We found Shega quite composed, and attending her little sister, between whose eyebrows she had made a spot with soot, which I learned was because, being unweaned, it must certainly die.  During the night my little charge called on its mother without intermission, yet the father slept as soundly until morning as if nothing had happened.

“All who saw my patient on the morning of the 25th gave me great hopes; she could swallow easily, and was even strong enough to turn or sit upright without assistance, and in the forenoon slept very soundly.  At noon, the sister of the deceased, Ootooguak, with her husband and son, came to visit me.  She had first gone to the Fury, and was laughing on deck, and, at her own request, was taken below, not caring to hurry herself to come to the house of mourning.  Even when she came to the Hecla she was in high spirits, laughing and capering on deck as if nothing had happened; but, on being shown to my cabin, where Shega, having heard of her arrival, was sitting crying in readiness, she began with her niece to howl most wofully.  I, however, put a stop to this ceremony, for such it certainly was, under the plea of disturbing the child.  The arrival of a pot of smoking walrus-flesh soon brought smiles on all faces but that of Takkeelikkeeta, who refused food and sat sighing deeply; the others ate, chatted, and laughed as if nothing but eating was worth thinking of.  Dinner being over, I received thanks for burying the woman in such a way that ’neither wolves, dogs, nor foxes could dig her up and eat her,’ for all were full of the story of Keimooseuk, and even begged some of our officers to go to Igloolik and shoot the offending dogs.  A young woman named Ablik, sister to Ooyarra, was induced, after much entreaty and a very large present of beads, to offer her breast to the sick child, but the poor little creature pushed it angrily away.  Another woman was asked to do the same; but, although her child was half weaned, she flatly refused.

“The aunt of my little one seeming anxious to remain, and Shega being now alone, I invited her to stop the night.  In the evening the child took meat and jelly, and sat up to help itself, but it soon after resumed its melancholy cry for its mother.  At night my party had retired to sleep; yet I heard loud sighing occasionally, and, on lifting the curtain, I saw Takkeelikkeeta standing and looking mournfully at his child.  I endeavoured to compose him, and he promised to go to bed; but, hearing him again sighing in a few minutes, I went and found the poor infant was dead, and that its father had been some time aware of it.  He now told me it had seen its mother the last time it called on her, and that she had beckoned it to Khil-la (Heaven), on which it instantly died.  He said it was ‘good’ that the child was gone; that no children outlived their mothers; and that the black spot, which Shega had frequently renewed, was quite sufficient to ensure the death of the infant.