appearance. It had been duly incorporated as a city. About a mile of the
principal streets had been boarded over (a great improvement), though at
that time, in front of our hotel, the horses sank belly-deep in muck
and mud as of yore. The banner sign, "City Morgue," had now assumed more
modest proportions; people who had wintered at Nome looked strong and
well; and the doctors somewhat plaintively said that the camp had been
"disgustingly healthy." The majority of the deaths were those of too
venturesome, or poorly equipped, travelers or prospectors who had
perished from cold. But the average individual who had spent the winter
there had lived very comfortably, with plenty of good things to eat and
drink, and I was informed that the place had been very gay "socially."
Some were in fine feather, others hopeful, and but few discouraged.
One of the characters then at Nome, known and unmistakable from the
Klondike down, was "Mother" Woods, in her sunbonnet, abbreviated
skirts, and "mukluks" or native sealskin boots. A woman of middle age,
she had participated in almost every gold stampede, enduring as much as
a man; and she swore like a trooper. But in the winter she had nursed
and cared for the sick and frozen with the greatest tenderness, it was
said; in recognition of which a voluntary contribution had been made to
enable her to appeal a case which in the court below had gone contrary
to her mining interests. I had, of course, heard of "Scotch verdicts";
but during the winter months the Nome public had coined an expression
new to me in referring to the "Scotch whisky decisions"; and, without
regard to the possible ancestry of the learned court, it was a
lamentable fact that its Scotch had been potent in making a rye
business of justice.
W---- was heading for Solomon River,--about thirty miles distant on the
coast east of Nome,--and, believing that he had a good opportunity to
reach it with some friends on the _Ruth_, a steam-schooner, he gladly
pulled out from Nome on the 27th of June, while we wished him the wealth
of "King Solomon's mines."
The days passed by; the inhospitable weather continued; and still there
was no certainty of getting into Golovin Bay to travel up the streams to
Council City. It was becoming a rather serious matter, and it would have
been natural for my partner to suppose that I either had been prevented
from coming altogether or had been indefinitely delayed by some mishap.
I had seen all the people I cared to see, was heartily sick of the
town, and the Gold Hill Hotel, thinly partitioned and put up on the
cardboard plan, was not running a very effective heating-plant.
One day there shuffled uninvited into the room, a trifle in his cups, a
miserable-looking individual who announced that he was "Uncle Billy" and
that everybody knew him, and then proceeded to jabber his tale of woe.
He didn't explain how or why it had happened, but merely whimpered that
he had been "shot to pieces" during the winter. By way of illustration,
and to prove this statement, after pointing to one useless arm he went
down into his pocket, and pulling out a "poke" (miner's pocket-book),
emptied from it a large-sized bullet and a considerable piece of bone,
adding, with attempted humor, that it wasn't everybody who carried his
bones about with him in that way. It seemed that he was being made to do
menial work in the kitchen, whereas he was really a millionaire, to
substantiate which this delightful person again resorted to his wardrobe
and drew forth a number of crumpled and dirty mining papers. Appearing
on the scene soon after I had finished reading in "The Crisis" of "Uncle
Billy" (General Sherman), this pitiful result of one battle made an
impression by contrast.
The popular saloons and gambling-houses were crowded, but the stakes
were low (for mining operations had not yet begun, and "dust" was not
coming into camp), and probably half of the attendance was due to the
warmth of these places. All the games were going--roulette, vingt-et-un,
faro, poker, stud-poker, Klondike, and craps. There was usually a
platform in the rear supporting a piano and a phonograph, and serving as
a stage from which sirens would torture the popular ballads, whose agony
penetrated the street.
I should have enjoyed attending the sessions of the court, but the judge
and court staff were then on the high seas, going to hold a short term
at St. Michaels, pursuant to law. In a more or less desperate attempt to
fill in the tedious waiting-time, A---- and I one evening sought
amusement at the "Standard Theater." The entertainment was not
calculated to delight delicate sensibilities.
