LIFE AT GOLOVIN.
Our first duty after arriving at Golovin was to look up our freight,
which seemed to be in a general mix-up. Each person was searching on the
beach and in the warehouse for something. For my part, I was greatly
concerned over the probable loss of a case of coal oil, and a box
containing wool blankets, feather pillow, and other things too precious
to lose after paying freight, especially as some of the articles could
not be replaced, and all were useful and necessary. The "Elk's" crew had
dumped the freight promiscuously upon the frozen sands, considering
their duty at that point done, and no assurance was given us that the
freight was all there, or that it was in good condition. The risk was
all ours. We could find it or lose it--that did not concern the "Elk."
As we had no idea as to the honesty of the community in which we had
come to reside, and little confidence in some of the "Elk's" passengers
who were also receiving freight, we visited the beach a number of times
during the first two days. While at Nome and packing up to leave I had
remembered the story of the person who, going to market, put all the
eggs into one basket, and for that reason, when an accident occurred,
she lost the whole lot; while, if she had placed them in two baskets,
one-half might have-been saved. For this reason I then packed my
blankets in two boxes, and now as one was missing I was glad I had done
so, for to be entering upon a cold, long winter without woolen blankets
would be hard lines indeed.
The first day was spent by the boys in hauling baggage and freight into
the old school house, near the mission, which was to be our store room
for a time. This building was made of logs, sod and mud plaster, with
small doors and windows, and thatched roof, now overgrown with grass and
weeds.
It had long-been deserted, or given over to storing purposes, as the new
school and church building was put up alongside, and was being used at
the present time. We would unpack as little as possible, while the
Mission family remained, as their house was too small to accommodate
comfortably so many. Mr. H. was like the old woman who lived in a shoe,
for he really had such a family that he was puzzled as to what
disposition he should make of them. However, the men were all lodged in
the new school building, as it was vacation time, and no session; trunks
and baggage, except bedding, were put in the store house.
The Eskimo children and the women occupied the second floor of the
mission. Mr. H. had his room on the first floor, oftentimes shared with
some visiting missionary or friend, and I was the best lodged of all.
The big velvet couch in the sitting-room by the fire was allotted to me,
and I slept luxuriously, as well as comfortably. The newest and most
modern article of furniture in the establishment, this couch, was soft,
wide, and in a warm, cozy corner of the room.
From being lodged above a bar-room in Nome, I had come to a parlor in
the Mission, and I was well pleased with the changed atmosphere, as well
as the reduction of charges; for, whereas I had paid five dollars per
week for my small, unfurnished room there, I now paid nothing, except
such help as I could give the women in the house.
I felt, too, that I had earned, by my hard work during the summer, all
the rest and comfort I could get, and I thoroughly enjoyed the change.
Where among the drones and laggards is one who can find such sweets as
well-earned rest and comfort after labor? What satisfaction to feel the
joy all one's own. None assisted in the earning, and consequently none
expected a division of reward. It was all my own. If this is
selfishness, it is surely a refined sort, and excusable.
I was not, however, the only one in the Mission who enjoyed a
well-earned rest. Each one of our party of seven had worked for months
as hard and harder than I, and all found a vacation as pleasing, while
the Mission people had the same round of work and as much as they could
accomplish all the year round.
The day after our arrival at Golovin was Sunday. The weather was clear
and sunny, but cold. We were now not only to have a vacation ourselves,
but could give our working clothes a rest as well, and I took great
pleasure in unearthing a good black dress which was not abbreviated as
to length, surprising my friends by my height, after being in short
skirts so long. It was really Sunday now, and we wore our Sunday clothes
for the first time in months, not having had an opportunity for Sabbath
observance in the work we had done at Nome.
To complete our enjoyment of the good day, there was the organ in the
sitting-room, and upon my first entering the room, and seeing the
instrument I had drawn a deep sigh of inward delight. To find an organ,
yes, two of them, for there was also one standing in the schoolroom, or
little church, was to feel sure of many bright and happy hours during
the coming winter, and I felt more than ever that for strangers in the
Arctic world we were, indeed, highly favored.
