he ship, great numbers
of the natives came off in their canoes to trade, headed by two sons of
Wicananish. As they brought abundance of sea-otter skins, and there was
every appearance of a brisk trade, Captain Thorn did not wait for
the return of Mr. M'Kay, but spread his wares upon the deck, making a
tempting display of blankets, cloths, knives, beads, and fish-hooks,
expecting a prompt and profitable sale. The Indians, however, were
not so eager and simple as he had supposed, having learned the art of
bargaining and the value of merchandise from the casual traders along
the coast. They were guided, too, by a shrewd old chief named Nookamis,
who had grown gray in traffic with New England skippers, and prided
himself upon his acuteness. His opinion seemed to regulate the market.
When Captain Thorn made what he considered a liberal offer for an
otter-skin, the wily old Indian treated it with scorn, and asked more
than double. His comrades all took their cue from him, and not an
otter-skin was to be had at a reasonable rate.

The old fellow, however, overshot his mark, and mistook the character of
the man he was treating with. Thorn was a plain, straightforward sailor,
who never had two minds nor two prices in his dealings, was deficient in
patience and pliancy, and totally wanting in the chicanery of traffic.
He had a vast deal of stern but honest pride in his nature, and,
moreover, held the whole savage race in sovereign contempt. Abandoning
all further attempts, therefore, to bargain with his shuffling
customers, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and paced up and down
the deck in sullen silence. The cunning old Indian followed him to and
fro, holding out a sea-otter skin to him at every turn, and pestering
him to trade. Finding other means unavailing, he suddenly changed his
tone, and began to jeer and banter him upon the mean prices he offered.
This was too much for the patience of the captain, who was never
remarkable for relishing a joke, especially when at his own expense.
Turning suddenly upon his persecutor, he snatched the proffered
otter-skin from his hands, rubbed it in his face, and dismissed him
over the side of the ship with no very complimentary application to
accelerate his exit. He then kicked the peltries to the right and left
about the deck, and broke up the market in the most ignominious manner.
Old Nookamis made for shore in a furious passion, in which he was
joined by Shewish, one of the sons of