BAR-ROOM DISTURBANCES.
"Girls, O girls!" shouted Mary from the kitchen door in order to be
heard above the waters, "Do come inside!" Then, as we answered her call
and closed the door behind us, she said: "The danger is over now, and
you can't help those poor people in the wreck. There are plenty of men
to do that. See! it is nearly midnight, and we shall have another hard
day's work tomorrow. Go to bed like good children, do."
"How about yourself, ma?" said Ricka, carrying out the farce of mother
and children as we often did, Mary being the eldest of the four.
"I'm going too, as soon as I get this pancake batter made, for I'm dead
tired. We will hear the particulars of the wreck at breakfast," replied
Mary.
"Poor things! How I pity them. What an awful experience for women if
there were any on board," said sympathetic Ricka, and I left them
talking it over, to roll into my cot, weary from twelve hours of hard
work and excitement.
No anxiety, and no thundering of the breakers could now keep me awake,
and for hours I slept heavily.
Suddenly I was wide awake. No dream or unusual sound had roused me. Some
new danger must be impending. My pulses throbbed. The clock at the head
of my cot ticked regularly, and its hands pointed to four. The sisters
slept peacefully side by side. The whole town seemed resting after the
intense and continued anxiety caused by the storm, and I wondered why I
had wakened.
However, something impelled me to get up, and, rising quietly from my
cot in order not to arouse the others, I went to the south window and
peered out.
My heart fairly stood still.
The waters were upon us! They had already covered the lower steps at the
door not six feet from the cot on which I had slept. I stood motionless.
If I knew that the waters were receding, I would go quietly to bed,
allowing the others to sleep an hour longer; but if they were rising
there was no time to lose. None could reckon on the tides now, for all
previous records had been recently broken. I would wait and watch a few
minutes, I decided, and I wrapped a blanket around me, for my teeth
chattered, and I shivered.
How cruel the water looked as I watched it creep closer and closer. How
quietly now it swept at flood tide up through the piles under the
warehouse, covering the little back yard and the kitchen steps of the
restaurant. With the cunning of a thief it was creeping upon us in the
darkness when we were asleep and helpless.
Would the resistless waters persist in our destruction? Where should we
go in the storm if obliged to fly for our lives?
Twenty minutes passed.
Another step was covered while I watched--the tide was rising.
Crossing the room now to where my friends lay sleeping, I touched little
sister upon the shoulder.
"Wake up! Wake up! The tide is coming,--the water is almost at the door!
I have been watching it for twenty minutes, and I'm sure we ought to be
dressed," said I, trying to keep my voice steady so as neither to betray
my fright nor startle them unnecessarily.
Springing from their bed they hurried to the window and looked out.
"I should say so!" exclaimed the younger lady in dismay.
"These treacherous waters will not give us up. They want us, and all we
possess, and are literally pursuing us, I believe," groaned Miss S., the
older sister, struggling to get hastily into her clothing. "But we must
waken the girls," she said, rapping on the intervening wall, and calling
loudly for the three other women who still slept soundly from fatigue.
With that, we all dressed, and began to pack our belongings; I putting
my rubber blanket upon the floor and rolling my bedding in that. This I
tied securely, and dragged to the street door, packing my bags and trunk
quickly for removal if necessary.
In the restaurant none knew exactly what to do. The water had covered
the back steps, and the spray was dashing against the kitchen door.
Underneath, the little cellar, dug in the dry sand weeks before, and
used as a storing place for tents, chairs, vegetables and coal sacks,
was filled with water which now came within a foot of the floors. From
sheer force of habit, Mary began building a fire in the range, and I to
pack the spoons, knives and forks in a basket for removal. Ricka thought
this a wise thing to do, but Alma remonstrated.
"The water will not come in. You need not be afraid. If it does, we will
only run out into the street, leaving everything. Let us get breakfast
now, the people are coming in to eat," and this very matter-of-fact
young woman began laying the tables for the morning meal. It was six
o'clock. The men soon began to pour into the dining room hungry, wet,
and cold. Many had been out all night assisting in the rescue work or
patrolling the beach, inspecting each heap of wreckage in search of dead
bodies and valuables, for many among the missing were supposed to have
perished in the storm.
Three men engaged in rescuing the survivors of the big wreck of the
night previous, had been swept from the barge alongside, and gone down
in the boiling surf. Searching parties were out trying to locate a
number of men who had started two days before, during a lull in the
storm, against the warnings of friends, for Topkok to the east. They
were never again seen.
I had now to find other lodgings, for the sisters needed their room.
Leaving my work for an hour in the forenoon I tramped about in the mud
looking everywhere within two blocks of the "Star," for I did not wish
to go further away.
