XXIStrong Men, Warriors, Slaves

“STRONG MEN.” — The word “eˊrmečɪn” was mentioned in the previous chapter as designating the master of the camp. It signifies literally “the strongest one,” and is used with several other meanings, which are of course more or less closely related. These are “the strong man,” “the warrior,” “the influential man,” “the violent man,” “the robber.” The Chukchee are conscious of the difference between the meanings of the word. For instance, a quotation from the tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons,” given in the preceding chapter,¹ contains a pun founded on this difference of meaning. The Eskimo host says, “This is probably the well-known Reindeer Chukchee eˊrmečɪn” (meaning warrior). Eleˊndi answers, “Not I. Only you are the real eˊrmečɪn (meaning violent man), because by violence you so taught your neighbors that they do not dare to eat in your presence.” But if this quotation shows a marked difference between the two meanings of the word, another quotation from the latter part of the same tale, on the contrary, points out the common element of all these notions, — warlike strength. “Oh, oh!” says the father, after his young son has made a very successful shot, “then I have created a future violent man, a robber of the herds of all other people, a warrior I have created. I am a good man.”

In the original text the word “eˊrmečɪn” was used in all three cases. War and warriors belong to the past life of the Chukchee tribe. Therefore they are described only in tales and other narratives of the same character. In modern life, by “eˊrmečɪn” is meant, first of all, a man of great physical strength, daring temper, and adventurous disposition. Men with such qualities may be met among the Chukchee, both Reindeer and Maritime. Such, for instance, was one of my Kolyma acquaintances, Tŭmg̣änêˊntɪ by name. He was of Maritime origin, but lived among the Reindeer people from early youth. Tŭmg̣änêˊntɪ was a man of tall stature and athletic build, and experienced in all kinds of sports, wrestling, running, racing with reindeer. When I met him, he was about forty, and more or less quiet; but his previous life had been quite eventful. Being of Maritime origin he has visited most of the Arctic villages, and quite a number of camps on the route between East Cape and the Kolyma River. He tried to be a trader; but he squandered most of his wares, and had to give up his attempts. Two or three times he was the owner of a large herd, but each time it was gone again after a year or two. He was much given to drink; and when drunk, his temper was quite dangerous. Thus he was said to have killed on different occasions[640]🗗uncollated three men in drunken brawls or in more serious quarrels. He had also quarrels with Russian creoles, and occasionally gave many of his Russian friends a good thrashing. The Cossacks, after one of these quarrels, in their turn, gave him such a solid thrashing, that he was near unto death, and only his strong constitution enabled him to survive it. Last, but not least, he changed wives several times, and, notwithstanding his forty years, had much success among young women and girls, and was welcomed as a group-marriage companion by many Chukchee matrons between the Kolyma and the Wolverene River.

Of the same type were two brothers, Čêpaˊt and Qančiuˊ, from the so-called Kavraˊlɪn traders.¹ It has been related before that the Kavraˊlɪn traders are of Maritime origin, but have reindeer of their own, and travel all their lives between the Maritime villages and the Reindeer camps, carrying seal-skins and thongs, beaver-skins and marten-skins, and also American rifles, knives, etc., and exchanging them for fawn-skins and ready-made clothes of reindeer-skin, also for Russian brick-tea and leaf-tobacco. I have met the two brothers several times at the yearly Anui fair. Both were men of tall stature and of considerable physical strength. Čêpaˊt was said to have killed several men. Qančiuˊ, on the other hand, had lost one eye in a scuffle, and bore deep scars on his breast, the results of old knife-wounds. The brothers were widely known among the Reindeer camps of the Anui country, also among the Russian traders and Cossacks. They came usually with abundant means for purchases, but a good part of their property was spent in buying brandy. They themselves drank and treated others to drink. Čêpaˊt was the cause of the brawl mentioned before,² which took place in 1895.

The chief officer of the Kolyma did not go that spring to the Anui fair. Instead, his assistant went, a man quite new to the country, who did not know the methods of Chukchee trading. He brought with him some Cossacks from Sredne-Kolymsk, who were but little acquainted with the Chukchee, and gave them strict orders, first of all, to stop the sale of strong liquors. This would have been quite praiseworthy; but, at the same time, almost all traders, men and even women, and among others the commanders of the Cossacks,³ brought a quantity of liquor for sale to the natives. It was labelled as “destined for private use.” The assistant officer then ordered the Cossacks to take away all brandy seen in the hands of the Chukchee. On the next day, after the order was given, Čêpaˊt, who had been drinking in the morning, came into the Russian fort and met a group of Cossacks. Then he took out from his bosom a bottle of alcohol, showed it to the Cossacks, and said tauntingly,[641]🗗uncollated “There, you Cossacks, come and take it from me.” One of the commanders of the Cossacks came, and suddenly wrenched the bottle from Čêpaˊt’s hand. Then he spilled the contents on the snow. Now, to spill brandy on the ground is considered in those countries perhaps worse than to spill blood. Čêpaˊt grew angry and gave the offender a box on the ear, which sent him spinning to the ground. A scuffle ensued. Čêpaˊt was arrested, and another Chukchee was killed by the Cossacks. I saw Čêpaˊt being dragged by several Cossacks to the block-house which was to serve as a temporary prison. He had blood on his face, but his spirits were quite undaunted. One of the Cossacks (the “private commander” of Sredne-Kolymsk) drew his revolver and pointed it at the prisoner’s breast. He said, “I will kill you this instant, you dog!” — “Do it!” retorted Čêpaˊt in his usual tone. “I am not afraid, and you are a bad one.” All the natives were expelled from the fort, and the gate was closed; but a number of Chukchee came to the fence, headed by Qančiuˊ, Čêpaˊt’s brother. Very soon the Russians saw that it was necessary to free Čêpaˊt. Some of them invited him to make excuses to the commander of the Cossacks for the blow, but he flatly refused to do so. “You are all bad,” he said quite openly, “Leave me alone.” Then he jostled away the nearest Cossack, and was gone.

These men were of Maritime origin, but the Chukchee who was killed in the scuffle was a Reindeer man. He was from the Chaun River, had some influence over his neighbors, but even by them he was called “bad.” The day before his death he came to the fort and boldly tried to rob a Russian creole of some iron knives and spear-heads. This was prevented, but he was left unmolested. The next morning he was first to take part in the brawl after the arrest of Čêpaˊt. Then the Russians, in their turn, saw their chance, took advantage of it, and he was killed.

Akɪmluˊkê, from the Wolverene River, was also a reindeer-breeder of the eˊrmečɪn type. He was good at all kinds of sport, quick-tempered, dexterous, and none of his neighbors cared to pick a quarrel with him. The influence of a Reindeer Chukchee eˊrmečɪn among the neighboring camps, however, is of a rather indefinite kind, because each camp lives its own independent life, and has little to do with any of the others.

In the Maritime villages, where the people live in closer contact, the influence of an eˊrmečɪn is more real. When passing with our dogs through the Chukchee village Valkaˊʟ̣ên, we wanted to rest our teams, and therefore made a stay of two days. One of the inhabitants, Čaˊnla by name, made our acquaintance, and offered to sell us a large bag of seal-blubber, with which to season the food of our dogs. Being Russians and considered as “rich,” we had to buy the larger part of the food for our dogs. The poorer men usually get it from their hosts without pay. Moreover, we fed our dogs better than the Chukchee usually do, and therefore were in need of a larger[642]🗗uncollated quantity of food. We paid for food with compressed tea and leaf-tobacco in very moderate proportion, as is usually done in such cases. Čaˊnla, however, wanted no tea or tobacco. He wanted to buy the leader of one of our dog-teams, a white female, uncommonly large, whose name was Arrow. Russian dogs are highly valued among the Maritime Chukchee. In payment for the dog, he offered a beaver-skin, two fox-skins, and this bag of blubber. The peltries were not as yet in his possession; but he intended to acquire them in the course of the summer from the Alaskan Eskimo traders, and promised to deliver them on our return journey in a couple of months or so. The owner of the dog, who was one of my Cossacks, refused to sell it on credit. Then Čaˊnla, offended at this lack of confidence in him, took back his bag and returned to his home. Shortly afterward it appeared that we could not buy any other food in that village. “Čaˊnla is the eˊrmečɪn,” explained the inhabitants, “and he says ‘no traffic!’” So our dogs had but a scanty meal, given by the master of the house we stopped in. In the end we had to yield; and the dog was handed over to Čaˊnla, who, by the way, in due time faithfully delivered the promised peltries.

