ST. MICHAEL'S AND SAN FRANCISCO.
St. Michael's is the usual port for the Yukon, though seventy miles
from its mouth. The Russians had a fort and garrison at this place
before they sold the territory to the United States, and since then
the commercial companies have had posts here. The chief part of the
population, however, consists of Eskimos.
These people are very expert in carving. From stone they make axes,
lamps, skin-scrapers and many other implements; and from bone, and
especially from the walrus and mammoth ivory, they carve many things,
among them polished pipes. These pipes are evidently modelled after
the opium pipes of the East, with a peculiar shaped bowl having only a
very small cavity in it, and a long stem. They are ornamented with many
figures scratched on the ivory with a sharp knife, and then colored by
having charcoal and grease rubbed into the scratches; these figures,
of which there may be several hundred on a single pipe, represent the
Eskimo in his daily occupations, especially his hunting of deer, wolf,
and whale, his dancing in the _kashim_, or his travelling in his kayak.
[Illustration: ESKIMO HOUSES AT ST. MICHAEL'S.]
[Illustration: A NATIVE DOORWAY.]
Strolling around the village, and peering into the _barabarras_, or
private houses, I ran across an old savage who was handling an object
which immediately attracted my attention; when he saw my curiosity he
explained by signs that it was an apparatus for making fire, and at my
request he actually performed the feat. It was the old plan of rubbing
two sticks of wood together, such as we have often read that savages
do; yet I had never known any one who knew exactly how it was done,
although as a boy I had often worn myself out in vain endeavors to make
fire in this way. So far as I know, no one had ever satisfactorily
explained how the Alaskan natives get their fire, one writer having
even supposed that they brought it from volcanoes in the first place;
and from the extraordinary care which they take in preserving hot coals
and often in carrying them considerable distances, one does not often
see them in the process of obtaining a new supply.
The apparatus which I saw here used was simple and ingenious.
In a thoroughly dry stick of spruce were cut a number of little
grooves,--this was the wood destined to catch fire. The other piece of
wood was a rounded stick of some very hard variety, which the Eskimo
told me was picked up in the driftwood along the shore: it was very
likely a foreign wood. The point of the hard stick was set upright in
one of the grooves of the soft dry piece and by means of a leather
thong was made to revolve rapidly in it, the hard upright piece being
kept in place by a stone socket set in a piece of wood, which was held
in the mouth of the operator. After vigorously twirling the stick by
means of the thong for about a minute the soft wood began to smoke; a
moment afterwards a faint spark was visible. Then the Eskimo stopped
revolving the stick and heaping all the fine dust of the soft wood
which had been worn off by the grinding on the spark, and blew it
carefully till it grew to larger dimensions; then he placed a blade of
dry grass on the spark, and, blowing again, it burst into flame. The
whole process had lasted about three minutes. The old man explained
also that in boring the holes in stone, bone or ivory, they used the
same device, employing a stone drill instead of the wooden stick.
There was great commotion among the natives at St. Michael's the
morning after we arrived, and the men all dragged their kayaks into the
water and getting into them paddled out into the harbor, where a number
of small whales were seen disporting themselves. When they neared the
school the men separated, and when a whale would sound they spread
themselves out so as to be nearly at the spot where he should come
up. Each man had several of the light spears they used for capturing
fish; these weapons are perhaps three and a half feet long, and weigh
about a pound, the shaft being slender and of light wood and the tip
of a barbed piece of bone. To each of these they had fastened by a
long thong, as they were paddling out, a blown-up bladder. As soon
as a whale rose the Eskimo who happened to be near sent his little
spear with great force deeply into its flesh. The wound was of course
insignificant, and the animal, taking alarm, sank into the water
again; but when after some time he was forced to return to the surface,
he encountered several hunters again, and received several more spears
with attached bladders. This time the buoyancy of the bladders made
it difficult for him to sink, and he rose soon afterwards, only to be
filled with so many spears that the bladders kept him from sinking at
all; then the natives drew near and with all kinds of weapons cut and
slashed and worried the creature till he finally gave up from loss of
blood, and died. Then he was towed ashore amid great excitement and
with rejoicing, not only by the hunters, but by the women, children and
old men who flocked down to the beach as it came in.
The next thing was to cut up and divide the carcass, and this was done
thoroughly, everybody in the village coming in for a share. Nothing was
wasted. Even the blood was carefully saved and divided, and the sinews
were given to the women, who would dry and make them into threads for
sewing. Soon all the fires in the village were burning, and the smell
of boiling whale-flesh came from many pots, into which the women
peered expectantly. One old lady whom I noticed doing this showed in
her dress some of the effects of civilization, which is a rare thing
with the Eskimo, as they dress by preference in their squirrel or
muskrat-skin parkas; her flowing garment was made of flour-sacks sewn
together, and one might read the legend, inscribed many times and
standing in many attitudes, that the wearer (presumably) was Anchor
Brand.
St. Michael's is made up of volcanic rock, and has been lifted from
the sea in recent geologic times. The natives know this, and say that
they find lines of driftwood marking the ancient limit of the waves,
at places far above where the highest water now reaches; on the other
hand, they say that the island has been thrice submerged since the
memory of man. Out of the general swampy level of the land around the
village rise, further back, broken cones with old craters at their
tops; these were very likely under the level of the sea when they were
active. We had time to spend a few days wandering over this country,
climbing through the rocky craters, and looking down on the numberless
swamp lakes which cover the southeast side of the island. One day,
however, we received sudden word that the steamer on which we had
engaged passage was about to sail, and we hurried on board. That night
we were far out on Behring Sea, tossing in a strong wind which soon
increased to a terrific gale.