After calling at a number of places, I was directed to a small hotel or
lodging house across the street from the "Star," and about one and a
half blocks further east. A man and his wife kept the house, which
consisted of eating room and kitchen on the east side of the lower
floor, and a big bar-room or saloon on the west side. The second floor
was divided by a long narrow hall into two rows of small rooms for rent
to lodgers. The woman showed me a little room with one window on the
west side.
"I wish to rent by the week, as I am expecting to leave town before
long," said I, after telling her my business, and where I was at work.
"What rent do you charge?"
"Five dollars per week, unfurnished," said she.
I caught my breath. The room was about eight feet square, and as bare as
my hand. Not even a shade hung at the window. It was ceiled with boards
around and overhead. I asked if she would put up a window shade. She
said she would when her husband returned, as she expected him in a few
days from Norton Sound.
After talking with the little woman she seemed to wish me to take the
room, assuring me that there were only quiet, decent people in the
house, and the saloon below was closed each day at midnight. There was a
billiard table and piano in the bar-room; but no window shades, shutters
nor screens of any sort, she said. Her own room was next this one, and
she was always there after nine o'clock in the evening, so I need not
feel timid.
Upon reflection, I took the room, and paid the rent. My things could not
stand in the street, and I must have a place in which to sleep at night.
It was high and dry, and far enough away from the surf, so that I need
not fear being washed out. I would not be in my room during the day, and
it was only for a few weeks anyway. It suited my needs better than
anything I could find elsewhere, and as for furnishings, I could do
without.
I went back to my work, and had my baggage and cot sent to the room. I
could settle things in a few minutes in the evening before retiring.
The surf still boomed upon the beach, and rain and mist continued all
day, but without wind. For hours the waters kept close to our floors,
but did not quite reach them. Floating wreckage washed up at our feet,
and two lighters, loose from their moorings, lodged beside the warehouse
at the mercy of the surf. We were in constant fear that they would shove
the warehouse off the piles against our buildings, and that would be,
without doubt, the finale.
In the meantime there was "a rush" indoors such as we never before had.
Many carried hearts saddened by the loss of friends or property. Some
had not slept for days. At the tables, at one time, sat two beggars, and
a number of millionaires. Some who had reckoned themselves rich a few
days previous were now beggared. The great wreck of the night before was
going rapidly to pieces. With a mighty force, the still angry breakers
dashed high over the decks of the ship. Masts and rigging went down
hourly, and ropes dangled in mid-air, while men unloading coal and
lumber worked like beavers at windlass and derrick, which creaked loudly
above the noise of the waters.
More and more was the ship dismantled. When the storm cleared, and the
sun came out next day, the scene was one of wondrous grandeur. Nothing
more magnificent had I ever before beheld. Great masses of water,
mountain high, rolled continually landward, their snowy crests
surmounted by veils of mist and spray, delicate as the tracery on some
frosted window pane. As the sun lifted his head above the horizon,
throwing his beams widely over all, each mist-veil was instantly
transformed into a thing of surpassing beauty. It could only be compared
to strings of diamonds, rubies and pearls. With a fairy's witchery, or a
magician's spell, the whole face of the waters was changed. Each wrecked
craft along the shore, partially buried in sand, masts gone, keel
broken, and anchor dragged, with the surf breaking over all, was
transformed under the brilliant sunshine, until no painting could be
more artistically beautiful. Under the fascination of it all we forgot
the anxiety, the labor, and suspense of the last days and weeks, and
every moment of interval between work we spent at our door next the
beach, or after the falling of the tide, further out upon the sands.
Many wrecks lay strewn along the beach. Schooners, barges, and tugs lay
broken and helpless. Untold quantities of debris, lumber, pieces of
buildings, tents, boxes, and barrels, all testified to the sad and
tremendous havoc made by this great storm.
In my little room I rested quietly when my day's work was done. The
landlady had taken down an old black shawl I had pinned to the window,
and hung a green cloth shade of ugly color, and too wide by several
inches. It was better than no shade, and I said nothing. For a bed I had
my own cot; for a washstand, a box. At the head of my cot stood two
small boxes, one above the other, and upon these I placed my clock,
matches, pincushion, brush and combs, while below were stowed away other
little things. A few nails on the wall held my dresses, but my trunk
remained packed. A candle, tin wash basin, and bucket completed my room
furnishings, simple and homely enough to satisfy the asceticism of a
cloistered nun or monk.
On September twenty-seventh there fell the first snow of the season. A
little had for days been lying upon the hilltops of Anvil, but none
nearer. The only fire in my room was an oil lamp upon which I heated
water upon going home at night; but with plenty of blankets and wool
clothing I was comfortable with the window open.
