Читать книгу Anthropological Survey in Alaska - Aleš Hrdlička - Страница 12

The mission above Tanana is beautifully located on the elevated right Yukon bank, facing Nuklukhayet island and point, the latter, according to old reports, an old trading and meeting spot of the Kuchin tribes, and the confluence of the Tanana with the Yukon. The mission house, located on rising ground, the wooden church lower down, the cemetery a bit farther up, and the Indian village a bit farther downstream, with their colors and that of the luxuriant vegetation, form a picturesque cluster.

I am kindly received by Mr. Fullerton and his wife and given accommodation in their house. On the part of the good-sized Indian village everything is life and bustle and we soon are over. Motor launches owned and operated by the Indians in the river; dogs, scores of the big, half-wild, noisy sled dogs tied to stakes along the slope of the bank, fighting stray ones, barking in whole outbursts, feeding on smelly fish, or digging cooling holes into the bank in which they hide most of the body from the warm rays of the sun; and many Indians, about 400 in all, in whole families, in houses, large canvas tents, cooking, eating, visiting—a busy multitude, but with white man's clothes, utensils, etc., not nearly so interesting as a group of more primitive Indians would be.

Walk, visit, talk, and observe. Note many mix-bloods, especially among the younger ones and the children. Among the full bloods, many, about one-half, with features reminding more or less of Eskimoid; but a few typically Indian, i. e., like most of the States Indians.

Medium stature, substantial but not massive build, quite a few of the older women stout. Color of full bloods generally near medium brown, features regular Indian but not exaggerated, noses rather low especially in upper half, eyes and hair Indian. Epicanthus not excessive in children, absent in adults (traces in younger women), eyes not markedly oblique. Behavior, Indian.

The more pronounced Eskimoids have flatter and longer faces, more oblique eyes, and more marked epicanthus. They should come, it would seem, from Eskimo admixture. The Tanana Indians (Nenana) did not, so far as seen, show such physiognomies.

Toward evening, and especially after supper, natives sing and dance. Songs of Indian characteristics, and yet different from those in south; some more expressive. A song "for dead mother," very sad, affects some to crying aloud (a woman, a man). A wash song—a row of women and even some men imitating, standing in a row, the movements in washing, while others sing; humorous. A dance in a line, curving to a circle, of a more typical Indian character. Late at night, a war dance, with much supple contortion. Also other songs and dances up to 2.30 a. m.—heard in bed.

June 19. With dogs barking and whining and Indians singing, got little rest. All Indians sleep until afternoon. No chance of doing anything, so go down to town to get instruments and blanks. Find that storekeeper has an old stone ax—sells it to me for $1. Also tells of a farmer who has one—go there with the boat and obtain it as a gift; told of another one—a Finn—has two, sells them for $1. Come from the gravelly bank of the river or are dug out in gardening. There may well have been old settlements in this favorable location. After return, visit some tents to see sick. Much sickness—eyes, tuberculosis—now and then probably syphilis.

Indians relatively civilized, more than expected, and most speak tolerable English. Have flags, guns, sleep in some cases on iron beds and under mosquito netting, smoke cigarettes and cigars; and even play fiddles. Of course some have also learned the white man's cupidity and vices.

This day I met with something unexpected, due to perversity of mix-breed nature. Seeing so many Indians present, and after a good reception by them the evening preceding, I thought of utilizing the occasion for taking some measurements. I therefore mentioned the thing to some of the head men shortly after my arrival and receiving what seemed assent, went to-day to Tanana to get my instruments. On coming back and finding a few of the old men, who were quite friendly, I invited them into the "kashim" (community house) and began to question them on old sites, etc., when in came, probably somewhat under the influence of liquor, a mix-breed to whom I had been introduced the night before and who at that time acted quite civilly, but now coming forward began rather loudly and offensively to question about what I wanted here and about authority, giving me to understand at last quite plainly that he wanted to "be paid" if I was to take any measurements. He claimed to be one of the "chiefs," and I would not be allowed to do anything without his help. His harangue quite disturbed the other Indians, who evidently were both ashamed and afraid of the fellow. And as I would not be coerced into employing and paying him, and there being no one, as I learned, of supreme authority, the "chief" of these Indians being little more than a figurehead, it was decided to give up the attempt at measurements. The rest of the visit was therefore given to further observations and to the witnessing of the potlatch. Chief Joseph (pl. 14), nominally the head of these Yukon Indians, expressed his sorrow and tried to make amends by offering himself.

