FAIR SITKA.
"It was pretty dark and lonesome up there, I can tell you," said Tom,
having described his long tramp and the death of the bear. "The wind
rose at about nine o'clock, and cut like knives. Solomon had built the
camp so as to face away from the wind, and after supper Fred and I were
glad to curl up in our blankets on the fir boughs. Solomon threw half
a dozen of his big logs on the fire, and then sat down on our front
doorstep to have a smoke.
"I wish you could have heard some of his stories, Randolph! Some
years ago, before there was any Canadian Pacific, or even a Northern
Pacific railroad, he guided a party across the Chilkoot Pass and down
the Yukon. They were on a hunt for a 'mountain of cinnabar,' a 'Red
Mountain,' which an Indian had told about, somewhere in the interior.
There were women in the party, and how they ever got through the woods,
I don't see.
"Well, they struck off from the Yukon, after having a brush with the
Indians, followed a native map, had to winter in the woods, almost
starved to death, and at last found the 'Red Mountain' was Mount
Wrangell--a volcano, you know, twenty thousand feet high."
"Did they find their cinnabar?" asked Randolph.
"Only a small quantity. But there was enough outcrop of copper and gold
to pay them for the trip. They rafted down the Copper River, after
leaving Solomon to locate, and a year or two later sold out at a big
profit to some San Francisco capitalists. So far as Solomon knows, the
mines have never been worked yet, they are so far inland."
"Now tell us about your getting home," broke in Kittie. "We're more
interested in that than in your 'Red Mountain.' Did you sleep any, poor
boys?"
"Not very much," laughed Fred. "The mosquitoes settled down to business
pretty soon after midnight, and made things lively. Baranov had some
pieces of netting, and we put them over our heads, but they didn't seem
to do much good."
"They say the Alaskan mosquitoes are so intelligent," remarked
Rossiter, "that two of them will hold the wings of a third close to his
body, and push him through the meshes of a net. That accounts for their
neighborliness in your camp. Go on with the story."
"My leg hurt so that I couldn't sleep much," said Tom, taking up the
narrative again. "Whenever I did dose for a few minutes, I would wake
up with a start and see Solomon putting on another log. I don't believe
he slept a wink all night.
"Toward morning Fred and I both got a good nap of nearly an hour. When
I opened my eyes, I looked for Solomon, but he wasn't in sight"--
"Then of course he must wake me," interrupted Fred, "and I had to get
up and put wood on the fire, lest that His Royal Highness should feel
cold. I had just got a good blaze going when Baranov hove in sight,
with a big bear steak in one hand and a string of trout in the other.
"'Where in the world did you get those fish?' Tom sung out.
"'Oh! back here a piece, in a leetle pool I knew about,' says Solomon.
'I 'lowed we'll have a dish o' fried traouts fer breakfast, ef the
brook hedn't dried up.'"
There was a shout at Fred's imitation of Baranov's tone.
"The trout were delicious," said Tom, when he could make himself heard;
"and the flavor of the bear meat was all right, but 'twas tough as
leather. After breakfast Solomon skinned the bear in good shape"--
"Where is the skin now?" put in Bess. "I didn't see it in your bundles."
"It's at Juneau," said Mr. Percival. "Solomon said he'd have it nicely
dressed, and as soon as it was cured and prepared for mounting, he
would ship it to our Boston address. Tom wanted it for a rug with the
head on, and Fred generously yielded all claim to it."
Kittie smiled such warm approval at his generosity that the young
student blushed, and gave Tom a dig to go ahead with his account of
their adventures.
"I was so stiff and lame that I could just hobble when we first
started, right away after dinner. I knew father and all of you would
be worried, but it couldn't be helped. We managed to get down about
three quarters of the way, before it was time to stop for the night. Of
course it was ever so much easier going down than up, but it hurt some,
you can believe! Solomon helped me over the bad places, and Fred took a
double load.
"We camped right beside the brook we had followed up the day before,
and started on again before sunrise next morning. Just as we reached
the clearing above Juneau, we met a dozen men, with father at their
head, starting up the mountain after us."
"What I want to know," broke in Randolph, "is how you ever got to Sitka
as soon as we did?"
"Why, father made inquiries for a doctor, and was told the best one in
Juneau was the surgeon of the _Pinta_. She's a Government steamer, you
know, stationed on this coast to look after our sealing and fishery
interests and the like. Dr. Parks was awfully kind, and a splendid
doctor, I guess, by the way he treated my bear scratch. He put some
kind of a liniment on, then bound it all up in good shape, and
wouldn't take a fee, either--not a cent. When he heard our story, he
told father the _Pinta_ was going to run over to Sitka that very day,
starting before noon. If we liked, he believed the captain would take
us on board, and we could meet you there instead of waiting for you at
Juneau, and leaving you to worry all that extra time.
"We said good-by to Baranov--I don't know how much father insisted on
paying him--went on board the little _Pinta_, arrived safe and sound at
Sitka, and here we are!"
