LIFE AT AN ARCTIC MISSION
The first thing to be undertaken after the _Chimo_ was safely
moored in her snug berth was the removal of Gerald Hamer to the
little log hospital that was the pride of the doctor’s heart. This
was accomplished without any danger from exposure by means of a
canvas-covered litter especially constructed for the occasion. To be
undressed for the first time in many days, given a warm bath, and
placed in a bed that was actually spread with sheets was to be so
“lapped in luxury” that, as the sick man whispered to Phil, any one who
wouldn’t get well under such conditions deserved to die.
The second duty was the burial of poor Martin, for whom a grave was
already prepared in the quaint little cemetery of the settlement. The
rude coffin was borne by his late shipmates, and the entire community
of Anvik, natives as well as whites, followed the body to its place of
final rest. Never had Phil been so impressed with the solemn beauty of
the Episcopal service as when he listened to its grand utterances amid
the surroundings of that wild Northern land. The low-hanging sun, the
moan of the wintry wind through the sombre forest, the attentive groups
of dark-skinned natives, the mighty river rolling its tawny flood at
their feet, and the encircling solitudes, vast, silent, and mysterious,
centring at that simple grave, combined to form a picture that none of
its spectators will ever forget.
When all was over the living left the dead with the dead, and returned
to their homes. Even Phil and Serge declined, on the plea of utter
weariness, the proffered hospitality of the mission for that night, and
went back to their own quarters aboard the _Chimo_, where for the next
twenty-four hours they slept almost without intermission.
Then they were ready for anything, and when they again presented
themselves at the mission, clad in new suits taken from the steamer’s
ample trade stock, the ladies found it difficult to realize that these
handsome, wide-awake young fellows were the same who, heavy-eyed,
unkempt, and ready to drop with exhaustion, had brought the _Chimo_ to
port two days before.
Nor did it seem to the boys that they could be in the same place, for
while they slept the river had frozen completely over, a fall of snow
had infolded all nature in its spotless mantle, and now the whole
world lay sparkling in unclouded sunlight. If they were amazed at the
change in the aspect of the mission they were also delighted with the
missionary’s house, which they now entered for the first time. Not
since leaving far-away New London had either of them seen anything to
compare with the prettiness and comfort displayed in this wilderness
house on the verge of arctic Alaska.
There were books, magazines, and pictures, rugs and potted ferns, a
small organ, luxurious divans and easy-chairs, a museum of native
curios, and many other noticeable objects of use or ornament. In an
immense fireplace a cheery blaze roared and crackled, and before it a
fine big cat purred forth his content. In the eyes of the boys there
was nothing lacking to the perfection of this interior. And yet it was
all very simple and inexpensive. Most of the furniture was home-made,
the divans were cushioned with feathers from native wild-fowl, and the
rugs were trophies from neighboring forest or waters.
The missionary’s family consisted of his wife, the doctor, a young lady
teacher, and a white man who had charge of the saw-mill. Besides these
there were a few bright native boys and girls who were under special
instruction.
While the lads chatted with the ladies and marvelled at their
surroundings one of the native boys was seen approaching the house,
whereupon its mistress, saying, “Ah! there comes the mail,” went to the
door. “Nothing but the paper,” she announced on her return; “but we
shall at least learn the latest news.”
“I had no idea that you had a mail service in the winter,” remarked
Phil, innocently, “nor that there was a paper published in this part of
the world.”
“Oh, dear, no! It isn’t published here,” laughed the missionary’s wife.
“It is a New York paper, and only a weekly at that; still it is better
than none, and being of this week’s date its news is quite recent. See?”
So saying she held out the paper for Phil’s inspection, and to his
amazement he saw that it was indeed a New York paper bearing the date
of October 20th. Not until Serge, to whom this harmless deception was
an old story, broke out with the laughter he could no longer restrain
did it flash into Phil’s mind that the paper was a year old, and then
he could have thumped himself for his stupidity.
“You see,” explained the missionary’s wife, “we only receive mail once
or twice a year, and then we get such a quantity of papers that we
cannot possibly read them all at once. So we lay them aside, and have
them delivered one at a time on their regular dates, by which means we
receive two or three newspapers every week during the year.”
“What a capital idea!” exclaimed Phil.
“Isn’t it? And it is such good training for the boys, who are allowed
to act as postmen. Then, too, we use the papers in school in place of
reading-books, and so have fresh topics with which to interest the
scholars every week. On this account our reading-class is so popular
that it has nearly outgrown the capacity of our school-room; but,
thanks to Captain Hamer, we are to have a new one in the spring.”