The potlatch was evidently in the main a social gathering of the Yukon Indians, with the Tanana natives as visitors. It consisted mainly of eating, singing, and dancing, to be terminated by a big "give-away." This latter was witnessed. It proved a disappointing and rather senseless affair. The whole transaction consists in the buying and gathering, and on this occasion giving away, of all sorts of objects, by some one, or several, who have lost a husband, wife, mother, etc., during the preceding year. The possessions of the deceased are included in this and doubtless often transmit disease. All the color of the observance is now gone. The goods—blankets, clothing, fabrics, guns, and many other objects, even pieces of furniture, trunks, or stoves—are gathered in the open and when the time comes are one after another selected by those dispensing and brought to this or that man or woman of those who have gathered around. No song, no ceremony, no talks, no thanking, no "wake" following. Just a poor shadow of something that formerly may have been a tragic, memorable, and meaning occasion.

Returned to Tanana near 10 p. m. and found lodging with a storekeeper who kept a "hotel." Got a big room, big bed, and when store closed was alone in the house, the storekeeper sleeping elsewhere.

June 20. But, Alaska was evidently not made for sleepers. Had not a wink until after 3 a. m.—daylight, people talking loud and walking on the board walk outside, and heard so clearly in my room—loud-laughing girls, the dogs, and at last another boat with its siren; and every now and then a singing mosquito trying to get at me through even the small opening left under the sheet for breathing—there being no netting. Finally doze off, to wake near 9 a. m., but everything closed, deadlike. However, go to a little frame house for breakfast, and in waiting until it is made find myself with two elderly men who go to-day down the river with their boats. One is a former store clerk, etc., and now an "optician"—peddles eyeglasses down the river; the other was a prospector, miner, and blacksmith, now an itinerant "jeweler" and a reputed "hootch" peddler. As the latter—otherwise a pretty good fellow—has a good-sized though old boat, arrange to go down with him. See the marshal, storekeeper, settle with my hotel man (had to go at 11 to awake him), and ready to start.

The outfit is largely homemade, not imposing, old, unpainted, and unfit for the rough—but it could be worse. It consists of a scow, a low, flat-bottomed boat, partly covered with canvas roof on birch hoops, in which Peake (the owner) carries fresh meat to some one, a stove, dishes, bedding, and many other things; and the motor boat proper, in which there is little room except for the machine and its tender. The latter sits on a soap box; I, on a seat extemporized from a cylindrical piece of firewood with a little board across it, with my two boxes and bedding within easy reach. Sit in front of the scow, except when driven back by spray. But our motor works and so we start quite well at some time after 11. The arrangement is to stop at every white man's camp or settlement down to Ruby. I could have gone on a better boat with its owner, but they charge here $15 a day, with "keep," and twice the amount for the return of the man and the boat, which is beyond my resources.

Tanana—Ruby. The river is clearer than the Tanana, and much broader. It is a great fine stream and its shores, while mostly still low on the left, on the right rise here and there into moderate loess bluffs, far beyond which are seen higher elevations and bluish forested mountains. All covered with poplar and spruce.

2.15 p. m. Wind has so increased that the scow bumps and squeaks and there is danger of opening its seams. Therefore side to the beach and make lunch—a roast of fat pork, over-salted, canned spinach, dry bread, and black coffee. All on a simple, old, but efficient little stove in the boat. Our companion, the oculist, rides not with us but in a nice little green canoe with a plaything of a gasoline motor fastened to the backboard, but we all eat and sleep together.

But a few small Indian camps seen, and no white man's house. Soon after lunch, however, approach "The Old Station," where there are a few Indian houses, and later a white man's place (Burchell's). Stop at the latter. Learn that we are 20 miles from Tanana and on a 5-mile-long channel. There are here 15 to 40 feet high loess-like (silt) bluffs with a flat on the top, which latter was from far back one of the most important sites of the Indians of these regions. Mr. Burchell and his partner kindly take me back, with their better boat, to the main old site. Many old graves there, a few still marked. Traces of dugouts (birch-bark lined), houses, caches, etc., from Burchell's place to old main site. Important place that deserves to be thoroughly excavated, though this will entail no little work. Site was of the choicest, dominant, healthy. Connects by a trail, still traceable, with the Koyukuk region.

