Between Two Worlds (14 page)

“You can put your clothes back on in a minute, Eqariusaq,” she said in English. “First, I need to measure you.” She took out what I later came to know as a tape, to measure my height and around my waist and head. Mauripaulak recorded the numbers in a notebook. Finally the Pearys were done with me and I could dress.

“Next?” Mauripaulak invited. “Lieutenant Peary has gifts for you all. Needles, buttons, wood.”

That got everyone’s attention. And so the trap was set, especially since the room was warm, which made it easy for Peary to get us to take off our clothes. There were even those like the shameless boy entertainer Angulluk, who seemed to enjoy it. Naked and fat, he swung his
arms back and forth, happily posing, as if he did this every day.

One of Peary’s men made tea. My sister, Nuljalik, let herself be photographed without protest. My brother, Inunteq, shot Peary an angry look when Mauripaulak urged him forward. I did not watch when his or my parents’ pictures were made.

The afternoon passed, and my family returned to our igloo, holding two needles and a small piece of wood. But after that day, it was hard to look at Peary or Mitti Peary and not feel them measuring me.

Years later in America, I liked to go into the room that Mitti Peary called her study. No one scolded me for being there, for pulling the leather-bound books off the shelves. Some books had beautiful, colorful maps—“Your land’s at the top of the world,” Mitti Peary had explained.

One morning, I found a book with photographs of naked people in it. I recognized the boy Angulluk, his tummy round like a woman’s, viewed from both the front and from the side.
These naked adults and children are my people!
My stomach tightened. I flipped through the pages to see if I could find myself. When I didn’t see any more pictures, I closed the book fast, as if I’d been burned.

Kneeling on the carpet, I searched the shelf for the book I liked best and placed it gently on the floor. I looked
at the photographs: a walrus, roaring; Peary’s ship, the
Hope
, surrounded by ice floes; Mitti Peary in a long striped dress, holding a parasol, towering over a man in furs, my father’s friend Ikwa.

I drew in a deep breath. There was the picture I’d come to find. The photograph showed my mother frowning, her mouth open, in the act of talking. I knew that expression. She was cross, as if the sun were in her eyes. She wore her hair in a messy topknot, and over her shoulder, just barely visible in the picture, a baby peered out of her hood. That baby was me! I thought of my mother, entertaining me with her songs and her string games, and broke into a sob. When would I ever see her again?

Suddenly, I noticed Mitti Peary standing over me. “You’ve found the book I wrote,” she said softly.

I looked up, tears running down my face, and showed her the picture. “It’s Anaana! Take me home! I want my mother.”

“Shhh,” she said. “Billy Bah, I know you miss your mother. She misses you. I’m sure there isn’t an hour in the day when she does not think of you. I didn’t realize living here would be so difficult for you.” She bent down and placed her arms around my shoulders. Then she went to a cabinet, pulled out a photograph, and handed it to me. My mother! “This is yours.”

“Thank you,” I said, filled with surprise and gratitude.

I kept the photograph in my special box and looked at
it every morning when I woke up, at night before I went to sleep, and whenever I was feeling lonely; the white man’s magic was sometimes comforting.

“Your
kapatak
looks beautiful on you,” I said.

Marie stroked a foxtail hanging from a sleeve. “I
love
it!”

In the forward saloon, Mitti Peary and I held up an oil lamp to take a better look. Marie’s
kapatak
was truly a thing of beauty. No other garment would ever compare to it, I thought, still wishing I’d been its maker. Most coats with hoods were black seal fur. Marie’s was black, too, but Ally had fitted a handsome triangle of white fox pelts over the chest. White fox tails trimmed the hood and sleeves. Her black sealskin
kamiit
also fit her perfectly.

“You did an excellent job, Ally,” Mitti Peary said. “You, too, Billy Bah!”

Ally beamed as Sammy, in her arms, tugged at the foxtails on Marie’s hood.

Mitti Peary appeared very handsome in her new coat, too, and I was proud of the way she could move, because I’d cut the pelts exactly right. Even so, relations between us were growing more strained every day that Angulluk did not come back. Though he’d been foolish enough to go off on a dangerous journey, I faulted her for putting him up to it.

“I can’t wait until Dad sees me wearing my new coat!” Marie said.
She’ll be lucky if her father is still alive
. I sighed. Was Angulluk still alive?

“In honor of these fine coats, I’m giving you seamstresses the rest of the day off,” Mitti Peary announced.

Not long after, we walked out to the deck. As if he knew I was looking for him, Duncan appeared in his wool coat and hat. How I wished I had extra furs to make him a coat, but the sailors already had winter clothes, though they were barely able to keep out the cold.

Mitti Peary paraded about on the ice, and I glimpsed the strong, brave woman I’d known from my childhood. She even broke into a run and chased Marie. She’d hardly left the ship lately. “Billy Bah,” she said, “I’m so grateful to you for making me this coat. How easy it is to move in it! But I’m tired out now. Keep an eye on Marie, will you? She wants to take Cin for a run.”

“Yes,” I said, out of habit, then wished I hadn’t. I’d hoped to spend the day with Duncan. Maybe I still could.

It was time to see what was happening in the village. Marie and Cin dashed ahead, while Duncan and I struggled to keep pace. Soon, Cin was tumbling and running with her brothers and sisters. The dogs raced about the igloos, barking, while Marie, Tooth Girl, Runny Nose, and their friends ran among them. Navarana shuffled out of her igloo to watch and laughed.

I held her look for a few moments. Ignoring Duncan, who was by my side, she took my mittened hand and
grasped it tightly. In a heavy whisper, her eyebrows together, she said, “You belong in the village,
panik
.”

“I will come back when Angulluk returns from his journey,” I said. To myself I added,
Or when the sewing is finished, if he does not return
. For a journey on foot, my husband had been gone a long time, but not nearly long enough for me to assume that he’d been lost.

“I need to talk to Navarana alone,” I told Duncan. “Watch Marie.” He nodded. Then I followed Navarana into her rock igloo, filled with the familiar smell of seal broth, and let her feed me. One of these days, I thought, I’d be like this old woman, who could only eat soup that was mostly water with bits of soft organs floating in it.

“Your voice sounds faint,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

She waved away the question with her gnarled hand. “Fine, but tired. This winter will be my last.”

I felt my heart stop for a moment, my mouth go dry, tasting fear. “Never say such a thing!”

Her reply was sharp. “I only say the truth. I’m losing strength. My time is coming.”

“That can’t be—” I said.

Navarana ran her fingertips across my fingertips, then kissed me with her nose. She was sitting up straight, as always, but her breathing was hard. I touched her cheek, her fine chin and jaw, brushing my hand against her dry, wrinkled skin. We sat together in silence, as I had no more words to offer. With a heavy heart, I said good-bye, pressed my face against hers, then crawled out of the igloo.

Marie played tag on the ice with the children of the village, Duncan racing along with them. Before joining the group, I looked around at the women scraping skins near the igloos and the men dragging the bloody carcasses of seals onto the beach. I missed being part of their lives.

Duncan took my hand, and we watched Marie play. In her beautiful
kapatak
with the hood pulled up over her hair, Marie resembled her playmates. Her shouts even sounded like theirs. I waved to her. “Time to return!”

She dashed off in a different direction, Cin at her heels. We went on like this for a minute or two, until finally I caught up with her and held her to me, warm and snug.

Marie, catching her breath, said, “Let me show you something.” Her eyes were full of mischief.

Unlike the footprints Marie used to make with her boots, which had a square heel, the footprints made with
kamiit
were oval. With her finger, she drew five little circles around an oval.

“What does it look like?” she asked.

“A
nanoq
paw print!”

Marie laughed. “Exactly!” Beside us, Cin barked.

All the way back to the ship, Marie made paw prints, changing fingers so they wouldn’t freeze. She created a long winding trail of them leading up to the ship and, on deck, made lots of prints along the ship’s middle, near the galley, where the aroma of Charlie’s corn bread wafted out.

Laughing, Duncan and I admired her work.

Marie said, “I’m going to fool the sailors!”

Duncan went inside the ship to fetch Charlie the cook. Soon, Charlie was inspecting the prints. “By the holy St. Denis, ’tis a bear! These prints are fresh!”

I laughed so hard, tears came to my eyes. “Quiet!” Marie warned, though she, too, was giggling. The crewmembers, a few at a time, and even Mitti Peary came out of the cabins. Soon nearly everyone on the ship was there, talking, pointing at the prints, then arguing about who would have to go after the bear.

Duncan slapped his thighs and hooted with laughter. “It was only a joke played by little Miss Peary.”

The captain was angry! Mitti Peary took Marie firmly by the hand. Before she led her away, Marie looked back at me and Duncan with a sly smile.

The following morning a snowstorm blew down from the north, the first large storm of the winter. By myself, I paced back and forth on deck, under the tarpaulin, crying as I pictured Angulluk lost under an avalanche of snow.

For days hail beat down, keeping Ally and Sammy, Mikihoq and Tooth Girl on shore. The cold seeped through the boards of the
Windward
. I’d once been in awe of the ship and the ingenuity of the men who built it; now I wondered why the crew hadn’t abandoned it for the winter to live in cozy igloos. During breaks in the storm, Captain Bartlett had his crew busy shoveling to keep the deck clear. Duncan had built Cin a house, a shelter that was covered on the top as well as the sides, and lined with as many blankets as could be spared.

One night in the forecastle as I pulled the curtain closed to rest until Duncan came, I heard two sailors talking about me. “Did you ever see that Eskimo girl running on the ice with the dog and Marie? She’s like another child. Then, in the next minute, she’s in a bunk with a crewman. Those Eskimo girls start young. Who knows
how many partners she’s had. I bet anyone who takes her gets a sore rash and a bad itch.”

“If I was Duncan, I’d stay away from her.”

“He said if she wasn’t already married, he’d take her home to Maine.”