umerdlugtoq, that great man, now made haste to get away, taking his wives with him.

And Kâgssagssuk took that old grandmother who was wont to beat him, and cast her on the fire, and she burned all up till only her stomach was left. His other grandmother was about to run away, but he held her back, and said:

"I shall now be kind to you, for you always used to dry my boots."

Now when Kâgssagssuk had made a meal of the bears' meat, he set off in chase of those who had fled away. Umerdlugtoq had halted upon the top of a high hill, just on the edge of a precipice, and had pitched their tent close to the edge.

Up came Kâgssagssuk behind him, caught him by the nostrils and held him out over the edge, and shook him so violently that his nostrils burst. And there stood Umerdlugtoq holding his nose. But Kâgssagssuk said to him:

"Do not fear; I am not going to kill you. For you never used to kill me."

And then little Kâgssagssuk went into the tent, and called out to him:

"Hi, come and look! I am in here with your wives!"

For in the old days, Umerdlugtoq had dared him even to look at them.

And having thus taken due vengeance, Kâgssagssuk went back to his village, and took vengeance there on all those who had ever ill-treated him. And some time after, he went away to the southward, and lived with the people there.

It is also told that he got himself a kayak there, and went out hunting with the other men. But being so strong, he soon became filled with the desire to be feared, and began catching hold of children and crushing them. And therefore his fellow-villagers harpooned him one day when he was out in his kayak.

All this we have heard tell of Kâgssagssuk.

QASIAGSSAQ, THE GREAT LIAR

Qasiagssaq, men say, was a great liar. His wife was called Qigdlugsuk. He could never sleep well at night, and being sleepless, he always woke his fellow-villagers when they were to go out hunting in the morning. But he never brought home anything himself.

One day when he had been out as usual in his kayak, without even sight of a seal, he said:

"It is no use my trying to be a hunter, for I never catch anything. I may as well make up some lie or other."

And at the same moment he noticed that one of his fellow-villagers was towing a big black seal over to an island, to land it there before going out for more. When that seal had been brought to land, Qasiagssaq rowed round behind the man, and stole it, and towed it back home.

His wife was looking out for him, going outside every now and then to look if he were in sight. And thus it was that coming out, she caught sight of a kayak coming in with something in tow. She shaded her eyes with both hands, one above the other, and looked through between them, gazing eagerly to try if she could make out who it was. The kayak with its seal in tow came rowing in, and she kept going out to look, and at last, when she came out as usual, she could see that it was really and truly Qasiagssaq, coming home with his catch in tow.

"Here is Qasiagssaq has made a catch," cried his fellow-villagers. And when he came in, they saw that he had a great black seal in tow, with deep black markings all over the body. And the tow-line was thick with trappings of the finest narwhal tusk.

"Where did you get that tow-line?" they asked.

"I have had it a long time," he answered, "but have never used it before to-day."

After they had hauled the seal to land, his wife cut out the belly part, and when that was done, she shared out so much blubber and meat to the others that there was hardly anything left for themselves. And then she set about cooking a meal, with a shoulder-blade for a lamp, and another for a pot. And every time a kayak came in, they told the newcomer that Qasiagssaq had got a big black seal.

At last there was but one kayak still out, and when that one came in, they told him the same thing: "Qasiagssaq has actually got a big seal."

But this last man said when they told him:

"I got a big black seal to-day, and hauled it up on an island. But when I went back to fetch it, it was gone."

The others said again:

"The tow-line which Qasiagssaq was using to-day was furnished with toggles of pure narwhal tusk."

Later in the evening, Qasiagssaq heard a voice calling in at the window:

"You, Qasiagssaq, I have come to ask if you will give back that tow-line."

Qasiagssaq sprang up and said:

"Here it is; you may take it back now."

But his wife, who was beside him, said:

"When Qasiagssaq does such things, one cannot but feel shame for him."

"Hrrrr!" said Qasiagssaq to his wife, as if to frighten her. And after that he went about as if nothing had happened.

One day when he was out in his kayak as usual, he said:

"What is the use of my being out here, I who never catch anything?"

And he rowed in towards land. When he reached the shore, he took off his breeches, and sat down on the ground, laying one knee across a stone. Then he took another stone to serve as a hammer, and with that he hammered both his knee-caps until they were altogether smashed.

And there he lay. He lay there for a long time, but at last he got up and went down to his kayak, and now he could only walk with little and painful steps. And when he came down to his kayak, he hammered and battered at that, until all the woodwork was broken to pieces. And then, getting into it, he piled up a lot of fragments of iceberg upon it, and even placed some inside his clothes, which were of ravens' skin. And so he rowed home.

But all this while two women had been standing watching him.

His wife was looking out for him as usual, shading her eyes with her hands, and when at last she caught sight of his kayak, and it came nearer, she could see that it was Qasiagssaq, rowing very slowly. And when then he reached the land, she said:

"What has happened to you now?"

"An iceberg calved."

And seeing her husband come home in such a case, his wife said to the others:

"An iceberg has calved right on top of Qasiagssaq, so that he barely escaped alive."

But when the women who had watched him came home, they said:

"We saw him to-day; he rowed in to land, and took off his breeches and hammered at his knee-caps with a stone; then he went down to his kayak and battered it to bits, and when that was done, he filled his kayak with ice, and even put ice inside his clothing."

But when his wife heard this, she said to him: