The Country of the Chilcats
On October 30 we visited a camp of Hoonas at the mouth of a
salmon-chuck. We had seen some of them before, and they received us
kindly. Here we learned that peace reigned in Chilcat. The reports that
we had previously heard were, as usual in such cases, wildly
exaggerated. The little camp hut of these Indians was crowded with the
food-supplies they had gathered—chiefly salmon, dried and tied in
bunches of convenient size for handling and transporting to their
villages, bags of salmon-roe, boxes of fish-oil, a lot of mountain-goat
mutton, and a few porcupines. They presented us with some dried salmon
and potatoes, for which we gave them tobacco and rice. About 3 P.M. we
reached their village, and in the best house, that of a chief, we found
the family busily engaged in making whiskey. The still and mash were
speedily removed and hidden away with apparent shame as soon as we came
in sight. When we entered and passed the regular greetings, the usual
apologies as to being unable to furnish Boston food for us and
inquiries whether we could eat Indian food were gravely made. Toward
six or seven o’clock Mr. Young explained the object of his visit and
held a short service. The chief replied with grave deliberation, saying
that he would be heartily glad to have a teacher sent to his poor
ignorant people, upon whom he now hoped the light of a better day was
beginning to break. Hereafter he would gladly do whatever the white
teachers told him to do and would have no will of his own. This under
the whiskey circumstances seemed too good to be quite true. He thanked
us over and over again for coming so far to see him, and complained
that Port Simpson Indians, sent out on a missionary tour by Mr. Crosby,
after making a good-luck board for him and nailing it over his door,
now wanted to take it away. Mr. Young promised to make him a new one,
should this threat be executed, and remarked that since he had offered
to do his bidding he hoped he would make no more whiskey. To this the
chief replied with fresh complaints concerning the threatened loss of
his precious board, saying that he thought the Port Simpson Indians
were very mean in seeking to take it away, but that now he would tell
them to take it as soon as they liked for he was going to get a better
one at Wrangell. But no effort of the missionary could bring him to
notice or discuss the whiskey business. The luck board nailed over the
door was about two feet long and had the following inscription: “The
Lord will bless those who do his will. When you rise in the morning,
and when you retire at night, give him thanks. Heccla Hockla Popla.”
This chief promised to pray like a white man every morning, and to bury
the dead as the whites do. “I often wondered,” he said, “where the dead
went to. Now I am glad to know”; and at last acknowledged the whiskey,
saying he was sorry to have been caught making the bad stuff. The
behavior of all, even the little ones circled around the fire, was very
good. There was no laughter when the strange singing commenced. They
only gazed like curious, intelligent animals. A little daughter of the
chief with the glow of the firelight on her eyes made an interesting
picture, head held aslant. Another in the group, with upturned eyes,
seeming to half understand the strange words about God, might have
passed for one of Raphael’s angels.
The chief’s house was about forty feet square, of the ordinary fort
kind, but better built and cleaner than usual. The side-room doors were
neatly paneled, though all the lumber had been nibbled into shape with
a small narrow Indian adze. We had our tent pitched on a grassy spot
near the beach, being afraid of wee beasties; which greatly offended
Kadachan and old Toyatte, who said, “If this is the way you are to do
up at Chilcat, we will be ashamed of you.” We promised them to eat
Indian food and in every way behave like good Chilcats.
We set out direct for Chilcat in the morning against a brisk head wind.
By keeping close inshore and working hard, we made about ten miles by
two or three o’clock, when, the tide having turned against us, we could
make scarce any headway, and therefore landed in a sheltered cove a few
miles up the west side of Lynn Canal. Here I discovered a fine growth
of yellow cedar, but none of the trees were very large, the tallest
only seventy-five to one hundred feet high. The flat, drooping,
plume-like branchlets hang edgewise, giving the trees a thin, open,
airy look. Nearly every tree that I saw in a long walk was more or less
marked by the knives and axes of the Indians, who use the bark for
matting, for covering house-roofs, and making temporary portable huts.
