At the same time, they could
protect the schooner from depredations by other wandering natives.
So they came, bag and baggage, babies, dogs, and all, and at once set
to work constructing snug habitations, in which, with plenty of food
and plenty of seal oil, they could live happily and comfortably during
the long winter months. These structures were neither large nor
elegant. In fact they were only hovels sunk half underground, with low
stone walls, supporting roofs of whale ribs, covered thick with earth.
A little later they would be buried beneath warm, shapeless mounds of
snow. To most of them outside light and air could only be admitted
through the low doorways, but one, more pretentious than the others,
was provided with an old window sash, in which the place of missing
panes was filled by dried intestines tightly stretched. In every hovel
a stone lamp filled with seal oil burned night and day, furnishing
light, warmth, and the heat for melting ice into drinking water,
boiling tea, drying wet mittens, and doing the family cooking.
Cabot and White were immensely interested in watching the construction
of these primitive Labrador homes. They were also amazed at the
readiness with which the natives made themselves snugly safe and
comfortable, in a place where they had despaired of keeping alive.
Besides watching the Eskimo prepare for the winter and picking up many
words of their language, Cabot took daily lessons in snowshoeing and
the management of dog teams, in both of which arts White was already an
adept.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175