We took the bag with blubber, and also a quantity of walrus-meat from the other inhabitants, and everything was smoothed over. When I asked some of the people afterwards whether the word of Čaˊnla was really of such weight with them, they answered, “He is our neighbor and a great wrestler.” Čaˊnla was not yet thirty. He was tall of stature and strongly built. He wore breeches adorned all over with red tassels,¹ and held himself always ready for a wrestling-match. The house we stopped in was the “front house;” and the master of it was richer than Čaˊnla, though the influence of Čaˊnla seemed to be greater among the inhabitants. I should mention, however, that in the Maritime villages, as a usual thing, the strongest man is also the richest, because, on account of his physical resources, he is more successful in hunting than others. Moreover, the front-house family is generally the strongest and the richest, and its head plays the eˊrmečɪn among the other people. From this also sprang the maritime term for the front house, aˊrmačɪ-raˊn (“the house of the strongest”). Among the Reindeer Chukchee, wealth in reindeer does not depend so much on physical strength, and there are cases where the “strongest man” is also the poorest, as will be shown presently.

“VIOLENT MEN.” — In the sense of “violent man,” “robber,” the term “eˊrmečɪn” is used as much by the Reindeer Chukchee as by the Maritime; but as to the social position of the “violent men,” I would call attention to a very interesting difference between both branches of the tribe.

The most prominent among the “violent men” of the Reindeer Chukchee is the poor assistant, who uses his physical advantages as means of violence against the “front” family of the same camp. I will relate a very characteristic[643]🗗uncollated story, which happened in the Chaun country in the year 1894, and was told to me by a man who knew the participants. I give it in his own words: —

“A reindeer-breeder lived in a lone camp in the middle of the tundra. He had an assistant in the camp. This man, Amonaiˊhɪn by name, had a wife with a very active tongue. He was a great eˊrmečɪn, but a poor herdsman, too lazy to run around the herd. Therefore the master almost stopped slaughtering reindeer for him. In reality, the master said to himself, ‘This one is quite worthless.’ Moreover, Amonaiˊhɪn did not like to listen to remonstrances, and the master felt uncomfortable about telling him anything. Then Amonaiˊhɪn’s wife began to reproach him. ‘We suffer from hunger, living with such a wealthy reindeer-breeder. We are just on the verge of dying a shameful death. I say, I should have him killed.’ At first the husband would not listen. At last, however, he paid attention to these words. Then he followed the master to the reindeer-herd. They remained together with the herd. There was a hill there. The assistant said, ‘Let us climb the hill and look around for better pasture.’ — ‘All right,’ said the master. They climbed the hill. The master walked in front, and the assistant a little behind. Amonaiˊhɪn caught the master from behind. He had a knife ready in his sleeve. With this knife he cut open his master’s abdomen. Then he loosened his grip; and the wounded master tried to run, but fell to the ground. Amonaiˊhɪn left him there, still alive, and went home. The night passed. Not until morning did he say to his wife, ‘Well, I have finished with my quarry. Now it is your turn to do something with yours.’ The wife said, ‘Ugh, do it all!’ — ‘Nay, but your plain words were, “Let every one of us have a quarry of his own.”’ The woman sighed. ‘Then let it be so!’ She sharpened her knife, and hid it in her sleeve. Then she went to the front house. The woman of the front house, who was a girl, was making fire. She stabbed her from behind, but could not kill her, the girl being a shaman. Therefore the murderess cut all the ligaments on her arms and legs. The girl became bereft of all power of motion. Her little brother, who still wore a combination-suit, tried to flee. The murderess ran after him and stabbed him. Then she broke the front house, cut to pieces all the poles and sledges, and made of this wood a large pile, adding some branches of bushes. After that she put the two bodies on the pile, and they were burned. Amonaiˊhɪn appropriated the herd. “The air was quite motionless, as is often the case in spring. The smoke rose upward in a long column, and was seen from afar. The Maritime traders travelling with dogs happened to pass by just at this time, and saw the smoke. So they turned in to see, and beheld the pile. Amonaiˊhɪn felt uneasy. He could not even deny anything. ‘Well, well, such a thing has happened here. Maybe I shall also slay both of you. Truly, you would not be able to hold your peace, would you?’ — ‘Oh, yes! we should.’ They began to make bows to him quite low, as to a great officer. ‘We shall keep quiet. Only give us some provisions.’ They spent a night there. All the time they talked in this way. The next morning he slaughtered reindeer and gave them as much as their dogs could carry. When they came home, they caused a great sensation with their tale. The next year the kinsmen of the slain man found the murderer and slew him. His wife and his son were left untouched. The woman’s name is Tñe-čeiˊvuñe.”¹

In another case of a similar kind, the assistant, with the aid of his cousin, killed the master of the camp. Then he staid with the family of the slain man and slaughtered reindeer for his own use. For a long time the murderer slaughtered their reindeer, until the family became quite poor, and finally lost their entire herd. Then he left them and went elsewhere.²

The folk-stories also contain similar cases. Most characteristic is one described in the tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons:” —

“The Eskimo slave whom Eleˊndi made his assistant in the camp at last perfidiously succeeded[644]🗗uncollated in leaving his master on a lone island in the open sea. Then he came back and took possession of all his wealth. He ceased to be a good assistant, and spoke with his old harsh voice. “He remained in the sleeping-room the whole time, and defecated there in a chamber-vessel. The wives of the master refused to live with him; they did not enter the sleeping-room, but staid on the beach, weeping. The next morning the slave said to the boys who went to the herd, ‘Bring me tomorrow a young fawn that has recently shed its coat. My excrement has a bad odor from this old, tainted meat. From now on I will feed only on reindeer-tongues.’ They thought, ‘He is going to kill us,’ so they brought the fawn. “The children wept every day in the herd. Each time when they brought a fawn, they asked one another, ‘Will he chastise us, or not? Perhaps we have grown stronger by this time.’ “Eleˊndi was miraculously saved by birds, and came to the camp. He met one of his wives in the open, and said to her, ‘Go and say to the boys, “The next time when that one asks for a fawn, give for answer, ‘You slave! Where have you gotten the habit of eating fawns and of feeding on tongues?’”’ Hearing this, the Eskimo roared with anger. He bounded out from the inner room quite naked. The woman said to him, ‘At least put on your breeches!’ He put on his breeches. Then he caught the handle of a scraper and pursued the boys. But Eleˊndi suddenly sprang upon him, caught him from behind, and shortly afterwards made him die a cruel death.”¹

I know of no cases in actual life among the Maritime Chukchee, similar to those described above, and occurring among the Reindeer people. It seems that, on the whole, the Maritime Chukchee, though more daring in character, are of a more peaceful disposition than the Reindeer-breeders. “Nothing ever happens among us,” the people in the Chukchee and Eskimo maritime villages told me, “though we have no officers. At times of drinking, some of those who do not drink act like your police, and quiet down those who become aggressive, even binding them if necessary.” Among the Maritime people I have even met men who refused to drink brandy; while among the Reindeer-breeders such a thing is almost unknown, even among the women, with the exception of those in the most remote parts of the country, on the border-line of Kamchatka, where no brandy has ever been sold. On the whole, the Reindeer Chukchee drink less than the Maritime Chukchee, because brandy is more scarce with them; but drunken brawls happen among them much more frequently.

In the folk-stories of Maritime provenience, however, “violent men” appear quite often; and, in contrast to the Reindeer stories, the violent man is, for the most part, the richest man of the village, the front-house master. He is successful in his hunt, and has plenty of provisions; but he refuses to give food to his poor neighbors, and this is the chief violence he does to them. Moreover, he beats them, turns them out of his house, and in every way and manner shows them his superiority and brutal contempt. The Eskimo of the Eleˊndi tale is described as such a character.

In another tale, a “violent man” of the village is described as a very strong man. He goes to sea in a skin boat and kills walrus by the dozen. Then he ties them all behind his boat and paddles home, towing them along. When he comes near to the beach, he throws the end of a rope to[645]🗗uncollated the other people who are standing there, and roars, “Draw me up with the game!” If they are too slow, he chastises them afterwards. In a number of tales the owner of the front house is described as strong and violent; and the people of the rear house, as little old men, poor, but mild-tempered and hospitable. Among the occupants of the front house and the rear houses there exists a kind of estrangement, nearly a silent quarrel, which seems to the narrator to be something quite natural, understood per se. The second part of the story almost always contains the coming of some young hero, who vanquishes and chastises the “violent man,” takes for himself the best of the peltries and hides, and leaves the rest to the poor neighbors. Thus, in the tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons,” the victorious warrior severely chastises the vanquished front-house master, and then says, “Now, who has a grudge against him?” Every one comes forward. All kick him, because they are angry at him (even a mouse may have anger). Then the guest says, “Well, well, help me to arrange for my departure. You may take this house, with all its wealth, but the object of my request bring here instantly.” They bring twenty large hides and twenty coils of thong. These he carries to his sledge.¹

In the Maritime folk-stories a “violent man” of poorer standing appears less frequently. He is strong but “lazy,” and, instead of going himself to hunt, prefers to rob his neighbors of their game. One of these has two wives and only one big dog. When his neighbors go to the floe-ice to inspect their seal-nets, he waits on the shore; then, on their return, he takes from them one or two seals.

I do not see how a thing like that could have really happened, unless in a very small village, where the hunters are so few that they cannot resist the assaults of one violent man. The tale, however, proceeds to describe how the neighbors, annoyed by the tribute, kill the “violent one.” In course of time his little boy grows up and takes revenge on the murderers.

WARS AND WARRIORS. — As already stated, the word “eˊrmečɪn” is also used in the sense of “warrior.” Tales about past wars are numerous among the Chukchee, and form, to a certain degree, a separate division of folk-stories, which is called äqälileˊtkɪn pɪˊñɪltê (“[from those who led] war tidings”). Wars are described as a series of surprises, nightly attacks, and murders of the sleeping. In some cases, on the contrary, the attacking party openly defies the enemy, and invites them to come in equal numbers, so that both sides may be in an equal position. Thus, in the tale of “Taˊlo the Taˊn˙ñɪn Nursling,” the hero meets ten Taˊn˙ñɪt, covered with armor, and kills nine of them with his small whalebone knife. The tenth tries to flee, but Taˊlo catches him by the back of his clothing. “Stay a while! I do not want to kill you, I want to ask you a question: How many people in your houses are fit for fighting?” — “None. There are only old men and youngsters.” — “When will[646]🗗uncollated these youngsters become warriors? Shall I come next year?” — “All right, come next year. Meanwhile they will grow and become stronger, some at least.” The episode is repeated in other tales. I must mention also that the Chukchee are described as less perfidious, and as dealing more frankly with their enemies, than the other tribes; so that it would seem that treachery at least is not considered as one of the virtues of war.

I was told that all kinds of incantations were used in war, but none have been preserved in the memory of the people. A tern (Tringa Temmincki) was considered to be a sentinel of the Chukchee tribe (čiˊčɪn, “looking one”), because, on the approach of the enemy, it would fly up with a warning cry. Therefore a party of warriors, when stopping for a night on the open tundra, would apply to that bird, and ask it to guard them against a sudden attack.

A battle is a series of single fights. To be fit for fighting, every warrior undergoes hard training, and spends all his leisure in various exercises. The tales abound in descriptions of such exercises. The hero must run for long distances, drawing heavily-loaded sledges. He carries stones and timber, jumps up in the air, but, above all, he fences with his long spear. He performs this exercise quite alone; and the chief feature of it is the brandishing of the spear with the utmost force, so that it bends like a piece of raw reindeer leg-skin. He also practises shooting with the bow, and uses for this purpose various arrows, sharp and blunt. From all these exercises he acquires great skill and agility. He can kill twenty men, darting from one to the other with the swiftness of an ermine. When he is shot at, he avoids the arrows by springing to one side, or parries them all with the butt-end of his spear, or simply catches them between the fingers and throws them back. Only when quite exhausted from the fatigue of fighting, can he be wounded and vanquished.

The best warriors of other tribes — for instance, of the Yukaghir — are described in corresponding tales as catching arrows between the fingers, and as avoiding the blows of the spear by the quickness of their motions. The Chukchee ideal warrior is so skilled in jumping that he is almost able to fly in the air with the birds. When paddling in a kayak, he keeps pace with a flying gull. His build is athletic. When lying on his back, he touches the ground only with his neck, buttocks, and heels, so thick and heavy are his muscles. A number of Chukchee warriors are described individually. The details of these descriptions will be given later on.

Taˊn˙ñɪn Wars. — Tales of wars may be divided into two unequal groups. The larger group refers to the wars of the Reindeer Chukchee with Taˊn˙ñɪt. These wars took place in the interior of the territory, and the Maritime people took little part in them. The smaller group refers to wars on the sea-coast between the Chukchee and the Eskimo. Several interesting stories belong to the first group, and some are even epic in character. The whole may perhaps be considered as an embryo of a Reindeer Chukchee epos.

The Taˊn˙ñɪt of these stories are either the Russian Cossacks, or more frequently, the Reindeer Koryak. The Reindeer Chukchee were obliged to defend themselves against the invasion of the Cossacks, and even succeeded in defeating Major Pavlutsky and his troops.¹ Still the remembrance of this war is not so strong as might be expected; and the tales relating to it are mostly short, and poor in details. Those that relate to Koryak wars, on the contrary, abound in vivid episodes. Some of the tales relating to the wars with the Russians represent simply the stories of the Koryak war-cycle, changed and adapted to a new use. The details relating to the arms and the ways of the new enemy are inserted; but the Chukchee heroes are described in the same manner, and even their names are unchanged.

War Heroes. — I have already mentioned that in war-stories a number of warriors figure who are described individually. Their names are quite popular, and appear in various combinations.² All these belong to the Koryak war-cycle. The most remarkable thing is, that one of them is mentioned as the chief and leader. His name is Lauˊtɪ-lɪwaˊlɪn, which means “head-nodder.” This name is given to him because he gives the signal for attack by a nod of his head. It is curious to know that this explanation is half-forgotten. Sometimes I received the answer that the name of Head-Nodder sprang from the habit of nodding his head while moving with reindeer over the rough ground of the tundra. The wars with Taˊn˙ñɪt evidently tended to develop the office of a military chief, though the ordinary conditions of Chukchee life are too simple for such an institution. The development did not proceed very far; and as soon as the wars ceased, it vanished, and even the significance of the name was forgotten.

