MY FIRST GOLD CLAIMS.
Christmas is over for another year, and this is December twenty-sixth
with its daily winter routine. After I had given the two men their
breakfast, I went out for a walk upon the beach. A few snowflakes fell
upon my face as I walked, and it was not cold but pleasant. There was a
red and glowing, eastern sky, but no sunshine, and I looked out over the
ice to see if possibly the girls were returning. Seeing nothing of them,
I went home again. About two o'clock M. came in, saying that they could
be seen far out upon the ice, and we must build the fires and get dinner
started, which we then did. Soon Alma came riding on a reindeer sled,
with a native driver, getting in ahead of the others, who arrived half
an hour later.
Mr. H. has come with two of his assistants and Miss E. by reindeer team
from the Home on their way to the station, where the animals are herded
in the hills, and all had a good lunch. After spending two hours in
packing, talking and resting, they left again, Miss E. on a sled behind
a reindeer, which was driven by a native, and which tore up the snow in
clouds as he dashed over the ice northward to the hills. I ran out upon
the cliff to see them on their way, being quite contented that it was
not myself.
I have learned that the five persons who drifted out to sea on the ice
were brought back by the wind and tide, and escaped safely to land,
after being at sea several days, but were unharmed, and went on to Nome.
I was very glad to hear this, as they have had a narrow escape from
death.
Friday, December twenty-eighth: The musician and his friend who was
bitten by the mad dog called this forenoon at the Mission to get the
man's wounds dressed by Mary, the nurse. His hands are much better, but
the wounded leg may yet give him trouble. Mary did her best for the man,
who seems to be growing more cheerful, and we do all possible to
encourage and help him, lending him reading matter of various kinds with
which to pass his time. A good many are going to the New Year's party at
Council, among them the captain and his wife, and the musician; but I
shall not go, though both commissioners have urged me to accept their
invitations, and did not enjoy overmuch my refusals. I was playing ball
with Jennie and Charlie before our lessons today when the party started
out with the dog-teams, for the nights are very moonlight and clear, and
they can travel for many hours. A cousin of Mollie's, by name Ageetuk,
went with her. Jennie is to stay with her auntie until her mamma's
return, and I will give her the afternoon lessons just the same, only at
her auntie's house. When the lesson was finished I led Charlie to
Ageetuk's house, where her mother cares for him in the night time, and
left Jennie with her auntie, Apuk. This woman has a neat little cabin of
three small rooms, furnished in comfortable fashion, with a pretty
Brussels rug covering the floor of her best room, in which is a white
iron bedstead, a good small table with a pretty cover, a large lamp,
white dimity curtains at the windows over the shades, and in the next
room there are white dishes upon the shelves.
Sunday, December thirtieth: It is ten weeks yesterday since we arrived
at Golovin, or Chinik, as is the Eskimo name for the settlement, and
pronounced Cheenik, a creek of the same name flowing into the bay a mile
east of this camp. During the day I went to look after Jennie and
brought the child home with me, giving her candy and nuts, and playing
for her on the organ.
This evening we all went out upon the ice for a walk. We took the trail
to White Mountain, going in a northwesterly direction, and enjoyed it
very much. We passed the cliff, and the boats, the snow creaking at
every step, and the moonlight clear and beautiful. We were out for two
hours, and felt better for the fresh air and exercise. All old timers
say that it is bad for one's health to remain indoors too much in
Alaska, and people should get out every day for exercise. There is far
more danger of getting scurvy by remaining in the house too much than
from any kinds of food we have to eat, and none of us wish to be ill
with that troublesome disease.
About five o'clock Miss E. came in with a native from the station where
the reindeer are kept, having grown tired of staying in a native hut
with the Eskimo women while the missionary was busy at work. She started
early this morning when the weather was fine. Lincoln, the experienced
native who came with her, knew the way perfectly, and they expected to
make the twelve or fifteen miles and get into the Mission early, but the
weather suddenly changed, as it knows so well how to do in this country,
the wind blew, snow fell and drifted and though they came safely through
the hills, they lost their way upon the bay while crossing to Chinik,
and wandered for hours in the snow storm.
