CHAPTER XI
FOOD FROM THE SEA
The voyagers worked on steadily through the day, and three or fourhours before sundown they landed at Comox Spit, two or three milesfrom the village of Comox. All through the day numbers of hair-sealshad been seen diligently fishing in the shoal waters, and often an oldone was accompanied by her tiny young. There were hosts of water-fowlabout the shore,--ducks of several kinds, seagulls, guillemots, andauks; while along the beach ran oyster catchers, turnstones, and manyother shore birds. All these were picking a fat living there from thewater or from the gravelly beach at the water's edge. The larger fowlfed on fish and mollusks on the bottom; the lesser ones on the smallcrustaceans, which are abundant among the vegetable life near thebeach. At the end of the day the canoe passed through a great multitudeof ducks, which seemed to contain many thousands of birds. Near thesewere hundreds of great seagulls, sitting on the sand spits whichproject from the islands far out into the water. As the canoe movedtoward these great flocks of ducks, the noise of their rising, thewhistling rush of their wings and the pattering of their feet upon thewater made such a tumult as almost to drown ordinary conversation.
It was low water when they landed, and the boat's cargo had to becarried a long distance up to the meadow above the beach. After thishad been done, the fire kindled and the tent put up, Charlie calledto them: "Why don't you men try that mud flat for clams? You havea salmon to do to-night, but that won't last very long, and you hadbetter try to get some more fresh meat."
Arming themselves with sharpened sticks, they scattered out over themud flat, looking carefully for signs of clams, and before long werehard at work gathering them. Jack had dug clams in the East before, butthis was new business for Hugh; and it was fun for Jack to tell him howto look for the clams and how to unearth them when found. It took thembut a short time to gather over half a bushel of the bivalves, whichwere taken up to the camp and washed off and covered up.
Their dinner of salmon was greatly enjoyed. After dinner Jack andFannin, seeing some fish jumping out at the mouth of the river, pushedoff in the canoe and spent some time casting for them. But althoughthey tried almost all their most attractive flies, they did not get asingle rise, though the fish kept jumping all around them. While stilloccupied at this, the sun went down and before long the Indians beganto make an extraordinary disturbance about the camp fire--shouting,rushing about, stooping down, and then throwing up their hands. Whenthe two anglers reached the shore and inquired what had caused all theexcitement, Hugh picked up by the wing and held aloft a tiny mottledowl. The little bird had been hunting about over the flat, and,attracted by the light of the fire, had flown about it several times;and the Indians, excited by its near approach, had begun to throwstones at it. A well-aimed shot by Jimmie had brought down the bird,which Charlie suggested would do for the next day's dinner.
"We haven't got down quite to eating owls," said Jack, with a laugh.
"Well," said Hugh, "I've eaten owl a number of times, and it's not atall bad eating, though, of course, it depends a little bit on howhungry you are. I guess most everything that runs or flies is prettygood to eat, if one only has appetite enough. I have tried a whole lotof things, and I put owl down among the things that are real good."
"How did you come to eat owl, Hugh?" asked Jack. "And when was it?"
"It's a good many years ago," said Hugh, "that I started, late inDecember, south from the Platte River with Lute North, expecting toload up a wagon with buffalo meat at once. We didn't take much grubwith us as we meant to be gone only for a few days; and as buffalo hadbeen plenty in the country to which we were going, we thought we couldsoon load the wagon.
"We travelled three days without seeing a head of game, and thencrossed the Republican River and kept on south. In the river bottomwe killed a turkey, but all the four-footed game seemed to have leftthe country. After going south two days longer and finding no game,not even an old bull, we turned back, for provisions were getting low.We crossed the Republican again, but got stuck in the quicksands; andthe wagon sunk so low that the water came into the wagon box and wetour things, without doing much harm, however, for the sugar was theonly thing that was spoiled. The flour got wet, and left us only aboutenough for two or three more loaves of bread. But we had a little pieceof bacon left, so we had enough to carry us through. It took some hoursto get the wagon out; and that afternoon, after leaving the river, wesaw three old bulls feeding on the side of a ridge. At first Lute andI both intended to go after them; but as there was a better chance ofapproaching them if only one man went, and as Lute was a fine shot, Itold him to go ahead, and I waited in the wagon. He took a circuit andgot around the bulls so that the wind was right, then crept up behinda ridge until he was within a hundred yards, and fired--and the bullsran off over the hills. When Lute came back, and I asked him how hecame to miss them, he could give no explanation. 'I had as good a beadon that bull as I ever had on anything, and yet I missed him clean,' hesaid; 'shot clear over him.'