Head-Nodder is described as one who gathers warriors for an expedition. His voice is thick and strong. When the women of a Taˊn˙ñɪn fortress besieged by Chukchee hear his voice, they speedily kill their own children, and the young girls kill themselves. His companions are Eᵋleˊnnut and Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn. The latter name means “the clamoring one,” and even now is frequently met with among the Chukchee. Eᵋleˊnnut is described as the assistant of Head-Nodder. “Who will be my (in-the)-armpit-being-little-bird [čêˊčhɪ-vaˊlɪn pĭčêˊ-kalhɪn]?” (i. e., “who will be my assistant?”) asks Head-Nodder; and Eᵋleˊnnut answers, “I will be thy in-the-armpit-being-little bird.” After that, they rush to the assault, shoulder to shoulder.

In another story, “Who shall begin?” asks the little old man. “Let me be first,” says Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn. Head-Nodder nodded. “Yes, let it be you.” — “No, no!” exclaimed Eᵋleˊnnut, “let me do it! I am also quite a sharp point of the antlers of Head-Nodder. Let them break it first. Head-Nodder’s antlers are full-sized.”

In still another story, Eᵋleˊnnut is described with the following details. “Eᵋleˊnnut has long arms: they hang down lower than the knee. His fists are like large round bowls made of the excrescences of a larch-tree. His hands are stronger than iron. Eᵋleˊnnut is higher by a head than all other people. His shoulders loom up in the middle of a throng, visible from afar, like the shoulders of the wild reindeer-buck in a Chukchee reindeer-herd. He runs in bounds over the deep snow, throwing up his legs. His track over the snow is not double, but forms only one line. He eats with great haste, gulping down piece after piece. All food is slippery for his throat. After battle he is found in the sleeping-room. He is lying there with a young woman. His legs are protruding from under the front part of the cover of the room. Only the trembling of his hind part is to be seen.” Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn, the Clamoring-One, is described as springing forward and clamoring for battle. To the same group of warriors belongs young Čɪˊmkɪl. He is of modest disposition. “There are four strong men,” says the story, — “Head-Nodder, Eᵋleˊnnut, Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn, and Čɪˊmkɪl. In front of Čɪˊmkɪl sits his father. The strong man silently waits till the old man speaks his words.”

Of other warriors should be mentioned Nankačhaˊt, — “a big, heavy man, clad throughout in the hide of a thong-seal. The head of his spear is a cubit long. In the time of drifting ice on the Omvaˊan River, he lies down across the river and stops the ice. The drifting floes are stopped, his body forms a bridge, and the caravans of reindeer-sledges pass over him as on firm ground.” These exaggerated details surpass the usual style of Chukchee description.

In another tale he drives his spear into the bottom of the river. The moving ice is stopped. The ice forms a temporary bridge, over which pass the Chukchee caravans. The latter version comes nearer to the usual style of the stories.

In still another tale appears the strong man Aᵋttɪmlu or Aᵋmluᵋ, which means “bony face.” He is called so because his face is quite hard. The arrows of the Taˊn˙ñɪt cannot hurt it. Eᵋleˊnnut lives with him as a companion in group-marriage.

“Bony-Face quarrelled with Head-Nodder, and slapped him on the head with his open hand. From this slap the other suffered throughout the summer. After that the offended one wanted to have revenge. He exercised for two consecutive years, in order to equal Bony-Face in strength. Then he called his brother and went to visit the offender. His brother’s name was Yɪrkɪtowaˊʟaᵋn; i.e., ‘having soft buttocks.’ Bony-Face proposed to pay them for the offence; first two thong-seal skins, then two beaver-skins; but they refused. Then all four went out of the house. Eᵋleˊnnut sat down upon a sledge as an onlooker. Bony-Face turned up his sleeves. The two adversaries caught him from both sides. ‘What! both of you?’ — ‘Yes, both of us.’ — ‘Ah, all right!’ He caught them both by the nape of the neck and pushed them together face to face, then threw them upon the ground. The snow was covered with blood, as from a reindeer newly slaughtered. Then he turned away and entered his house again.”

The story breaks off at this episode. It is probably only a fragment of a fuller tale. The name Bony-Face is well known among story-tellers. They say that he was one of the strongest warriors; but all tales in which his name is mentioned are only short fragments. It is interesting to note that this tale represents Head-Nodder as no great hero, and even gives him a brother with the ridiculous name of Soft-Buttocks. The last name is formed perhaps in contrast to the hard cheeks of Bony-Face. Bony-Face vanquished them without difficulty at one time or another. Perhaps these tales are the reminiscences of some ancient local rivalries, or else an attempt at parody of the old traditions. In the parallel case of the Russian epic legends of ancient warriors, these have given rise to the formation of certain parodies, which are also quite ancient.

Temeˊereč, or, in diminutive form, Temeereˊčeqäi, is a young man light of foot and quick of motion. His parents were killed by Taˊn˙ñɪt, and he was left a little orphan.

“One time the Taˊn˙ñɪt made inroads on the Chukchee territory. The people fled, driving with reindeer. The little boy was walking ahead. The first driver overtook him. ‘Take me with you!’ — ‘Let the rear drivers take you.’ The rear drivers overtook him. ‘Take me with you!’ — ‘Let the last ones take you.’ Then the very last one came to him. ‘Take me with you!’ — ‘No, let them that are behind take you! — ‘Ah me! There is no one behind.’¹ “The last man went away, and the boy was left alone. He followed the tracks of the drivers. A small boy he was, but a clever one. He carried in his hands a child’s bow and one arrow with a copper head. The line of the pursuing Taˊn˙ñɪt was approaching from behind, the strongest warrior was far ahead. The boy looked back and thought, ‘What shall I do?’ He ran and fell down, jumped up and ran again. The Taˊn˙ñɪn warrior saw him running and jumped down from the sledge. Then he took off his armor and put it on the sledge, and also the spear. The spear was a very strong one. The handle was thicker than a man’s arm. He ran, leading the reindeer by the bridle. The boy thought, ‘This one will crush me with his nail as he would a little louse.’ He looked back again. The Taˊn˙ñɪn warrior was getting nearer. In a few moments he would overtake him. The fur shirt of the Taˊn˙ñɪn was very short: it hardly covered his abdomen. The boy shot his bow and wounded him in the abdomen. The warrior sat down upon the snow. ‘Stop, boy!’ said the warrior. ‘Come here!’ The boy was afraid to come. The Taˊn˙ñɪn stood up, took the spear from the sledge, and put it on the ground. He also took off his armor and put it down. ‘Come here! I will not hurt you. It is for your benefit.’ Then the boy came. ‘There, take the bow and spear and armor. Put on all of it, take the sledge, and drive on. Do not be afraid of our people. They will find my body and turn back, because I am the strongest.’² “After that the boy came home and lived with his uncle. He was growing fast, and all the time performing exercises. One time when the people arranged a reindeer-race, the young hero offered to draw his uncle’s sledge, acting in place of a reindeer-buck. He prepared the sledge and attached the traces and put on the breast-collar. Then he said to his uncle, ‘Put the bridle on me!’ — ‘No need of it,’ said the uncle. ‘Go along!’ He rushed forward. ‘Wait, wait!’ cried his uncle. ‘The sledge jolts too much.’ He put the bridle on the young man and took the reins. ‘Now everything is all right.’ “The trail was quite crooked. He said, ‘Let us go straight ahead!’ There was no trail. The snow was knee-deep; but he ran on as if there were no snow.

“Then they came to the place where the race was to be held, and he outran all the drivers and took the prize. Afterwards, when fighting he used the bow and the arrow as he did in his boyhood. He shot all at once, and killed his adversary.”

Another hero, Êˊɪrg̣ɪn, is also described as a young archer, light of foot and quick at shooting. Near the entrance of a narrow passage between the mountains, young Êˊɪrg̣ɪn is standing. He is drinking water from a wooden bowl. He sees a Cossack warrior clad in full armor coming to him. “Drink your fill,” says the Cossack. “That is your last drink on earth.” The Cossack brandishes his spear. Êˊɪrg̣ɪn takes his bow, and puts on the string a small arrow of whalebone. The face of the Cossack is covered all over with iron, only two holes are left for the eyes. He shoots and hits him in the right eye through the hole of the visor. The Cossack falls down and is taken prisoner.