The glorious Fourth was appropriately celebrated by ample decoration
with the flag throughout the town and a very creditable parade, which,
headed by a company of sturdy regulars from the neighboring military
post, was followed by an A1 fire-engine drawn by fine horses, three
uniformed hose companies, and a score of lively little school-children.
Such are the enterprise and conquering spirit of our people!
VII
UP THE STREAMS--AN EVENING AT JOHNSON'S CAMP
By this time it was certain that Golovin Bay was open. The Klondikers
and Yukoners, a sturdy lot of earnest men and not looking a bit starved,
were pouring into town from St. Michaels, and the report came that ships
at the northwest were unloading at Teller and Grantley Harbor. Nothing
loath, I got away from Nome in the evening of July 5 on the small
steamer _Elmore_, which I did not remember with especial relish. The
floor accommodations had meantime been supplanted by bunks, and the
trip to Golovin Bay, which we reached the following afternoon, was not
half bad. Just before anchoring, we came alongside of the _Ruth_, which
lay there absolutely helpless, her steering-gear smashed beyond
redemption. Much surprised to see W---- on the derelict, I reached over
and shook his hand, and then heard his little tale of woe. When he had
left Nome, nine days before, it was too rough to land freight at Solomon
River, and, having a number of passengers and considerable freight
aboard for Golovin Bay, the _Ruth_ had proceeded thither, only to run
into the ice, smash her rudder, and be almost capsized by the powerful
outgoing floes while held tight in the ice. Nearly the entire crew had
promptly deserted, and only the captain, a sulky engineer, and a few
enforcedly faithful passengers remained. (One of the numerous little
hard-luck stories of life in the Arctic "gold-fields.")
It was fortunate to find at Chenik the _North Star_, a small
stern-wheeler river boat, with whose captain a number of us quickly made
satisfactory arrangements for immediate transportation to White
Mountain, the half-way point to Council City. She soon, duck-like,
flopped over to the side of the _Elmore_; our freight was rustled into
her with all despatch; and, at eight o'clock in the evening, pretty well
laden with passengers and their effects, this gem of the ocean, under
the peculiar care of a crazy old Swede and his motley crew of three, was
puffing and breathing hard and pushing her clumsy way across the bay
toward the hidden delta of the Fish River. It was a matter of lying
about the primitive machinery, by the boilers and wood fuel, to keep
warm, and listening to a not too delightful crowd of alleged miners
swapping lies about the country. Sleep, of course, was out of the
question; a place to stretch out was not available except in the
adjacent bunks of the crew, and on inspection of these I decided that I
would rather not. It would not have seemed at all natural, or homelike,
had we not proceeded, about midnight, to run into fog and upon the
mud-flats. Only two and a half feet of water were requisite to allow the
vessel to navigate, but in order to get that depth it was necessary to
keep strictly in a zig-zag "channel," regarding whose location our
navigator was not precisely expert. While we lingered upon the mucky
bottom, a section of the crew, provided with a pole and a boat, under
the orders of the captain (expressed forcibly and picturesquely,--not to
say profanely,--_a la Suede_), would complete circles ahead and about
the _North Star_, shouting back, "One foot," "Two," "Two and a half,"
"Three," according as they sounded the depths. But we did finally,
somehow, get into the Fish River; and, after needlessly butting the
banks several times and smashing the tender, our little steamboat the
following afternoon rested on the shore at White Mountain, and another
transfer of freight promptly ensued. How unpleasantly familiar one's
boxes and bags become by the time they have reached their final
destination! White Mountain showed plainly enough, in its wholly
demolished structures and twisted log cabins, the sweeping force of the
ice-jam and flood which had rushed down upon it, about the middle of
June, on the breaking up of the streams. Almost providentially, it
seemed, a saloon remained serenely intact in the very center of the
havoc.
So far so good, but the only way to travel in this country is, if
possible, to shove right through somehow, and recuperate when the
ultimate goal has been gained. Together with two others who were making
the trip to Council, I made terms with "Ed" Trundy, a freighter, to
carry my ton and a half of stuff the remaining twenty-five or thirty
miles for three cents a pound. His equipment for transportation
consisted of a long, shallow, forty-five-foot boat, two river poles, an
assistant, "Louis," five dogs, and a swearing vocabulary which was
universally recognized as being the most replete, ornate, and frequently
employed in that section of the country--which is saying a great deal
and paying a very high compliment to Mr. Trundy. But, then, that robust
gentleman had enjoyed and profited by many advantages of training and
environment not shared by his less fortunate competitors. Born in the
backwoods of Maine, he had been a lumberman, had shipped before the mast
as seaman, driven a hack in Boston and a street-car in New York, had
freighted on the Yukon, and it is possible that he may have driven a
mule-team in Texas. "Ed" steered the craft, and, when the going was
good, those dogs, under the special charge of Louis, pulled the entire
load of three tons up the swollen streams just about as fast as the
rest of us cared to walk. We rode when the dogs rode, that is, when it
was necessary to pole over a slough or cross the stream. The recent
freshets and still melting snow in the hills and mountains beyond made
shallow rivers of the streams,--in places, however, deep,--and thus, to
a large extent, obviated the heartbreaking and back-breaking experiences
of the preceding year.
The plan of travel was to proceed only a few miles that evening to a
temporary encampment where Trundy had arranged to pick up some
additional freight, and where we should spend the night, making an early
start in the morning. Arrived there, I imposed upon the good nature of
some agreeable fellows, lugging my blankets into their tent and spending
the night with them, packed like sardines. We made an early start in
the forbidding morning, our number being increased to nine, and not a
very choice company either. It was soon apparent that the expedition
included two parties who claimed the same mining property, toward which
they were heading with all despatch, and that there was bad blood
between them. Suspicious looks and whispered conversations were
corroborative evidence.
At two o'clock we arrived at Craft's Road-House, near the mouth of the
Neukluk River, where a halt was made for dinner. This was a good-sized
log cabin, with scrupulously neat interior, kept by Mr. and Mrs. Craft,
but the Mrs. was the presiding genius. Photographs of their restaurants
at Chicago and Dawson, and of family and friends, stiffly yet fondly
grouped, adorned the walls. And what a good dinner they gave us--a
perfect gorge for one dollar, and cheap at five times the price! Louis
was taken ill here with cramps in his arms and legs, due to overwork and
wetting, but only after much persuasion consented to take off his boots
and lie down on the reindeer-skins by the stove. While he was
recuperating, the good-natured and loquacious hostess, seated behind
(and with elbows upon) the bar, entertained us; for Mrs. Craft, as the
name implies, knows her business and enjoys the reputation of being a
"fine talker." Her entertainment for this occasion was a somewhat broad
and general discussion of the marital obligations which should exist
between "squaw-men" and their Eskimo (truly enough) better halves,
citing her observations of the Eskimo code of ethics and certain
instances where the informality of existing relations had been made
conventional by voluntary appearance before a United States commissioner
and a performance of the proper ceremonies by that officer.
Louis gamely enough responded, and soon the expedition, in
rain-and-wet-proof armor of slickers and hip rubber boots, set out to
gain that night Johnson's Camp, a couple of vacant cabins on the
Neukluk, free to all transients. High up on the banks, extending
frequently back upon the flats, the willows and brush, and sometimes the
small spruce timber, lay bent and crushed to the surface, shredded and
skinned, almost machine-like, by the ice-jam which, not long before, had
roared and swept down the streams to the bay. Old landmarks in a new
country continually presented themselves, recalling vividly the
experiences of the summer before and the companions who had shared them
in the "mush" up the rivers to Council--"rivers" then by courtesy only.