"We camped that night in a wide and deep ravine, and in the morningwhen we got up we found that we were covered with snow, which was twoor three feet deep, and which still kept falling. This was certainlya bad state of things. We lay in camp all day, only leaving it to tiethe horses up to some brush where they could get something to eat. Itstopped snowing that night, and the next morning we started out to tryto kill something, but had no luck. The snow was so deep in the ravinethat we could not travel there, but on the divide the wind had blown itall off. Lute saw a wolf, but could not get a shot at it. I had seennothing. We spent the rest of the evening trying to break a road out tothe divide, and at night we made our last loaf of bread and ate half ofit. It took us all the next day to get out to where the horses couldtravel, but we made some little distance, stopping at night and meltingsome snow for the horses, and for a cup of coffee apiece. Next morning,as we were hitching up, I saw a white owl hunting along the edge of theravine. The bird alighted about half a mile away, and I took my rifleand went out to try to kill it. I got to within seventy-five yards ofit, and then it saw me; so I fired, and it did not fly away. When I gothold of it I found that I had shot high, and that my ball had just cutthe top of its head. Half an inch higher, and I would have missed. Weate half the owl that morning, and the rest that night. The next nightwe crossed the Platte. When within four or five miles of town, justwhen we didn't need it, we killed a white-tail deer."
"Well," said Jack, "you must have been pretty hungry when you got it."
"Yes," said Hugh, "but it isn't very hard to go without eating. A manfeels pretty wolfish for the first twenty-four hours, but then hedoesn't get any hungrier. After that he begins to get weak; not veryfast, of course, but he can't do as much as he can when he's well fed.He can't walk as far or climb as hard. To go without water, though, isa very different thing. If a man can't drink, he suffers a great deal,and keeps getting worse all the time."
"Well," said Fannin, "in this country no man need suffer for want ofwater. These mountains are covered with it; it is running down themeverywhere. There is usually food too, though sometimes fish and game,and seaweed and fern roots fail, and then the Indians get hungry. Onething the Indians eat, which I never saw eaten anywhere before, andthat is the octopus or devil fish, as they're sometimes called. Itisn't bad eating, and the Indians think a great deal of it. They cutoff the arms and boil them, and then when the skin is peeled off, theyare perfectly white, looking almost like stalks of celery. The meat istender and quite good, though to tell the truth, it hasn't got muchflavor to it."
"You speak of fern roots, Mr. Fannin," said Jack, "I didn't know thatthey were ever eaten."
"Yes," replied Fannin. "They're gathered and roasted in time ofscarcity, and will support life for a time. The Indians here havequite a variety in the way of vegetable food in dulse, seaweed, andberries. They dry the berries of different kinds, making them intocakes when they're nearly dry, and using them as a
sort of bread inwinter. There's what is called the soap-berry, which they use as a sortof flavoring. The berries are dried and pressed into cakes. When theywant to use it, a portion of a cake is broken off, crumbled into finepieces and put into a bucket with a little water. Then a woman withbare arm begins to stir the mixture with her hand, and soon it becomesfrothy. The more she stirs it, the more it foams up; and as the volumeincreases, more water is added, until at last the vessel which containsit, and which may hold several gallons, is full of this foam. Thenthe Indians sit about it, and scraping up the foam on their fingers,draw them between their lips. The taste of the foam is sharply bitter,something like the inner bark of the red willow. I've always supposedthat these berries possessed some tonic quality like quinine. There aretwo or three kinds of seaweed that the Indians eat. One they boil, andit makes a dish a great deal like what we call 'greens.' The other isdried, pressed into cakes, and used later in soups. This seaweed seemsto be full of gelatine and thickens the soup. It is still the customin the villages which are far from the settlements, for young womento chew this seaweed fine before cooking it. It's necessary to makeit small before the boiling will soften it. The Indians who live nearthe settlement, however, chop up the vegetable with a knife, a pair ofscissors, or a tobacco cutter."
