Читать книгу In the Wake of the War Canoe - W. H. Collison - Страница 17

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"Wash the war paint from your faces,

Wash the blood stains from your fingers,

Bury your war clubs and your weapons,

Break the red stone from this quarry,

Mould and make it into Peace Pipes,

Take the reeds that grow beside you,

Deck them with your brightest feathers,

Smoke the calumet together,

And as brothers live henceforward."

Longfellow ("Song of Hiawatha").

The term "Nass" signifies the "Food Depot," whilst Nishka, properly "Nass-ka," indicates the "People of the Nass," or literally "Nass people." Strange to state, these terms, by which the Indian tribes of this river are known and by which they now even designate themselves, do not belong to their language but are derived from the Tlingit tongue. The early navigators, both Vancouver and Meares, anchored near to the Tongas, an encampment of the Tlingit Indians of south-eastern Alaska. From this point they despatched boats up the Nass Straits, marked on some maps as "Observatory Inlet," and on proceeding some distance up the river from its mouth they found themselves among the sand-bars formed by the river, from which point they returned without reaching the lower villages situated about twenty miles from the mouth. They were then compelled to accept the information given them by these Tlingit Indians by which the tribes on the river, as also the river itself, became known. In their own language, which is a dialect of the Tsimshean and has no affinity whatever with the Tlingit, they are known as the Giatkadeen, or the "People of all the Valley," meaning the lower valley through which the river flows; whereas the tribes on the upper river are known as the Giatwinikshilk and the Giatlakdamiksh, the "People of the Lizards" and the "People of the Pool." But if the Nass River is attractive because of its scenery, it is much more so on account of its productiveness.

For centuries the olachan fishing on the tidal waters of the river has attracted the Indians of the tribes from all quarters. From the interior, hundreds of miles distant, by the trail the Indians thronged thither carrying their effects on sleighs drawn by their dogs or by themselves, as they generally started early in the year while the snow was deep to reach the river in time for the fish, which usually arrive about the middle of the month of March. They brought with them also furs, the proceeds of their hunting expeditions, with which to pay the tribes resident on the river for the right to fish, and also for the use of their nets and for shelter in their fishing lodges during the season.

These furs were principally marmot and rabbit skins, generally sewn together to form rugs for bedcovers or robes. Martin, mink, and bear skins were also tendered and accepted. But not infrequently when pressed by famine, which was not unusual amongst the inland tribes, they handed over their young children in barter for food. These were in turn passed to the Haidas as part payment for their canoes, which were so necessary to the Indians in their hunting and fishing. I found a number of these enslaved amongst the Haidas, who had been sold in exchange for food when young. They had grown up in slavery, and knew nothing of their own people or of their own tongue. Under the teachings of Christianity the Haidas granted them their freedom. Some of them returned to their own people, but the majority preferred to remain where they had been brought up under the improved conditions. One fine young fellow, who had been thus sold as an infant, I succeeded in restoring to his mother and sisters in a Kitikshean camp in the interior. But they only gazed at him, and then his old mother exclaimed, "Naht! naht! naht!" bowing her head with each exclamation. They had nothing in common, and the knowledge that they had sold him did not tend to endear them to one another, so he soon deserted them again.

Before the coming of the white men if a delay occurred in the arrival of the fish in the river many of the Indians, especially of the older and weaker, died from scarcity of food. The coast Indians also from far up in Alaska and from the south came in large fleets of canoes to catch the olachan or to barter for the oil which is extracted from it, and upon which its chief value to the Indians belongs. For just as the Eskimo must have their whale blubber and seal oil, so these Indians find a suitable substitute in the olachan grease. Their dried salmon and halibut are eaten with this grease. The herring spawn and seaweed when boiled are mixed with a portion; and even the berries, crab-apples, and cranberries are mixed freely with the olachan grease when cooked and stored away for winter use. The olachan, because of its richness in oil, was formerly known as the "candle fish," as when partly dried the Indians used it as a torch by night. As already stated, the first shoal of fish arrive about the middle of March. I have witnessed them followed into the mouth of the river by hundreds of seals, porpoises, sea-lions, and finback whales, feasting both on the olachans and upon one another. So eager were they in the pursuit that the largest mammals almost grounded in the shallows, and when they discovered their position they struggled, fought, and bellowed in such a manner that they might have been heard for over two miles distant. None of our hunters would venture out in their canoes to attack them, so fierce was the fray.

The question has repeatedly been discussed by the Indians and others, how any of the fish survive to reach the spawning grounds, when their enemies are so numerous. The explanation is, we believe, that the shoals are not formed in the open ocean but rather in the mouths of the rivers, to which the fish make their way as the season approaches. Here they appear to swim around for a day or two till the shoal is formed, when they move onward to the spawning grounds. Prior to the arrival of the fish the river is a scene of desolation, especially if still frozen over. Not a sign of life can be seen, from the river to the mountain tops, but a continuous covering of snow. But with the arrival of the fish the scene changes. First there are the Indians in their boats or canoes, or with their dogs, hauling their sleighs along the ice to their various camps. Then the sea-gulls begin to arrive, first in flights of hundreds or more, but soon to increase to thousands and myriads, until they appear as snowflakes filling the air. They are usually accompanied by numbers of the white-headed eagle, which wings a higher flight, and circles round and round whilst the sea-gulls feast.

The Indians prefer to fish on the ice, as it is so much easier, and because they can use their dogs and sleighs to advantage. Each party or household proceeds to saw openings in the ice, which is usually from two to four feet in thickness. Two openings are necessary for each net, one about twenty feet in length by about one foot in breadth, through which the net is let down. This opening has a pole driven down at either end on which the mouth of the net is hung by rings made from withes of red cedar. These rings are pushed down by another pole with a crook on the end until the net rests on the bottom, when the mouth is kept open by a fixture for this purpose. As the net is long and purse-shaped, narrowing from the mouth, another opening is made in the ice at right angles from the first, about four feet by eight. Through this the narrow end of the net is hauled up with a stick shaped for this purpose, and as the smaller end of the purse of the net is open, but tied when let down, when drawn up the end is untied, and the fish thrown out on the ice or into the boat or canoe as the conditions may be. Should the ice have broken up and cleared out before the fishing opens, then all the work is done in their boats and canoes. Sometimes the fishermen are much troubled with drift ice, which comes down the river in great sheets, often carrying off their fishing-gear before they can ship it in their boats. Much of the fishing is done at night, as they must put down their nets with every falling tide; then hundreds of lanterns are seen flitting and flashing to and fro, which with the shouting and hammering produces quite a busy scene. During the day men and women and even the children are engaged with dogs and sleighs conveying the fish to the shore, where they are heaped up in square or oblong bins three or four feet in depth. Each household will thus have from five to ten tons of fish, and more, from which to extract the oil or grease after they have salted sufficient for future use, and also a quantity to be sun-dried or smoked. Formerly the grease was extracted from the fish by stones made red hot in large fires. These heated stones were cast into large boxes filled with fish and water, and the process was repeated until the grease floated freely on the surface, when it was skimmed off into chests made of red cedar. Now, however, the fish is boiled in large vats with sheet-iron bottoms. These are fixed on small fireplaces built of stone and mud, and the grease can be extracted with less labour and fuel and in a shorter time.

If only the Indians would extract the grease by boiling the fish while fresh, the grease would be as white and pure as lard, but instead of doing this they permit the fish to lie in the bins until they are putrid. This causes the oil to be rancid and discoloured, and unfit for wholesome food. It is sold in this state on the coast at two and a half dollars per tin of five gallons, but brings a much higher price in the interior. If manufactured from the fish when fresh, it would bring a higher figure.

Though the Indian fishermen land thousands of tons of this fish, yet the sea-gulls catch and consume a greater quantity. The Indians rather challenged this statement when I made it, but I convinced them of the truth of it in a practical manner. I called upon them to ascertain for themselves about how many fish a sea-gull devoured in a day. It was found that those sea-gulls which were shot at noon had swallowed six fish on an average, consequently it may be assumed that each bird would catch and consume as many more in the afternoon of each day. This would equal twelve fish on an average to each sea-gull, and on weighing this number of fresh fish it was found that they weighed just one pound. At this rate one hundred thousand sea-gulls would consume the same number of pounds of fish, or just fifty tons per day. This would equal fifteen hundred tons in a month of thirty days as April, when the fishing is in full operation. And if the sea-gulls make away with such a quantity, what shall we say of the seals with their greater capacity and opportunity, being in the same element? When the fresh fish become scarce, the Indians feast on both seals and sea-gulls, which are then in good condition, though savouring a little of the common dietary.

But this is not the only benefit derived by the Indian fisherman from the sea-gulls. I was not a little surprised, when I first encamped amongst them, to find many of them possessed of comfortable feather-beds and pillows. These I found were made from the feathers of the sea-gulls which they had killed for food, and from which they thus reap a double benefit. The sea-gulls move down to the ocean every evening, returning in the early morning to their feasting grounds. The Indians have a tradition that the birds moved away to a distant mountain to boil the fish which they had caught during the day, and to extract the grease. For several hours before dark every evening a long unbroken line, sometimes widening out to a quarter or even half a mile, may be seen winging their flight seaward, and even when too dark to discern them, they may still be heard calling and encouraging their companions in their seaward flight. It was no doubt principally in reference to this fishing that the Tlingit Indians named the river the Nass or Food Depot. For in addition to the olachan the Nass River abounds with salmon, several runs of different species resorting to it annually for spawning.

