These stories were told to entertain us and, at times, to frighten us into good behavior; but no tale she ever told us scared me half as much as something that happened during my eleventh year. This tale was told to me by Ootek, my father’s brother, and it was all the more frightening because he insisted that it was true. Now, I never believed him, of course, at least not until a year later when he took me out onto the ice and showed me the fire-blackened hull of the big wooden sailing ship from the south. Then, in my twelve-year-old wisdom, I allowed as how some of his tale might have an element of truth in it . . . but not much. I was young and didn’t know much, I admit. I understand now that I no doubt didn’t want to believe what I heard, but I will tell you the tale as it was told to me, more than sixty winters ago, and you can judge for yourself. In fact, we are within a two-day journey of the old ship, so if you would like, I could take you there to see it. I remember food was scarce that year, as it often is for the People.