"Well," said Jack, "I guess we'll want to avoid any soup if we stop atany Indian villages."
"Well," said Fannin, "it might be a good idea to be on the lookout, butthey use this seaweed chiefly in the winter, so I don't think we needto be alarmed."
Camp was broken early next morning, and a start made soon afterdaylight. There was a long day of paddling. Camp was made shortlybefore sundown, and soon after supper was eaten all hands went to bed.
Of course, efforts were made to procure fresh meat, but no more salmonwere caught, nor any deer seen, though each day Fannin was lucky enoughto kill a few ducks with a shot-gun.
Each night as the time for camping approached, Mr. Fannin and theIndians would be on the watch for a good landing-place. This had to becarefully chosen on account of the danger of scratching the bottom ofthe boat or striking it sharply on some rock or pebble, which mightresult in accident and cause several days' detention, or possibly evena serious calamity.
When a landing was made, it was the first duty of the party to unloadthe canoe, and then to drag it up on the beach, safe above reach ofthe waves. As has been stated, the prow of the canoe was turned awayfrom the shore, and she was backed toward some place where the sand wassmooth and free from stones, or else where the pebbles were smoothlyspread out, and as nearly as possible of the same size. The approach tothe shore was slow and made carefully, and the paddles of those in thestern were thrust, handles down, against the beach, to ease the shockof her touching. Then the steersman leaped overboard, and lifted anddrew the canoe as far up the beach as he could. The others disembarkedand helped to lift her still farther on to the beach. Then her loadwas taken out, and carried up above high-water mark. After the wholeload had been transported to the spot selected for the camp, every one,except the cook, who at once busied himself with preparations for themeal, returned to the water's edge. The loose boards in the bottom ofthe canoe--put there to protect the bottom from the careless droppingof some heavy article, or from a too heavy footfall--were taken outand placed on the beach, so as to form a smooth roadway for the canoeto slide on, and she was then dragged well up above high-water mark.The Indians went into the forest to cut poles and pins for the tent,which was soon set up, and the beds made. Before dinner was ready, thecamp was in complete order. Sometimes it happened that no satisfactorylanding-place could be made, and then it was impossible to get thecanoe out of the water on the rocks or the narrow beach where theywere obliged to camp. In such cases the Indians, after they had eaten,would re-embark, take the canoe out some distance from the shore andanchor it there, and spend the night in the vessel. Next morning allthe operations of unloading the canoe were reversed. While breakfastwas being cooked the blankets were rolled up, the tent torn down, andeverything but the mess kit and the provision boxes carried down to thecanoe. After breakfast, and while the dishes were being washed, thecanoe was loaded, the last thing put aboard being the mess kit and theprovision boxes.
About noon the next day, upon rounding a point of land, some low houseswere seen in a little bay, and Fannin, after speaking to the Indians,said to the others: "Here's the village of the Cape Mudge Indians. Hadwe not better stop here and see if we can't buy some dried salmon? Wehave got to have some provisions, unless you hunters can do better."
When they paddled up to the village they found that it consisted oflarge houses made of "shakes," somewhat like the Indian village thatthey had seen near Nanaimo. In front of several of the houses stoodpoles, from forty to sixty feet high and curiously carved. One suchpole, not yet erected, and in process of being carved, bore on one endthe head of a large bird, which by some stretch of imagination mightbe taken for that of an eagle. The Indians seen here, though littleresembling the Indians Jack and Hugh were familiar with on the plains,were at least clad like Indians, that is to say, in breech-cloutand blanket. Physically they bore little resemblance to the moresymmetrical horse Indians of the plains, for, though their bodiesseemed large and well developed, their legs were small and shrunken.