For this last purpose sections five or six feet long and two or three
wide are pressed flat and secured from warping or splitting by binding
them with thin strips of wood at the end. These they carry about with
them in their canoes, and in a few minutes they can be put together
against slim poles and made into a rainproof hut. Every paddle that I
have seen along the coast is made of the light, tough, handsome yellow
wood of this tree. It is a tree of moderately rapid growth and usually
chooses ground that is rather boggy and mossy. Whether its network of
roots makes the bog or not, I am unable as yet to say.
Three glaciers on the opposite side of the canal were in sight,
descending nearly to sea-level, and many smaller ones that melt a
little below timber-line. While I was sketching these, a canoe hove in
sight, coming on at a flying rate of speed before the wind. The owners,
eager for news, paid us a visit. They proved to be Hoonas, a man, his
wife, and four children, on their way home from Chilcat. The man was
sitting in the stern steering and holding a sleeping child in his arms.
Another lay asleep at his feet. He told us that Sitka Jack had gone up
to the main Chilcat village the day before he left, intending to hold a
grand feast and potlatch, and that whiskey up there was flowing like
water. The news was rather depressing to Mr. Young and myself, for we
feared the effect of the poison on Toyatte’s old enemies. At 8.30 P.M.
we set out again on the turn of the tide, though the crew did not
relish this night work. Naturally enough, they liked to stay in camp
when wind and tide were against us, but didn’t care to make up lost
time after dark however wooingly wind and tide might flow and blow.
Kadachan, John, and Charley rowed, and Toyatte steered and paddled,
assisted now and then by me. The wind moderated and almost died away,
so that we made about fifteen miles in six hours, when the tide turned
and snow began to fall. We ran into a bay nearly opposite Berner’s Bay,
where three or four families of Chilcats were camped who shouted when
they heard us landing and demanded our names. Our men ran to the huts
for news before making camp. The Indians proved to be hunters, who said
there were plenty of wild sheep on the mountains back a few miles from
the head of the bay. This interview was held at three o’clock in the
morning, a rather early hour. But Indians never resent any such
disturbance provided there is anything worth while to be said or done.
By four o’clock we had our tents set, a fire made and some coffee,
while the snow was falling fast. Toyatte was out of humor with this
night business. He wanted to land an hour or two before we did, and
then, when the snow began to fall and we all wanted to find a
camping-ground as soon as possible, he steered out into the middle of
the canal, saying grimly that the tide was good. He turned, however, at
our orders, but read us a lecture at the first opportunity, telling us
to start early if we were in a hurry, but not to travel in the night
like thieves.
After a few hours’ sleep, we set off again, with the wind still against
us and the sea rough. We were all tired after making only about twelve
miles, and camped in a rocky nook where we found a family of Hoonas in
their bark hut beside their canoe. They presented us with potatoes and
salmon and a big bucketful of berries, salmon-roe, and grease of some
sort, probably fish-oil, which the crew consumed with wonderful relish.
A fine breeze was blowing next morning from the south, which would take
us to Chilcat in a few hours, but unluckily the day was Sunday and the
good wind was refused. Sunday, it seemed to me, could be kept as well
by sitting in the canoe and letting the Lord’s wind waft us quietly on
our way. The day was rainy and the clouds hung low. The trees here are
remarkably well developed, tall and straight. I observed three or four
hemlocks which had been struck by lightning,—the first I noticed in
Alaska. Some of the species on windy outjutting rocks become very
picturesque, almost as much so as old oaks, the foliage becoming dense
and the branchlets tufted in heavy plume-shaped horizontal masses.
Monday was a fine clear day, but the wind was dead ahead, making hard,
dull work with paddles and oars. We passed a long stretch of beautiful
marble cliffs enlivened with small merry waterfalls, and toward noon
came in sight of the front of the famous Chilcat or Davidson Glacier, a
broad white flood reaching out two or three miles into the canal with
wonderful effect. I wanted to camp beside it but the head wind tired us
out before we got within six or eight miles of it. We camped on the
west side of a small rocky island in a narrow cove. When I was looking
among the rocks and bushes for a smooth spot for a bed, I found a human
skeleton. My Indians seemed not in the least shocked or surprised,
explaining that it was only the remains of a Chilcat slave. Indians
never bury or burn the bodies of slaves, but just cast them away
anywhere. Kind Nature was covering the poor bones with moss and leaves,
and I helped in the pitiful work.
The wind was fair and joyful in the morning, and away we glided to the
famous glacier. In an hour or so we were directly in front of it and
beheld it in all its crystal glory descending from its white mountain
fountains and spreading out in an immense fan three or four miles wide
against its tree-fringed terminal moraine. But, large as it is, it long
ago ceased to discharge bergs.
The Chilcats are the most influential of all the Thlinkit tribes.
Whenever on our journey I spoke of the interesting characteristics of
other tribes we had visited, my crew would invariably say, “Oh, yes,
these are pretty good Indians, but wait till you have seen the
Chilcats.” We were now only five or six miles distant from their lower
village, and my crew requested time to prepare themselves to meet their
great rivals. Going ashore on the moraine with their boxes that had not
been opened since we left Fort Wrangell, they sat on boulders and cut
each other’s hair, carefully washed and perfumed themselves and made a
complete change in their clothing, even to white shirts, new boots, new
hats, and bright neckties. Meanwhile, I scrambled across the broad,
brushy, forested moraine, and on my return scarcely recognized my crew
in their dress suits. Mr. Young also made some changes in his clothing,
while I, having nothing dressy in my bag, adorned my cap with an
eagle’s feather I found on the moraine, and thus arrayed we set forth
to meet the noble Thlinkits.
We were discovered while we were several miles from the village, and as
we entered the mouth of the river we were hailed by a messenger from
the chief, sent to find out who we were and the objects of our
extraordinary visit.
“Who are you?” he shouted in a heavy, far-reaching voice. “What are
your names? What do you want? What have you come for?”
On receiving replies, he shouted the information to another messenger,
who was posted on the river-bank at a distance of a quarter of a mile
or so, and he to another and another in succession, and by this living
telephone the news was delivered to the chief as he sat by his
fireside. A salute was then fired to welcome us, and a swarm of
musket-bullets, flying scarce high enough for comfort, pinged over our
heads. As soon as we reached the landing at the village, a dignified
young man stepped forward and thus addressed us:—
“My chief sent me to meet you, and to ask if you would do him the honor
to lodge in his house during your stay in our village?”
We replied, of course, that we would consider it a great honor to be
entertained by so distinguished a chief.
The messenger then ordered a number of slaves, who stood behind him, to
draw our canoe out of the water, carry our provisions and bedding into
the chief’s house, and then carry the canoe back from the river where
it would be beyond the reach of floating ice. While we waited, a lot of
boys and girls were playing on a meadow near the landing—running races,
shooting arrows, and wading in the icy river without showing any
knowledge of our presence beyond quick stolen glances. After all was
made secure, he conducted us to the house, where we found seats of
honor prepared for us.
The old chief sat barefooted by the fireside, clad in a calico shirt
and blanket, looking down, and though we shook hands as we passed him
he did not look up. After we were seated, he still gazed into the fire
without taking the slightest notice of us for about ten or fifteen
minutes. The various members of the chief’s family, also,—men, women,
and children,—went about their usual employment and play as if entirely
unconscious that strangers were in the house, it being considered
impolite to look at visitors or speak to them before time had been
allowed them to collect their thoughts and prepare any message they
might have to deliver.
At length, after the politeness period had passed, the chief slowly
raised his head and glanced at his visitors, looked down again, and at
last said, through our interpreter:—
“I am troubled. It is customary when strangers visit us to offer them
food in case they might be hungry, and I was about to do so, when I
remembered that the food of you honorable white chiefs is so much
better than mine that I am ashamed to offer it.”
We, of course, replied that we would consider it a great honor to enjoy
the hospitality of so distinguished a chief as he was.
Hearing this, he looked up, saying, “I feel relieved”; or, in John the
interpreter’s words, “He feels good now, he says he feels good.”
He then ordered one of his family to see that the visitors were fed.