[Illustration: THE CAPTURED WHALE.]
We lay several days "hove to" in this gale, with oil casks over the
bows to break the great waves which threatened more than once to
smash us and often seemed about to roll us over and over. Finally,
however, it quieted enough to let the seasick ones drop asleep, while
the sailors made things taut again, and before long we were in harbor
at the island of Unalaska--one of the great chain of Aleutian islands
which reaches from America to Asia, and the chief stopping point for
nearly all boats between the Yukon mouth and the coast of the United
States proper. Unalaska is a country of chaotically wild scenery.
The streams in turn meander over level benches and then tumble in
waterfalls over steep cliffs to the next bench, and so on till they
reach the sea; such a cataract we saw on the right as we entered the
harbor.
In the village here we found the Aleuts semi-civilized from their long
contact with white men, for here the Russians held direct control long
before the territory was sold to the United States; they live in neat
wooden houses, and if one peeps in by night he may even see here and
there lace curtains and rocking-chairs.
Seventeen days after leaving St. Michael's we finally reached San
Francisco. It was a clear, fine Sunday when we passed through the
Golden Gate, tingling with excitement which we had felt since seeing
the first land on the California coast. The sight of the multitude of
houses on the hillside, the smoke of the city, the craft of all kinds
going back and forth, had in it something very strange and discomposing
for us. It was only when the ship was at the dock, and we had gone
ashore, that we realized, from the way the curious crowd formed a
circle around us and stared in open-mouthed wonder, that our appearance
was unusual for a city. We had not taken much baggage through the
Yukon country, and our camp clothes were very shabby. None of us had
had opportunity to have hair and beard trimmed since we left--with the
result that we had a mane reaching to the shoulders and fierce bushy
buccaneer whiskers, inches deep all around. Two of us wore ancient high
leather boots and the third wore a kind of moccasin. We all had heavy
"mackinaw" trousers of blanket-cloth, with belted coats of the same
material, while coarse flannel shirts and dilapidated felt hats, burned
with the sparks of many a camp-fire and seamed with the creases of many
a night's sleep, completed our costume.
Finding the attention of the crowd embarrassing, we took a carriage
for the Grand Hotel, and as we were driving through the streets I
noticed that if one so much as caught a glimpse of our faces through
the carriage window, he would turn and stare after the cab till it was
out of sight. It was Sunday afternoon, and the streets were filled with
smartly dressed men and women. For our part, the sight of all this
correct and conventional dressing made a disagreeable impression on us,
after so long a period of free and easy life; the white collars and
cuffs of the men, in particular, obtruded themselves on my attention
and irritated me.
We had left our "store clothes" in Seattle and had to telegraph to
get them. It took a couple of days for this, and in the meantime we
had only to wait. We had been looking forward to going to the theatre
as soon as we should arrive in San Francisco, and when our clothes did
not arrive, were disappointed, till we suddenly braced up in defiance
of the whole city, and said, "Let's go anyhow." We had not had time to
get our hair and beard trimmed, and our costume was in all respects the
same as when we left Circle City, but we sallied out bravely. We were
late at the theatre, and the play had already begun; it was a popular
one, and the only seats left were some in the "bald-headed" row.
Although we had by this time the idea forced on us that our appearance
was unusual, we were by no means prepared for the commotion which we
brought about, as we walked up the broad aisle to our seats. There was
a hum and a sizzle of whispers throughout the house, which changed to
laughter and exclamations; and the actors on the stage, catching sight
of us, got "rattled" and forgot to go on. Up in the peanut gallery
the gods began to indulge in catcalls and make personal inquiries. We
hurried to our seats to escape this storm, and meeting an usher thrust
our tickets into his hand. He looked at us with a puzzled air and a
broad grin, as if he thought it all some huge joke, but we were getting
nervous, and gave him a glare which made him indicate our seats for us.
The audience evidently believed we were part of the show; many were
standing by this time, waiting to see what the next would be, but after
a while the buzz subsided and the play went on. There was a constant
current of conversation about us, however; behind us a young fellow was
excitedly asking his companion "Who are they, who are they?" "Don't
know," said the other. "Sailors, I guess."
After a while we felt like returning to the solitude of our hotel
rooms; the play, too, did not please us, so in the middle of an act we
got up, and having remarked very audibly "Dis is a rotten show," we
went. As we started down the aisle the commotion grew louder than ever,
and we slipped quickly out and down a side street.
FINIS.
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Hyphen removed: "network" (p. 123), "sawmill" (p. 130), "Thronduc" (p.
106).
Hyphen added: "wood-box" (p. 73).
Both "nigger-head" and "niggerhead" are used and have not been changed.
P. 13: "comtemplate" changed to "contemplate" (contemplate in their
suddenly awakened fancies).
P. 18: "synonomous" changed to "synonymous" (he used it as synonymous
with "tenderfeet").
P. 93: "bottow" changed to "bottom" (the bottom of the scow).
P. 183: "caribon" changed to "caribou" (he had shot three bears, seven
caribou, and a moose).
P. 222: "read" changed to "reap" (reap the benefits of his discoveries).