The origin and derivation of the word "mush" have been given heretofore,
but will bear further reference. It is perhaps the most frequently used
word in northwestern Alaska, being universally employed for "walk,"
"tramp," "travel," etc.; and in view of the generally prevailing
conditions of snow, rain, muck, mud, and moss, the student of philology
may find in this expressive word a rare and precious instance of
onomatopoeia. This little digression in the narrative has not been
made chiefly for the purpose of exhibiting familiarity with Greek, but
rather as an introduction for modestly recording a compliment which is
treasured by the narrator. Perhaps it wasn't known that I had been
through that sort of thing before, only more so, and perhaps, being
built on a fairly long and economical plan, I had a peculiar advantage
in that kind of travel, but, at any rate, I felt that I had received a
very high compliment, delicately expressed, when an old-timer in the
party, with unnecessary calls on the Almighty, told me that I was a
"musher from hell."
At nine o'clock at night we climbed the steep, slippery, slimy bank to
the two cabins which constituted Johnson's Camp, to find the one
apparently inhabitable cabin already occupied by four as tough-looking
specimens of humanity as ever came down the Yukon. But that didn't make
any difference, except that they had a first lien on the soft spots of
the floor to the extent of four times six feet by two. They had a
cheerful, warm fire cracking in the stove, the floor was dry, and the
outlook for a good rest was excellent. But it was not thus to be.
Thirteen in the cabin taxed its capacity. Another party who sought the
same shelter, blocked at the entrance by a full house and a stony stare,
departed. The cooking began to mess things, and the carelessness and
profuseness of the gentlemen's expectoration,--gently but diabolically
aggravated by the now general leakage through a sieve-like
roof,--eliminated from my mind any intention which I may have had of
placing my blankets and myself upon the floor. In fact, it was difficult
to locate one's self, sitting or standing, so as to avoid a trickle of
water down the neck. Here was a good time for a bottle of whisky to get
in its work, and Louis needed a stiff drink, for he was pretty ill. So,
round it went throughout the choice circle, and back it came to me,
empty enough.
Three of us decided to sit out the night about the fire; the rest in
grotesque fashion lay stretched upon the floor. As a David Harum sort of
miner once said to me, "The more you see of a certain class of people,
the better you love a dog"; and about that time I felt very kindly
disposed toward the unjustly-rated lower animals. It was generally
agreed, before the turning in began, to make a four-o'clock start in the
morning, and about the only thing which the three of us who sat together
had in common was the intention that such a start should be made. As we
poked and added to the fire, and dodged the drip, the would-be sleepers
showed their disapproval of the noise and heat by moving and muttering,
and the semiconscious, but unrivaled, Trundy rounded out a series of
epithets which left no doubt as to his exact sentiments. One of the
figures raised itself and basted the head of a snoring Yukoner. Louis,
in his dreamy wanderings, with unnecessary vigor, but through force of
habit, attacked the poor dogs by references to their maternal ancestry.
One of the two who kept me company, whom I despised more than the other,
of wizened physique and a mean eye, fearful lest his goods might spoil,
occasionally migrated out into the early morning light and wet; and,
slipping and sliding down the mucky incline, mushed over to the boat,
lifted the canvas, and investigated the quantity of water in the craft.
Then, perhaps having bailed a little, he would climb back again to enjoy
the hospitality of the cabin and to intimate that he was doing my work
as well as his own. Having seen his supplies go into the boat first, and
on the bottom, I could remark that I would take the chances of having my
goods damaged. The best we could do was to rouse the reluctant crowd at
five o'clock, and, after a delectable breakfast, served as you snatched
it, get under way shortly after six to complete the remaining six or
seven miles to Council City. It had not been a pleasant evening. Perhaps
the night spent on the _Elmore_, the year before, was, on the whole, a
more disagreeable experience; but, nevertheless, the writer believes it
would require a combination of the genius of Poe and Kipling to paint a
fitting word-picture of that sojourn at Johnson's Camp, on the Neukluk.
