THE SPIRIT

Fin, injuring the beast. The annoyed whale headed for the beach, where it was mysteriously transformed into a man with a canoe who chided the hunters for breaking his boat. Remorseful, the youths patched the craft, and the man resumed his journey, turning into a whale again as he hit the waves.

As shown below, the story was recorded by a scholar visiting the Haida around 1900; his Haida guide provided the drawing of Scana inside the whale.

WITHin

From age to age, the Northwest Coast Indians have told stories of the killer rp|j-c K'Tl I I7D whale's great physical strength, 1 iiC/ lYiL/L/L/lA and of a spirit, called Scana, who lives in such beasts. A tale from the Haida people of the Queen Charlotte Islands depicts Scana's miraculous powers of transformation: It happened that a mischievous band of young men encountered a killer whale while hunting seals and amused themselves by throwing stones at its dorsal

Recovered from Ozelte, a yew wood club displays a striking owl's-head carving at either end. Although similar to seal-killing clubs, this finely sculpted weapon shows no sign of wear, suggesting that it may have been used for ceremonial purposes.

About 25,000 people in its lower reaches, also served as an avenue of exchange. Traders carrying goods from as far away as the Great Plains made the journey downriver to meet up with coastal tribes at a thriving marketplace situated near the lowermost rapids on the Columbia—a site known today as The Dalles.

Sometimes, the coastal Indians traded in practical items such as woven broad-brimmed hats, which were coveted as a shield against the frequent rains. But for the most part, they dealt in those alluring raw materials or crafted works that conferred special status upon the owner-treasures fashioned from whalebone, amber, or shiny white dentalium shells collected on the shores of Vancouver Island. These luxury items were usually transported to market in canoes because overland travel was difficult. However, some Indians, particularly those residing to the north, trekked over the mountains to barter with inhabitants of the interior for goods not easily available along the shore, including copper, caribou skins, sinew for thread, and lichen for dye making. The journey across the mountains would have taken them several days in each direction, traversing rocky defiles and icy torrents.

Trade was not the only means of contact between villages in the ancient Northwest; warfare was endemic to at least some parts of the coast. Whether the fights were initiated to gain territory or simply to claim captives who would serve as slaves, they apparently took the form of lightning raids-short, brutal encounters conducted with clubs and daggers. In times of hostility, villagers might move to remote sites, seeking refuge atop rocky knolls or on small, steep-sided islets.

As villages accrued wealth from the immediate environment or from neighboring areas, they evolved prestige systems based on hereditary rank, such as characterized the coastal tribes later encountered by Europeans. Far from passively accepting tribute as their birthright, however, village leaders constantly had to demonstrate their wisdom and generosity. In all likelihood, their duties included managing seasonal activities and setting policy-determining the timing and duration of fishing, hunting, or trading expeditions, for example, or deciding whether to make war or peace with a rival group. And in an economy marked by the sporadic influx of food and other assets, the leaders naturally assumed the role of guarding and redistributing the bounty.

Ancient ceremonies at which leaders doled out surplus resources may have been the origin of the spectacular potlatch ceremonies staged

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By prominent members of various coastal tribes. The occasion for a potlatch might be the host's claim to a title or some other symbol of rank, which he would assert by presenting gifts to hundreds of invited guests, from his own village and from surrounding communities. That claim would then be validated by the quality and quantity of the gifts he received in return-and the order in which he received them—at a subsequent potlatch given by another leader. Accumulating enough prized goods to stage a proper potlatch encouraged those of high rank to patronize people with special skills, such as carpenters.

Still sleek from the oil that it contained, a man-shaped bowl from Ozette is adorned with a lock of human hair. Vessels carved in hu man and animal shapes held whale and seal oil for the flavoring of dried and roasted fish.