There are said to be no traces of pottery in any of these parts. But average to very large stone axes are washed out occasionally from the banks, and other articles are dug out (long ivory spear, bone scraper, etc.). Promise of bones, etc., by Mr. Burchell.

One hundred miles more to Ruby. Near 8 p. m. start again—sun still high, little wind—endeavor to get to the "bone yard," a great bank bearing fossils. Fine clean scenery, flat on left, flat to elevated with grey-blue mountainous beyond on right. Water now calm and we make good progress. Very few camps—dogs on the beach, fish-drying racks a little farther, then a little log cabin and perhaps a tent, with somewhere near by in the river the inevitable fish wheel, turning slowly with the current.

Had supper at Burchell's; white fish, boiled potato, coffee, some canned greens.

Scenery in spots precious, virginal, flat at the river, elevated behind, foreground covered by the lighter green of poplars and birches, with upright, somber, dark spruce behind. Sun on the right, half moon on the left, and river like a big glassy lake, just rippling a little here and there. Cooler—need a coat. On right, getting gradually nearer the mountains.

Near 10 p. m. Sun still above horizon. On left a long (several miles), mostly wooded, but here and there denuded, palisade-like bank, apparently 200-400 feet high—the "graveyard."

Monday, June 21. Just at sunset last night—after 10 o'clock—came to the "bone yard" bank—a long curving line of loess bluffs 100 to 300 feet high, steep right to water's edge, riven by many ravines. Lowest third (approximately) light compact loess; then a thick layer of river sand (stratified more or less) and small gravel, then from one-third to nearly two-fifths of darker loess. In spots quite dark, frozen, but on surface melting, "running," also tumbling in smaller or larger masses. Wherever darker there emanates from it and spreads far out over the river a decided mummy-like smell. Too late to photograph from boat, and no other place available. Also impracticable to explore with any detail—would take several days and be a difficult work. The bluffs become gradually lower downstream. No bones seen from boat, but mostly were not near enough to discern. A remarkable formation, in many ways, and in need of masterly study as well as description.

Night on a low gravelly and pebbly beach. Many mosquitoes. Mosquito netting found bad—sides too short (gave directions, but they were disregarded) and mesh not small enough. In a short time impossible to stay under. Supplemented by old netting of Mr. Peake, who will sleep under his canvas in the boat; but the old dirty net has holes in it and the mosquitoes keep on coming through the two. Fighting them until some time after midnight, then under all my things—netting, blanket, clothes—find some rest, sleeping until 4.30 a. m. After that—full day, of course—sleep impossible. The "optician," who slept well under proper Alaska netting, gets up, wakes my man; we both get up, shake, roll up bedding, have a cat-wash, then breakfast, and at 6.30 off once more along the beautiful but not hospitable river.

Inquiry at a local white man's cabin about fossils and Indian things negative—has paid no attention, and fossil bones that he sometimes comes across generally not in good state of preservation.

Right bank now hilly, with greater hills and then mountains behind. Warm, river smooth, just a light breeze. How puny we are in all this greatness.

A lot of trouble develops with the engine to-day—bad pump. Will not get to Ruby until evening. Meat, on which I must sit occasionally, begins to smell, and there are numerous horseflies, probably attracted by the smell.

Four p. m. Visit Kokrines, on a high bank, native village, cemetery. Photograph some natives, are good natured, talk pidgin English. Clearly considerable old Eskimo admixture, but the substratum and main portion is Indian. All kind and cheerful here, glad to have pictures taken. Only white man is a "road-house" keeper; i. e., storekeeper. Store, however, poorly stocked, probably in all not over $200 worth of goods. "Optician," who is hoggish, has headache, but eats and drinks all he can nevertheless. "Jeweler" repaired his pump, and so we are once more on the way—35 miles more to Ruby. No trace of any relics at Kokrines.

River now a mile wide, with many "slews" (side channels, sloughs), and many low, flat, forested islands. Mountains to right, higher, traces of snow. Smoke wall from forest fire advancing from the west—now also smell. Islands beautiful, fresh colors and clean—light grass on border, then green and grayish poplars, birches, and alder, from among which rise the blackish green spruces. Little native fishing camps a mile or two apart, right bank—on left wilderness of flats, as usual.

A few miles above Ruby conditions change—high bluffs (rocky) now on left, flat on right side. Ruby, from a distance and after the loneliness of the day, looks quite a little town on the left bank, at the base of the higher ground.