It can scarcely be wondered at that this fishing was a casus belli amongst the tribes during the past, when food was scarce and might was right. The Alaskan tribes, the Haidas, and the Tsimsheans all in turn fought to obtain the control of the fishing. But the Nishkas, occupying as they did the upper reaches of the river, were enabled to hold it against all intruders, whilst permitting the Tsimsheans, whom they recognised as their fellow-tribesmen, being of the same language, to retain their own fishing-camp on the lower waters of the river. The other tribes are content now to barter with the Tsimsheans and Nishkas for the fish-grease which they extract, and quite a market has been established by the outside demand for this much-esteemed article of food amongst the Indians of the north-west coast. The olachan is found also in other rivers of the British Columbian coast, but inferior in quantity and quality to those of the Nass.

In the history of mission work on the north-west coast it was early found that a camp where such numbers of Indians assembled offered special inducements and opportunities to the fisher of men. But the journeys to and from the fishery were not without danger, especially when they had to be made by canoes undermanned and overladen. And as the Mission had no place of residence then at any of the fishing encampments, the missionary had to rough it by living and sleeping in the fishing lodges, which were rough shelters constructed for the occasion of bark and split boards. In these the smoke was blinding, blown as it was by the wind in all directions, and when at length the inmates were compelled to seek respite and fresh air, the intense cold with the strong winds without, together with the dazzling whiteness of the snow, proved so trying to the eyes that it resulted often in a severe attack of ophthalmia. I found thus by experience that it was owing to these conditions that so many of the Indians were suffering from diseases of the eyes. Unable sometimes to clear away the frozen snow and ice, we erected our shelters on it, and in a day or two our fire had subsided two or three feet, leaving us seated around it on the icy hearth above. In such conditions the Indian dogs were to be envied, as they managed to find a cosy corner on a level with the fire. On these occasions I have often taken the precaution of folding up my bread and other provisions in such wraps as I could spare, and place all under my pillow, only to discover in the morning that they were frozen so hard as to defy cutting or consumption. I could but join with my Indian friends in their bursts of laughter at my disappointment and discomfiture. But it was good both for teacher and taught, as mutual trials excited mutual sympathy. And with the aid of my medicine-chest I was always enabled to alleviate their ailments, and was hailed as welcome at every camp I visited.

INDIAN WOMEN Engaged in stringing olachan fish on sticks for drying in the sun. They are protected by a rough awning from the cold wind. The background shows the River Nass—the headquarters of the olachan fishery.

OLACHAN CURING Those in the tanks are waiting to have their oil extracted. Those on the racks are drying in the sun. The olachan is sometimes known as the candle fish, on account of its oily nature.

Suffering from an attack of acute ophthalmia on one occasion, I was glad to avail myself of an opportunity to escape to our Mission at the mouth of the river to seek relief. It was blowing a gale and the river was full of drift ice, which rendered it dangerous for canoe travelling. But the Indians with whom I was about to embark had received a message informing them of the death of a friend, and stating that his body awaited interment. The circumstances appeared to warrant their adventure. With shortened sail we flew over the waves, all on the look-out for the ice, as we realised that to strike a block of ice when travelling at such speed would smash our frail craft, which was not even ribbed.

We had not proceeded many miles when we saw ahead of us an immense ice-floe blocking up the entire passage, which was several miles in width. As the cold was intense we shrunk from attempting to make the shore, which was also blocked with drift ice. All eyes were directed to seeking out an opening in the ice-floe, and at length it was resolved to try a point where the ice appeared to offer a passage. We pulled down our sail and every man grasped his paddle. We forced our way into the opening until we found the ice was closing in upon us, forced by the strong south-easter against the rising tide. Gradually the ice forced our canoe upwards until it was almost capsized. The ice was so broken up that no one could find a footing. So excited and terrified were they, that one woman permitted her baby to lie unheeded in the bottom of the canoe. When almost upset I inquired if they had an axe on board. Fortunately they had. I directed one of them to take it, and, standing in the bow, to break all the ice around it as small as possible. As he did so, I directed the others to push the canoe forward with all their strength. Gradually the canoe not only righted itself, but we were enabled to make some progress, and after a long struggle we succeeded in reaching open water on the sheltered side of the ice-floe. Not a word had been spoken during the crisis, but now every voice was heard in mutual congratulations. But as to my own feelings, physically, I seemed to have none. In my efforts I had forgotten my hands, which were completely numbed, and my fingers partly frost-bitten. Instantly urged by the Indians, I plunged my hands into the icy waters and then rubbed them with snow. This process restored circulation but the pain was intense. It saved my fingers, however, as I only lost the skin. The Indians of the encampment to which we were bound denounced our action in having embarked in such a gale, declaring that it was a wonder that we had succeeded in effecting a landing. A rest of some days restored my sight, and I was enabled to return to my labours.