By the sixteenth century, when part of Ozette was preserved for posterity by the mud slide, the Makah and other tribes of the Northwest had most likely evolved the sort of hierarchy that was described a few hundred years later by the first visitors from across the seas. The tribal leaders, or titleholders, were the heads of kinship groups. Below them stood the nobility, consisting of their sons, younger brothers, and other close relatives. Nobles might legitimately aspire to a leadership role, provided they inherited the right to a title and could amass sufficient wealth to demonstrate their worth. Commoners, who constituted the largest part of every group, could hold no such hopes, but they were still linked by kinship to their leader and could expect varying amounts of support from him, depending on the services they rendered. Brave warriors or master

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A replica of a cedar long house (left) copies the windowless plank-and-pole design of original buildings that were excavated at Ozette. Other Northwest Coast communities employed a similar architectural style, as shown in this eighteenth-century watercolor of the interior of a Nootka communal house (below). Under racks of drying salmon, members of the household gather to prepare a meal in a wooden cooking box.

Canoe makers were held in higher esteem than simple fishermen, for example.

Slaves occupied the lowest rung on the social ladder. The majority of them were women or children who had been taken in raids against other tribes; captured men were usually killed. Slaves performed menial work for their high-ranking owners, canying water and firewood and helping with the hunting and fishing. They were no more than property, subject to the whim of their masters; slaves might even be given away or killed to demonstrate the high standing of their master. Occasionally, a slave owner exercised his prerogative more mercifully, granting slaves freedom during a potlatch or some other ceremony.

Such was the profile of village life in the Northwest, garnered from the sites themselves and from the testimony of early witnesses. But not until Ozette divulged its secrets-and those secrets were interpreted in light of enduring Makah traditions-could the culture be appreciated in all its variety.

Ozette, at the time of its catastrophic mud slide, was a thriving example of this rich maritime tradition. Its two rows of houses, the cedar planks of their roofs and sides weathered a soft gray, stretched along a crescent beach that was sheltered from the full force of the Pacific Ocean by a reef as well as by small islands offshore. The houses were sixty to seventy feet long and about thirty-five feet wide. Each dwelling consisted of a heavy, permanent framework made

From hemlock posts, over which the residents laid cedar planks that were secured by flexible cedar withes in such a way that they overlapped like clapboards; when it came time for seasonal moves, the planks could be quickly removed and carried to another framework located elsewhere-in the vicinity of favored salmon fishing grounds, for example. The nearly level roofs of the buildings were painstakingly grooved to channel runoff and were held down either by rocks or by logs.

Jaws agape, a cavorting humpback whale breaks the surface off the Pacific Coast. More docile than the gray whale and yielding nearly twice as much oil, the humpback was a coveted prize for Northwest Indians.

The only openings to be found in the skin of a house were the door and a smoke and ventilation hole in the roof. During wet weather, a sliding wooden panel covered the roof hole, and a woven cedar mat might screen the door.

Towering over the houses were twenty-five-foot-high drying racks, which were festooned in the appropriate season with white strips of halibut—the fish that was most plentiful in local waters. The roof of each dwelling might also function as a fish-drying platform during sunny summer weather. Behind the houses stood a variety of specialized structures, including smokehouses for the preservation of fish and sheds for food storage. The shell-littered space between the houses was crisscrossed by an elaborate drainage system that channeled rainwater harmlessly through the village to the shore.

Inside the houses, raised platforms along the walls provided storage and sleeping space for as many as thirty people. These broad benches were made of cedar planks up to thirty inches wide, smoothed with a stone adz. At night, people spread mattresses of cattail reeds for sleeping, and warmed themselves with blankets woven from shredded cedar bark mixed with whatever soft materials were available-downy strips of bird skin, cattail fluff, or dog fur

The living arrangements were apparently dictated by status. The space directly opposite the door was the place of honor, reserved for the head of the household. The humblest commoners lived next to the en-

Trance. Each family could close off its space with plank walls or woven mats, according to their means. Within these family quarters, wooden chests were used to hold spare clothes, ceremonial regalia, fishing gear, and other personal property.

