Thursday, July 15. In the morning, after a good trip, reach St.
Michael--quite a town from a distance, with many boats on the shore in
front of it; but soon find that it is largely a dead city and ships'
graveyard, not harbor. With the gold rush over, and the Government
railroad from Seward to the Tanana, men and business have departed.
Before the summer is over most of the large buildings and the fine
large boats are to be demolished, and there will be left but a lonely
village.
Unload my collections on the old dock. The postman kindly comes down
from his place, which, with Mr. Williams's store, is far up on the
hill above the harbor, the boxes are weighed and stamped for the
parcel post, and relieved of them I go to the hotel and spend the day
in visiting the teacher, the marshal, Mr. Williams's store, where
I see a whole lot of recent Eskimo ceremonial masks decorated with
colors and feathers, and the wireless station to send a message to
the Institution. All native (Eskimo) character is almost gone from
the place, what remains being mainly civilized mix bloods; and also
little, if anything, remains to be collected, particularly now when all
vacant land is thickly overgrown with grass and weeds. An occasional
skull appears, one having been seen recently on the beach and one on
Whale Island, but there is little besides, though things could be found
doubtless by excavation.
Items of interest in Mr. Williams's store, and also in that of the N.
C. Co., are various articles cut handsomely by the Eskimo from walrus
ivory, both fresh and "fossil" (old and nicely discolored). There are
beads, napkin rings, hairpins, cigar and cigarette holders, and other
objects, generally exceedingly well made and decorated. It is, of
course, well known that the Eskimo are very apt in this work; it is
not, however, so well known that every island or village has certain
specialties and types of decoration. This is so true that an observer
before long can tell in many instances just where a given article has
been made.
The fossil ivory industry is, it was soon learned, becoming a serious
detriment to archeological work in these regions; of which, however,
more later.
During the day I find that a small boat, the _Silver Wave_, belonging
to Lomen Bros., will leave St. Michael for Nome that same evening. As
this suits me very well I engage a berth on the boat, help to get my
baggage on deck over a broken landing place, and get ready to depart.
At 6 leave St. Michael. The _Silver Wave_ is a tub--too short--am
told if it were of proper length they would have to have more help.
Result--very unsteady. Fortunately the weather is fair, and the
captain gives me a berth in his cabin. I had originally a stateroom,
right in the back, with three bunks or beds, so small that one could
barely get into the beds; but there came two mix-breed women with a
girl and so they turned me out and put me in the "hole"--seven bunks
in an ill-ventilated cabin under the deck in the stern of the ship.
She is only about 60 feet long by about 15 broad. As it is I have a
bunk in what would have been a well-ventilated little cabin, had it
not been for rough weather which came on later in the night and which
necessitated the closing of the window.
Friday, July 16. The rougher weather came and the boat began to pitch
and roll. Luckily I slept for the most part. At about 6.30 the captain
called me to breakfast with him. I got up rather groggy from the sea,
but managed to wash my face and get to the little messroom, where the
cook started to bring eggs, bacon, coffee, etc.--and then I had enough
and had all I could do to reach my bunk again without getting seasick.
I was kept on the verge of it until after 10, when we arrived off Nome.
This, however, meant no relief. There was no bay, no dock, no shelter
for even such a small boat, and so we anchored a few hundred yards off
the shore along which stretch the long line of unpainted (mostly),
weather-beaten frame dwellings of this northern capital.
By this time I barely keep my feet, but they lowered a heavy rowboat,
and several of us--there were four other men passengers--are helped
to tumble in. I get back, and to steady myself catch hold of the
borders of the boat, only for this the next moment to be dashed against
the larger boat with my hand between. It was almost too much, the
seasickness and added to it the very painful hurt. Fortunately the
fingers were not crushed, just bruised badly--they might easily have
been mashed to a pulp.
They row us in and we tumble out on the sand, and there is no one to
receive anybody or take any notice. However, after a while there comes
accidentally an old two-seated Ford. Three of us crowd in, leave the
few bulkier things we brought along on the beach unguarded, and are
driven to the other end of the town, to the Golden Gate Hotel.
This is a big old frame building, out of plumb in several directions.
There is no one in the spacious lobby. However, after a time some one,
not looking much like a proprietor--more like a groom at work--comes
out from somewhere and without much ado shows us each to a room. Mine
smells musty, old sweat and blankets and mould, and looks out on a
dilapidated tin roof--must ask for another. Finally get one "front" for
$3--the other was only $2.50. Musty too, but fairly large, and with a
double bed with, at last again, clean covers.