“Indeed! Is he going to build you one?”
“He is already having it built, and it is to serve as your
winter-quarters so long as you remain with us, after which it is to be
presented to the mission.”
This was so interesting a bit of news that the boys must visit the
hospital at once and learn what plans the leader of their expedition
had made. They found him so far recovered as already to take an
interest in his surroundings, and able to talk freely with them. He
told them that with a view to the future needs of the school the new
building was to be forty feet long by twenty wide, though for the sake
of present warmth and comfort it was to be divided into several small
sleeping-rooms, a large living-room for the use of the _Chimo’s_ crew,
and a store-room for such goods as it was deemed best to remove from
the steamer for safer keeping.
“In it,” explained the captain, “we will make ourselves as comfortable
as possible for the winter, and in the spring we will push on for the
diggings. With the four hundred miles’ start we have got, thanks to you
boys, we ought to reach them in time to do a rattling business before
the company’s boats get there.”
“But how about going out by way of Chilkat for your next year’s supply
of goods?” queried Phil.
“Oh, that plan must be given up, of course, and I must make up my mind
to sacrifice a year’s business for the fun I’ve had with the measles.
The trip from here in the dead of winter would be a tough one for the
strongest of men, for it must be all of two thousand miles. It will
easily take me the rest of the winter to regain strength enough to go
on with the boat in the spring, so there’s no use thinking of that trip
now. I’ll manage to send you boys out somehow next summer, which is the
nearest I can come to keeping my contract with you. In the meantime,
while I am sorry for your disappointment, I am very glad of your
company and services.”
“You don’t think, then, that it would be possible for us to go out
this winter by way of Forty Mile and the coast and make our way to
the Sound, or even to San Francisco, and order your goods for you?”
suggested Phil, in whose mind this wild scheme had suddenly assumed
shape.
“You two inexperienced boys!” exclaimed the captain, amazed at the
audacity of the proposition. “Certainly not. Why, I don’t believe
either of you knows how to use snow-shoes, or to drive a team of dogs,
or has the least idea of what fifty below zero means.”
“I think I know,” said Serge.
“Which?”
“All of those things,” replied the young Russo-American.
“You know more than I do, then, or ever expect to, for I have never
driven a dog-team. As for Phil here, I am certain that he knows nothing
about any one of the three.”
“I believe I could learn,” said the boy from New London, “and I know
I’d be glad of the chance.”
“Well, you can study those things right here, and while you are
learning what fifty below zero means you’ll be glad enough to have a
well-warmed house near by in which to study the results of your lesson.
You’ll find plenty to occupy your time in this immediate vicinity for
the next few months. So don’t think any more of the crazy scheme you
have just proposed, for I can’t possibly give my consent to it. If I
should thus lose sight of you I should spend the rest of my days in
mortal terror of meeting Mr. John Ryder and having him demand to know
what I had done with his boy. Now I shall have to ask you to leave me
for a while, as I am too tired to talk any more.”
As soon as the boys were outside Phil asked, “How do you drive dogs,
Serge? Do you have lines to each one, or only to the leader?”
“You don’t drive them with lines at all,” laughed the other. “Nor do
you go near them. You sometimes run beside the sledge, but generally
behind it, so as to push on the handle-bar over obstructions, or to
hang on and hold back in going down steep places. From there you talk
to the dogs, and encourage them with a whip of walrus-hide or seal-skin
that has a handle about sixteen inches long and a lash of about
eighteen feet. To produce the slightest effect on your team you must be
able to crack that lash with a report like a pistol-shot in either ear
of any dog, or to fleck any one of them on any designated part of the
body. You must also learn the language that your dogs are accustomed
to, for they will pay no attention to any other.”
“And are snow-shoes a necessity?”
“Certainly they are, for without them you would often sink out of
sight in drifts, while even in soft snow of moderate depth they are
indispensable.”
“Well,” sighed Phil, “it seems as though one had to learn a great deal
before he can travel far in this country; but I suppose if others have,
I can. So let’s go and borrow a pair of snow-shoes and have a lesson
at once. I suppose I might as well begin the Eskimo whip-practice and
dog-language, too; for with such a long journey ahead of us we mustn’t
waste any more time than is absolutely necessary on preliminaries.”
“What long journey?” asked Serge.
“Our journey up the river to Forty Mile, and so on to Chilkat, of
course. You didn’t imagine we were going to loaf here all winter, did
you?”
“But the captain won’t give his consent.”
“Oh, we’ll manage that. Besides, we’ve got to get to Sitka some time,
you know, or our parents will be getting anxious about us.”