The young man who was to act as steward took up his position in a
corner of the house commanding a view of all that was going on, and
ordered the slaves to make haste to prepare a good meal; one to bring a
lot of the best potatoes from the cellar and wash them well; another to
go out and pick a basketful of fresh berries; another to broil a
salmon; while others made a suitable fire, pouring oil on the wet wood
to make it blaze. Speedily the feast was prepared and passed around.
The first course was potatoes, the second fish-oil and salmon, next
berries and rose-hips; then the steward shouted the important news, in
a loud voice like a herald addressing an army, “That’s all!” and left
his post.
Then followed all sorts of questions from the old chief. He wanted to
know what Professor Davidson had been trying to do a year or two ago on
a mountain-top back of the village, with many strange things looking at
the sun when it grew dark in the daytime; and we had to try to explain
eclipses. He asked us if we could tell him what made the water rise and
fall twice a day, and we tried to explain that the sun and moon
attracted the sea by showing how a magnet attracted iron.
Mr. Young, as usual, explained the object of his visit and requested
that the people might be called together in the evening to hear his
message. Accordingly all were told to wash, put on their best clothing,
and come at a certain hour. There was an audience of about two hundred
and fifty, to whom Mr. Young I preached. Toyatte led in prayer, while
Kadachan and John joined in the singing of several hymns. At the
conclusion of the religious exercises the chief made a short address of
thanks, and finished with a request for the message of the other chief.
I again tried in vain to avoid a speech by telling the interpreter to
explain that I was only traveling to see the country, the glaciers, and
mountains and forests, etc., but these subjects, strange to say, seemed
to be about as interesting as the gospel, and I had to delivery sort of
lecture on the fine foodful country God had given them and the
brotherhood of man, along the same general lines I had followed at
other villages. Some five similar meetings were held here, two of them
in the daytime, and we began to feel quite at home in the big
block-house with our hospitable and warlike friends.
At the last meeting an old white-haired shaman of grave and venerable
aspect, with a high wrinkled forehead, big, strong Roman nose and
light-colored skin, slowly and with great dignity arose and spoke for
the first time.
“I am an old man,” he said, “but I am glad to listen to those strange
things you tell, and they may well be true, for what is more wonderful
than the flight of birds in the air? I remember the first white man I
ever saw. Since that long, long-ago time I have seen many, but never
until now have I ever truly known and felt a white man’s heart. All the
white men I have heretofore met wanted to get something from us. They
wanted furs and they wished to pay for them as small a price as
possible. They all seemed to be seeking their own good—not our good. I
might say that through all my long life I have never until now heard a
white man speak. It has always seemed to me while trying to speak to
traders and those seeking gold-mines that it was like speaking to a
person across a broad stream that was running fast over stones and
making so loud a noise that scarce a single word could be heard. But
now, for the first time, the Indian and the white man are on the same
side of the river, eye to eye, heart to heart. I have always loved my
people. I have taught them and ministered to them as well as I could.
Hereafter, I will keep silent and listen to the good words of the
missionaries, who know God and the places we go to when we die so much
better than I do.”
At the close of the exercises, after the last sermon had been preached
and the last speech of the Indian chief and headmen had been made, a
number of the sub-chiefs were talking informally together. Mr. Young,
anxious to know what impression he had made on the tribe with reference
to mission work, requested John to listen and tell him what was being
said.
“They are talking about Mr. Muir’s speech,” he reported. “They say he
knows how to talk and beats the preacher far.” Toyatte also, with a
teasing smile, said: “Mr. Young, mika tillicum hi yu tola wawa” (your
friend leads you far in speaking).
Later, when the sending of a missionary and teacher was being
considered, the chief said they wanted me, and, as an inducement,
promised that if I would come to them they would always do as I
directed, follow my councils, give me as many wives as I liked, build a
church and school, and pick all the stones out of the paths and make
them smooth for my feet.
They were about to set out on an expedition to the Hootsenoos to
collect blankets as indemnity or blood-money for the death of a Chilcat
woman from drinking whiskey furnished by one of the Hootsenoo tribe. In
case of their refusal to pay, there would be fighting, and one of the
chiefs begged that we would pray them good luck, so that no one would
be killed. This he asked as a favor, after begging that we would grant
permission to go on this expedition, promising that they would avoid
bloodshed if possible. He spoke in a very natural and easy tone and
manner always serene and so much of a polished diplomat that all polish
was hidden. The younger chief stood while speaking, the elder sat on
the floor. None of the congregation had a word to say, though they gave
approving nods and shrugs.