A haqjoon head created from a mussel shell remains in its cedar-bark sheath some 400 years after it was used by the whalers of Ozette. Imbedded in a whale, the harpoon heads trailed long ropes with attached sealskin floats that tired and slowed the animal so that it could be dispatched with a spear.

Cooking took place at family hearths, which were grouped in the center of the house. Fresh fish and meat were roasted on spits of cedar suspended over the fire. Alternatively, a mixture of ingredients-seafood seasoned with berries, for example—might be placed in a wooden box that had been filled with water. Stones hot from the fire were then dropped into the box, bringing the water to a boil. The stew was served in long, trough-shaped wooden dishes.

Partitions between family quarters came down for group activities such as feasting and dancing. On such occasions, hearth fires most likely provided a backdrop for the telling of tales, chanted to the beat of a drum and drawn from a storehouse of legends whose treasures were renewed by each successive generation, tn the winter, when most villagers stayed close to home, the houses became busy workshops. The women crafted baskets for every occasion: small, finely woven bags to hold fishing

A centuries-old mainstay of the Makah diet, filleted halibut are shown drying on towering racks at a summer encampment on Tatoosh island, off the coast of Washington State near Ozette. On sunny days the fish was air-dried, but in cold or rainy weather it was cured inside a smokehouse.

Gear, open-weave pouches for gathering shells and seaweed, or containers so tightly knit they could hold water and be used for cooking or storage. Most of the porous baskets were made from the softened inner bark of the cedar, pulled off in long strips the previous spring when the rising sap made it easy to peel. After they were dried in the sun, the strips were stored in bundles, then thinned and split into ribbons of the desired width, or beaten until they shredded; then they were rolled by the hand against the thigh to yield long, flexible yarns. Watertight baskets and rain hats were usually made from pliable spruce roots, which were washed, partly dried, and split into strips, then woven into a leakproof mesh.

Textiles ranged from heavy, handwoven cedar-bark mats-used as partitions or for wrapping cargo in canoes-to fine, loom-crafted blankets. Loom weaving was a prestigious skill, and some looms were themselves works of art, inlaid with shell and fish teeth. The finest Makah fabric was woven with fur from a special breed of dogs-short, woolly creatures raised expressly for shearing on a small island just offshore. Little time was spent making clothing, for the people were conditioned to the cool moist air and went nearly naked for much of the year. Men wore nothing but ornaments in good weather, while women wore skirts fashioned of animal hides or cedar-bark fabric. There was not even a word for sandals; the Makah went barefoot. When the rains came, they donned their tightly woven hats along with conical capes to shed the water.

The Makah men spent much of the winter making wooden tools and utensils and preparing for the hunting and fishing seasons. Like the weavers, they chose their materials carefully. Mussel shells made strong, sharp harpoon cutting blades, clamped between tough barbs of bone or antler; the composite heads were bound with cherry bark, which shrank when wet. The cedar yarns used in baskets could also be plaited into strong whaling ropes. Bowls for storing and serving food were carved from alder and ash, which had no strong resins that might flavor their contents. Heavy, dense yew was used for clubs, whaling harpoon shafts, and wood-splitting wedges.

Most men in the tribe were able to master the basic carpentry skills required for box making and house construction, but building graceful, seaworthy dugout canoes was a matter for specialists. Ozette obtained some of its canoes in trade from the Indians of Vancouver Island, who were renowned for designs that combined strength, speed, and maneuverability. Most Makah canoes, however, were built in the village-and were held in high enough regard that peoples to the south and east trad-

Following tradition, a Neah Bay carpenter uses an adz to shape the bottom of a cedar-log canoe. After hollowing out the log, the builder softened the wood with boiling water to mold the graceful contours of the hull.

Ed for them eagerly. The Makah built canoes in many sizes, ranging from short fishing craft for the use of a single paddler to whaling or war canoes measuring forty feet and longer. A relatively fragile boat was acceptable for travel on rivers or protected waters such as Puget Sound, but venturing into the open sea in search of whales required sturdier vessels that could stand up to a heavy swell.