Other warriors are also mentioned, but they do not play an important rôle. Those whose names han been given are known in various parts of the Chukchee territory. I met families who claim descent from one or the other of these ancient heroes. “We count nine generations (sometimes eight, rarely less than that) from such and such a one,” is the usual expression. “We trace our lineage.” And the families with such a lineage claim a certain superiority over others, though by the other people these pretensions are but little heeded.

The Taˊn˙ñɪt of these tales are, as stated before, Reindeer Koryak. They are always described as very rich in reindeer, considerably more so than the Chukchee. They have certain fortresses (wuiˊwun, pl. wuiˊwut, a term used at present for single block-houses, and also villages of the Russians and Russianized natives, composed of such block-houses). It is not easy to understand what kind of fortresses these wuiˊwut may have been. The details of the description are insufficient to form any judgment. For instance: “Then the Taˊn˙ñɪt shut themselves up in the wuiˊwun. They broke down another wuiˊ-wun, and covered the walls of the first with its wood. On the roof, near the vent-hole, is a second story. The best archers stand there and shoot downwards on the assailants.” Perhaps it is simply the underground house of the Maritime Koryak,¹ with the wooden storm-roof around the vent-hole. Such houses are quite suitable for use as strongholds. The Russian accounts of the wars with the Koryak, in the first half of the eighteenth century, mention quite frequently small fortresses in which the Koryak used to defend themselves, and which were taken by the Russians. The same may be said of the Kamchadal. All such fortresses, however, belong to the Maritime people.

According to an oral communication of Mr. Jochelson, among the Maritime Koryak traditions still exist concerning the invasions and assaults of the Reindeer Chukchee. The Maritime Koryak had fortified villages. Such villages were placed on high cliffs, on narrow promontories and points of land, or on[651]🗗uncollated lone islands not far from the shore. Access was shut off by a stone wall or by wooden palisades. The Reindeer Koryak also prepared fortified places at points similar to those mentioned. The herd was gathered together and pent up in a corral made of sledges, or it was driven away to far-off pastures. The people remained in a chosen place behind the bulwark, ready to hold out.¹ Some of the Kamchadal villages were also surrounded by bulwarks of stones or earth. On ancient village sites in northwestern Kamchatka I have still found the remnants of such bulwarks. They were in the form of a large quadrangle, with an entrance from the sea-side. Chukchee stories referring to the wars with the Cossacks also mention such fortified strongholds, built by the Chukchee. One story mentions that the Reindeer Chukchee fled from the Cossacks to a very remote place, and took up their position under a cliff. The Cossacks came and climbed the cliffs; then, pushing down heavy stones, they broke up the fort and exterminated the people. Some other people made a fort in the land Neˊten, near Cape Peˊek. They built it under an overhanging cliff, so that it was impossible to roll stones down upon it. In this fort they defended themselves with success against the Cossacks.

Cossack Wars. — The Cossacks, as related before, are also called Taˊn˙ñɪt. The adjective mêˊlhɪ (“fire-tool”)² is added but rarely. Among the Anadyr people the name qaˊčak (“cossack”) is also used. Qačauˊmêl (“cossack-like”) means also “badly, cruelly.”

One tale mentions the first impression of the coming of the Cossacks: —

“When they first, came, our people were very much afraid of them, because they were of quite unknown appearance. Their whiskers stood out like those of the walrus. Their spear-heads were a cubit long, and so broad that they obscured the sun. Their eyes were of iron, round and black. All their clothing was of iron. They dug the ground with the butt-ends of their spears, like angry reindeer-bucks, inviting our warriors to single combat.”

According to the Chukchee tales, the Russians treated the natives most cruelly, they exterminated the people, and murdered all prisoners; with their axes they cleft the men in twain, striking them between the legs; and they tore the women in two like dried fish. They would put a prisoner in a sitting position. Then they would put a rope around his neck, and the other end of this rope they would tie to his membrum virile. After that they would poke him in the face with a bar of red-hot iron. The man would bound up, and his membrum virile would be torn away.

The Chukchee fled from the Cossacks in all directions. Then they came to a stand. Resistance was organized, which led to a successful repulsion of the invaders.

Some of the tales describe the Russians with a manifest intention of derision.

“There was a small girl Yɪˊnkɪ-ñeˊut by name. Some people had gathered in a tent to perform a thanksgiving ceremonial. They darkened the vent-hole, and began to sing. Still they were not men, but dogs. Some sang, ‘Koo, koo, koo!’ Others howled, ‘Koon, koon, koon!’¹ Then the house mistress said to the girl, ‘Look there! Who are those singers? Why have they closed the entrance and darkened the vent-hole?’ The girl found a crevice, and peeped through it. They were all dogs. The Chukchee people came hastily and gave them blows. The dogs fled to the west and became Russian people. Some of them, however, remained dogs, and were used by the others for driving. Those that were beaten got angry at the blows and began a war. O dear! we did not know. Our people chastized the dogs, and they became a people.”²

A story like this, of course, could be found only among the reindeer-breeders, in opposition to the Russian dog-drivers.

Almost all tales mention the name of Yäkuˊnnin, the chief of the Cossacks. This name is given to Major Pavlutsky.³ Its origin could not be ascertained. It is allied to the Russian name Яковъ, pronounced Yakov (“James”); but the first name of Pavlutsky was Theodore, not James. Yäkuˊnnin is described as strong and tall, clad in glistening iron, shining white like a large white gull (Larus argentatus). He stands before a crowd of Chukchee in full armor, springs up as high as the highest tree, and brandishes his spear. He has a step-son, or an adopted son, from the reindeer-breeding people, either Koryak or Chukchee, — a good warrior, who aids Yäkuˊnnin in many ways. The defeat of Yäkuˊnnin is preceded by the misadventure of his assistant. In some versions the adopted son of Yäkuˊnnin, who is called Young Yäkuˊnnin, is taken prisoner and killed. In other versions, when taken a prisoner, he consents to commit treason, and brings Chukchee scouts to the Russian camp. In still other stories he gives information which makes it possible for the Chukchee to lay hold of the provisions of the Russians. Some of the details correspond in a certain degree to the real facts. Pavlutsky and his Cossacks, as well as many other Cossack expeditions, had an auxiliary detachment of Tungus, Chuvantzy, and even Koryak, driving reindeer and conveying food. They took part in the campaign half against their wills, and afterwards broke out in open mutiny, or simply left the Cossacks at an opportune moment. In the detachment of Pavlutsky there was even some quarreling among the Cossacks of local birth and the infantry that he brought along from Yakutsk.[653]🗗uncollated Local Russian tradition states that part of the Cossacks, annoyed at the hardships of an aimless and endless campaign, left Pavlutsky and returned to the Kolyma. As the leader of this act, the name of Krivogornizyn is mentioned, who was pyatidesyatnik (literally, “chief of fifty men,” the second degree of commissioned officer in the Cossack regiment). During the time of my travels, a man of that name still lived on the Lower Kolyma, in the village of Pokhotsk, which is the centre of the ancient Cossack population. He was reputed to be a descendant of the “traitor.” He was quite blind and extremely poor. The people said that he was being punished for the sins of his ancestor. In Chukchee tales Pavlutsky is represented as very cruel. The cruelties I mentioned before are all connected with his name. He is therefore given an additional name, “Aqä-teiˊññɪlin Yäkuˊnnin” (“cruelly-murdering Yäkuˊnnin”). He wanted to exterminate the whole Chukchee people. When murdering people, he would gather up the fur caps of the killed men. Twenty sledges loaded with caps he sent to the Sun Chief (the Emperor). He said, “No more are left. I exterminated them all.” The Sun Chief answered, “There are still numerous little birds hidden in the grass.” — “Then I will go and finish them.” Therefore, when he is defeated and taken prisoner, the Chukchee, in their turn, torture him and put him to a cruel death. Russian and Tungus tradition also mentions that Pavlutsky was taken prisoner and tortured to death. He was wounded and fell to the ground; but the Chukchee for a long time could find no place in his armor through which to deal a mortal blow. Only when the armor was untied and opened, was be stabbed in the neck. Chukchee tradition says that he was wounded in the right eye, then killed with a knife thrust into the abdomen under a joint of the armor. Another version says that he was stripped of armor and slowly roasted over a big fire, and that the roasted meat was cut off piece by piece and thrown away. Still another version mentions that he was stripped naked and made to run around on the snow, being urged on like a young reindeer with a heavy wooden club tied to his head.¹ All this time he was beaten with whips and tent-dusters, and every blow drew blood. So he died.