The house was packed at every meeting, two a day. Some climbed on the
roof to listen around the smoke opening. I tried in vain to avoid
speechmaking, but, as usual, I had to say something at every meeting. I
made five speeches here, all of which seemed to be gladly heard,
particularly what I said on the different kinds of white men and their
motives, and their own kindness and good manners in making strangers
feel at home in their houses.
The chief had a slave, a young and good-looking girl, who waited on
him, cooked his food, lighted his pipe for him, etc. Her servitude
seemed by no means galling. In the morning, just before we left on the
return trip, interpreter John overheard him telling her that after the
teacher came from Wrangell, he was going to dress her well and send her
to school and use her in every way as if she were his own daughter.
Slaves are still owned by the richest of the Thlinkits. Formerly, many
of them were sacrificed on great occasions, such as the opening of a
new house or the erection of a totem pole. Kadachan ordered John to
take a pair of white blankets out of his trunk and wrap them about the
chief’s shoulders, as he sat by the fire. This gift was presented
without ceremony or saying a single word. The chief scarcely noticed
the blankets, only taking a corner in his hand, as if testing the
quality of the wool. Toyatte had been an inveterate enemy and fighter
of the Chilcats, but now, having joined the church, he wished to forget
the past and bury all the hard feuds and be universally friendly and
peaceful. It was evident, however, that he mistrusted the proud and
warlike Chilcats and doubted the acceptance of his friendly advances,
and as we approached their village became more and more thoughtful.
“My wife said that my old enemies would be sure to kill me. Well, never
mind. I am an old man and may as well die as not.” He was troubled with
palpitation, and oftentimes, while he suffered, he put his hand over
his heart and said, “I hope the Chilcats will shoot me here.”
Before venturing up the river to the principal village, located some
ten miles up the river, we sent Sitka Charley and one of the young
Chilcats as messengers to announce our arrival and inquire whether we
would be welcome to visit them, informing the chief that both Kadachan
and Toyatte were Mr. Young’s friends and mine, that we were “all one
meat” and any harm done them would also be done to us.
While our messengers were away, I climbed a pure-white, dome-crowned
mountain about fifty-five hundred feet high and gained noble telling
views to the northward of the main Chilcat glaciers and the multitude
of mighty peaks from which they draw their sources. At a height of
three thousand feet I found a mountain hemlock, considerably dwarfed,
in company with Sitka spruce and the common hemlock, the tallest about
twenty feet high, sixteen inches in diameter. A few stragglers grew
considerably higher, say at about four thousand feet. Birch and
two-leaf pine were common.
The messengers returned next day, bringing back word that we would all
be heartily welcomed excepting Toyatte; that the guns were loaded and
ready to be fired to welcome us, but that Toyatte, having insulted a
Chilcat chief not long ago in Wrangell, must not come. They also
informed us in their message that they were very busy merrymaking with
other visitors, Sitka Jack and his friends, but that if we could get up
to the village through the running ice on the river, they would all be
glad to see us; they had been drinking and Kadachan’s father, one of
the principal chiefs, said plainly that he had just waked up out of a
ten days’ sleep. We were anxious to make this visit, but, taking the
difficulties and untoward circumstances into account, the danger of
being frozen in at so late a time, while Kadachan would not be able to
walk back on account of a shot in his foot, the danger also from
whiskey, the awakening of old feuds on account of Toyatte’s presence,
etc., we reluctantly concluded to start back on the home journey at
once. This was on Friday and a fair wind was blowing, but our crew, who
loved dearly to rest and eat in these big hospitable houses, all said
that Monday would be _hyas klosh_ for the starting-day. I insisted,
however, on starting Saturday morning, and succeeded in getting away
from our friends at ten o’clock. Just as we were leaving, the chief who
had entertained us so handsomely requested a written document to show
that he had not killed us, so in case we were lost on the way home he
could not be held accountable in any way for our death.