As soon as Tom had finished his story, he was showered with questions,
and it was an hour longer before the party, having taken breakfast,
assembled on deck to witness the approach to the wharf. Another boat
from the south, much smaller and dirtier, headed for her moorings at
the same time.
The _Queen_, like a true King's Daughter, permitted the other to pass
her and make fast to the wharf. In stately wise, Her Majesty then moved
quietly up beside her companion, and the Percivals landed over the
latter's decks.
I will not try to describe Sitka for you; in the first place, because
other people have written and printed a great deal about it, which
you can find for yourselves in the books on Alaska on the third shelf
of the fourth alcove of your Public Library; and secondly, because
Rossiter Selborne gave his mother so concise an account of his
impressions of the place, that I shall put a part of his letter into
this chapter, as I did at Banff.
[Illustration: THE GREEK CHURCH AT SITKA.]
After describing the buildings about the wharf, he told how he and one
or two others walked directly up the main street to the famous church
of Sitka; continuing as follows:
"The little church, long ago built by the Russians (from whom, you
know, the United States bought Alaska for about seven million dollars
in 1867), was a quaint building, with a solemn guardian, who demanded a
small fee before he permitted us to enter. There was an altar arranged
after the requirements and ceremonies of the Eastern Catholic church;
some fine priestly robes, and a really beautiful painting of Mary, the
mother of Jesus. Services are still held in the church every Sunday.
"Coming out of the church we walked along the narrow streets, looking
at the houses built of squared logs by the Russians many years ago.
The building on the hill was of logs like the rest, and proved to be
the castle of stern old Governor Baranov. I found pieces of bear's fur
still sticking to the walls, where the great hides had once been nailed
up, to keep out the bitter cold of winter.
"Such funny times we had buying trinkets of the Indians, squatting in
a long row on the broad sidewalk! All the English the Indian squaws
seemed to know was, 'One tollar!' 'Two tollar!'
"I must not forget to tell you about the Mission School. You walk to it
along the curving, sandy beach, near which the school buildings stand,
about half a mile from the wharf. Such fine, intelligent faces the boys
and girls have, compared with the natives outside! It is beautiful to
see the human, the divine, driving the animal look out of the dark
faces, the eyes kindling with light, the whole, God-given soul waking
up before your very eyes. The old fairy story of the fair princess,
Sleeping Beauty, brought to life by the kiss of a prince, is pretty;
but it will hardly move one, after seeing the wonderful awakening of a
poor, Sitkan woman-child, at the touch of loving hands--at the sound of
her Father's voice, speaking through the noble men and women who are
doing his work in these desolate Northern lands.
"A little paper, the 'Northern Star,' is printed at the school, and
gives all the latest items of news concerning it. It costs fifty cents
a year, and the gentle lady who conducted us through the buildings was
so pleased when two or three of us subscribed. Of course the paper
comes irregularly in the winter, when the sea-passages are dangerous
with fogs and icebergs; but you are sure to get all your numbers sooner
or later.
"I wish you could have seen Mr. Percival sitting in the Mission Parlor,
holding a dot of a Thlinket child on each knee! One of them was named
Marion, and the other had a long, funny Indian name that I forgot the
beginning of, before she'd got to the end of it.
"The scholars had a prayer meeting at the close of day, and sang our
dear, familiar hymns with strange words to them. Here is one verse of
'I am so glad that Jesus loves me,' in the Thlinket tongue:
"'Hä ish dickeewoo [)u]htoowoo y[)u]keh
Hä een ukkonniknooch dookoos[)a]h[)u]nne,
Thl[=e]koodze ut dookookwoo käd[=a] häteen:
Uh y[)u]keh kl[)u]h hutsehunne Jesus.
_Cho._ Uhtoowoo y[)u]keh Jesus h[)u]tseh[)u],
Jesus hutsehun, Jesus hutsehun;
Uhtoowoo y[)u]keh Jesus hutsehun;
Jesus kluh hutsehun.'
"It seems as if Our Father must smile tenderly when he hears such
uncouth sounds. Yet he understands them all, and answers each shyly
murmured Sitka prayer, just as he does the 'Now I lay me,' lisped by
New England baby lips.
"The long, beautiful Northern day drew to a close. We left the bustling
town, and walking past the Mission School, kept on around the shore of
the bay. Now the path wound in and out of the forest; now it emerged
upon the beach, where the ripples softly patted the sand and laughed
and played together. Before long we reached the banks of Indian River,
and crossed it by a rustic foot-bridge. The air was fragrant with odors
of balsam fir and all the cool, delicious scents of the forest. We
turned back toward the ship. Although it was near the hour of ten, the
western sky was all golden with sunset. Against it rose the delicate
spire of the Russian church, and the sturdy bulk of the castle. Out
across the bay the gulls and ravens wavered their slow way among the
islands."