It was not long before I discovered that with at least two of our party
of seven music was a passion, for Ricka, as well as Mr. B., could never
have enough, and it was a pleasure to see the real and unaffected
delight upon their faces when I played. We were really quite well
supplied with musical instruments, for there were now in the Mission
two guitars, one mandolin, a violin and a few harmonicas, besides the
two organs, while as for vocalists everybody sang from Mr. H. down to
the Eskimo boys, girls and the baby.
But this day's climax was the three o'clock dinner, prepared by Miss E.
Could anything be more restful to three tired restaurant workers than to
sit quietly in easy chairs, allow others to prepare the meal and invite
them to partake, without having given a thought to the preparation of
the same, gaining, as we did, a knowledge of what was coming only by the
pleasant odors proceeding from the kitchen? Certainly not, and the
increased appetite that comes with this rest is only a part of the
enjoyment. So when we were seated at the table on Sunday, the second day
of our arrival at Golovin, before us fresh roast mutton, baked potatoes,
stewed tomatoes, coffee, bread and butter, with pickles, and a most
delicious soup made of dried prunes, apricots, raisins and tapioca for
dessert, we were about the happiest people in Alaska and appreciated it
immensely. What bread Miss E. did make, with slices as large as saucers,
not too thin, snowy, but fresh and sweet. What coffee from the big pot,
with Eagle brand cream from the pint can having two small holes in the
top, one to admit air and the other to let the cream out. Nothing had
tasted so good to us since we had come home, as hungry children, from
school. As then, we were care-free, if only for a little while, and we
were a jolly, happy crowd.
In the evening, when the children were once in bed, we all gathered in
the sitting-room for music, stories and plans for the future, including
the placing of a few new strings on the musical instruments and tuning
of the same. Mr. H. had gone to the Home the afternoon before, so there
had been no preaching service as ordinarily in the little schoolhouse
across the road. The boys were talking of going to the Home across the
bay next day in a boat, but a wind came up which finally developed into
a stout southwester, and Monday was a most disagreeable day. Alma worked
on a fur cap, to practise, she said, on some one before making her own.
Ricka mended mittens and other garments for the boys, while I sewed on
night clothes for the little Eskimo baby.
The child was probably between three and four years old, but nobody knew
exactly, for she was picked up on the beach, half dead, a year before,
by the missionary, where she was dying of neglect. Her mother was dead,
and her grandfather was giving her the least attention possible, so that
she was sickly, dirty and starved. She had well repaid the kind people
who took her into the Mission, being now fat and healthy, as well as
quite intelligent. She was a real pet with all the women immediately,
being the youngest of this brood of twenty youngsters and having many
cunning little ways. In appearance she looked like a Japanese, as, in
fact, all Eskimos do, having straight black hair, and eyes shaped much
like those of these people, while all are short and thick of stature,
with few exceptions.
Among this score of little natives there were some who were very bright.
All were called by English names, and Peter, John, Mary, Ellen and
Susan, as well as Garfield, Lincoln and George Washington, with many
others, became familiar household words, though the two last named were
grown men, and now gone out from the Mission into houses of their own.
As to the dressing of these children, it was also in English fashion,
except for boots, which were always muckluks, and parkies of fur for
outside garments, including, perhaps, drill parkies for mild weather, or
to pull on over the furs, when it rained or snowed, to keep out the
water. As the weather grew more severe, heavy cloth or fur mittens were
worn, and little calico and gingham waists and dresses were discarded
for flannel ones.
The children, for weeks after our arrival, ran out often to play,
bareheaded and without wraps, having frequently to be reminded when the
weather was severe, to put them on. In the kitchen they had their own
table, where they were separately served, though at the same time as
their elders at another table in the room. To preserve the health of the
little ones, not taking entirely away their native foods of seal meat
and oil, tom-cod (small fish), reindeer meat and wild game, these were
fed to them on certain days of the week, as well as other native dishes
dear to the Eskimo palate, but they were well fed at all times, and grew
fat and hearty as well as happy.
As we sewed contentedly in the sitting-room on Monday the storm
continued, snowing and blowing a gale from the southwest, which, though
not disturbing us even slightly, we felt sure would be bad for those at
sea and at Nome; our own experiences at that place giving us always a
large sympathy for others in similar plight. Long afterwards we learned
that in this storm the "Elk" had been blown ashore at Nome, and was
pretty thoroughly disabled, if not entirely wrecked, and we wondered if
poor cook Jim had "done been mighty busy, sah, gittin' tings fixed" ever
since.
When evening came the children and Baby Bessie were put to bed; work,
indoors and out, was finished for that day, and we were twelve in the
sitting-room, as merry a crowd as one could find in all Alaska. Miss J.
had taken a lesson on the organ in the afternoon and was all interested
in making progress on that instrument, assuring her friends who declared
she would never practise her lessons, that she certainly would do so, as
they would afterwards learn.
The winds might sigh and moan, and whirl the falling snow in the
darkness as they liked; waters congeal under the fingers of the frost
king, closing the mouth of innumerable creeks, rivers, and bays; but
here under cover we had light, health, warmth and food, without a single
care. In my cozy, soft bed under the blankets, the firelight playing on
the walls, the fine organ open and ready for use, I lay often with wide
open eyes, wondering if I were myself or another.
In one corner of the room stood a case containing books enough to supply
us with reading matter for a year, those printed in Swedish being, of
course, of no use to me, but a variety of subjects were here presented
in English, ranging from Drummond's "Natural Law in the Spiritual World"
to nursery rhymes for the children. Volumes on medicine, law, science,
travels, stories, ethics and religion--all were here for the instruction
and edification of inmates of the Mission. In another corner there was a
large case of medicines, and here were remedies in powders, liquids,
salves and pills, drawers filled with lint, bandages, cotton, and books
of instruction teaching the uses of all. Even surgical instruments were
found here, as well as appliances for emergencies, from broken and
frozen limbs, mad-dog bites, and "capital operations," to a scratched
finger or the nose-bleed.
This outfit was for the use of any and all, without charge, who should
be so unfortunate as to require assistance of this sort in this region.
Without money and without price, the only case of remedies for many
miles around, this Mission provided for all suffering ones who applied,
and during the winter many were relieved and assisted toward recovery.
In the third corner of this room stood the large cabinet organ, nearly
new, and in good condition. Instruction books, hymnals, "Gospel Hymns,"
small collections of words without music, Swedish songs--all were here
in abundance.
The fourth corner contained my couch-bed. A heating stove, made of sheet
iron, a table with its pretty spread, a large student lamp, easy chairs,
a pretty ingrain rug covering the floor, window shades and lace
curtains, with pictures and Scripture texts upon the wall, completed the
room furnishings, making a homey place, which for years had been a haven
of refuge for the homeless Eskimo children. Besides these, it had given
food, shelter and clothing to many a white-faced wanderer, who came
penniless, hungry and cold, perhaps ill and starving.
About seven years before this unpretending, now weather-beaten house had
been erected, and the kindly little dark-eyed man put in charge was at
once at home. He was blessed with rare versatility and patience, as well
as a great heart of love for all mankind, including the dark-skinned,
seal-eating races of the Arctic.
From a door-latch to a baby's cradle, from a log-house to a sail-boat
rigged with runners on the ice, he planned, contrived and executed,
principally for others, for years. Here we found, in one room, from his
hands a bedstead, a table, and a washstand commode, all made in white
wood, of regulation size, shape and pattern, though without paint or
staining. Relegated now to an upper room, since the velvet couch had
arrived, was a long, wooden settle, with back, ends and sliding seat,
the latter to be pushed forward upon legs and made into double bed at
night.
One day in the winter, when searching for open places under the roof
through which the snow was sifting, wetting the ceiling of the room
below, I found in the attic a number of curious things, and among them a
child's cradle. Not all the thought of the good man had been given to
the needs of the "grown-ups," but the small, weak and helpless ones of
his flock had received their equal share of attention. The cradle was
well made with solid high sides and ends, and curved upper edges,
swinging low and easily upon its two strong rockers. All was smooth,
well finished, and rounded, though there was no paint nor varnish, these
articles being doubtless unprocurable and not deemed strictly essential.