Having no lunch, tent, nor compass, and no extra furs, they found
themselves in a disagreeable plight, especially as the snow was very
soft and wet. They kept on traveling, however, until they were satisfied
that they were going in circles, as do all when lost in a snow storm,
and were making no progress; then they halted.
Here they were overtaken by two white men, lost like themselves, who,
when the matter had been talked over, would not follow the native,
thinking they knew better than he the way to Chinik, and they went off
by themselves. Miss E. says that both she and Lincoln had given up hope
of getting here today, but she knelt upon the ice and prayed that they
might find their way safely, then trusted that they would do so, and
started. After going on for a time in the storm, they saw a small,
deserted cabin not far from them which Lincoln instantly recognized as
one upon the point of land only a quarter of a mile west of Chinik, and
they were happy.
They soon came into the Mission, full of gratitude, though wet, tired
and hungry, for it is so warm that there is water on the ice in places,
and the snow is very heavy. They had only one deer with them.
The two lost men came into camp an hour after Miss E. arrived, having
gone past the cabin and camp, and southward too far in their reckoning.
It is never safe to travel without a compass of some sort in this
country. Mr. H. and his two men have, besides attending to the herd,
staked some gold claims while away, not far from our claims. The wind
has died down, and there is no snow falling tonight at half-past eight.
This is New Year's Eve, and the girls and boys are singing, and having a
good time in the sitting-room while I write. We are going to sit up to
watch the old year out and the new year in, and have a little song
service at midnight.
This is the last day of nineteen hundred, and a memorable year it has
been. How many new scenes and how great the changes through which we
have passed! What will the New Year bring? Where will we be next year at
this time? It is probably better that we do not know the future.
New Year's Day, nineteen hundred and one. This has been a good day all
around, after our midnight watch meeting, when seven of the eight
persons present took a part, and we sang many songs with the organ. At
half-past twelve I retired, but the others remained up until two
o'clock.
This evening the storekeeper and two others from White Mountain called
to see if we did not care to go out coasting on the hill behind the
Mission, and five or six of us went. When we got to the top of the hill
the wind was so strong that I could hardly stand, and after a few trips
down the Hill we gave it up, part of our number going out to walk upon
the ice, and the rest of us going indoors. The men were invited into the
Mission, and stayed for an hour, chatting pleasantly, as there is no
place for them to go except to the saloons. It is a great pity that
there is no reading room with papers and books for the miners, with the
long winter before them, and nothing to do. There is a crying need for
something in this line, and if they do not employ their time pleasantly
and profitably, they will spend it unprofitably in some saloon or
gambling place. I wish I had a thousand good magazines to scatter, but I
have none.
I gave Jennie her lesson, and amused both children for a time this
afternoon. Yesterday the snow drifted badly, and I fear the people who
went to Council will not have a good trail on the way home.
January second: It is pleasant to have a corner by myself in which to
write and be sometimes alone. The little northeast corner room where I
sleep has a tile pipe coming up from the kitchen, making the room warm
enough except in the coldest weather. It has a north window with no
double one outside, and when the wind comes from the north I expect it
will be extremely cold. From this window I can see (when the glass is
free from frost) out upon the trail to Nome and White Mountain. Today
there is water on the ice, and it has been raining and blowing. Three of
the boys returned from a four days' prospecting trip to the west, and as
two of them had been sick the whole time since they left here, they came
in wet, tired and hungry, without having much good luck to relate. I
told them it was something to get back at all again, and they agreed
heartily, while eating a hot supper. An hour later and Mr. H. with the
visiting preacher came in from the reindeer station, and their staking
trip, in the same condition as the three boys had been; so a supper for
them was also prepared.
Our kitchen looks like a junk shop these days, and a wet one at that,
for the numbers of muckluks, fur parkies, mittens, and other garments
hung around the stove to dry are almost past counting, and the odor is
stifling; but the clothing must be dried somewhere, and there is no
other place. An engine room would be the very best spot I know for
drying so many wet furs, and I wish we had one here.
In speaking to one of the men today about prospecting my claim, I told
him I would furnish the grub, but he said very kindly, "I wouldn't take
any grub from you. I've got enough, and shall be at work there any way,
so it won't take long to sink some holes in your claim," which I thought
was very good of him. I hope they will "strike it" rich.
