A thousand deaths by Jack London

his howling. Whereat there was a great clamour for the bottle from

the others so stricken. But I made harangue, and ere they tasted

and were made well I had mulcted Tummasook of his copper kettle and

kerosene can, and the woman Ipsukuk of her sugar and molasses, and

the other sick ones of goodly measures of flour. The shaman

glowered wickedly at the people around my knees, though he poorly

concealed the wonder that lay beneath. But I held my head high,

and Moosu groaned beneath the loot as he followed my heels to the

shack.

“There I set to work. In Tummasook’s copper kettle I mixed three

quarts of wheat flour with five of molasses, and to this I added of

water twenty quarts. Then I placed the kettle near the lamp, that

it might sour in the warmth and grow strong. Moosu understood, and

said my wisdom passed understanding and was greater than Solomon’s,

who he had heard was a wise man of old time. The kerosene can I

set over the lamp, and to its nose I affixed a snout, and into the

snout the bone that was like a gooseneck. I sent Moosu without to

pound ice, while I connected the barrel of his gun with the

gooseneck, and midway on the barrel I piled the ice he had pounded.

And at the far end of the gun-barrel, beyond the pan of ice, I

placed a small iron pot. When the brew was strong enough (and it

was two days ere it could stand on its own legs), I filled the

kerosene can with it, and lighted the wicks I had braided.

“Now that all was ready, I spoke to Moosu. ‘Go forth,’ I said, ‘to

the chief men of the village, and give them greeting, and bid them

come into my igloo and sleep the night away with me and the gods.’

“The brew was singing merrily when they began shoving aside the

skin flap and crawling in, and I was heaping cracked ice on the

gun-barrel. Out of the priming hole at the far end, drip, drip,

drip into the iron pot fell the liquor–HOOCH, you know. But

they’d never seen the like, and giggled nervously when I made

harangue about its virtues. As I talked I noted the jealousy in

the shaman’s eye, so when I had done, I placed him side by side

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with Tummasook and the woman Ipsukuk. Then I gave them to drink,

and their eyes watered and their stomachs warmed, till from being

afraid they reached greedily for more; and when I had them well

started, I turned to the others. Tummasook made a brag about how

he had once killed a polar bear, and in the vigour of his pantomime

nearly slew his mother’s brother. But nobody heeded. The woman

Ipsukuk fell to weeping for a son lost long years agone in the ice,

and the shaman made incantation and prophecy. So it went, and

before morning they were all on the floor, sleeping soundly with

the gods.

“The story tells itself, does it not? The news of the magic potion

spread. It was too marvellous for utterance. Tongues could tell

but a tithe of the miracles it performed. It eased pain, gave

surcease to sorrow, brought back old memories, dead faces, and

forgotten dreams. It was a fire that ate through all the blood,

and, burning, burned not. It stoutened the heart, stiffened the

back, and made men more than men. It revealed the future, and gave

visions and prophecy. It brimmed with wisdom and unfolded secrets.

There was no end of the things it could do, and soon there was a

clamouring on all hands to sleep with the gods. They brought their

warmest furs, their strongest dogs, their best meats; but I sold

the hooch with discretion, and only those were favoured that

brought flour and molasses and sugar. And such stores poured in

that I set Moosu to build a cache to hold them, for there was soon

no space in the igloo. Ere three days had passed Tummasook had

gone bankrupt. The shaman, who was never more than half drunk

after the first night, watched me closely and hung on for the

better part of the week. But before ten days were gone, even the

woman Ipsukuk exhausted her provisions, and went home weak and

tottery.

“But Moosu complained. ‘O master,’ he said, ‘we have laid by great

wealth in molasses and sugar and flour, but our shack is yet mean,

our clothes thin, and our sleeping furs mangy. There is a call of

the belly for meat the stench of which offends not the stars, and

for tea such as Tummasook guzzles, and there is a great yearning

for the tobacco of Neewak, who is shaman and who plans to destroy

us. I have flour until I am sick, and sugar and molasses without

stint, yet is the heart of Moosu sore and his bed empty.’

“‘Peace!’ I answered, ‘thou art weak of understanding and a fool.

Walk softly and wait, and we will grasp it all. But grasp now, and

we grasp little, and in the end it will be nothing. Thou art a

child in the way of the white man’s wisdom. Hold thy tongue and

watch, and I will show you the way my brothers do overseas, and, so

doing, gather to themselves the riches of the earth. It is what is

called “business,” and what dost thou know about business?’

“But the next day he came in breathless. ‘O master, a strange

thing happeneth in the igloo of Neewak, the shaman; wherefore we

are lost, and we have neither worn the warm furs nor tasted the

good tobacco, what of your madness for the molasses and flour. Go

thou and witness whilst I watch by the brew.’

“So I went to the igloo of Neewak. And behold, he had made his own

still, fashioned cunningly after mine. And as he beheld me he

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15

could ill conceal his triumph. For he was a man of parts, and his

sleep with the gods when in my igloo had not been sound.

“But I was not disturbed, for I knew what I knew, and when I

returned to my own igloo, I descanted to Moosu, and said: ‘Happily

the property right obtains amongst this people, who otherwise have

been blessed with but few of the institutions of men. And because

of this respect for property shall you and I wax fat, and, further,

we shall introduce amongst them new institutions that other peoples

have worked out through great travail and suffering.’

“But Moosu understood dimly, till the shaman came forth, with eyes

flashing and a threatening note in his voice, and demanded to trade

with me. ‘For look you,’ he cried, ‘there be of flour and molasses

none in all the village. The like have you gathered with a shrewd

hand from my people, who have slept with your gods and who now have

nothing save large heads, and weak knees, and a thirst for cold

water that they cannot quench. This is not good, and my voice has

power among them; so it were well that we trade, you and I, even as

you have traded with them, for molasses and flour.’

“And I made answer: ‘This be good talk, and wisdom abideth in thy

mouth. We will trade. For this much of flour and molasses givest

thou me the caddy of “Star” and the two buckets of smoking.’

“And Moosu groaned, and when the trade was made and the shaman

departed, he upbraided me: ‘Now, because of thy madness are we,

indeed, lost! Neewak maketh hooch on his own account, and when the

time is ripe, he will command the people to drink of no hooch but

his hooch. And in this way are we undone, and our goods worthless,

and our igloo mean, and the bed of Moosu cold and empty!’

“And I answered: ‘By the body of the wolf, say I, thou art a fool,

and thy father before thee, and thy children after thee, down to

the last generation. Thy wisdom is worse than no wisdom and thine

eyes blinded to business, of which I have spoken and whereof thou

knowest nothing. Go, thou son of a thousand fools, and drink of

the hooch that Neewak brews in his igloo, and thank thy gods that

thou hast a white man’s wisdom to make soft the bed thou liest in.

Go! and when thou hast drunken, return with the taste still on thy

lips, that I may know.’

“And two days after, Neewak sent greeting and invitation to his

igloo. Moosu went, but I sat alone, with the song of the still in

my ears, and the air thick with the shaman’s tobacco; for trade was

slack that night, and no one dropped in but Angeit, a young hunter