156 A YEAR WITH] A^ WHALER 



day. Mr. Winchester, who headed the boat, 

 was a good hand with a shotgun and brought 

 back a fine bag. One of the ducks, knocked 

 over on the wing, dropped within a few feet 

 of shore. When we rowed to pick it up, I 

 touched Siberia with an oar. I felt that it was 

 a sort of handshake with the Asiatic continent. 

 I never landed and never got any nearer. 



In a little while, most of us had traded for a 

 number of nicely tanned hair-seal skins and had 

 set the Eskimo women and girls to work tailor- 

 ing trousers and vests and coats. It was mar- 

 velous how dextrous they were at cutting and 

 sewing. They took no measurements and yet 

 their garments fitted rather snugly. Before 

 they began sewing they softened the edges of 

 the skins by chewing them. They wore their 

 thimble on their index finger and drove the 

 needle into one side of the skins and jerked it 

 through from the other side with such amazing 

 rapidity that the two movements seemed one. 

 A good seamstress — and all seemed remarkably 

 expert — could cut and sew a pair of trousers in 

 an hour, a bit of work it would have taken a 