One evening while going to my room I heard some one singing in the
bar-room. I hurried up the stairs on the outside of the building, which
was the only way of entrance to the second floor, and entered my room.
Depositing my lighted lantern upon the floor, I listened. The singing
continued. It was a youthful woman's voice. I would see for myself.
Going quietly out the door, and down part way to a window crossed by the
stairs, I sat down upon a step and looked into the room below. It was
the big bar-room. It was pleasant and warm, with lights and fire. Upon
the bright green cloth of the billiard table lay a few gay balls, but no
game was then in progress. The big piano waited open near by. The
bartender stood behind the bar, backed by rows of bottles, shining
glasses and trays. A mirror reflected the occupants of the room, some of
whom were leaning against the counter in various attitudes, but the
central figure stood facing them.
It was a beautiful young girl who was singing.
A few feet from, and directly in front of the girl, was her companion, a
well dressed and good looking young man a little older. Both were
intoxicated, and trying to dance a cake walk, accompanying themselves by
singing, "I'd Leave my Happy Home for You."
She was singing in a tipsy, disconnected way the senseless ditty,
swaying back and forth to the imaginary music. Beautiful as a dream,
with dark hair, and great melting eyes, her skin was like lilies, and
each cheek a luscious peach. Her tall, graceful figure, clad in long,
sweeping black draperies, with white jeweled fingers daintily lifting
her skirts while she stepped backward and forward, made a picture both
fascinating and horrible.
I sat gazing like one petrified. The girl's laugh rang through the room.
"I'd Leave my Happy Home for You, ou--ou," she was singing still,
weaving and swaying now from side to side as if about to fall. Her
companion approached and attempted to place his arm about her shoulders,
but she gave him a playful push which sent him sprawling, at which she
shouted in great glee, dropping her drapery and flinging her lovely arms
above her head. How the diamonds sparkled on her little hands I How the
men in the bar-room clapped, swearing she was a good one, and must have
another drink. Someone gave an order, and the bartender handed out a
small tray upon which stood slender-necked amber-colored glasses filled
to the brim.
As the girl quickly tossed off the liquor, I groaned aloud, awaked from
my trance, and fled to my room, where I bolted the door, and fell upon
my knees. God forgive her! What a sight! I wanted to rush into the
bar-room, seize the young girl, and lead her away from the place and her
companions, but I could not. I had barely enough room for myself. I had
little money. What could I do for her? Absolutely nothing. If I went in
and attempted to talk with her it would do no good, for she was drunk,
and a drunken person cannot reason. The men would jeer at me, and I
might be ejected from the place.
Finally I went to bed. At midnight the singing and shouting ceased, the
people dispersed, the bartender put out the lights, and locked the
doors.
For the first time since reaching Nome, my pillow was wet with tears,
and I prayed for gold with which to help lift these, my sisters, from
their awful degradation.
It was well towards midnight, and I had been asleep for some time. My
subjective mind, ever on the alert as usual, and ready to share
enjoyment as well as pain with my objective senses, began gradually to
inform me that there was music in the air. Softly and sweetly, like
rippling summer waters over mossy stones, the notes floated upward to my
ears. The hands of an artist lay upon the keyboard of the instrument in
the room beneath.
I listened drowsily.
With the singing of brooks, I heard the twitter of little birds, the
rustle of leaves on the trees, and saw the maiden-hair nodding in the
glen. I was a little child far away in the Badger State. Again I was
rambling through green fields, and plucking the pretty wild flowers. How
sweet and tender the blue skies above! How gentle the far-away voice of
my mother as she called me!
They were singing softly now,--men's voices, well trained, and in
sweetest harmony:
"I'm coming, I'm coming,
My ear is bending low.
I hear the angel's voices calling
Old Black Joe."
They sang the whole song through, and I was now wide awake.
Familiar songs and old ballads followed, the master hand at the keys
accompanying.
"We are going outside on the Ohio tomorrow," said one in an interval of
the music, "and then, ho! for home again, so I'm happy," and a momentary
clog dance pounded the board floor.
"Have a drink on it, boys?" asked a generous bystander who had been
enjoying the music.
"No, thanks, we never drink. Let's have a lively song now for variety,"
and the musician struck up a coon song, which they sang lustily. Then
followed "America," "Auld Lang Syne," and "'Mid Pleasures and Palaces,"
the dear old "Home, Sweet Home" coming with intense sweetness and pathos
to my listening ear. No sound disturbed the singers, and others filed
quietly out when they had gone away. "God bless them, and give them a
safe voyage home to their dear ones," I breathed, with tears slipping
from under wet lashes, and a great lump in my throat.
"Thank God for those who are above temptation, even in far-away Alaska,"
and again I turned, and slept peacefully.