The party's stay here was short, but they succeeded in purchasing afew salmon and then pushed off again. Just outside of the village wasa burial place of considerable size, in which were many small houses.The bodies of the dead were deposited in the small board houses, thoughthose of poorer people were said to be placed in old canoes, which werethen covered with boards. In front or at the side of each house stooda number of small poles, ten or twelve feet high, which indicated thenumber of potlatches or great feasts that the dead man had given, eachpole standing for a potlatch. Fastened to stouter and larger poles weresmall profiles of canoes carved out of thin boards, which showed howmany canoes the dead man had given away during his life. Over some ofthe houses stood large crosses, eight or ten feet high and covered withwhite cloth.
"You see," said Fannin, "a good many Indians along the coast here aresupposed to be Christians, though it is pretty hard to tell just howmuch the Indians understand of what the missionaries tell them, andjust how far their lives are influenced by their teachings. No matterhow good Christians these Indians who are buried here may have been,every one of them has been fitted out by his relations with a canoefor use in the land of the future, for they can conceive of no countrywhere there is no water, nor of any means of getting about except in acanoe."
That night after dinner as they were seated about the fire, Hugh andFannin pulling at their pipes, Charlie smoking a cigarette, and theIndians--who that night slept aboard the canoe--singing one of theirplaintive songs, Jack asked Mr. Fannin to explain the meaning of theword "potlatch," which he had used earlier during the day.
"Well," said Fannin, "potlatch is a word of the Chinook jargon, andmeans to give, or a gift, according to the connection in which it isused. As we've been paddling along you've heard the Indians say,'Potlatch tsook,' which means 'give water.' In other words, they wanta drink. The great ambition of every Indian in this country is to getproperty in such quantity that he can give a big feast, call all thepeople together, sometimes one village, sometimes all the villages ofthe tribe, and then hand around presents to everybody. It is in thisway, according to their estimation, that they become chiefs or men ofimportance. Wealth, in fact, seems to constitute a standard of rankamong them, and the man who gives away the most is the biggest chief.Later, he receives the reward of his generosity, for at subsequentpotlatches, given by other people, he receives a gift proportionateto the amount of his own potlatch. When, therefore, an Indian hasaccumulated money enough, he is likely to buy a great lot of food,crackers, tea, sugar, molasses, and flour, as well as calico andblankets. Then he proceeds to invite all his friends, up and down thecoast, to a potlatch. The feast consists mainly of boiled deer meat andsalmon and oolichan oil, with the other
food I have just mentioned.Every guest has all the crackers he can eat. Perhaps there is a smallcanoe full of molasses. Each guest receives so many yards of calico,a part of the blankets are distributed among the visitors, and theremainder are scrambled for among the young men, the donor perhapsgetting on top of a house and throwing the blankets down into the crowdbelow. The feasting and the giving may last for a week; and when theaffair is over the guests go their several ways, leaving the giver ofthe potlatch a poor man. When the next potlatch takes place, however,he recovers a portion of his wealth, and after a few more have beengiven, he is better off than ever. Sometimes at these feasts canoes aregiven away, and even guns and ammunition; and the greater the gift,the more is due the giver when those who have received gifts from himthemselves give potlatches."
"Well," said Jack, "that's a queer custom and a queer way of thinking.It seems, in certain ways, though, a good deal like the orders thatwere given in the Bible, to take all you have and give it to the poor.But I suppose as a matter of fact, instead of giving it to the poor,these men who give these potlatches try to give to the rich instead, sothat they may receive their gifts back again."
"Well," said Hugh, "you will find among Indians everywhere, that onemaking a gift to another, or a contribution for any purpose, expects toreceive it back again. If a man should die before he had paid back thegift, his relations are required to make it up."
"I guess Indians are alike everywhere," said Fannin. "Queer people,queer people."
"Well," said Hugh, "that's just exactly what the Indians say about us:'the white people are queer.'"