A very interesting tale collected on the middle course of the Anadyr relates how two Reindeer Chukchee brothers, Maˊnê and Manaˊqtun, fought against the Russians. Manaˊqtun was taken captive. Maˊnê, in his turn, captured single-handed a Russian ship on which a great commander was travelling up the river. This was done in the following manner. At some rapids several Cossacks were walking along the shore, towing the ship. Maˊnê concealed himself among the bushes and awaited their approach. They were making great efforts, because the ship was very heavy, and they were unarmed. All their arms were aboard the ship. When they came quite near, Maˊnê rushed out and attacked them. They were nearly exhausted, and offered little[654]🗗uncollated resistance; so he killed them all with his spear. After that he seized the tow-line. The commander was alone in the ship, holding the rudder. Maˊnê held the tow-line. “You there! All the arms that you have on the ship throw into the water. Otherwise I shall let go of the tow-line.” The commander took all the rifles and long knives (swords) and threw them into the water, etc.

All the details of this episode belong to an old Cossack tale which describes the early exploits of Yermak, the conqueror of Siberia, on the Lower Volga. The tale was carried by Cossacks to the Anadyr, then borrowed by the Chukchee and adapted to the description of their own heroes.

I shall speak about the tradition relating to the conclusion of peace between the Chukchee and the Russians, and the beginnings of trade, in the last chapter of this volume.

Maritime People, as stated before, took little part in the Taˊn˙ñɪn wars. Tradition, however, mentions the dog-drivers now and then as joining the reindeer-drivers; but the dog-drivers are always represented as of little account. They come in at the end of the fighting, and are referred to in very few words. Moreover, it seems that the dog-drivers were not Maritime settlers, but only the poorest of the inland inhabitants, who, owing to lack of driving-reindeer, travelled with dogs. In ancient times some of the inhabitants of the interior were poor in reindeer, and so kept some dogs.

Eskimo Wars. — The wars of the Chukchee with the Eskimo are preserved in the memory of the people with less distinctness, perhaps, because they are more ancient. In some tales a cruel and implacable war between two Maritime peoples is referred to. The one are described as the Chukchee; the other, according to the details of their material life, must be the Eskimo. They live by hunting seal, and have never seen a domesticated reindeer. They travel with dogs, and even these are few in number. Their houses are underground, and steadied from within with jaw-bones of whales. The people, however, are not the Eskimo: they are evil spirits (keˊlet), and war with them is prosecuted chiefly by magic.

In other tales dealing with the same subject, but of a less fantastic nature, two peoples also wage war against each other. These are the Reindeer men (Čawčuwaˊt, or Čaˊwču) against the Aiˊwanat, — “those of this side” (wotênqa tkênat) against “those of that side” (ᴇn˙keˊkinet); the westerners (“those coming leeward,” eig̣ɪˊs˙qɪlɪt) against the easterners (“those coming windward,” aivaˊʟaᵋt).¹ Usually under the first name are understood the Chukchee, and under the second the Eskimo; but this is not quite certain. A large part of the Maritime people must have been Chukchee, even in ancient times; but their rôle in those wars is not represented with much distinctness. On the other hand, even among the Eskimo, those of the Asiatic shore, in contrast to those of[655]🗗uncollated St. Lawrence Island and to those of America, call themselves “Reindeer tribe” (Čawčuwaˊt), meaning by this that they are nearer to the reindeer-herds than “those of the other shore” (Roˊčhɪlɪt), and the name Aiˊwanat, given to them by the inland reindeer-breeders, they apply in their turn to the people of the other shore.¹ They give as a reason for this, that in their traffic with “those of the other shore,” they offer the products of reindeer-breeding (reindeer-meat, fawn-skins, ready-made clothes of reindeer-skin), while “those of the other shore” bring the products of Maritime pursuits (seal-skins, thong, blubber). Though this is quite true, still the contrast is much exaggerated.

One of the most frequent episodes of this tradition refers to a struggle between a Čaˊwču warrior and a Maritime Aiˊwan. In the summer-time the reindeer-breeder goes to the seashore, and finds there the Aiˊwan carving a whale and hauling to the shore a quantity of walrus killed on a sea-hunt. The reindeer-breeder is longing for the sea-meat. He visits the Aiˊwan, or sends to him some member of his family, and asks for blubber. In some versions the request is granted, and the Reindeer-man goes home peacefully with the object of his desire. Thus, for instance, in the tale of “The Happy Suitor,” the hero visits the Aiˊwan, and sees a walrus-carcass lying whole on the ground. He says, “I come for blubber!” They answer, “Here is the carcass: we will carve it, and cut a piece for you.” He says, “Better not carve it. It is just a good carrying-load for my shoulder.” — “Oh, no! Will you be able to carry it?” — “Oh, yes! if only you do not grudge it.” He lifted the carcass on his shoulder and carried it home.²

Much more frequently, however, the Aiˊwan refuses the request. This refusal is contrary to the customs of arctic life, which require liberality on the part of a successful hunter, and, in case a whale has been captured, grant the right to everyone to take part in the carving of the meat. So after the refusal a wrestling-match ensues, in which the Reindeer-breeder vanquishes and kills the Aiˊwan. Then he carries away the object of the strife. Thus, in the third chapter of the tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons,” two sons of Eleˊndi send their old father to an Aiˊwan neighbor to ask for some whale-skin. The Aiˊwan, in derision, fills with blubber the upper part of the old man’s breeches. The young men get angry and run to the place. A whale’s carcass is lying on the beach. The Aiˊwan’s working-people are busy carving whale-meat. The two young men jump to the whale, and, raising their spears, drive away all the people. The Aiˊwan calls to them, “Stop that! First kill me, then take my whale!” But they pay no heed to his words. He says, “Bring the requisites for a wrestling-match.” A walrus-hide is brought, and also some thigh-bones of walrus. He spreads the hide upon the ground, breaks the bones into[656]🗗uncollated sharp-pointed splinters, and fastens the splinters all around the edge of the hide with points upward. Then he smears the hide all over with blubber. This done, he takes a stand in the middle of the hide, and calls out, “Come on!”

The brothers are still carving whale-meat. They chop off piece after piece as large as a thong-seal carcass, flinging it over the shallow water towards the shore. The Aiˊwan stands firmly, as if riveted to the ground. “Come on, you good-for-nothings! What kind of men are you!” The younger one made a leap high up to the shore. His feet hit just the middle of the hide. He stands there, as if glued to the spot. The Aiˊwan says, “Who will begin?” — “You begin!” — “No, you begin, if you are the robber.” — “All right!” He wants to catch hold of the Aiˊwan, but, no matter what he does, the other one stands his ground. He tries to grasp him by the neck; but it is stiff, like wood. He moves his hands all around him, takes his aim, and watches for an opportunity.