Whatever its design, the basic construction principles of a canoe were the same. The builder began by felling a large red cedar in the depths of the forest, where the trees grew straight and knot free. He stripped it of branches and split it in half lengthwise with wedges driven by a stone maul. A crew of men then dragged the rough hull to the village beach, where the builder began working first on the round side, using an adz and wedges to shape the exterior of the canoe. Then he turned the log over and used the same tools to hollow out the interior. By the end of this laborious process, the bottom of the shell was about two fingers'

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A replica of a Makah whaling canoe holds Che essential tools of the hunt: diamondshaped paddles, a wooden harpoon, waterproof cedar-bark hats, a cedar-bough towline and its woven carrying basket, and sealskin floats used to buoy the whales as they were towed back to shore.

Width thick, tapering to a single finger thickness at the top rim. Next, the craftsman filled the canoe with water, which he brought to a boil by adding hot rocks; fires kindled nearby heated the exterior. When the wood had been suitably softened by the wet heat, he widened the canoe by bending the sides outward and installing thwarts across the interior.

Most of the seagoing canoes were fitted with high bow and stern pieces for protection against waves. The builder carved these pieces so precisely that when he secured them with cedar dowels or spruce-branch lashings, the fit was watertight without caulking. Long strips of cedar were attached to the rim of the canoe at either side to form gunwales. The builder then finished the canoe by sanding and polishing it with rough sharkskin and adding whatever decora-tions-carvings, paintings, or inlays-were appropriate to its purpose and the owner's status.

When the buffeting storms of winter gave way to the calm weather of spring, the Makah emerged from their long houses to begin restocking their larders. Some of the families moved to summer residences closer to salmon runs or other seasonal resources, taking their house planks along with them. The planks were lashed across two large canoes to form wide, stable catamarans, atop which each family proceeded pile all its household goods-mats and baskets, tools and fishing gear, clothing, ceremonial masks, and food-before squeezing into the canoes and paddling off to the summer base.

At summer camps and the main village, the people inaugurated the season's harvest of aquatic riches. The Makah word for food is the same as the word for fish, testimony to their dependence on the ocean and its inlets. Women and girls would comb the beaches and rocks at low tide, gathering clams, mussels, octopuses, sea urchins, and numerous other shelled creatures. Paddling to offshore banks, the men would haul in

A fan of spruce tied in his hair, a whaler splashes in a chilly pool to spiritually prepare for the hunt. Part of the cleansing ritual involved rubbing the body with hemlock twigs in order to rid it of human taint.

Large numbers of halibut with U-shaped hooks on kelp lines. Throughout the summer months, it might also be possible for them to catch Chinook or coho salmon by trolling in the ocean. On bountiful days, thousands of pounds of fish poured into Ozette and its subsidiary camps. Some of it would be eaten fresh, stewed, or roasted; the rest would be filleted and hung on the tall racks to dry.

The beaches, woods, and bogs located around Ozette also were rich sources of foodstuffs that contributed to the diet of the villagers. Women gathered such delicacies as salmonberries, huckleberries, blueberries, cranberries, and strawberries to sweeten their fish stews. The roots of plants and grasses were either steamed or baked in the community's pit ovens. In addition, the forest supplied the settlers with all of the medicines that they needed; a tonic tea of thimbleberry leaves, a toothache cure from salmonberry bark, a poultice of chewed hemlock used to stanch bleeding.

As important as these items were to the Makah, however, the tribe devoted its greatest effort to the pursuit of migratory sea animals. The favorite food of the Makah was the dark, lean meat taken from the northern fur seals, which made their way past Ozette during the month of April, pausing at a feeding ground located just three miles offshore. Lookouts perched atop the rocky islet off the village beach, watching intently for the appearance of the seals. As soon as the sentinels spotted their quarry, they would signal the hunters, who then embarked in their twenty-five-foot canoes, each of them paddled by three or four men.

