A thousand deaths by Jack London

essence, renunciation is ever the same. And the paradox of it is,

that men and women forego the dearest thing in the world for

something dearer. It was never otherwise. Thus it was when Abel

brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. The

firstlings and the fat thereof were to him the dearest things in

the world; yet he gave them over that he might be on good terms

with God. So it was with Abraham when he prepared to offer up his

son Isaac on a stone. Isaac was very dear to him; but God, in

incomprehensible ways, was yet dearer. It may be that Abraham

feared the Lord. But whether that be true or not it has since been

determined by a few billion people that he loved the Lord and

desired to serve him.

And since it has been determined that love is service, and since to

renounce is to serve, then Jees Uck, who was merely a woman of a

swart-skinned breed, loved with a great love. She was unversed in

history, having learned to read only the signs of weather and of

game; so she had never heard of Abel nor of Abraham; nor, having

escaped the good sisters at Holy Cross, had she been told the story

of Ruth, the Moabitess, who renounced her very God for the sake of

a stranger woman from a strange land. Jees Uck had learned only

one way of renouncing, and that was with a club as the dynamic

factor, in much the same manner as a dog is made to renounce a

stolen marrow-bone. Yet, when the time came, she proved herself

capable of rising to the height of the fair-faced royal races and

of renouncing in right regal fashion.

So this is the story of Jees Uck, which is also the story of Neil

Bonner, and Kitty Bonner, and a couple of Neil Bonner’s progeny.

Jees Uck was of a swart-skinned breed, it is true, but she was not

an Indian; nor was she an Eskimo; nor even an Innuit. Going

backward into mouth tradition, there appears the figure of one

Skolkz, a Toyaat Indian of the Yukon, who journeyed down in his

youth to the Great Delta where dwell the Innuits, and where he

foregathered with a woman remembered as Olillie. Now the woman

Olillie had been bred from an Eskimo mother by an Innuit man. And

from Skolkz and Olillie came Halie, who was one-half Toyaat Indian,

one-quarter Innuit, and one-quarter Eskimo. And Halie was the

grandmother of Jees Uck.

Now Halie, in whom three stocks had been bastardized, who cherished

no prejudice against further admixture, mated with a Russian fur

trader called Shpack, also known in his time as the Big Fat.

Shpack is herein classed Russian for lack of a more adequate term;

for Shpack’s father, a Slavonic convict from the Lower Provinces,

had escaped from the quicksilver mines into Northern Siberia, where

he knew Zimba, who was a woman of the Deer People and who became

the mother of Shpack, who became the grandfather of Jees Uck.

Now had not Shpack been captured in his boyhood by the Sea People,

who fringe the rim of the Arctic Sea with their misery, he would

A Hyperborean Brew

78

not have become the grandfather of Jees Uck and there would be no

story at all. But he WAS captured by the Sea People, from whom he

escaped to Kamchatka, and thence, on a Norwegian whale-ship, to the

Baltic. Not long after that he turned up in St. Petersburg, and

the years were not many till he went drifting east over the same

weary road his father had measured with blood and groans a half-

century before. But Shpack was a free man, in the employ of the

great Russian Fur Company. And in that employ he fared farther and

farther east, until he crossed Bering Sea into Russian America; and

at Pastolik, which is hard by the Great Delta of the Yukon, became

the husband of Halie, who was the grandmother of Jees Uck. Out of

this union came the woman-child, Tukesan.

Shpack, under the orders of the Company, made a canoe voyage of a

few hundred miles up the Yukon to the post of Nulato. With him he

took Halie and the babe Tukesan. This was in 1850, and in 1850 it

was that the river Indians fell upon Nulato and wiped it from the

face of the earth. And that was the end of Shpack and Halie. On

that terrible night Tukesan disappeared. To this day the Toyaats

aver they had no hand in the trouble; but, be that as it may, the

fact remains that the babe Tukesan grew up among them.

Tukesan was married successively to two Toyaat brothers, to both of

whom she was barren. Because of this, other women shook their

heads, and no third Toyaat man could be found to dare matrimony

with the childless widow. But at this time, many hundred miles

above, at Fort Yukon, was a man, Spike O’Brien. Fort Yukon was a

Hudson Bay Company post, and Spike O’Brien one of the Company’s

servants. He was a good servant, but he achieved an opinion that

the service was bad, and in the course of time vindicated that

opinion by deserting. It was a year’s journey, by the chain of

posts, back to York Factory on Hudson’s Bay. Further, being

Company posts, he knew he could not evade the Company’s clutches.

Nothing retained but to go down the Yukon. It was true no white

man had ever gone down the Yukon, and no white man knew whether the

Yukon emptied into the Arctic Ocean or Bering Sea; but Spike

O’Brien was a Celt, and the promise of danger was a lure he had

ever followed.

A few weeks later, somewhat battered, rather famished, and about

dead with river-fever, he drove the nose of his canoe into the

earth bank by the village of the Toyaats and promptly fainted away.

While getting his strength back, in the weeks that followed, he

looked upon Tukesan and found her good. Like the father of Shpack,

who lived to a ripe old age among the Siberian Deer People, Spike

O’Brien might have left his aged bones with the Toyaats. But

romance gripped his heart-strings and would not let him stay. As

he had journeyed from York Factory to Fort Yukon, so, first among

men, might he journey from Fort Yukon to the sea and win the honour

of being the first man to make the North-West Passage by land. So

he departed down the river, won the honour, and was unannaled and

unsung. In after years he ran a sailors’ boarding-house in San

Francisco, where he became esteemed a most remarkable liar by

virtue of the gospel truths he told. But a child was born to

Tukesan, who had been childless. And this child was Jees Uck. Her

lineage has been traced at length to show that she was neither

Indian, nor Eskimo, nor Innuit, nor much of anything else; also to

A Hyperborean Brew

79

show what waifs of the generations we are, all of us, and the

strange meanderings of the seed from which we spring.

What with the vagrant blood in her and the heritage compounded of

many races, Jees Uck developed a wonderful young beauty. Bizarre,

perhaps, it was, and Oriental enough to puzzle any passing

ethnologist. A lithe and slender grace characterized her. Beyond

a quickened lilt to the imagination, the contribution of the Celt

was in no wise apparent. It might possibly have put the warm blood

under her skin, which made her face less swart and her body fairer;

but that, in turn, might have come from Shpack, the Big Fat, who

inherited the colour of his Slavonic father. And, finally, she had

great, blazing black eyes–the half-caste eye, round, full-orbed,

and sensuous, which marks the collision of the dark races with the

light. Also, the white blood in her, combined with her knowledge

that it was in her, made her, in a way, ambitious. Otherwise by

upbringing and in outlook on life, she was wholly and utterly a

Toyaat Indian.

One winter, when she was a young woman, Neil Bonner came into her

life. But he came into her life, as he had come into the country,

somewhat reluctantly. In fact, it was very much against his will,

coming into the country. Between a father who clipped coupons and

cultivated roses, and a mother who loved the social round, Neil

Bonner had gone rather wild. He was not vicious, but a man with

meat in his belly and without work in the world has to expend his

energy somehow, and Neil Bonner was such a man. And he expended

his energy in such a fashion and to such extent that when the

inevitable climax came, his father, Neil Bonner, senior, crawled

out of his roses in a panic and looked on his son with a wondering

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *