National Geographic : 1951 Oct
482 A Frozen Galleon, an Iceberg Heads Majestically Out to Sea tuthertord l'att This comparatively small berg was sighted near the Labrador coast. Farther north, Bowdoin met one that measured more than a quarter-mile in diameter and loomed 100 feet above the water. Carried by ocean currents, a big iceberg may cruise for years before it melts in warmer southern waters. ptarmigan stretched into a large stew. What ever it is, there's none left at the end of a meal. Saturday night is bath night for all. Sun day morning, dressed in clean Eskimo garb, they march two by two from school to church, where they sing, pray, and listen attentively with the rest of the village. A heart-warming occasion! Their eager faces lined up at the long dining table make another touching sight. The bless ing and joining of hands to form a chain around the table while they repeat the Eskimo greeting in unison, "Aksuse! Illitarnamek!" precedes the meal. We were surprised to see so many Nascopie Indians here at Nain. They are a primitive race, generally looking half starved and only half clothed. Once deadly enemies of the Eskimos, they seemed friendly enough now. In fact, they looked in better condition than when we had seen them at Davis Inlet on other trips. They were grouped around the government store, waiting for dole, each one being entitled to so much food. For many years, living deep in the interior of Labrador, they have been coming out once a year for trading. In 1910 Mac, with three companions, suf fered clouds of black flies and mosquitoes in traveling 100 miles across Labrador to their caribou-skin tepees to visit and study this branch of the Algonquians. One of them, Sam Rich, with whom we talked, remembered Mac's visit well. And Napaho and others in the group hadn't forgotten that he fed and clothed them when they were starving the one winter he lived at his scientific station 20 miles from Nain. That station has since been moved to Nain and now constitutes one of the school's three buildings. Back on board for a good sleep and early start, we couldn't help but think how pleas ant it was here in summer, except for the hordes of mosquitoes and black flies and weird howling of dogs at night. In the red glow of a rising sun we left the sleeping village and steered for more inside runs. I settled back on deck and watched the parade of deep fjords, thickly wooded on both sides with spruce trees, and now and then a tumbling waterfall. Mount Thoresby, noble-looking, rose a sheer 3,000 feet on our starboard hand.