All at once he sets his hand like an axe-blade, strikes him upon the neck; and the head is cut off and flies away, spinning like a top. The body is still standing. The Aiˊwan’s people are looking on in silence. The body falls down. The Aiˊwan’s wife flees to the open tundra. The Chukchee jumps back to his mate on the whale. When they have finished with the meat, they carry it home. Oh, what a load they carried!¹

The details are quite popular, and are repeated in several tales. Some others are added; for instance, the victor simply cuts the whale-carcass in two, takes one half in each hand, and carries it home. Then he flings the pieces down upon the ground before his tent, and exclaims, “Here, eat your fill!”

There is one very characteristic tale relating to the war between the Maritime people of this shore and those of the American side.² It refers to the struggle between the people of Indian Point and those of St. Lawrence Island. Both are Eskimo; but the tale is popular among the Maritime Chukchee, and I collected it among them. I should mention that the other Asiatic point which is the nearest to the “shore of the other side,” the village Nɵˊɵkan, on East Cape, is also inhabited by Eskimo. East Cape and Indian Point, of course, served as starting-points in all the wars of Asiatic natives against those of the American shore.

“Two men of Indian Point, one of them a shaman, were carried away by a tempest, in the winter-time, with the ice floes. They were taken to St. Lawrence Island, and arrived at a village. The people caught them and killed one of them, piercing his skull with a sharp drill. The shaman was left alive and made a slave. He only slept once with them, then he called to his walrus-spirits. A number of walrus came, and formed single file, so that he was able to walk upon their heads. After he had stepped on a walrus, it would dive into the water and join the file in front. After several adventures he returned to Indian Point and told the people there of the fate of his companion. The people resolved to take revenge. The following summer, warriors from every village gathered on the shore. They came in boats. The whole fleet of big boats sailed across the straits[657]🗗uncollated to St. Lawrence Island. They saw a village on the shore, and in a thick fog landed not very far away from it. The greater part of the people moved inland in order to attack the enemy from behind. Some few went directly to the village under cover of the fog. One old man said, ‘Give voice, like wolves howling.’ They howled like wolves. Then among the St. Lawrence people another old man started, and said, ‘Oh, they are here!’ The younger people answered, ‘Is it possible? But we are on an island.’ — ‘Oh, yes! Give answer, you also.’ Then they roared like walrus. Meanwhile the larger troop of assailants, those that were behind, were slowly approaching. All of a sudden they attacked the islanders, and began to kill them. The women, from sheer fright, strangled themselves. Others carved walrus-meat, with which to treat the victors. A great slaughter ensued. Numerous women were taken prisoners and carried to Indian Point. “After four years the St. Lawrence people, in their turn, sought revenge. They came in the night-time, and succeeded in surprising the people in their sleep. They killed them simply by thrusting their spears through the skin walls of the sleeping-room. One small orphan-boy, however, fled in time, and wakened the people. Then the assailants fled to the open sea. The next year the old men of St. Lawrence said, ‘It is enough. Let all the people make peace among themselves.’ The summer came, and a number of the islanders came to the shore. They brought a large number of wooden vessels, and gave them to the people of this land. An old man of our shore said, ‘How will you answer them? Give them skins.’ They gave them soft skins. ‘What skins are these?’ — ‘Reindeer-skins!’ — ‘What is a reindeer?’ — ‘They are with antlers!’ — ‘What are antlers?’ So they showed them a part of some skin from the head of a reindeer. They looked at it, and said, ‘Oh, how wonderful! The nose is like the holes in the hide cover of a boat.’ — ‘You had better try the meat!’ They cooked some reindeer-fat. — ‘Oh, well! it is like blubber.’ Then they ate of it. ‘Oh, it tastes good!’ They went away and left one man. He was a shaman; and the people of this shore made him a prisoner in the same way as the islanders did four years ago to one of our people.”

This is a very typical description of a war between two Maritime people living on opposite shores of Bering Sea.

Tungus and Yukaghir Wars. — Chukchee intercourse with the Tungus is quite recent, and almost nothing of it is reflected in the folk-stories. One or two tales relating to it are quite short, and poor in details. The tales of the eastern Tungus, on the contrary, contain a number of details about the coming of the Chukchee and their struggle with the Tungus inhabitants of the land. As to the Yukaghir, the Chukchee tales hardly mention them. Yukaghir tradition, on the contrary, asserts that the Chukchee and the Yukaghir were friendly among themselves; and one time, when a certain Chukchee was killed unintentially by the Yukaghir, and they saw his face, they exclaimed with much sorrow, “Sun, look on, we have killed a brother.”¹ But the Chukchee tales contain nothing about the Veˊemɪlɪt (“river-settlers”), the name used for the Yukaghir.

Intertribal Wars. — As to wars among the various parts of the Chukchee tribe, the tales mention some cases of such. Among the Reindeer Chukchee certain remote groups are even now looked upon with much distrust: such as the people of Chaun, by those of the whole Kolyma country; and, by the Pacific part of the tribe, those of the Telqäˊp tundra² and the so-called Yeˊlkelɪt of the Upper Anadyr River and of its tributary the White River. These branches of the Reindeer Chukchee are generally spoken of as “bad”[658]🗗uncollated people, poor and reckless. They pay back in kind, and even scuffles often arise on the ground of mutual taunting.

One tale relates how Head-Nodder, Eᵋleˊnnut, and Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn, set off against the Koryak.

“On the way they visited the Aivaˊʟaᵋt.¹ They were living on the shore of a lake. The lake was large, and the ice on it quite thick. One water-hole was cut in the middle of the lake. ‘Go and fetch some water!’ said Head-Nodder to the younger people. Some went for water. Across the water-hole stands Taˊve with wide-spread legs, the big man, the strong one. “What do you want?’ — ‘We want water.’ — ‘You shall not have it.’ — They went back. ‘Why have you not brought water?’ cries Eᵋleˊnnut. ‘Taˊve did not let us! Now go yourself.’ — ‘I will go!’ cries Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn. He took the kettle and descended from the shore. Then he came to the water-hole. ‘Go away!’ — ‘You shall not have it!’ He came quite close, put the kettle on the ice, caught Taˊve and turned him head over heels. He broke with his head the thin ice over the water-hole, then he hurled him down on the ground. After that he filled his kettle and went back. ‘Oh, oh!’ The Easterners seized their spears. ‘Stop that!’ cries Head-Nodder. ‘What strife is this, since we are of one tribe? Better let us go and try our anger on some other tribe.’ Then peace was made among the people, and all of them set forth against the Taˊn˙ñɪt.”

During the scuffle at the Anui fair in the year 1895, which I mentioned before, Eiˊheli, “the highest chief of the Chukchee,” happened to pick a quarrel with the people of the Chaun country. A man from Chaun was killed there. Eiˊheli, who was drunk at the time of the scuffle, as usual, saw the corpse, and said aloud, “Oh, a man from Chaun! A dog dies a dog’s death!” He even pushed the corpse with the toe of his boot. All this became known to the Chaun people, and they wanted to make Eiˊheli rue his words. So the next morning they met him on his way to the Russian fort, and wanted to seize his reindeer. He succeeded in getting loose from them. Then they declared that they would kill Eiˊheli just as the Russians had killed one of their number. Eiˊheli felt uneasy, and the next morning left, and made for his own country. I was then with him. The first five days we travelled quite fast, from fear of pursuit. Three years before, Eiˊheli and his people had had a quarrel with the people from Chaun, and had nearly come to blows.

Minor quarrels sometimes arise in connection with conflicting claims to the best reindeer-pastures. The tale of “The Happy Suitor” contains a curious episode of this kind.

