A spring day in Alaska! Since early dawn we had paddled swiftly along
in a world wrapped in a blue haze. On our right tall fir trees rose
mistily from the shore. On our left the faint line of lofty mountain
ranges melted into the blue grey of a cloudless sky. The seagulls
spiraled high overhead, then, swooping low, were lost in the
white-capped waves. The tang of the sea filled our nostrils and the
rising wind whipped the spray in our faces and sent the blood tingling
through our veins.
We rounded a jutting point and came in sight of the deserted village of
Kasaan. Lofty totem poles were etched against the sky. Some leaned
drunkenly toward decaying lodges half buried in underbrush.
“Here was fought the last great battle between the Tsimpseans and
Hydahs,” said the Story Teller. “My mother has many times told me the
tale as it was told to her by her grandfather, who took a Hydah maiden
for his wife. She was a blood relation of Chief Skowel, he who was
greatest of all the Hydah chiefs.”
The rain had begun to fall, so we landed and as we cooked our breakfast
over the campfire he told me the story.
“You must know that some of my people came from far to the southward
and settled near the Stikine River many, many moons ago. There the
Hydahs came seeking safety from their enemies, the Tsimpseans. The
streams were full of fish. There were deer in the forest and game was
plentiful. They settled there and became rich and had many elaidi
(slaves).
“See how the totem poles in front of Chief Skowel’s lodge rise high
above all the others! That tells how big a chief he was. In his lodge
was danced the great peace dance which ended the long war between the
Hydahs and the Tsimpseans.
“Farther back than my grandfather’s father can remember the Hydahs and
the Tsimpseans had made war upon each other. They made raids at night
and the maidens and young braves taken prisoners were treated as
slaves. Every time a chief became sick or died, a totem pole was
raised, or a potlatch given, some of these slaves were killed and their
bodies thrown on the beach to be eaten by the crows. The number of
holes in the ears of a chief told how many potlatches he had given.
“One day the Hydahs looked and saw that the water was black with
canoes. The Tsimpseans were coming to make war upon them. Twenty young
Hydah braves got into two big canoes and went to meet them. They
offered to make peace with them. But the Tsimpseans had long looked
with longing eyes on their rich hunting grounds, and refused.
“The Tsimpseans had seven canoes and over a hundred men. But the Hydahs
had two guns which they had traded many furs for from the Pale Faces
far to the Northward at Sheet-kah (Sitka). They shot off the guns and
the noise was like the roar of thunder. Their enemies leaped backward
in terror. Their canoes were overturned and so many were killed that
the water was red with blood.
“They called upon Sha-nung-et-lag-e-das (God) but he heard them not.
“So the Tsimpseans surrendered and Chief Skowel gave a great peace
dance. The two tribes were drawn up facing each other. Then a young
brave from each side advanced and choosing one of his former foes
carried him off to his side. He was not allowed to walk throughout the
long ceremony and was treated with the greatest honor. This was to show
that they would now treat each other as brothers and freely visit each
other’s camp fires.
“If you will visit my lodge in Ketchikan, a day’s journey to the
northward,” concluded the Story Teller, “I shall show you one of the
guns used in that last big fight. It was given to me by my grandmother,
she who was a blood relation of Chief Skowel. She told me it was made
in Sheet-kah (Sitka) in the days when the Russians made many guns and
cannons and built great ships to send over the Big Water. It is a flint
lock and made fine and strong. Many come to see it and offer me plenty
furs or bags of the white man’s money for it.”