Unshaven--in the khaki worse for rain and work--with fingers so sore
they can not bear a touch, feverish, and head still dizzy--I go to
lunch. On my way stop at Coast Guard building--no one there; at the
Roads Commission--office empty; at the Customs--not a soul. But at the
courthouse they tell me where Judge Lomen sometimes lunches, and so I
go there. It is near by--nothing here is far distant--and so I soon sit
at Mrs. Niebeling's, a justly famed Nome's "for everybody," at a clean
table and to a big civilized dinner. Order reindeer roast--find it this
time, in my condition, not much to boast of--one could hardly tell it
from similarly done beef--and begin on the coffee when in comes a young
man, asks me if I am the doctor, and introduces himself as Mr. Alfred
Lomen, the judge's son; and in a minute or two in comes the judge
himself, a kindly man of something over 70. It all makes me feel a lot
better, though still weak. Have rest of lunch together and talk, but
do not get very far in anything that interests me; but the judge takes
me to the Catholic Fathers here, who have an orphanage somewhere near
where I want next to go, and leaves me with Father Post. The father is
kindly, but himself does not know much, and so makes arrangements for
me to meet next day Father Lafortune, who works among the Eskimo.
Then I go once more to the Coast Guard building and meet Captain
Ross, in charge. The _Bear_, I learn, has just arrived here, and is
soon going north. She is my godsend, evidently. So Captain Ross sends
me over to see Captain Cochran. The meeting is good, and I have a
promise to be taken to the cape and some other stations. But the _Bear_
goes first to coal at St. Michael, and then will make a visit to St.
Lawrence Island. So I propose to go to Teller first, see what I can of
the Chukchee-Eskimo "battle field" near there, and be taken from there
by the _Bear_. The priests give me some hope for getting there over an
inland route, but later on tell me one of the boats of the orphanage
which is located in that region is away and the other has broken down,
so that there will be no possibility of making the trip through the
Salt Lake and to Teller. But the _Victoria_ (the Seattle boat to come
to-night) will go to Teller. Unfortunately, if weather is rough or
there are no passengers she will not stop at Nome, so all is again
uncertain. The _Silver Wave_ goes northward next Monday, but I have a
dread of her. All of which is put down merely to show slightly what an
explorer without a boat of his own may expect in these regions.
Nome, Saturday, July 17. Poor night again--it surely seems to be the
fashion in Alaska. The _Victoria_ came at night (or what should be
night). The ramshackle big frame hotel, with partitions so thin that
they transmit every sound, got about 40 guests, and next room to mine
came to be occupied by two women who had visitors, female and male,
were taken out for a ride after 12 and returned about 2 a. m. One of
them, or their visitor, had a perpetual vocal gush, the others chimed
in now and then, and a strong male voice added the bass from time to
time, with old Fords noisily coming and going outside, and people
going up and down the stairs. So sleep for some hours was out of the
question. And there was nothing to do about it.
After breakfast went to meet Father Lafortune, a Catholic missionary
priest to the Eskimo, who speaks their language well and who promised
to accompany me to their habitations; and together we spent the
forenoon on one side of the town, among the natives of the Diomedes,
and most of the afternoon on the other end among the people from King
Island. It was a good experience, resulting in seeing a good many of
the Eskimo and getting some information, a few photographs, and quite
a few old specimens. Then we went to the parsonage, where I got a few
good photos from Father Lafortune's collection. He is a matter-of-fact,
always ready to help, natural he-man, rather than a priest and teacher,
and a great practical helper to the natives, who all are his friends.
Also saw Judge Lomen, arranged for lecture to-morrow, saw Captain Ross
about the _Bear_, and various other people; but there is not much to be
obtained here about old sites and specimens. Telegraphed Institution,
and also to the Russian consul at Montreal for permission to visit the
Great Diomede Island. Evening packing. Natives bring walrus ivory, some
excellent pieces. Weather whole day cloudy, threatening, occasional
showers, cool but not cold.
Sunday, July 18. Heavy sleep 10 p. m. to 7 a. m., regardless of a
typewriter going in the next room and the women (now quieter, however)
on the other side.
Forenoon spent in talking with people and attending a little service,
for the natives mainly, at the Catholic Church of Fathers Post and
Lafortune. Poor, simple, but sincere and interesting.
After lunch more consultations, then a visit to bank where they smelt
gold dust (even to-day), and then a lecture on "The Peopling of
America," at the courthouse. Well attended, and many came to shake
hands after. Then a dinner, with examination of a number of interesting
and valuable specimens, at Judge Lomen's. Among other objects there is
a duplicate, in ivory, of the broken double ax from the Yukon, the two
grooves and even the break being well represented. Evening--examination
of specimens at Reverend Baldwin's. Cloudy, cool, threatening, but
stormy weather abating.