“Two sons of the hero came back from the reindeer-pasture. The elder said to the father, ‘A man of the neighboring camp is pasturing his reindeer on our grounds.’ The father said, ‘Why is he angry at us, that he acts in such a manner? This is our fall pasture. Is there not room enough farther on? What has angered him?’ Then he said, ‘Take that, and stick it into the ground there.’ He gave them a large arrow with a wooden head. ‘With this I want to recover my pasture. This is the sign of interdiction of use.’ They went to the pasture and put the arrow there. In the fall they drove their herd towards that pasture. Then they could not find the arrow. The other man had taken it away, and the pasture was quite trampled down. At last they found an old fireplace, and there a remnant of the arrow, all charred. The man had used it to boil some soup for himself, so large was the arrow. Some time after that, they pitched their tents in a new[659]🗗uncollated place. Then they saw the other man passing by with a caravan of sledges. The pack-sledges were following one behind another in a long file. The old man took his bow and five arrows and killed five reindeer one after another, so that five sledges were left without driving-animals. The people of the offender had to attach their own driving-reindeer to the sledges, and to walk slowly afoot. So the old man had his revenge for the burnt arrow.”

As to the Maritime Chukchee, I mentioned a feud between the villages Luᵋˊren and Yaˊnřa-ñai, which lasted through more than ten generations, and has not been smoothed over even at the present time.¹

SLAVES. — The term for a male slave was puˊrel, and for a female slave ñaˊučhɪn. The latter is simply a variation of the word ñeˊus˙qät (“woman”). Other synonymes of the word puˊrel are äᵋmuˊlɪn, vɪˊyolɪn, g̣ŭpɪˊlɪn. Properly speaking, puˊrel was a captive of another tribe, or perhaps a man of the same tribe who was enslaved, in lieu of blood-revenge. I shall treat of this later on. Äᵋmuˊlɪn signifies also “weak one,” “weakling,” and is used as an invective, especially with the superlative prefix čiq (čiq-äᵋmuˊlɪn, “a very weak one”). Vɪˊyolɪn signifies “assistant,” and is used even for some of the benevolent spirits. G̣ŭpɪˊlɪn signifies “a working-man,” and is applied to all workers, male or female, even those belonging to one’s own family. Nevertheless all these terms are used in a contemptuous sense, and may be used as invectives. They are applied also to the real slaves almost without discrimination.

In modern life slaves hardly exist. The remembrance of them, however, is fresh. For instance, two of my acquaintaces — one Araˊro, a very rich reindeer-breeder of the western tundra; and the other, Aiñanwaˊt — still declared themselves to be descendants of captive slaves of Taˊn˙ñɪn origin; and even their neighbors sometimes taunted them with the fact, and called them poraˊlčɪñɪn (“piece of a slave”). The line of descent was removed several generations. Still Aiñanwaˊt asserted that he himself was a Taˊn˙ñɪn, though of course even his great-grandfather spoke only Chukchee and lived among that tribe. Even the special incantations which Aiñanwaˊt possessed, as does almost every Chukchee reindeer-breeder, mentioned his Taˊn˙ñɪn and Aˊtal-Taˊn˙ñɪn (Chuvantzy) origin.

The tales often make mention of slaves, male and female, taken as prisoners of war. The tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons” gives a detailed description of an enslaved prisoner of Aiˊwan origin. The hero vanquishes him in single fight. Then, in order to weaken his future powers of resistance and to break his spirit, he beats him with a heavy club all over the muscles and fleshy parts of the body. After that he ties him firmly to a pole, and carries him away like a log. The slave is suffering, and cries, “I am thirsty!” One time they give him water; another time they do not care to do so. When brought to the house of the victors, he is made a reindeer-herdsman; and[660]🗗uncollated when he does not give full satisfaction, the master severely chastises him. The slave repays him with treachery, and is finally killed by the master.

Half-grown boys and girls were considered as best fitted to be taken as slaves. Sometimes numbers of them were taken with the herds and kept with them, especially as they knew their own herd better than the victors. Thus, in the tale of “Taˊlo, the Taˊn˙ñɪn Nursling,” the hero, after vanquishing the Taˊn˙ñɪt, takes fifteen herds, and with them eighty young slaves. All other prisoners are deprived of life. In the tale of “The Transformed Shaman” the hero takes a number of herds and combines them. Each herd had its own young herdsmen, who formed quite a throng. When coming home, the hero divides the booty into two parts, — the reindeer as well as the herdsmen, — and gives one part to his brother.¹ In the course of time, such captives mixed with the Chukchee people, the herds were slaughtered and consumed by the victors, and a part of them fell into the possession of their herdsmen. In the tale of “Eleˊndi and His Sons,” it is said that even the treacherous Aiˊwan slave, if he should behave properly, would ultimately receive from the master a portion of the herd, though it was not even acquired in war and was the master’s old property. Captive women were hard-worked, and were made the wives of their masters. Sometimes they were sold from one camp to another; but, on the whole, their position was little different from that of the Chukchee women.

The price of a grown woman was a large bag of tobacco (72 or 108 pounds Avoirdupois).² Young girls were cheaper. I shall show in the last chapter that captive women from the American shore were sold by the Chukchee traders even to Russian settlers.

I mentioned before, that in modern times no slaves have existed among the Chukchee. I was told in the village of Valqaˊʟên that some years ago, in one of the reindeer-camps of the vicinity, an old woman died who had been captured by the Maritime Chukchee on a free-booting expedition to the American shore, and then sold to the Reindeer-breeders. In a camp on the Wolverene River I met another old woman who was also of American Eskimo origin. She was said to have been bought by a Maritime Eskimo trader, and also sold to the Reindeer-breeders. At the time, she was an old widow without children, and lived in the camp of the brother of her former husband. The other women, when speaking of her, called her, with a shade of contempt, “the slave-woman” (ñaˊučhɪn).

I was told that in cases of murder, blood-revenge may be replaced by the taking of a man from the family of the murderer. This man must wholly replace the murderer. He must perform his work and all his duties. Thus, in the case of the Chukchee killed in a scuffle at the Anui fair in the year 1895, of whom I have spoken before, the kinsmen of the one killed came[661]🗗uncollated to the fair the next year, and asked for retribution. They were offered tea, sugar, and tobacco. They took all this, but then declared that they wanted the Cossack who killed the man, or at least any other of the Cossacks. He was to be taken to the tundra, and to live there in the family of the killed man, to be a husband to his widow, a father to his small children. Then only might the feud be considered as wholly settled. They repeated the request the following year, and were again paid in tea and other valuables.

In this case a man taken from the family of the offender had to be adopted by the family of the victim, and in every way took his place. I know of another case of similar character. Peˊqul, a man of Maritime origin, had a cousin who was an assistant herdsman in a large tundra herd on the. Wolverene River. After a couple of years, the young herdsman was killed in a scuffle. Peˊqul came to the Wolverene River to seek for indemnity and revenge. He took from the family of the murderer a number of reindeer by way of ransom (kɪˊtkaw); then he also took a young boy, the son of the sister of the murderer, and carried him to his own house. The boy was treated very harshly, so that he even tried to commit suicide. Then he was released in exchange for a new payment in live reindeer. Peˊqul also threatened to take a certain young woman from the same family. The woman also declared that she would rather destroy her own life.

I know of no other cases of such replacing of dead kinsmen by a living enemy; but I was told that in former times such cases were frequent, and that the men taken from the family of the murderer were treated like slaves, and had to obey their masters blindly. Otherwise the master had the right to kill them in his turn. I suspect, however, that this is a rather exaggerated statement, or at least that slaves of this kind were not frequent among the Chukchee.

I will also mention the tradition of a war between the people of Indian Point and those of St. Lawrence Island, of which I spoke before. There, too, after peace was concluded, a man was left as a voluntary prisoner to replace another one killed in the beginning of the strife. In modern times I know of no other cases besides those mentioned here.