The stream was now very high from the rain which had just ceased. The
freighters had their hardest work ahead of them; for the sloughs became
more frequent, the water extended well up to the brush and spruce, and
until we reached a point a few miles below Council there was but little
footing for the dogs. The rest of us, leaving the meanderings of the
river, struck out overland as straight as possible for Council. I caught
some of them eying me like a hawk, and knew that they suspected that I
had a retainer from the gentlemen with whom I had so agreeably passed
the night. Having made a wide detour inland through mossy swamp and
brush, we came to Mystery Creek, which was adorned in places with deep
banks of solid snow and glaciers. This crossed, and having gained the
open, that weird, familiar landscape presented itself--the bleak hills
back of Council, rising to the dignity of mountains, fringed at the base
with a growth of small timber, and approached by a plain of tundra. As
Sam Dunham, in one of his matchless Alaskan poems, with fine
alliteration says:
"We traversed the toe-twisting tundra,
Where reindeer root round for their feed";
and if there is any contrivance of mother earth's which is calculated to
sap man's remaining energy, it is this plodding over the Russian moss,
avoiding the stagnant pools upon its surface, and stepping and reaching
from hassock to hassock,
Sometimes as soggy as sawdust,
More frequently soft as a sponge.
[Mr. Dunham will, I trust, pardon this imitation of his "alliteration's
artful aid."]
Inspired, perhaps, by the nearness of the goal, and possibly by a desire
to show them I could do it, I then proceeded to cut loose from the
"hardy miners"; and, not long afterward, in the cool and sunny forenoon,
stood high on the brow of the precipitous palisades leading into
Council, which looked very attractive in what it promised and in its own
strangely picturesque surroundings. Then followed a hurried descent to
Melsing Creek, a fording of that little tributary, and, now in town, a
search for the edifice which should bear the firm insignia. There it
was, my name staring me in the face! Hastily mounting the three steps,
if you please, which led to the front entrance of the new log cabin, I
pounded the door, heard a familiar "Come in," and burst in upon my
partner, looking as fine as a fiddle and in the very act of laying down
the law to an unsuspecting client. Thus then, at last, after not a few
vicissitudes, some seven thousand miles had been traversed and the _au
revoir_ of the year before realized in the present. It had been, of
course, an easier undertaking than before, and at no time lacking in
interest; but the writer believes that, as regards the trip from Golovin
Bay to Council City, the physical labor of the previous year was
preferable to the lack of companionship in its successor.
VIII
THE COUNCIL CITY MINING DISTRICT--JOE RIPLEY AND OTHERS
Our quarters consisted of an excellent twenty-by-sixteen cabin, made of
whip-sawed spruce timber, the round log side of course being outside.
Half of it, partitioned off, was devoted to our office--a very complete
one, I may say, for Alaska. The other half, its wainscoting adorned with
pans, pots, saws, hammers, and the like, and its shelves and
box-cupboards holding various cooking and eating paraphernalia, answered
the purposes of kitchen and dining-room combined. A platform four feet
wide, and stretching across in the middle from wall to wall, formed the
base of an isosceles triangle with the peak of the roof, and thereby
made a loft or cache, convenient for storing provisions, etc. But, for
the life of me, I could discover no provisions for storing ourselves at
night. Immediately in the rear of the cabin was a tent, but that was
filled with miscellaneous stuff, and evidently was not intended for
sleeping purposes. At last the mystery was solved in looking behind an
apparently unnecessary hanging of drill tapestry which covered my side
of the partition, and discovering, neatly folded and caught up against
the concealed wall, an excellent home-made bed or bunk, whose only
springs, however, were the hinges from which it swung. Three fine,
friendly dogs, now enjoying their summer vacation, loafed about the
back door, near a sled upon which rested three old gold-pans from which
they fed. The cabin was but a little distance back of our old
camping-place, the marks of which were still very evident, and it
commanded a fine view of the tortuous river and the landscape beyond.
The appearance of the camp had improved,--many new cabins and several
more stores had sprung up,--but I could obtain no concrete explanation
from my partner, its president or mayor, why, during my absence, the
city's main thoroughfare had not been asphalted. My letters from the
"outside" telling of the time of my departure, and those intrusted at
Nome to pretended overland travelers, all came some time after my
arrival, but I was, nevertheless, expected to appear upon the scene any
day in early July.