January third: A wet, sloppy, snowy day, our "January thaw," Mr. H.
says. I took the two children out on the sled upon the ice and pushed at
the handle-bars until I was reeking with perspiration, afterwards giving
Jennie her lesson at her auntie's.
There are twelve of us under the Mission roof tonight, including Miss E.
and the native.
January fourth: These are great days. We have a houseful of men, nine in
all, and some are getting ready to leave tomorrow to do some staking of
claims up near the station. M. said if the musician were only here, and
they could get a dog-team, he would like to get him to go with him on a
staking trip not far away. This man returned soon afterward, and M.
wanted me to ask him if he would go. I did so, and he replied that he
would go, and furnish dogs if possible; but the ones he tried to get
were engaged, and that plan fell through, much to his discouragement.
Learning this, I determined to go to the captain at the hotel, and see
if I could procure dogs from him for the trip. He said yes, I could have
his best dogs, and that a mail carrier is here resting who will lend us
his dogs, so that was all arranged.
Location papers then had to be written out, grub boxes packed, a tent
looked up, and many things attended to before they left, so that others
in camp got an inkling of what was being done and wanted to go along.
Then M. and the musician decided to put off going until midnight, when
they would sneak quietly out of camp with their dogs and scamper away
among the hills without the others knowing it, but it could not be done,
and two or three sleds followed them at midnight in the moonlight, as is
the custom with Alaska "stampeders."
January fifth: Mollie asked me today to go with her to visit her fox
traps, and I immediately decided to go. We started about half-past one
in the afternoon, on foot past the cliff, but when we had gone a short
distance Mollie stopped to call back to the house. Some native boys were
cutting wood at the north door, and she motioned one to come to her.
When he came, she spoke to him in Eskimo, and he, assenting to what she
said, ran back again.
"I tell Muky to come with dog-team, bring us home, you get tired by and
by," she said thoughtfully, as we trudged on again over and through the
snow. The woman wore a reindeer parkie, short skirt, and muckluks, and
carried a gun on her shoulder. The snow was quite a foot deep, with a
crust on top which we broke at almost every step, and which made it hard
walking. On we "mushed," past the cliff, the boats, and out upon the
ice. The traps had been set by Mollie a week before on the northeast
shore of the bay among a few low bushes, and this was our objective
point. When we reached the first trap, which was buried in snow, but
found by a certain shrub which Mollie had in some way marked and now
recognized, I threw myself upon the snow to rest and watch her
movements.
Around us we saw plenty of ptarmigan tracks, but no signs of foxes. A
foot below the snow's surface, Mollie found her trap, and proceeded to
reset it. Carefully covering the trap with a very little light snow and
smoothing it nicely over, she chipped off bits of reindeer meat from a
scrap she had brought with her, scattering them invitingly around.
The scene about us was a very quiet one and wintry in the extreme. Long,
low hills stretched out on every side of the bay, and the whole earth
was a great snow heap. The sky and cloud effects were charming, fading
sunshine on the hilltops making them softly pink, and very lovely; but
with deep reddish purple tints over all as the sun-ball disappeared.
One after another, four fox traps in different places were reset by
Mollie, while I mushed on behind her.
At last we saw the dog-team and Muky coming on the bay. Five dogs he had
hitched to his sled, and each wore a tiny bell at its throat, making a
pretty din as they trotted. When the woman had finished her trapping, we
both climbed into the sled, the native running and calling to the dogs,
and they started for home. It was not a long ride, probably not more
than a mile and a half as we went, but while tramping through the snow
crust to the traps it seemed much longer.
I now thoroughly enjoyed the novel ride. In the dusky twilight the dogs
trotted cheerfully homeward, obeying the musical calls of their driver,
and the little bells jingled merrily. Darker and more purple grew the
skies until they tinted the snow over which we were passing, and by the
time we had halted before the hotel door it was really night.
By the clock it was fifteen minutes past four and the thermometer
registered fifteen degrees below zero. Then we toasted our feet before
the big heater, removed and shook out our frosty furs, and answered the
two children's questions. To these Mollie gave her explanations in
Eskimo, and I told of the ptarmigan tracks I had seen on the snow
drifts.