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Approaching the herd in silence and communicating only by hand signals, they watched for sleeping seals floating on their backs. After identifying the unsuspecting prey, the bowman thrust with his long harpoon, which had a cedar-bark rope attached to its head that was tied to two inflated floats made of sealskins. The floats helped to tire the wounded animals, which the paddlers then drew next to the boat and dispatched with a club. So numerous were the seals that they soon filled the canoes; the hunters frequently had to gut them at sea in order to make room for more without swamping the boats.

When hunters dumped the seal carcasses on the beach before hurrying back out to sea, the women began the laborious job of preserving the catch. With practiced hands, they cut the meat into long strips for smoking, and rendered the blubber by boiling it in water-filled canoes and wooden boxes. As the blubber cooked, it released its oil, which the women skimmed off the surface and poured into storage containers that had been made from the tanned stomachs or bladders of sea lions; the oil thus preserved would be used later as a sauce for various dishes.

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Given the abundance of fur seal, the Makah paid less attention to other species. However, hair seals that lived in sea caves near Ozette sometimes made up a part of the villagers' diet. The technique employed for capturing these creatures was altogether different. Since a canoe attempting to enter a cave was liable to be smashed against the rocks by the surf, the hunters swam in. To illuminate the caves, they twisted their long hair into topknots that held spruce sticks that had been saturated with pitch. Once inside, a hunter ignited his headlamp with a glowing coal carried inside a hinged shell. The blinded seals scarcely budged from their perches as the hunters scaled the rocks to club them to death.

Whale migrations also began in early spring, but took place farther out to sea than the passage of the fur seals. Gray whales, sperm whales, humpbacks, and right whales bound for the Arctic all did their part to make Ozette one of the most important whaling villages on the coast. Unlike seal hunting, which was open to any Makah man with the requisite skill and strength, whaling was a restricted activity, bound up in wealth and rank. Only leaders and their sons could harpoon whales, and to ensure the purity of the lineage, their only suitable spouses were the daughters of other whalers.

The hunters entered into a cycle of purification rituals long before the first of their prey appeared off the coast. In order to win the cooperation of the whale spirits, the chief whaler and his wife followed a strict regi men, including icy baths in secret prayer pools under the waxing moon, sexual abstinence, and a diet free of the meat of land animals. The whaler's crew was expected to take up a similar ritual a few days or so before the hunt. A difficult or unsuccessful hunt signified improper conduct in some stage of the preparations.

More than 700 sea otter teeth decorate this cedar replica of a whale dorsal fin excavated at Ozette. Presumably a commemorative whaling trophy, the ejfigy bears the motif of a thunderbird, a creature reputedly able to cany off a whale in its talons, and the image of the thunderbird’s helper, a doubleheaded serpent that represents lightning.

When the hunters finally set out m pursuit of their quarry, the women still had a role to play. The wife of the chief whaler, in particular, had to act out the bond that was thought to exist between her and the whale. She took to her bed, lying immobile in the manner of a docile whale willing to surrender itself to the hunters. She could get up only when she received word that her husband had struck a whale. That news was conveyed by messengers who followed in a canoe close behind the hunters and picked up the harpoon shaft after it broke free of the spearhead lodged in the quarry. The messengers then paddled back to the village ahead of the others, carrying the shaft to the chief whaler's household, where it would stand in honor over his bed.

When the successful hunters beached their catch back at the village, everyone joined in celebration. Songs and speeches praised the whalers and their chief-now adorned, like his prize, with eagle down. The leader claimed for himself the first special cut from around the dorsal fin. Then he doled out six-foot-long slices of blubber to the rest of the villagers, honoring the nobles before the rest. A successful whale hunt brought the community a wealth of oil, bone, and meat. But more than that, it affirmed that the people and their leaders were pursuing the rewards of nature in the proper spirit, and that their age-old compact with the sea and its creatures remained unbroken.

THE W H A L E H U H T E R S 165

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