“It was one of my people, Thle-da, the most skillful carver of all the
Thlinget nation, who carved that totem in honor of the great white
chief, Abraham Lincoln,” said the Story Teller proudly as he pointed to
a lofty totem pole from which the benign face of the great emancipator
looked down upon a deserted Indian village.
The setting sun had changed the misty blue of Northern skies into a
marvelous canopy of red and gold. It bathed the distant snow-capped
mountains in a rosy light and sent a warm golden glow over the quiet
waters of Nakat Bay as he told the story of how over fifty years ago
his tribe had sought shelter under the Stars and Stripes and been saved
from slavery or complete extermination.
“My people are of the Tongass tribe of the Thlingets,” he went on.
“They are of the Raven clan. Long before the Pale Faces journeyed to
the land which the white man calls Alaska, they were at war with the
Kok-wan-tans, who belonged to the Eagle clan of the Thlingets and were
always on the war path. They burned our lodges. They carried off our
fairest maidens and our young men and made slaves of them.
“At last only a few stalwart braves were left to guard our old men and
women and children. They were driven farther and farther away until
they found shelter on a low, sandy island a day’s journey from their
old hunting grounds near Dixon’s Entrance.
“There their enemies could not fall upon them unawares, for the land
was level as the palm of my hand. They built a great fort of logs and
slept always with their clubs by their side.
“But the Kok-wan-tans knew that on the island there were no springs of
water and little wood for their campfires. So they waited with the
watchful patience of the Red Man for the time when no longer the smoke
of their campfires should curl upward.
“One day Kayak, a friendly Indian, noiselessly paddled into the little
cove near the lodge and landed. He told them of a strange ship, like a
great bird, that had come from far to the southward. On it were many
Pale Faces. They had built a big fort on the island of Kut-tuk-wah and
the Red Men were no longer allowed to make war on each other.
“They had been sent, Kayak said, by their chief, Abraham Lincoln. He
had freed the Black Men who had been slaves to the Pale Faces for many
moons. Now he had sent his soldiers to free the Red Men. The
Kok-wan-tans must wash off their war paint and bury their war clubs.
“So,” continued the Story Teller, “my people watched and when their
enemies were sleeping they took their canoes and fled to this island,
which the white men now call Tongass Island. Here, guarded by the great
ship “Lincoln,” Chief Ebbetts and his people built their lodges and
again raised their totem poles.
“For many years they lived in peace and prospered.
“But the Red Man forgets not. The Tongass Indians were grateful to
their white brothers. They listened when Chief Sewrard visited them and
told them of the great white chief who loved the Red Man.
“‘We are thankful,’ they said. ‘Our hearts salute him. No longer need
we fear lest we be made slaves and buried beneath the totem poles of
our enemies.’
“One day Chief Ebbetts summoned his sub-chief Tsa-kad and said, ‘I am
weary. Soon I shall sleep the long sleep of the old. But my heart turns
to my brother, the great white chief Abraham Lincoln, for what he has
done for my people. We shall make a lofty totem pole and above the
Raven, the crest of our tribe, we shall carve a statue of Chief
Lincoln.’
“So Thle-da, my father’s brother—he who could talk so marvelously with
his fingers—was given a picture of Chief Lincoln from which to carve
the statue. He worked while others slept and in the moon of nesting
birds it was finished.
“Then Chief Ebbetts gave a big potlatch to which all the people in the
village were invited. The great totem pole was erected and for many
days there was dancing and feasting. Around the camp fire the elders
again told how Abraham Lincoln had stretched out his hands to them and
saved them.
“But,” and the Story Teller shook his head mournfully, “the ancient
village of my people is now deserted. Their lodges are overgrown with
weeds. Even our Abraham Lincoln totem is crumbling away.
“In these days when men fly like birds and the voice travels swifter
than an arrow to its mark, surely Alaska is no longer thought a
shak-nah-ahm (foreign) country, and our white chief in Washington will
listen and grant the wish of his children that this island with the
first statue ever erected to Abraham Lincoln be cared for so we may
bring our children’s children to look upon it.”