Sunday, January sixth: Yesterday I moved into the little southeast room
which was formerly Miss J.'s. It has pretty paper on the walls, and a
small heater in one corner, besides a single cot, and I soon settled
quite comfortably. The room with the bunks was needed for the men, of
whom there are so many most of the time. The room I now have has a south
window, but not a double one, and gets heavy with frost, which remains
on the panes; but I can have a fire when I want one, as the stove burns
chips and short wood, of which there are always quantities in the shed.
B. tells me to use all the wood I want, as there is no shortage of fuel,
nor men to haul and cut it, which I think is very kind. A little fire
while I am dressing nights and mornings, however, is all I shall try to
keep burning.
Miss J. came with Ivan, bringing several native children to visit their
parents for a few hours, but took them back with her after supper when
the meeting was over, which she had held in the kitchen. We had sixteen
to supper, including natives. Afterward we went down to the beach to see
the party off for the Home. Ivan led the dogs, five in number, hitched
to the big sled. Miss J. ran alongside, the visiting preacher at the
handle bar, and the little children on the sled. After watching them
off, we came home and then took a walk of a mile out upon the ice on the
White Mountain trail, which was in fairly good condition. There were
six of us. When we got back to the house, I played by request on the
organ, for the three Swedish visitors from Council.
The weather is bright and beautiful, and sixteen degrees below zero.
Monday, January seventh: The boys came in from their stampede to the
creeks, and M. says they staked us all rich if there is anything good in
the ground. My claim is Number Ten, below Discovery, on H. Creek, and
sounds well, if nothing more. Of course we women are all much elated,
and talk of "our claims" very glibly, but a few sunken prospect holes
will tell the story of success or failure better than anything else.
This has been a busy day in the house until I went at half-past two in
the afternoon to Mollie's to find her ill in bed with a very bad throat.
I gave Jennie and Charlie two hours of my time, and went home, to return
in the evening at Mollie's request. The poor woman was suffering
severely, and I did what I could for her, rubbing her throat with
camphorated oil and turpentine and wrapping it in thick, hot flannels.
Then I assisted her to bed, rubbing her aching bones, and left her less
feverish than when I went in. The thermometer is above zero, and the
weather is pleasant.
Two men from Topkok came in to see the Recorder's books, and searched
all through them without finding what they wanted and expected to find,
and then went away with sober and disappointed faces. "Curses not loud
but deep" come to our ears each day about the Commissioner's work of
recording, and many say he is now deep in dissipation at Nome, instead
of attending here to his business as he should. Miners declare him
unfitted in every way for his position, and affirm that they will depose
him from office.
I went out this morning and bought a student lamp at the store, paying
six dollars and a half for it. This, with my case of coal oil, will
light my room nicely, besides giving a good deal of heat.
The Marshal and men are home from the Koyuk River, after four weeks of
winter "mushing," and say nothing about their trip. They did not manage
to pull harmoniously together, and Mr. L. returned before them.
January ninth: When I went today to the hotel to teach my pupils, I
found the men in the room cleaning the big heater, and ashes and dirt
drove us out of the place, so we went upstairs to another room in which
Mollie sometimes sews, and where we found her at work on a white parkie
for the musician. I played with Jennie for a time before the lesson, and
Ageetuk came in on an errand, while Polly, the Eskimo servant, jabbered
in a funny way and wabbled over the floor like a duck, as is her habit
when walking. This girl is short, fat and shapeless, with beady black
eyes, and a crafty expression, certainly not to be relied on if there is
truth in physiognomy.
At the hotel all is excitement and bustle, getting the men off for the
Kuskokquim River, where the new strikes are reported. Strong new sleds
have been made by the natives, grub is being packed and dogs gotten into
condition, besides a thousand other things which must be done before the
expedition is ready to start. Seeing them make such extensive
preparations reminded me that perhaps I might get the men to carry my
paper and stake something for me, so, plucking up my courage, I asked
the promoter of the expedition, whom I know, if I could do this, and was
readily given permission. In a few minutes paper, pen and ink were
brought in, a clerk was instructed to draw up the paper in proper shape,
which he did, and it was signed and witnessed in due form, Mollie
subscribing her name as one of the witnesses. For this I tendered my
heartiest thanks, and ran home with a light heart, already imagining
myself a lucky claim owner in a new and rich gold section on the
Kuskokquim. The party of five men are to leave tomorrow morning for the
long trip of several hundred miles over the ice and snow.