Near by were the remnants of a white fox robe fitting the cradle. It was
made of baby fox skin, fine, soft and pretty. A flannel lining with a
pinked-out edge completed what had once been a lovely cover for baby,
whether with white face or black, and I fell to wishing I might have
seen the complete outfit in its former days.
From the rafters of the attic hung articles of wearing apparel of
curious make and pattern, sometimes of skins of the wild reindeer or
spotted seal. Of old mittens and muckluks there were numbers, still
preserved for the good they had done or might yet do at piecing out
somewhere. There were things for which I had not yet learned the uses,
but might do so before the cold winter had passed. There were also many
fur skins, and new articles of value stored in the attic.
Tuesday, October twenty-third, the weather was not cold, but snow fell
part of the day, and it grew dark about half-past four in the afternoon.
The gale of Monday had subsided, and the sky was overcast. The steamer
"Sadie" of the Alaska Commercial Company surprised us by coming into
Golovin, and again suddenly we fell to letter writing in order to send
them out by her, remaining several hours as she always did to unload
freight and baggage, for this would positively be our last steamer.
Outside the boys worked as industriously as we women. In the old
log-house, a hundred feet from our door, was the building now used for a
woodshed. Here, upon a big "double-decker" saw-buck, two of the boys,
with the big saw between them, worked away, hour after hour, at the
great logs of driftwood brought from the beach, as this was the only
kind of fuel here used, and much was needed for the winter fires.
When I had finished my work of sewing, and it grew too dark to thread
needles, between that hour and the one for the lamp lighting, I was
usually seated at the organ, and our music was not all Hymns from the
Hymnals, certainly. There were marches and polkas, and sprightly
waltzes, too, and nothing was ever tabooed, though these classic
selections were always omitted on Sunday. None ever minded how long I
sat at the organ, or how many times a day a certain piece was played,
and a few could never be sated; but I took good care that my work never
lagged, and a duty was never neglected for such pleasure, thereby making
it always the recreation and enjoyable exercise it was intended to be
and not tiresome.
Miss J. now took a lesson on the instrument each day for a half hour
after the lamps were lighted, and as she had already had a few lessons,
and could play a few hymns, she was much interested in acquiring a
further knowledge which would be helpful in church and Sunday school
services. Miss E., too, thought of beginning lessons if she could find
time from her manifold duties as house-mother of the numerous flock, and
did take a few lessons before they moved away.
In the evening there was always singing, for some were sure to be
present then, who had been absent during the day. Perhaps Mr. H. had
arrived with a Christian native from the Home, to spend the night before
going back on the morrow, with supplies of some sort for the completion
of his new house. He now headed the two establishments and vibrated
between them, simply camping at the new place and enjoying everything of
home life possible in the Mission. At jokes and repartee he was as good
as the best of them, and always enjoyed a laugh like the youngest.
A level head and firm hand had this Swedish missionary of long
experience. From a dozen or more years at Yakutat, in southern Alaska,
where he had done invaluable work for that Mission, he had come about
two years before to Golovin Bay, and now had, besides the Eskimo
children in that place, over four hundred government reindeer in charge.
For these he kept a number of experienced and trusty native drivers, and
these either lived in his Mission or with their families near at hand,
as a few of them now were married.
This herd of animals was kept upon the hills where the reindeer moss
grew in plenty, for they could not, and would not, eat anything else if
they literally starved to death, and they were now five miles away. To
remove this great family of a score and more with their belongings over
the ice, a distance of twelve miles in winter by dog-team, getting
settled in a large frame building, unplastered, and upon a bleak,
unprotected shore, was an undertaking which would have discouraged most
men; especially as a shipload of needed supplies for their new Home,
including furniture, had been lost at sea, leaving them short of many
such necessities. But this was not all. The whole reindeer herd and
their drivers, with their several families, were also to be moved near
the new Home, and to fresh moss pastures.
Near the Home was a good-sized creek of fresh and pure water, which ran
singing along through the hills to the ocean, and for this reason the
site had been selected and built upon.