Mollie advises me to have another pair of muckluks made smaller, and to
keep these I am wearing for traveling, when I will wear more inside
them, so I will take my materials over tomorrow and she will have Alice
cut and sew them for me. I hope they will not make my feet look so
clumsy as do these, my first ones.
January tenth: This was a cold and windy morning, so the men at the
hotel could not start out for the Kuskokquim as they intended. Some men
came to the Mission to see if they could rent the old schoolhouse to
live in, the doctor and his plucky little wife having left some weeks
ago for a camp many miles east of Chinik. After looking it over, the men
have concluded to take it, and move in soon. There are no buildings to
buy or rent in this camp, nor anything with which to build, so it is
hard lines for strangers coming to Chinik. This afternoon Alma went over
with me to the hotel to stitch on Mollie's sewing machine, and I carried
the deerskin for my new footgear which Alice will make acceptably, no
doubt, as she is very expert.
Mr. H., two natives and two white men, were here to supper tonight on
their way to Nome by dog-team, and are wishing to start at three in the
morning in order to make the trip in two days. M. and L. are also here,
so we had seven men to supper. We had fried ham, beans, stewed prunes,
tea, and bread and butter.
This morning it was two degrees below zero, with a strong, cold wind;
tonight it is fourteen degrees below zero with no wind, and is warmer
now than then. No moonlight till nearly morning, but the stars shine
brightly.
January eleventh: Mary sat up all night baking bread, and starting the
men off for Nome between three and four in the morning. I got up at
nine o'clock and enjoyed the magnificent sunrise. I went out with Ricka
while she tried at the three stores to find a lining for her fur coat,
but one clerk told us that no provision for women was made by the
companies, and they had nothing on their shelves she wanted. At the
hotel store she found some dark green calico at twenty-five cents a
yard, which she was obliged to take for her lining.
While I gave Jennie her lesson her mother came from her hunting, and had
shot six ptarmigan, having hurt her finger on the trigger of the gun.
Mollie studies a little while each day, when Jennie has finished her
lesson.
There is a sick Eskimo woman here now who was brought in from the
reindeer camp yesterday, and Mollie has her upstairs in the sewing room
on a cot. Mary, the nurse, went over with me to see her, and says she
has rheumatic fever. She seems to be suffering very much, and cannot
move her hands or limbs.
January twelfth: At eight o'clock today the thermometer stood at
forty-one degrees below zero, but registered thirty-two degrees during
the middle of the day, and the houses are not so warm as they have been.
When I called for Jennie at the hotel today I found her crying with pain
in her leg, so she could not take a lesson, but I sent out for little
Charlie who came running to me with outstretched arms. He is a dear
little child, and I am getting very fond of him. It is some weeks since
Jennie first began crying occasionally with pain, and her parents cannot
understand it, unless it is caused by a fall she had on the steamer
coming from San Francisco last summer, and of which they thought nothing
at the time. I sincerely hope she is not going to be very ill, with no
doctor nearer than White Mountain. The sick woman still suffers, though
they are doing what they can for her. The captain requested me to bring
our medical books over, or send them, that he can look up remedies and
treatment of rheumatic fever, for that is what she no doubt has.
While seated at the organ an hour later, in came the storekeeper and his
clerk, followed soon after by the captain and musician. Then we had
music and solos by the last named gentleman, and the knitting needles
kept rapidly flying. At eleven o'clock they went out into the intense
cold, which sparkled like diamonds, but which pinched like nippers the
exposed faces and hands.
Here is another cold, quiet day, with the thermometer at thirty-five
degrees below zero, and it is a first class one to spend by the fire. We
have read, slept, eaten, and fed the fires; with only one man, three
girls and myself in the house. At ten in the evening G. and B. came in
from a five days "mushing" trip on the trails, being nearly starved and
frozen. They were covered with snow and icicles, their shirts and coats
stiff with frost from steam of their bodies, as they ran behind the
sled to keep warm. A hot supper of chicken (canned), coffee, and bread
and butter was prepared in haste for them, and they toasted themselves
until bedtime.